The First Crush Is the Deepest

by Nina Harrington

  ‘Oh, how suspicious you are. Well. As it happens, I might be willing to give you that interview.’ She cleared her throat and tilted her head, well aware that she had his full attention. ‘But there are a few conditions we need to agree on before I talk on the record.’

  ‘Conditions. This sounds like the catch part.’

  ‘I prefer to think of them as more of a trade. You do something for me, I do something for you. And, from what I have seen so far, you might find some of them rather challenging. Still interested?’

  ‘Ah. Now we have it. You know you have the upper hand so you decided to come down here to gloat?’

  ‘Gloat? Do you really think I would do that?’ she repeated, her words catching at the back of her throat. Was that how he thought of her? As some spoiled girl who had come to impress him with her list of achievements?

  ‘I haven’t changed that much, Sam. We’ve both done what we set out to do. You need an interview and I have a few things I need doing which you might be able to help me with. It’s as simple as that.’

  ‘Simple? Nothing about you was ever simple, Amber.’

  Sam leaned back against the workbench and stretched out his long arms either side of him so that his biceps strained against the fabric of his T-shirt across his chest and arms. The sinewy boy she had known had been replaced by a man who knew his power and had no problem using it to get his way.

  And the tingle of that intense gaze sent the old shivers down the back of her legs and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop them. Her heart started thumping and she knew that her neck was already turning a lovely shade of bright red as his gaze scanned her face.

  She could blame it on the hot May sunshine outside the garage door, but who was she trying to kid?

  What had Kate said about Petra? That she had bedazzled Sam that night? Well, the Sam who was scanning her body was quite capable of doing his own bedazzling these days.

  Sam had been the first boy who had ever given her the tingles and there had only been two other men in her life. All god-handsome, all rugged and driven and all as far removed from the world of music and orchestral performance venues as it was possible to imagine.

  And every single one of them had swept her off her feet and into their world without giving her time to even think about what she was doing or whether the relationship had a chance. Little wonder that she had ended up alone and in tears, bewildered and bereft, wondering what had just happened and why.

  But one thing was perfectly clear. Sam had been the first, and there was no way that she was going to go through that pain again, just to score a few points on the payback scoreboard.

  Decision time.

  If she was going to do this, she needed to do it now, and put the tingles down to past stupidity. Or she could turn around and run as fast as she could back to the penthouse and lock the door tight behind her. Just as her kind friends thought that she should. Just as she would have done only a few months earlier, before her life had changed.

  ‘I hadn’t planned to give any more interviews after the press release. That part of my life is over,’ she said, her chin tilted up. ‘But I have a few things you could help me with and you need this interview to impress your editor and make your mark in the London office. Am I getting warm?’

  He shrugged and tried to look casual. But there was just that small twitch at the side of his mouth which he used to have when things were difficult at home and he didn’t want to talk about it. ‘Warm enough.’

  ‘Warm? If I was any hotter I would be on fire. If I go to another paper, you will be waiting on the pavement for movie stars to stagger out from showbiz parties wearing their underpants as hats.’

  Sam’s hands gripped onto the bench so tightly that his knuckles started to turn white. ‘Ah. Now I am beginning to understand. You want to see me suffer.’

  Amber winced and gave a small shoulder shrug. ‘You walked out on me and broke my heart. So yes, it would be a shame to miss the opportunity for some retribution. And I am not in the least bit ashamed.’ She took a breath. ‘But that was a long time ago, Sam. And I am keen to put that away in a box labelled “done and dusted”. I think this will help me do that.’

  Sam closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side before blinking awake and laughing out loud. ‘Done and dusted, eh? I am almost frightened to ask what form my punishment is going to take. But please, do continue, let’s get it over with.’

  He stood to maximum height, pushed his shoulders back and lifted his chin. ‘Hit me.’

  Amber strolled into the garage and focused her attention on the sports car, her fingertips lingering on the old leather seats, her face burning with awareness that Sam’s gaze was still locked onto her. ‘I want to get this done as soon as I can, but time is tight. I’m redecorating my apartment and the girls want to celebrate my birthday this week.’

  She almost turned around at the sound of Sam’s sharp intake of breath. ‘May eighteenth. Hard to forget.’

  Amber flung her head up and twisted around at the waist, ready with a cutting remark, but bit it back when she saw the look on Sam’s face was one of sadness and regret.

  His lips twitched for a second before he replied. ‘Busy week. No problem. Just give me your email address and I can send over some questions so you can work on them when you have time.’

  ‘Email questions? Oh, no. This interview has to be in person.’

  Sam coughed twice. ‘Are you always so awkward?’

  She tilted her head slightly to one side before replying. ‘No. Just with you.’

  He laughed out loud and planted a fist on each hip. ‘Don’t try and kid me, girl. You have been planning this for ages and are having way too much fun teasing this out.’ He flicked his chin in her direction. ‘You could have asked your agent to make the call and organised the interview over the phone. But that wouldn’t have been nearly so satisfying, would it?’

  He waved her spluttering away. ‘And I understand that perfectly. Really. I do. I made a horrible mistake and treated you badly, and now you’re going to make me pay.’

  Then his stance softened and his gaze darted from side to side. ‘I’m not proud of what happened the last time we met. Far from it. But that was ten years ago and we’re different people now. At least I am. I’m not sure about you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You never had a vindictive thought in your life, Amber DuBois. So why don’t you just take me through that list of little things you want me to help you with and we can get this over and done with, and we can put the past behind us?’

  Amber inhaled slowly and turned to face Sam, her head tilted slightly to one side, and she carefully pushed the slip of paper deeper into the heart-shaped pocket of her dress.

  ‘What makes you think I have a list?’ she asked in the best innocent and surprised voice she could muster at short notice.

  ‘Amber. You always had a list. For everything. A list of things to do that day, a list of how long you practised that week. You are a listy type of person and people don’t change that much. So it makes sense for you to have a list of all the things I am going to have to do in exchange for one interview.’

  He shot her a glance which made her eyes narrow. Why did he have to remember that small detail, of all things? There was no way she could talk him through her list now.

  ‘I prefer to think of them as challenges. But you are right about one thing—I have thought about what you could possibly give me in exchange for an exclusive, and you can take that smirk off your face right now. You would not be so lucky. So I came up with a new approach.’

  She crossed the space between them until her face was only inches away from his and licked her lips before speaking.

  ‘Look, Sam,’ she said in low, calm voice as her gaze locked onto his. ‘I know people are interested in why I decided to retire when I did, but my reasons are very personal and very close to my heart.’ She took a breath and swallowed before rolling her shoulders back a
little. ‘It would be very easy for a reporter to do a hatchet job with some crazy headline just to sell more papers. So...I need to know that I can trust the journalist I go for to give me a fair hearing.’

  ‘That’s not going to be easy,’ he replied in a voice which sang with resignation and disappointment.

  ‘I know. This is why you are going to have to prove to me that you are the right man for the job before I say a word on the record.’

  His eyebrows went skywards. ‘Any ideas on how I do that?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she sniffed. ‘You are going to have to pass an audition before I give you the job. You see, this week is crazily busy and my wrist is a problem. So I need someone to be my Man Friday for the next few days. Unpaid, of course, and you provide your own uniform. But all refreshments are provided by the management. And I just know how much Saskia and Kate are looking forward to having you around the place.’

  ‘A Man Friday,’ Sam repeated, very, very slowly. ‘So, basically, I have to be your man slave for the next week before you’ll even think about giving me the interview?’

  Amber picked her business card out of her dress pocket with two fingers, gave Sam her sweetest camera-ready smile and looked deep into his startled eyes as she held the card high in the air. ‘Well, it’s good to know that your powers of deductive reasoning are as sharp as ever. The audition starts at my apartment at ten tomorrow morning. Oh—and just to make it a little more interesting, I’ll have a new challenge for you every day. See you there, Sam. If you are man enough to accept the challenge.’

  The air bristled with tension for all of ten seconds. Then Sam took two powerful steps forward, his brows low and dark-eyed, his legs moving from the hips in one smooth movement. Driven. Powerful.

  And, before Amber had a chance to complain or slip away, Sam splayed one hand onto her hip and drew her closer to him. Hip to hip.

  Amber’s breath caught in her throat as his long clever fingers pressed against the thin silk of her dress as though it was not there. She could feel his hot breath on her face as she inhaled a scent that more than anything else she had seen or experienced today whipped her right back to being held in Sam’s arms. It was car oil, polish, man sweat, dust and ambition and all Sam. And it was totally, totally intoxicating.

  His gaze locked onto her eyes. Holding her transfixed.

  ‘Bambi, I am man enough for anything that you have to offer me,’ Sam whispered in a voice which was almost trembling with intensity, one corner of his mouth turned up into a cheeky grin as though he knew precisely what effect he was having on her blood pressure. And there was not one thing she could do about it.

  Then, just like that, he stepped back and released her, and it took a lot to stay upright.

  And then he winked at her.

  ‘See ya tomorrow—’ he smiled with a casual lilt in his voice ‘—looking forward to it.’

  FIVE

  ‘No Mother. Seriously. I don’t need another expert medical opinion. Every specialist I have seen recommends six months’ recovery time. Yes, I am sure your friend in Miami is excellent but I am not pushing my wrist by trying to practice before it is ready.’

  Amber closed her eyes and gave her virtuoso violinist mother two more minutes of ranting about how foolish she was to throw away her career before interrupting. ‘Mum, I love you but I have to go. Have a great cruise. Bye.’

  Amber closed the call, strolled over to the railing of her penthouse apartment and looked out over London. The silvery River Thames cut a wide ribbon of glistening water through the towering office blocks of glass and exposed metal that clung to the riverbanks. Peeking out between the modern architectural wonders were the spires and domes of ancient churches and imposing carved stone buildings that had once been the highlights of the London landscape.

  Even five storeys up, the hustle and bustle of traffic noise and building work drifted up to the penthouse, creating the background soundtrack to her view of modern city life.

  Everywhere she looked she saw life and energy and the relentless drive for prosperity and wealth. Investment bankers, city traders and financial analysts jostled on the streets below her on the way to their computer trading desks. Time was money.

  The contrast to the tiny beachside orphanage in Kerala where Parvita was celebrating her wedding could not be greater.

  The seaside village where the girls’ orphanage was based had running water and electricity—most of the time.

  She would love to go back and see them again. One day. When she was not so terrified of catching another life-threatening infection.

  A cold shiver ran across Amber’s shoulders and she pulled her cashmere tighter across the front of her chest.

  Heath and her mother were right about one thing. As always. Even if she wasn’t scared, she could raise more income for the orphanage by staying in London or Boston or Miami and fund-raising than risk returning to Kerala, where she had caught meningitis only a few months earlier.

  Now all she had to do was come up with a way of doing precisely that.

  Not by playing the piano. That was for sure.

  No matter how much her mother nagged her to reconsider and plan a comeback concert tour. A year ago she might have gone along with it and started rigorous training but that part of her life was over now.

  Wiped away by meningitis and a few months of enforced bed rest when she had to ask some hard questions about the life she was living and how she intended to spend it in the future.

  Amber closed her eyes and inhaled and exhaled slowly a couple of times. No going back, girl. No going back. Only forward. This was her new start. Her new beginning.

  The sun was warm on her face and when she opened her eyes the first thing she saw was the braided cord bracelet that Parvita had made and woven onto her right wrist that last day she was at the orphanage.

  She was so lucky.

  Heath and her mother loved her and that was what she had to focus on. Not their nagging. She would go back to Boston and start work with the fund-raising committee for Parvita. Benefit concerts were always popular and between her mother and their network of professional musicians they could pull together some top name soloists who could raise thousands for the charity.

  This was her chance to do something remarkable. And she was going to grab hold of it with both hands and cling on tight, no matter how bumpy the road ahead was.

  First hurdle? Talking to Sam.

  Amber glanced at her wristwatch and a fluttering sensation of apprehension blended with excitement bubbled up from deep inside. In another place and time she might have said that the thought of seeing him again face to face was making her nervous. That was totally ridiculous. This was her space and he was here to help her out, as he had promised.

  This was not the time to get stage fright.

  She was an idiot.

  They had agreed to make a trade. His time in exchange for one interview. Nothing more. What else could there be?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a petite bundle of energy.

  ‘One good thing came out of that whole school reunion fiasco.’ Kate laughed and threw her arms around Amber’s waist. ‘The three of us haven’t been in the same city at the same time for far too many years. And that is a disgrace. So all hail school reunions.’

  Amber laughed out loud and stepped back to clink her mug of coffee against Kate’s. ‘With you on that. I still cannot believe that it’s the middle of May already. April was just a blur.’

  Kate groaned and slumped into the patio chair facing Amber. ‘Tell me about it. London might be suffering from the economic recession but bespoke tailoring is booming and I have never been so busy. It’s great. Really great. But wow, is it exhausting.’

  ‘Well, here is something to keep you going.’ Saskia Elwood came out from Amber’s penthouse apartment with a tray of the most delicious-looking bite-sized snacks, which she wafted in front of Amber. ‘Test samples for your birthday party. I need you to taste them all and tell me which ones y
ou like best.’

  Kate half rose out of her chair. ‘Hey, don’t I get to try them too? I could scoff the lot. And breakfast was hours ago.’

  ‘You’re next but the birthday girl has first pick. Besides, she needs fattening up a bit. What did they feed you in that hospital, anyway? I can’t have you coming to my dining room looking all pale and scrawny.’

  Amber munched away on a mini disc of bacon and herb pizza and made humming sounds of appreciation before speaking between bites. ‘No appetite. It was so hot and I was asleep most of the time. And the food certainly wasn’t as good as this. These are fantastic.’

  ‘Thought you would like it and there are lots more to come. So tuck in.’

  Kate snatched a tiny prawn mayo sandwich and chewed it down in one huge bite before sighing in pleasure. ‘Oh, that is so good. Amber DuBois, it was a genius idea to have your birthday party at Saskia’s house.’

  ‘It was the very least I could do. Ten years is a long time and all three of us have come a long way,’ Amber replied and raised her coffee as a toast. ‘I missed you both so much. To the goddesses.’

  ‘The goddesses,’ Kate and Saskia echoed and all three of them settled back in their chairs in the sunshine with the tray of snacks between them, hot Italian blend coffee and the sound of the city way below to break up the contented sighs.

  ‘So what have you been up to, Amber?’ Saskia asked, her eyes shielded with a hand as she nibbled on a fresh cream profiterole drizzled with chocolate sauce. ‘It must get you down when you’re unable to practise for hours like you usually do.’

  Amber waved her right arm in the air and turned the plaster cast covering her wrist from side to side. ‘Frustrating more than anything, but the exercises are keeping my fingers working and I have to get used to being one handed for a few more weeks. Only that isn’t the problem. There is something missing and somehow...’ Then she gave a chuckle and shook her head. ‘Oh, ignore me. I’m just being silly.’

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ Saskia said in a low voice. ‘We can tell that there is something bothering you. And you know that we’re not going to let it drop until you tell us what the problem is. So come on. Spill. Out with it.’