by Ally Blake
Maybe the balance he’d found in his life meant he finally had a chance to bend his hard lines a very little.
Maybe this was the girl to teach him how.
CHAPTER SIX
DAX whistled and bounced on his toes as the lift ascended towards Caitlyn’s apartment. It was the kind of day that called for whistling, and who was he to deny it?
The Pies had beaten the Blues by a hundred points. The forensic accountants had given the foundation the all-clear. And Franny was...elsewhere. He didn’t know where, exactly, and didn’t much care. When he’d called Caitlyn’s apartment earlier and Franny had answered he’d just made sure she would be somewhere other than there.
Bouncing on his toes, he knocked a tune on Caitlyn’s apartment door, imagining her opening it up to him wearing something frilly and sheer. Or a trench coat and high heels. Or nothing at all.
The key turned in the lock and his blood felt as if it were rushing through his system too fast. It needed an outlet. An outlet that was only seconds away.
The door ripped open with such force he braced himself for a soft warm body flinging itself into his arms. But all he got was a whoosh of empty air.
After a moment, he stepped inside and closed the door. Caitlyn was still in her work clothes—wide-legged grey trousers, a fitted pink sweater, and high heels. The thin silver scarf she was unwinding from around her neck made him think she’d just beaten him home. All in all it was no trench coat but she still looked sexy as all get out.
If only she hadn’t been frowning up a storm and swearing like a sailor, he’d have been on her in a heartbeat. But she was like a mini-storm, waves of antagonism pouring from her. He planted his feet and forced the adrenalin pumping through his system back under control.
The swearing finally stopped, but the frowning amplified. She sniffed the air and her whole body clenched like it was about to implode.
‘Franny!’ she cried out loudly enough for the whole block to have heard her. ‘If you’ve made a mess of my kitchen and not tidied up after yourself, there will be consequences!’
And then she stormed into the kitchen, leaving Dax standing, bemused and alone, in the sudden quiet of her wake.
‘Right,’ he said, to nobody in particular.
Brow tight, he glanced at the front door, chagrined at how recently it had held such promise. And now? Now he had no idea what the hell was wrong. They’d yet to even say hello.
He didn’t need this. Not from her. She was meant to be his relief from the pressures in his life, not one more cause of it.
He seriously considered leaving, but the suspicion that she might not even notice tweaked his pride. Besides, his body was a mile behind his head. It was still humming, still neck deep in plans for the evening. Parts of him were still straining towards the vibrating kitchen saloon doors.
Jaw tight, he made a beeline for the kitchen to find Caitlyn pouring a generous glass of red wine. Just one.
‘Did we have plans?’ she asked, not even looking at him.
A muscle throbbed in his temple. Only pure and utter stubbornness kept him from spinning on his heel and walking out of her door. He hadn’t backed down from bringing up a sixteen-year-old wild child. He hadn’t backed down from taking a nearly bankrupt foundation into the black. He wasn’t about to back down from Caitlyn’s foul mood.
‘I had plans,’ he said, his tone pointed. ‘Specific ones involving you, me, and the contents of your fridge.’
She curled her shimmery scarf around her hands ’til the tips of her fingers turned white. ‘I’m not hungry. Where’s Franny?’
Not about to give her any satisfaction in knowing he hadn’t been looking forward to eating her food, not off the table anyway, Dax breathed deep through his nose, keeping his patience only just in check. ‘She made other plans for the evening. Now what’s up with you?’
Finally, she looked him in the eye. He braced himself for sass. Or heat. Or some form of the spirit that had kept him there in the first place.
What he got was a shrug. What he got was indifference.
Dax’s indulgence gave way with a mighty snap. He’d never needed to push himself on a woman who didn’t want him and he wasn’t going to start now. The fact that he was so hugely thrown by her reaction only motivated him more to get the hell out of Dodge.
‘Fine. Whatever.’
He turned to go, when out of the corner of his eye he saw her flinch. Her face crumbling as if she’d been slapped. This from a woman who always seemed as though she were sailing through life on roller skates.
His back foot anchored itself to her kitchen floor.
Damn it. Damn her!
He slid his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers, and did his best to unclench his jaw. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘Nothing,’ she said, shaking her head as if she was trying to shake bad thoughts from it.
‘So there’s no particular reason why you appear to be on the verge of a temper tantrum.’
She glared at him then, her cheeks blotchy and pink. He tried to console himself with the fact that at least she’d moved on from indifference. But the heat in her eyes was so uncontrolled, so wild, he felt as if someone had jabbed a hot chopstick through his gut.
He didn’t like the feeling one bit. Didn’t much want to think about what it meant. But he did know the only way to make it go away was to draw out the Caitlyn he’d come to see.
He reached over and grabbed her hand, uncurling the scarf from her cool fingers before she’d wrapped the damn thing tight enough to cut off a fingertip. He shoved it into the pocket of his jacket and dragged her hand to eye level so she had no choice but to look at him.
God, her hand was so cold. And trembling. The chill that had cloaked him from the moment she’d opened her door did a rapid thaw. This wasn’t some random tantrum sent to ruin his day. Something was very wrong.
‘Tell me,’ he insisted. ‘Now.’
She shook off his touch and for the first time he felt a frisson of alarm. Was it him? Was this it? Not yet, his body urged. Not until he knew why, his mind moderated.
‘Caitlyn.’
‘I’m tired. I’m grumpy. I’d be crap company tonight. You should go home.’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Dax!’ she said, her voice now rising, panicked even. ‘Please. I beg you. I don’t know how to put this any more clearly. I want you to leave me alone.’
That could have been it. The end. Perhaps with any other woman it would have been. But with Caitlyn, this time her very candour worked against her. While her words said one thing, her body told him another. Her eyes were wide with uncertainty, and her small cool hand gripped him so tight her pulse throbbed through his palm.
He slid a finger beneath her stubborn little chin as once more he said, ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
She held on for a moment more, her whole body stiff and unyielding, and then, as if a dam broke inside her, her stern stubborn little face just crumpled. And then she started to cry. Not just cry. Great racking sobs that left her gulping for breath.
Dax froze. Stunned into complete stillness before his mind whirred back to life as if it had been spun into the wall of a hurricane from the eye of the storm. Surely this wasn’t about him. Then what? Her job? Franny? Her mother? He realised he didn’t know enough about Caitlyn’s life to know what else it even could be.
Caitlyn’s sobs grew so intense she was gulping in breaths, while Dax did a grand impression of an oak tree.
It wasn’t as though he’d never seen a woman cry before. Lauren was all emotion and heart and such an adept crier she could have gone professional.
But watching Caitlyn sob her heart out had disarmed him. He felt helpless. Useless. Devoid of whatever sympathy or soul she clearly needed. He didn’t do compassion, just as he didn’t do intimacy. It was too messy. Too primed for disappointment. Which was why he’d spent years paying others to do it for him.
But he couldn’t just stand there, a
rampart buffeting all that pain. He might be implacable but he was still human. He yielded just enough to wrap his arms around her, while she resisted and trembled and cried.
After what felt like hours had passed, Caitlyn stopped fighting and slumped against him, spent, as if the tears had been the only things that had been keeping her upright.
Dax curled his arm behind her knees and carried her into the lounge, depositing her on the couch. He sat beside her, away a tad, but when her soft warm body curled flush and trusting against his, he didn’t resist.
They sat that way for some time. Her body curled into his, his eyes focused on some point in the near distance while he tried to think about anything other than how her warmth and gentleness and smallness made him feel so big and strong and good.
‘Today’s his anniversary,’ Caitlyn said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dax breathed deep, years of living as an island unto himself fighting against the all-too-human need to know. But with the warmth of her soft breath trickling through his shirt, he heard himself say, ‘Whose?’
‘My dad’s. He died seventeen years ago today.’
Dax breathed out long and deep through his nose, disproportionately intense relief that her mood had nothing to with him warring with the kind of tension that gripped him when families were added to the mix.
She didn’t appear to have felt his strain either way. ‘It was during a rally race overseas,’ she said. ‘His car flipped a dozen times but that didn’t kill him. He got an infection in hospital while in Africa. We didn’t even know he’d even been in an accident in the first place...and then it was too late.’
While she melted deeper and deeper against him as the words flowed from her, Dax held tight. He knew all too well the guilt of not being there. The helplessness. The anger. The way it hardened a person. He’d relied on that hardness to cement his success. Though no matter how hard he thought about it, he saw no hardness in Caitlyn. Even in the grip of sadness she was soft, sweet, and strong.
‘I always do something on his anniversary,’ she went on. ‘I’ll listen to his favourite Springsteen album. Or head up to the roof at work and chat to the clouds. But today—’
He felt the shudder of her next breath vibrate through him, and he clenched so tight he was sure he would pull a muscle within minutes. ‘Today?’ he repeated, his voice like stone.
‘I plum forgot. I went the whole stupid day without thinking of him once. What’s worse it took for Mum to call to remind me. And I heard it in her voice. She knew. I could feel her condemnation. Caitlyn the great disappointment of a daughter does it again.’
‘I can’t imagine that’s what she was thinking.’
At that Caitlyn perked up, a flicker of her spirit returning. And like fire to a man who’d been encased in ice that flash in her eyes sliced through him, sending waves of heat rocketing through his body.
‘Oh ho,’ she said, shaking a finger at him, ‘you don’t know my mother. If they had a rewards card that gave points for disappointing her, I’d be able to fly to the moon and back by now. She was practically giddy that I didn’t call her first as it’s the final proof that even while I’m so like him, she clearly misses him more.’
The fire in her eyes raged now, bringing light and life into her red-rimmed eyes. And Dax could maintain his cool no more.
His eyes connected with hers. Desire and heat and something else arced instantly between them. It was recognition. Recognition of past experiences. And recognition of how that could change things.
When the tension became too much, he said, ‘Clearly your mother is a heinous cow.’
She coughed, hiccuped, and ended with a bark of laughter before slapping a hand over her mouth.
‘What?’ he said.
‘Don’t you dare try to make me feel better. I deserve to feel bad. I forgot about Dad, I’m whinging about Mum. I’m clearly the heinous cow in this scenario.’
‘Okay, you’ve convinced me.’
She laughed again, this time slapping her hand on his arm before it dropped to settle against his chest, a hot little palm print leaving an indelible mark on his skin. On him.
He shifted restlessly on the over-soft chair, until Caitlyn boosted herself upright, giving him some much-needed space. But when his eyes next found hers, eyelashes clumped together by tears, the sweet honey colour so open, so clear, so absorbed by him, he had had the distinct feeling he never ought to have moved. Or stayed.
‘I simply wanted to make sure you were okay,’ he said, his voice gruff. ‘But I understand if you need to be alone tonight.’
The fingers at his chest curled into his shirt, gripping ever so lightly. She didn’t need to ask him to stay. And he knew he wouldn’t suggest leaving again.
‘Do you miss your parents?’ she asked.
Dax blinked hard. Apart from the usual platitudes through gritted teeth at Bainbridge Foundation events, he never talked about them to anyone but Lauren, and even then with careful reserve so as not to colour her memories of them. But he was in for a penny now, so what could he say but, ‘I have my moments.’
‘They died together, right?’
‘Light plane. At night. Snowstorm in the wilds of Colorado. Franny,’ he said, realising late how she knew.
‘Her relationship with Google is not to be denied,’ Caitlyn said with a now familiar self-deprecating shrug. ‘What were they like, your folks?’
‘Gregarious. Impulsive.’ And after a pause, ‘Absent. I’d long since moved out of home by the time they died. Saw them rarely as they were always jetting off to some glamorous destination or other. Then that winter they’d dumped Lauren in some random boarding school in middle America so they could head to Aspen for a ski trip. It took me a week to track her down when they died as it hadn’t occurred to them to let anyone know where she was. Not surprisingly Lauren did her best to screw up her life after that, as if that’s all she thought she was worth.’
And that wasn’t even the half of it, he thought, running his thumb hard over a crease in the couch, over and over again, trying to wipe it away. But it was there for good. Indelible.
‘It was never part of my grand plan to one day run the foundation,’ he found himself saying, as if now he’d started he couldn’t stop. ‘Or my father’s before me, I’m quite sure. I’d put it to him once that he should have the fund run in perpetuity by a wholly unrelated board, but it was too late by then. It had been left to rot. Then he died, and the market stammered, and the only way to keep the foundation from folding was to take it over.’
‘So why not now?’ she said. ‘Why not put in place the unrelated board thing? You’re young enough and smart enough to walk away and do something new?’
He looked down at her hair, softly falling from a jagged side part. She clearly had no idea that what he had going on with her was the most ‘new’ as he’d done in a long time.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘what I will say is that I might have a heinous cow for a mum, but it sounds like your parents were total crap.’
Unbelievably, he laughed. Loud. It echoed off the close walls of the small room. Usually even thinking about that time made him feel as dense and impenetrable as the centre of the earth. As if he needed to be that tough to carry the weight of responsibility. But now? He felt parts of himself shifting like tectonic plates.
‘You’re a funny woman, you know that?’ he said, slanting a glance her way.
Blushing through a grin, Caitlyn nibbled at the nail of her little finger. Dax found her other hand, turned her palm over and slid his fingers across the soft webbing. Her fingers curled into his touch.
And then she placed a neat leg over his and whatever else he’d been thinking was swept away by a blast of desire.
‘Something you want?’ he asked.
‘I thought now was as good a time as any to apologise.’
‘For?’
‘Tears, tantrums, family dramas. I know you didn’t sign up for that. So, sorry. And thanks. For staying. Th
ough in my own defence I did warn you to go.’ At the last she smiled and shuffled closer, her softness gliding against him.
‘So you did.’ His hands went to her ankle, slipping beneath the wide-cut fabric, kneading their way up the smooth muscle of her calf. She curled and uncurled, like a cat waking from a long hot sleep.
‘Anyway, it’s all your fault,’ she said, her voice growing breathy as her eyes turned dark.
‘That I stayed?’ he asked, only half paying attention to her words. His fingers had found the soft spot behind her knee, which was going a good ways to putting the past hour behind him.
‘That I forgot Dad’s anniversary.’
His hands stilled. For only a moment. ‘How do you figure that?’
‘I was...distracted. I’m distracted a lot lately.’
‘It’s a busy time, what with the launch coming up.’
She closed her eyes, her hand now playing with the hair at the back of his neck. ‘Dax, I was in the middle of an interview with a motoring magazine last week when I had to ask the reporter to repeat her question. I was meant to be thinking about the Z9’s chassis specs and instead I was caught thinking about your hands.’
Her words hung between them, thick and seductive. ‘My hands are right here,’ he said, inching them up her leg until her head dropped back and her breath escaped in a heady sigh. This was what he’d gone there for. This all-consuming heat. ‘And if you just stop talking for one damn minute,’ he growled, ‘you might actually get the chance to live the daydream.’
Laughing, blushing, she lifted her hand to her hair and she stiffened. Her mouth forming a shocked ‘O’. ‘No, no, no. I must look a treat. Give me two minutes—’
‘Not on your sweet life.’
She made to move.
He stopped her by taking her other leg. He swung it onto his lap and she could no longer be in any doubt as to the heat pumping through his body. ‘Didn’t I mention my fetish for women with puffy eyes and croaky voices?’