by Leah Ashton
‘How, exactly?’
Her friend turned her head on the chair’s arm to look at her. ‘I thought you needed to go out and have some fun. And I like that you finally did something even vaguely less than sensible.’
Lanie rolled her eyes. ‘I slept with my boss, then quit my job without any other source of income.’
‘See?’ Teagan said. ‘That’s so unlike you. I like it.’
Lanie had to laugh.
‘It’s addictive, you know,’ Teagan said. ‘Doing impulsive things. Living your life in the moment.’ She studied Lanie as if pondering something. ‘It’s a real pity you didn’t get more than a weekend with this guy. Stretch the fun out a bit longer, you know?’
Lanie had told Teagan everything—almost.
She’d described the Night Market, their walks along the beach, that kiss on top of his kitchen bench...
But what she hadn’t spoken about was the details. Their conversations. The sense she’d gotten sometimes that she was seeing a part of Grayson Manning that others didn’t get to see—when he talked to her about his doubts, his father, or even his unusual view of relationships. And along with that came the knowledge that she had shared more with Gray then she’d shared with anyone—even Teagan.
He knew how to slide beneath her defences. He seemed to understand her. To get her. To push her buttons.
And she was different around him. It was ironic—the man who’d once made her feel invisible had triggered a...a quiet confidence, maybe. Definitely an edge. Gray’s behaviour had pushed her to stand up for herself, to say what she was thinking.
To do what she wanted.
And where had that got her?
To her mum’s lounge room, with a demolished box of chocolates and too much wine for a week night.
* * *
Gray sank back into his office chair. He didn’t relax into it because he certainly wasn’t relaxed. He more collapsed, actually.
Because that phone call had just made it official. He’d sold one villa—to Raquel—and that was it. The other investors were out.
Logically, he knew this wasn’t a big deal. He’d had projects before that had been more of a slow burn. Others had sold in weeks, snapped up immediately. But then, this was something different for Manning. A new venture. He should expect progress to be slow. A delay was not a disaster. Yes, he had more capital than he’d like tied up in the resort. But they would sell. He did truly believe that. He needed to trust his instincts, to believe this development had been a savvy business decision. He’d entered a growing market at the right time. He would make money on this.
He did believe that.
But looking at the situation logically didn’t make it any less frustrating. It didn’t stop him from really, really needing some caffeine.
He leant forward again, lifting his hands above the keyboard to type out an instant message—but then paused. His new assistant was good. Über-efficient.
But really he was perfectly capable of getting his own coffee.
Besides, maybe a walk would do him good.
Was it the new venture? Or him?
Or, even better, a run.
* * *
It was mid-afternoon, so he hadn’t really expected to see Lanie at the beach.
Still, he found himself scanning the waves for her, for that familiar way her body cut through the water.
She wasn’t there, of course.
He ran hard, his feet leaving deep imprints in the wet sand as he propelled himself through the shallows.
He wanted to tell Lanie about what had happened today.
As he’d driven home he’d considered calling his dad instead.
But what was the point?
Gray already knew exactly what he’d tell him—and it would be no different to what he was already telling himself.
He just needed to carry on as he always had. To ride this wave and not let his frustration impact on the way he did business. Maybe it had in Vietnam, and the fact he’d allowed that possibility was infuriating. It couldn’t and wouldn’t happen again.
He hadn’t changed. Manning hadn’t changed. Eventually everyone would realise that.
He just wished they’d hurry up.
So, while his dad would understand, would be reassuring and say all the right things, going to him would feel as if he was doing exactly what many people seemed to think he’d always done: running to his dad for help. He hadn’t done that and he wasn’t going to start now. Gray was Manning now. On his decisions, his ideas, the company’s success or failure rested.
So, no, he wasn’t about to go running to his father. But he did want Lanie.
Not for business advice, or to tell him it was going to be okay—or anything meaningless like that. He wanted her because she understood this. She understood what it felt like to want something so badly and to be ultimately the only one in charge of your fate. When it came down to it, it had been just Lanie alone in that swim-lane. And it was Gray alone at Manning.
Gray’s run slowed right down to a jog, then to a walk as he took big, heaving, breaths.
He looked out onto the ocean—out to the distance from shore where Lanie usually swam.
This beach was a world away from any aquadic stadium.
The kind of stadium she’d never return to.
For the first time the reality of that hit Gray.
All along he’d compared Lanie to himself. He’d sensed her passion, her drive to achieve. And he’d pushed her, unable to comprehend that a woman like her could be satisfied working for him. Could be satisfied without a new dream to chase.
But that was the thing. It was not possible to compare their dreams.
Here he was, furious with himself for a less than successful business transaction.
But he had another chance. Tomorrow. Next year. Next decade.
If he was stupid enough to lose everything, even to lose Manning, he could always start again.
There was no deadline on his dreams as long as he believed in them.
But Lanie...she didn’t get another chance. She didn’t get to go back and try again. To take a different tack, to review her training routine, to wring some non-existent bit of extra speed out of a body he was sure she’d honed to perfection.
She’d done everything right—her absolute best—and it hadn’t been good enough.
She had to live with that. She had no other option.
And he’d been ignorant enough to push her. To question her. To think he was somehow helping by pointing out that she needed something new to strive for.
As if he had a Plan B for his dream. Manning was it. It was everything.
All he had.
His breathing had slowed to normal.
He should go home, have a shower. Maybe go back to work, or at least log into his e-mails from home.
He had lots of work to do. New projects to focus on. New investors to target.
But for once none of that excited him.
All he could think of was Lanie, swimming alone.
* * *
Lanie’s mouth dropped open when she opened her front door.
‘What are you doing here?’
A few weeks ago Gray had watched Lanie fidget outside his house as she over-thought how to leave her present for Luther.
Tonight Gray had done exactly the same thing. He still didn’t know if this was a good idea—but it was too late now.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
Lanie raised her eyebrows. ‘I know. You said so in your office. And, just like I said then, you have nothing to apologise for. I knew—’
‘Of course I do,’ he said. ‘And you know it. I’m sorry for being such a bastard that night—because I was—but that isn’t why I’m here.’
She crossed her arms and just looked at him, waiting.
‘Can I come in?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’
He took a deep breath, trying to organise his thoughts.
‘I didn’t get it,’ he said. ‘Actually, I can’t get it. It’s impossible for me to get it. And I’m sorry that I assumed I did.’
Lanie looked at him blankly. ‘Pardon me?’
‘Your swimming,’ he said. Instantly Lanie tensed before his eyes. ‘How you’re feeling. What you should be doing now. I don’t have a clue, and it wasn’t my place to push you. To question you. I had no right, and I’m sorry.’
Her gaze had dropped to the wooden porch they were standing upon, but slowly she lifted her eyes until she met his.
‘You weren’t so wrong,’ she said. ‘You didn’t ask me anything I wasn’t asking myself.’
‘That doesn’t make it okay,’ he said. ‘You’re strong enough to find your own new path.’
‘I am,’ she said with a slight smile. ‘But you probably did speed things up a little. That’s not a bad thing.’
There was a long pause. This was probably the point when he should leave, but he didn’t.
‘I miss the beach,’ he said.
He didn’t need to elaborate. She knew what he meant. Not the beach itself, but the two of them together there. Walking, talking. Laughing.
He could see her wavering, ready to deny him. Her eyes had narrowed and she’d taken a step forward, as if she was going to push him away physically as well as verbally.
But then, it was as if she deflated before his eyes.
‘Me too,’ she said. Then her gaze sharpened and she pasted on a plastic smile. ‘But, hey, it was kind of fun while it lasted, right?’
‘Does it have to end?’ he said.
Her lips firmed into a thin line.
‘You seriously want someone to walk with at the beach each morning?’
She was deliberately taking him literally, not making this easy for him at all.
But, really, could he blame her?
‘I don’t know what I want,’ he said. ‘I just know that I’ve wanted to tell you things—serious things, stupid things—I don’t know how many times in the past weeks.’
Something softened in her gaze, but it was subtle, barely perceptible.
‘And I know that I’ve wanted to touch you. To hold you. To kiss you. A hundred times more often.’
He was doing it again—tapping into this previously undiscovered romantic streak. It bothered him, made him uncomfortable—but not enough for him to wish back the words.
‘What are you saying?’ she asked. ‘That you want more than a weekend together?’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘More than a weekend.’
‘And...’
‘That’s it,’ he said honestly. ‘That’s as far as I’ve got.’
He knew it wasn’t much, but it was all he had right now.
Her arms had dropped to her sides and she took a step forward. Then she seemed to think better of it.
‘So you’re saying we should live in the moment? Keep on doing this together for as long as it lasts?’
He nodded.
‘That’s pretty vague, you know.’
He did.
But then she took another step forward and reached out, touching his hand. He watched as she traced her fingers upwards, along his arm, up his bicep to his shoulder, then, finally curled them behind his neck.
She was close to him now. So close he could barely think.
She stood on tiptoes, her breath warm against his cheek.
‘Okay,’ she said, incredibly softly.
And he knew instinctively that even Lanie hadn’t been sure what she was going to say right up until that moment.
That was how fleeting this was—whatever it was they had.
It wasn’t a good idea. They both knew that.
But kissing her now, beneath the light of her front porch, was the best idea he’d had in weeks. As was picking her up in her arms, despite her immediate half-hearted protest that she was far too heavy, and carrying her inside.
FOURTEEN
Soft conversation drifted into Lanie’s subconscious.
Voices—women’s voices.
She rolled over in her narrow bed and in her half-asleep state found that odd.
A few hours ago she’d definitely not been able to roll over so easily. Instead she’d been rather pleasantly squished up beside Gray.
But clearly he was no longer in her bed.
Lanie’s eyes blinked open.
It was still dark in the room—not even a pre-dawn darkness, but proper, middle-of-the-night black.
She reached out blindly with one hand to turn on her bedside lamp, then flopped back against her pillow. In the corner of the ceiling hung the ocean-blue lantern she’d had made in Hoi An and she stared at it sleepily, thinking.
So Gray hadn’t stayed the night.
Maybe that was how this new ‘living in the moment’ thing was going to work.
Lanie didn’t know how she felt about that. She didn’t know how she felt about the whole thing, actually.
But—no. Wait.
That was Gray’s voice she heard. In the kitchen.
Lanie sat up, suddenly wide awake.
That was Gray’s voice in the kitchen. Talking to her mum. And her sister.
Oh, no...
She leapt to her feet, fumbling about for a shirt to pull on. Moments later she was all but running down the hallway.
And there, in the kitchen, was Gray—in boxer shorts only, a hip propped against the benchtop. Across from him, perched on barstools, were Sienna and Lanie’s mother. A small mountain of luggage sat waiting in the lounge room beyond.
‘I didn’t realise you were back today,’ Lanie managed. She’d been sure it was tomorrow—although, to be honest, she hadn’t paid too much attention. With an early-morning arrival, she’d just assumed she’d wake up one day this week with Sienna and her mum home again.
And of course that day was today—the night Gray was here.
She should have been more careful—but then, last night had hardly been planned.
‘We guessed that,’ Sienna was saying, with a very pointed look in Gray’s direction.
‘I thought someone was breaking in,’ Gray explained, ‘and then realised that was unlikely with their own key.’
Sienna laughed prettily, tossing her blond hair over her shoulders. For a woman who had just been on a plane for twenty-four hours or more, she looked remarkably well rested. And as beautiful as always.
Grey smiled back—men always did around Sienna—but then excused himself to get dressed.
The instant he’d left the room the questions started.
‘Lanie, surely you aren’t...?’
‘Is he your boyfriend?’
‘Who is he?’
Their surprise, shock and disbelief were obvious. And seriously unflattering.
‘He’s a friend,’ she said quickly as Gray returned to the room. Now fully dressed, in jeans and a T-shirt, he was no less attractive than the boxer-shorted Gray.
To keep herself busy Lanie started to fuss around the kitchen making tea, while Gray answered Sandra and Sienna’s questions.
He was doing well, really, given he clearly didn’t want to be there. Lanie didn’t want him to be here, either—this reality of Gray, her mum and her sister together was not one Lanie had ever expected to experience.
Gray said little. He didn’t need to. The two other women filled all the spare conversation space and more. Lanie remained off to the side, watching them as she sipped at tea she didn’t really want. Sienna was in her usual fine, flirt
atious form—that was just who she was. Lanie knew it wasn’t anything more than that, but still it irritated her.
And then Sienna brought out her medals.
As they were fished out of her sister’s handbag and placed carefully in their boxes on the counter, Gray took a step towards Lanie, but she shook her head subtly. No.
Before she removed the lids Sienna’s hand stilled and she met Lanie’s gaze.
Lanie saw concern there. Hesitation.
But she also saw a mixture of excitement and pride—as if her little sister couldn’t wait to show them to her. As if she was desperate for the praise of her big sister.
Lanie had never considered flying to London to watch Sienna swim. At the time she just couldn’t. And she hadn’t regretted it—until now.
Now she wished she’d been there to see these medals the day Sienna had won them.
Lanie smiled—a small smile that became broader when Sienna let out a breath she must have been holding.
Immediately Sienna reached for the boxes, and soon the medals were shining brilliantly beneath the kitchen’s downlights.
They were beautiful, and far bigger than Lanie expected.
She couldn’t help but walk over, reach out and lift one from its padded bed. She weighed it in her hands and ran her thumb over the embossed surface.
Sienna was watching her with a worried expression. So was her mother—and Gray.
But there was no need.
That these medals were Sienna’s—the result of her work, and her dreams and her achievements—was clear.
These medals weren’t about Lanie. Not about her disappointment, or about what would have, might have...could never have been.
With a medal still in her hand, she went to Sienna, wrapped her arms around her and held her tight.
‘I’m so proud of you,’ she whispered.
And it was as simple as that. It was all that mattered.
* * *
Lanie walked Gray to his car. It was about two in the morning, but the idea of Gray returning to her tiny bed now her mother and sister were home seemed ludicrous.
It was perfectly still—still enough that Lanie could just hear the sounds of the ocean at the end of the road. She’d pulled on a pair of jeans, but now wrapped her arms around her body against the cool edge in the salty air.