by Ally Blake
“So, I have news,” he said.
“Such as?”
“You had a crush on me in high school.”
Harper froze.
“When Amy heard Adele she told Tad, who told Weston, who told me. I figured it was nothing more than Chinese whispers but by the look on your face... Wow. It’s true.”
Realising she’d just given herself away, Harper only groaned louder.
The entire booth shook as Cormac sat back in the seat. Harper’s gaze crept sideways to find him sitting with his head against the wall, looking at the ceiling.
“How did I not know this?” he asked.
“Nobody knew! Okay, so people probably knew. But everyone was too scared to call me on it. You probably don’t remember, because it’s now clear you had no idea who I was, but I was a bit scary in high school.”
His head tipped sideways, until Harper found herself tangled in those intense dark eyes. Then his gaze narrowed as it moved to her hair, her cheeks, her mouth.
“I remember darker hair, wild curls. Doc Marten boots. Flyers and demands for action. And you were one of those really smart kids, the extension kids, right? Were you even in my biology class once?”
Harper scrunched up her face. “Yeah, that pretty much covers it. While you...”
She couldn’t help herself—her gaze travelled over his face, cataloguing the changes in him: the firm jaw, the lines at the corners of his eyes, the scar cutting through his right eyebrow. Before also finding all the things that had drawn her to him in the first place—the smiling mouth, the size of him, as if he could protect the world, and those warm, magnetic eyes.
“You were like this handsome prince. Your whole gang always laughing and leaning all over one another, ruling the school. It was pretty seductive for a serious loner like me.”
Cormac’s gaze hardened for a fraction of a second. “I was lucky to have them. But you know we weren’t all that we seemed.”
She did. Now. But those memories were hard to budge.
“Anyway, back to that crush of yours—”
“No. Uh-uh. That subject is closed. It was many years ago when I was young and stupid.”
“I can’t imagine you were ever all that young. Or stupid for that matter. Hang on, I remember a speech. Wasn’t that you who accused the school board of fascism because of the sexist uniform policy?”
“Yep. That was me. I was quite the little radical.” Her dad had loved it. Loved her sticking it to the man.
Ironic that after he’d left it had been those radical instincts that had saved her; in scrapping, in fighting, in keeping a low profile so that Lola wasn’t taken away from her.
Harper wondered what else he might soon remember. Such as the last thing he’d ever said to her before leaving school. When he’d dismissed her so wholly, as if she was no more than a fly buzzing by his ear.
She dared not ask. Not when his eyes dropped to her mouth and made her feel anything but irrelevant.
“So, are we going to do this?” he asked, his deep voice curling beneath her defences.
Harper’s gaze dropped to his mouth too and she remembered how it had felt on hers. She wanted to. God how she wanted to. But if there was ever a time when she needed to see the world in black and white, this was it.
“I’m not sure that I can.”
“We are making up our own rules, remember?”
“Then my number one rule is to not do anything I’ll soon regret.”
“What’s to regret? You have a thing against devastatingly handsome lawyers?”
“I have a thing against devastatingly handsome lawyers with dibs on themselves.”
“So, you do think I’m handsome. Knew it!”
He punched the air like a jock after a touchdown and Harper couldn’t help but laugh. Then she said, “Let me put it this way: Lola. Gray. Enough said.”
His voice dropped as he said, “Did it not occur to you that Lola and Gray conspired to get us in here together?”
Harper opened her mouth to deny him then thought about how Gray had come out of the booth right as Lola had shoved her in. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“How?”
“I...can’t.”
“You...won’t. It’s not the same thing. Huh.”
“What?”
“I never would have thought of you as a coward, but here we are.”
Harper knew he was goading her. Calling her chicken in order for her to bite back and give him what he wanted. But this wasn’t school. Thank goodness.
She was a grown woman.
And he was all man. God, the scent of him filling the cramped cubicle was like fresh laundry and sunshine, with an undercurrent of male desire.
She didn’t realise she’d been staring at him, while nibbling at the inside of her bottom lip, until Cormac’s gaze darkened, nostrils flaring, throat working.
Then he said, “Just so we’re clear, when I said, ‘Are we going to do this?’ I meant, ‘Are we going to take the photos?’”
“You did not.”
A smile spread slowly over Cormac’s mouth. Then he leant over to touch the magic button. On the machine. Not her magic button. That would have been—
Harper shook her head as a wave of sensation rushed over her, threatening to make her swoon.
The machine began to whir as it warmed up, loaded the film, or whatever it did to ready itself.
“I never knew you enough to give you a lock of hair, so we’ll get you your keepsake today,” Cormac said. “Every girl with a crush deserves one—it’s the least I can do.”
“Seriously—”
A flash went off, filling the small box with light and—
Click.
“What? Was that a photo?” Of her gawping at Cormac while he smiled gorgeously towards the lens?
“Next one’s only a few seconds away,” he warned, shuffling to put his arm around her.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered as she tucked herself into his side. The heat of him washed over her, his scent filling her lungs. She puffed out a breath between pursed lips and—
Click.
“I wasn’t ready!” she cried.
“Just sit still and smile.”
“Okay.”
At the last second, he turned and kissed her on the cheek.
Click.
“Cormac!”
She turned to chastise him, only to find him so close they bumped noses. She froze. He nudged her nose once more, this time with purpose.
Then he leaned in and kissed her, this time pressing his lips gently, so gently, against her lips.
And whatever she’d been about to say slipped right out of her head as sweet, painful longing overtook every other feeling.
Click.
Harper’s eyes flickered open, slowly, unsurely. To find Cormac on his feet and sweeping the velvet curtain aside.
While Harper couldn’t move. The sounds of the party slowly came back to her—laughter, music, chatter. The ground beneath her feet felt unstable, as if it was tipping and swaying. As if she didn’t know which way was left any more. Which way right.
Things didn’t just happen to Harper, not any more. She’d made sure of it. She was her own boss. She took on the jobs she wanted to take on. She had no problem with saying no. She was in charge of her destiny.
But this place was undoing her. This man... He worried she wouldn’t let herself feel vulnerable. Nervous. Scared. With him that was all she felt.
If she didn’t get a handle on things and soon, she feared she might never quite get a hold of the strong, grounded, serious parts of herself again.
It was time to take back control.
She reached up and grabbed Cormac’s hand. He stopped, looked back at her, eyes questioning.
�
�You want to get out of here?”
He didn’t even hesitate, didn’t draw breath as he said, “Hell, yeah.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
DESPITE THE WARM summer weather, they were about as close as one could get to Antarctica while still remaining on mainland Australia, meaning a crisp chill had well and truly fallen over Blue Moon Bay.
Cormac changed down a gear as they neared the coastal road gouged into the cliff-side.
Beside him Harper pulled up the collar of the jacket he’d insisted she borrow, and leant back against the headrest, watching the sky. He snuck a glance before the road became too precarious. Drank in her hooded eyes, long, tip-tilted nose and those tempting full lips.
He knew how soft those lips were. He knew the taste of them, the heat. He knew the sounds that came from them as she melted in his arms.
She folded her arms over her chest and sighed.
“Don’t get stars like this where you live,” Cormac said.
“We get great stars. Have you been to Dubai?”
“Stopover only.” He couldn’t remember on the way to where. Once he’d left home at eighteen, with only days to go before he finished high school, he hadn’t stopped there. Studying abroad, and working all hours so he could see the world.
So he could keep moving. So he didn’t have to look back.
“Did you never think about staying in the States?” she asked. “Or England? London could well be my favourite city.”
Cormac swallowed. It had been his too. “I’m pretty sure we’ve covered this ground already.”
She waved a hand his way. “That was before.”
Before what exactly? Before they’d taken off in his car after disappearing from a party they should not have disappeared from. Before they’d kissed. Before they’d begun to find ways to be together as much as humanly possible.
“What is the answer you’re looking for, Harper?”
She breathed out, long and loud, and said, “I don’t know.”
Excellent. Then they were both on the same page. Because he had no clue what he was doing here either.
Leaving Gray’s bucks’ night without saying a word was not like him at all. He’d spent his adult life taking pains never to put his own needs over the needs of others in an effort to make sure he never even came close to becoming his father.
Now he was in the car with no idea as to where they might end up.
Then, like a little gift, he saw a familiar turn in the road.
He slowed, shifted down a gear. The low-slung chassis juddered as they edged onto the dirt road and curled their way up the hill. Peering through the darkness, he found the two painted posts that pointed the way to the spot he was looking for.
The shale crackled under his tyres as he slowed to a halt just before the land dropped away once more, and the lights of the town shimmered down below.
“Where are we?’ Harper asked. Then she sat bolt upright, his jacket falling a little off one creamy shoulder before she hooked it back into place. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“What?”
“This place. This is...” Her voice lowered as she said, “Kissing Point.”
He leaned a mite towards her, his voice dropping to match. “And we’re the only ones here. So why are we whispering?”
She looked around, and sat back in her seat. “How many girls you must have brought up here.”
“Just one, mainly.”
“Right. Tara Parker.”
Cormac’s mouth twitched. He’d taken the “high-school crush” thing with a grain of salt. But all these years later she remembered the name of his senior girlfriend? Well, what do you know?
Deciding to see how deep it went, he lay back against the headrest and said, “Ah, Tara. Oh, how you brought happiness and light to a young man’s life.”
Harper’s look was blistering. “Wow. Heartfelt. Are you still in touch?”
Cormac turned a little to face her, his knee bumping hers. She noticed. Eyes widening. Breath hitching. But she didn’t shift away.
“We are,” he said. “Social media. We occasionally bump into one another at the supermarket, or a party every now and then. She married Josh Cantrell.”
Harper’s nose twitched. Not a Josh fan, then. Cormac didn’t blame her. The guy was a douche.
“They have four sons under the age of five.”
“Four? Good lord.”
“Amen.” Then, “You really want to know why I came home?”
“Yeah,” she said, “I really do.”
He considered his words. Considered making a joke, which was often his way when things edged towards tension.
In the end he went with the truth. “I had an epiphany.”
“Did you just?”
“Oh, yeah. A big one. The kind that smacks you across the back of your head so hard you see stars. I figured out the meaning of life.”
“Wow. So it was a big epiphany.”
“The biggest.”
“Care to share?”
“The meaning of life? Sure. It’s about figuring out what makes you happy and doing more of that.”
He waited for Harper’s zinger, for offering such an idealistic notion was sure to invite derision. But it never came. Instead she watched him with those quixotic hazel eyes of hers.
Then she lifted a hand to swipe a lock of hair from her cheek. A shaking hand. And he wished he knew what the hell he’d said. Something that had made it past that big, thick wall of self-protection she wore like a walking safe room.
Yet he was well aware of how she reacted when pushed, so he let it be, looking out across the lights of Blue Moon Bay instead.
Keeping his voice light, he said, “For me that means surfing. This glorious old car. Old movies. True friends.” He paused, holding the last on the list on the back of his tongue, as it had always felt like a private need, a secret too close to home, before he felt as if she needed to know it, more than he needed to hold it in. “It also means doing good work, for good people, that makes me feel of use.”
He spared a glance for Harper, to find her looking out across the town. “What makes you happy, Harper?”
She breathed in deep, breathed out hard. For a moment he thought she was too caught up in her thoughts to have heard him, before her brow furrowed and she said, “Money in the bank. Mostly for the freedom it brings with it, but also the ability to buy shoes without checking the price.”
“I hear that.”
She lowered her eyes as a smile flashed across her face. Then added, “I love crisp, clean sheets. Room service. A long, hot shower under a showerhead with oomph.” Cormac turned to face her a little more. Watching her eyes as she spoke; her cheekbones—the kind Hitchcock would have killed to light; the curve of a mouth built to drive a man out of his mind.
She turned to face him too, her eyes lit with an inner fire as she said, “I love standing in front of a boardroom filled with suits and knowing that I’m in control. That I am there because those smart, powerful, lauded people caused a right mess, and I’m the only one who can fix it. And when all’s said and done they legally agree to follow my recommendations and do as I say.”
That he did not doubt for a second.
“But it’s not about the power trip. It’s about making things right. About turning what has become an explosive situation that could break people into a fair, thoughtful compromise in which nobody loses their house.”
Cormac’s next breath out was tough.
She presented to the world like a professional ball breaker, but he’d known she was more. He wouldn’t have been so drawn to her if beneath the implacable exterior he hadn’t been able to sense her big heart.
But, he wanted to know, did any of those things make her happy?
Her voice seemed far away as she said, “But you know what?”
<
br /> “What?”
“I would gladly give all of that away if that’s what it took to make sure Lola was happy.”
“She is.”
She swallowed, her throat working as she said, “So it would seem.”
“So what will you do now? Where does all that fierce focus of yours go?”
She opened her mouth and shut it again, doing a fine impression of a fish out of water.
“More long, hot showers, perhaps? More time to squish suits under the heels of your expensive shoes?”
Her mouth tightened, her focus coming back on line. “Like you can talk.”
“What does that mean?”
Her chin rose, heat swirling behind her sultry hazel eyes, as she said, “What is it you do exactly? I mean, from what I’ve seen you surf, you chat up the customers and you drive people around. But there has to be more.”
Cormac laughed, the sound coiling deep inside of him and holding on tight. He was a smart man. He knew how she reacted any time they came anywhere close to intimacy. She was baiting him to keep him at arm’s length.
Hell, he’d just admitted to himself that he did the same thing, only he used humour to keep anything too close to real conversation at bay.
This push-pull dynamic was completely new to him. She was abrasive, stubborn, and she made him itch, but the attraction was undeniable. Damn scary, in fact, how fast it had come on. How deep it already went. Especially when he still wasn’t all that sure he trusted her.
By this point he was acting on gut instinct alone.
The same instinct that had him saying, “The Chadwick companies are more than just a clothing brand. We are sports equipment designers. We own manufacturing plants, real estate, restaurants, shipping and logistics businesses as well as many other concerns. We work hard to put as much business back into the region as we can, in order to keep the local economy booming, but we also build and serve every community in which we run. We employ thousands of workers across the globe. All our products are made using adult labour with fair pay. We run more than one charity under the Chadwick umbrella—medical research, domestic violence shelters, educational scholarships—with ninety per cent of all monies raised going direct to the beneficiaries. And of all that I am lead counsel.”
