The Secret Wedding Dress

by Ally Blake

  ‘It’s fine,’ Paige said into his silence. ‘You don’t have to tell me anything about your life if it makes you uncomfortable. Honestly.’ But by the down-turned edges of her beautiful mouth he knew it was anything but fine.

  Letting him in the cab had been her way of offering him a second chance. And he was going to take it. He needed a mental run-up. Even while the gist of his ignominy was public record, proof that even all these years later there was no getting away from it, talking about that time was … difficult. But if it came down to talking, or saying goodbye then and there …

  Gabe wiped both damp hands down the sides of his thighs and talked. ‘When I said the sharing of privileged information has serious consequences, it’s because I know from direct experience. I talked too much once and it nearly cost me everything. So you can understand how I need to be careful about such things.’

  ‘How did you screw up?’

  Those big blue eyes of hers looked right into him. Drawing him in like a siren song. And even as he told himself the song was not meant for him he said, ‘A woman. A blonde.’

  Paige curled a swathe of her golden hair around a finger.

  ‘No,’ he said, answering her unspoken question. ‘Not like you at all.’

  Her eyes swept back to his, darker now. ‘Girlfriend? Fiancée? Wife?’

  ‘Friend. With benefits.’

  A smile ghosted across her face. ‘A bit like me, then.’

  Gabe shook his head. ‘Not unless you are my lead for a company I’m investing in, but spying for my direct competition at the same time. ‘

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Indeed. My rival, who couldn’t find a good idea with two hands and a flashlight, leaked our relationship to the Australian Securities Commission, which led to an investigation.’ Gabe looked out of the window. It had started to rain. The city lights now reflecting off the shining black road, the swish of tyres on the wet surface strangely soothing, considering how fast and frantic his heart was beating. ‘We were cleared, but that kind of thing sticks.’

  ‘Why did she do it?’

  ‘Money, and a lot of it, for making me, a complete stranger to her before that point, look criminal at worst, incompetent at best. She wrote me a year or so after, explaining. Her husband had left her, and taken their kids and their cash and disappeared. She needed the money to find him.’

  ‘She was desperate,’ Paige said, as if it was no excuse, but maybe she understood a little.

  Gabe turned back to find her knees had swung to face him and were mere millimetres from his own. His gaze fixated on the shadow beneath the stretch of red fabric at her thighs and his solar plexus clenched. ‘You don’t stumble into that kind of thing all the time in home wares?’

  She moved a little, the dress rode higher and he had to grip the seat so as not to slide a hand up her warm thigh. She said, ‘We did believe our catalogue images were stolen once. Turned out the intern had let a virus into the system when she was downloading a fake version of Angry Birds and it had eaten every image on file.’

  ‘Not the same thing, then,’ he said, his voice dry.

  ‘Not so much.’

  The cabbie finished his song, and in the silence Paige’s chest rose and fell in a hypnotic rhythm. Now fixated on the silky frill that fluttered over her right breast every time she breathed, Gabe found himself saying, ‘We were on top of the world right when it happened, and afterwards so near bankruptcy Nate was living on sandwiches and I was living on the crusts so that every spare cent could stay in the business. My only choice was to take myself out of the picture, while still doing the thing I did best, to give BonaVenture a chance. And I’ve been travelling ever since.’

  Her long lashes swept swiftly against her soft cheeks and she looked long and hard at the middle of his chest. Every muscle within touching distance of that gaze clenched. ‘How long ago was this?’ she asked.

  ‘Seven years.’

  ‘About the time your gran Gabriella died.’ Not a question. A statement. And, hell, if he couldn’t remember even having told her.

  His voice was gruff as he said, ‘About then.’

  ‘You were what? Mid-twenties? That’s a lot to deal with. Especially for someone so young.’

  Again with the understanding, he thought, but even he didn’t fall for the nonchalant act. Instead he remembered with a piercing kind of immediacy how adrift he’d felt at that time. Anchorless. As if he’d lost his moral compass right as he’d hit the jackpot with money and success. Hell, no wonder he’d been easy pickings for the first woman who’d tried.

  Her voice sang to him through the murky haze. ‘BonaVenture Capital? Like the sponsors of the tennis? And that race before the Melbourne Cup, that’s the BonaVenture Stakes, right?’

  Gabe nodded again. Not that he’d known any of that before he’d read about it in the prospectus these last weeks.

  ‘Well, it seems to me that, whatever you did, it worked. You lost your glass slipper for a while, but in the end you found it again.’ And then she smiled, a soft, perceptive smile, and her eyes turned that particular shade of deep melting blue they only seemed to turn when they found him.

  The image snapped something inside him. He felt it lodge in his ribs, like a Polaroid jammed in the corner of a mirror. A moment he should never forget. Then before he could stop himself he said, ‘We’re listing the company on the stock market. That’s why I came back.’

  He waited for the cold hard grip of panic to envelop him at what he’d revealed. But it never came. Instead he felt as if a fist that had been clenched deep inside him for as long as he could remember had unfurled and let go.

  ‘Well, there you go. There’s your happy ending,’ she said, brightly, clearly having no idea what he’d given her. Or what he’d given himself. Then, ‘I assume lips sealed on that one? No telling Mae?’

  ‘Paige, about that—’

  ‘Oh, shut up. She’s the biggest blabber mouth this side of Antarctica. But I’m the only one who’s allowed to say it. Capiche? And thanks for telling me.’

  She leaned in then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and kissed him. Her lips were warm and sweet, the gentle flick of her tongue over his bottom lip incendiary.

  When she pulled back she looked into his eyes and grinned. If her smudged lipstick was anything to go on he knew why. He was man enough to own a red pout for a kiss like that any day of the week. She unbuckled her belt, slid across the seat and leant on his shoulder. He belted her in, safe. Her scent curled into his nose, her sweet, luscious body nestled against his side, and he gave the cabbie directions to Docklands in a tone that meant the sooner the better.

  He watched the familiar buildings slide by in silence. He’d always thought Melbourne looked its best in the rain. It brought lustre to the dark architecture. That night the city fair glittered back at him, like the facets of a jewel.

  And Gabe realised whatever happened after this, without the secrets pressing against the inside of his skull as they had for so very long, for the first time in a long time he could see the flicker of brilliance at the corner of his eye.

  Gabe walked Paige from the lift to her apartment door. He stood back, hands in his pockets, as she unlocked her front door, not wanting to fracture the delicate peace they somehow seemed to have carved out of the chaos of the evening.

  Once the door was ajar she turned to him, her hand against his chest, small, warm, yet strong enough to make him feel as if it held his heart at bay. ‘One more question.’

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘This blonde who caused you all that trouble. Was she a natural blonde?’

  He coughed out a laugh. ‘Lydia?’ he said, the name not creating the same swell of acid in his stomach as it used to. He thought about it. ‘I’m not sure that she was.’

  ‘Then there was your problem,’ she said, her eyes meeting his. ‘You should stick to natural blondes only in future.’

  ‘I’ll take that under advisement.’

  They stood t
hat way for a few beats, or a few minutes, how the hell was he to know? He was caught in those big blue eyes, and that gentle barely there touch had him rooted to the spot.

  Then she stepped aside. ‘Coming in?’

  After the night they’d had Gabe wondered if it might be for the best to kiss her goodnight and head up to bed. To let the things they’d shared settle a while.

  For about a tenth of a second he wondered, before he stepped over her threshold and sank his hand into her glorious hair, and pressed his mouth, his body, his self as wholly against her as it was possible to do while upright and fully clothed.

  He’d been invited after all.

  CHAPTER TEN

  GABE burst into Nate’s office the next morning at eight sharp. ‘We’re not selling!’

  Nate looked up from his position on the floor by the window where he was twisting himself into some kind of pretzel shape on a mat.

  Gabe’s heels all but screeched on the rug as he pulled to a screaming halt. He cleared his throat and looked away. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ll come back when you’re not … doing that.’

  Nate pulled himself neatly to standing and wiped a hand across his sweating brow. Motioning to the mat with an elbow as he downed half a bottle of water, he said, ‘Yoga. Good for stress relief. You should try it.’

  Gabe looked pointedly around Nate’s princely office as he sank into a butter-soft leather couch. ‘What have you got to be stressed about?’

  Nate snorted. ‘Now, what was it you stormed in here so early in the morning to declare?’

  ‘Don’t list the company,’ Gabe said. ‘Don’t sell.’

  Nate leant his backside against his desk and watched Gabe for a long moment. Then he asked, ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ve been up all night rereading the contracts. All of them.’ Well, much of the night. The first half he’d spent in Paige’s bed. It was soft, cool, and he’d found it nearly as difficult to leave it behind as his own. But fuelled by a kind of boyish energy he hadn’t felt in years he’d felt a need to do the job he’d come there to do. So he’d kissed her goodnight and gone back to his apartment where he’d downed about a keg of coffee and read. ‘I needed to understand what we’ve achieved. And what we’d be giving up. After what we’ve gone through to get here? To hell with that.’

  ‘Okay, then,’ Nate said. He moved around his desk, picked up the phone and asked his assistant to get ‘John’ on the phone as soon as he was in, then put down the phone with a soft click. ‘So you’re in for the long haul?’

  ‘That’s what it said on the beer coaster.’

  At that Nate’s cool finally gave way. He grinned from ear to ear. And it was done. No over-thinking, over-talking, making things more complicated than they had to be. Just two men, making a decision that set the course for the rest of their lives.

  Nate moved to the far wall where a bar was hidden discreetly inside a bookshelf. Like something Rock Hudson would have had in his apartment in some old Doris Day movie. Gran would have liked that. Would have liked this. Gabe’s mouth kicked into a half smile.

  Gabe took the imported pony-necked beer on offer, even while it was eight in the morning, and the two men clinked bottles before taking a hearty swig. The bubbles burned down Gabe’s throat. Cold, sharp, invigorating. As if his body were fresh and hollow and waiting for the filling.

  Nate said, ‘Would have been more dramatic if you’d waited until the meeting with the Securities Commission.’

  ‘Thought that’s what I was doing, hence the volume of my proclamation.’

  ‘They’re due at nine. Did you actually read any of the internal memos I CC’d you these past weeks?’

  ‘I figured if there was anything of grave importance you’d make sure I knew.’

  Nate ran a hand over the back of his neck. ‘Tell me again why I wanted you back?’

  ‘My winning personality.’

  Nate’s eyebrows lifted till they all but disappeared into his hairline.

  And so they continued, offending one another and knocking back beers until they were gloriously sloshed. When BonaVenture’s lawyer called back a half-hour later, listening to the poor guy go off his nut was the most fun Gabe’d had at work in ages. And he wondered why it was he’d not come home sooner.

  Paige pushed her way through the heavy glass doors leading to the head office of Ménage à Moi. She shielded her eyes against the overbright twinkles from the coloured glass chandelier above, her heels catching in the thick cream carpet as she trudged down the hall towards her office.

  Her mind was like mud. Making love to Gabe half the night was only half the problem, as from the minute he’d left she’d had not a wink of sleep. After the drama of the date, the delicateness of the cab ride, and the sweet glorious way Gabe had made love to her all through the night, she’d been consumed by the sudden need to put it all into a neat little box. The feelings, and fears, and flutterings filling her as she’d lain there staring at her dark ceiling were so far beyond the bounds of her experience, if she didn’t control them she feared they’d control her.

  Crap, crap, crappity-crap!

  Susie, her assistant, looked up from her cubicle with a start, and Paige realised she’d shouted that last bit out loud. She was re-e-eally going to have to stop doing that.

  ‘Morning, boss. Guess who got a delivery?’ Susie said, leaping from her chair and rushing to sweep Paige’s office door open. ‘Look.’

  As if she could have missed it. A gargantuan bunch of flowers in a vase on her big glass desk—effusive, lush blooms of creams and greens—swamped everything else in the room. The feelings, fears, and flutterings smacking into one another as they went crazy inside her, Paige reached for the card with shaking fingers. Opened it.

  The message was simple. Cryptic. And not from Gabe.

  I owe you one, it read, signed Nate Mackenzie.

  Gabe’s business partner? What on earth would he be thanking her for—?

  Oh, God. The one and only time they’d talked he’d asked for a favour. He’d wanted her to use her influence to get Gabe to stay.

  A rush of warm, hopeful, luxuriant, dangerous feelings swarmed her, so fierce and scattered she hadn’t a hope in hell of controlling them.

  She shoved the card back into the envelope and said, ‘Thanks, Susie.’

  Susie bounded on her toes, clearly desperate to ask about the flowers, but it was as clear that her boss wasn’t about to spill the juice. She shut the door quietly on her way out.

  Paige turned the glossy white wooden blinds until they let in as little sunlight as possible, threw her jacket and scarf over the pewter stand in the corner, then slowly sat in her chair. She moved the mouse to bring her monitor to life, clicked on the memo icon on the screen and tried to start her day. But the ridiculous spray of flowers occupying the left side of her vision taunted her. She gave up and reached out and ran her fingers over a pale velvety petal.

  Was Gabe staying? He hadn’t said anything about it last night. And for him he’d said a lot. So she couldn’t dare hope. She couldn’t dare discount it either. Either way, the time had come for damage control. To protect herself, as she had done her whole life.

  Of course the most sensible thing to do was end it now. She laughed so loud she expected Susie to come running. Who was she kidding? She no more had the wherewithal to end it now than to chop off her own leg. But it would end. Whether quick and painful, or slow and painful, these things always did.

  Paige bent over until her head thunked on her desk.

  If she had any hope of getting off this roller coaster with an ounce of self-respect, she had to do whatever it took to make sure Gabe never guessed how she felt. She was going to have to remind him what their relationship was all about: not dates and feelings and impossible hopes.

  She only hoped it wasn’t too late.

  When Gabe got home that evening he felt as if he were walking on air. He and Nate had spent the better part of the day in Nate’s office, laughing, reminiscing, ordering
in take-out, while the rest of the office went bonkers. Turned out one of the nice things about being such a success was that they could pay other people to deal with the fallout.

  The day only got better when he walked into his apartment to find Paige sitting on his kitchen bench, toying with his flamingo mobile-phone holder. Her long legs crossed at the knees and the setting sunlight slicing between the buildings, creating gold, pink, and hot orange streaks across her body. Her naked body.

  ‘Evening,’ she said, a slumberous smile playing about her gorgeous mouth. Then she pulled a strawberry from a bowl beside her and slid it between her lips. The ripe red fruit popping in her mouth before her tongue swept out to lick away the juice. ‘Want some?’

  Heat sliced through his body in a devastating wave and his feet forgot how to move. She was every Sam Spade fantasy any man had ever had but with one big difference. She was real. Flesh and blood. Soft skin and softer lips and—He was so hard so fast he couldn’t think any more.

  He dropped his laptop bag to the floor, and went to her; the last truly coherent thought was that he ought to speak to Sam the Super about security.

  He was so hot for her it should have been over in half a minute, but the second his lips met hers, he tasted strawberry on his tongue, absorbed the warmth in her soft bare skin sliding against his palms, something shifted. And the whole world became still.

  His eyes found hers, looking to see if she felt it too, but the sun’s rays shimmered too bright in all that liquid blue. He tucked her hair behind her ears, and as she sucked in a short, sharp breath he saw it. Desire, need, anticipation. And something a lot like awe. Hit with an emotional wallop he couldn’t hope to decipher in his rigid state, he knew there was no way to tell her how she made him feel. He’d have to show her.

  Even as he burned with an ache he could barely contain, he slid an arm beneath her knees, and carried her to his room, his eyes not leaving hers. She blinked fast. Her breaths coming hard. And clasped her hands together behind his neck.