by Len Webster
Ally bent her knees and set the bottle down. She glanced at the luxury car and then at the plate in her hand. The beating in her heart doubled as adrenaline coursed through her. Sure, the idea she just had would get her in a lot of trouble, but she didn’t care. She was already living, breathing, and dancing in hell as it was.
Her fingers dug into the soft cake and squished it to tighten her grip of the dessert. With a deep breath, she pulled her arm back. “Jaguar, meet cake. Cake, meet Jaguar.”
Suddenly, hands wrapped around her wrist and a deep, raspy voice said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Startled, Ally dropped the plate. The sound of it breaking had the man’s fingers increasing their pressure just that little bit more. “Excuse me?”
“Are you trying to get arrested?”
She kept her eyes on the pristine Jaguar. “What are you? A cop?”
The unknown man with the deep voice chuckled. “The shit I’ve done in my life, no way would I make it as a copper.”
With a shift in her footsteps, she began to turn to face her fun police. “Then why are—” She paused. Her eyes widened at the sight of those light blue eyes. “You,” she breathed.
His lips curved upwards as he lowered her arm, keeping his fingers curled around it. “You,” he repeated in a low voice, “are about to commit a crime.”
Glancing down, she watched as her fun police’s hand left her. The strength of his grip on her was somehow reassuring, causing her heart’s beat to increase. The thumps it made against her ribcage were almost uncomfortable. It was new. And it was definitely interesting.
“You must think I’m insane,” she mumbled.
“Nah, you’re just having a bad night. It happens,” he said. “You mind dropping the cake, Allison?”
She flinched in surprise. “How do you know my name?”
Ally’s brows furrowed as her eyes snapped to his questioning glare. As instructed, she twisted her wrist, loosened her grip, and let the cake fall to the ground.
Fun police’s hands returned to her icing and cake-covered hand. Then his fingers began to brush the mess from her palm. His touch caused a small gasp to pass her lips as each brush left tingles in their wake.
“I heard your father call you that,” he explained.
She peeked at him through her lashes to see his tensed facial features as he kept his focus on her hand. “I’m guessing you heard…”
“Yeah.” His thumb brushed her wrist and caused Ally to shiver. “You cold?” he asked as his eyes met hers.
Everything about him was beautiful, from his short brown hair to a small scar on his strong jaw. His light blue eyes were mesmerising in the moonlight. But it was in the way that he spoke to her that caused the fleeting of air from her lungs.
“No. I’m not.”
He had squinted at her before he let out a low laugh. Then he pulled his button-down shirt from its tucked position and wiped his cake-covered hands on his shirt. When they were clean, he removed his jacket and then took a step closer to her.
“What are you doing?” she asked, unable to keep her voice steady.
“Allison, wipe your cake-covered, almost-crime-committing hand on my shirt. You don’t want to ruin that pretty dress of yours,” he answered in that same low voice as before.
She smiled at him, and just as she was about to tell him no, his jacket wrapped around her. Her lips parted at his gesture and her heart clenched at the sincerity in his smile. Without a single word or thought, Ally raised her hand to his shirt. The kind man in front of her grasped her wrist once again before he directed her palm to settle on his dark-coloured shirt, her fingertips resting on his hard stomach.
With a brush, her right hand trailed across the material until they were as clean as possible. Just as she was about to remove her palm, his fingers entwined with hers. Ally blinked at the way her fingers rested on top of his knuckles. His thumb caressed hers, and the queasy feeling in her stomach intensified at the feel of his touch.
“Come on,” he whispered.
Her eyes snapped to his. “What?”
His brows knitted as he gazed down at her. The man towered over her. “You don’t really want to go back in there, do you?”
Ally pursed her lips. “No. Not particularly but I can’t just go out in the middle of the night with some man I don’t know.”
Laughing, he squeezed her hand lightly. “I’m a friend of Clara’s.”
“And? I’m going to be her sister-in-law. See, I know her, too. Seriously, fun police, I can’t just run off with you.”
His free hand reached up and cupped her cheek. “Fun police? Really?”
“Yeah,” she said softly, relishing the feel of his strong, calloused hand on her.
“If I tell you my name, will you come for a walk with me?” he asked in a whisper, tilting her head higher to keep her eyes on his.
Ally licked her lips and nodded. “But first you have to tell me where we’re going.”
“The Yarra River to talk. You look like you need to.”
She blinked. Ally could tell him right there that she had a suite upstairs where they could talk but she didn’t. She wanted to see where he took her. It was reckless, but if that were what she was known for, then she’d live up to it.
Reckless Ally and Fun Police.
What a pair they made.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
His thumb had brushed her cheek before he dropped it. Her chest throbbed and missed that contact, unable to really compare the emotions that surged through her with any other man she’d been close with or knew.
Then he took a deep breath and uttered, “Robert Moors.”
Ally knew that Robert Moors had taken more than just her breath away and cleaned her hand from her almost cake crime. He’d done so much in that one gesture than most men she had known.
It was the moment Robert Moors had ruined her.
“So?” Rob asked, hopeful that she’d escape the rehearsal dinner with him. He knew he shouldn’t even speak to her, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to know why she thought of herself the way she did. He wanted a moment of her time.
“Do you just take crazy, almost-cake-throwing, and slightly drunk girls away from defacing Jaguars, Robert?” she asked with a slight hint of humour in her voice.
He squeezed her hand then shook his head. “No. Just you, Allison. And you can call me Rob.”
“Well,” she said and took a deep breath. “You can call me Ally.”
He leant in close, his nose just short of brushing hers. “Do all those people call you Ally?”
She glanced down at his lips and then meet his gaze once more. “Yes.”
“Then let me call you Allison,” he urged in a whisper.
“Why?” she asked, sounding breathless.
His thumb brushed the back of her hand. “So I can be someone different to you.”
“Then what should I call you? So I can be someone different to you.”
Instead of answering, he asked, “Will you take that walk with me?”
Allison’s lips curved into a small smile. “Yes. Lead the way.”
Four words.
Four words and his heart had beat faster than when he had won the Under 23 state championships almost four years ago. Her smile was toxic to him, making his body react the way it hadn’t around women before. Unable to tell his lips otherwise, they formed a smile at words.
Her words.
Her voice.
Everything about her had him drawn. Enemy or not, he wanted to be someone different to her. As irrational as it was. Rob nodded then led her down the short steps.
“Then what should I call you? So I can be someone different to you.”
Her previous question had him halting once they had stepped onto the footpath. Rob blinked at the busy street. He stood still, familiarising the way his heart now beat since he had spoken to Allison.
And without a single thought, he softly said, “R
obbie.”
“Excuse me?”
He turned and faced her. Her lips had parted as curiosity gleamed in her eyes. Rob glanced down at his ruined shirt and then took in the way his large jacket consumed her small frame. He felt the thumps in his chest and knew he meant what he had said.
“Call me Robbie, so I can be someone different to you.”
She blinked several times at him as she pressed her lips together. Then she nodded and said, “Okay, Robbie.”
Rob stared at the way Allison stood by the bank, hugging herself as she gazed out at the shimmering river. He sat on the cold bench, mystified at the way her ash-blonde hair moved with the cold wind and giving her a moment with her thoughts. Curious, Rob raised his hand and set his palm against his chest, feeling each and every strong beat. It was different. And he was terrified of what it could potentially mean.
Dropping his hand from his chest, Rob sighed as he began to roll the sleeves of his dress shirt up. When both were rolled up, he stared at the icing on his clothing. He had been on the phone with his brother, Julian, when he had noticed Allison walk out of the hotel and set the champagne bottle on the ground. When she had grasped the cake, he acted quickly, hanging up on his brother to stop her. Had it been any other woman, he’d have left her to her own business. But since he’d overheard her and her father arguing, he couldn’t ignore her. As much as he had wanted to.
Allison’s sigh had him lifting his chin and watching her turn away from the river and walk towards him. When she had reached the bench, she’d sat next to him and brushed her wavy hair behind her ear. They had been by the Yarra for over half an hour. Rob hadn’t interrupted her, allowing her to find some peace from her troubles.
Once her back settled against the bench, Rob reached over and held her right hand. Her fingers threaded through his and they remained quiet, their eyes roaming the Melbourne night.
A long time later, his hand still clutched in hers, Allison finally spoke. “Thank you for this, Robbie.”
His heart faulted at the sound of his nickname rolling from her lips. It had been a long time since someone outside his family had called him Robbie, but it felt natural to hear it from her. All the foreign emotions he’d discovered inside him since their eyes met earlier in the evening felt natural to him. It was confusing to feel that way over someone he didn’t know. However, he did want to know Allison O’Connor; he wanted to see the fire in her eyes and the passion in her voice. But he couldn’t. His loyalty was to Noel.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied.
Allison pulled her hand free then shifted to face him. Rob mirrored her movements until her hazel eyes bore into his, forcing his chest to tighten in a heavy pressure he’d never known until now.
She’d clenched her eyes shut for a few seconds before she exhaled and opened them. “My life and family are incredibly messed up.” Then she tilted her head to stare back at the river. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Things I’m forced to do because they’re my family. I love them but … I don’t want the life they think I’m entitled to. I want to be more than what people think I am.”
“That’s why you and your father were arguing?” he asked.
Allison’s eyes met his, and she nodded with a tight smile. “I’m Ally O’Connor, Sydney’s it socialite because of him. From the time I was sixteen years old, I’ve partied and created a reputation so far from the truth. People either want to be me, hate me, or try to exploit me.”
A pang erupted in his chest. The sadness in her voice was painful to hear. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She shrugged. “You’re the only person to have ever sat down with me and just talked. I’ve never had a man pay much attention to me than when the paparazzi are around.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you? People use you like that?”
“Being linked to me means you can climb the ladder. I’m the girl parents warn their kids not to grow up to be. I’m the girl who gets articles written about her, filled with lies and reasons as to why I’m a slut. Instead of my parents being shamed by all of this, they actually encourage it. People think I’m this terrible person. They don’t ever give me the chance to be something else to them.” The tears ran down her cheeks, and Allison brushed them away with a low chuckle. “Well, that was until I met you, Robbie.”
The exploding warmth from the centre of his chest had pooled into his stomach. Rob swallowed hard at the almost nervous tremors that ran through his body. “If I had ever read one of those articles, I’d have never believed any of it,” he confessed.
Allison blinked at him, her lips parting as she let out a breath of air. Then her hands reached up to cup his face, the sleeves of his jacket bunched around her elbows. “What do you see when you look at me?”
Like his brain had no clear function, Rob’s hands settled on her hips and pulled her closer to him. His breathing heaved at the closeness, loving the feel of her small frame in his palms. “I see a fire that wants to burn. I see it in your eyes. It’s beautiful, Allison. You’re beautiful.”
The stunned expression that overtook her face was mesmerising. Her fluttering eyelids told him that she hadn’t expected his response. Truth be told, he hadn’t either. Her heaving chest made her more alluring to him. And the way she swallowed hard had him infatuated with her, loving the effect he had on her.
“You think I’m beautiful?” she asked in an unsteady voice.
“You don’t think you are?” he answered with another question.
Allison shook her head. “No.”
His fingers dug into her hips. “Then I wish you could see how I look at you, Allison.”
She let out a small gasp as her eyes roamed the features of his face. She appeared indecisive as to how to respond to him. Just as he was about to tell her that they should return, Allison pulled his face closer to her and her soft lips found his. It startled him. His eyes widened at the feel of her mouth on his. When her lips brushed against his, his body no longer seized but fell into the kiss. Moving his lips in time with hers, the pleasure exploded from him. He had never known lips like Allison’s in his entire life. At that moment, in the cold Melbourne night by the Yarra River, he was relieved to have finally discovered the most devastating pair he’d known.
She was vulnerable.
He knew that.
She was beautiful.
He knew that, too.
She was someone he hadn’t needed.
Until he discovered he did, the moment her lips touched his.
The voice in his head shouted at him to cease his responding kisses. To end what should have never started. Her small moans urged him to quicken, deepen, and to never part from her. But common sense told him that he’d never see her after tonight. He needed an excuse, a reason to end it.
Stevie.
The guilt replaced the beats in his chest. Heavy and breathtaking. He had not thought of Stevie once while he was with Allison; now, he was going to use her as an excuse, as a reason to keep Allison O’Connor away from him.
“Stop,” he mumbled.
Her lips slowed as his body had stilled. Allison pulled back to look at him. The confusion was clear in the way her eyebrows had knitted and her red, swollen lips had frowned.
“I can’t do this,” he said.
She winced. “What?”
He clenched his jaw and sucked in air through his nose. “I’m seeing someone.”
The wounded expression was one that caused the clenching, ripping, and burning of his heart. Allison’s chin dipped as she stared at her hands, her breathing sounded laboured. “You have a girlfriend,” she said in a tiny voice.
“Something like that.” Rob’s hands left her hips as he shuffled back on the bench, dividing them.
“I thought—” She paused and then faced him, the tears brimmed her eyes. “I read this wrong, didn’t I?”
The pain in her voice made the guilt triple. He clenched his fist to relieve the ache, but it only spread it, aggravated it. “It
’s complicated. I can’t see you ever again, Allison. I’m sorry if you thought … I shouldn’t have misled you like that.”
He was sure she had mumbled under her breath, “Now, I’m a whore.”
Present day
Robert Moors stood by her grave, staring at the simple black plaque that marked the plot of her final resting place. His eyes took in every gold painted letter of her name. Then Rob glanced at the pink peonies he had just laid on her grave. The same peonies from the tree she had planted before her death when he was ten. The flowers were blooming in a soft colour, just as he remembered her.
His mother, Melissa Moors, had died shortly after she introduced him to rowing. And right after his first junior race—the first and last time she stood by the finishing line with the crowd behind her. He remembered when he’d crossed the line and glanced over to see her proud smile. He hadn’t come in first but instead, fourth. He had promised himself he’d be the best rower for her. That he’d win her an Olympic gold medal someday. Rob had missed the last Olympics, refusing to compete at Nationals to be with his father. He had been the selectors’ favourite to represent Australia in London.
His younger brother, Julian, had taken off with a dismal explanation and without realising he’d broken their father’s heart at his leaving. So Rob had put the gold medal on hold. He didn’t have to, but he wanted to, and his coach, Ralph Donoghue, hadn’t been too pleased. But Rob had merely said that when he went to Nationals, he’d be at his very best and Australia’s best. He’d never tell his brother that he’d put his dream on hold because of him. Little did Rob know that Julian was hurting, escaping, and trying to mask his broken heart.
Julian had reacted differently to Rob when their mother had died. His younger brother had embraced the life she hadn’t lived, whereas Rob had struggled. When she had died, it was as if the light around them had vanished in a blink of an eye. As quickly as the next breath came and as instant as a heartbeat, the darkness had won and taken her from them. Their mother had fought until the very end, whispering her love for her boys. Her determination to fight had been his inspiration when it came to rowing. Rob and Julian had no knowledge of her cancer until the last weeks of her life. She hadn’t wanted them to suffer. But deep down Rob had known that she was suffering in silence, behind all the forced smiles she gave them.
