by Ally Blake
‘Since you guys are obviously planning on talking a lot, how about another round of drinks to wet your whistles?’ she asked, and as soon as she received one nod she was on her feet and hastening to the bar.
She leaned against the bar, her fingernails digging into the cool wood surface. The barman was nowhere to be seen but Cara didn’t mind. She was enjoying the moment’s peace.
‘Hi,’ Adam said as he ambled up next to her, and Cara all but jumped out of her skin.
‘Hi,’ she said back, her voice instantly husky.
‘I like your friends.’
That was not what she had expected. She turned to him, checking to see if he was playing her, but he was casually checking out the labels on the bottles above the bar.
‘So do I. They mean the world to me.’
‘The sisters you never had?’
Cara blinked. Then nodded. He was right. More than right. His arrow had landed dead centre. ‘How did you know that?’
He shrugged. ‘It seems to be how the world turns nowadays. The friends we make as adults become our new family. Especially for we confirmed singles.’
He shot her a wry smile and Cara could not help but smile back. But then something began to shift in his eyes, and she felt him pulling away. She had to stop herself from reaching out and grabbing him by the chin, beseeching him to stay with her.
‘It’s the great marketing key,’ he continued, his voice heading back from soft and friendly to professional and aloof. ‘Aim to hook the urban family or the hometown family. Pick your mark and play for it.’
‘And you guys picked the new urban family?’
‘We did.’
‘Because you knew about it, right? Because you and Chris and Dean are in the same boat? Finding more in common, finding more solace, and more support from them than from your actual relatives?’
He shrugged and stiffened, the light finally extinguishing in his eyes. ‘We chose that as our market share as nobody else had.’
Cara could not help but stiffen in response. Her whole body, which had relaxed at the first sign of an intimate conversation, surged back to high alert.
It was agony. The moments where he seemed to come out of his shell were enlightening. They drew her to him like nothing else she had ever experienced. He was intriguing, sensitive, and riveting. And she knew that she opened up to that side of him without even trying. Her whole body melted and relaxed.
And then when he pulled away, emotionally and mentally, she became like a cat on a hot tin roof, skittish and anxious and ready to flee.
Probably best that way. As Gracie had so blatantly pointed out earlier, this guy was a playboy. He had even labelled himself a confirmed bachelor. He was a serial monogamist at best.
But then again, maybe that was even better. She was full to bursting with the thought of curving one hand through the hair at his nape, of running the other down his broad chest, and of kissing him. She had been sure he had been about to try on the day of the Melbourne Cup, until Jeff had foiled the plan. The mere thought of it raised her body temperature several degrees.
So maybe she should just clear the air, dispel all of that suffocating sexual tension that had settled about the two of them like a cloud heavy with rain. If she threw herself at him, it would get him out of her system. And she knew without a doubt that he would gladly let her go as soon as it was over.
Cara shot a glance his way and wished she hadn’t.
He was leaning with one arm propped on the bar, and one foot propped against the bottom rung of a barstool. In his soft navy sweater and tailored tan trousers, he had such casual elegance, such pulsating charisma that even he couldn’t keep it in check no matter how hard he tried. And just to top it all off, he was so damn handsome it ached.
And she knew that she could have him without a moment’s hesitation. She felt her lungs close up and it took all of her effort to continue to breathe. If she said the word right then, he would ignore the company they had left back at the table and he would take her up to his beautiful hotel suite and he would lead her to his bed and—
‘Sorry about the wait, guys,’ the heretofore absent bartender said. ‘What can I get for you?’
Cara dragged her eyes away and shot the guy a tight smile as she stopped herself from ordering a helpful bucket of iced water.
‘Six sparkling apple juices, please.’
‘Right! You’re the cocktail gang,’ the bartender said with a grin. ‘Six of the most fabulous-looking sparkling apple juices you have ever seen, coming right up.’
Cara stayed facing the bar, firing up the mantra she had all but forgotten. Be good. Keep job. Keep home. Anyone and anything not wholly linked to those ideals has to be disregarded unconditionally.
Adam watched Cara as she watched the bartender. She was wound up tight as a spring. Her high-necked shirt, her tight skirt, her achingly flimsy shoes all supporting the fact that she was wrapping herself up tight inside.
He knew instinctively that beneath Cara’s straight-backed outer shell lurked a volcanic heat. He had witnessed moments of it: a quick temper, a determined certainty about her talents, and a ferocious loyalty. And he could not help but wonder if that passion would extend as far as the bedroom. Who was he kidding? He hadn’t been idly wondering. For several days now he had been mulling over the idea incessantly. Every time she was in his sight, and every moment she wasn’t. This woman was taking him over.
He had to get her out of his system before the wondering became something more deeply ingrained. For a guy who risked ideas and money for a living, that was a risk he could not take.
So, decision made, and timing for once perfect, he leaned over and whispered in her ear, ‘I’m glad to see you’re wearing your red shoes again.’
He sensed her control a deep, overwhelming shiver as his whisper tickled at her bare neck. After the moment it took to recover, she glanced down at her shoes, admiring their glossy curves.
‘Yes, I am,’ she said, her eyes now determinedly fixed on the bartender’s back. ‘I do tend to buy clothing with the knowledge that it will be worn again and again. I don’t have the luxury of being able to use something once and then throw it away.’
Adam knew there was some sort of point she was trying to make but he wasn’t totally sure what it was. ‘Not many people do.’
‘You do.’
That hit him for six. She was angry with him because he had money? That was certainly one to write home about.
‘I guess I do have that luxury,’ he said carefully. ‘But that doesn’t mean that I abuse it.’
Finally she turned his way and the inner heat he had been musing over hit him with the blast of an open furnace.
‘Really?’ she asked, one hand resting on her slim hip. ‘You admit you have no trouble throwing people away once you are done with them. So why would you feel any differently about possessions? Some people work their whole lives to make a home for themselves only to have it all slip through their fingers. Most of us can’t take it all for granted, you know!’
Her sudden forcefulness shocked him. He reached out and took her by the elbow.
‘Hey, come on. What are you going on about?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Then where is this coming from? What has made you suddenly so interested in what I do with my things and with the women I date?’
She opened her mouth, ready to breathe fire, but nothing came out. Her green eyes were wide and puzzled. She wasn’t angry. She was something else entirely.
He was shocked anew. There was more than plain old heat lurking beneath the surface. She was churning up inside. About him. And not just about his relationships, or his bank balance, but about him.
She swallowed hard. Then licked her lips. And he wanted nothing more than to drag her into his arms and kiss away every wild thought that had her so mixed up. He tightened his grip on her arm and she didn’t pull away.
‘Here you go,’ the bartender interrupted cheerfully. ‘Six sparkling
apple juices.’
The green eyes blinked and shifted away. And the anxiety that seemed ready to swallow her whole seeped slowly away. Adam let go. The moment had passed. In silence they grabbed three drinks each and headed back to the table that was noisy with chatter. But as each of their four companions took a glass the table eased into sudden silence.
Adam dragged his eyes away from Cara to find the others were watching them carefully. They were all smiling, cheekily, and he knew he and Cara weren’t fooling anyone. The gang were as aware of the tension between them as he was. But he was pretty sure Cara had not given into the fact yet. She sat down, smoothing out her skirt, fixing her hair, looking anywhere but at him.
‘How about a toast?’ Gracie said, holding her glass aloft. The others followed suit.
Adam searched desperately for a way to seize Cara’s attention. And he found it. He lifted his glass and, harking back to their first lunch together, he said, ‘To Cary Grant.’
If only Mr Grant’s famous charm could lend him a hand that night, he would toast him for eternity. It worked. Cara’s eyes flickered his way and held. And he read all he needed to know in her tortured gaze.
Gracie broke the searing silence. ‘OK…I was thinking more along the lines of: to finding love. But whatever rings your bell. So how about: to Cary Grant and finding love?’
Chris grinned and clinked her glass. ‘Hear, hear.’
Kelly held one hand to her tummy, her face glowing with a secret smile as she took a sip.
Dean blushed manically as he watched pretty Gracie from over his glass.
And after she had taken a decidedly small sip of her drink, Cara’s hands slid to her table, where the pressure she exerted made her knuckles turn white.
Several torturous hours later, Cara listened with half an ear to Gracie and Kelly babbling like a couple of schoolgirls at a slumber party as they trudged back up to her room.
‘That was fun,’ Gracie said.
‘What a nice bunch of guys,’ Kelly said. ‘That Chris is a sweetheart.’
‘Isn’t he?’ Gracie agreed.
‘And Dean had a little thing for you, I think.’
Gracie fluffed a hand in front of her face and became comically coy. ‘Oh, he did not.’
‘Please,’ Kelly insisted. ‘He laughed at every joke you made. You’re simply not that funny.’
Gracie shrugged. ‘Good point.’
‘But that Adam is a hard one to figure out,’ Kelly said.
Cara flinched, then bit her lip shut tight. There was no response she wished to make to that statement anyway. He twisted her in knots. So what? Nothing was going to come of it. Cara unlocked the door with one swipe of her card and the others followed her inside.
‘No, he is not!’ Gracie scoffed, flopping down onto Cara’s bed. ‘He’s goo-goo over our classy young friend here.’
‘Oh, that much is obvious,’ Kelly said, flopping right down beside Gracie. ‘The two of them are lit up like flood-lights. What I want to know is, why doesn’t he darned well do something about it? Because we sure know how stubborn this one is.’
‘Hang on a sec,’ Gracie said, ‘I somehow remember mention of someone she had met before coming in here. The ominous stare, the powerful grace, the serious good looks worthy of a menswear catalogue. That’s Adam she was gushing about.’
Cara kept her mouth shut as she slipped out of the shoes and shuffled them into the closet, her unencumbered toes appreciatively scrunching the soft carpet.
‘That’s it,’ Gracie said. ‘Both as stubborn as each other, thus doomed from the start. Sitting back in their separate corners, trying so hard to work each other out, when if they were up close and personal the process would be a heck of a lot easier, quicker, and much more fun!’
Cara stood at the end of the bed with her hands on her hips. ‘Hello? You two do remember that I am in the room, do you not?’
‘Bah!’ Gracie said. ‘What difference does that make? It’s not as though you are going to hear a word we’re saying. It’s not as though you’re going to listen to your brilliant friends. You’re going to tuck it all away somewhere safe and quiet and go about the business of buying your big home, keeping yourself to yourself and not turning into your parents.’
‘What have they got to do with it?’
‘Please!’
‘Do you ever wonder why you only date puppy dogs?’ Kelly asked, sitting up.
‘And lap-dogs at that?’ Gracie chimed in. ‘Men who do as you say?’
‘Because,’ Kelly explained, ‘you are so darned scared of becoming embroiled in fights the likes of which your parents lived for, you would rather split up than argue.’
Cara could barely hold her ground as the barrage hit her.
Kelly’s expression softened but she wasn’t done yet. ‘Cara, I don’t think that big hunk of man out there would be the type to follow you around saying “yes, dear, no, dear, three bags full, dear”. By the look on his face all night it looked like he was more than ready to give you some very specific instructions and if you aren’t prepared to follow them, look out!’
Cara rolled her shoulders, easing out the rising tension. And then she stopped halfway. She was doing exactly what the girls were saying she always did. Preparing herself to moderate, negotiate, anything to bring about peace. Anything to stop the fight.
‘OK. What if I agree that you’re right?’
Kelly opened her mouth to say, I told you so, but Cara held up a hand to stop her.
‘I am the queen negotiator. Always the diplomat. Fine. So be it. But this has nothing to do with my relationship with Adam.’
‘Your relationship?’
Cara threw out her arms in exasperation. ‘My friendship, my acquaintance, whatever you want to call it! We’ve been thrown together a good deal during the filming of the show, but that’s all. Circumstances have pushed us together, nothing else. We might have developed an…attraction of sorts, but that’s it. Certainly nothing to hang your hopes on.’
Kelly and Gracie sat on the bed staring at Cara, wearing matching grins on their faces.
Gracie broke the silence. ‘I doth thinkest she doth protesteth too much.’
Cara grabbed a couple of cushions off her small couch and dived on the bed, doing her best to smother the cheeky grins from both friends’ faces.
‘So what’s with you and Miss Cat’s Eyes?’ Dean asked as Adam and Chris walked him to his car.
Adam shot Chris a look but he held up his hands in surrender. ‘Don’t look at me. I’ve not said a word.’
‘So there is something going on?’ Dean asked.
‘No. There most definitely is not.’
‘Please!’ Dean shot back. ‘I’ve never seen you so withdrawn. I almost felt the need to poke you once or twice to see if you were still with us, while she fidgeted like she had fleas.’
‘I’m amazed you could see anything past the impertinent brunette at your side.’
Dean’s ears grew red instantly.
‘Hey, don’t change the subject,’ Chris insisted. ‘The whole problem is that nothing has been happening but he would like nothing more than for there to be lots happening. He’s been impossible since the day he met her.’
‘Which also happens to be the same day you told me about this show of yours,’ Adam reminded him.
They reached Dean’s car and Chris leapt on Adam, putting him in a head lock. ‘Come on, Deano,’ Chris said. ‘Between the two of us we might be able to lock him in the trunk of the car and you can keep him away from me for the duration.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Adam insisted, twisting easily away from his slighter friend.
‘And why not? What are you achieving by being here? The show is almost finished, so you can’t stop it now. Especially now you’ve seen the projections of the exposure it will give us. I win. I was right. The ideas man got it right. What a shock. So why stay?’
‘Moral support.’
‘Pfft. What? You’ll miss my mo
ral support of you?’
‘Fine. Then let’s call it unfinished business.’
‘Between you and Cara, right?’
His friends watched him with bright eyes. They were smart guys and he could deny it all night long, but they wouldn’t believe it for a second.
So he afforded them one short nod.
‘That’s more like it!’ Dean said, giving Chris a sly low five. ‘Wow, you guys are making me antsy. I feel like I’m missing out on something big.’ Dean hopped into the driver’s seat of his sporty number. ‘I’ll see you guys next week, right?’
‘Three more days and this will all be over,’ Chris said, his voice suddenly heavy with exhaustion.
‘And has it been worth it?’ Dean asked.
Adam watched from the sidelines as his friend’s face lit up.
‘More than I could have ever hoped.’
Adam knew without a doubt his friend was in love. Though the main reason why Adam had kept so close to Chris this whole time had been to make sure that he would be safe from the clutches of any of these women, Chris had fallen and he had fallen hard.
Adam was too late. He had failed. So why didn’t he feel as torn up about the fact as he should?
Cara walked the girls downstairs and saw them off in the lobby. They waved frantically all the way through the revolving doors and Cara watched as their sprightly forms shimmied into a wavering mirage and disappeared.
Then through the doors came Adam, head down, hands in pockets, walking slowly, his attention a million miles away. He hadn’t noticed her, and if she headed for the stairs they would not cross paths. But her slipper-clad feet were rooted to the spot.
Kelly was right; he lit her up. He made her think, he made her reconsider her opinions, and he made her want to fight back. And rather than having the battle eat away at her until she didn’t know any other way to communicate, she felt all the more alive for it.
He was simply in an altogether different league from any guy she had ever known. Even from the producers who earned enough dough to wear comparable clothes. But he wore them better, he wore them as if he were born into them. Where others stood, he lounged. They spoke, he drawled. He was just the most attractive, disturbing man Cara had ever known.
