Sighing, she got up from the driver’s seat and swung the car door open. The balmy night air caressed her bare legs and a light breeze ruffled her hair. She swung her bag over one shoulder and headed up the stone pathway to her small town house. Gardenia trees perfumed the air with their glorious, floral scent and Elise breathed deep. She needed to get Col out of her head for good. If only she could fast forward a few weeks until he was back in the States and she could go back to trying to piece her life together.
As she opened the front door a noise startled her. ‘Hello?’
‘Ellie?’ A croaky voice called out.
‘Mum? Is that you?’ Her heart sank. If her mother was here it could only mean one thing.
She found Darlene Johnson lying on the couch, her pale face lined with the pain of the past. Dark purple rings encircled her eyes, her bony arms wrapped around her slender body. She seemed to look thinner and thinner each day.
‘What are you doing here?’ She dropped her bag onto the coffee table and bent down to tend to her mother.
‘I couldn’t sleep.’
The older woman’s eyes were the exact same grey as Elise’s, her nose the exact same button shape. Elise’s father had always said she was a tiny replica of her mother, inside and out. Fierce, stubborn, bossy. Prone to pushing others around, loath to show weakness. At her best: a vivacious force. At her worst: an immovable object incapable of opening up.
Now her mother was an emotionless shell of a woman whose medication had hollowed her out and taken away her spark. ‘Do you want to stay here tonight?’
Darlene nodded. ‘I can sleep on the couch.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Elise said, grabbing her mother’s hand and helping her to stand. ‘It’ll only take a second to make up the bed. Do you want a herbal tea?’
Darlene nodded again. Elise went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. She steadied herself against the countertop, massaging her temples with her fingertips. Sometimes she wondered if she was the right person to have been left in charge of this family after their lives turned to crap. But who else would have done it?
Her mother was incapable of even the most menial tasks on her bad days, and Elise’s brother Rich had bailed two years after their father died. So it was all on her shoulders to keep her mother safe and to make sure the ballet studio survived. Easy, right? She let out a breath and rolled her shoulders, trying to relax the tight muscles.
The kettle whistled and she poured the piping-hot water into an old teapot. While the tea bag steeped she made her mother a place to sleep. The old hinges of the sofa bed groaned when she unfolded them, the mattress threadbare in places. She fished the spare pillows from her hallway linen cupboard and poured two mugs of tea.
‘Thanks, Ellie.’ Darlene accepted the cup and sat down on the bed, shifting to avoid the patch where the hinges pushed through the mattress. ‘You’re a good daughter.’
Elise shifted, unused to such open praise from her mother.
‘The bank called me about the loan the other day.’ There was a tremor in her voice, a fear that made Elise’s heart feel as if it were about to splinter.
‘Yeah, they called me too.’
‘What are we going to do? I haven’t got much left—’
‘It’s fine, Mum. I’ll take care of it,’ she soothed.
The shakes had started; her hands trembled around the cup. The hot tea swished, slopping over the edge. ‘But they said—’
‘Stop worrying.’ Elise used a firm tone, her hand steadying Darlene’s wrist so she didn’t burn herself. ‘I’ll take care of it.’
‘You’re a good daughter,’ Darlene whispered again. ‘I never meant to put us in this situation. It’s all my fault, it’s all my fau—’
‘Stop it.’ She didn’t want to hear the guilty pleas, the declaration of fault. She didn’t want to talk about the past, not even with her own mother.
‘I’ve stuffed everything up. I’ve ruined it all.’
‘Stop!’ There was a waver in her voice, a crack showing in her façade. She couldn’t let her mother see the strain, the stress. She had to keep it locked down; she had to deal.
‘I wish your father were still here. I wish we’d never gone on that raid...’
‘You need to sleep, Mum. You’re getting delirious.’
Darlene handed her barely touched tea to Elise and crawled into the sofa bed. The white sheet outlined her childlike frame. Elise set the cups down on the coffee table and put a blanket over her mother.
‘Sleep tight,’ she whispered, patting her mother on the arm. She had an instinct to hug her but she held back; hugging had never been a very big part of the Johnson household. ‘Leave everything with me.’
Deep breathing filled the room. Peace, at last.
* * *
Rows and rows and rows of seats stretched out and up in front of him. They were empty, except for one in the centre of the front row. Elise looked at him and nodded encouragingly. He paced the stage, the sound of his shoes echoing in the silence.
‘You have to get comfortable with your surroundings,’ she said, standing up from her seat and walking up the steps that led onto the stage. ‘Get used to the space, know where the hazards are. Stand behind the lectern.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes, now,’ she said, her voice sharp, businesslike.
‘Bossy boots much,’ he muttered under his breath.
He’d been woken early by a phone call from Elise. Apparently she’d had a brainwave overnight and thought that the two of them should meet where his speech was to be held. There was no mention of the memory he’d shared at dinner, no questions about the audience or the speech itself. True to her word, she didn’t want to talk about any of that. Though now it was out in the open Col felt as if someone had unlocked the gates of his past, and he’d tossed and turned with dreams of his childhood all night.
‘I heard that.’
‘You were meant to.’ He stood behind the lectern, his hands immediately clutching it as if it were a life raft and he were stranded at sea.
‘Okay, smarty-pants. Does the mike work?’
There was an on-off switch. He pushed the button and a green light appeared at the base of the microphone. He tapped it and the sound echoed through the auditorium speakers.
‘Check, check. One, two.’
‘Very creative.’
Elise stood at the edge of the stage, one hand on her hip. She wore a pair of jeans that were shredded up and down the front so that enticing flashes of creamy skin peeked through. A plain black T-shirt sat close to the skin, highlighting her slim waist and small frame. Her hair was plaited over one shoulder, making her look young though not innocent, and she wore little make-up. As usual.
‘Now, pretend I’m your audience. You’re just talking to me, no judgement, no pressure.’ She gestured with her hands, a pile of bracelets jangling as she moved.
Col unfolded the page of notes he’d printed from his makeshift office at the hotel. He smoothed the creases with his palms, trying to ignore the tremor of his hands. It was just her, Elise. It would be the first time she’d seen him exposed, raw. He could do this.
‘Whereas once health and fitness was left in the hands of professionals,’ he began, ‘the introduction of smartphones, tablets and twenty-four-seven information has meant a dramatic shift in the way people manage their lives, health included. Technology companies have seized this opportunity, smart technology companies have used concepts like gamification to...’
He tripped over his words here and there, his breath short as the nerves tightened his chest and throat. But all the while Elise urged him on, smiling and nodding at the right points and using her hands to encourage him to keep going when he stumbled.
By the time he finished he felt as though he’d ridden a roller coaster:
his stomach was fluttering; his heartbeat raced. He couldn’t even contemplate how it would feel on the day with hundreds of eyes staring back at him. But it was a step in the right direction.
He moved out from behind the lectern and Elise bounced up to him, throwing her arms around his neck. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
Time seemed to freeze in the moment her body pressed against him, his hands gluing themselves to her tiny waist. His whole world had suddenly shrunk to the space between them, the sound of his breath coming fast, the scent of soft flowers on her skin. She was it, the reason his heart continued to beat in those seconds, the reason he drew breath.
His hand traced a line up her arm, skating around her neck to cup the curve of her head. His fingers tangled in her hair, his thumb smoothing over the shell of her ear.
Her breath hitched, eyes fluttering. She lowered her hands from his neck until her palms were flat against his chest. ‘What happened to keeping this strictly business?’
‘You started it.’
She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and paused, as if deciding what to do. Her fingers fanned out, increasing the contact between them. He ached with the desire to kiss her. She shifted on the spot, brushing her pelvis against him so gently he might have imagined it. Arousal flared through him, spiralling heat down to his gut and hardening him in an instant.
‘I should stop it.’ Her voice cracked, colour spreading up her neck to bloom in her cheeks.
‘We both should.’
He ignored his own words, lowering his head slowly to hers. Her face tilted up, lips parting. Blood roared in his ears, pulsing loud and hot and fast. She would taste so sweet, so—
A bang from the other side of the auditorium startled them and they broke apart. Cool air rushed over him, the absence of her hands on his chest like a gaping chasm in his heart.
‘I didn’t mean to interrupt,’ the intruder said, sounding as though she didn’t care at all. ‘We need to set up for the next group coming through, so I’ll need to ask you to wrap it up now.’
* * *
Had she almost kissed Col? Her cheeks burned, skin scorched from his touch. Worst of all, her lady parts throbbed as if they’d had a glimpse of heaven and wouldn’t be quiet until they got what they wanted. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to squash the aching unfulfilled desire to no avail.
She fiddled with the end of her braid, needing desperately to occupy her hands now that they weren’t pressed against Col’s chest. God, she’d nearly fainted at the rock-hard muscle under her fingertips. She could only imagine how his body had morphed since she’d seen it last.
He looked utterly delectable today; he always did when he was at his most casual. Fitted jeans hugged his lean hips and curved around his perfect arse, a navy and white striped T-shirt accentuated broad shoulders and brought out the blue of his eyes. He wore his favourite sneakers, a pair of lived-in white Chucks identical to her own.
‘We should get going.’ His hand was at her arm, leading her to the exit.
The sunshine blinded her as they exited the conference building. The full-strength summer heat bore down reflecting off the building windows and washing everything out. She looked up to Col, shielding her eyes.
‘Where to now?’
She didn’t want to go home and the air conditioning still hadn’t been fixed at the studio. The first half of Col’s payment should be coming through shortly, but until then she was still keeping a low profile as far as her spending was concerned.
‘I’ve got some stuff to take care of at Dad’s place.’ He sighed, plucking the sunglasses that hung from the neckline of his T-shirt and slipping them on. ‘I need to get it done, otherwise the landlord is going to be on my case. Not that there’s anything worth salvaging in there.’
‘Need a hand?’
‘This doesn’t exactly feel like keeping it strictly business.’ Col tilted his head.
She didn’t like not being able to see his eyes; they always told her exactly how he was feeling. For a guy who’d been through what he had, he was still an open book. Anger, sadness and just about any other emotion showed itself so clearly on his face that he might as well have been a dictionary for feelings...at least where she was concerned.
She’d always liked that about him, envied it even. Elise had been raised to repress any extreme emotions. There were to be no tears, no screaming, no arguments in the Johnson household. Even hugs came at a premium. She’d never doubted that her parents loved her, but they were both hardened by their jobs in the police force and that hardness had infiltrated their home.
Falling apart in Col’s arms that night had been the closest she’d ever come to true, unadulterated emotion. To honest emotion. And look where it had landed her.
‘Besides, I thought you didn’t want to talk about the past,’ he said.
‘We don’t have to talk about it.’ She sighed, unable to articulate why she wasn’t yet ready to let him go. ‘I thought you might need a hand with packing up his things and clearing out the rubbish.’
‘I would be grateful for a hand.’ He smiled, his lips pulling back to reveal an utterly disarming grin.
She nodded, warmth blossoming in her chest...and she was sure it wasn’t from the sunshine. You’re walking on dangerous ground, Johnson. Very. Dangerous. Ground.
* * *
Col’s father’s house was just as she remembered it from the few times she’d been there growing up. He’d never liked her visiting when he still lived at home and she had always suspected he was embarrassed by the strange stale alcohol smell and chaotic mess.
The garden was non-existent; the grass was brown in patches and completely absent in others. A few flowers within the clutches of death dotted the side fence and weeds sprouted up through the cracks in the cement path to the front door. The letterbox had taken a beating at some point, and the paint had chipped off in huge flakes. One of the numbers dangled from a single screw.
‘Home sweet home,’ Col said drily as they walked up to the front door.
What must he be feeling? Being forced to come home and deal with the house he’d fled as soon as he’d been able must be tough. Elise bit down on her lip as she followed him up the steps. At least he’d been able to escape the terrors of his childhood, she supposed. With this perspective she felt some of the anger at his departure slip away. Didn’t everyone deserve the right to escape?
They walked through the front door and Elise wrinkled her nose at the smell. The stench of stale whisky hung in the air, mingling with cigarette smoke that seemed to have permeated the house’s furnishings and walls. A cardboard box overflowed with empty bottles of whisky, bourbon and beer. The room itself held little more than a couch—which had seen better days—and a coffee table strewn with newspapers, betting stubs and ash from an overflowing ashtray.
‘It looks...exactly as I remember it.’ Elise wandered around, careful not to trip on the numerous clusters of mess around the floor, a deep ache settling in her chest. This was no place for a child to have grown up.
‘Apparently my father didn’t feel the need to clean,’ Col replied, anger heavy in his voice. ‘Or adhere to basic hygiene. Old habits die hard, I guess.’
‘I guess,’ she echoed, turning to Col in time to see the mask of his composure slip for a second.
White-hot rage flashed through his features as he zeroed in on a photo frame on the mantel. He strode across the room and picked it up. The photo had yellowed with time, the colours not as vibrant as they once had been. But it was undoubtedly Col and his father. A gap-toothed smile stared back, but the faint outline of a bruise marred the young boy’s upper arm.
‘He made me smile for this photo.’ Col’s voice shook, his shoulders bunched around his neck, jaw clenched. ‘He shook me until I agreed to smile. And now he has this photo up like it’s a goddamn happy memo
ry.’
Her chest compressed. She wanted to reach and touch him; she wanted to ease his pain. But she didn’t know what to do. She was so emotionally inept herself that she had no idea how to deal with this extreme emotion. Shame washed over her but she knew it wouldn’t even show a glimmer on her face.
‘Col—’
‘I thought I was over this. I thought I was over him.’ The last word came out as a growl as he hurled the photo against a wall.
The glass exploded in a shower of tinkling particles. Elise watched them fall to the floor as if in slow motion, the sound of her heart magnified in her ears.
‘I’m sorry, Elise. You shouldn’t have had to see that.’ He turned his pain, palpable in the air around him, inwards. His chest rose and fell too quickly as he clutched at self-control.
‘It’s okay.’ She was frozen, rooted to the spot.
‘I shouldn’t have brought you here. I know you don’t want to talk about the past—’
She couldn’t comfort him with words, but she needed to ease his pain. So she did the only thing that she could do, the only thing that felt natural.
Her hands found Col’s neck and she dragged him down to her, her open mouth ready for his. Their tongues met with force, lips pressing hard. This wasn’t a comforting kiss. Hell, it wasn’t even a distracting kiss. It was a full-on, all-barriers-down, forget-everything-else kiss.
One strong arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her so she could wind her legs around his waist. He moved and her back hit the wall, knocking the wind out of her. Col’s teeth came down on her lip, his hips grinding into her open legs.
‘My God, Elise,’ he groaned against her hair as her lips found the lobe of his ear.
He had her pinned and she couldn’t have found anything sexier at that point. The hard length of him had all her senses firing at high speed, his hands cupping her arse to hold her in place.
She writhed against him, eliciting a guttural moan from the back of his throat. Up close his scent invaded her, making her dizzy with lust and memories. His short hair was silky against her palms; she gripped it and tugged his head down. His tongue flicked against hers, his faint minty taste drawing her in to keep the kiss going on and on.
Breaking the Bro Code Page 6
