Cruise Control

by Sarah Mayberry

  “It’s bull, that’s what it is. You don’t kiss someone like that if you’re not going to follow through,” Danny complained sourly.

  “Maybe he just got carried away?” she suggested.

  “Maybe he’s just a little cock-tease,” Danny said. “Friends! Can you believe it? I don’t need more friends!”

  “You don’t exactly need more lovers, either, Danny,” Anna observed.

  Danny swore, then swiftly apologized. “Sorry. I don’t know, this guy’s just got me all worked up, and I don’t know why. I mean, what’s wrong with a bit of harmless casual sex? Especially when the chemistry is right?”

  “I guess Ben just doesn’t see it the way you do. Some people need emotional involvement with their sex,” she said. And some people find emotional involvement with their sex, despite their best intentions, she added mentally.

  “Then he shouldn’t have kissed me,” her brother said sulkily.

  Anna wasn’t quite sure what Danny wanted her to say. Ben had pretty much taken the decision out of his hands, after all. Unless…

  “Ben seems like a nice guy,” she suggested warily. “Smart, cute. Hot.”

  “Thanks. I hadn’t noticed any of the above,” Danny said snippily.

  “Well, maybe you should go out with him a few times, see how things go,” she suggested.

  “What? Try and wear him down, you mean?” Danny asked, his expression thoughtful as he toyed with the idea.

  “No, Danny! I meant maybe you could actually consider seeing someone for more than one or two bouts of casual sex. Having a relationship, dare I say the dreaded R word,” she said, exasperated.

  Danny laughed outright. “I don’t think so, Anna Banana. In case you haven’t noticed, I am not a relationship kind of guy.”

  “Still, if you’ve never tried it…”

  “Anna, trust me—I know this about myself. I like living alone. I like my apartment the way it is. I like suiting myself. My life is great. I get all the sex I want when I want it—what would I need a boyfriend for?”

  There was a kind of willful ignorance to her brother’s declaration, and she wondered if she should call him on it. Was it possible that he truly didn’t crave emotional intimacy with someone he loved? That he got what he needed from a combination of his close-knit friends and his flings?

  It all felt painfully close to her own truths, and she had no answers to offer him.

  “Maybe he’s just the one that got away, then,” she offered philosophically.

  Danny grunted frustratedly. “People who can kiss like that should not be allowed out without a written warning,” he said.

  “You’ll get over it. You’ve still got your little black book,” she reminded him.

  “Mmm,” Danny said, and she got the distinct sense he was reluctant to replace Ben with one of his regular lovers.

  He stayed for another hour, and she let out a sigh of relief as she closed the door on him. She loved him dearly, but tonight she needed to be on her own. Still, she found herself musing on Danny’s problem as she climbed into bed. Was it possible that he’d never really had any kind of relationship? He was twenty-eight, after all. Surely there must have been some guy along the way, someone he’d wanted a stronger, more permanent connection with?

  Not knowing these things was a hangover from their more distanced, arm’s-length relationship prior to her diagnosis. She wondered how many other things she didn’t know about him. Or her father and other friends, for that matter. Keeping herself all bound up nice and tight had kept her at a distance from her friends and family, too, she now saw. Something else to add to her list of things to change in her life.

  Thinking about Danny and her family only kept her from thinking about herself and Marc for a few minutes. Then she registered the faint scent of his aftershave on her sheets, and she remembered all the times they’d made love on the bed, and on the rug in the living room. And that time on the kitchen counter…. It’s over, she told herself sternly. And not before time, if the distinctly mopey tone of her thoughts were anything to go by.

  Determined, she bounded out of bed and dragged off the sheets. Stuffing them into her laundry hamper, she pulled crisp, clean sheets from her linen cupboard and made the bed in short order. The fresh linen felt cool against her skin—and didn’t smell of Marc, more importantly.

  Despite her best efforts, he was still the last thing she thought about before she fell asleep, however. Disturbingly, it was the haunted look in his eyes that stayed with her as she drifted off. It was just a fling, she told herself resolutely. And it’s over.

  THE NEXT FEW DAYS seemed to crawl by. Anna had tried to go cold turkey on her desire for him before, but this was different. This time it wasn’t just the sex she thought about. Although she thought about that a lot, too. So much so that she was beginning to wonder if maybe she had a problem.

  A lot of the time, however, she just thought about things that Marc had said. Or his laugh. The glint he got in his eye when he was about to tease her. Or the smell of his aftershave and the way his hair curled over his shirt collar.

  She wanted to call him. But he hadn’t called her. It was over. They both knew it. Their fling had been flung, had run its course. It had gotten messy, suddenly and quickly. It was time to cut her losses and move on.

  If only someone would put out a manual on how to do that, she’d be just fine.

  After two tortured days, she dusted off her holiday brochures in desperation. She needed something to distract her, something to look forward to. Stabbing a finger blindly at the brochures, she went online and booked herself a week in tropical Bali, departing in just two days’ time. She chose a deluxe ocean view room at the Sofitel Seminyak, and she promised herself a shopping expedition for new bathing suits and other resort wear.

  All of which chewed up about an hour. Leaving her thoughts free to roam back to the topic du jour, Marc Lewis.

  If anything, her obsessive thoughts only proved how right her decision was, she told herself. Despite Danny’s rules, she’d let her guard slip and had started to get involved with Marc. Every time she saw a dark green Jag in traffic and her stomach lurched, every time she saw a tall, dark-haired man on the city streets and her pulse picked up, she reminded herself that she’d broken her own rules and gotten involved, and so it had had to end. She’d made the right decision. The smart decision. Absolutely.

  Which was why it was so ridiculously unfair that she should find herself unable to breathe when she arrived home from work on Thursday night to find Marc’s Jaguar parked out front of her apartment. She seriously considered driving on, but he’d seen her and she didn’t want him to think she had any reason to avoid him.

  And, deep down inside, maybe she didn’t want to avoid him. What did that mean?

  Her heart was pounding in her ears as she got out of the car. Not even glancing his way, she pulled off her cap and threw it onto the passenger seat, then ran her hand through her hair. Not that she cared if it looked wonky. It was just habit, that was all. She was not for even a second worried about whether her lipstick had worn off, or if any of her perfume had survived the day.

  She could see him getting out of his car in her peripheral vision. She’d forgotten how tall he was. How dangerously attractive. How much she craved his touch.

  Wrapping her fingers around her house keys, Anna dug her nails into the palm of her hand. Anything to keep her focused and strong. It was over. It had become too dangerous, and it was over.

  She forced a neutral expression onto her face as she approached him—inevitable, because he was standing by the entrance to the apartment block.

  Her legs slowed of their own accord when she was just a few feet away, even though she knew she should just breeze right past him. That would be the sensible thing to do, right? The noninvolved thing.

  They stared at each other for a loaded moment. Then he spoke. “I’m sorry. I was a shit. It won’t happen again,” he said, voice low and sincere.

  H
is eyes were dark and intense as they held hers. Something inside her shifted, melted. It shouldn’t be this easy. She needed to hold true to her decision. Because…because…He stepped forward, and she just stood there, unmoving, as his aftershave swamped her.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said, pressing his lips to hers in a gentle, searching kiss. He peppered kisses across her cheekbone, then nuzzled her ear. Someone made a faint, strangled noise, and she realized it was her, and that she was turning her head to give him access to her neck. Infinitely gentle and tender, he nipped and kissed his way down to her collarbone.

  Just as her insides were turning to liquid, he stepped away.

  “Go and get changed. I’m taking you out for dinner,” he said.

  She stared at him stupidly, her brain fogged with lust. “You don’t want to come up?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” he said. The smile he flashed her was faintly tortured, and she saw he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But he wanted to prove something to her, too.

  She found herself smiling. “Give me five minutes,” she promised.

  She didn’t allow herself to think about what it was she was doing as she raced through the shower and dragged on a dress. There was no reason why they couldn’t resume things where they’d left off, was there? As long as he understood that she demanded his respect. Right? And as long as she remembered the rules. If she was very careful, if she guarded against letting things get beyond what they had already, she could have this. Couldn’t she?

  He took her to Café Sydney, high in the old Customs Building above Circular Quay. They had an intimate table on the balcony, and she felt cosseted and seduced by the candlelight and the dark wood and the excellent service.

  “I want to explain,” Marc said as the waiter removed the dishes after their main course.

  She sat up a little straighter, holding up a hand to stay his words.

  “You don’t have to say anything. I don’t need details. That was the deal, wasn’t it? I just need to know it won’t happen again,” she said.

  “I want to tell you. You deserve an explanation,” Marc said simply.

  His dark eyes were warm as he scanned her face, and she felt the rush of desire between her legs as his gaze dropped to her breasts hungrily. She would listen, because she needed him. But it didn’t mean anything.

  “I’d had a meeting that afternoon with Tara, my ex-wife. She…had an affair. I thought I was over the anger. But I guess I wasn’t,” he said slowly.

  “I understand. I should have gone home when I sensed something was up. But…I didn’t,” she said, unable to admit that she’d been unable to forgo her nightly fix.

  “I found the things you brought,” Marc said.

  Anna felt herself flush. “Just some things for the cupboard. Since you always seem to be the one who cooks.”

  “Because I’m the one who can,” he teased, eyes flashing.

  They were silent for a moment, then he reached for her hand. His thumb smoothed circles around her palm, and she shivered at the shafts of desire that went rocketing through her body. She’d missed him so much. Her body craved him.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Anna,” he said.

  It was too much. She didn’t understand this new game they were playing. Sex was one thing. Fish and chips on her rug another. But she didn’t need him taking her out to fancy restaurants. And she definitely didn’t need him staring into her eyes like this. This was about sex. It had always been about sex.

  “Let’s go home,” she whispered, desperate to return to the rhythm she knew.

  His eyes smoked over, and he nodded once. “Yes.”

  His car shot through the streets, and she admired the burled walnut dash and soft leather seats.

  “Not quite a Mercedes, but nice,” she judged cheekily, keeping things light, doing everything she could to shift things back to what they’d once had.

  He shot her a slow smile, knowing she was goading him. At her apartment, she led him up the stairs and straight into the bedroom. The feel of his body against hers was the sweetest torture in the world. She’d missed his touch so much. She was almost sobbing by the time she’d dragged his shirt from his shoulders. They fell onto the bed and came together frantically, bodies straining for closeness, their faces tight. Afterward, she felt a hazy contentment. She told herself it was the absence of need.

  He traced circles across her back, his breath warm on her nape. Occasionally he pressed kisses there, and she smiled to herself. Soon they would make love again.

  Her eyes drifted closed, then sprang open again as she remembered something.

  Her body must have stiffened, because he put a hand on her hip.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Anna let out a little laugh, then shook her head. “Nothing. I just remembered—I’m going to Bali the day after tomorrow.”

  She could feel him tense, knew what he was thinking. They’d just gone a week without each other. It had been unbearable. But there was nothing they could do about it. Unless…

  She turned to him, impulsive, letting her desire lead her. “You could come with me,” she said.

  He stared down at her for a beat, and she suddenly felt very, very foolish. She’d just stepped over the line again, hadn’t she?

  Then he smiled. “Give me the details. I’ll get my assistant on it tomorrow,” he said.

  She found herself smiling back at him. He was coming to Bali with her. They could make love whenever they felt like it. It would be the holiday of a lifetime.

  She sighed as he ducked his head and took her nipple into his mouth. Desire ripped through her, and her hips rocked instinctively.

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  A week in Bali with Marc. Right at this minute, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more.

  10

  A WEEK IN BALI with Marc. Had she been insane last night? Anna woke to the perfectly formed realization that she had just made a very big mistake. The pillow next to her still bore the indentation of Marc’s head where he had lain beside her talking and laughing last night. The sheets still smelled of his aftershave. And she had just agreed to spend a whole week in his company.

  They were supposed to be having a fling. It was about sex. Wasn’t it? So why had she felt so relieved when she saw him on her doorstep last night? Why had she turned to goo when he’d taken her out for dinner and said sorry? And why had she lost her head and invited him on vacation with her? She could imagine Danny’s face when she told him—she’d broken two of the three golden rules of having a fling without even blinking.

  What was she doing? She asked herself the question over and over. Was she trying to have a relationship-by-stealth with Marc? She shook her head at the very idea. She didn’t want to be tied down. But she didn’t want to be without him, either. She told herself it was simply because he’d awakened her, found some new, exciting, sexy woman inside the old Anna and set her free. She was addicted to his lovemaking, that was all.

  Somehow, it all rang a little false, however, and she found herself creating interesting and believable excuses for why she’d changed her mind about the invitation. But even though she reached for the phone to call Marc more than once, something stopped her every time. She was so confused, so messed up, that she gave up valuable swimsuit-shopping time to stop by Danny’s office and seek counsel.

  A chirpy young assistant showed her to her brother’s office, and she saw immediately that he was with someone. Ben, to be specific. They were seated at the table, mock-ups for a print advertising campaign laid out in front of them. Their heads were bent toward each other, Danny’s brown hair offset nicely by Ben’s golden blond. Their expressions were very intent, very professional, but Anna couldn’t help noticing the way Ben reached out to touch her brother’s arm to draw his attention to something. And the way her brother’s thigh was pressed up alongside Ben’s, even though there was plenty of room for both of them to have their own space.

  It was abundantly clear t
o her that Ben was really into her brother. The awards ceremony had been enough to deduce that. Added to Danny’s report of what Ben had said to him afterward, Anna didn’t think she was too far off base in guessing that Ben might even have a crush on her brother. And her brother wasn’t immune to him, either, if she was any judge. Hence his agitation at being rejected. Hence the way he was sitting right now. Studying them unnoticed for a few seconds, she got the distinct impression there was a battle going on: on one side, her brother, bent on seduction; on the other, Ben, with a far more committed, long-term game plan in mind.

  Interesting.

  As loath as she was to break up her brother’s love-in, she needed help, so she tapped lightly on his open door. Both men’s heads shot up, and she was amused to see they shared the same look of chagrin at being interrupted.

  “Sorry,” she said. She smiled a welcome at Ben. “Hey.”

  “Hey, Anna. Good to see you,” he said.

  She smiled again and turned her attention to Danny. “I need five minutes.”

  He must have read the desperation in her eyes. “Vixen crisis?”

  “Vixen disaster,” she clarified.

  Danny’s eyebrows shot up and he turned to Ben. “Can we do this later? After two?”

  “Sure, not a problem. See you around, Anna,” Ben said as he exited.

  Anna tried not to be amused by the way her brother followed Ben hungrily with his eyes.

  “Careful, you’re drooling,” she said as he closed his office door to give them some privacy.

  Danny groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands. “I swear, he’s going to push me into an early grave. We played racquetball last night, and he wore these teeny-tiny little shorts. And he has these legs…I can’t even talk about it,” Danny said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “You guys played racquetball?” Anna asked, surprised.

  “Sure. Why not? Got to do something to stay in shape.” Danny shrugged, supercasual.

  “I thought you didn’t need any more friends?”