by Lisa Edward
Cole’s arm wrapped around my waist just as my legs crumbled, saving me from dropping to the ground. As his fingers dug into my flesh, his movements became jerky. With one final grunt, he dropped his head down to my shoulder, the heaving of his chest vibrating against my back. His head rolled against my shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.
“You’re amazing,” he whispered lovingly. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Tara.”
Straightening up, I twisted around until I could kiss his sweaty brow. “Right back at ya.”
We disentangled and tidied ourselves up.
“Why haven’t we ever done that before?” I wondered out loud, my body still tingling.
“You never asked,” Cole replied with a wink.
I chuckled. “So do I have to nominate every position?”
“The thing is,” he said, pulling on a clean shirt, “I don’t associate you with going from behind.”
Cocking an eyebrow quizzically, I urged him to continue.
“I like to see your face, to kiss you when I’m inside you.” He leaned in towards me with a sexy grin. “Watch you come.” He shrugged. “It was always for ugly girls, or really drunk girls.” He grimaced. “You know, just in case they threw up.”
Stopping what I was doing, I gaped at him in mock disbelief. “I didn’t think you were that bad at it that a girl would be sick.”
He slapped me hard on the butt, making me yelp. “But I’m happy to do you any way you like. Any time, any place.”
With one last look in the mirror to ensure everything was back in place, we headed out to the restaurant.
“Hey, what happened to you two?” Marcus asked, grinning knowingly at us.
“I was just debriefing the musical director,” I said, tongue in cheek. “Letting him know what’s expected of him tomorrow night.”
The elevator dinged just as Cole, Kelli, Jay and I were sitting down with our morning coffee. We’d arranged for Marcus and Nicole to pick up all the morning newspapers, collecting Jason on the way. I wasn’t really expecting to be mentioned in the entertainment section of any of them, but we were hoping that maybe someone had given us one line somewhere.
“Man, you wouldn’t believe the crowd outside your apartment block,” Nicole said as she came in and went straight to the window and looked down. “There must be twenty or more reporters and cameramen hanging around.”
Frowning, I looked at Cole. His expression matched mine. We all stood along the window, gaping at the paparazzi below.
“I wonder what’s going on,” Kelli said. “Maybe someone was murdered in one of the apartments last night.”
I grimaced at her. “God, I hope not. That would be awful.” I went over to the pile of newspapers that Marcus had dumped on the coffee table. “Maybe there’s something about it in one of these.”
Nicole opened the first paper as Cole poured them all coffee. “I don’t care about that right now, I want to see if we’re in the paper.”
We all grabbed a newspaper each, and started flicking through.
“Eek!” Nicole squealed. In a write-up that filled half a page were photos and an article about our show.
“What does it say?” I asked nervously. They had given us a lot of space, but if it was a bad review, it would be crushing.
Nicole’s eyes scanned the article as Marcus leaned in, reading over her shoulder.
“They say,” she said, beaming at me, “brilliant music, and gorgeous costumes.” She smiled over at Jason whose chest swelled. “And …”She did a little happy dance in her seat. “The most talented and beautiful dancers to rival those at the Moulin Rouge.”
Newspaper after newspaper had reviewed our show, and in some cases the food at the restaurant as well.
“How did they all know about our little show?” I asked, stunned.
“I may have had something to do with that,” Cole confessed. “I kind of called a few papers and told them you were Australia’s answer to Paris’s burlesque scene.”
Excitedly, we read every article to each other until Kelli stumbled upon one that wiped the smile from her face.
“What is it, Kell? We can deal with one bad review.” I took the paper from her hands and started reading out loud.
“Melbourne’s burlesque show rocks the night with stunning dancers and raunchy music.”
This was good, why was Kelli frowning? I kept reading.
“The brains and money behind this sensation is Melbourne millionaire heiress, Tara O’Connell. By day, society royalty; by night, a burlesque dancer. So who is the real Tara O’Connell?”
I closed the paper, dropping it on the coffee table. “You have got to be kidding me. Who writes this crap? Society royalty. What a load of rubbish!”
Cole grabbed the paper, flicking through until he found the page. His eyes scanned the article, his jaw clenching the more he read.
“It gets worse,” he said, slamming the paper down before jumping up to pace the floor. “Somehow they know about Riley and you paying his ransom.” He ran his hand through his hair. “How the fuck would they know that?”
“What?” I grabbed the paper, reading the entire article. They did indeed know about Riley, and all the details, somehow painting me to be some cloaked figure that scurried away in the night to pay millions of dollars for her jilted lover. What had been an act of love on my part, to save Riley from what would have certainly been a drawn-out and painful death, had been sensationalised and turned into a scandal.
“Oh my God, you don’t think the reporters are all downstairs because of this, do you?” I looked around in disbelief.
Cole came and sat down beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and squeezing me tight. “I don’t think there’s anyone else in the building who’s done anything newsworthy, but I don’t get how they could possibly know.”
“Someone must have talked to them,” Kelli said, matter-of-factly.
The question was, who? There were very few people who knew about my money and Riley, and most of those people were in this room. I trusted them all. I couldn’t believe anyone of them would talk to the press. Looking up at Cole, I could see he was trying to solve the riddle as well, as his brow furrowed deep in thought.
“It will blow over. By next week no one will remember you have millions.”
“How would you feel if everyone knew your background?” I asked, one eyebrow cocked questioningly.
He smirked at me. “I’d change my name, maybe leave town.”
We drove to Songbirds to set up bar, even though it was only a ten-minute walk, because the press were still milling around outside, looking for a story. As we climbed out of the car, a group of at least forty people with placards approached and started chanting at us, waving the signs in our faces. We scurried inside and quickly locked the door, totally taken aback by their signs and abuse. They implied I was a warmonger because I’d lined the terrorist’s coffers by paying them the ransom money.
“What the hell are we going to do?” I asked. “This is going to be really bad for business, Marcus.” I indicated to the securely locked door. “If the press don’t make a scene, the protesters will. It will drive people away.”
Marcus gave me a hug. “We’ll ride it out, Tars. They’ll find something else to focus on soon enough, and we can go back to our regular lives.”
I knew it would blow over, but I didn’t like that it was affecting all my friends. “Maybe I should just go into hiding for a while.”
Jay had been extremely quiet since we’d arrived—maybe a little too quiet. Finally, he stepped forward. “I may have a solution.”
Cole crossed his arms over his chest, facing Jay. “Make it good, buddy.”
Jay’s eyes shifted nervously from Cole to me. “Well, Dad asked me if I could arrange a tour of entertainers to go overseas. Entertain the troops, you know.” He fidgeted as Cole’s stance became more threatening.
“So?” Cole asked.
“So, maybe the girls would like to tour f
or a couple of weeks. Visit a few camps, take the show on the road. I was going to ask you anyway,” he said, his gaze focusing on me. “I know the troops would really enjoy your sort of show, and now, with the disruption to business, maybe it would be good if you weren’t around.”
Cole was shaking his head before Jay had finished speaking.
“It would give things here time to cool off a bit,” Jay said, shrugging. “Just an idea.”
“It’s not happening,” Cole said with finality. “Tara’s not going back over there.”
I understood why he didn’t want me going back—at least, I thought I did—but it wasn’t his decision. This was Jay offering the girls and me an experience of a lifetime, to do something for the soldiers that were over there, missing their homes.
My eyes went to Nicole, but she wasn’t looking at me. Her eyes were narrowed on Cole as he put his foot down.
“It’s not really up to you, is it?” she challenged. “I think we should take it to a vote … between the girls.” Her eyes darted to me warily, questioning if she’d overstepped her mark.
I nodded. “That sounds fair. If the girls want to go, I’m sure we can arrange something.” The prospect of travelling and entertaining the troops sounded so exciting, like something from a movie. I really hoped the girls would be excited, and we could do something that hardly anyone had the opportunity to do.
“But not you,” Cole rebutted. He came towards me, dipping his head to meet my eyes. “I don’t want you going.”
Holding my ground, I planted my hands firmly on my hips, preparing myself for a showdown. But the showdown didn’t come. Cole prised my hands from my hips and held them in his, leaning in so his forehead rested against mine.
“I only just got you back, babe. You promised you wouldn’t leave me again.”
His huge frame wrapped around me, squeezing me into his broad chest. “You can’t go,” he whispered.
That was when I realised he wasn’t trying to tell me what to do. In his own way, he was all but begging me not to go. Whether the motivation behind his request was to keep me close to him, or keep me away from Riley, I couldn’t be sure. But one thing was certain—things were great between us at the moment, and I didn’t want to jeopardise that.
Travelling overseas would be amazing, but it was a couple of weeks from my life. Was it worth causing trouble with Cole?
“If the girls would like to go over there they can.” I looked up into his eyes. They were boring into me pleadingly. “But I don’t have to go.”
AS PREDICTED, the next few days were horrendous. The reporters were still hanging around the apartment, and a few had taken up residence at the bar, trying to catch anything newsworthy and pestering my friends for information. I had been accosted several times in the car park at Songbirds by protesters, where I had been forced to push my way through them to get inside the door.
It didn’t take long for the money-hungry low-lives to come out of the woodwork either. The number of times I was asked if I could pay for people’s drinks, people I didn’t even know, because I had stacks of cash was ridiculous. But what blindsided me was the bimbo who approached me one evening when I was setting up at Songbirds.
Recognising her straight away, with the fake blonde hair and the sheer top that almost covered her nipples, my eye was drawn down from the massive cleavage to the baby bump that stuck out in between her top and skirt.
She wasn’t even subtle as she approached me with the two-day-old newspaper folded in her hand, and dollar signs in her eyes.
“Well, aren’t you a surprise?” she blurted out. “Working here when you don’t really need to.”
I knew what she was referring to, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for her.
“What do you mean?” I asked innocently.
She waved the newspaper at me. “How many millions did you pay for an ex-boyfriend?” She giggled, and rubbed her baby bump. “How much would you pay to keep this quiet?”
My heart rate kicked up a few notches, but I tried to stay calm. “I wouldn’t pay you a cent. Why would I?” But I already knew the answer.
Smirking, she swung her belly from side to side. “Because I’m seven months’ pregnant with your boyfriend’s baby, and being an heiress and all, I wouldn’t think you would want that to get out.”
Cole and I may have only been together for a couple of months, but it had been nearly eight months since Paris, and I knew Cole hadn’t been with anyone but me since then. At least that was what he had told me, and why would he lie?
Turning my back to her, I tried to form some sort of plan while I busied myself wiping down the bar.
“I’m not paying you anything because I don’t believe that’s Cole’s baby. In fact, I’d be surprised if you even knew who the father was.”
I didn’t hear her come up behind me, but the venom in her tone was tangible. “Is that a risk you’re willing to take?” Throwing a folded piece of paper down on the counter with a phone number scrawled on it, she strode out with the promise that we’d be seeing each other real soon.
Slumping down on a bar stool, I buried my face in my hands. This was too much. I could barely deal with the constant harassment from the paparazzi and protesters, but now this pregnant Barbie doll was threatening the one thing in my life that I valued more than anything—my relationship with Cole.
I was still shaken when Marcus and Nicole came in twenty minutes later. With one look at my face, Nicole knew there was something wrong.
Explaining what had happened, it all seemed so farfetched, but at the same time, more possible than I wanted to admit. Cole was used to sleeping with different girls every week. The mere fact he had gone for months without seeing anyone while he waited for me had always seemed like a stretch. Maybe he hadn’t been completely honest with me. I just didn’t know.
“So what are you going to do?” Nicole asked while Marcus set three coffees down on the table.
“Argh!” I buried my face in my hands. “I have no idea.”
What would I do? I didn’t want to pay her off, that was like admitting that I thought it could be true. But on the other hand, was it worth the risk of dragging this out in court and the media?
“It’s simple,” Marcus stated in between sips of coffee. “Ask Cole if he slept with her seven months ago.”
“If he can even remember,” Nicole quipped.
I glared at her.
“Um, I mean, seven months is a long time, so …” She let the sentence trail off, but I knew what she meant. For most people it would be easy to recall who they had been seeing seven months, or even seven years ago. Cole was a whole different story.
Looking over at Marcus, I saw he was holding the phone to his ear. “Hey, mate, can you come down to the bar?” He paused. “Yep, Tara needs to ask you something.”
He hung up then shrugged at me. “No time like the present.”
Ten minutes later, Cole strode in. “What does my baby need?” he asked grinning. But the grin slipped when he saw the sombre looks on all our faces. “Shit, what’s happened?” he asked, pulling up a seat beside me.
Taking a deep calming breath, I turned to face him. “Okay, I need the truth.”
He nodded. “Sure, of course.”
“Since Paris, how many girls have you slept with?” I gnawed on my lip, waiting for him to think about it, to falter in some way, but he didn’t.
“Is this a trick question? One girl, and that girl is you.”
Letting out the breath I’d been holding, I slid the phone number that the bimbo had left me across the table.
“Do you remember that blonde girl with the big boobs?”
“Babe, you need to be more specific than that,” he scoffed. “Blonde and big boobs describes half the girls I know.”
I didn’t laugh at his joke. Instantly, his mood changed.
“What’s happened?”
“The girl you were with that time when I called you to come over. Do you remember her? Yes or no?�
��
“Yes. Her name’s something like Mindy, Cindy, Lindy, maybe Bindy. That was the night you called me because you had a huge spider in your apartment.” He laughed. “I remember you that night. You were so jealous.”
“She’s seven months’ pregnant.”
That stopped his laughter.
He looked at me, then at Nicole and Marcus. “Well it’s not mine!” he said indignantly. His eyes narrowed. “You think it is, or at least, it could be?” Scraping the chair back, he leapt up and started pacing. “So you don’t believe that I waited for you?”
I didn’t know what to say, so I chose to say nothing.
“Tara?” He leaned his hands on the table, his huge frame over shadowing all of us. “Do you believe me?”
My mouth opened, but closed again. Still no answer.
“It’s a simple question, Tara. Do you believe me or her?”
“I believe you, but maybe if you did a paternity test …” I squirmed in my seat, the words sounding accusatory even in my own ears. “… it would shut her up.”
The hurt look in his eyes caved my chest. I couldn’t breathe. “I’m sorry, Cole, but she’s after money, so we have to be sure.”
He stood to full height. “I am sure, Tara, but obviously you’re not.” His stare settled on each of us, before returning to me and sending an icy shiver down my spine. “Fuck the paternity test, and fuck all of you.”
Then he turned on his heels and stormed out.
Racing home, I had expected to see Cole there, brooding and pissed off as hell, but home. He wasn’t.
Shit! Where would he go? He had a gig tonight at Ice Pick. Maybe he’d gone in early for a drink before the show.
Quickly changing into the first clothes I could find, I checked my reflection. With my hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and sloppy jeans and a T-shirt on, I looked hideous.
“This won’t do,” I chastised my reflection. “You look like a homeless person.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, and for the first time since Mindy, Cindy, Lindy, or maybe Bindy had knocked the wind out of me, I allowed myself a minute to think, to really think about what was happening. Cole had always been honest with me. He’d never tried to hide the fact that he’d slept with anyone with a pulse, so why would he lie about this? We hadn’t been together back then and although he had changed his ways to prove himself to me, I felt confident that had he strayed, he would have been honest about it.
