by Anne Oliver
‘Ah, yes, that magazine,’ she drawled, infusing her tone with a large dollop of sarcasm, and was rewarded with a flare of colour on Dane’s cheekbones.
And what do you know? Dane Huntington, master of cool, actually looked hot. The hot-and-bothered kind of hot. Amused, she watched his head tilt as he stretched his neck, as if easing the tension there. The smile that touched her lips was more of a smirk.
‘The side benefits: dates with ten different babes.’ Justin grinned, with the devil’s glint in his eyes.
Mariel’s stomach clenched around the image Justin provoked, but she held on to that smirk for all she was worth.
‘Uh-oh, my wife’s giving me the eye,’ Justin said. ‘I’ll leave you two to catch up. Great seeing you again, Mariel.’
‘You, too.’ Mariel smiled at an attractive brunette watching them as Justin threaded his way in her direction, then turned back to Dane. ‘So…Babe’s Bachelor of the Year, huh? How does it work again?’
‘Like Jus told you,’ he clipped. ‘A bit of fun. And it’s for a good cause. Charity fund-raiser. I need a refill—how about you?’ Jutting his chin, he motioned her away from several interested onlookers towards a punchbowl in the middle of a table.
He ladled orange liquid into two crystal cups, offered her one. ‘Thank you,’ she said, careful to avoid contact with his fingers.
‘You mean these babes—’ Mariel drew the word out with sarcastic relish ‘—wherever they come from, they rate the contestants and the highest score wins? What are they scoring you on, I wonder?’ She couldn’t help the wicked smile…but inside, somewhere deep and almost forgotten, something hurt. ‘I can’t wait to see you on the cover of the magazine.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s not as bad as you think.’
‘How bad am I thinking?’
‘The date ends at the front door.’
Biting back resentment that she thought she’d got over years ago, she said, ‘That’ll be a novelty for you, then. I’ve heard you’re a regular Casanova these days.’
His lips stretched into an indolent grin that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Don’t believe everything you hear.’
The back of her throat tickled at the sound of that lazy tone. She glanced down, flicking her eyes to his again before they had time to indulge in the snug fit of his jeans and the way his exclusive hand-made casual shirt clung to his chest, even if the seam was too narrow for his broad shoulders. ‘If you’re going to look the part you’ll really have to update your wardrobe, or acquire a new tailor.’
‘Ah, ever the fashion designer. And looking a million bucks tonight,’ he said, his gaze skimming her body, just a tad longer than might be considered polite in company. ‘One of your designs?’
She met his eyes, paused, smiling inwardly, then sipped her drink. ‘No.’ Hah. He obviously knew nothing about her designs.
‘That’s right—you’re a photographer’s model these days. I saw your picture in a magazine here a couple of months back. Phoebe showed us. Very nice.’
His gaze swept over her once more. Was he comparing her to his girlfriends? According to Phoebe’s regular newsy e-mails from home, Dane enjoyed more than his fair share.
It no longer bothered her. After all, she’d put Dane in her past where he belonged years ago. Hadn’t she? Standing here, within his all-too-compelling aura, she wondered if she was as certain about that as she’d thought.
‘Not any more.’ She took another long gulp to wash the sudden bitter taste of Luc’s betrayal from her mouth.
‘Oh?’
‘There you are, Mari,’ Phoebe interrupted with breathless haste, clutching her mobile to her breasts and saving Mariel from having to discuss her ruined career.
‘Hi, Dane.’ She barely spared him a glance, and Mariel had the fleeting thought that life had gone on here as usual while she’d been away. Phoebe leaned in and murmured, ‘Kyle just rang. He wants to meet me. Now.’
Mariel stared at her sister, incredulous. ‘And you agreed? What happened to your New Year’s resolution?’
Phoebe bit her lip. ‘I know, I know, but…’
‘Don’t let him call the shots, Pheebes.’
‘I won’t. But I’ve got to meet him halfway, don’t I?’
Mariel raised a brow at the gleam in Phoebe’s over-bright eyes. ‘And where’s that?’
‘Um…a spot we like to go. Oh, and in case I don’t see you, I won’t be around when you get up. I’m on an early-morning flight to Melbourne. There’s a music festival on. So I’ve asked Brad Johnston to drop you home. You remember Brad; he’s keen to catch up with you again.’
‘Ah…’ Stomach sinking, she glanced over Phoebe’s shoulder, saw the familiar fuzzy-haired guy weaving his way through the crowd. More than keen, if Mariel wasn’t mistaken.
‘You two came together?’ Dane asked.
‘Yeah, my wonderful sister came to keep me company…um…because Kyle couldn’t make it. You don’t mind, do you, Mari?’
‘Of course not, but I think you should consider—’
‘No need to bother Brad,’ Dane cut in, his voice disturbingly deep, disturbingly close. ‘It’s all arranged, I’m taking Mariel home.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘OH? OKAY…but…’ Phoebe’s eyes darted between the two of them.
‘I’ll let Brad know,’ he told her.
‘Okay. Thanks, Dane. See ya later, sis.’ Phoebe pecked Mariel’s cheek and was gone in a whirlwind of pink and perfume.
‘Arranged?’ Mariel muttered, glaring at him while every internal organ traded places.
‘Wait here,’ he ordered, and was gone before she could utter another word of protest.
Hardly. But she stood immobile, feet stapled to the floor, while she watched him dispatch Brad in less than five seconds. Why weren’t her legs moving? Why wasn’t she getting the heck away before it was too late?
Dane could tell Mariel was unsettled by the sudden turn of events as he made his way back. Her eyes glinted dangerously, that beautiful mouth a slash of coral in her pale face. But, he noted with satisfaction, she’d made no attempt to disappear amongst the guests.
‘I was hoping to leave early,’ she said the moment he reached her side. Setting her cup down, she unzipped the diamante bag that swung from her shoulder. ‘About now, in fact. I wouldn’t want to spoil the evening for you. You probably came with someone…’ She pulled out her mobile. ‘I’ll call a cab.’
‘I told you. I’m taking you home. And it’s not a problem; I came alone.’
‘Oh…’ He saw her register that fact as her eyes clashed with his again.
Not a problem? Dane gave himself a mental slap on the forehead. They had unfinished business that went back ten years. To a night of youthful passion on a girly patterned quilt, the night-cooled fragrance wafting inside on the moonbeams.
Then a very ugly end outside his father’s garage.
Not a matter that could be sorted out tonight, Dane knew, but he’d taken one look at Brad and some sort of proprietorial instinct had kicked in.
‘But you’ll want to stay, enjoy…’ She waved a carefully manicured hand. ‘Whatever…’
‘I’m ready to leave when you are.’
‘Very well,’ she said with quiet formality, her spine rigid. ‘Thank you. I’d like to leave now, if that’s okay. My body clock’s still on Greenwich Mean Time.’
‘We’ll say our goodbyes, then.’ He placed a hand on the small of her back. He hadn’t counted on the heat that rushed into his palm at that first electrifying contact. Beneath his palm the sensuous fabric of her designer dress shifted against her flesh, making him wonder how she would feel without the silk.
Just smooth, sleek skin.
She flinched as if burned. So she felt it, too, he mused as he steered her towards their hosts. Interesting. Had she and her French lover called it quits? She’d returned alone, and there’d been a definite chill in her reply when Paris had been mentioned.
The paparazzi, eager fo
r their quota of celebrity guest snaps, were milling about the property’s open gates. A security guard waved Dane through. Bulbs flashed and a blur of faces bumped up against the window.
‘You’d be accustomed to this?’ he asked, steering his way through the photographers. ‘I should have asked if you were okay with it.’
‘Yes and yes. But in this case they’re not aimed at me.’
‘That ain’t necessarily so. You’re somewhat of a celebrity yourself these days.’
‘Not so much here. And it’s not as if I’m your date or anything.’
He glanced her way before spinning the car onto the country road, leaving the press behind in a spray of dust. ‘They don’t know that.’
She didn’t reply. In fact she looked serenely ahead, watching the moon-drenched paddocks and stands of gum trees flash by. Every so often a light glinted from a farmhouse behind the regular curtains of foliage.
She wasn’t as calm as she let on, he noted. The grip on her bag was white-knuckled, and her thumbs massaged the strap in tiny jerky movements against her thighs.
Thighs that looked smooth and silky and…very naked.
Eyes on the road. Only on the road. Sweat broke out on his brow. He switched the air-conditioning to full blast. ‘Too cold?’ he asked a moment later, more to fill the silence than anything else. Silence that seemed to throb with the sound of the bass from the stereo speakers.
‘No…no, it’s…cool.’
She changed position, and he didn’t have to look to know she’d stretched those long naked legs out in front of her. Within the Porsche’s confines her roses-and-sin perfume wound around his senses like a long-forgotten dream. He thanked whatever lucky star was out tonight that it was only a short drive over the next ridge of hills.
Through childhood she’d always been his best mate, generous and loyal and stubborn. By seventeen she’d turned into a confident, ambitious young woman who wanted to take on the world. And leave him behind.
He shook off the edgy thought and glanced her way again. At twenty-seven… Well, right now she was all about lusciousness and impact. But how well did he know this grown-up version? ‘You were saying you’re not modelling now?’ he prompted into the silence.
She hesitated. ‘No. My business partner and I parted ways.’
‘Luc?’ She’d carefully avoided mentioning the fact that he’d also been her lover. ‘Phoebe told me all about him.’ Slight emphasis on ‘all’.
‘Yes. Luc. I don’t want to talk about it. Him.’ She waved a disconcerted hand. ‘Any of it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and hoped he sounded sincere. And why wouldn’t he be? He’d only ever wanted the best for Mariel.
‘How’s your father?’ She spoke suddenly, as if she’d plucked something—anything—out of the ether to switch topics.
‘He was okay when I spoke to him a couple of months ago.’ And that was all Dane needed to know, all Mariel needed to know, and all he wanted to say about his old man.
‘And your mother?’
‘Still living in Queensland, last I heard.’ With her man of the moment.
‘So…by that I take it you don’t live at home now?’
Home. Dane scowled at the white line dissecting the road as it curved over a rise. Had the generations-old homestead set amidst acres of rolling Adelaide hills ever been a home? ‘Home’ implied two parents who were committed to each other, their marriage and their offspring. At least it did in Dane’s opinion; it seemed his parents thought differently.
‘I moved out years ago. Soon after you left, in fact. I’ve got my own place in North Adelaide. It’s close to work. Jus and I have an IT business there.’
‘Then I’m taking you out of your way.’
‘Not a problem. I like driving.’ He glanced in the rear-vision mirror, frowned at the car which had been tailing them since they’d left the wedding, and with a sharp twist of the steering wheel pulled over to the edge of the road. ‘Especially when you get a view like that.’
An almost full moon lifted out of the landscape, bleaching the fields and spilling inky shadows beneath the gums. From the corner of his eye Dane watched the car behind slow down, pass, then continue on.
‘Oh…wow.’ Mariel shimmied upright, her face animated in the soft glow. ‘I’ve missed this. It must be the atmosphere here, but the Aussie moon looks so much bigger than the Parisian moon.’ A quick grin danced over her features. ‘And wouldn’t they kill me back there for saying that?’
‘They wouldn’t if they were here,’ Dane murmured, his thoughts tumbling back in time. As a kid, how many evenings had he spent watching possum shadows play amongst the trees against a star-studded sky? Gazing at the moon in all its phases?
Waiting until it felt safe enough to go inside?
He shook his head, edged back onto the empty road. Being with Mariel after all this time was tossing up old memories.
The last time he’d seen her she’d been careening down his father’s driveway, grating gears and spraying gravel as she fishtailed onto the road.
He pressed his foot harder on the accelerator. The sooner he got her home, the better off he’d be.
The better off they’d both be.
A few moments later they approached her parents’ home. Dane checked the road behind him again before turning into the driveway. Since Mariel didn’t have a remote, he climbed out, punched in the code Mariel gave him on the panel set into the stone pillar and the tall gates swung open. They continued down a long drive, where blue agapanthus bordered a healthy lawn on one side, a row of old pines on the other. Ivy climbed the walls and iron lace framed a wide veranda. As they came to a stop three security lights winked on, but no light shone through the front door’s stained glass.
He peered up at the blackened windows. ‘Your parents out?’
‘They left for a Pacific cruise yesterday. Thanks for the lift.’ Her eyes flicked to his. He glimpsed nothing in those dark depths, as if she’d blanked all thought.
He didn’t want her to go in yet. Not this way. Hell, not as this polite and distant stranger.
He reminded himself their childhood friendship had been years ago. She wasn’t the young, innocent girl he remembered, with her fairytale dreams. She was a successful, mature and independent woman.
And what a woman she’d grown into. Those youthful curves had only grown lusher, and if it were possible her face more beautiful.
He switched off the ignition, sensed her instant panic. ‘Mariel…’
‘No.’ She closed her eyes briefly. ‘Not tonight.’
His hands tightened on the steering wheel momentarily. But tension showed in the lines around her mouth, the smudges beneath her eyes. ‘I’ll walk you to the door.’
‘It’s okay; this isn’t the city,’ she said, swinging the car door open.
‘I’ll walk you to the door,’ he repeated, and pulled his key out of the ignition. Some things hadn’t changed—still as stubborn as she’d always been.
And as fast—she was already halfway up the path before he’d climbed out. The aftermath of the day’s heat still blanketed the earth, thick and smelling of dried eucalypt and pine.
Metal tinkled as she fumbled with house keys, holding them aloft and squinting at them under the porch light.
‘Allow me.’ Dane took the keys from her hands. The brush of skin against skin sent a tingle through every nerve-ending in his fingers, up his arm and straight to his groin.
The flash of awareness when their eyes met was a stark reminder that they could never go back to the easy camaraderie they’d once had.
He wasn’t sure he even wanted that with her any more. Less than an hour in her company and his wants, his desires, were fanning to life inside him like a bushfire sweeping up from the valley floor.
She broke eye contact first, and a breathlessness caught at her throat when she said, ‘Phoebe gave them to me, but I didn’t ask her which one opened the front door…’
He fitted a key into the lo
ck but the door opened without it. ‘Not locked,’ he said.
‘Oh…that’s probably my fault. I assumed the door automatically locked once closed.’ Someone who didn’t know her as well as he did wouldn’t have noticed the slight sag in her posture.
Dane stepped past her and through the doorway, located the light switch. A warm glow from the antique foyer lights gleamed on polished wood and brass fittings, and brought a rich luxury to the burgundy carpet runner.
She glanced at the discreet panel on the wall as she followed him inside. ‘Damn. I didn’t even remember to set the alarm. Dad’ll throw a fit if he finds out.’
‘Only if you tell him.’ Without looking at her, he started down the hall. ‘I’ll check the place before I leave.’
‘That’s not necessary,’ she assured him quickly. A sudden nervous energy spiked her voice.
‘Yes. It is. Anyone could have come in.’
‘I look after myself these days.’
‘I’m sure you do.’
A few moments later, ground floor covered, he started up the stairs, switching on lights as he checked the rooms. Mariel followed, muttering protests. He paused at the last door on the left.
Mariel’s room.
So he left the light off. But as soon as he’d stepped inside he realised he’d made a mistake. Moonlight flooded the room, spilling over an open suitcase, a dressing table strewn with tubes and bottles. He breathed in the mix of feminine potions, powder and perfume like a man who’d gone too long without.
He’d never denied himself the pleasures to be found in a woman’s bedroom, but at this moment he couldn’t remember a single one that had ever compared to that one all-too-short time in Mariel’s arms.
Dangerous thoughts. He dragged his attention back to the task he’d set himself. ‘Everything seems to be okay, so—’
‘Of course it is,’ she snipped. ‘I told you it was. But did you ever listen to me? No. Oh… Why did you have to come in and…? Be you.’ She punctuated those final agonised words with a long slow breath.
The old guilt rolled nastily through his gut. In the pregnant silence that followed he heard the wind sigh through the trees, an echo of his own feelings. ‘I thought that was what was so good about us,’ he said, his eyes fixed on the moon but not seeing it. ‘We could be ourselves.’
