by JC Harroway
Monroe’s voice is wistful as she continues. ‘We try to make it a time of laughter and good memories, because there are heaps of those. A lifetime’s worth. Mum can’t just be remembered by a brass plaque at a chapel of rest.’
I nod, my lips mashed together and a hollow feeling expanding my chest. How do I comfort her now we’ve spent the night locked together physically? In past years I’ve sent flowers and a brief email stating I’d be there if she needed me.
She hadn’t.
I’d even gone to the funeral, tried to support a grieving Monroe. But she had Sterling and her large family to offer comfort. She hadn’t needed a man who, having never known his own parents, couldn’t fully understand what she was going through. The closest I’ve come to that was discovering that Wendy had died, and I’d managed that unsettled time with my usual coping mechanism: work.
‘She was a special lady,’ I say, stroking the back of her hand with my thumb. I met Cathy Dove once or twice around the time of Monroe and Sterling’s wedding, shortly after we founded Bold. I recall a lovely, warm, nurturing woman, always quick to laugh. The busy and noisy Dove household had regularly seen people dropping in for one of Cathy’s famous scones or lethal gin and tonics...
I’d felt out of my depth there.
‘You look like her,’ I say in lieu of anything remotely consoling about the imminent memorial.
Sterling once confessed he didn’t think Monroe would ever get over Cathy’s death. He even attributed her part in their marriage failure to Cathy’s untimely passing, saying she’d pushed him away and he hadn’t been able to compensate for what she’d lost.
‘Do you think so?’
I turn to face her and nod, drawn to bringing back her smile. ‘You have the same hair colour.’ I cup her cheek, my fingers flexing in the silky strands of hair at her nape.
Her smile is my reward. ‘And the same eyes.’
We keep walking.
‘Oh, sorry.’ She sniffs. ‘I don’t know where that heavy turn in the conversation came from. I must still be tired.’
‘Don’t apologise. I hate to see you hurting. It rips me open.’ With my arm around her shoulders, I drag her close and kiss her forehead. I ache for my playful, sassy Dove.
And now my own unwelcome memories resurface, ones I’ve spent my entire adult life suppressing. Wendy was the only remotely motherly figure I had before she got sick and I had to leave. I recall elaborate birthday cakes—a train, a spaceship and a football. Shiny new shoes at the beginning of every school year that didn’t pinch my toes... And cautious hugs I was too scared to trust.
My stomach lurches at the guilt that I didn’t reach out to Wendy and Bill until it was too late. I missed my chance to say thank you.
The crowds in front of us come to a halt at the red lights.
‘I forgot that you met Mum at the wedding,’ says Monroe. ‘She was so happy that day, to see the last of her brood safely hitched.’ She turns pensive once more.
I grow impatient with the wait for the trains to stop and the crossing to spring to life. I want to see Monroe smile again, so I rack my brains for something happy. ‘Yes, we had a brief chat. I was sitting in a corner and she came up and hugged me.’
Monroe smiles. ‘Yes, Mum could always spot the person most in need of a hug.’
I laugh. ‘She had something of a priest’s or doctor’s knack of drawing out confessions, if I remember rightly.’ I hadn’t bothered with a date for the wedding, so I guess I’d been conspicuously alone. ‘I told her how I felt mildly envious of what you and Sterling had together and her eyes lit up.’
Monroe’s small frown and perceptive appraisal give me pause. I’ve never before confessed that personal detail to her or Sterling. It’s not their fault I’m happy alone.
‘I’m sorry if Sterling and I made you feel...excluded.’ She squeezes my fingers. ‘We always tried to keep physical contact out of the office and encouraged you to bring a date when we went out together.’
Rather than feel comforted by her closeness, I feel strangely uneasy, forced to re-examine that time. I’d thought I was well used to feeling alone by then, but it had snuck up on me the night of their wedding. Perhaps because in business we were the three musketeers, but personally it was them and me.
I press a brief kiss to her lips. ‘I didn’t tell you that to make you feel bad. I just wanted to give you a nice memory of Cathy. She claimed to know lots of young women who’d trip over themselves for a date with me.’
Pride gleams in the periphery of Monroe’s eyes. ‘Yes, that was Mum, always matchmaking. Keen to see everyone happy.’
‘I didn’t have the heart to set her straight,’ I say, ‘to tell her mild envy would never turn into a reason to join the married club.’
Monroe stills beside me. ‘Why not?’
Earlier today she called me a lone wolf. I’m not sure why I brought this up—I could have left out that part of the story.
‘I just can’t imagine being that close to someone. Giving another person any sort of control over my contentment.’ When you’ve been powerless, power becomes everything. I shrug. ‘I guess I’m too set in my ways.’
Monroe flashes her compassion. ‘I understand, although Mum and Dad’s advice on marriage—or any partnership, for that matter—was to remember you’re part of a team with a common goal.’
Why are we talking about marriage when all I want to do is drag her back to bed?
‘It’s good advice. But, just for the record, I was happy for you and Sterling. I felt, if anyone could make it work, it was you two.’
She looks at me with curiosity, her eyes still carrying sadness. ‘And yet we couldn’t make it work. Somewhere along the way we forgot we were a team.’
I don’t want to think about Sterling, not when I plan to seduce Monroe into exhaustion over the next few days, but I can’t stop myself. ‘And yet you kept working as one. I’ve always been impressed with the way you managed to stay friends and stay professional.’
That degree of dependence is alien to me. Trust is something life has never taught me. Just before my tenth birthday I was moved on from Wendy and Bill. I learned to shut down emotionally. I stopped waiting for my real parents, who I don’t remember at all, to miraculously claim me in some sappy, happy ending. I stopped hoping for the perfect foster family to take me in and discover I was the missing piece they needed to be whole. I started looking inward for my strength. Self-reliance became a habit that still serves me well today.
‘I think that was the problem,’ she says. ‘We worked as friends and business partners, but we married for the wrong reasons. I thought I’d found the one, and had blinkers on so I could join the couple’s club my siblings belonged to. And Sterling had to prove something to his stepfather, I think.’
‘Do you still have regrets?’ I know she dates. That she’s still searching for a lasting relationship.
‘I regret the heartache caused. I was naive.’ She stares up at me and I tighten my grip on her shoulders. ‘I had romantic expectations. I wanted to see perfection, and then I struggled to compromise when I realised that it was an illusion. No relationship is perfect. I put a lot of pressure on us as a couple because I wanted to recreate the sense of belonging I’d felt growing up.’
For some reason her candour and insight make me uncomfortable. Then she shakes off her melancholy, her eyes turning playful once more.
‘I haven’t given up the search for my Mr Right. When I find him, you and Sterling will need to take over the business while I raise my own brood of children.’
My smile is rubbery. We want very different things from life. Just as I know she wants a husband and family one day, she knows she’ll never find that with a man like me.
The crossing lights overhead change to green, snapping me from my daze.
‘Is there anything I can do for you...you know...to h
elp with the memorial?’ She must know that, despite being atrocious at emotional support, I’d do anything for her and Sterling.
Anything but keep my hands off her, it seems.
She offers me an indulgent smile as we wait for the crowd in front of us to surge forward. She must see how out of my comfort zone I am. ‘That’s a very thoughtful offer. Right now, I think the most helpful thing would be distraction.’
She purses her lips in the sexy way she does. At least she’s no longer thinking about her failed marriage or her mum.
‘I’ll happily distract you for the next four nights.’ I rub a hand over my chin while I pretend to consider some options, but really there’s only one way I want to occupy Monroe.
She sounds forlorn when she says, ‘As long as you don’t have other...plans.’
I lead her into the flow of human traffic as the crossing becomes a moving sea of bodies lit from above by the giant advertising screens. I slip my arm around her waist and lean close. ‘I’m happy to make you my plans. I happen to know of a competitive little seduction game that’s currently at a draw.’
She tilts her head to one side, her lips parted with excitement. ‘Well, we can’t have that. Someone has to win...’
My head is awash with distraction techniques. In all of them, she’s naked. But now we’re stuck in the middle of Shibuya Crossing.
‘We could do a few tourist things. I can take some time off and show you the sights. I’d like to see the Cherry Blossom Festival too.’
‘Is that the best you can do, Black? I don’t want to brag, but if we were in London I’d show you a really good time.’ She flicks me the look that kept me awake hour after hour last night—pure sin and temptation. Sleep was irrelevant, given the way we’d scorched the sheets.
I pull her to a halt in the centre of the crossing. I sweep her into my arms and kiss her the way I’ve wanted to since we entered my office this morning, freshly showered and newly wary of each other.
She returns my enthusiasm, wrapping her arms around my neck and sighing against my lips. Relief shudders through me. People swarm around us, parting like a river around a rock.
I pull back, determined to make this trip to Tokyo her best yet. ‘I guarantee total mind-blowing distraction for the rest of your stay.’
Heat and playfulness and challenge gleam in the green-gold pools of her eyes. It’s as if we’re the only two people on the planet.
‘That’s a pretty tall order. Are you up to a mission of that undertaking?’ She stands on tiptoes and rubs her lips against mine provocatively.
A chuckle rumbles through my chest as we step back into the flow of human traffic. ‘The seduction challenge is back on. I’m happy to continue my winning streak if you’re happy to take a thrashing, Dove.’
‘Always such a high achiever.’ She laughs, the throaty sound and her glittering stare tugging my mouth into a grin while arousal and satisfaction pound through my blood. ‘Challenge accepted.’
CHAPTER SIX
Monroe
THE PRESENTER, ONE OF Bold’s mid-level executives here in Tokyo, has a droning voice, but my inattention at this morning’s meeting has absolutely everything to do with my daydreams. Of Hudson spending the night at my hotel—our second night of more orgasms than hours of sleep. Hudson waking me up with a kiss. Hudson ordering a large pot of English Breakfast Tea from room service because he knows that I can happily forgo breakfast but cannot start the day without my favourite beverage.
A girl could get used to this...
The man himself, overachiever extraordinaire when it comes to pleasuring me out of my mind, sits across the room near the front. How can I be expected to focus on industry trends and the fund management reports of our top performing portfolio companies with such an absorbing distraction so near?
I observe him in almost fanatical detail, noting the dashing sprinkling of salt-and-pepper grey at his temples, the way his handsome face is fixed with concentration and the cut of the charcoal suit I helped him select this morning from the collection he keeps in a closet at his office.
My pulse thumps behind my breastbone as I recall the tortured look on his face when he confessed how he’d felt envious of my relationship with Sterling. Oh, he was quick enough to remind me that marriage still wasn’t for him, but I’d seen past that to a glimpse of his vulnerable places.
Reading between the lines, interpreting what he didn’t say, I reasoned at times he must have felt excluded and lonely when the three of us were together and Sterling and I were a couple. And yet he’s always seemed so content to be single. So comfortable with his own company.
What if that’s all a front designed to protect himself? And why is that notion so...intriguing?
We’re discussing the final item on the agenda when Hina slips inside the room. She creeps around the edge of the large conference table and hands me a couriered package. I take the bulky brown envelope and absently slide my fingers under the seal while Hudson fires questions at the associate presenting his analysis of the latest business models and forecasts for the Asian division of Bold.
From across the room I catch Hudson’s eye. My insides flip; my body’s Pavlovian response is to expect pleasure when he looks at me that way. On the surface he seems work-focussed, his usual sharp-minded and thorough self. But there’s a gleam in his eye, a layer of heat that makes me shiver and recall his mouth between my legs at the crack of dawn.
I slide my hand inside the envelope, expecting a sheaf of documents or a company prospectus. Instead my fingers encircle a firm, phallic-shaped object that can only be a sex toy.
I freeze with my hand still inside the envelope. My eyes slam back to Hudson’s as my temperature soars. His associate is still talking to the room, spouting facts and figures he no doubt hopes will enamour him to the boss. But, from the small twisted smile on Hudson’s sinful mouth, his mind is elsewhere—on the contents of my envelope, to be precise.
He raises an eyebrow in defiance.
Oh, yes, he’s responsible for this delivery. He’s trying to win the seduction challenge with dirty tactics. How am I supposed to concentrate on work with his thoughtful gift in my hand?
I mouth Bastard at him, shivering with delight when he grins. He wanted me to open it during this meeting. To derail me or make me wild with need for him. I want to laugh. To kiss him until he’s too horny to be smug. Instead I narrow my eyes, wrapping my hand around the toy as I formulate a plan to raise the stakes.
The meeting wraps with Hudson’s ‘Thanks, team—keep up the stellar work.’ I shove the package into my oversized handbag and stand, my belly fluttering with anticipation.
The room clears, leaving Hudson and I alone.
We face each other across the glass-topped table. Sparks zap between us. His plan worked. Faced with only a quick lunch and an afternoon of meetings, I’m tempted to drag him into his office, lock the door and try out his gift.
‘You shouldn’t have...’ My voice is hushed. The door to the outer offices is wide open.
‘Ah, I disagree.’ He pushes his hands inside his pockets and rolls back his shoulders so his chest puffs out.
I want to press my face there so I can feel the thud of his heart and inhale the delicious scent of his freshly laundered shirt.
‘Some gifts are purely selfish.’ His wicked mouth quirks up.
We stare, suspended in a sensual stalemate for a few agonising seconds. Then he caves first, heading for the door and escorting me from the conference room towards the lifts. I check my disappointment that we’re not locking ourselves away in his bedroom with a do not disturb sign on the door.
As we bypass Hina, she holds out my coat.
I take it and glance up at him, trickles of warmth and excitement settling in my stomach. ‘Where are we going?’ Secretive Hudson is irresistible.
He winks, slipping his hand to my back.
‘I’m taking you to see the cherry blossoms—it’s a beautiful spring day.’
I gape, part-delighted, part-disappointed. I really wanted to break open the toy.
‘Come on, Dove, it’s too lovely to be cooped up inside.’
‘It’s...very thoughtful of you but we have...meetings.’ And a gift to unwrap. The fight in me is half-hearted and born of an addiction to his touch. His jubilant and playful mood is contagious. I really do want to see the cherry trees in bloom.
‘Nothing that won’t keep.’ He waggles his eyebrows, as if he’s talking about a sexy rendezvous, not our afternoon of business.
We enter Hudson’s private lift. Recognition zips between his body and mine, despite the perfectly respectable and professional distance we maintain for the benefit of his employees.
The minute the lift doors close, it’s a different matter. We reach for each other in frantic unison. Need drags a gasp from my throat as we kiss. Hudson presses me against the wall so the handrail digs into my back. But I don’t care. I hike up my skirt and he shoves one thick thigh between my legs, the fine wool of his trousers scraping the bare skin at the tops of my thighs above my stockings. I grind against him, desperate for the friction.
His kisses are wild, his fingers strumming my nipple through my blouse and bra. It’s not enough. I want more. I want him to stop this lift and finish what he started with his provocative delivery.
He tears his mouth from mine as the lift slows. ‘Fuck, you drive me to distraction.’
‘That’s what I was going to say.’ I grip the lapels of his suit and bring his mouth back to mine. ‘I’d rather have you than a toy, but I can’t wait to torture you for your sneaky attempt to win this round.’
He chuckles, leaning over to press a code into the panel on the wall, which stops the doors from opening.
His eyes darken, his stare fierce and hot. ‘Hold that thought, Dove.’ He’s hard against me, his hips jerking. ‘Fuck, that meeting was interminably long. I couldn’t concentrate. I wanted to clear the room and do this and then splay you over the conference table.’
