Escaping Mr Right

by Avril Tremayne

  Blink, blink, breathe. ‘Nick, you have to stop this, or I’m going to have to tell him.’

  ‘Go right ahead, Chloe, if that’s what you want to do. I’m not scared of Marcus.’

  ‘You should be.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Then there’s a little thing called loyalty you might like to consider, instead.’

  ‘I have considered it. I admire your loyalty, Chloe, I really do. I always have.’

  ‘Not my loyalty. Your loyalty. To him.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what, you let me worry about my loyalty to Marcus, and in the meantime, try to peer into your own murky waters. Love, lust, loyalty. What do you want, Chloe? Who do you want? And why?’

  ‘You can be sure of one thing, at least. I don’t want you.’ And on those flung words, I stalked off.

  ‘We’ll see, Chloe,’ he said, just loud enough for me to hear, and as my step faltered, just for a fraction of a second, he chuckled. It’s possibly the most hideous sound in the world, a chuckle. Only villains in melodramas chuckle. Marcus never chuckled, and certainly never at my expense.

  The moment I reached Marcus’s side he drew me under his arm, despite his attention having wholeheartedly returned to whatever his teammates were discussing. It was a natural, comforting, taking-you-for-granted-in-the-nicest-possible-way reflex action, which proclaimed to anyone who was interested that we were together.

  Together. The way we’d been for just over a year. Fifty-two weeks and three days. Steady, strong, united, sure of each other. No sniping. No taunting. No teasing. No … tempting.

  You’re wanted here. More. By me. I shivered as the words played through my mind, and Marcus rubbed my arm.

  ‘Are you cold, Chloe? Want my jacket?’ Always so considerate of my wellbeing. That was Marcus, the perfect gentleman.

  ‘No. No, no, no,’ I said, and rolled a metaphorical eye at the overkill of that – not that Marcus seemed to notice anything amiss with those surplus ‘no’s; he tuned straight back into the conversation. Leaving me free to ponder if perhaps I really should tell Marcus what Nick had said.

  The problem was, I suspected Marcus would just shrug it off. He simply wasn’t the jealous type. Which I’d always thought was a blessing, me being the ultimate keep-it-cool, scene-free, no-conflict, hold-the-drama type of girl.

  But in this instance? If I told Marcus, and he did nothing?

  I had an uncomfortable feeling Nick would take it as an invitation to come and get me. A risk I would not take. Which meant I wouldn’t be telling Marcus a damn thing about Casanova Savage’s unwelcome attentions. Score one for Nick.

  Something shimmered through me. Like a … a premonition, as I recalled what Nick had said: It won’t be the twelfth of never, Chloe. I won’t wait that long.

  Change. Something was about to change. Maybe it already had changed. Something I didn’t understand.

  Loosen the reins and you both might find out where you’re supposed to be.

  It was there, on the fringe of my consciousness, the something, if only I could concentrate. Block out everything else …

  I jumped, as I felt a touch on my shoulder.

  ‘… where you got it, Chloe?’

  It was Kelly, one of the girlfriends, and I quickly put together what it was she’d asked me from the envious look she was casting at the tiny handbag dangling from a chain over my shoulder.

  ‘I got it in Melbourne,’ I said, as I offered up the glittery pink sphere for closer inspection. ‘But it only holds a lipstick and one credit card.’

  ‘Who cares? It’s the colour I love,’ she said.

  And the flicker of awareness was snuffed out. Leaving behind only a hint of … of fear, almost.

  Blink, blink, breathe, as I looked around at our little group. The girls talking about fashion, Marcus’s muscular arm around me, one of the guys swapping my empty glass for a full one from a circulating waiter’s tray … All those things were as per usual. I told myself that nothing had changed. I certainly didn’t want anything to change. It had taken me long enough to wrench the life I wanted from the chaos of my imperfect childhood, and I liked being exactly where I was. Chloe Masters was no longer that lonely foster kid, being passed on from home to home, like one of Nick Savage’s harem girls. She was a respected television reporter, the poised and stylish girlfriend of one of Australia’s hottest sports stars. She was where she was supposed to be, and she was going to stay there.

  A year with Marcus. That was a milestone. Admittedly not as long as Kelly had been with Rock, but it demonstrated stability, commitment, permanence. I looked quickly at Kelly and Rock, wondering if they were about to make things truly permanent. A big step. A huge step. But they seemed so happy, surely it was on the cards. Kelly was nuzzling into Rock, blushing, whispering something in his ear as he … he … Oh. Ohhhhh!

  Rock was squeezing Kelly’s butt!

  I looked hurriedly away. Looked back at them. Away.

  And felt something in my head go ‘click’.

  I couldn’t remember the last time Marcus had squeezed my butt, or any other body part, for that matter. In private, let alone in public.

  I counted back, remembering the training sessions, the football functions, the promotional work for sponsors, the community engagements. All major time sucks. Back, back, back, I went. It had to be … two months …? No. No, three months.

  If I hadn’t had such iron control over my facial muscles, my mouth would have dropped open. Could that really be true? Another quick count, to find that yes, it could. It was true. I hadn’t had sex with Marcus for three whole months. I’d simply taken care of any stray sexual urges myself. Why did it seem worse to realise the last orgasm I’d had was self-produced? In fact, the last two. Make that three. Four. Oh!

  A spurt of alarm hit me. And doubt. Horrible, crippling doubt. Bad enough that Marcus and I weren’t having sex. Unforgivable that I hadn’t actually noticed until now. So … what? Did I need hormone therapy? Did Marcus? Had Marcus sustained a sports injury to his sex organs that he was too embarrassed to tell me about? Was there something I was doing wrong? Something off-putting about the way I looked, smelled or sounded in the throes of passion? Surely not! I was meticulous about all those things before, during and after sex. So … what?

  Clearly, I needed to get him into bed immediately and figure it out.

  ‘Marcus,’ I said softly, tugging on his arm.

  He looked down at me. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Do you know if there’s –? I mean, is there somewhere we can go and be … private? On the boat, I mean?’

  ‘What do you mean, private?’

  ‘You know …’ Meaningful look. ‘Private.’

  ‘Oh, private.’ He gave me a half-smile/half-grimace. ‘Not on the boat, Chloe. Not with these guys all over the place.’

  And that was it. Well, that and a quick kiss on my forehead, before he turned back to the conversation with the guys.

  Marcus had kissed my forehead; Rock had squeezed Kelly’s butt. There was something not quite right about that comparison.

  It was not a good time to catch sight of Nick Savage through the window, out on the deck. Because seeing him, with a blonde swooning at him on either side, made me wonder what Nick would do if a woman asked him to take her somewhere private.

  But I knew the answer. She would find herself crowded into one of the bedrooms, the bathroom, a semi-secluded part of the deck, even jammed inside the nearest lifeboat, pretty damn quick. Nick probably had a sixth sense about where to take a willing bedmate, honed by years of illicit sex in public places.

  The thing I want to give you isn’t an orgasm that’ll blow your mind – although I could.

  An orgasm that would blow my mind … How long had it been since I’d had a mind-blowing orgasm? Had I, in fact, ever had one?

  I was horrified to find my body clenching at the thought of Nick alone with a woman … a woman like me … with nobody else in sight, blowing her mind.

&n
bsp; No! Not going there. I dragged my eyes away from Nick and back to Marcus, who smiled down at me and then, for good measure, gave me another kiss on the forehead.

  Somehow, I didn’t think Nick Savage was going to kiss either of those blondes on the forehead. Inexorably my eyes followed my thoughts, back out onto the deck where Nick was apparently not at all put out that the two girls had now physically attached themselves to him. As though he could feel my eyes on him, Nick looked in through the window. Straight at me. And his smile disappeared.

  The girl on his right slid her hands around his biceps. It was ridiculous – even with both hands she only made it halfway round. Not to be outdone, left-hand blonde got in on the act. Two hands, halfway round his biceps.

  Exactly the sight I needed to wake up to myself. As if I really wanted to find a private corner with a girl-per-side man like Nick Savage! I was not a biceps-fondling groupie. I was a get-your-butt-squeezed-in-private type. I was classy, I was stylish. I was the girlfriend you had for the long-term, not for two weeks. A perfect girlfriend – and there was nothing wrong with ‘perfect’, no matter how Nick sneered out that word.

  Tossing my hair, I angled myself away from the obnoxious sight of the budding ménage à trois.

  I looked around at all the partygoers. The surroundings were glamorous, as befitting the brand of Gaz Finaldo, the billionaire owner of both the cruiser and the Sydney Scorpions. Champagne was flowing freely. The party food was exquisite. People were chatting, laughing; a few were even busting out some dance moves. Hunky guys. Gorgeous, fashionable girls. Exactly the kind of event I’d spent my teenage years dreaming of. And I was included.

  Yep, I’d finally made it.

  And I had never felt lonelier in my life.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The cruise progressed the way such events usually did. Marcus was his gregarious self, ensuring we were surrounded for the duration. There were speeches, during which, Marcus was presented with the prestigious team medal, making him even more popular. There was conversation and laughter and entertainment. And, of course, the free flowing booze resulted in a smattering of incidents – one broken toe, a flare gun being accidentally set off, and a girl stripping to her underwear and throwing herself at Nick Savage.

  Nothing unusual about any of it (except that for once, Nick didn’t seem interested in the nearly-naked girl), but by the time the boat docked I was longing to have Marcus to myself. Just the two of us, calm and steady, so I could re-set my equilibrium.

  Marcus had booked a limousine to pick us up. Once we were seated in the back and on our way, he reached for my hand in one of those taking-for-granted actions I liked, holding it loosely as he checked the texts and emails he’d received while on the cruise. And just like that, things felt normal again.

  ‘Ah, I meant to show you this before,’ he said, passing his phone to me.

  I read the email quickly then handed the phone back to him. It was an invitation to lead a school holiday football clinic in a remote rural community. A great cause, but the timing was hell – hot on the heels of Marcus’s end-of-season trip to Hawaii with the guys. ‘Are you sure you can you fit it in?’ I asked, even though I knew it wasn’t in Marcus – a country boy at heart – to turn down such a request.

  He smiled at me, all confidence. ‘Too easy.’

  ‘Hawaii’s only a week away, and even that’s not nailed down yet.’

  ‘I’ll fly out to do a recce at the school on Tuesday, then dot and cross the i’s and t’s for Hawaii on Wednesday night over pizza with the guys, fly to Hawaii as planned, tie up any loose ends on the clinic while I’m there, and when I’m back I can head straight to the school. As I said, too easy.’

  ‘Wednesday night?’ I said, with sinking heart. ‘Did you forget you were supposed to come with me to Evie’s for dinner on Wednesday?’

  ‘I thought that was tomorrow.’

  ‘No, she lands tomorrow. We’re giving her a couple of days to move into Jack’s penthouse before we descend on her.’

  ‘Hang on, let me just check what I’ve got coming up …’ Head bent to his phone, he started looking through his calendar, and murmuring to himself. ‘Can’t move that. Maybe that …? Uh-uh, no. How about … Nope, scrap that.’

  ‘Drew asked me particularly to get you there,’ I said mischievously, just because I knew it would get a reaction. Drew put Marcus a little on edge. Inevitable, given Marcus was what you’d call a blokey bloke while Drew was … flamboyant, shall we say?

  ‘Drew?’ Marcus asked, looking at me warily. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he’s got the hots for you,’ I teased. I saw the alarm chase across Marcus’s face, and almost laughed. ‘I’m joking, Marcus. He’s got the hots for half the rugby league players in Sydney, you know that. Look, it’s just a low-key catch-up to hear about Evie’s time in Morocco, but she’ll understand if you can’t make it. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before.’

  ‘How about if I popped in for coffee afterwards? I’m sure I could manage that.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  He grimaced. ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Okay, you’ll try,’ I said, resigned to the fact that I might see him … but I probably wouldn’t.

  Silence reigned for a while, and then Marcus put his phone into his shirt pocket and took my hand again. ‘Chloe …?’

  He sounded nervous – which made that shimmering premonition take hold of me again. We were sitting together as usual, holding hands like we always did, having one of our normal conversations about who had what coming up … but something had changed. What was it? What?

  Marcus cleared his throat. Slight pause as I waited for what he would say … and then he shrugged, and smiled, and the moment passed. And I was … glad.

  ‘I saw you and Nick talking on the boat,’ he said, and I stiffened before I could stop myself. ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Is it?’ I asked, searching his face for signs it really wasn’t good.

  But his face was completely guileless. ‘Of course. Nick’s a great guy and a good friend.’

  ‘Mmhmm.’

  ‘Mmhmm? That’s Chloe-speak for I don’t agree with you. What did he do wrong?’

  ‘Nothing. Nothing … important.’ I forced my body to relax. ‘It was just Nick being Nick.’

  ‘What does that even mean, Chloe?’

  I hunched an awkward shoulder. How could I put into words that Nick was just always there? Just … there. One eyebrow cocked in secret challenge. That half-smile special of his that he seemed to reserve solely for me, like a wordless I dare you. The way he grinned, which was basically a come-on in camouflage gear. Even the way he walked was an affront. Seriously, Nick Savage couldn’t seem to just walk like a regular human being; he had to stride or swagger or saunter, like he was genetically programmed to be a cocky, infuriating bastard.

  Marcus tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. ‘Earth to Chloe, come in, Chloe.’

  I ran my own smoothing, soothing hand over my hair. ‘It doesn’t mean anything. Nick’s just … confronting.’

  ‘That he definitely is.’ Marcus laughed, and squeezed my fingers. ‘Especially for a girl like you.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘You know.’

  ‘Not in this context, I don’t.’

  ‘Goddess-like,’ Marcus said. ‘The goddess – that’s what Evie and Drew call you.’

  ‘But that’s just a thing from our university days. A –’

  ‘A joke, I know,’ he said, raising my hand to his mouth to kiss the knuckles. ‘Except that it’s not really a joke, and all three of you know it. You’re so … composed. Poised. Never a hair out of place.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘And I mean that thing about the hair literally. Did you even notice that when I tucked that stray bit of hair behind your ear, you had to fix it yourself straight away to make sure it was as perfect as the rest of you?’

  My hand practically leapt for my hair, and Marcus laughed again. ‘It’s all tucked away, Chloe
.’

  ‘Like me, is that what you’re saying?’ I heard myself ask – and irritatingly, Nick’s words bounced into my head. Go on, let it out. Repression never did anyone any good. ‘Do you think I’m repressed?’

  ‘I think you’re regal.’

  ‘Smooth talker,’ I said, but what was supposed to come out lighthearted came out dull and flat.

  ‘I like “regal”,’ Marcus said. ‘It’s better than throwing jealous tantrums the way Kelly and Rock do. And don’t get me started on their PDAs.’ He laughed. ‘We’re not like that, you and I. We’re both even-keel, full sail ahead. It’s why we’ve been so good together for so long. But Nick is –’

  ‘Oh, really, we’re going back to Nick?’

  ‘– different. Nick has a different effect on you. Something molecular happens when you’re together, like fire and ice.’ Another pause, during which Marcus toyed with my fingers. ‘You couldn’t have the kind of relationship you and I have with Nick.’

  ‘I couldn’t have any kind of relationship with Nick,’ I said. ‘Not that I can picture him throwing jealous tantrums like Kelly and Rock either, given how easily he swaps girls with his friends every few weeks.’

  ‘That will change when the time comes.’

  I made some noncommittal sound.

  ‘In fact, I think you …’ He trailed off, looked out the window then back at me, and then shrugged. ‘I think you’re a bit tough on him, is all. I wish you’d try to get along a little better.’

  ‘I get along well with most of the guys on the team,’ I said, trying to feel my way through the subtext of this very strange conversation.

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  It was a simple acknowledgement, but something felt off about it, like there was a ‘but’ to come.

  ‘Anyway,’ Marcus said, before I could brood more deeply on what the hell was going on, ‘can we get back to the football clinic for a minute? I wanted to ask you if there was any chance Around the Globe might cover it.’

  ‘I’ll check with Larry.’