‘Rob’s sex scandal,’ I said. ‘That’s the main one. Plus Benny and the drugs.’
‘And they chose you to counteract that?’ I asked. ‘I mean … you?’
‘Chloe!’ Marcus, looking shocked, gripped my hand. ‘You don’t know what –’
‘It’s fine, Marcus,’ Nick interrupted smoothly. ‘She can say whatever she wants.’
But Marcus’s disapproval had brought me up sharp, so I forced myself to dial back the animosity. I’d already shown a few too many true colours tonight, and a little neutral beige was called for. ‘I just … I thought … I thought you were committed to Hawaii, Nick, that’s all.’
‘Someone’s got to take one for the team,’ Nick said, and then came the dare you half-smile. ‘And apparently I rate best with female viewers.’
‘Oh, I see,’ I said, and I’m afraid I didn’t have quite enough restraint to keep the scorn out of that.
‘Do you?’ he asked.
Evie stepped into the fray – possibly afraid we’d get down to actual hand-to-hand combat if another fight erupted. ‘Chloe, you can just give me your chief of staff’s number? I can take it from here.’
‘Right,’ Marcus said. ‘Settled. Thanks, Evie. So, Chloe, are you ready for me to take you home?’
‘Yes, please,’ I said. And as I rose gracefully from the couch, I tried to remember what underwear I had on. Red lace. Good choice. Not that all my underwear wasn’t fabulous, but it had been three months since Marcus had seen any of it, so I was eager to make a good impression.
‘Nick, what about you?’ Marcus asked. ‘I can drop you afterwards.’
Afterwards. The word stuck in my head like a spear. Afterwards.
Evie darted a look at me that I interpreted as, Oh shit, no sex tonight. Or maybe that was me projecting.
But for once, Nick showed some sensitivity, bowing out of the offer. ‘I’ll find my own way,’ he said. ‘I’m hoping Evie will let me check out the terrace before I leave. I’m thinking about buying an apartment in this building, but it’s going to come down to the view.’
‘Of course,’ Evie said, latching on. ‘Go on out, Nick. Take your time. As loooong as you like.’
Subtle with the ‘loooong’ there. She’d be giving us an ‘okaaaay’ any minute now.
‘Thanks, Evie,’ Nick said, and turned to Marcus, who was hesitating. ‘I’ll cab it, no drama.’
‘But we can easily wait for you,’ Marcus offered.
As a general rule, I did not goggle, but I’m sorry to say I goggled at that point.
‘Really, there’s no need to wait,’ Nick said, and his mouth twisted, like he was trying not to laugh. If I was envisaging an ice pick for Evie, I was seeing a double-sided axe for Nick. ‘And Chloe looks like she’s ready to … er … hit the sack.’
‘You sure, Nick?’ Marcus – at which point I added a blunt instrument to my imaginary arsenal, suitable for bludgeoning his thick head!
‘Positive.’ Nick, with his still-twisted mouth.
Evie ushered me and Marcus to the door, kissed us both goodnight, and gave my arm an encouraging squeeze.
But I was not encouraged. On the contrary, I was extraordinarily discouraged.
It was time to face up to the truth: I had lost my mojo.
And I had no freaking idea where to find it.
CHAPTER FIVE
In silence, Marcus led me to the little side street where he’d parked. His car was a midnight blue Jaguar and I loved everything about it – the look, the feel, the status symbolism. Everything about it was perfect. But when he opened the passenger door, I hung back.
‘Chloe?’
Nope. I was not getting in. Because once I was buckled in, Marcus would turn up the music, keep his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel. And I needed my voice to be what he was hearing, his eyes and hands to be on me. So no car. Not yet.
Instead, with a picture of my going-to-waste red underwear in my head, I went off script and after checking there were no passersby in close proximity, I threw my arms around him.
And he … let me.
He let me.
My arms dropped, and I stood there, looking up at him, wondering if Ruby’s WAG guide was available on the internet, because I clearly needed some tuition.
Marcus fidgeted with his keys and glanced longingly at the car. But he didn’t speak, and he didn’t move. He just … waited.
This could not go on. Forget about dwindling libido, my dwindling self-esteem demanded I fix things between us, because I could not be put in a position where I was flinging my arms around a man in a public street begging for love. Chloe Masters did not throw herself at people and did not beg.
‘Marcus, what’s happening to us?’ I asked quietly.
‘What?’ he asked, and laughed – except it wasn’t really a laugh. ‘Nothing.’
‘Then kiss me.’
He leaned in but I could tell where he was heading, and I pushed against his chest. ‘Not on the forehead, on the mouth.’
‘Chloe, I’m tired.’
‘On the mouth. With tongue. Because I’m tired too, Marcus. I’m tired, but I’m not dead.’
He gave me a little look – which had more than a touch of loin-girding about it – and kissed me on the mouth, with tongue, as requested. Then he drew back, looking both hopeful and doubtful.
‘So are we okay, Chloe?’ Marcus asked.
I wanted to say No, we are not okay. I wanted to scream it at him. Blink, blink, breathe. But, ‘Yes, we’re okay,’ I said, because when push came to shove, the alternative – not being okay – was too frightening.
Marcus took my elbow. ‘Then come on, get in the car, and I’ll drop you home.’
‘Are you staying with me tonight?’ The moment the words were out, I regretted them. Because I could read the answer in his guarded eyes.
‘Not tonight, Chloe. I have –’ He stopped, jangled his keys in his hand again. ‘I have another video call about Hawaii.’
I opened my mouth to speak – but before I could get a word out, he laid his fingers across my lips.
‘Tomorrow night, okay?’ And then he winced. ‘Oh, no, not tomorrow night. I’ve got the –’
‘Hospital benefit, I know, it’s okay,’ I said, and meant it. It was impossible to resent Marcus’s extensive charitable and community commitments. Impossible to resent the promotional work he did for his sponsors. Impossible to resent his gruelling fitness and training regime. It was all part of his job, and my own job in the cutthroat world of television was equally time-consuming, which he likewise accepted uncomplainingly. Really it was impossible to resent even his video call, or the trip to Hawaii after the exhausting year he’d had.
‘Why don’t you re-think tomorrow night and come with me?’ Marcus asked.
‘No, I told you, Becky is covering it for the station, and she’s made it clear an appearance by me will cramp her style.’ I smiled at him. ‘But make sure you give her an on-camera comment, won’t you?’
‘Sure thing. And I’ll get her some time with Gaz, too.’
‘Meanwhile, I’ll check my schedule, you check yours, and we’re sure to find one night that will work before you fly out.’
‘Bound to,’ he agreed, and drew me in for another kiss – this time on the forehead. ‘So are you ready to go, Chloe?’
I stared at the yawning door of the Jaguar but couldn’t seem to make my feet move. I didn’t want to get in the car. ‘Actually,’ I said, thinking quickly, ‘I’ve just had an idea for Manila. About … about tying it in with that school clinic you’re doing when you get back from Hawaii. I’ll just run back up to Evie’s and run it past her and … and Nick, while he’s there. You go on and I’ll see you …’ I gave a small laugh. ‘Well, when we sort out our schedules, I guess.’
‘Let me walk you back,’ Marcus said, and went to take my arm.
‘It’s only a few steps,’ I said, controlling an impulse to pull away from the touch. Marcus’s trademark solicitousness ha
d never annoyed me before, but at that moment it seemed overdone. A hollow gesture.. I was a stone’s throw from the apartment building. I was also well able to defend myself – not that Marcus had any idea of the way my pre-perfect life had honed my survival instincts; I’d taken damn good care to hide it from everyone except Drew and Evie. ‘Seriously, Marcus, it will be fine. Look, you can even see the entrance to the building from here.’
Reluctantly, he let go of my arm. ‘Fine, then I’ll watch from here.’
‘It’s a whole … what? Hundred metres?’
‘Humour me.’
I swallowed a sigh, and managed to smile. ‘Okay.’
‘And while you’re humouring me …’ He hesitated. ‘Can you try to take it easy on Nick?’
‘On Nick,’ I repeated. Nick, the ‘great guy and a good friend’. Nick, who’d been hitting on me under Marcus’s nose all year. Take it easy on Nick.
‘It’s a big deal, this story. For one thing, Gaz is gung-ho to get us in the news for the right reasons for a change. And for another, Nick, is …’ Another hesitation, and then a smile that looked just a little forced. ‘Look, just take it easy on him, that’s all I’m asking, okay?’
‘I’ll be sunshine and light, I promise,’ I said, with my own forced smile. ‘If you will humour me and get in the car.’
Marcus laughed. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll get in the car. But I’m not going until I see you buzzed in.’
I walked back to the building, pretended to push the intercom, pretended to speak. And then I waved at Marcus, with my hand strategically placed on the glass door of the apartment building to give the appearance that I was about to push it open.
Finally he drove off, and the tension drained out of me.
Of course, I had no intention of going back up to the penthouse – not while Nick Savage was ensconced there charming the wits out of Evie. I’d just needed Marcus to go because I’d felt … smothered. It reminded me of how I’d felt on the boat, hemmed in and yet somehow disconnected. Lonely, without being alone.
And the feeling that something had changed was getting stronger, even though, ostensibly, nothing had changed. Truthfully, even the fact that my sex life had been gradually withering on the vine was hardly the revelation of the century. It had just been happening so gradually, I hadn’t noticed until I’d been forced to see it. ‘Gradual’ could have been the watchword for my relationship with Marcus. We’d met, we’d liked each other, we’d strolled rather than galloped into a partnership. Torrid lovemaking had never been a hallmark of what we had together, and seeing each other seven nights a week had never been the pattern. But we cared about each other. We looked good together. We were good together.
Nothing. Had. Changed.
And on that note, it was time to go home and choose something irresistible from my underwear drawer in case Marcus and I found a mutually satisfactory night to get together before he flew out. Maybe then we could reconsider the torrid lovemaking aspect, and then I could tell Drew and Evie that everything was back on track.
I dug into my bag for the keys to my car, which was parked under Evie’s building – and then I remembered the martinis. Just because I didn’t feel inebriated didn’t mean I was fit to drive. It was going to have to be a taxi. I turned away from building, took two steps … and stopped as I heard two things, one after the other.
The apartment building doors sliding open.
And an infuriating, drawling, obnoxious voice: ‘Waiting for me, Chloe? I’m touched.’
CHAPTER SIX
‘As if, egomaniac,’ I sniffed.
Nick looked relaxed as he moseyed towards me, but his eyes were sharp, intent on the keys in my hand. ‘So why are you still here?’
‘I was going to go back up and see Evie, but then I remembered you were there. So I changed my mind. Obviously.’
Smiling at my answer, he stepped closer. ‘I thought you were dragging Marcus home to bed. Wasn’t that the aim?’
‘Dragging?’ Condescending laugh. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘So where is he?’ Nick asked, cutting to the chase.
I tried my famous gimlet-eye on him, but it seemed to have lost its deadliness – either that or the martinis were having an impact on my facial expressions – because he simply held out his hand, palm up.
‘What?’ I asked uncooperatively.
‘Keys. Hand them over. I’m driving you home.’
I put my hand behind my back. Good Lord, if that didn’t prove the state I was in! If he wanted the keys, hiding them behind my back wasn’t going to stop him. He could bend me like a reed using only half of one muscle.
‘Chloe.’ And it was a warning.
‘I was going to take a taxi.’
Nick just stood there. Implacable, hand out, waiting.
I stared at him, wishing I could tell him to shove my keys somewhere that would make sitting uncomfortable. But I was fairly certain he would invite me to try to shove them there myself if I went that route. So, with a huffed out, ‘Fine,’ I slapped the keys – hard – into his hand.
‘There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?’ he asked, in a soothing tone that, unsurprisingly, did not soothe me.
‘It’s in the car park under the building,’ I said, and stepped past him to punch Evie’s code into the keypad.
I sailed into the building, across the lobby, waving blithely at the concierge, and headed for the elevator that led to the car park. I’ll give Nick credit for having the brains to stay silent as the elevator descended and we headed for the car. He knew I was spoiling for a fight and he wasn’t going to give it to me.
But when we reached my zippy little Mazda roadster, he sighed.
‘And what is wrong with my car?’ I asked belligerently.
‘Have you noticed the size of me?’ he asked.
Size. Again.
I was powerless to stop myself looking at the front of his jeans.
Uh oh. He was big. Like, big!
Blink-blink-blinking, I raised my eyes to find him watching me – and he was not at all embarrassed to be caught with a hard-on. He was smirking. The next worst thing to do, after chuckling.
‘I didn’t ask you to drive me.’ And hmmm, that came out a little breathier than I would have liked. To compensate, I tried another gimlet eye. ‘You’re basically kidnapping me.’
‘Get in the car, Chloe.’
I waited for him to try to open the passenger door, ready to rip his head off for daring to commandeer my own vehicle, but he wasn’t stupid enough to do it. Or maybe he was just a Neanderthal who didn’t think he had to open a door for a girl …?
Which is what I decided to go with, ‘A gentleman would open the door.’ With hair toss, getting into the car.
He didn’t speak until he was squashed into the driver’s seat and had eased the seat back to accommodate his long legs. And then, ‘I thought you might have had a little too much “gentleman” for one evening,’ he said. ‘Aren’t you ready for something else?’
Okay, how was I supposed to respond to that?
‘What do you say, Chloe?’ he asked softly.
‘I say let’s go.’
‘I’m ready if you are.’
Which could have meant ‘let’s drive’, or something else entirely. Well, I was not going to play innuendo games. So I just sat there, waiting for him to start the car.
Silence, silence, silence. And then I snapped. ‘Well?’
‘Address?’
Grrrr – and it may have actually come out of my mouth, that growl, judging by the way his mouth twisted. How did he manage to keep getting under my normally impervious skin? I dug into my bag, grabbed my purse, fished out my driver’s licence and held it out to him without glancing in his direction.
‘Thank you, Chloe,’ he said, calmly enough to make me want to explode.
As he pulled out of the car par and onto the road, I trained my eyes on the view outside the passenger window, and kept them there, watching buildings whizz by, counting stre
etlights. Anything to take my mind off the feel of his massive thigh pressing against mine every time we turned a corner. Yeah, all right, he had a point about the roadster and how he fit into it.
‘What car do you drive, anyway?’ I asked, disgruntled, as I inched my leg away for what felt like the thousandth time.
Pause. Then, ‘Not a Jaguar.’
Not a Jaguar. Not an answer. In protest, I went back to looking out of the car window. By the time Nick pulled into the underground car park of my own apartment building, the silence was gnawing at me, but I was damned if I was going to break it.
We got out of the car and he threw the keys to me to lock it. Definitely not stupid. But then, he’d probably infuriated enough women over the years to have learned a few lessons. He strode ahead of me to the elevators – where he was stupid enough to keep the door open for me.
‘It’s my elevator,’ I snapped. ‘I’ll push the buttons.’
‘I have a button you can push whenever you’re ready,’ he said.
I jabbed once, hard, at the button for the ground floor.
‘You live on the ground floor?’ he asked.
‘No, but that’s where I’ll be letting you out of the building, before proceeding to my apartment alone.’
He was biting his lip again, suppressing a laugh, which, of course, completely steamed me. Enough to have me striding out of the elevator almost before the doors fully opened at the ground floor. I hurried over to hit the exit button, wanting him to get the hell out of the building immediately.
The doors opened. Go, dammit, go! The doors closed.
But Nick was still standing on the inside.
Lips pinched tight, I hit the release switch once more.
Doors opened.
Waiting, waiting.
Doors closed.
Nick on the inside. With me.
I turned to him. Tap, tap, tapped my foot on the tiled floor.
‘“Thank you for driving me home, Nick”,’ he said in an attempt at a girl voice.
‘I’m not thanking you for foisting your unwanted company on me.’
‘“Thank you, Nick, for not letting me drink-drive and kill myself”’.
Escaping Mr Right Page 6
