The Rules of Engagement

by Ally Blake

  She imagined herself behind the wheel with the top down, the sun on her skin, the wind in her hair, Springsteen blaring as the supreme machine ground its way around blind corners of a country road.

  Her dad would have loved it.

  She felt a familiar tingle of sadness burn down her spine at the fact that he wasn’t there to see it. To see her. To wrap his arm about her shoulder as he always had and say, ‘Kiddo, you done so-o-o good.’ She crossed her arms across her chest and held the thought in tight; taking every lick of confidence she could from the whisper of a shadow of a ghost of steadfast devotion.

  ‘Do you come with the car?’ a deep voice rumbled against her hair.

  Her sadness faded like mist in sunshine and with a sigh she leant back into the wall of solid male. ‘Depends who’s asking.’

  Dax’s low rumble of laughter created waves of heat like a firestorm rocketing right through her.

  She’d hoped he would come, but apart from that first time she’d not mentioned an invite again. It had felt like pushing her luck. Things had been good since they’d reconnected. Better than good. They couldn’t get enough of one another, barely using one another’s beds for sleep any more. It was hot, heavy, and after dark only. Just how a fling should be.

  It was only mildly disquieting that they’d not actually talked about the time apart once.

  There had been quiet moments, gentle lulls in between the bursts of heat, when she’d caught Dax looking at her as if he had something to say. But she’d always been the one to drown it out with a touch, a kiss, more. That, added to the long hours she’d worked up to the launch, she’d been left with no time, or emotional energy, to overthink it. To assume anything. Much easier.

  But the fact that he was there, supporting her on her big night, was more of a relief than Caitlyn would have dared believe.

  She turned into him slightly, enough to enjoy the feel of his hard body brushing against hers, but not enough to let any of the guests think they were in for a whole other kind of show.

  ‘Want one?’ she asked, her voice husky.

  She glanced up at him, finding herself entangled in the hot hazel intensity of his gaze. Her body reacted as if it had been weeks since she’d seen him, not hours.

  ‘Does it come in red?’ he asked, his dark eyes sliding to her hair before moving back to possess her eyes. ‘I like ’em red.’

  ‘Because they’re faster?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then this is your lucky night.’

  ‘Promises promises.’ Dax’s arm slid possessively around her front, tucking across her ultra-sensitive belly, and heat rolled through her until it scorched away any semblance of breath.

  She kept turning until they were front to front, his arm now sliding around her back. ‘So you’ll take one?’

  ‘Of what you’re selling? What the heck, I’ll take two.’

  ‘My boss is going to love me,’ she said, her voice low, her skin a hundred degrees and rising. ‘And he’s going to want to have your children.’

  ‘Really? Then I’d best get a look at him.’

  Biting back laughter, she turned away from him once more, bodies touching, then not, then settling back into the most inoffensive version of a clinch they could manage while still remaining G-rated, and nodded towards the bumptious man with the ruddy cheeks and exploding beltline chatting loudly bellow the trapeze trampoline.

  Dax said, ‘He looks like he’s on the verge of a heart attack.’

  ‘Not your type?’

  He gathered her closer and into her ear said, ‘Not even close.’

  As if he knew he was being talked about, Caitlyn’s boss frowned deeply, creating new chins beneath the old ones. He turned, sharp eyes seeking out the perpetrator, when he spotted Caitlyn. It was only in that moment that she realised that Dax was wrapped about her as if he were her own personal man-shaped coat.

  She felt a blush rising, and slapped at Dax’s arms.

  But it was too late. Her boss shook the floor as he made a beeline their way. Then his face broke into the first real smile she’d ever seen him make.

  She swayed back as she said, ‘Mr Crispin, this is my...that’s to say this is—’

  ‘Bainbridge, right?’ her boss said, practically drooling. ‘Eli Crispin. Great pleasure to meet you.’

  ‘Likewise,’ Dax said, not letting her go while he reached around her to shake her boss’s hand. ‘You’ve got yourself a winner here.’

  Eli’s eyes went straight for the Z9 and he nodded profusely. ‘Isn’t she a beauty?’

  ‘I was talking about the party planner, actually.’

  He glanced at the top of Caitlyn’s head. ‘Yes, yes. Fine job. Exciting night. Now tell me what you think of the fender. I wanted it to be reminiscent of the Bespoke Racer yet with a contemporary edge.’

  Crispin flapped a substantial arm at a wandering drinks waiter who all but lost his tray as he did a fast one-eighty turn in order to serve the boss.

  Caitlyn quickly disentangled herself, only to have Dax glare silently and wrap a hand about her wrist. The most innocuous of touches yet it burned through with the ferocity of a reckless kiss. And even that had nothing on the intensity in Dax’s eyes.

  Her heart beat hard enough it took her breath right along with it. Then with a quick spin she managed to loosen his grip and step back. Away. Space the only way to defuse the obscuring sparks zapping between them.

  She mouthed, ‘You’ll be fine,’ then spun away and walked off as fast as her heels could carry her.

  Whether it was the heat of his touch or the intensity in his eyes that had her feeling unsteady, all she knew was she needed to cool down. She had a job to do tonight. She’d deal with the rest later.

  * * *

  After what felt like hours later Caitlyn found a spot behind the fortune teller’s caravan to rub the balls of her feet.

  ‘Cait, this is amazing!’ Franny, late as to be expected, said as she tracked Caitlyn down, drink already in hand. She gave her friend a hard one-armed hug. ‘I reckon if you asked for a freebie right now, they’d give you the Z9 of your choice.’

  Caitlyn laughed. ‘Yeah, right. Have you met my boss?’

  Franny scrunched up her face. ‘Good point. You might be in for a free ham at Christmas if you’re really lucky. And in the spirit of getting lucky, how’s Dax? Is he the life of the party, or what?’

  Caitlyn glanced across the marquee. As if he had a homing beacon secreted under his skin, she’d known exactly where he was all night. Some of her best clients—super-egos all and frustratingly impossible to charm—were crowded around him, listening intently as if he were some kind of rock star.

  For a guy who didn’t do the party scene he looked as if he’d been born to woo a crowd. Tie-free in a white shirt and grey linen jacket, he oozed effortless sophistication like nobody she’d ever known. It came down to confidence. And if there was anything sexier than a man being comfortable in his own skin she hadn’t found it yet.

  As if he’d felt her eyes on him, Dax’s eyes found hers. He stopped talking mid-sentence, oblivious to the chatter that broke out around him. In that moment she doubted there was anything sexier than Dax Bainbridge, full stop.

  She had been looking forward to this night for months. It was the most important night of her career. It was an absolute triumph. And suddenly she couldn’t wait for it to be over.

  ‘Honestly, no man should be allowed to be that beautiful. It’s unfair to the rest of them.’

  Caitlyn blinked and glanced sideways. She’d forgotten Franny was even there. ‘Sorry. What?’

  ‘Your guy. He’s lovely, Cait.’

  He is, she thought. Beautiful. Brilliant. Built to last.

  A waiter slid discreetly by. Franny grabbed him by the cuff of his sleeve and piled her napkin with assorted hors d’oeuvres. Caitlyn shook her head. Apart from not wanting to end up with parsley in her teeth, or onion breath, she had so much adrenalin rushing through her fuelling a toxic m
ix of desire and dread, doubts and dreams, she couldn’t stomach a thing.

  ‘Hey, I keep forgetting to ask,’ Franny said, ‘what happened when you guys finally had the “previous relationship talk”?’

  ‘We’ve as yet to traverse that minefield,’ came a deep voice from behind them.

  Caitlyn blanched, spinning so fast her heel caught in a tuft of grass and she had to grab a caravan tail-light to stop from landing on her backside, while Franny almost choked on a crab puff.

  ‘Why do I get the feeling if I’d waited another minute I’d have walked in on something really juicy?’ Dax asked, his dark eyes filled with assurance, not suspicion. Not even a little.

  ‘You have no idea,’ Franny muttered.

  Caitlyn shot Franny a quick glare, but Franny was steadfastly ignoring her.

  ‘I see. So what are we talking about here?’ Dax asked, now glancing from one to the other. ‘A string of broken hearts leading all the way from the Central Coast to Melbourne?’

  ‘Well—’ Franny began, until Caitlyn kicked her in the shin.

  As Franny bounded on the spot, grabbing her leg, Caitlyn said, ‘Sorry. Thought there was a bee on my foot.’

  Franny raised her eyebrows manically at Caitlyn, encouraging her like mad to get it over with.

  But when she told him, if she told him, about George and the others, it would be when the time felt right. Not here. In public. At the most important work function of her career.

  Frowning madly back, Caitlyn said, ‘Unfortunately I signed non-disclosure agreements with every single ex. Reasons of national security.’

  Dax’s dark eyes collided with hers, questioning but still not wary. ‘That juicy? Now you have me intrigued.’

  ‘And for tonight you’ll just have to stay that way. Remember how much we decided we like a little mystery?’

  ‘Did we now?’

  Franny had stopped choking, only now her eyes were all but bugging out of her head. Caitlyn ignored her as best she could. Hoping her friend would get the point and move on.

  She did. Franny spun on her heel and took off, leaving them alone. Just Dax, Caitlyn, and her past, which suddenly felt like an anvil around her neck.

  And she knew the fact that she was working, or in public, or wearing green for that matter, had nothing to do with her decision to hold off telling him.

  It had far more to do with the look in his eyes as he’d watched her all night. The same look she’d first seen the last time they’d been together. She’d woken during the night to find Dax watching her, his dark eyes roving over her face. It had made her feel special. It was a feeling of such intimacy, and connection, and trust, like nothing else she’d ever known.

  But if he knew about George, and the rest, she felt certain he’d never look at her as if she was such a prize again.

  She swallowed. Hard. Feeling as if she were all at sea without a lifeboat and the sharks were circling.

  ‘Mingle with me?’ she said, grabbing Dax by the hand and yanking him out into the safety of the crowd.

  He curled her back to the caravan’s shadow. ‘There are other things I’d rather be doing with you, which don’t include hordes of strangers.’

  She avoided his eyes. Tried a joke. ‘You are so-o-o straight.’

  ‘Immovably so.’

  As his breath warmed her skin, she so wanted to lean into him, to soak up all that gorgeous male warmth. But all the thoughts of boyfriends past had created a barrier around her, as if she were wrapped in cellophane.

  ‘Caitlyn! Miss March!’

  Her boss’s voice split the heavy silence and she was so relieved she could have wept.

  ‘Duty calls!’ she sing-songed, avoiding Dax’s astute eyes as she ducked under his arm and walked away. Fast.

  * * *

  After she’d given her boss the directions to the men’s room that he’d been after, Caitlyn tracked Franny down, grabbing her by the elbow and physically walking her away from the Pegasus interior fabric designer she was flirting with.

  ‘No!’ Franny said, looking longingly over her shoulder. ‘He was the one. I just know it.’

  ‘He’s married.’

  ‘Damn it!’

  Caitlyn manoeuvred them to a secluded spot behind a massive potted palm tree, her eyes scanning the room to make sure no one was within hearing distance. ‘Franny, I beg you to be more circumspect.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Talking about me, private things about me, while I’m working. In front of Dax.’

  Franny was so shocked she looked as if she’d been kicked in the shin and for no good reason this time. Then her face cleared of all expression until it was eerily blank. She wiped a smudge of sauce from the corner of her mouth and said, ‘You mean how you’ve been engaged three times.’

  Caitlyn nodded shortly, not looking at her friend.

  ‘Jeez, Cait, I can’t believe you haven’t told him yet!’

  ‘I— It’s no big deal. I haven’t told him I kissed Kyle Manning behind the science lab in grade five either. Or that I got to second base on school camp in grade twelve with a boy whose name I haven’t been able to remember in years. Or that I, a grown woman, had a little crush on Zac Efron during the whole High School Musical phenomenon.’

  ‘We’re not talking about a crush or two. I’m talking about George. And Alex. And...Whathisface with the dimples and the chocolate Lab.’

  Marty, Caitlyn thought, I was engaged to him for two days after dating for a month. No wonder my best friend can’t remember the poor guy’s name. She pushed the memory away. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘No,’ Franny said sharply, shaking her head in Caitlyn’s peripheral vision. ‘It’s really not.’

  A shiver of something familiar, and awful, scooted down Caitlyn’s back. She and Franny never fought. In fact Caitlyn never fought with anyone. Probably because of the tangled push and pull of her relationship with her mum, she was a cheerleader. A peacemaker. The idea of disappointing someone who loved her brought her out in hives. So much so she’d never once said no when someone perfectly nice and completely wrong for her had asked her to marry them. While Franny was just impossible to offend.

  ‘Can we just drop it?’ Caitlyn asked as her neck grew hot and patches of skin started to itch.

  ‘No. I don’t think we should. The way I see it, if you and Dax are exclusive then he deserves to know.’

  Caitlyn felt an urge to put her fingers in her ears and shout ‘lalalalala’.

  ‘So you’re not exclusive,’ Franny said.

  ‘Not...expressly.’

  Not that she’d seen anyone since she’d started dating him. Or wanted to for that matter. The very idea seemed unnervingly ludicrous. And the idea that he might be out there dating other people made her feel physically ill.

  ‘So what is he? How have you described him here tonight to anyone who’s asked? What if old Crispin wanted to know? Is he your boyfriend? Your friend? Your booty call?

  ‘Franny—’

  ‘Because the thing is, Cait, if he is just a casual screw, as you’re still trying so desperately to convince yourself he is, then how can it possibly hurt for him to know?’

  Franny’s harsh language shocked Caitlyn from her escalating catatonia. She spun to face Franny, mouth open wide. Then realised she had nothing to say.

  Franny took her by both hands, forcing her to look her in the eye. ‘He’s not the kind of model you replace once he’s exceeded his warranty. Dax Bainbridge is a keeper. On any planet. And as far as anyone with two eyes and a modicum of smarts can see, he adores you to the ends of your oft-coloured toes. If you want him, he’s yours.’

  Caitlyn wished there were a chair nearby. If she didn’t put her head between her knees, and fast, she was going to faint.

  Because Franny was right. So right. Dax was nobody’s rebound guy. Nobody’s sorbet. He left far too lasting an impression to be considered anything nearly so insubstantial. In fact she felt pretty rotten inside for ever allowing h
erself to pretend she’d ever believed it of him.

  Dax Bainbridge was beautiful, brilliant and built to last.

  One problem: she wasn’t.

  She’d tried. She really had. She had the engagement rings to prove it. But when it came to the crunch she crumbled. The thought of committing herself to one person, to promise to love one person for the rest of time while armed with the knowledge that it could all be taken away in the blink of an eye, gave her panic attacks.

  ‘I need...more time.’

  ‘For what? To break up? To ease up? To realise what anyone looking at you can see in an instant—that you’re awesome together?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  And that was a startling truth. Usually she plundered forward in order to avoid looking back. But now she had no idea which way to turn.

  Maybe she’d broken the pattern after all, only the catharsis she’d been searching for didn’t come. If anything she felt worse. Franny wrapped an arm around her and gave her a great squeeze. ‘Oh, hon. Just know I’m only ever looking out for your best interests. And if I didn’t give you a polite slap across the back of the head if I think you need it, I couldn’t call myself your best friend. Okay?’

  Caitlyn nodded, not trusting her voice.

  Then Franny gave her a big kiss on the cheek. ‘I’m going to mingle. Find myself a lonely millionaire. Think about what I said, okay?’

  When Franny slipped away, Caitlyn’s vision cleared and she realised her boss was now waving madly to her, and jabbing his pointer finger at a pair of well-dressed boys who looked as if they were just out of high school and worth a billion dollars already. Tech nerds. Just her crowd.

  She took a couple of moments to bring her breathing back under control. To find a way through the emotional vacuum sucking up every feeling in its path.

  She rubbed her cheek, knowing Franny’s bright red lipstick would have left a mark, and with her head high she plastered a smile on her face and got back to work, knowing the internal marks their conversation had left would take a lot longer to fade.