Floored

by Paton, Ainslie

  “I grew some balls and rang Mum.”

  She looked up. “How did that go?”

  He picked up the menu. “Predictably badly. I babbled and she gave me static.”

  “You don’t seem upset.” Caitlyn picked up her menu too.

  He grinned at her over the top of the fake leather binder. “She’ll thaw. She’s my mum. It’s in the job description. Anyway, I’m putting on a brave face. There’s this girl I want to impress.”

  “But you’re out with me—you scumbag.”

  He folded the menu and put it down on the table. He considered her across the single scrawny carnation with a sprig of greenery in a red plastic vase. “You know, next to my mum, you’re the scariest woman I know.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a try-hard con artist. Do you ever fool anyone?”

  He scratched his chin. “I seem to recall fooling a couple of Sydney bikie gangs, and before that I did a good impersonation of a drug dealer in Cabramatta and then there was this lady chauffeur…” his voice trailed off, but his eye contact was solid rock.

  “Do you think you fooled her?”

  “In the beginning. But she caught on fast. She thought I was a crooked cop.”

  “You’re not?”

  “What’s in the cake tin, Cait?”

  She frowned. “Magic.”

  “Magic?” He looked surprised, but by her answer, not by the fact she’d looked.

  “Yeah. It should be drugs or money, but it’s a David Jones Christmas cake.”

  “I’m not a crooked cop.”

  “For the next few days I don’t care what you are, as long as you’re good in bed.”

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” He looked at the ceiling. “I thought you were this polite, quiet, self-conscious girl.” He looked back at her. “Someone my mum would like.”

  He was probably playing with her, but just in case. “Did you really?”

  “Shit no. I thought you were faking that. I’m only getting to see the real you now, Tiger.”

  She smoothed her hands down her ribs. “It’s leopard.”

  He growled. “Different skin, same cat. They all have claws, they all purr.”

  She leaned across the table and he followed her lead; both of them had their ribs pressed on its plastic tablecloth edge. “Do you still want to make me purr?”

  He rocked back laughing. “I want to make you kick and bite and yowl.”

  “You’re no gentleman.”

  He looked offended. She’d meant it in fun, but it was one of the first things she’d noticed about him, that his rough exterior didn’t always match his manner, that inside the gruff warrior was a gentler soul. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  He picked up the menu again. “Don’t be sorry.” He leaned forward. “Be ready.”

  Her head said, ‘for what’, but her heart knew. He was bikie and cop, devil and angel, gentleman and savage. They were all part of him, all facets of his personality. It was how he could morph between Fetch and Sean, and it was how he’d captivated her. It shouldn’t have been possible; a man like him.

  After Justin, she’d wanted everything to be clear and simple, see-through, ultra transparent, no hidden agendas or secrets, or traps. The next man she’d planned to let into her life was supposed to be someone without pretence, without mystery. He’d be definable, mappable, trackable, uncomplicated and honest. A school teacher or a bank teller, a retail manager or a fireman. This simple, undemanding, predictable man would be the one who’d stand by her and take her side. Who’d never question her motives or challenge her. Who’d never try to tell her what she wanted to do or feel. Who’d never, ever try to manipulate her.

  That was the man who was supposed to get her over Justin and help her build a safe and loving life.

  He wouldn’t be a man who made his living pretending to be someone else.

  This thing she felt for Sean, it was a wicked little fantasy, an escape. How could it be anything else given where it’d all started, given its foundation of lies and deceit, fear and exploitation on both their parts?

  Still, this man, the complicated, changeable, dangerous one who was ordering their food, choosing what he already knew she’d like, was the one she’d chosen to help her re-engage with the world. To rip the bandaid off.

  She watched him consult the waiter about the wine and she knew her choice was inspired. This thing between them had ‘beware: temporary construction’ written all over it and decorated with strobing orange lights. They’d both walk away having had a little edgy fun, having used each other to feel better. There was nothing wrong with that. She could hardly wait.

  The food was good, delivered quickly, steaming and fragrant. The movie was an action flick, dark and moody with stirring music and a hysterical heroine. That’s all Cait knew about it because it was impossible to pay attention when the only thing Sean wanted to do was make out.

  He’d sat beside her in the dark while the previews ran and she’d watched his profile in the shifting dimness. She couldn’t get enough of looking at him now that she felt entitled to. When the movie started and he squeezed her knee then came at her with slow, intense kisses, she didn’t protest. She liked it. Even when she lost the pins she’d used to put her hair up. Even when the bloke behind them said, “Get a room,” and they hastily, laughingly changed seats, moving to the end of the row, so they were less conspicuous.

  He played with the top of her zipper, edging it down, pulling it up, edging it down again and putting his hand through the gap in the fabric to touch her back, to play with the elastic of her bra strap. She held her breath every time he ran a finger underneath it, least he snap the catch. He knew it, he loved it, his kisses lost fullness as he smiled on her lips and he did it over and over again to feel her reaction. He sucked on her neck till she pulled away and warned him not to leave a mark.

  It was probably too late. Much more of this and there wouldn’t be any of her he hadn’t marked, like it was his territory. He put his hand up her dress till his fingers were wrapped around her thigh. He made her want to spread her legs and moan aloud. She might have but the dress was too tight and there were kids in the theatre, families. This was shameful and so, so hot. She was wet and squirming to get closer to him, to get away from him, to make him come after her.

  Whatever movie they’d seen it was surely only twenty minutes long. The lights came on far too soon, hurting her eyes. He sat sprawled in his seat, his arm thrown over the back of hers, playing with her hair. He had a smug cat who got the cream expression on his face she so wanted to wipe off, kiss off.

  They waited until the last of the movie patrons had filed out and as the cleaning crew came in to sweep up spilled popcorn and empty chip packets, he pulled her upright, out of the row of seats and backed her into a wall, where he kissed her deeply, wetly, hands holding her hips, pinning them to his.

  She should’ve been embarrassed to see a gap-mouthed kid with a broom and pan set staring at them. He’d probably never seen anyone old enough to have a driver’s licence necking. But she felt like she’d just learned the secret of what made the universe tick and all the answers were revealed in the heat of Sean’s lips and the tracery of his tongue in her mouth. She didn’t care who stared or what they thought of her. She wanted more secrets unfurled, she wanted less clothing and more skin. She wanted her nostrils teased with the smell of him. Her hands empowered with the strength and softness of him, and her head lost to the sensations he could make thrum through her body. He could make her forget, forgive, foreclose on what she’d done to get here and help her start again scoured fresh and new.

  Their progress back to the car was interrupted by frequent stops for sightseeing. But who knew what the streets looked like. They only had eyes for each other. Now Caitlyn was bolder: brushing past him, bumping his shoulder, moving behind him to mould herself against him, hands over the curve of his backside and around his waist to tug at his belt.

  Outside the post office, she undid a
few more buttons on his shirt, putting her lips to his collarbone, sucking at the hollow of his throat. His hand was in her hair, holding her in place, or she might have stumbled, drunk on him, intoxicated with the knowledge this was the most intense bout of foreplay she’d ever experienced and if it was any indication of what was to come next she’d be lucky to be able to stand up tomorrow.

  At the car he did the door opening and buckle up thing again and it was all she could do not to pull him in on top of her. He looked bewildered and that was even more inspiring.

  It was only a five minute drive to the motel. Sean took the last empty car spot and something about the way he reversed into it, one handed, eyes up to the rear view was enough to make her belly tighten with want.

  “You’re room or mine?”

  He cut the engine and looked across at her. “It’s been a great night.”

  “It’s not over.”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  No way. He’d be made of alien substances if he could leave her after what they’d spent the night doing. She’d had her hands all over him; he wasn’t supernatural, he was all man.

  “Walk me to my room.” Which was cute, since it was about two car lengths away, and she could probably spit on the front door from where they were.

  He got out and came around to her door and opened it. He gave her his hand and helped her out. Then he closed the door and engaged the locks, putting the keys in her other hand.

  Outside her door, she turned to him. “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?” And me. She leant back against the wall and did to him what he’d done to her when they started the night. Let her eyes travel the length of him, from his booted feet planted wide apart to his clever mouth, twisted in a wry smile. Resisting her? He didn’t stand a chance.

  “Cait, if I come in, I’ll undo all the good.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “If I come in, I’m staying.”

  She bit her lip, brought a hand to her chest, damsel in distress style. “Damn, you discovered my fiendish plan.”

  “I’m not coming in.”

  She said, “Liar,” and gasped as he advanced on her.

  He spun her to face the rough blond brick wall, plastering his body against her back. “Don’t push your luck.”

  She pushed her backside into his groin instead, and he groaned in her ear. He moved the hair away from her neck and licked her. Then he put his fingers to the pulley of her zip and eased it down, down, all the way to her waist until her back was bared to him. The night air and the hot man made her skin shiver into millions of tiny goose bumps. He kissed a line down her spine and she clung to the bricks, chipping Prime Passion Red by Revlon from her nails.

  “Go inside, Cait. He was almost hoarse with the effort of speaking. “I’m taking you on a picnic tomorrow. “Be ready at eleven.”

  What came out of her mouth was more whimper than words. “Oh please.”

  “Soon,” he said. “You’ll get what you want soon.”

  A gasp. “Don’t you want it too?”

  Both of his hands were under her dress, one to her breast, one inside the lace edge of her underwear. Her dress was off one shoulder and his face was buried there, his teeth scraping her skin. All the rooms in the motel opened into this central courtyard, any of the guests coming or going from their room could see them under the soft amber night-lights.

  She could not catch her breath. She could barely support her own weight. He pulled away, her skin suddenly cold where his arms and hands had been. He eased her zipper up and the goose flesh spread over her whole body again.

  He spoke low and husky in her ear. “Goodnight, Cait. Sleep well.”

  He left her grasping the brickwork like a limpet clinging to the rocks after the tide pulled out.

  25: Temptation

  Caitlyn wore a pair of knee length cargo shorts, a t-shirt that fitted smooth against her form, a ponytail and a scowl. She stood in the doorway of her room, facing him down.

  “I had to go shopping again.”

  Sean laughed. The hours between one, when he’d left her, and eleven when he came to collect her again had dragged. He’d had trouble sleeping. As if he hadn’t known that would happen. Taking matters into his own hands made it worse not better. And cold showers—that was just plain sadistic.

  She had her hands jammed in the pockets of her new shorts and her lips were a terse line. “I’m not sure I want to go anywhere with you today. I can’t believe you left me last night.”

  “I told you, three dates. I want us to trust each other. How would that work if I abandoned my promise at the first temptation?”

  Her expression softened a little on the word ‘temptation’, like putty warmed in your hands. Her lips shaped a half smile. Did she think he’d been toying with her again? Ah shit. He stepped through the doorway and put his hands around her face. He kissed her with all the held back frustration of the night spent alone, and she kissed him back with forgiveness and wicked indications of what was to come.

  Her eyes were closed. He brushed his thumbs over her brows. “Is that better, Tiger?”

  She opened one eye. “If you don’t call me, Tiger.” She swiped his butt and then stepped around him. “Well if we have to go, let’s go.”

  He went to pull the door closed and noticed she’d left the car keys on the console. Left them for him. He caught them up and met her outside. She was eyeing the basket, his work of the morning, a picnic lunch. If the smile she gave him was any indication of her approval he’d made it past the ranks of suspicion and into the hallowed halls of appreciation.

  When he put her in the car and told her to buckle up, she got straight back out and kissed him across the top of the door. Whoa. Leaving her last night had been hard, if she was going to do stuff like that for no good reason it was going to be a very long day.

  He put the Bernard Fanning album he liked on the stereo and headed out. Bernard sang Songbird. There was a lyric about letting somebody love you just enough. It was a good line. In two hours they’d be through the towns of Quorn and Hawker and in the Flinders Rangers. He planned to stop and picnic at Wilpena Pound. What he wouldn’t have given for the Statesman to be a four-wheel drive so they could leave the bitumen.

  “It’s like another world,” she said, awe in her voice, when the port area gave way to a landscape that looked untouched by human habitation. Saw-toothed rock formations, lush gorges, dusty colours and endless blue sky streaked with torn tissue clouds.

  He kept sneaking looks at her. Now Thirsty Merc sang about everything being all right in the summertime. It struck him that if he’d let her drive he could’ve studied her without her objecting too much. If he asked her questions, she might answer them straight up.

  “If you aren’t scared of Justin, why all the hiding, Cait?”

  She sighed and dragged her gaze back inside the car. “I just wanted to get away from the world for a while. I felt so stupid for letting him deceive me so easily and for so long.”

  “How did he get your new phone number? It was him calling you, yes?”

  She pulled at the seatbelt, but it was the question that irritated her. “I don’t know.”

  “It concerns me.”

  She looked across and their eyes fixed for a moment before he turned back to the road and the soaring scene of prehistoric ranges in front of them. She’d told the truth, so that was something and she hadn’t tried to fend him off. “If he harasses you again, we’ll do something about it.”

  “We.”

  He smiled because she’d said it with a light laugh, as though the novelty of it appealed. Pete Murray sang Always a Winner. Sean glanced across. She had one shoeless foot up on the seat, hugging her knee to her chest. She looked young and carefree, watching the scenery go by, wildly different from the cool professional who’d been so guarded.

  He congratulated himself for the dating strategy. If he’d slept with her the night she’d come to him, or even last night, they’d be differen
t together. They’d be all about the sex. He wanted the sex. God he wanted it. But not for its own sake. He wanted it as part of something bigger.

  He was ready for something bigger. Despite the lack of sleep, this morning he’d woken for the first time since Stud pulled the plug without the jet lag feeling of not quite being in his own body. This morning he woke as Sean Kennedy. A cop on leave after a long term undercover assignment who was looking forward to seeing his family again and being cursed up close and personal by his mum. When he shaved he didn’t see Fetch’s furtive watchful eyes looking back at him. It felt good. It felt like the natural order of his life restored. It felt right.

  What did he want from the woman beside him? More than her body. More than the fun of rubbing his intellect against hers. He wanted her heart. He’d known that for days. Of the two of them he was the romantic, the sucker, and the fool.

  Wilpena Pound was a huge rock amphitheatre. Steep cliffs on the outside, a basin on the inside like a giant dormant volcano, though it was the weathered remains of what must once have been a massive rock dome. It was history and majesty. It made them both quiet, soaking it in its magnitude.

  The picnic lunch went down well. It earned him a cuddle and a bout of kissing that made him want to check into a local hotel for the rest of the afternoon and evening. But that wasn’t the plan. Though in the face of her new honesty and the falling away of her defensiveness, the plan was starting to look overcooked.

  “He was a dickhead, your bloke.” She lay in his arms on the picnic rug, in the shade of a giant native tree.

  “He didn’t start out that way. His family had money. He had a privileged childhood. But when we were at uni his father lost it all on some deal gone sour. Justin found it difficult to go from having his choice of cars to drive to getting the train. His dad committed suicide the year we graduated.”