A Little Crushed

by Viviane Brentanos

  “You little—”

  “Ralph, what, may I ask, is going on here? Please unhand the young lady. We are not the Mafia.”

  Rebecca stared in amazement. A pair of sharp, grey eyes bore into her, and for a moment, she was back at Thamesford School. Miss Steele had a doppelganger.

  The woman drew herself up to her full height of only five feet. “Excuse our security’s over-zealous dedication to duty, but please understand, we have to be cautious. Now, if you would be so kind as to tell me what you want?”

  “Please, I only want to see Max. I need to see him. Just tell him that I’m here. I…” Rebecca faltered under the eagle stare, but then—oh joy—the woman’s expression softened, and tiny laughter lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes.

  “Miss Harding, I believe. If you would care to follow me. Ralph, that will be all, thank you.”

  More than a little shell-shocked, Rebecca took the offered hand and shook it. ‘Miss Steele’ beckoned her to follow across the endless sea of marble.

  “How did you know my name?” Rebecca scurried at her side. For an old biddy, she certainly kicked up a brisk pace.

  “The hair. Max told me no one else had hair that colour—or as messy.”

  Rebecca didn’t know whether to be angry because he’d described her as messy, or ecstatic because he’d found the time to mention it to this old dear, whoever she was.

  She hurried Rebecca into a lift the size of the spare room at home and pushed the button for—Rebecca peered at the panel—the executive floor. Saliva pooled in her mouth, and for the first time since embarking on Operation Aus, doubt crept over her like an unwelcome rash. What if he flipped his lid? Worse, what if Kate was with him?

  The lift jerked to a halt, and the doors glided open onto a long corridor that seemed to disappear into infinity. Nose almost pressed against her escort’s grey tweed jacket, Rebecca stepped out onto the thick cream carpet, her insides stirring and rolling. The urge to pee was now very real indeed.

  “Come along, please. It’s long past my coffee time, and I do have a hundred and one things to attend to.”

  Resisting the childish urge to stick out her tongue, Rebecca followed her down the long silent shrouded corridor. “I will not pee. I will not pee,” she recited as she tiptoed behind.

  “Did you say something?”

  Rebecca careened into the old woman’s impressive bosom.

  “No…honest.”

  The woman smiled. “Don’t be nervous. He doesn’t bite.”

  No, but he yells pretty well.

  The corridor ended in a huge hexagonal shaped room, the centerpiece of which was another mahogany desk. So much for environmentally friendly working space. On the far wall, Rebecca spied another door. Her gut contracted, and her palms broke into a sweat. He was behind that door, she knew it.

  “Wait here.” ‘Miss Steele’ waved her into an over-sized cream leather sofa.

  Rebecca preferred to remain standing—easier for a quick getaway.

  Amusement written all over her age-lined face, the woman administered a discreet knock to the door and then disappeared, leaving Rebecca alone. The moment of truth had arrived. An eternity passed before the door eased open, and with a slight incline of her head, ‘Miss Steele’ beckoned her in.

  Her legs feeling as if they were encased in lead, Rebecca entered the room.

  “I’ll be at my desk if you want me, Max.” Before closing the door, the woman sent her a conspiratorial wink, as if to say, all is well. Hardly. Rebecca wanted to run and hide.

  Pushing back her tangled hair, she counted to ten and met his gaze full on. He stood, leaning against his desk, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded in the stance she knew so well. The navy suit was businessman efficient. He’d always looked good in dark colours. But some things never change. Rebecca bit back a nervous giggle. Mr. J. was still crap at ties. The one he now wore hung loose under the white unbuttoned shirt collar. Although it was Aussie winter, he still sported remnants of a tan. Her breath caught. She was still in love with him. She’d almost forgotten how handsome he was. He’d lost a bit of weight, but it suited him. The sun-lightened hair now lay close-cropped against his head, accentuating those fabulous features: green eyes that stared at her as if he wasn’t sure if she was real.

  “Well…” He broke the tension first. “At least you’re not wet. That’s something.”

  He didn’t move, devouring her reason with his probing stare until she felt faint. Still she couldn’t speak. Never mind speak, she couldn’t breathe. The old, familiar sensation simmered in the core of her stomach.

  “So.” He straightened up and perched on the edge of his desk. “May I ask what you’re doing here, and please don’t say you just happened to be in the neighbourhood.”

  “I-I…” Oh my goodness, she couldn’t find the words. His indifferent tone tore a huge strip from her bravado. “I came because…because I had to.” Pretty lame, but it was all she had. Looking down at her feet, she squeezed back tears. Not quite the joyous reunion she’d fantasized about for eight long months.

  “Mr. Jack—”

  “I think it’s okay to call me Max, now.”

  “Oh.”

  “Rebecca…”

  The way he spoke her name turned her insides to liquid. He slid off the desk and stepped toward her. Every nerve ending in her body fizzled into life as his fingers curved around her wrists, thumbs tracing delicate circles on her palms, sending a thousand butterflies fluttering around in her heart. He stared into her eyes, his expression soft, caring, and yet, at the same time, unhappy.

  “You’re cold.” He smiled. “You’re always cold—and a mess. No wonder security stopped you. You look like a Romanian refugee. When did you arrive?”

  “The plane landed at six a.m. I think. I came straight here.” Rebecca did her damnedest not to sound like a sulky schoolgirl, but after flying so many miles, being told she was messy wasn’t exactly romantic. “Max…” It still felt strange saying his name. “Are you angry? Because I came?”

  He let go of her hands, his marble expression driving ice shards into her heart.

  “No.” His awkward whisper did little to relieve her despair. “Not angry, only concerned. Why did you come?”

  Her heart shattered into tiny pieces. If he had to ask her, then her journey was for nothing.

  “Okay.” Running his hands through his hair, he let out a heavy sigh. “Why you’re here isn’t important right now. The fact is you are, and you look ready to drop.You must be exhausted. Do you have anywhere to stay?”

  “I have some addresses,” she answered dully, pulling a scrunched piece of paper from her jeans back pocket. “I got this list of hostels from a guy at the airport.”

  Max skewered her with a look which clearly said Are you insane? He took it from her fingers and scanned it, the corners of his mouth turning down into a deep frown. “Okay. Seems good—if you want to become a crack whore, that is.” Screwing up the paper, he lobbed it into a wastepaper basket. “I think you’d better stay here for now.”

  Through blurred vision, Rebecca scanned his office. The green leather Chesterfield probably cost thousands, but it didn’t look very comfortable.

  Wearing the bemused schoolteacher expression of old, he took her by the hand and led her to the door behind the huge desk. “Oh, ye of little faith.” He pushed a lever, and the door slid back to reveal a lift.

  “Wow!” She couldn’t help it. “You are seriously rich. Don’t tell me—penthouse suite on the top floor?”

  For the first time, he seemed to relax. “Something like that. It’s supposed to be the company apartment, but I think its uses for my father were more recreational than business related. It is amazing, the last word in kitsch luxury.” The lift glided to a halt, and he pushed open the gilt cage doors into the outrageously decorated flat.

  “Oh my! This is so Austin Powers.” Awe-struck, she stepped into the retro ‘shag pad.’

  “Yes.” Max winced. “T
aste isn’t quite my father’s forte.”

  “I think it’s great.” Rebecca peered into what she presumed to be the master bedroom. “Where are the mirrors?” She squinted up at the ceiling.

  “I see you haven’t lost that caustic wit with which you tortured me. Anyway, my dear Rebecca, I think you need to rest.”

  He looked pensive, as if he didn’t know what to say to her.

  She looked down at her feet. “I’ll be fine. You’re right. I am tired. I’ll rest a bit, and then I’ll be out of your hair. It’s just I thought…I don’t know what I thought, or what I hoped for.” Grit tears burned, reminding her she hadn’t slept for hours. Disappointment raked at her gut, and she wanted to die. “It’s okay.” Mustering the remaining vestiges of her dignity, she dumped her holdall on the rose brocade sofa. “You go now. You must be busy. I mean, I know you’re a businessman now, so of course you’re busy. I’m sorry about your dad and everything. I hope he’s getting better, and I’m trying not to cry, although I am feeling pretty stupid right now and I—”

  “Rebecca, shut up.” Gentle laughter creased the corner of his eyes.

  “I’m glad you find me so amusing.” She rubbed at her eyes, anger momentarily booting out her misery. “I always knew I should have stuck to hating you.”

  “Rebecca, darling, please don’t cry.”

  “I’m not crying.” Tears spilled unchecked, and she was too exhausted to check them. “What I am is confused. Were you bored? Was I just deluding myself? You can tell me, you know. I’m not a child. I can handle it. But even if you didn’t love me, I thought we were, at least, friends, so why leave like that? Okay, I understand about your father. Mrs. Black explained, but you could at least have told me yourself. I always thought you were many things but never a coward…oh...” Palms on her burning cheeks, she faltered. “You called me darling.”

  “Yes, I did.” Taking hold of the lapels of her coat, he drew her face close to his. Warm lips, as sweet as she remembered, brushed against hers. “My sweet, tough, gorgeous Rebecca, don’t you know how it ripped out my heart leaving you? You have to understand. I felt I had no choice. Do you really want to know why I left the way I did?”

  His cool whisper caressed her senses.

  “You’re all grown up, you say, so here’s a grown up answer. You were not wrong. I had fallen in love with you, Rebecca. It’s as simple as that. I think I first realized it when I took you home after that crazy river stunt you pulled. You were so damn vulnerable then, and I felt as if I’d kill anyone who hurt you. After that, well, I saw how you looked at me, and it thrilled the hell out of me. I was out of my depth. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. That first kiss sealed it, the first touch of your mouth…” He seemed to struggle to breathe. Hands cupped her face, his thumbs stroked a line from her cheeks to her lips. “It was torment; so sweet, so electrifying. I didn’t know what to do. All reason deserted me. And then, I received the call about my father, and the decision was taken out of my hands. At the time, I thought it was providence, some divine power warning me to let you be to live your life. You were so young, college on the horizon. What could I do?”

  “You could have asked me what I wanted.” Rebecca trembled beneath his caress.

  “I knew what you wanted.”

  He kissed her again, a slow, sweet kiss that did nothing to steady her racing pulse.

  “But did you want it, too?” Elated at the emotion registering in his eyes, she grew bold and wrapped her arms around him. “Did you want me?”

  “Yes,” he murmured. “You don’t know how much. I’ve missed you. I still can’t believe you’re here. Look…” He broke free from her arms. “I hate leaving you, especially when I can see you’re upset, but I have to be at the hospital. My father isn’t good. He suffered another massive heart attack two nights ago, and my mother needs me. She isn’t coping very well.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” She felt such a fool. “It must be awful for her—to see her husband lying there.”

  He touched her cheek. “It’s nice of you to be so sympathetic, my sweet, but the only reason my mother is upset is because her precious dogs have been banned from the hospital. I’m afraid my father’s illness is just one big inconvenience for her. My mother gave up caring for my father a long time ago.”

  “That is sad.” Rebecca rubbed at her nose before yawning.

  “Don’t worry about my mother. She’s perfectly happy with her life but enough of the Jackson family saga for now. Go and have a bath and then go to bed. I know it’s tough with jet lag, but at least try and relax.” Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her brow. Not quite the passionate embrace she craved, but it spoke words. “I’ll try to hurry back, and then we’ll talk.”

  He left her feeling alone and vulnerable. No point crying again. She went in search of the bathroom, her aching muscles desperate for a long, hot soak.

  The bathroom was almost as big as the living room back home, the bath a mini-swimming pool. It really was quite vulgar, but as she turned on the gold dolphin head taps and poured in a good measure of what was undoubtedly wickedly expensive bath oil, she decided that, for once, she could cast her principles to one side. She slid into the warm, scented water. Yes, she mused, she could do capitalist decadence if she put her mind to it.

  So, all in all, she felt rather pleased with herself. She was in Sydney, in Max’s house, and he loved her. She’d got it right. Closing her eyes, her imagination ran riot. Guilt set in. With Max’s father lying in hospital so ill, it was hardly the time to be thinking about what she was thinking. Still, with a man like Max, it was rather difficult not to.

  Reluctantly, she stepped out of the bath; she was so tired there was a strong possibility she’d doze off. Wrapped in a bathrobe that would have drowned someone three times her size, she wandered back into the living room—only to stop dead in her tracks. ‘Miss Steele’ was busy laying food out on the kitchen table.

  She turned and smiled. “Sorry for barging in, but Max asked me to look in on you. He said you’d probably be hungry, especially if you flew economy.”

  Recognising the hand of friendship, Rebecca offered a smile in return. “It’s very kind of you.” A wonderful aroma of steamed chicken and vegetables tantalised her nostrils, and her stomach growled in complete agreement with her nose. Max got that right. In-flight meals were not inspiring at the best of times, even at a thousand quid a ticket.

  “My name is Peggy, by the way.”

  Still clutching the robe around her body, Rebecca couldn’t take the offered hand. Self-conscious, she caught Peggy’s appraisal of her.

  “I must say, Max did not exaggerate. You are very, very pretty and so young.”

  “Max told you about me?” Fingers like chipolata sausages, she fumbled with the cord.

  “My dear Rebecca, Max is like a son to me. There’s nothing much he doesn’t share. I know you’ve stolen his heart. Sit.” Peggy pulled out a chair. “The food is getting cold.”

  “How?” Head and heart spinning, Rebecca speared a juicy piece of chicken and popped it into her mouth. It was delicious. Peggy gave her a cheeky wink, and at once, Rebecca realized she was nothing like Miss Steele. Her grey eyes emitted warmth and humor.

  “Because I could read it on his face. When I told him you were waiting outside his office door, it was as if a light switched on, and don’t you dare tell him I said that. Actually, he told me quite a lot about you…how you met and so forth. Interesting but also tragic. I’m sorry for what you went through. Sometimes men can act like savages, but you came through it, and that is what counts.”

  “Yes, I did.” Rebecca gave a rueful nod. “Because of Max. He was my light at the end of a very dark tunnel. But tell me, how is it you know Max so well?”

  Peggy joined her at the table, glass of wine in hand. “I have been with Max’s father since he started up his first newspaper, and no, I am not nor have I ever been his mistress. That’s not to say he didn’t try, but I don’t believe in mixing business
with pleasure, plus I have always had too much respect for Max and his mother.”

  “You make his father sound like quite a…” Rebecca tried for tactful.

  “A lech? Well that is exactly what he was…is, I should say. The old bugger’s not left us yet. But, as fond as I am of my boss, I’m afraid to say he has always been a man of excess. He was a terrible husband and an even worse father. Max is nothing like him, I hasten to add. He is a good man.” Leaning back, she twirled the glass in her hand, studying Rebecca with her mature, watery eyes. “Max is like a son to me, Rebecca, and I’m glad that you are here. But your timing is unfortunate. I doubt, this time, Robert will pull through. Max is going to have to deal with some major changes in his life. He’s only had a small taste of what is to come.

  “Max is the only son and heir. Everything will pass to him. He will be at the helm of the whole kit and caboodle.”

  Rebecca put down her folk, her appetite gone. In her mad rush to get to Max, she hadn’t given much thought to what the future might hold. She certainly had not expected to be thrust in the middle of such a crisis. She pushed her plate away. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling a bit tired. I think I’ll lie down.”

  “But of course.” Peggy stood up and crossed to her side. To Rebecca’s surprise, she kissed her on the cheek. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’m going to anyway. I’m glad Max broke it off with Kate. She isn’t a bad person but just not suited for Max. She would have made his life hell. Now off you go and enjoy your sleep. I’ m sure Max will be back soon. He won’t want to be away from you for too long.”

  Rebecca watched her leave. She liked this Australian version of Miss Steele. She carried her plate into the kitchen and then headed for the bedroom. The huge bed beckoned, but when she slipped between the cold cotton sheets, she shivered, wishing that Max was there to hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Max watched his mother as she sat by his father’s bedside, head bent over the latest Dick Francis. She appeared calm, but then, as she’d said, she’d resolved her feelings for the all-powerful Robert Jackson a long time ago.