It had been an arduous week for Cal, full of teleconferences with contractors in Queensland, review meetings regarding the current live advertising campaigns for the Calypso with the Insight Marketing team, an assortment of necessary phone calls from Hawthorne Incorporated and a number of brief, but very enjoyable, coffee, lunch and dinner breaks which just happened to include his favorite person—Lucy.
Even though he hadn’t been able to eat and chat with Lucy at every opportunity, for the most part, he took every advantage offered to him. Most days, they went to get their morning coffee together at the Pink Leaf, a specialized coffee and tea boutique across the street from the office. The same coffee place Lucy had admitted that she and Trent had visited previously. Although it irked Cal to know that Lucy and Trent had shared a kiss or two in the quaint bohemian café, he took great pride in knowing that Lucy had chosen him to share her future experiences with, rather than his angry, self-involved rival.
Cal had been lucky enough to avoid that prick Trent during his time in the office and had done his best to keep Lucy away from him wherever possible. He’d especially made sure that she’d never made it into Trent’s office as he’d previously asked, to have them continue the conversation he’d started with her in the photocopy room. It unnerved Cal to think about what had happened and what might have happened between them in that room alone together. He’d seen the look on Lucy’s face, noticed how shaken she was by the whole encounter and knew that he would do everything he could to protect her from that sociopathic asshole. Cal just wished she’d let him speak to Julia about the incident and get the dickhead fired, but she claimed that he was good at his job and hadn’t really done anything wrong. It took a lot of effort on his part to let the issue go, but Cal did as she asked and focused, instead, on the thrill of spending more time with her.
As for socializing at lunch time, it had usually been in the busy office lunchroom or the building’s bustling designated cafeteria. While other staff often joined them, including some of Lucy’s friendlier colleagues, there had still been instances when Cal and Lucy had managed to share further quality time alone together, discovering more about each other and who they were now after fourteen years of separation. As Lucy had also requested, Cal had done his best to keep his distance, trying to focus on improving their friendship only. It had been difficult, painful even when he wished desperately to touch her, just to place his hand in hers, but he had survived it.
The few dinners Lucy had allowed Cal to attend had mainly included dining with her close-knit group of girlfriends from the Insight Marketing office. Even though he’d initially felt somewhat intimidated by the experience, fearful that if they didn’t approve of him or his treatment of Lucy, he’d be cast out no matter what price he was willing to pay Julia—or them, Cal had quickly discovered that they were an easy-going bunch and much more accepting than he’d expected. It was a pleasure to realize that they all had a similar sense of humor to him and that their love for Lucy and each other made them a unique sort of family unit, a family of friends to which he could easily see himself becoming a part.
During the week, Cal had joined them twice to eat out, once for Chinese and then Italian. They’d ordered Indian into the office on Wednesday as Steph and Lucy had wanted to stay late to evaluate the audience ratings of the Calypso’s new television ad and tonight, Cal had actually been invited to Steph and Mia’s flat in East Melbourne for homemade pizza and beer.
While Rosie and Mia were in the adjoining lounge room sorting out what music would be best suited to the atmosphere of the evening, Steph was directing Cal and Lucy in the kitchen, getting them to organize plates and cutlery while she adjusted the temperature on the oven. In front of them, on the glossy, stone-flecked top of the kitchen’s central island, an assortment of different pizza toppings had already been prepared. There were plates of pepperoni, salami, prosciutto, and grilled chicken. A number of bowls full of fresh, colorful vegetables, as well as small bunches of basil and rocket, fresh and sundried tomatoes, and black and green olives. Blocks of cheddar and parmesan sat open next to a plate arranged with large balls of mozzarella and bocconcini waiting to be grated and sliced, and lastly, a large glass bowl of what Steph referred to her as famous spicy tomato pizza sauce was placed right in the center.
After handing Lucy a ball of homemade pizza dough from the refrigerator, Steph excused herself to go help the others sort through the extensive music collection.
“If I don’t go check on them,” Steph muttered to Lucy on her way out of the room, “Rosie’s bound to choose the Spice Girls or something even more inappropriate like the soundtrack from Titanic.”
Lucy chuckled and Cal gave her a quizzical look.
“What was that all about?” As the question left his lips, Cal remembered something Steph had said to Rosie about picking music for the masses, not for a nineties school disco.
Lucy shrugged nonchalantly as she unwrapped the plastic that had protected the dough during its stay in the fridge and then plopped it on the flour-covered breadboard in front of them. “Steph’s just concerned for our auditory health.”
Cal’s furrowed brows softened and then he nudged Lucy softly with his shoulder. “I liked the Spice Girls.”
She looked up at him, the corners of her small smile twitching as though in surprise—or challenge. “You liked watching me dance to the Spice Girls. There’s a difference.”
Cal felt his grin widen to become large, white, and toothy. “Is there?” He purposely made his tone innocent.
With a short giggle, Lucy elbowed him playfully in the ribs. “Shut up and help me roll out this dough.”
As he moved even closer to her, pushing up the rolled sleeves of his blue cotton business shirt, Cal felt as though his smile was almost beaming out of him. He’d been thrilled when they’d invited him to dinner, partly because he was keen to get to know Lucy’s friends better and have them approve of him, and partly because Cal had known that he’d get to spend some more time with Lucy.
Even standing so close to her had sent his heart racing and had caused his chest to become tight and full of anticipation and excitement. The smell of her fruity perfume mixed with the sweet lingering scent of her soap and shampoo had made his heart ache with longing and his groin throb with desire. He was doing all he could to control his building erection, but with the warmth of her soft body so close to his and all those luscious curves just a breath away, Cal was really struggling.
It was torture, just as it had been each time they had been alone over the past week. Although his self-control had been substantial at the beginning, each encounter had worn him down just a little more to the point that his instincts were starting to threaten to take over and do whatever they wanted once the perfect opportunity arose. A tiny part of him, possibly the final shred of his sensibility, was beginning to wish for Steph to return in fear that this very moment may be it.
“Are you actually going to help me or are you just going to stand there?” Lucy’s sweet voice brought his attention back into the room.
Realizing that he’d just been staring at the rise of her pert breasts beneath the almost sheer fabric of her rose-pink blouse for heaven-knew how long, Cal quickly flicked his gaze back to the task at hand. Lucy had started trying to roll the pizza dough mound into a flat, circular shape, but the coldness of the dough had made the job a tad harder than normal.
“Here,” Cal said as he gently placed his hands over hers on the ends of the wooden rolling pin.
Making certain he didn’t crush her fingers with the movement, Cal used his strength to push just that little bit harder on the dough, flattening it with each glide of the rolling pin. Once the dough had been sufficiently molded into a rough pizza shape, Cal paused, the utensil in the center. He knew he should release his hold on Lucy’s hands, but it was taking all his willpower to ignore the sensitive position he’d just put himself in. In his swift move to help her, he had become acutely aware of the fact that his body was now flush against hers. Automatically, he’d even slipped one hand beneath her right arm to grasp the furthest end of the rolling pin, something which, in hindsight, was definitely a dangerous idea, since his upper arm was now rubbing against the firm warmth of her right breast and his face was now much too close to hers.
While Cal stared at the flattened dough on the breadboard, trying desperately to steady his breathing and not turn his head to look at her, he felt the quick rise and fall of Lucy’s plump chest squishing against him as she breathed. Her rapid breathing told him that she too, was struggling with their proximity, but that she was doing her best to hide it.
Just the thought of her being as hot for him as he was for her, desiring his touch as he craved hers, was enough to remove the last of Cal’s inhibitions. He had a second to feel the surge of sensation in his groin, to feel the fiery lust rip through him, and then he was on her. His hands were off the rolling pin and on Lucy’s waist, pulling her against him, before either one of them had time for another breath. Instincts rode over the remaining tiny shred of sense that desperately tried to remind him of their current location and that the whole thing wasn’t a good idea. Somewhere in his subconscious, Cal noted Lucy’s surprised expression, but still he lowered his head and captured her mouth with his. He knew his kiss was rough and possessive, full of want and need, but he didn’t care. As Lucy moaned, her body crushed against his, her lips parting, giving in to the demanding stroke of his eager tongue, Cal’s hands slipped down from the security of her waist, caressing her soft form until they wrapped solidly around the plush roundness of her backside.
Cal groaned as he held her against him, his solid erection grinding into her. He felt Lucy’s hands smooth over his shirt-covered skin to grasp at the broad muscles of his back, her sharp fingernails trying to dig into him greedily as though desiring him closer, harder. It was all too much for him. He needed her now. He’d waited patiently for over a week, only sharing the briefest of nonsexual touches, even though he was frantic to have her, longing to be inside her, to have her wrapped around him, to be breathing her into him, his soul claiming hers. He wanted to have her bare flesh in his hands, to feel that velvet skin beneath his fingers. Cal needed her out of those tight, black pants—now!
As his hands moved to slip between them, beginning to force their bodies apart very slightly, Lucy almost yipped in protest—then the music started.
It was the slow, gentle tones of an unfamiliar indie band, but with an enchanting melody and a saccharine drawl of a female singer.
Lucy froze in his arms and Cal’s eyes flew open. He stared into the horrified glint in her bright blue eyes and released her immediately. When her arms dropped limply to her sides, he noticed the telltale signs of their passion in the swelling of her full lips and the flushed pink of her cheeks. He felt his expression harden with concern. What had he done?
“I hope you don’t mind some ambient indie music.” Steph’s footsteps announced her entry into the room. “Mia’s Julia Holter album was the strict compromise over the Christina Aguilera album Rosie had stuffed in her purse.”
As Steph neared the kitchen’s island she paused. It took Cal an unusually long time to drag his gaze from Lucy’s, then turn to face Steph.
“It’s all good,” he said, even though his tone was less than convincing.
Steph’s eyebrows furrowed and she cast a glance at Lucy and then back to Cal. She looked as concerned as he felt inside.
“Did I miss something?” She looked at Lucy again. “You okay, Luce?”
With a deep breath, Lucy spun to face her. Cal noticed the firmness of her belly pressing into the cool stone of the benchtop as though giving her something stable to lean against while her legs appeared unsteady.
Shaking her head, her swollen lips spread to form a small smile. “No. I’m fine.”
Steph looked at her closely. Her astute hazel eyes seemed to take in every aspect of Lucy’s disturbed countenance. After an instant, a grin formed and she glanced back over at Cal.
“You know you should put a sock on the door if you want some privacy,” Steph all but chuckled. “Or better yet, try a room with lockable doors.”
Sighing in utter relief, Cal tried not to laugh himself. “I’ll make sure I’m better prepared next time.”
Steph winked. “You do that.” Then she tilted her head to the side looking first at Cal’s stomach and then at Lucy’s waist. Her grin widened and she pointed her right index finger at both of them. “You might want to get cleaned up while Rosie and Mia are still fiddling around with the CDs. I don’t think they’ll leave you alone if they see those powder marks.”
As Cal glanced down at himself, he noticed Lucy do the same. Light, uneven flour handprints were scattered across each of them. Even though he’d been aware of the flour on the breadboard, the dough, and the rolling pin, when his lust for her had taken over, he hadn’t given it a second thought. His smile was broad as he looked back up at Lucy, but her wide eyes were filled with mortification.
“Don’t worry,” he told her, soothingly. “It’ll brush off.” He reached out to touch her, but she quickly backed away.
“I…I think—” She swallowed quickly and then looked over at Steph. “I’m just going to go to the bathroom to clean up.”
Offering her a curious frown, Steph nodded.
With a final glance at Cal, her contorted brows making her expression appear almost apologetic, Lucy turned to head toward the hallway and left the room.
Turning back to Steph, Cal speedily dusted himself free of the white powdery traces of his romantic interlude with Lucy. He caught a glimpse of the twinge of empathy that flickered across Steph’s concerned expression, before she spoke again.
“Don’t take it to heart, Cal.” Her tone seemed filled with sincere understanding. “It’s obvious Lucy cares about you. She just needs some time to come to terms with that.”
Regretfully, Cal nodded. “I know,” he told her. And he did understand, but that didn’t stop him from wanting things to move faster. He wanted and needed Lucy now and he knew she felt the same. They had already let enough time pass them by and Cal wasn’t about to let her have another fourteen years without him in her life. He couldn’t handle it, wouldn’t survive it. He would just have to find a way to convince her that they should be together and that fighting their connection, the enduring love they had for each other, was pointless.
***
“Did you really?” Cal looked at Lucy incredulously.
He was seated at the head of Steph and Mia’s dining table, adjacent to her, and if he moved his left hand just an inch, it would be covering part of her right. Feeling suddenly too close to him in their cozy corner, Lucy leaned farther back in her chair, removing her hands from the tabletop. She felt her eyebrows knit nervously as she frowned.
“Um, maybe.” Her voice was so quiet that she wondered if anyone actually heard her.
Judging by the abundance of empty beer bottles littering the tabletop, Lucy estimated that it had probably been a couple of hours since they’d finished eating dinner. Plates with scraps and crumbs of their tasty meal still sat before them on the long, gun-metal grey dining room table, while the remainder of the fresh food put on the kitchen’s island for pizza preparation had been plastic wrapped and placed back in the fridge for another day.
At Mia’s suggestion a little while ago, most of the women had removed their shoes in search of further comfort, letting their bare feet stretch and relax against the cool white tiles on the dining room floor. Only Steph and Cal had opted to keep their work shoes in place. Beginning to feel utterly exhausted and preparing herself to face the brunt of Cal’s reaction, Lucy tucked her warm feet beneath her on the chair, pulling herself into more of a protective ball. She suspected Rosie was similarly tired as she seemed dangerously close to a giggle-fit. Though that could have been due to the fact that she was very tipsy—or the fact that it had been her idea to bring up this awkward topic of conversation.
Lucy knew Steph and Mia were watching her closely from where they sat together across the table. A few minutes ago, Mia had moved from her seat next to Rosie, to perch lovingly on Steph’s lap, hugging her around the neck as she cuddled against her. They had been very quiet since Rosie had shared the intimate detail and Lucy had to wonder if that was their way of helping or if they, too, were very weary. She just hoped they weren’t silently laughing at the whole situation.
“Luce?” Cal’s tone was eager, prompting her to tell him the truth she knew he wished to know.
Lucy offered him a timid shrug. “I’d always assumed that Maddy had told you.”
Cal’s blue-grey eyes widened and he let out a scoffing sound in surprise. “That you referred to me as a bome? The bane of your existence? Yeah, she would never have told me that.” He laughed again, a loud, hearty chortle of a sound.
As Rosie giggled along with him, Lucy couldn’t help but feel relieved that Cal was so amused. She’d planned never to tell him, fearing the ensuing shouting that she believed would be bound to follow. Clearly, she’d misjudged him.
“I actually really like the sound of it,” he said as he glanced at Steph and Mia with a huge, white grin.
Lucy followed suit, noting the rocking of Mia’s shoulders as she struggled not to laugh and the smirk of satisfaction that tugged at the corner of Steph’s mouth. Traitors though they were, Lucy was still glad the revelation was a smooth and humorous one. If she had any extra energy—or if she could stop, for just a second, thinking about the passionate kiss Cal and she had shared earlier—then maybe, just maybe she would be able to laugh along as well.
Then Cal’s captivating gaze met hers again and his sexy wink was devilish. “It makes us sound like an old, married couple.” He leaned forward in his chair, moving himself as close to her as he could without leaving his seated position. “In fact, I like it so much, I’m thinking about giving you a nickname too.”
Lucy swallowed nervously—or at least she hoped that unsettling feeling in the bottom of her stomach was nerves. The heat from Cal’s strong body seemed to radiate toward her along with the warm, spicy scent of his skin. She was having trouble focusing, her gaze desperate to drop to his full lips. She’d already noticed the dark blond of the five o’clock shadow that graced his firm, square-shaped jaw. Her fingers itched to stroke it, she needed to touch it, to nibble at that perfect honey skin. The tug of sensation near her stomach dug deeper, lower, and Lucy knew she could no longer blame it on nerves. It was pure desire, raw and hungry.
“What’s that?” she asked, her voice no more than a squeak of sound.
Cal’s expression became even more wicked. “Well, as I’m the quasi-husband in this scenario, I think the most appropriate nickname would be….” He paused, licking his lips as he stared into her eyes. “Wife.”
Lucy froze. Was he serious? She felt like slapping him for using a term that his commitment-phobic, womanizing ways completely derided. Could he be that insensitive? Yet, her heart swelled, and she suddenly wanted to kiss him all over again. Did he mean it? Did Cal think of her like that, as wife-material?
Before her thoughts could derail and mentally accuse him of playing a cruel joke once more, the room erupted in laughter. Lucy dragged her stunned gaze from Cal to glance around the table at her so-called friends. Rosie and Steph were chuckling, their bodies rocking with the erupting sound, while Mia’s expression was bright, excitement filling her eyes as her Cheshire-cat grin beamed.
Lucy found herself smiling as she looked back at Cal. His wide grin in return softened slightly, lovingly and his expression filled with affection. It had been funny after all, and damn clever, she was able to appreciate that. Just because she was silently fighting the urge to steal him away and lock him in her bedroom for a month in the hope of getting all her dirty desires out of her system, didn’t mean that she’d lost her sense of humor. And he’d definitely had every right to tease her, especially after discovering what she’d referred to him as for the last fourteen years. It just bothered her a little bit to know that some part of her had hoped so dearly that he’d meant it, that he could easily think of her as his wife.