The softness of Cal’s warm lips had trailed their way below Lucy’s belly button. Her breath had caught in her throat at the anticipation of knowing that he was working his way lower. Although she was hot and aching for all of him, desperate for him to enter her, fill her and complete her, she no longer had any control over her actions. She was absolute putty in his hands. She wanted him so badly, wanted his hands all over her, needed his lips on her skin.
Lucy needed more of him, she couldn’t get enough, but the material of her dress was in the way. Why had she worn anything to dinner? At this moment, it surely would have made more sense to attend naked—as long as Cal had been naked too.
She licked her lips and felt her thighs press together at the thought of his mouth so close to the part of her that craved his touch the most. Slick and burning for him, Lucy feared she might come at the slightest sensation, the lightest kiss, a delicate stroke.
The slam of a door had her chin slipping off the palm of her hand and toward the top of her desk before she caught herself and opened her eyes.
Steph was staring at her with a look of curious surprise as Lucy struggled to straighten in her chair.
“What?” She knew it sounded defensive.
With an innocent expression, Steph shook her head. “Nothing.”
It was sure to be after nine and Lucy was certain Mia had sent Steph to either offer to include her in their dinner plans or be dragged home with continuous complaints. Everyone else in the office had left hours ago, even Cal, along with Julia, had headed out in the early afternoon to finalize the last of their plans with the approved contractors.
Just as she’d done the last few days, Lucy had hidden in her office all day and when she wasn’t hiding, she was relying on text messages from Steph and Mia to warn her when Cal was coming into the building. Every time Cal was about to enter Insight Marketing, Lucy suddenly needed to go out for coffee—even though it was available in the tearoom—lunch—even though she’d brought her own—and to post some very important mail—even though Joseph was the building’s resident mailman. Since calling in sick the day after her little interlude at the Cardinal Winery with Cal—although she was more heartsick than physically sick—and being repetitively scolded by Julia for her slackness, Lucy had decided to brave work—but with certain conditions. The main one being avoid Cal at all costs.
Although her friends had made things that little bit easier, aiding her escape whenever they could, her relationship with Julia—and Trent for that matter—was definitely becoming strained. Julia, of course, was desperate for Lucy to do everything in her power to keep the rich client happy, while Trent was quieter than usual, even refraining from his beloved obnoxious comments—which was almost scarily out-of-character for him.
“So?” Steph had made her way farther into the room, her black wide-leg slacks swaying as she rounded the desk and then propped herself on the edge of the desktop.
Ignoring the thoughts of concern that plagued her, Lucy narrowed her eyes at her close friend. “So?”
A grin spread across Steph’s lips. “What were you daydreaming about?”
For a split second, Lucy felt her eyes widen as the memory of Cal’s slow, seductive progress down the bare skin of her stomach flared behind her retinas. She shook her head to shake the thought away and then to answer Steph.
“Nothing.” Her tone wasn’t as soft and innocent as she hoped it would be.
Steph watched Lucy closely, her grin more knowing now than teasing. “Whatever you say, Lucy-cakes.”
Lucy frowned. Damn it, she really was a terrible liar.
With a chuckle, Steph glanced down at the mountains of files that covered Lucy’s desk and then back up into Lucy’s firm gaze. “I know this is an important project and that we have a very intimidating deadline, but it is a Saturday and we’ve already worked enough overtime for the week. What do you say you, Mia, and I head out to get some chow?”
A smile tickled the corners of Lucy’s mouth. She’d been right about Steph’s reasons for entering her office.
“And what happens to me if I say no?”
Steph’s eyebrows shot up and she glanced toward the closed glass door at the other side of the room. “Are you crazy?” Her question was poised with limited humor. “Don’t let Mia hear you say that word. She’ll be in here and dragging you out by your hair if she gets just the slightest whisper of a negative response.”
Lucy laughed at the flicker of feigned fear in Steph’s eyes. “Oh, okay. You’ve convinced me,” she told her, conceding far too easily.
Steph pretended to breathe a sigh of relief and then grinned triumphantly. “She really threatened that, you know?”
With a tilt of her head, Lucy began gathering her belongings, putting things needed for home in either her handbag or handy canvas bag. “I don’t doubt it. She’s such a slave driver.”
Nodding in agreement, Steph chuckled. “That’s just one of the many things I love about her.”
Screwing up her face in pretend disgust, Lucy shoved Steph’s shoulder playfully, her fingers pushing against the crisp ivory cotton of her button-down blouse. “Enough of the mushy stuff. I don’t want to ruin my appetite.” Gathering her bags, she pushed Steph around the desk and toward the office door. “Where are we heading for dinner, anyway?”
“Rosie’s.”
That answer had Lucy pausing in her exit. She’d assumed they’d be dropping into a restaurant on the way home, maybe even a fast food joint—geez, even a kebab place. She definitely hadn’t considered that they’d be heading over to Rosie’s at this time of night. This was becoming more obviously a setup by the minute.
“I suppose I don’t get a choice in that either.”
Pleased with herself, Steph shook her head and then rubbed her hands together, looking wickedly eager in her anticipation. “We’re having a girls’ night and there’s no way you’re gonna get out of it.”
***
Steph took a long swig of her beer before being the first of them to verbalize a response to the entire dramatic monologue Lucy had just finished.
“Crap.” It was a long, breathy, drawn-out syllable that spoke volumes.
Lucy thought it suited the whole situation quite nicely. “Pretty much,” she agreed.
They were all gathered around Rosie’s modern, white dining table which had a line of half-empty bowls of different salads, roasted vegetables, and homemade fried chicken down the center, as well as numerous glasses, beer and wine bottles—some empty—and the rest of their own dirty dishes. Everyone except Rosie, who’d managed to go casual since she was the only one at home, was still dressed in their professional work clothes and for that reason, Lucy thought that their girl-chat could’ve easily been mistaken for a dinner meeting had some passerby turned voyeur and glanced through the picture window that led out onto the well-lit street beside them.
“Geez,” Mia began. “Lucy, what—” She shook her head as though gathering her thoughts. “What are you going to do?”
Rosie raked a hand through her blonde curls and breathed out a sigh. “She’s got to stay away from him.”
Mia snorted at that conclusion. “I don’t think he’s going to stay away from her.”
“Are you sure he’s not looking for something deeper?” Steph stared at Lucy, her expression more hopeful than her tone.
Lucy nibbled at her fingernails nervously. “It seemed like it in the moment. I really thought there was something between us, something lasting, but then…it just deteriorated. I think he was just taking advantage of the situation. He probably saw it as a way to complete the collection. Sleep with me and then there’s only Maddy left—and he won’t sleep with her because she’s married.”
“With a reputation like his, don’t be too sure,” Mia snipped.
Lucy covered her face with her hands in mortification. “Oh God, I’m such an idiot.”
“I don’t know.” Steph’s tone was cautious and critical. “I’ve seen the look on his face when he checks your empty office or when we tell him you’ve just popped out of the building. He doesn’t look like someone filled with annoyance or disappointment that they won’t be able to scratch another name off their screw list. He looks devastated, broken—fearful even. I don’t think it’s just about sex for him.”
When Lucy’s hands dropped from her face, she knew that her expression was more hopeful than she wanted it to appear, but the thought that one of her closest friends believed there could be something deeper to Cal’s feelings for her made her heart skip a beat.
Could it be possible? Had she just misunderstood the situation? Was it as difficult for Cal as it was for her to admit his feelings? Everything inside her hoped so, but she couldn’t be certain. After all, Mia was right, Cal’s reputation proved that his love life never revolved around feelings.
As Steph nodded, Mia frowned.
“Lucy,” Mia’s tone held a tinge of wariness, “Maybe Steph is right. I’ve seen the look she’s talking about. He doesn’t look like an asshole. But, unfortunately, that doesn’t mean that he’s not one.”
Rosie chuckled. “With a face like his, how many women would even care?” She lifted her hand sheepishly. “I, for one, would buy a ticket for that ride anytime.”
Mia spat out a laugh and then nodded in agreement as Steph rolled her eyes. “He’s definitely a handsome honey.” Then, as her expression became more serious, she glanced over at Lucy. “He’s the type of man who would have women throwing themselves at him daily.”
Lucy scoffed as the memory of the overzealous waitress at the winery resurfaced. “You’ve got no idea,” she told them.
“Well,” Mia continued her train of thought. “Then why would he need to collect the set of you and your friends if he could have his choice of women, anyway?”
Narrowing her gaze, Lucy considered the question.
“It could be a pride thing.” Rosie shrugged. “Maybe he wants to be able to brag about it?”
Steph grunted her disapproval. “Do you really think he’d care about something so trivial? Chances are, he’s got a few supermodels as ex-lovers, so why wouldn’t he just brag about them?”
Frowning, Rosie offered them all another shrug. “I’ve got nothing.”
Mia stared at Lucy, studying her carefully. “Maybe I’m wrong, Luce. Maybe he does care?”
“Either way,” Steph said, as she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the tabletop, “you aren’t going to figure it out by chatting to us. There’s only one way you can find out if his feelings for you are genuine and that’s by talking to him and getting to know him—the person he is now—much better.”
Lucy made a whining noise low in her throat. She really hated that idea. It was hard enough for her to stop thinking about him when she wasn’t with him, to stop thinking about him touching her, how she felt with his hands on her naked torso, his lips on her skin. How was she ever going to be able to keep her thoughts straight if she was in the same room as him?
Reaching across the table, Lucy placed her hand over Steph’s. “Are you sure you can’t do some snooping for me?”
Steph smirked, but shook her head.
“I will,” Mia piped up excitedly.
“No.” Steph’s tone was almost scolding. “I think this may be something Lucy has to do on her own.”
When Lucy pouted, Mia responded with a quick wink.
Perhaps Lucy wouldn’t be running this gauntlet alone after all.
“That means,” Steph continued, drawing Lucy’s gaze back to hers, “you need to be available.” As Lucy opened her mouth to protest, Steph silenced her with a swift wave of her hand. “And that means you need to be in your office when Cal’s in the building.”
Sighing resignedly, Lucy gave a curt nod in agreement. “Fine.”
With a genial smile, Rosie shrugged. “At least it will get Julia off your back.”
Her eyes wide, Mia nodded exaggeratedly. “Yep. She’s really got it in for you. She keeps telling me she’d love to fire you for putting her through this farce, but she can’t because you’re the best exec she’s got and she knows it.”
“Oi,” Steph whined, as she playfully elbowed Mia softly in the ribs. “Who’s the best executive?”
As Mia rolled her eyes at her girlfriend’s fake grimace, Rosie and Lucy laughed whole-heartedly.
Perhaps, being available to Cal wouldn’t be as painful as Lucy expected? After all, she would be at work, where other people could see her, where Julia was counting on her to do her job and keep the peace—maybe she could keep her mind on task? Maybe she wouldn’t find Cal so alluring in the workplace environment? Maybe, if she kept her distance, they could form a fruitful working relationship together?
And maybe she could stop fantasizing about what happened the other night, about Cal’s lips on hers, his fingers caressing her soft, sensitive skin?
Yeah, fat chance, Lucy thought.
***
Trendy theatergoers milled in and out of the upmarket bar aptly named the Stage Door as the Melbourne Theatre Company next door closed for the night.
“Great show,” exclaimed a grey-haired gentleman in a tailored pinstripe suit and ruby cravat as he clasped his hands affectionately on Toby’s broad shoulders. “Absolutely tremendous.”
Toby nodded in silent appreciation before the man appeared to spot someone at the other end of the bar and then headed deeper into the crowd.
Cal watched as the gentleman met with another cheerful group and they burst into conversation at his appearance.
“Who was that?” Cal asked as he glanced back to Toby, who was perched on the stool beside him at the bar.
Toby’s brown-eyed gaze was still intently watching the joyful group as the older gentleman with the ruby cravat signaled once again in his direction. With a quick wave of acknowledgement, Toby instinctively tugged at the indigo hem of his suit jacket and then smoothed his matching velvet lapels. When the man finally turned his back to them, Toby gave Cal his full attention.
“He’s the chair on the board of shareholders.” He rolled his dark eyes, his thick, black brows rising in fluid motion with the movement and then gave a half-hearted shrug. “Theatre politics. Got to keep the highbrows happy.”
Cal nodded. He understood what that was like. His own board was difficult enough to please in the business arena, he couldn’t imagine having to also socialize with them as Toby often had to.
“So, your mother told my mother that I have to tell you to call her.” Toby’s unimpressed tone made the statement sound even more absurd than it already was.
Cal frowned. “She has a phone. She could always call me.”
Toby shrugged, indifferently.
Shortly after his father’s death, Cal’s mother, Charmaine, moved out of their Melbourne penthouse apartment and back to Adelaide to be closer to her siblings and their families. Although he’d promised to visit as often as he could, Cal had only made it to the inner-city mansion he’d bought for her twice in the past three and a half years. If he was honest with himself, he’d barely called her more than half a dozen times since she’d left as well. Besides the fact that he was always extremely busy looking after Hawthorne Incorporated, Cal also wasn’t a fan of their conversations anymore. He hadn’t settled down, hadn’t married, or had children and that was something his mother just didn’t quite understand. Cal had even tried to explain to her about his feelings for Lucy, but she hadn’t grasped the fact that he couldn’t possibly just find someone else—Lucy was his one and always would be.
After habitually undoing the waist button of his grey suit jacket, Cal made himself more comfortable and leaned his elbows on the clean, dark wood of the bar’s countertop. Although the glass of neat scotch that he twirled slightly in his fingers was helping to calm his nerves a little, it wasn’t exactly doing the trick. He still felt itchy, uneasy, and his legs thrummed with vibration as though he needed to move—but he’d been moving all day.
When he hadn’t been looking for Lucy—as he had every day for the last three days—searching the entire office building for her, Cal had been out, focused on organizing preparation for the structural work that was to be done to the Gold Coast property. He and Julia had finalized the last of the plans for the improvements this afternoon and he had run everything past Paul Gillies, the reliable hotel manager who had been loyal to the Calypso—and the Hawthorne family—for over twenty years. Luckily, his late father had had the foresight to modernize the kitchens, bathrooms, balconies, and the internal elevators a little over ten years ago. Phillip Hawthorne had also been vigilant in ensuring the whole building regularly underwent structural examinations as he always had with all his properties. Cal’s father had never been one to do things half-cocked, it was just one of the many things Cal had admired about him.
As well as refining the front facade of the Calypso, Cal had hired contractors to create a game room where the bar lounge had been, redesign and landscape the pool, revamp the Great Hall, paint the entire premises inside and out, and then clean all glass, including windows and balcony rails. All internal and external furnishings were to be delivered and arranged over the twentieth and twenty-first of April, in just over two weeks.
Cal was expecting a great deal from his team, both the people at Insight Marketing who were about to start shopping around the Calypso’s new advertising campaign to the media and all the exceptional contractors he’d hired at last minutes’ notice. Although he was paying them all double or triple their usual requirements in order to get the job done swiftly—and correctly—he was still impressed that so many people had agreed to his high demands. As of tomorrow, there would be over one hundred and fifty people working on the Gold Coast property at any one time. Cal just prayed everything would go as smoothly as was necessary.
Suddenly, the bouncing of his right knee, the incessant fidgeting of his vibrating limbs freed him from his thoughts. He placed a firm hand on the fabric of his grey dress pants, forcing his knee to calm its rhythm.
“Okay, I’ve just got to ask.” Toby had turned on the bar stool next to him so that he was facing Cal directly. There was a curious, nearly suspicious smile curling his full lips. “You mentioned you finally caught up with Lucy a few days ago. I’m assuming that’s what has got you all twisted up inside?”
Cal stared at Toby and fought to keep the feeling of utter dejection from showing on his face. “More than that actually.”
Eyes widening, Toby’s dark eyebrows rose with excitement. “Oh, really?”
Sighing, Cal finished his scotch and signaled the bartender to serve up another. Cal swore as he remembered the look on Lucy’s face, the tears in her eyes and then the anger and hurt that filled her when she moved to leave the room, to leave him.
The bartender placed another glass of aged scotch whisky in front of him and Cal drank it down like an ordinary tequila shot. As the smooth alcohol burned warmly, enjoyably along the back of his throat, Cal lowered the glass back to the hard, dark wood of the countertop.
“I think I’ve messed up, Toby.” It was said so quietly, Cal wondered if Toby would even understand.
His expression becoming serious, Toby rested a tanned hand supportively on Cal’s strong shoulder. “It can’t be that bad, cuz. You may be a fool when it comes to all things lovey-dovey, but you’re a good guy. Whatever you’ve stuffed up, you can fix it.”
Cal shook his head. “I’m not so sure, Tobe. I really took it too far this time. I’d just found her again, just got my Lucy back and had hoped to win her over slowly, proving to her that I truly care about her, but then I went and screwed everything up. I lost control and threw myself at her.” Cal dropped his face into his hands, his voice becoming even more despondent. “Stripped her.” He shook his head again, his large hands still covering his face. “I don’t think I’m going to get another chance.”
Sighing deeply, his face stricken with pain for his beloved cousin, Toby ran his fingers through his wavy, black hair. “Have you told her that you’re in love with her?” His voice was hoarse, pained as though he was fearing the worst.
Shaking his head once more, Cal lifted his face from his hands and stared at Toby. “How can I? I’m pretty sure she still hates me.”
Toby’s expression narrowed in exasperation and he dropped his hand from Cal’s shoulder. “Well, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have gotten naked with you if she hated you.”
Cal offered Toby a grimace. Who was he kidding? Of course, Lucy could still hate him. Toby hadn’t seen that look in her eyes. The fear, the anger. At the time, Cal had questioned whether or not that had been more for herself than for him, that she was afraid of her own feelings for him, her love for him. But now, after days of continued rejection, getting no more than a polite, but brief email or text message in reply to his own and never once crossing her path in person, yet being told she’d just popped out of the office and would be back soon, Cal was definitely beginning to feel as though he’d lost Lucy for real this time. How could he possibly apologize, how could he possibly win her over if he couldn’t even meet with her in person?
“Cal,” Toby began, his tone composed, but reproachful, “I think you need to talk to Lucy and this time, actually tell her how you feel about her.”
Cal narrowed his eyes. It was all well and good for Toby to tell him what to do, but Toby didn’t know just how difficult a task that was—for many reasons. “How can I tell her that I love her, when she won’t even see me anymore?”
This time it was Toby who frowned. “Aren’t you working together trying to fix up the Calypso?”
Nodding briefly, Cal quirked an eyebrow as though in challenge. “Yep, but for the last three days I haven’t seen hair or luscious hide of her in the office or out of it. She won’t return my calls.” He pulled his smartphone free of his jacket pocket and placed it on the bar counter, pressing the screen a few times before pushing the device closer to Toby. “And all I get in reply are short emails or these kinds of text messages.”
Toby glanced down at the brightly lit screen of the phone. “Thanks for your call,” he read the message aloud. “I’m currently busy working on the Calypso’s ad campaign with the other execs. Please contact Julia if you need something urgently. Lucy.” As he looked back up at Cal and pushed the phone back toward him, Toby breathed in deeply through gritted teeth, making a harsh sound. “Crap, Cal. That’s pretty cold.”
“You’re telling me,” Cal agreed as he closed his eyes in an effort to ignore the clenching ache deep in his chest.
“I still think you should tell her.”
Cal’s gaze flicked back to Toby at his firm instruction. “You can’t be serious?” Feeling himself fill with a burning annoyance, Cal thinned his lips. “How can I tell her when she won’t talk to me, won’t even see me?”
A small, sly smile pulled at the corners of Toby’s mouth. “You don’t give her a choice,” he said flatly.
Cal’s expression contorted in a mixture of anger and confusion. “What?”
Toby smiled cunningly. “If you can’t find her at the office, you can find her at home. Tell her that. I’m willing to bet that she’ll be available in the office from that moment on.”
His expression softening, Cal thought about Toby’s suggestion. Sure, it was a bit underhanded, but so was hiding from him for days. If Lucy could play her own game, then Cal could play his.
Cal’s smoky-blue gaze met Toby’s dark brown eyes. They shared a grin.
“You’re on,” Cal told his cousin.
“Great.” Toby rubbed his hands together victoriously. “I think it’s time we get another round and you fill me in on all the dirty details of your lewd, naked evening with our Lucy.”
Scowling playfully, Cal held his index finger up between them as though pointing out a problem with the last remark. “My Lucy,” he corrected sharply, but impishly. “And don’t you forget that, little cousin.”
Toby laughed heartily. “C’mon,” he teased. “She’s the sister I never had. I deserve a little ownership.”
Cal’s eyes widened at Toby’s response and he chuckled. “You know, she’d likely punch us both if she ever heard us claiming any ownership over her, right?”
“Right,” Toby agreed with a stiff nod as his hand unconsciously moved to rub his right shoulder as though in memory of an old injury. “She did have a wicked right hook when she used to run around playing Wonder Woman.”