‘Despite what you’d probably believe, I’m a terrible liar. I’m rarely in a situation where I feel the need to explain myself,’ Ben said truthfully. ‘I can show you my manuscript if you’d like, if that’s what it takes, and I never, ever show anyone my work at this stage of the game.’
‘I’ll think about it.’ She sounded tired, exhausted, as a matter of fact. Ben said as much.
‘I am. Things have been crazy lately. It’s probably a good thing you’ve been busy.’ An ounce of her usual cheer returned to her tone and Ben felt the muscles in his back and arms relax.
He let go of the tentativeness; it didn’t suit him anyway. He was still feeling like a colossal shit, but there was no use dwelling on the negative. ‘If I prostrate myself before you in your barber shop and beg your humble apology, how forgiven does that get me, and more importantly, do I get into your pants?’
Amy let out a shocked burst of laughter. ‘Pretty presumptuous of you, given how hurt my feelings have been lately.’
‘I’ll make up for it later. I promise.’ He tried to inject as much sleazy innuendo into his voice as he could. He really needed to work on the Groucho Marx eyebrow wiggle. He had a feeling she’d appreciate it.
He was rewarded when she sighed. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I believe you.’
‘Wonderful.’
‘But I’ll believe you even more if you cook me dinner. At my place. And sleep overnight with no complaining about Harvey
or
mentioning how much nicer your house is.’ To Ben’s surprise there was a genuine authoritarian edge to her tone he’d not heard before, with the exception of when she was cooking.
‘Your wish is my command.’ He grinned. He hadn’t expected to be let off this easily. Although he had a feeling that, with Amy, things were never as simple as they seemed. He was proven correct by her next words.
‘It better be. While you’re at it, bring a copy of
The Lion King
. I feel like some escapism. I’ve had a horrible few weeks and you haven’t helped.’
‘Do I have to? Oh wait, don’t answer that.’
‘Bye, Ben.’ She hung up.
Ben looked towards the heavens. ‘You really do have it in for me up there, don’t you?’
Chapter 14
Ben was amazed to find himself fighting a pang of anxiety as he pulled into Amy’s driveway. He’d just spent the previous hour trying to find a copy of a Disney movie.
Disney
, for God’s sake. Downloading the damn film wasn’t an option–Amy’s television had probably been made when Churchill was convincing the troops to storm the beaches, so it wouldn’t have any facility to connect to anything but the most basic technology. As it was, Ben had actually been surprised to note she had a DVD player until she’d mentioned that her sister had bought it as a present years before. He had no idea how she’d hooked it up to the tube. Probably through a complex series of adapters that defied all logic.
He knocked on her door and was stunned by the sound of a dog growling. Maybe the mutt had learned to be a good guard dog after all. He reconsidered when he tried the handle, found it unlocked and let himself in, making a mental note to redden Amy’s backside for being so trusting.
‘Hello?’ he called out, looking censoriously at the bulldog dozing in a beanbag to his left. ‘One growl? What was that supposed to do? I’m hardly shaking in my socks.’
The dog just snuffled indignantly and closed his eyes.
‘She would have been better off with a cat.’ Ben stomped through the house calling for Amy with no answer, only to find her in the courtyard out the back. She was watering a motley assortment of potted plants arranged against the mossy bricks of her walled backyard, wearing a white shirtwaist dress dotted with tiny pink roses and a pair of impractical pink heels with pompons on the toes.
Ben thought, not for the first time, that Amy Blaine had been born in the wrong era. With her colouring and style she would have been considered a bombshell in the forties and fifties. Deciding to wait for her to notice him, he held out the ridiculous piece of Disney fluff as a peace offering and waited.
Amy’s mind wouldn’t shut up. It had been a truly horrible day, horrible week, horrible month. If she was the kind of lady to pull her hair out and howl at the moon, she would have done it weeks ago. Mel had finally returned after two weeks of deliberation. Her studious, calm presence served as a daily reminder of just how great Amy’s lapse of judgement had been in keeping Kate on for so long. As much as she knew she’d made the right decision about firing Kate, it hadn’t been easy finding someone to replace her. In the end she’d settled on Ted, a quiet, soft-spoken 24-year-old stylist from Sydney who showed a lot of promise.
In addition to the workplace stress, there’d still been no word from Jo.
Amy had tried calling twice, but the phone had rung out both times. In the end, she’d decided that she’d done all she could and it was now Jo’s turn. Scott was overseas again, so she hadn’t had anyone to talk to about the problem and didn’t want to burden him any more than she already had in any case. Myf would have been her other best option, but Amy hadn’t wanted to interrupt her friend when she knew Myf was madly trying to build up a big enough portfolio to hold a solo show at the end of the year.
Add Ben’s two-week absence to all that and it was an understatement to say she hadn’t exactly been Little Miss Perky of late.
She’d tried to stay optimistic about Ben’s radio silence, but around the one-week mark an all-pervasive hurt had begun to gain momentum. It had mixed insidiously with a dread that hung around her like a dank cloud as she’d waited for Liam to return from his usual stint on the rigs. The nice senior constable from the police station had said they’d visit him soon after he returned, which would be either today or tomorrow. She could only imagine how he’d react.
All in all, if someone were to tell her there was an evil genius planning to blow up the world at any minute, she would have said,
Fine, at least I get a sleep-in tomorrow
.
‘I think they’ve had enough water, don’t you?’ Ben’s voice startled her so much she screamed and spun around, only just managing to not trip over the hose.
‘Ben?’
‘Yes, but it could be your neighbourhood serial killer for all the security you have here. Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you burgled only a few weeks ago?’ His expression was anything but apologetic, despite the brightly coloured DVD clasped in one hand.
‘Yeah but . . .’ Amy began and then shrugged. The hose was still running, leaving a growing puddle of water on the uneven paving at her feet. ‘I forgot and I knew you were coming anyway . . .’ She let the words trail off as a feeling of immense relief washed through her, leaving her knees weak and her hands shaky.
She hadn’t been wrong. Jo hadn’t been right. He hadn’t walked out and left the minute she’d gotten a little bit serious. The DVD in his hand proved it. For a man who completely and utterly hated all things Disney, even revealing to her one night that he’d received legal threats from the massive corporation for parodying their products, she knew he must really care if he’d gotten her one of her favourite comfort movies. And he looked so good. Her tummy flip-flopped. She knew she was being a pushover, she knew she should be grumpier with him but . . .
‘
The Lion King
?’ Her features split into a wide grin.
‘If you ever tell anyone about this, I
will
have to kill you,’ he answered with narrowed eyes.
Amy ignored his words, took two seconds to turn off the hose and then threw herself at him, glorying in the feel of hard muscles and his warm citrus smell. It felt even better when his arms wrapped around her in a tight hug.
‘I take it you missed me,’ he said wryly.
‘Nah. You’re horrible,’ she said into his cream-coloured cricket jersey. ‘I don’t miss horrible boyfriends who don’t call for weeks.’
‘Sorry about that.’
‘You’re not forgiven yet. What are you making me for dinner?’
‘Take-out.’
‘Not good enough.’
‘I brought cake too. From a bakery. A good one. It’s as homemade as I get, I’m afraid.’
‘That’s almost good enough. What flavour?’
Ben pulled back and gave her an incredulous look. ‘Chocolate. What else?’
‘You’re forgiven. For now.’ She grabbed him by the hand and led the way back into the kitchen. She had a feeling he didn’t often apologise, so she’d do her best to make the most of it.
‘Do you have a spare water bottle?’ Ben asked the next morning. He was lying on his back in Amy’s bed and she was curled up next to him, her head nuzzled against his shoulder. Her alarm clock said it was around seven in the morning but neither of them were going anywhere. It was a Sunday after all.
‘You need a drink of water?’ Amy mumbled.
‘No, I need to piss and you have this insane fetish for outdoor toilets.’ Ben growled indignantly when Amy giggled.
‘Tough. Put on your big boy pants and go out there.’
‘Care to hold my hand?’
She gave an outraged squeal when he pulled the covers off her. ‘NO!’
‘I think you do.’ He took the time to tickle her adorably rounded little tummy before bracing himself for the elements and venturing outside.
Amy howled with laughter as Ben let loose with a string of obscenities as his bare feet made contact with the cold, rain-damp paving seconds later.
‘It’s alright for you!’ he snapped indignantly when he returned, standing at the end of the bed wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. ‘You’re used to it. My poor feet are practically blue.’
‘Aww.’ Amy rolled over, stretching like a contented kitten. ‘You don’t look
that
hard done by.’ Her eyes rested on his boxers. ‘Although, I gotta say, your ego’s deflated a bit. Want to come back to bed?’ She yelped when Ben answered her invitation, promptly pulling her warm little body against his cold one, rolling her over until she was completely blanketed by him.
‘Vigorous activity, sweetheart. It’s the only thing that’s going to prevent my hypothermia.’
‘I’ll take the hypothermia!’ Amy shrieked, protesting until he managed to distract her enough with the vigorous activity.
They were still cozied up in bed a while later when Ben’s phone rang and kept ringing.
‘You gonna pick that up?’ Amy asked after the ten-minute mark. She’d already noticed Ben’s habit of ignoring his phone as often as possible, for as long as possible.
‘No.’ Ben nuzzled a naked nipple, then looked around for its twin. ‘I’m otherwise occupied.’
Amy glowered down at him. ‘Want me to answer it?’
‘Hmm? Why not?’ Ben nibbled his way down to her belly button as she twisted sideways and picked up his phone.
‘Hi, Ben isn’t—’
‘It’s about bloody time, you lazy prick!’ A booming voice that was unmistakeably English echoed around the room. ‘
Two fucking weeks
and not a by-your-leave. Anyone would think you don’t love me. I’m out a fucking column for this week thanks to you. I had to put in some tripe you wrote last year about touring in Cardiff.
Wales
, for God’s sake. Bloody awful.’ Amy looked wide-eyed down at Ben, who met her gaze briefly, then went back to ignoring Ross’s rant, preferring to concentrate on her navel instead.
‘Ben?’ she whispered.
‘Give him another few minutes to calm down.’ He inched himself down even further. She was so soft. He really couldn’t get enough of her.
‘Don’t you dare!’ Amy whispered down at him, trying to scrunch her thighs together with a complete lack of success.
‘And where is this fucking book you promised me?’ Ross roared over the phone. ‘You get my reading public fired up and then you fuck off without a trace. I was this close,
this close
, to reporting you missing. If I didn’t know you weren’t more than likely balls-deep in that little blonde barber—’
Ben snatched the phone out of Amy’s hand. ‘Ross, you ass, put a sock in it. The next time you want to insult me, make sure I’m the one on the other end of the phone,’ he snarled. He was still sprawled over Amy’s lower body. She tried to wriggle away but he was bigger and heavier than she was and he’d be damned if she was going anywhere until he could explain his friend’s hideously rude behaviour.
‘Let me up!’ Amy whispered, but he shook his head.
‘What do you mean, make sure you’re on the end of the phone?’ Ross demanded.
‘Ross, in your sweetest, most dulcet tones, I’d like to hear you apologise to Amy for your absolutely atrocious display of bad manners just now. She heard every word.’ Ben spoke calmly, his tone viciously polite.
‘Amy? Who the hell’s Amy?’
‘The lady you’ve just crassly insulted. She answered the phone and didn’t quite catch your good side. It’s rather early in the morning here in Perth and we’re still in bed. If you’d bothered to check your bloody watch, you would have worked that out.’
‘Fuck.’
‘No, Ross. I’m afraid that’s not going to happen now you’ve put your foot in it.’ Ben caught sight of Amy’s shocked, hurt expression and winced, realising he’d now stepped over the line himself. ‘Here she is now. Play nice.’ He held out the phone and when she didn’t take it, held it up to her ear. ‘Start talking, Ross. She’s listening.’
‘Amy, is it?’ The booming voice was gruff and a lot quieter now, but still no doubt loud enough for people walking on the street outside to hear.
‘Yes.’ To Ben, Amy looked like a kicked puppy.
‘I thought you were Ben.’
‘That’s alright.’ Amy spoke quickly. ‘I’ll put you back onto Ben now.’
‘I’m so—’ Ross began, but by then she’d managed to twist herself out from underneath Ben, collect her robe, and leave the room.
Cursing under his breath, Ben moved to the side of the bed and rested his elbows on his knees. ‘You can forget about the rest of the apology. She’s gone.’
‘Oh. Well,’ Ross said in an abashed tone and then recovered true to form. ‘Where the hell have you been?’
‘Writing, you idiot. I had a screenplay to polish and I’ve finished your bloody book. Or the first draft at least.’
‘What? Oh. When do I get to see it?’
‘When it’s edited to my satisfaction.’ Ben stood up and looked around the floor for his discarded jeans, pulling them on with one hand.