Save the Last Dance (33 page)

Later
seemed as if it would never happen. Alice found herself at the beck and call of all sorts of people for the next half an hour. The bar was running out of ice, someone had twisted their ankle trying to foxtrot and needed the first-aid kit, the clothes sold at the auction needed to be hung properly and labeled, so they could be claimed by the right owner. As organiser of the evening Alice had to deal with all of these things, and although she managed to delegate, something else often popped up to suck away her time.

The large, square white-faced clock above the main entrance to the atrium showed that it was twenty to twelve, and she hadn't been able to find Cameron anywhere since she'd dealt with her latest emergency. Alice had the horrible feeling that if she didn't find him tonight that warm smile for her would disappear from his eyes and never come again.

All around her people were dancing. Some twirled expertly, like Fred and Ginger, some merely held onto each other and attempted to match the beat of the music. Alice's brisk walk slowed as she took in the sights and sounds around her.

She watched as a couple near her swayed. They were so taken up with each other that they weren't even really dancing any more. They weren't moving in time with the music, just moving in time with one another. His hand held her firmly round her waist; one of her hands was cupped at the back of his neck, claiming him. Their free hands were knotted together and laid against his chest, and they were just staring into each other's eyes. After a few moments, he kissed her nose. She sighed and rested her forehead against his and they shuffled away.

One dance, thought Alice. That's all I want. Once dance.

Surely that can't be too much to ask for—not after all the hard work I've put in?

As if on cue, she saw him. The undulating sea of dancing couples parted long enough for her to catch a glimpse of Cameron. He was dancing with someone. Slowly. Gently.

Her heart stopped.

But then he turned his partner and her pulse kicked into life again. It was an older lady he was with, her silver hair festooned with a long black feather tucked into a twenties headband, and Cameron was smiling indulgently at her.

Once again Alice made her way towards him, picking up speed now, but just before she was close enough for him to hear her call his name the blonde materialised, cutting in and leaving the older woman to smile politely and then look daggers at her back as she steered Cameron away.

But Cameron looked up over the blonde's shoulder and his eyes locked onto Alice's. He gave her the barest of smiles—one that said
Sorry. I'll be with you soon…

Alice exhaled as he disappeared out of sight again. The warmth had been there—the smile—and she knew without a doubt that when the song ended he would make his excuses and come and find her.

Suddenly, for the first time in her life, Alice had the burning urge to go and check her lipstick.

Being quite familiar with the ground floor layout by now, she knew that a ladies' room was just outside the side door nearby—one that other people might not know about. It would be cool and quiet, and she could check her make-up and gather herself together before Cameron found her. She slipped out through the door and hurried down a short corridor.

When she actually got in front of a mirror, she realised that she couldn't have done anything about a lipstick disaster
anyway. The little tube of deep berry-red Coreen had lent her was in her bag. And her bag was in Cameron's office. But it turned out she needn't have worried. The lipstick had lived up to the advertising campaign and was still virtually tattooed on. By the looks of it she'd still be trying to scrub it off next Tues—

The door creaked and Alice instinctively straightened. It seemed a bit vain to be caught nose to mirror, examining her reflection. She ran her fingers through the long wave of bright hair that half covered her face before glancing in the direction of the person—the woman—now hovering just beyond her field of peripheral vision.

Oh. It was
her
.

She turned to leave, not really wanting to share a confined space with the blonde—Cameron's blonde—but found her blocking the exit, one hand on a curvaceous hip. The other woman looked her up and down, the tiniest of sneers twitching her lips into an ugly shape.

‘Excuse me,' Alice said, and moved to pass her.

But Blondie didn't budge. She licked her glossy lips and gave Alice a slow, predatory smile. ‘I think we need to have a chat, darling.'

Dah-ling
. On her lips, the word sounded positively vicious, despite the fact that her voice matched her appearance—cool, cultured. Expensive. Alice felt her hackles rise, but she wasn't about to give this woman the advantage by letting her irritation show.

‘A chat about…? And who are you, anyway?'

She laughed—a soft, husky sound. ‘Oh, I think you know the subject we both have in common. And I'm
Jessica
.' She raised her eyebrows, clearly waiting for a response.

Alice didn't have one to give her. She had no idea who
Jessica
was—other than that she'd been wrapped around—

‘Jessica Fernly-Jones,' she added, as if it should mean something.

Alice just stared back at her, and waited for her to get whatever it was she wanted to say off her ample chest.

‘Cameron and I…we've been seeing each other for months. We're very…
close
, if you know what I mean?'

Alice's stomach began to churn, but she pulled her abdominal muscles in tight. ‘And what has this got to do with me?'

That laugh again. It probably drove men wild, but it was as soothing to Alice as nails down a blackboard.

‘Now, now. Don't be coy with me, darling. We're both women…' Her gaze fluttered down to Alice's chest and back up again. ‘We can be frank with one another.'

Jessica Fernly-Jones could be as frank as she liked. It didn't mean Alice would return the favour.

‘He's a very attractive man, as I'm sure you've noticed…'

Alice flushed, then a rush of anger at her own involuntary response compounded the problem. Jessica gave her a long, knowing look.

‘He uses it to his advantage, you know—to get what he wants. Whether that be sealing a deal, crushing his competitors…' a split-second glance in the direction of the atrium was all it took to add a little venom to her next words ‘…to see a project finished to his high standards. But he never gets involved. He always moves on, looking for that elusive perfect woman. You
do
know that, don't you?'

Alice forced her lungs to expand, even though her rib cage felt horribly tight. The action helped her keep a lid on her anger.

Jessica gave her a look of mock-sympathy. ‘Oh, poor girl…'

Girl? From the looks of it Miss Fernly-Jones was only a year or so older than she was. That was it. She wasn't listening to any more of this.

She could hardly believe that Cameron could get involved with someone like this. But she knew just from the body language she'd witnessed on the dance floor that Jessica was telling the truth—she had a history with Cameron. Whether it was anything more than ancient history remained to be seen.

Once Dawn from the market had learned who Coreen's Closet was working with, she'd tried to inveigle her way into the project by being useful. She'd sent Alice e-mail after e-mail with information about Cameron she'd found on the internet. There'd been articles from the business pages, but also snippets from the gossip columns—and in every entry he was pictured with a different woman, each one more stunning than the last. That was obviously what appealed to him, and even in her current state of fancy dress Alice knew she just didn't qualify. Cameron liked eye-candy.

She didn't want to believe he was that shallow, but she couldn't ignore it. He was driven, but damaged. After his revelations the other night, she knew that he was capable of all the things Jessica had just accused him of—but she understood why. How pathetic was it that the knowledge just made her ache for him more, made her want to soothe his pain? Why couldn't she just harden herself and walk away?

Jessica had been watching her face, and now a look of self-satisfaction spread a smile across her lips.

Alice pulled herself tall. ‘Well, thanks for the tip, Jessica. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be on my way…'

This time Jessica shifted position to let her pass, and Alice celebrated a very minor victory in these horrible few moments of her life. She hadn't let Jessica win. The woman had thrown all her ammunition at her and she hadn't let Jessica Fernly-Jones see her crumble. Alice felt Jessica's eyes drilling
holes into her back as she headed for the door. Her fingers had just closed round the handle when Jessica released her parting shot.

‘It's a beautiful dress.'

Alice just pulled the door open. This conversation was over.

‘I'm looking forward to wearing it.'

Just go. Don't react. Walk away.

The tug of curiosity was too strong—like the morbid fascination that caused drivers to slow down and rubberneck on a motorway when there'd been a pile-up, even though they knew what they saw might disturb them. She looked over her shoulder. Jessica was walking towards her, her mask of civility discarded, half hanging off.

‘That's right, darling. He bought it for
me
. Didn't you see me sitting next to him, egging him on?'

Alice gasped. At the time she'd been too busy looking at Cameron and running the auction to process the other details her eyes had been sending to her brain, but now the information arrived, breathless and apologising for its lateness.

Jessica with her hand on Cameron's forearm. Jessica whispering into Cameron's ear…

Jessica ran a hand carelessly through her platinum waves. ‘Cam's always said he likes me in green.' Her eyes narrowed as she came to stand virtually nose to nose with Alice. ‘Or should I say he likes it so much he prefers to see me
out
of it?'

Alice felt sick. She didn't know what kind of game this woman was playing, but even the thought of her naked with Cameron turned her stomach to ice. And she couldn't even dismiss the images rushing through her brain as nonsense, because at some point recently they probably had been reality. She yanked the door open and left Jessica standing alone in the ladies'.

There was only one way she could respond to all of this information. Alice did what she did best.

Alice ran.

T
HE
cold air hit her hard. The heavy glazed door swung closed behind her and she dragged in a breath and folded her arms around herself, trying to rub flat the goosebumps that appeared instantly on her upper arms. The imposing building towered above her, the lines of the giant sunburst above the door harsh and foreboding in the floodlights.

Blast. Her coat. It was upstairs in Cameron's office.

Even though it was bitterly cold she wouldn't have thought twice about leaving it there, but it wasn't just her coat she needed. Her bag was up there too, and without it she had no phone to call a cab, let alone the means to pay for it.

She sighed and headed back indoors. At least she wouldn't have to pass through the atrium to get her things. She could just nip up the winding stairs and be out again before anyone saw her. Not that anybody was likely to be looking for her but Coreen, and the last Alice had seen of her she'd been chatting up one of the saxophone players on his break.

It seemed to take for ever to clomp up the three flights of stairs in her shoes, her Lucite heels announcing her presence to anyone who cared to listen. So much for ‘nipping' anywhere. But there was no other noise in the echoing stairwell. She was pretty sure she was alone.

Finally her telltale shoes were silenced by the thick dark carpet of Cameron's office. Alice realised from the soft glow coming from the open doorway that, although she'd turned the office lights off when they'd left earlier, she'd forgotten the one in the dressing room. Not wanting to announce her presence in the office to all the partygoers in the atrium, who would be able to see the light in the windows if they looked up, she decided not to hit the main switch. She only needed to find her bag, and her eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark already. The light from the dressing room would be enough.

Now, where had she left it?

Oh, yes…by that funny-looking chair with the chrome frame and wide leather straps. It looked very stylish, but it had to be the most uncomfortable thing she'd ever sat on. Obviously Cameron didn't want any of his visitors getting too relaxed.

Cameron.

Just the thought of him made her sigh.

She shook her head and went in search of her bag. But it wasn't on the chair. Where had it gone? Alice squinted in the dark and thought she made out a shape on the floor. It must have dropped through the leather straps. She crouched down and reached for the dark lump. Her fingers met velvet, and she picked up the slightly tired clutch bag. She was just straightening her legs when she heard a door graze the carpet.

Someone was coming. Please let it be Coreen. Please don't let it be…

The world started to spin faster and faster. He was silhouetted in the doorway by the bright lights of the hallway, and then he stepped into the shadows and the door swung closed behind him.

Even though purple blobs were filling her vision, multiple
imprints of Cameron's outline in negative, she knew he was looking at her.

‘You can't leave yet, Alice.'

What was it Jessica had said? Oh, she couldn't remember the exact words, but the truth had hit home, and the squeeze of her heart at the thought brought the stinging sentiment behind them rushing back. Something about Cameron being very charming when he needed to be—when he wanted something from you.

The ball was almost over. What on earth did he need from her now? Couldn't he just let her go before she made a fool of herself? She hugged her bag to her midriff. Her heart and her head were telling her completely different stories, and she needed time to work out which one was fibbing.

‘I—I have to.'

I must.

She had to leave now, before he guessed. Before he took pity on her.

Cameron stepped forward. ‘No.'

Such a firm word, in such a firm voice, but with such an undercurrent of gentleness. His voice had always affected her, and now it called tears forth from her eyes. Let him be gruff, let him be impatient and bossy. Please, please, don't let him be kind.

He started to walk towards her, and Alice wanted to scurry away and grab her coat, but she stayed rooted to the spot. It was as if he was holding her there just by the sheer weight of his stare.

She broke eye contact.

That was better. Shakily, she started in the direction of the dressing room, where her coat was hanging. She'd be fine as long as she focussed on the little diamanté buckles on her shoes, if she didn't look him in the eye.

‘Alice.'

A soft command.

He reached for her. His fingers brushed the bare skin of her arm, and it was as effective at stopping her in her tracks as a rugby tackle. Her chest rose and fell as she concentrated on each little rhinestone on her buckles in turn. But it couldn't shut out the awareness of him, of how he was circling her, how he'd come to stand in front of her.

‘Don't leave. Not yet.'

She made her first fatal error. But with fatal errors one was all that was needed. She looked up at him. His eyes were dark, holding a riddle.

He took the bag from her hands and dropped it on the desk.

‘Come.'

Cameron's voice was low and soft. When he got assertive it reminded her of the big crackling flames of a log fire, but right now it was more like the little tiny flickering ones. They were the dangerous flames. Their little licks fairly
seduced
the logs into ash.

He didn't take hold of her hand, but she followed him as if he had, tugged along by him as he led her to the balcony. They ended up at the railing, staring down at the party still in progress below them.

‘Look,' he said.

And she did look. From up here, suspended above the dance floor, the view was magical. The lights…The colours…Gold and silver, red and purple, turquoise…jade. All those beautiful ballgowns set against the stark black of hundreds of dinner jackets, all spinning and turning. It almost seemed as if it wasn't just individual couples moving, but that every person, every pair, moved in harmony, creating shifting kaleidoscopic patterns on the wonderful mosaic marble floor.

She'd been so frantically busy tonight, so caught up with a thousand little details that she'd forgotten to step back and look at what she'd managed to achieve. The atrium looked amazing—everything she'd pictured when she'd scribbled all those notes and made all those phone calls had come to life. It was real—happening. As if she'd conjured it up by dreaming it.

She'd done it.

The evening was a success.

The soft sounds of the big band—saxophones, lazy trombones and the husky voice of the singer—floated up above the heads of the guests and drifted into the great glass roof, from where they echoed back again, just enough to make the sound seem distant, other-worldly.

‘I asked you for “distinctive”. You gave me more than that.
Much
more than that.'

Ah, that was what this was. A thank-you speech. Well done, little Alice. Big pat on the back. You finally did something that made people sit up and take notice. Good luck for the future. See you again some time…

But if that was all this was, why was his mere presence having such an intoxicating effect on her? Why was her heart pounding, her breath coming in shallow gasps? And why had his hand covered hers, his thumb now circling the back of her hand?

‘I haven't seen you dance once this evening. Will you dance with
me
, Alice?'

This couldn't be real. It had to be something to do with this evening, this strange sense of…
fairy tale
…that just refused to leave her alone. But she let him pull her to him, too weak-willed to walk away. Too weak-willed to run this time.

Didn't he know why she hadn't danced all evening?

It had to be him. No one else. And all evening he'd been so distant, always just beyond her fingertips and out of reach.

He's still out of reach
, she told herself.
Don't kid yourself that just because his arm is around your waist, pulling you close, because his chin is only inches from your forehead, because you can smell the fresh cotton of his shirt mixed with aftershave, that he will ever be truly yours. This is just now. This is just for tonight.

I won't be a fool, she told herself back. I won't forget. But I'm not stupid enough to rob myself of this memory either.

He'd been wrong when he'd listed all the things she'd given him. She'd given him
everything
. More than just a great party, a good idea, value for money. He had her heart, her soul, her very last breath.

The band started to play ‘The Very Thought of You', and gently, almost so she didn't notice, he began to lead her, dance with her, moving with his signature efficient grace. Her heart was reaching out for him with a persistence that became a bittersweet ache. It was too late now. She might have been able to walk away with her pride intact if he hadn't come up here, if he hadn't offered her a taste of what life might be like if fairy tales happened every day.

She'd fallen in love with him. Just like that. Even though her brain told her it was all a spell woven by the magic of the night—magic she'd manufactured herself.

Thank goodness he wasn't ostentatious with his dance moves—dipping her, twirling her out and in again. Thank goodness he kept her pressed close against him, where she could feel his breath in the roots of her hair, where she could stare at his lapel and avoid his gaze.

Maybe it hadn't been
just like that
. Maybe, like Lewis Carroll's Alice, she'd been falling for such a long time she
could hardly remember when the downward journey had begun. All that had happened now was that she'd finally had the shock of hitting the bottom.

She loved Cameron.

She loved his quiet integrity, his single-minded focus. She loved the way he surprised himself sometimes by laughing out loud.

The song changed to something even mellower, and Cameron's circling movements became smaller and smaller—until they were no longer dancing, just holding each other.

It was almost too beautiful to be true up here amid the echoes of love songs, her face now against his shoulder, just the remnant of a sway keeping them from stillness. But it had to end soon. The knowledge settled in her like a stone sinking to the bottom of a pool. He'd pull away, look into her eyes and say goodnight. Goodbye. She was easy to say goodbye to.

But he was kind. He spun the moment out for her, and instead of releasing her his arms came around her completely, and she felt the soft pressure of his lips against her forehead.

She'd wanted a magical memory, but this was almost too intense. It wouldn't warm her in the future when she thought back to it; it wouldn't comfort her. It would burn, leaving her raw for ever, leaving her wanting relief, with none to be had.

‘Alice? Look at me.'

She tasted salt on her lips. Quite how the tears had fallen there she wasn't sure.

‘I…' She didn't get any further, but gulped the words away.

This time he didn't say
no
. His gravity didn't pull her. She knew she could keep her eyes on her feet and run out of there if she wanted to and he wouldn't stop her. After a few moments she tilted her chin up, but kept her gaze fixed on his chest, then slowly she raised her eyes to meet his.

He didn't look hard tonight, all angles and planes. He looked torn, almost sad. There was a softness in his eyes she'd never seen before. That feeling of
connection
hummed between them. It grew and grew until it pounded in her ears—until the only way to drown it out was to lean closer and closer and closer…

The first kiss was nothing more than the merest touching of lips, a promise. There was such purity in it, such sweetness, that Alice forgot all her stern words to herself about holding back. She ran her hands up his arms, around his neck, and dragged Cameron closer. She kissed him as if her life depended on it.

Maybe it did.

She'd never felt this overwhelming need to touch and taste a man before. She couldn't have stopped herself even if she'd tried. And Cameron…

His lips wandered down her neck, across her collarbone. His hands settled around her waist, his fingers brushing against the smooth fabric of her dress, creating a slow, sliding friction that drove her even crazier than she already was.

It had never been like this with anyone else. With Cameron she forgot to plan each move of her hands, her lips. She forgot to think about what she could be doing better, or to worry about not being sexy or experienced enough. With Cameron she just dissolved into the moment, losing her sense of self completely and then finding it again, reflected back to her in each brush of his lips, each caress of his hands.

This man in her arms was always so sure of himself, so sure his every move, every decision was the right one, and to feel him pull her tighter against him, murmur her name, to sense that he was just as lost in this as she was made her soar. Cameron desired her. He wanted her. With an intensity that was so strong it almost scared her.