Authors: Angela Verdenius
“Smarter than your brain.” Okay,
that was a weak shot, but it was the best she could manage with her heart
thumping and skin crawling.
God, how could she have ever
thought she loved this creep? That she could possibly fall for his charms,
which she now saw as sleazy, his nature she now knew was grasping and greedy?
“If you don’t let go of me, I’ll
call the cops.”
“And make a spectacle of yourself?”
He sneered. “Or maybe of your uncle?”
If she called the cops, Ed would
find out and he’d be after Jonathon. She couldn’t drag him into anything
nasty. A bikie’s word against a suave business man’s wasn’t likely to go
well. No, she wouldn’t call the cops, but Jonathon didn’t need to know that,
so she simply lifted her chin and silently dared him.
In hindsight, it probably wasn’t
the wisest decision.
In a sudden, savage move, he
grabbed a handful of her hair, dislodging the neat bun she’d put it up in for
work. As her hair fell around her shoulders, he twisted his fingers in the
strands to jerk her head back, causing tears to spring to her eyes.
With a gasp of pain, she reached
up to grab his wrist, only to have him grip hers in turn, only his grip was
stronger, harder, and merciless.
All mocking fled, his eyes cold.
“You’ve got something I want, Carly.”
Still she refused to show fear,
even though she felt like falling to her knees and crying like a baby. “I
can’t imagine what that could possibly be. After all, I don’t exactly fit your
type
, do I?”
“You always did have guts. I
liked that about you.”
“Let me go.”
“Not until you give it back.” He
jerked her head back harder, banging her against the car.
“Give what back?” Refusing to buckle
before him, to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cower, she glared
through her tears.
“I went around to the flat but
you’d packed everything up, all neat and tidy, emptied it all. You have it, I
want it.”
“I have nothing of yours. You
didn’t live with me, remember?” She winced as his fingers tightened.
“Hey!” a voice shouted.
Swearing, Jonathon glanced over
his shoulder.
Relief coursed through Carly as
she followed his gaze to see two security guards coming towards them from the
direction of the supermarket.
Turning back to face her, he said
warningly, “You have three days to return it to me, Carly. Three days or I’ll
come looking for you, and next time I won’t be so easy on you.” Releasing her
hair, he grabbed the nape of her neck and jerked her face up to his. “Breath
one word to anyone and you’ll be in a heap of trouble. I know people. Your
interfering uncle’s motorbike shop will go up in flames, your nice new house
will follow, and that stupid rat called a dog will go missing. So just you
remember, Carly sweet, this is a lover’s tryst.” One smirk, a hard, bruising
kiss on her lips, and he stepped away and loped back to an old, red, four wheel
drive, getting in and driving away.
By the time the security guards
arrived, Carly was in her own car, the engine started and her seatbelt on, her shaking
hands on the steering wheel.
“Miss?” One of the security
guards knocked on the window.
Mustering a trembling smile, she
wound down her window and looked up into his concerned face. “Yes?”
“Was that man troubling you?”
“What? No.” She managed a
laugh. “He’s a friend.”
The guard didn’t look convinced,
his gaze travelling over her face, a frown creasing his brow.
“Really. He – uh, he gave me some
good news.” Feeling sick even as she said it, she added, “I think he’s going
to propose to me tonight.” She actually had to swallow the gag reflex.
The guard blinked, then grinned.
“That would explain the way he was holding you, like he never wanted to let you
go.”
“No, he didn’t.” They had no
idea.
“Okay, then. Well, Miss, you have
a lovely evening.” With a wink, he straightened and stepped back.
Carly couldn’t get out of the car
park fast enough. Once on the street, she drove straight to the nearest pub,
not wanting to go home, not trusting that Jonathon wouldn’t be watching,
getting ready to track her home.
She also needed time to calm down
before she went home and faced Ed, who’d take one look at her face and know
that something had happened.
Pulling into the car park behind
the pub, she turned off the engine, took several deep breaths, and wiped her
face with her hands. No tears, all dry. She checked her face in the mirror. Apart
from being pale, she didn’t look any different, but Ed would know and she
couldn’t take the risk. He’d be after Jonathon like a shot, and no way was she
going to risk Ed going to gaol on her behalf.
Grabbing her bag, she locked the
car and entered the pub, making straight for the bar and settling on one of the
empty stools.
“What can I get you, love?”
Not a drinker, Carly wondered if
now was a good time to start, but she shook her head.
“You don’t want a drink?”
“I’m sorry. A Diet Coke,
please.” She changed her mind. “No, make it a Coke, straight up.”
“Rough day?” Amusement sounded in
the barmaid’s voice.
Glancing up from where she was
hunting in her small bag for change, Carly found herself looking into a smiling
face. The smile was warm and genuine, the curly hair a halo around her head,
held back by a black bandana. The t-shirt she wore covered a flat chest, and
tattoos wound up one arm. “Charlie?”
“Yep.” Charlie poured the Coke. “Ice?”
Realising that Charlie probably
thought that Carly knew her name from hearing it in the pub, Carly debated
whether to say something, unsure if it would be welcome or not.
She decided on caution. “Yeah.
Rough day.”
Placing the glass of Coke on a coaster,
Charlie winked. “Man problems?”
“Bloody oath.”
Laughing, she walked off to serve
another customer.
Taking a sip of Coke, Carly
watched her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. God, she’d thought
leaving Jonathon behind had fixed all her problems. She should have known
better. As for what he wanted, she had no idea. Should she ring him, demand
he tell her? Shit no, she didn’t want to ring him, didn’t want anything to do
with him, but if she wanted him out of her life permanently, she had to find
whatever he thought she had in her possession.
Biting her lip, she slid the
mobile phone from her bag and stared at the keys, her thumb hovering over the
buttons as she debated on whether to call him or not.
A big mouthful of Coke and she
quickly tapped in the number, having deleted it from her address book though
not from her memory. That would take a little more time.
The phone rang on the other end
and then the answering machine clicked in, Jonathon’s voice cool, charming.
“Hi, you’ve reached Jonathon Allbright. Leave your name and number and I’ll
call you back.”
No way. No way was she going to
do that. Quickly she disconnected, snapping the phone shut and shoving it back
into her bag.
Grabbing the Coke, she downed the
remaining contents.
“Refill?” Charlie appeared.
“Yes, please.” Carly sighed.
“Make it a Diet Coke this time, thanks.”
“Calming down?” Eyes twinkling,
Charlie poured the Diet Coke from the tap.
“I don’t know about that.” Carly
laughed, feeling just a little better at the other woman’s friendly
understanding.
Placing the glass on the coaster,
Charlie hesitated before slinging the tea towel over her shoulder and resting
her hands on the bar. “I think I know you, and not from here.”
“You saw me at Ed’s shop.”
“Oh, yeah.” Retrieving the tea
towel from her shoulder, Charlie started to wipe the bar. “You’re his niece,
aren’t you? Carly?”
“Yeah.” Deciding she might as
well stop avoiding the subject, Carly added, “I’m sorry about what happened the
other night.”
Charlie cut her a glance. “You
know, huh?”
“Kind of hard not to.” Carly
shrugged. “Ed and I share a house.”
“Ah.” Charlie seemed to be about
to ask something else, but then shook her head slightly.
Someone at the other end of the
bar caught her attention and she walked off, but by the time Carly had almost
finished her second drink, Charlie reappeared.
“Look.” Charlie bit her lip, but
her gaze was direct, if not a little challenging. “I like Ed.”
“Most people do.”
“Is he still hung up on his ex?”
“Depends what you mean on ‘hung
up’.”
“I mean, is he still hankering
after her?”
“No.” Carly met her gaze
steadily. “No, he doesn’t want her back. He doesn’t want anything to do with
her.”
“That’s what I thought, but…”
“Look, Ed went through some rough
shit with his ex, she did a real number on him. But you need to get the story
from him, it’s not mine to tell.” Carly leaned forward slightly, liking
Charlie instinctively. “But I can tell you he’s an honest man, a trustworthy
one. He’s worth the trouble of getting to know.”
Charlie looked at her for several
seconds before smiling. “Is that so?”
“That’s so. Charlie, I can only
add that he regrets what happened and he was looking forward to going out with
you.”
“And you’re sure you can’t tell me
anymore?”
Carly shook her head, hoping she
wouldn’t regret it, but then Charlie nodded.
“Okay.” She flicked the tea towel
off her shoulder and dabbed at a spot on the bar. “My bike’s in his shop, I
was going to get my brother to pick it up.” She rubbed a particularly stubborn
spot on the bar. “But I reckon I’ll go tomorrow instead.”
Carly relaxed. “I think that’d be
a great idea.”
“Okay. Another drink?”
“No, thanks. I think I better
head home.”
“Nice meeting you, Carly.”
Charlie walked off to another customer.
Getting into her car, Carly
sighed. At least one good thing had come out of the whole fiasco. Now, she had
to go home and try to figure out exactly what Jonathon thought she had before
trouble started.
“Mate, you bombed on your date
with Dorothy?” Max took a sip of iced coffee. “Seriously? The hot redhead?”
“I didn’t want to date her anyway.”
Not bothering to mention that he’d bombed deliberately, Sam continued cleaning
the dressing trolley.
“Yeah, but still. You could have
jumped her bones.”
“Rather not.”
“They’re hot bones.”
“Maybe, but not my type.”
“So what is your type of bones?”
Max demanded. “Tell me, please, because you have all these hot sheilas wanting
a piece of you, and none seem to satisfy you.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you a
virgin?”
“What? No.”
“Because, seriously, I can help in
that department.”
“Max, no offence, but even if I
was a virgin, you’re not my type, either.”
“Are you into men?”
“I’m not even going to reply to
that.”
“My cousin’s gay. I can hook you
up with him. He likes the surfy look.”
“I have nothing against gay men,
but they’re not my type, either.”
“So if women aren’t your type, and
men aren’t your type…” Max crossed his eyes.
Balling the paper towel in one
hand, Sam tossed it into the bin. “I like women, I just haven’t met any that
float my boat.”
“I’m relieved.” Max took another
sip of coffee. “So tell me your type.”
“I don’t know that I have a type.”
“C’mon man, everyone has a type.
Whether they end up with that type, well, I’m married for the fourth time, so
let’s not go there.”
“I don’t know. It sounds more
interesting.” Sam started restocking the cupboards with dressing packs while
he had the chance. Any second and the ER could erupt once more into businesses.
“I don’t know any man who wouldn’t
give up his own mother for a chance to jump into a hot redhead’s undies.”
“And this is why you’re married
for the fourth time.”
“Come on,” Max urged. “Tell me.
What floats your boat? Gets your pecker up?” He stopped. “You can get your
pecker up, right?” ‘Cause I was only joking about the STDs…”
“Max, my pecker is fine and none
of your business.” Sam poked the last dressing pack into the box. “Isn’t your
break time up yet?”
“Five more minutes. Time enough
for you to tell me your type. Hot redhead? Cool blonde? Busty brunette?
What?” Max trailed along behind him. “I’m not going to give up, so you might
as well tell me.”
“You’re worse than an old man.”
“Tell me. Or I’ll introduce my
cousin to you.”
“Introduce your cousin to me, I
don’t care. I’m sure he’s a nice bloke. But he won’t float my boat.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Fine.” Exasperatedly amused, Sam
glanced around and pointed to an elderly woman sitting beside the stretcher her
husband was lying on. “Her.”
“The old geezer?”
“Yes.”
Max stared at Sam as though he had
two heads. “You’re into old women?”
“No, you jerk. I’m into a woman
who will sit by my bedside when I’m sick. I want a woman who will walk though
life beside me, knowing me, who cares about who I am.” Picking up a cleaning
solution, Sam proceeded to wipe the BP cuff above an empty stretcher. “I want
a woman who doesn’t care how I look, who knows me. Who’ll still love me when
I’m old and wrinkled and grey. I want a woman who will laugh with me, cry with
me, admire my garden and, oh yes, she has to love SJ.” He grinned. “’Cause SJ
and I come as a package.”
“I don’t believe I’m hearing
this,” said Max.
“You asked.”
“Are you a girl in a bloke’s body?
Because what I’m hearing is a woman’s idea.”
“I’m not the only bloke who wants
a true…” Sam winked. “
Love
for life.”
“Shit, you are a woman in a
bloke’s body.” Max threw the empty paper cup in the bin. “I had no idea.”
“That it’s you, sweetie, who
floats my boat?” Sam made kissy sounds. “My secret is out.”
“Gah. My iced coffee is coming
back up.”
“Come behind the curtain and I’ll
show you what else is coming up.”
“Not friggin’ likely.”
Sam laughed.
Max scratched the back of his
neck. “Seriously, Sam? You’re really looking for someone for your old age?”
Stopping at the sink, Sam washed
his hands and eyed his friend in the mirror. “Mate, you just don’t get it.
It’s not a companion for old age, it’s a companion for now and later. For all
the years between now and then.”
“No hot redhead.”
“The colour of her hair doesn’t
matter.”
“Va-va-voom figure?” Max asked
almost desperately.
“Depends on your definition of
va-va-voom.”
Max made an hourglass motion with
his hands, the top part a whole lot bigger than the bottom.
“My definition of va-va-voom is
one where my tongue falls out of my head,” Sam explained. “Whether she’s
skinny, curvy, or generously rounded, I know that when I meet the right woman,
her figure will make my tongue fall out regardless.”
“That is sick. Man, I am so disappointed
in you. You are a disgrace to the male population.”
“Is this your definition of a
va-va-voom figure?” Sam repeated Max’s gesture.
“Abso-bloody-lutely.”
“Nothing more, nothing less?”
“You got it. A man has needs.
Mine is a
wow
figure.”
“You won’t settle for anything
less in your woman?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Max
nodded.
“So why did you ask me where to
buy sexy bras for your wife who is a – what did you say? Flat as a board?”
“Oh look.” Max glanced at his
watch. “Break time is over. See ya later.” And he walked out of the ER.
Grinning, Sam glanced around the
room to check if everything was in place.
The curtain of the cubicle next to
him whipped open and Hilary, the pert little brunette CN, cooed at him. “Why,
Sam, I’ve been looking for a man who’ll be with me all the years of my life,
too!”
“Oh, look,” said Sam. “Break
time.” Quickly, he strode from the room, passing the bemused doctor who was
holding a clip board. “Back in fifteen minutes, Harry.”
Talk about close calls, he figured
he’d been lucky to get away without Hilary latching onto his back.
Unfortunately, word had apparently
gotten around of his discussion with Max, and when it was knock-off time and he
went to his locker to get his keys and wallet, it was to find a red rose stuck
through the locker handle.
Wonderful. The thing was, he
didn’t know if it was a joke by Louis or Max, or, what was really unsettling,
stuck there by Hilary, the CN, or Jean, the clerk who sat in her own room off
to the side of the ER. Both women had been giving him the eyeball for the remainder
of the shift.
Man, sometimes he felt like a
piece of meat.
Feeling the need for fresh air, he
grabbed the bag containing his bathers. A swim at the beach before going home
was just the thing to clear his head.
Evening was setting in and Sam
sighed in pleasure. He now had two days off work to look forward to, two
glorious days. The sun was low in the sky, the birds still chirping in the
garden, SJ was sprawled out at his feet, and Sam, well, Sam was sprawled out on
the veranda steps. Bum on one step, legs stretched out and crossed at the
ankles, an iced coffee in one hand and his book in the other. Unfortunately,
he couldn’t find his glasses. He’d placed them down for a minute before he
plopped down on the steps, he knew that, so they couldn’t be far. But he was
way too comfortable to get up and find them. Soft country music came from the
radio on the veranda.
“This,” he told SJ, “is the life.
You and me, buddy, you and me.”
His gaze wandered around his front
yard before drifting across the street to where Carly’s little blue Honda was
parked. He wondered what she was doing. He’d discovered that she worked for
the Golden Chain Nursing Association when he’d watched her get out of her Honda
and walk inside her house. He recognised her uniform - pale blue polo shirt with
gold embroidery in a circle on the back and a smaller one over the breast
pocket, and navy blue culottes. On her feet she wore black Mary Janes, which
was cute. Especially on her.
For a large woman, she had nice
legs. Sturdy but shapely. Figure like an overblown hourglass. A man could
hang onto that woman while making love to her. Sam just bet she could take
some rough lovin’. He wouldn’t have to be so careful, afraid of hurting her
with his bigger frame.
When the door shut behind her, he
sighed and tipped back his head, letting the last of the sun’s rays warm his
face. It’d been awhile since he’d last made love to a woman. Sex wasn’t
something he indulged in with every woman who crossed his path, unlike his
youth. As a highly-hormone-charged teenager and a young man in university,
he’d bedded his share of women and learned some pretty interesting things along
the way. But since he started working as a nurse, and had seen and experienced
more of life, sex for the sake of it lost its appeal. The only women he’d had
sex with since had been a couple of girlfriends, but even then, something had
been missing.
Thinking back over it now, Sam
knew exactly what was missing. It was the same thing he saw in Alan’s eyes
whenever he spoke about his wife, the expression even his vet and friend, Tim
Clarke, had whenever
his
wife’s name was brought up. Even Mike, Alan’s stoic,
big, menacing cop partner, had a soft glimmer in his eyes whenever his beloved Maddie’s
name was mentioned.
It was that thing that softened
their eyes, brought out their protective instincts, made them talk with a
certain something in their voices that spoke of contentment, and he’d seen Alan
– roguish Alan, chick-mad Alan – go to jelly on the spot as soon as Sophie,
Sam’s cousin, walked through the door.
Or, to be truthful, it made Alan
sit up and beg like a dog for a bone. He might be all smart mouth and sexual
innuendo, but Sophie could make the man weak at the knees just by looking at
him. One word and he was by her side. Hell, she didn’t even have to speak and
Alan was by her side.
His friend had never been a
happier man in his life. Since Sophie, he’d never looked at another woman
again except as a friend or a member of the public needing a cop’s service.
Yeah, they all had something that
Sam hadn’t found with any of his girlfriends, and as far as he was concerned,
if he couldn’t find it, he didn’t want casual flings. He was over it.
Not that he didn’t have needs.
Hell, he had a lot of needs since Carly had arrived in the neighbourhood. He
was pretty sure he’d be having some hot dreams tonight about Carly in her uniform
and Mary Jane shoes. Call him a pervert, but those Mary Janes just did it for
him.
“I’m a pervert,” he informed SJ.
SJ purred and thumped his tail
lazily on the lawn.
“However, to be fair, I’m only a
pervert when it comes to her and the Mary Janes.”
SJ yawned.
“Yeah, I thought you’d care.”
Closing his eyes again, he tipped
his head back, leaning his elbows on the veranda step above him and breathing
deep of the warm air. He wondered what Carly was doing tonight. Probably
having a nice shower, the water running down that lush, curvy body, over those
magnificent big breasts and hips, running over that generously rounded
derriere…
Talk about giving himself the
beginnings of a boner in a most inappropriate place.
SJ spat and growled.
Opening his eyes, Sam saw Ed enter
his property by way of simply leaping over the fence. Crusher stopped at the
gate, disappointed, until he took one look at SJ stalking down the garden path
towards him, and then he took off home, bounding across the quiet road and up
the garden path into Ed’s house, howling like a banshee.
Not in the least perturbed by his
dog’s less-than-tough antics, Ed stood in front of Sam, fingers hooked in his
clean, but oil-stained, jeans. “Hey, Sam.”
“Ed.”
“Got plans for tonight?”
“Nope.” Languidly, Sam waggled
the book in his hand. “This is it.”
“Boring.” Ed grinned widely.
“However, I have something more exciting to offer you.”
Uh-oh. Sam wasn’t entirely sure
he would like what Ed had to offer. Motorbikes weren’t his forte. Surfboards,
yes, motorbikes, no.
“Me and some friends are having a
friendly game of poker tonight. You can join us if you want.”
Poker. Gambling wasn’t his forte,
either. He’d never gotten to really like it, unless it was a friendly match
between him and some friends. But playing poker with a bunch of bikies…
Almost as though Ed could read his
thoughts, the skinny bloke added, “No big stakes. No knives, no guns, no
drugs. A little booze, but no drunks. Can’t do it. Got Carly and Lisa
there.”
“Carly?” Okay, that had Sam’s
ears perking up like a happy hound’s. “She plays poker?”
“Yeah. Let me give you a tip.”
Ed winked. “She’s a crap player.”
“Huh.”
“Lisa, on the other hand, she’s a killer
at cards. But don’t worry, she probably won’t play well tonight. She had to
be dragged away from the kids. The twins are staying with their Gran for a few
hours. So no kids.” Ed beamed. “What do you say?”
“Well…” Even though the thought
of Carly was enough to make him feel a little warm inside, playing poker with a
bunch of people he didn’t know didn’t really appeal to him.
Ed sighed. “It’s okay, man. I
understand.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. People see me with these
tatts and the motorbike, and they get the wrong idea.” He glanced over at the
fence separating Debbie’s house from Sam’s. “I was hoping this would be a
fresh start for me and Carly, you know? But I guess some of the neighbours
have already made up their minds.” Turning away, he added, “Anyway, thanks for
everything Sam. No hard feelings, hey?”