‘Come on,’ he
said, even more determined to get out of her boudoir, ‘I doubt you’ll get any
more sleep tonight. You can tell me all about the guy who was fawning all over
you. The one you claimed to be your ex a few weeks back. The one with the
roving hands.’
She looked
momentarily surprised. ‘Dancers can be overly tactile,’ she told him. ‘But he’s
still very firmly an ex.’
Ex or not, we
need to get you a new dance partner.
Craig got tactile
with her himself by placing a hand on her lower back and steering her back to
the living room. He shooed Andy across the couch to sit in the wet patch. He
pulled Charlotte down into the seat, keeping himself between her and her
brother. It was a tight squeeze for the three of them, and the length of her
was pressed against him, satin slip and all. Very tactile indeed.
‘Did you know
about Cassette and Geoff?' The question wasn’t a surprise. If anything, it was
a long time coming.
‘Not at first. She
told me she was seeing a married man, but I didn’t meet him until that night at
the swing club. If it makes you feel any better, he’s mercilessly dumped her.’
‘Hmm…’ Charlotte
contemplated, then relaxed against him, her temple resting on his shoulder. ‘Nope,
it doesn’t,’ she said.
Wanting to be the
source of something that did make her feel better, he shifted to pull her into
his arms and steer her head to his chest.
‘What were you
doing there tonight, Craig? I thought you didn’t go out much.’
‘I don’t. I owed
Cass a favour. That your brother’s band isn’t too bad, made it bearable.’
‘But as a rule you
don’t like noisy rock-n-roll gigs?’
‘I don’t like
crowds, and I don’t like people.’
‘Seriously? Why
not?’
‘They tend to let
you down.’
Glancing over at
Andy, Charlotte said, ‘People always let you down. You just forgive them and
move on.’
‘Mmm.’
‘What about
Cassette? Hasn’t she ever let you down? I find it hard to believe otherwise.’
‘I know what to
expect with Cassie.’
‘You’re probably
the only one who does then.’
Craig laughed.
Charlotte
continued. ‘Has she ever said anything to you about Emily? I suppose you
wouldn’t tell me if she had. She’s had this really weird thing about Emily for
as long as we’ve known her. Whenever we’re at an event and Cassette decides to
perform, she always seems to try and drag Emily into her act.
‘I expect that’s
embarrassing for Emily.’
‘You said it. Is
that why I’ve never seen you out with Cassette before? Do you know to steer
clear?’
‘Not really. I do
go places with her. Work functions and the like. Places she’s not likely to
perform.’
‘It’s terrible,
isn’t it?’
Craig laughed. ‘Yeah,
it’s bad. But she’s not all bad. You probably find that hard to believe.’
‘I imagine she’s a
high maintenance friend. Perhaps that’s what puts you off people. We’re not all
like that.’
Craig laughed
again. ‘You don’t think you’re high maintenance?’
Charlotte grinned.
‘I’m not usually. I’m very accommodating.'
Easing in to him,
she continued her questioning. ‘So what’s the story with your dad and Keith
Morgan? I’ve told you all about my sordid past. It’s your turn to spill,
although your tale is probably not as sordid.’
Stiffening, and
then hoping she hadn’t noticed, Craig said, ‘It’s hardly your sordid past
Charlotte. You were just a kid.’
‘Are you avoiding
answering me?’
Craig exhaled a
breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He owed her something. He understood
what it took to share your secrets.
‘My dad and Keith
were high school mates. According to my nana, they were the kind of boys who
would have dropped out of school so they could get on with making money, but
they stayed through to their senior year because their parents bribed them to. As
soon as they did finish, those same parents threw money at them to give them a
leg up. Somehow they managed to learn a thing or two about making things
happen, and before they knew it, they had a property portfolio and a fledgling
company.'
‘What about your
mum? What did she do?’
‘Mum was a
marketing graduate when she met Dad. She was doing an internship at a small
company he and Keith contracted to promote one of their earlier developments. By
the time he met her, the company was already a success, but when Mum took over
the marketing and networking, it just kept growing. Plus it was the 80s. The
decade of the property developer – no planning restrictions and a supportive
government. Dad and Keith were like pigs in mud.'
‘What happened to
your parents?’
He paused. It
wasn’t a question someone asked unless they knew there was a story. As far as
he could recall, he’d given her no indication he was an orphan. She must have
uncovered that piece of information herself.
The story of his
parent’s death was not one he shared.
‘They had a car
accident coming home from a function one night. It was some rural retreat thing.
They ran off the road and into a tree. My dad was driving drunk.’
‘I’m sorry,
Craig,’ she said and slipped her arms around his torso, snuggling closer in to
him and driving him to distraction. He lifted a tendril of her hair and twirled
it around his fingers. Closing his eyes momentarily, he rested his head on the
back of the couch.
It was late, well
early actually, and he was tired. While he hadn’t matched Emily’s pace, he’d
had his share of beers, although his alcohol buzz had faded long ago. Sitting
on Charlotte’s couch, the heat of her against him and the smell of her hair,
shifted his pulse up a gear through the fogginess.
He was about to
take a deep, calming breath when she sat up and looked past him at her brother.
Disturbed, Craig’s eyes flew open. Andy was sleeping, but noting the terror
threatening to grip Charlotte, Craig picked up his wrist, found his pulse and
offered it to her. She felt it and reassured, leaned back in her seat, her head
coming to rest against Craig’s shoulder.
She released a
heavy sigh. ‘Sorry, just a moment of panic.' She moved slightly and her slip
crept up her milky thighs.
Don’t look
, Craig told himself.
‘Do you have any
brothers or sisters?’
‘No. Although
Cassie comes pretty close to being a sister.’
‘Why do you call
her Cassie?’ Charlotte asked. ‘She always insists everyone calls her Cassette.’
‘She insists I do
too, but I won’t. I can’t.’
‘Hmm.' She smiled
at that. ‘Does she piss you off like only a sibling can?’
‘As far as I can
judge, yes.' He laughed softly.
‘Mine sure know
how to piss me off. I had no idea Andy was using. Did not even suspect he might
be tempted. I really thought he would stay well away from it. And Emily, I
don’t know what to do with her. One minute she’s working like she’s never
worked before and seemingly content, the next she’s hell bent on imploding. I
understand, and I know I need to let her work it through, but I feel so helpless.
When she attacked me tonight, I was so angry at her, I just walked away and
abandoned her. I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘Hey,’ Craig said,
tipping her chin so she met his eyes. ‘This is not your fault, nor is it your
responsibility. Emily and Andy are adults, Charlotte. They should be taking
care of themselves.’
‘But I’ve always
taken care of them,’ she said. ‘Mum was too busy working and Dad was never
around even when he was alive. I don’t think I know how to stop trying to take
care of them.’
‘You need someone
to take care of you,’ he said, unwisely as he laid a gentle kiss on the top of
her head.
‘Hmm,’ she
murmured again, lazily this time, moving against him alluringly. She changed
the subject deftly, cheekily. ‘Maybe someone who can drive me around tomorrow
so I can look for somewhere to relocate my gallery before it gets bulldozed to
make way for some 1980s abomination.’
‘Mmm,’ he murmured
into her hair. ‘Can’t do that. Conflict of interest. Does that mean you're
giving up?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Of
course I’m not giving up. I was just testing you.'
She looked up at
him, eyes smouldering and ready to play.
‘Yeah, right,’ he
said.
Her eyes dropped
to his lips and his mind emptied of everything but her. Compelled by a force
over which he had no control, he kissed her, gently, but confidently. She
didn’t pull away. Her arms slipped around him, and she accepted his
increasingly ardent kiss.
He breathed her in
and savoured her: the smell of her; the taste of her and the heat of her. After
a time, he broke the kiss to trace his lips across the tear paths marking her
cheeks, wishing he could make sure she never cried again. His trail of kisses
moved along her jawline, back, back, back towards the soft spot behind her ears.
She sighed and climbed onto his lap, one hand reaching for the side of his neck
and the other resting softly against his chest. His reaction was instant and
powerful. He needed to get her closer. Moving one hand to her luscious hips, he
pulled her nearer and then reached the other up into her hair to steer her
mouth back to his. As he claimed her lips once more, he suddenly received a
sharp, forceful elbow directly to the ribs.
‘Let go of my
sister,’ Andy growled, coming to beside them. Craig had forgotten he was there.
Charlotte seemed equally surprised. She flushed, glared at her brother and
climbed out of Craig’s embrace. Thankfully she didn’t run away, but simply
turned her attention to the muted TV, breathing heavily and snuggling into the
crook of his arm with her head on his now painfully constricted chest.
‘You’re killing
me,’ he whispered into her jasmine-scented hair.
Charlotte
woke against something warm and solid. She inhaled him before she opened her
eyes.
‘Hi,’ Craig
murmured, hearing her breathing change.
They were still on
the couch. Nestled against him with her arms wrapped around his chest, she was
hanging on for dear life. Reluctantly, she untangled herself and sat up. He
looked a little dishevelled, extremely tired and entirely delectable.
‘What time is it?’
she asked, looking at her watch to answer her own question. The sunshine
outside was intense, and her apartment was heating up, suggesting it was
mid-morning. ‘Nine o’clock,’ she mused. Not late enough, given they’d been
awake when the first rays of said sunshine had crept over the horizon.
‘Did you sleep?’
she asked him, looking back up.
‘A little,’ he
said, catching her gaze, making her slightly giddy.
She resisted the
urge to snuggle back against him. He hadn’t moved, as though he was waiting for
her to do just that. It felt so natural to have him sprawled across her couch.
He brushed a stray
lock of hair back from her face with the familiarity of a lover.
If only.
‘Did I dribble on
you?’ Charlotte asked.
He looked down in
mock horror. ‘No, no dribble,’ he said, wiping his hand across his shirt-front
to demonstrate.
Charlotte smiled. Despite
the adventures of her wayward siblings last night, waking up in his arms made
her feel like everything would be okay. She felt like she belonged there, like
that
was home. Against her better judgment, she wanted him to stay. To stop him
running out the door.
‘Coffee?’
‘Please,’ he
agreed, sitting up, running his hand through his hair and following her with
his eyes as she poked around her kitchen. He smiled at her when their eyes met,
returning her goofy grin.
Oh help me, I’m
in love
, she thought.
Making the coffee,
she was grateful for familiarity of the routine. So completely did he fill her
awareness, she surely would have fumbled if it hadn’t been so second nature.
‘Do you know what
happened to Andy?’ she asked, trying to sound calm as she handed him his coffee
and reclaimed her seat on the couch next to him.
‘He got up at
about five and disappeared into your room. I may have fallen asleep on him. I
may have been crushing him.'
Charlotte giggled
at the visual and was relieved he hadn’t found somewhere else to sleep when she'd
fallen asleep on him. She took a sip from her cup and set it down on the coffee
table.
‘Do you want me to
stick around?’ Craig asked. Delighted by the offer, Charlotte let herself be
drawn in by his gravitational pull. She edged an inch or so closer.
‘For the
fireworks?’ she asked.
‘If that’s how
it’s going to play out, maybe I don’t want to stick around,’ he teased, setting
his own cup down and moving an inch closer himself. His eyes were on her lips
as he ran his tongue over his own, openly preparing to sample her.
She readied
herself for the welcome onslaught, but before it came, her bedroom door opened
and Andy stumbled out, still in last night’s clothes: damp; greasy and wrecked.
Charlotte’s mood
shifted fast, faster than even she could have anticipated. She leapt off the
couch and turned on her brother. He wasn’t stoned any more. It was time for
some answers.
‘What the fuck,
Andy?’ she demanded.
She hadn’t
expected him to emerge so early and banked on having the rest of the morning to
prepare her interrogation. That he was up, and searching for his gear, threw
her off. He was on a mission to get out of the line of fire as quickly as he
could.
Craig slowly stood
up behind her. A barricade of strength to back her up, not getting in her way
and not leaving her side either.
‘Piss off,
Charlotte. I don’t need to hear your self-righteous bullshit,’ Andy snapped.
Behind her, Craig
stiffened and then relaxed, ready to pounce.
Charlotte didn’t
back down. She might not be prepared to voice it with reason, but she had a bit
to get off her chest. ‘How could you bring that shit into my house? It’s not
only stupid, Andrew, it’s fucking disrespectful. You know how I feel about that
stuff. How do you think I felt seeing you unconscious like that?’
‘I knew you’d
overreact like this. It was nothing, Charlotte. I’m fine.’
‘Nothing? For
fuck’s sake, Andy. We couldn’t wake you up.' Her voice wavered. Craig laid his
hand gently on the back of her neck, and it was like salve. She leaned back
into it a fraction as a tear escaped. ‘I woke up to that sound, Andy: the sound
of someone being slapped back to consciousness. Do you remember that sound,
Andy?’
Andy’s phoned
beeped, and he jumped to the welcome distraction. He read the incoming text and
then looked around the room again. ‘Where’s my shit?’ he asked.
Craig caressed the
back of Charlotte’s neck with his thumb. ‘I may have thrown it down the stairs
after your mates,’ he told Andy.
Andy looked at him
for the first time, as though he'd just realised he was still there from last
night. Charlotte could see him weighing up his opponent. Craig was tall and
toned, and he made Andy look like a little boy dressing up as a rockstar. Which,
for the most part, he was.
‘Who is this guy,
Charlotte?' Andy asked, dismissively.
Lulled by the
soothing hand on the back of her neck and the wall of warmth behind her,
Charlotte began to offer the answer that felt natural. ‘My boy...'
Thankfully, the
word caught in her throat. But it was a good question. Who was Craig to her
now? She’d woken up in love with him, but he was far from her boyfriend. His
agenda with the gallery made him her adversary.
She thought about
last night and all that he'd done for her, from looking out for her sister to
throwing out Andy’s band mates. Staying with her while she was afraid. Why?
And why was he still here? After her Freudian slip, she couldn’t look at him,
but she could still feel him, even where he wasn’t touching her. He felt steady
and reassuring.
The answer she
eventually gave Andy was noncommittal. ‘This is Craig. Craig - my brother,
Andy.'
‘Why’d you chuck
my shit out, Craig,’ Andy sneered.
‘I was cleaning
out the junk and I guess it got caught up in it.' Craig wasn’t backing down.
Andy glowered at
him. Waving his phone at Charlotte, indicating the message he’d just received,
he said, ‘The boys are in the van downstairs. We’re heading up the coast now. Say
goodbye to Emily for me.’
Damn him, he was
running out on her. ‘Wait, Andy. You can’t leave like this. We need to talk
about this.’
‘We don’t need to
talk about it, Charlotte, because I already know what you're going to say. Rewind
the conversation we’ve just had and hit repeat. You’re so much like Mum,
Charlotte.’
Ouch.
His impudence was
too much for Craig. He stepped in front of Charlotte and, through gritted teeth
noted, ‘You know, if you weren’t Charlotte’s brother, I’d tell you that you're
a little git. But because you’re her brother I won’t, because she loves you,
and I wouldn’t want to insult anyone she loves. However, I do agree you should
go now. And perhaps when you’re feeling a little less insolent you might give
her a call and tell her you’re sorry for what you’ve done and what you’ve
said.’
Charlotte stared
at his back, dumbfounded.
The two men
scowled at each other some more until a knock on the door sent Andy scampering
to answer it, collecting what was left of his belongings on the way. Craig
hounded him down the hall. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at
Justin, the lead singer of Reality Cheque, standing on the door step. Charlotte
slid up beside Craig as Andy fled down the stairs, gathering his scattered
clothes as he went.
Justin looked
Craig up and down but wasn’t intimidated. Out of all the band members, he was
the most mature and confident. Contrary to his on-stage persona, he also lacked
the arrogance of the others and was humble and genuine off-stage.
‘Hey, Charlotte,’
he said, speaking directly to her. ‘Wazza told me what happened last night. I
expect he’s been a dick this morning, yeah?’
‘What’s going on,
Justin? What are you guys up to?' Charlotte glared at him, waiting for an
explanation. Craig watched on, mutely.
‘I want you to
know I’ve got nothing to do with it, Charlotte. I’m not sure how much Andy has
told you, but this is not his first overdose.’
‘I gathered that
from Wazza.’
Justin pressed on.
‘After the first one, he promised me he would lay off the shit, and I believed
him.’
Charlotte heard
her parent’s arguments in her head. It was the same old story.
Justin continued. ‘After
the second one, I told him three strikes you’re out. I said I would kick him
out of the band. This is the third strike. It pisses me off as much as you, I’m
sure. I’m not going to drag junkies around with me, especially when we’re
looking at touring internationally soon. I don’t need to take that shit to
Japan. After this tour, it’s either rehab or he’s out. I’m pretty sure he won’t
take the threat lightly.’
Charlotte nodded
cautiously, somewhat relieved at least one of them didn’t condone the drug use.
That it was Justin, who was the band’s main drawcard and therefore yielded some
influence, was comforting. Charlotte leaned against Craig, and he silently
slipped an arm around her shoulders.
‘I’m worried I
won’t hear from him. Will you call me to let me know he’s alright?’
‘Sure. What’s your
number?’
Charlotte recited
her number and Justin typed it into his phone. ‘I’m so sorry, Charlotte,’ he
said before he left, reaching for her hand and squeezing it.
Craig dropped his
arm as she closed the door, but trailed his hand up and down her back as they
walked the few steps back to the kitchen. Charlotte poured herself a glass of
water at the sink.
‘Are you okay?’ Craig
asked.
I might be if
you put your hand on the back of my neck again.
‘No,’ she said,
but she tried shooting him a reassuring smile anyway. ‘I feel so helpless.’
‘There’s not a lot
you can do, Charlotte. He needs to acknowledge he has a problem first.’
‘So how do I make
him see that?’ she asked.
‘You can’t.’
Charlotte pouted
slightly.
‘You’re not used
to not being able to fix things for them, are you?’ Craig asked.
‘No,’ she
admitted.
‘You know you have
to let them sort themselves out, right?’
‘Yes.' She sighed,
resigned, keeping her back to him, lest she lose her resolve to not weep again.
‘Can you do that?’
‘No.’
‘Always looking
out for somebody else,’ he commented. ‘Who’s looking after you, Charlotte?'
Charlotte turned
to say something self-effacing and found herself caught in a breathless and
determined kiss, one that was bent on making up for previous lost opportunities.
How did he get so close?
Mmmm, how can I get him closer?
She parted
her lips beneath the pressure of his and invited him in. Her hands gripped the
sink, she wasn’t going to surrender entirely, but she gave him her mouth and
her breath and her face.
Don’t stop, don’t stop
. His hands moved around
her hips, tipping them towards him and automatically tugging her hands away
from the sink at the same time. Given their freedom, her arms disengaged from
her brain and entangled themselves around him.
He pulled her
closer and slid his hands around her back, one heading north and the other
south to cup her butt, fingertips tantalisingly close to the core of the ache
building within her. She drowned in the kiss, barely able to bring herself up
for air. His desire was obvious and sharp against her abdomen.
Her mind cleared
of everything but him. This enigmatic man who was at once her arch enemy and
her greatest temptation. She burned for him in a way she’d never known before. He
might be playing with her, drawing her in to make his kill, but with his lips
and hips pressed against hers, she didn’t care. He could do what he wanted,
take everything. She'd give it all just to feel him inside her once more.
Without breaking
their kiss, he lifted her so she was sitting on the kitchen bench. Her knees
parted to invite him closer, and her legs wrapped around him to hold him there.
One of his hands
found her breast. He traced a finger around its curve, then cupped it, his
thumb searching for and locating her alert nipple, teasing it through the satin
of her barely-there slip. A moan escaped her.
He pulled back
from the kiss, to grin at her momentarily, before dipping his head, peeling the
satin away, and claiming the prize his thumb had found with his mouth. She
arched towards him as his tongue caressed her, her hand holding his head in
place, wanting him to never, ever stop.