Save the Last Dance (35 page)

Coreen stood up, grabbed her hand and tugged her upright. ‘Cab's due in five. We'd better get outside.'

Alice just nodded. Then she looked at the suitcase. ‘Shouldn't that have gone in the back of Dodgy Dave's van with everything else?'

‘Are you nuts? I've got all the costume jewellery in here,
padded out with a few scarves and a mink cape. I'm not letting dear old Dave get his mitts on this!'

It made sense.

She let Coreen yabber away as they walked to the front of the building and climbed into the waiting cab. Alice sat numbly in the back as they nipped through the quiet backstreets to her house.

She'd done the right thing. She'd had to run when she had.

If she'd been weaker, had given in to Cameron's pull, then she'd have ended up in a terrible mess—her heart squished beyond recognition and no good to anyone, not even second-hand. That didn't mean that it didn't hurt like hell, but it did mean that one day, when she found someone who thought she was everything a woman should be, she'd have something to love him back with. She just hoped her poor heart had recovered by then—because it seemed to have a terminal case of something at the moment, despite all the sensible things she'd done to protect it.

At least she'd have her new business to concentrate on. From what Coreen had said they had been inundated with requests for more of the same kind of merchandise from some very wealthy potential clients. She was even talking about finding a shop to lease in a better neighbourhood than they'd looked at before—something a little more upmarket.

Coreen lived closer, so it made sense for the taxi to drop her off first. And, horrible as it might sound, Alice was quite relieved when she and her blue suitcase were gone. She was able to drop the fake smile, stop all the nodding, and just slump in the back seat of the cab.

Back to real life now, Alice. Pull yourself together. The ball was a success. Coreen's Closet is going to take off. You've got the whole world at your feet.

Thinking of feet, she looked down at her Lucite shoes. They were still as fabulous as ever, but they were both still accounted for. Cinderella she was not—even if she'd seemed to track of that for a while back there. No, it had all been smoke and mirrors, spotlights and glitter balls. Now it was time to get back to the real world. Time to turn back into a pumpkin.

T
HE
limo didn't have any problem trailing Alice's taxi. Cameron drummed his fingers on the arm rest as he watched the cab stop and let her out. He paid careful attention to which path she went up in the narrow car-lined street filled with redbrick terraced houses. As soon as he'd pinpointed the right front door he was out of the car and knocking on it.

But it wasn't Alice who answered, but a short guy in a curry-dribbled T-shirt. He didn't even bat an eyelid when Cameron asked for Alice, even though it was half past one in the morning.

‘You'd better come in,' he said, opening the door wide. ‘We're not quite sure what to do with her.'

We?
And what was the matter with Alice?

Cameron followed the man into a living room dominated by a large flat-screen TV and enough high-spec audio visual equipment to make any geek's heart soar. A battle game of some description was paused on the TV—a large, sharp-toothed monster frozen in mid-air, about to land on a blood-smeared dragon. The remains of a takeaway were littered across the carpet, along with a couple of empty cans of cheap beer. And in the middle of all this clutter and stale-smelling
furniture was Alice, in her dark green ballgown, looking as beautiful as ever and sobbing her heart out.

He walked over to her, crouched down and took her hands. She didn't even flinch, too miserable even to be surprised to see him. She held up a shoe and gulped.

‘I broke my shoe,' she said and just started crying all the harder. ‘My beautiful shoe…'

Cameron was a bit wrong-footed by that. Maybe his male ego was bigger than it should have been, because he'd thought—had maybe even hoped in a warped kind of way—that she'd been crying about
him
.

He took the shoe from her. The clear glass-like heel was hanging off.

Puzzled, he looked at Alice again. He knew girls liked shoes, but
this
much…? And he hadn't ever suspected
Alice
was one of those girls. But until a couple of weeks ago there had been a lot of things he hadn't suspected about Alice. How funny and strong-willed she could be. How resourceful and determined.

‘They're just shoes,' he said, sitting down next to her. ‘You can get another pair.'

Alice looked at him as if he'd just insulted her mother. ‘I don't
want
another pair! I want this pair. But it's broken and I don't know how to fix it and I'll probably never be able to wear them again.' She paused to take a deep gurgling sniff. ‘And I'll never find another pair like them. I might never find another pair
at all
! And then I'll be
shoeless
for the rest of my life. Old and lonely and…and…shoeless!'

Cameron looked at Alice. He hated seeing her like this. If he could, he would hunt down her heart's desire and give it to her on a silver platter. Gently he prised the other shoe from her grip and put the pair down on the floor beside him, avoiding a foil curry container with an oily slick in the bottom.

If Alice wanted these shoes, and these shoes only, then he would have them repaired—whatever the cost. And if they couldn't be repaired he'd scour the globe for replacements.

He took a deep breath and hoped the universe was still in the mood for granting wishes tonight. Because he really wanted to convince Alice to give him a chance, to let them explore whatever this thing between them was.

‘Alice, I'll take care of the shoes. Whatever you want, I'll get it for you.'

She looked up at him, her gaze flicking between his eyes, searching for the truth of his statement.

‘What I want is to know what
you
want, Cameron. Why are you here?'

Such a simple question. So hard to answer. Partly because he wasn't sure how to put it all into words, and partly because he didn't know if he was brave enough to do it if he could. He settled on asking for something concrete.

‘I would like to spend more time with you. I don't want…
this
…to be over.'

He'd had it with
temporary
.

A strange combination of suspicion and surprise clouded her eyes.

‘Why? Why me?'

Because I can't stop thinking about you. Because I love being with you. Because I have a feeling that if I don't see you again something inside me will shrivel up and dry out.

Those words sounded so lame inside his head—like bad dialogue from a cheesy chick-flick. He couldn't say them, even if it was true. He reached out and took one of her hands in his.

‘Because you deserve to be treated like a princess.'

There—that was much better. Women always liked to hear things like that.

So why did Alice swiftly pull her hand out of his? Why did her chin jut forward just a little?

‘I'm not a princess and I never will be. Don't kid yourself.'

Frustration started to form a cloud in Cameron's head. Why was she being so stubborn? She was being ridiculous. Didn't she know how sweet and funny and clever she was? Who had been telling her otherwise? He'd like to find that person and make them eat their words—swiftly followed by their teeth.

She got up and walked away from him, and when she could go no further, when she had reached the corner of the room, she turned and faced him, one hand on her hip.

‘Did you love Jessica?'

Cameron stiffened. Where the heck had
that
come from? And what did Jessica have to do with him and Alice? Had she been whispering in Alice's ear? Knowing
dah-ling
Jessica, she'd have had her claws out if she'd had the opportunity. He needed to put this right—make Alice see sense.

‘No, I didn't love her.' Sometimes, towards the end, he hadn't even liked her—despite the fact she could be very charming company when she wanted to be. It struck him that even after four months of on-and-off dating he hadn't really known Jessica at all. She too put up a front—a bulletproof sensuality that deflected everything. And it had never bothered him. Maybe she was as much a coward as he was. He wondered what she was really like behind her fun-loving party-girl persona. Not because he was interested in her in a romantic sense any more, but because he was suddenly certain there was more under the surface than he had ever seen, had ever bothered to look for. ‘I'm not sure I even knew her very well.'

He'd hoped it would put Alice's mind at rest, but somehow his response had just made her frown all the harder.

‘Then what was it that made you want to go out with her in the first place? If that isn't a really obvious question…'

He tore his eyes from hers and looked across the room to the TV screen. The monster was still frozen; the dragon was still blood-smeared. He didn't want to open up and tell her this. Now he looked at his behaviour it all seemed so pathetic. Alice would think badly of him if he told her the truth—that he'd been afraid, that underneath all the hype he was still a quivering coward. He almost laughed out loud. Oh, God, the bullies had been right after all.

But she'd send him away if he didn't say
something
, so he'd just have to try and make it sound not too awful. He couldn't bear it if she looked at him in disgust, if he saw her opinion of him change.

‘It's hard to explain…' He tried to tell her that it hadn't been as heartless and cynical as it sounded. Even though he hadn't been in love, he'd honestly been
infatuated
with the string of women he'd dated. It was just that the shimmer of perfection that had attracted him to them in the beginning hadn't seem to last. And just as he was starting to lose interest he'd spot someone else and he'd be off again, the whole cycle repeating itself.

As the words poured forth he felt himself hollow out. It was a horrible feeling because the space wasn't left empty. A cold wind of fear rushed in to fill the void.

‘It wasn't a calculated thing. It's just…'

‘It's just that you were living up to your name.'

He turned to look at her. ‘What?'

‘Hunter. You obviously love the thrill of the chase.' She looked at the floor. ‘Not so keen on the
keeping
of what you've won, though. Always on to the next thing—bigger and better…'

Up until now that part of his character had always seemed a positive thing—it was how he'd achieved so much success so quickly—but the way Alice said it…She sounded so blank, so hopeless.

He got up and walked over to where she was standing.

‘None of that matters now.' Inside, his stomach began to pitch. ‘I don't want Jessica. I don't even want someone else like her. I want you.'

‘This isn't real,' she said. ‘It's the evening, an adrenaline rush, a
moment
…'

Wasn't real? How could she say that? The very air around them was pulsing with authenticity. Couldn't she feel it? For the first time in his life he was seeing things clearly.

‘And I can't do this if all it is going to be is a moment.' She fixed him with a serious look—one that made his pulse stutter. ‘You know what I'm talking about, don't you?'

He nodded.

He didn't want just a
moment
either. But the implications of that were making his head spin, filling his stomach with a fear he just didn't want to name. The opposite of
temporary
was
permanent,
and he'd never really planned on ‘for ever' with anyone. He didn't know if he could do it even if he wanted to.

‘I think…I think there's something there between us, Cameron. But I'm not sure there's any mileage in it.' She nodded, more to herself than to him. ‘And I'm ready for mileage—for long distance.'

He wanted to say he was too, but after what he'd said about his previous relationships the words sounded a bit empty as they echoed round his head. Now he was getting desperate. And when Cameron got stuck in difficult situations he fell back on tried and tested methods.

He wanted to tell her about the life they could have
together, the life she deserved. All the best restaurants. And she wouldn't have to wear anything second-hand ever again. He'd buy her
haute couture
—the sort of thing other people would be bidding for at auctions in fifty years time. She would be the first person to wear the clothes that would be
tomorrow's
vintage. But he didn't say any of this, knowing he would be digging his own grave.

She looked very glum, resigned.

‘One evening—that's all I'm asking for.' For starters. Once he'd dazzled her, in true Cameron Hunter style, she would change her mind. She
had
to.

‘I don't want just one evening, Cameron.'

Her chest rose and fell, and she stayed silent for the longest time—as if she was inwardly struggling with herself. In the end she walked over and opened the living room door.

Once again he found himself in the position of wanting to argue back but not really having a leg to stand on. He didn't know if he was ready either, but he
wanted
to be ready. Surely that had to count for something?

‘Wait there,' she said, and disappeared upstairs. She returned a few moments later. But now she was in stripy flannel pyjamas and she was holding the green dress in her arms. She held it out to him. The tears were gone—along with most of her make-up—and she looked pink, puffy, and slightly soggy. Cameron wanted to kiss her.

‘Before you go,' she said, ‘I thought I ought to give you this. It's
your
dress really.'

‘But I bought it for you.'

She took a moment to think. He could tell she was doing that, because her forehead did a very characteristic crinkle and she looked at the floor. After a few moments she raised her head and looked at him, seemingly having reached some kind of decision.

‘I know you did.' She held it out to him. ‘But this isn't me. Not really. The woman who wore this dress tonight isn't the real Alice. This—' she indicated the flannel pyjamas ‘—is the real Alice. And she doesn't fit into your world. You'll see that in the morning,' she added. ‘You'll be thinking more clearly then.'

He knew that anything he said would just make her resist him even harder. He'd definitely underestimated this quiet determination of hers. It was as hard as diamonds. He took the dress from her, and she gathered up the shoes and placed them on top of it in his arms.

‘Please go, Cameron.' Her voice was barely a whisper as she stood there, not looking at him, holding the door wide. ‘I'm begging you. Just go.'

He couldn't bear the fact he was doing this to her, so he just had to do as she asked. But he felt as if he'd left a piece of himself behind when he walked out through the door. He was halfway down the street before he remembered his limo, parked across from Alice's house. His driver was fast asleep and he decided not to wake him. He'd give him an extra bonus to compensate for the ridiculous hours tonight. So, while Henderson snored softly, Cameron sat in the back of the car and watched as the lights went out one by one in Alice's house. He wondered which was hers.