Save the Last Dance (36 page)

She'd said he'd see sense in the morning, and maybe he would. Until then there was nowhere else he wanted to go. Not even with the whole city at his feet.

 

Alice had had a thoroughly disgusting night's sleep. When she'd finally been able to drop off she'd spent the whole night terrorised by images of random things waltzing through her subconscious—jewel-coloured dresses, doner kebabs, and shoes. Lots and lots of shoes.

Cameron had pushed her too much last night. Too much too soon. And the only thing she'd been able to do to give herself some time and space to sort all this out was to push back. She knew he thought he meant what he was saying, and she so wanted to believe him, but…

The street lamp across the road flickered off now dawn was breaking. The orange strip of light she'd been staring at on her wall disappeared.

Cameron was not a good bet. He was a relationship magpie, and she wanted a future—with a man who wasn't always going to be scanning the horizon for something better. She didn't need a high-flying playboy who got bored easily.

No.

She was being unfair to Cameron, thinking about him like that. He wasn't heartless. But she didn't think he was ready for love and commitment. When she'd said she didn't want just ‘a moment', she'd seen the doubt written all over his face. Not that he'd ever say so; he'd rather die than admit he was deficient in any way. His pride wouldn't let him. And while he kept feeding that pride, while he
needed
to be Cameron Hunter, software developer and millionaire bachelor, while he needed to keep proving himself, he'd never be ready. She'd never be enough for him.

She breathed out and stared at the ceiling. No woman could
ever
be the perfect being he was hunting for. The knowledge gave her an odd sense of relief, and she rolled over and hugged her pillow, wondering if she'd be able to doze off now she seemed to have settled a few things in her own mind.

Her room was directly over the front door, and slowly she became aware of a gentle but very persistent knocking.

There was no hope Matthew or Roy would answer it. They never emerged from their rat holes until well after midday on
a Sunday. But Alice was fed up with being the only one who did anything in this house, and she decided she wasn't going to haul herself downstairs to answer the door, but would open her window and just yell down at whoever it was to clear the hell off. It was eight o'clock on a Sunday morning, for goodness' sake. All civilised people were asleep or at the very least indoors at this time of day.

She lifted the catch on the window and shoved the sash upwards, ignoring the drips of condensation landing on her head.

‘Why don't you just—?'

Another drop of water hit her just behind her left ear as she stared into Cameron's upturned face. He didn't smile at her, just indicated the large paper bag he was holding with a nod of his head.

‘It's morning. I'm seeing things more clearly. Can I come in, please?'

Alice just continued to gawp at him. Had he really taken what she'd said so literally? She was too surprised to argue with him, and discovered, despite her earlier rebelliousness, that she wasn't about to have a shouted conversation with him from her window so all the neighbours could hear. She'd seen a few curtains twitch already.

She shut the window, tiptoed downstairs and opened the front door. Cameron pushed the package in her direction.

‘I brought you breakfast,' he said.

It smelled heavenly. Without looking inside she knew it was warm buttery croissants and strong coffee. Just what she'd have fetched for herself if she'd thought about it. She didn't say anything—just led the way to the kitchen.

He was still wearing the same clothes as last night. That dark suit…But the tie with the hidden pin-up was missing,
and the top button of his shirt was open, making him look even more devastatingly sexy because now he had a slightly dishevelled un-Cameron-like appearance.

But he smelled the same. Of aftershave and fresh cotton. Possibly the most intoxicating scent ever.

All the memories of being pressed up against him on the balcony came flooding back, and when Cameron placed the package on the counter and pulled her close for a kiss she didn't have it in her to push him away.

It was even better than she remembered. Better because now it didn't just feel as if it was something she'd dreamed. He was here, in her kitchen, and he still wanted to kiss her. She wanted to hope, she really did, but the thought of him looking at her as Paul had done the night he'd dumped her squashed any lingering optimism flat.

She ended the kiss and stepped away from him, clasping her hands behind her back lest they get any funny ideas.

‘I don't see how anything's changed since last night,' she said. ‘It was only a few hours ago.'

He set about unpacking the croissants and coffee, getting plates and knives. He'd even brought butter—real, unsalted French butter.

‘I've been thinking,' he said. ‘About what you said. But you can't just push me away without giving me a chance. I won't let you.'

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her,
really
looked at her. All of a sudden it wasn't Cameron the big-shot businessman looking at her, but an unsure boy, full of fire and doubt and insecurity.

Not fair.

She could resist the armour-plated persona, but not this…

The backs of her eyes stung. He had her heart already.
What more did he want from her? To play with it for a while? To try it on for size to see if it fitted? No way.

The ‘old' Alice, the Alice who had let Paul use her as his personal doormat, would have gone along with whatever the man in her life said in an effort to please him. And there was no doubt that pleasing Cameron at this present moment would reap some very rich rewards for herself too. It would be so tempting to just fall into step with him, to live a charmed life for a while, but ‘new and improved' Alice—the Alice who had appeared in the last couple of weeks since she'd started working with him—who liked to push back against him, just wasn't ready to lie down and surrender.

Maybe because more was riding on this. She'd never felt this way about anyone else before, not even when she'd been running around after the men in her life, doing everything in her power to convince them she was worth staying around for.

Why had she never thought to ask herself if
they
had been worth the effort? She'd foolishly just pursued her dream of finding someone to love her without asking if they were capable of it.

This time she needed to know.

Because if she was just going to be Cameron's ‘stopgap', until somebody better came along, she couldn't bear it. If she watched his interest fade while she ran herself into the ground trying to convince him otherwise, if he appeared one day with a sheepish expression and told her there was
someone else
, she would never recover. She couldn't stand thinking about him with someone else after he'd been with her. For the rest of her life she'd torture herself with images, thoughts of Cameron looking deep into some other woman's eyes as he had hers last night, of Cameron's hands on the curves of someone else's body. She had to protect herself.

She drew in a breath to steady herself, and was surprised at the way her body shuddered as she did so.

‘Cameron…we just can't be together. We're from different worlds.'

He had it in him to dig his heels in hard, and she prepared herself. He was going to fling objections at her, and she was going to have to bounce them right back.

‘Don't be daft. Your brother almost married Jennie. We were almost related once. Your parents are still on my mum's Christmas card list, for goodness' sake.'

Alice's shoulders sagged. She was just going to have to try another tack. But he just mowed down every roadblock she erected against him until she felt desperate, trapped. After half an hour of fending him off, both of them still firmly entrenched in their positions, Alice was exhausted and Cameron was rapidly losing his cool. Just as she thought she only had enough energy left to flop onto a stool and cry into the kitchen counter, an adrenaline surge hit her and she came out fighting.

Cameron watched her march to the back door and then march straight back again. Her breathing was fast and shallow, and he suddenly realised she was right on the edge of coping with this whole situation. To be honest, he wasn't far behind her. They were getting nowhere.

He'd never really seen Alice angry before—worked up, exasperated, but never shimmering with rage as she was now as she paced around her poky little kitchen. This wasn't going to plan at all. He'd been hoping to placate her, to make her see sense, but with every word that came out of his mouth she'd just hardened herself further and further.

‘Give it to me straight,' he said, running his hand through his hair. He could take it—he hoped. ‘Tell me why you won't agree to even one date. I just don't understand.'

She gave a dry laugh. ‘I bet you don't. But I've got news for you, Cameron Hunter. There are some things you can't buy, and I'm one of them.'

‘I don't want to—'

She flung her hand wide, sweeping past the bag full of breakfast things that neither of them had touched. ‘What's all this, then? And how about the dress? You think that you can click your fingers and everything will fall into your lap. But I'm not going to be yours just because you've made some spur-of-the-moment decision that I should be.'

Where was she getting all this stuff? Was that really how she saw him? Or was this just desperation talking?

Alice's pacing had brought her close to him, and he reached out and gently pulled her into his arms. For the longest time he just held her there, feeling her warm breath against his shoulder. And then, when he felt some of the tension released from her shoulders, he pulled back to look at her.

‘I thought you knew me, Alice,' he said softly.

The stillness that followed, the sadness, was worse than her pacing and heated words had been. She reached up and touched his face, her eyes wet.

‘I
do
know you.'

The last of Cameron's defences slowly slid into a jellified heap. Standing before her now, looking into her eyes, he felt as raw and unprotected as he had the first day the bullies had jumped on him.

His voice was patchy and low when he finally managed to speak. ‘This is all new to me. I don't
do
this. I don't do begging. Why do you think I'm here on your doorstep on a November morning? I'm begging you to give me a chance.'

She looked so horribly torn he wanted to pull her back into his arms and pretend he'd never let the words out of his mouth.
Her eyelashes swept downwards and back up again, and one slow tear rolled down her cheek.

‘You don't know how hard it is for me to say this…' She bit her lip and took a moment to regain her composure, pressing her mouth into a crinkly line and crumpling her chin. ‘I'm an ordinary girl and I belong with an ordinary guy. You…you always need the best—of everything. And I'm really not sure I can ever be that for you. Oh, maybe you'd think that for a couple of months, but…'

He opened his mouth to deny it, but she pressed a finger to his lips.

‘Even if by some miracle I could be that for you, I've come to the conclusion that maybe—' Her voice cracked and she went very still. ‘Maybe you're not the best thing for me. I don't think you're ready, Cameron. I don't think you've got it in you to give me what I need.'

The tears were slipping down her face now.

‘I so want to be wrong, but I don't think I am.'

He started to speak, but she silenced him again.

‘I know you're growing, learning, but I've been hurt too. I can't take the risk. It's all or nothing with me, and I'm sticking to my guns this time. I won't settle for anything less. I won't settle for second best.'

He felt his jaw clench under her touch.

‘You're calling me second best?'

He'd thought he had a lot to offer a woman, and he'd offered Alice even more than he'd realised he had, and she was still telling him it wasn't enough—
he
wasn't enough.

She hung her head. ‘I'm calling it how I see it, Cameron. I'm just telling you the truth.'

He felt his anger like a physical heat. Even Alice must feel it radiating towards her. And then he turned and left. It was
the only thing he could do to stop himself losing it completely. The front door banged so hard behind him it bounced open again.

He was livid. Maybe because it was easier to be rip-roaring angry than feel the rawness her words had caused.

Alice didn't think he was good enough.

She'd declared herself judge and jury and sentenced him. Completely unfair. He hated this feeling—had
always
hated this feeling—the sense that he'd been held up to some invisible measuring stick that he could never quite catch a glimpse of and been found wanting.