Save the Last Dance (37 page)

For years he'd managed to evade this sensation. He'd made sure everything he did and everything he built was designed to eradicate it. And now Alice was telling him he was
wrong
for having done that.

Even though it was Sunday he went to the new offices and stomped around a bit, made some phone calls and barked at people. Not that there were many people around to bark at. He had to go hunting, and then he found only cleaners and people from the staging company removing the last of the evidence of last night's festivities. It was all very unsatisfying. But slowly his anger cooled, leaving him with only a dragging feeling that made him think unaccountably of the tree at the edge of the cricket pitch at his old school—the one he'd climbed up to hide in when Fitzroy and his gang had been on the prowl.

Alice had delivered her verdict. He had to deal with that.

That afternoon and most of that evening he pondered what she'd said. And in the end, no matter how painful the admission, he'd had to admit she'd been right—partially.

He'd been so busy creating a perfect front to present to the world he'd forgotten it was just that—a front. And in his stu
pidity he hadn't paid nearly as much attention to the man inside the iron shell. Nobody else questioned it. Everyone else saw the hype he'd created about himself and was deluded by it. But not Alice.

The man she'd met again a few weeks ago hadn't been ready for a real relationship. He'd been proud, arrogant, completely up his own backside. But she'd changed all that. He wasn't that same man any more. Why was that? What had she done to him?

The answer popped into his consciousness like a random fact suddenly remembered—like when you racked your brains for an answer to a general knowledge question that you knew you knew but just couldn't recall. Then, days later, it would come out of the blue, while you were doing something mundane and totally unrelated, and you'd wonder how you could have forgotten it when the answer had been obvious all along.

He loved her.

He loved Alice. Every molecule of his being vibrated with it and he knew it was true—just the way he knew the earth was round, the battle of Hastings had taken place in 1066, and the tallest mountain in the United Kingdom was Ben Nevis.

And now he
knew
that he knew he loved Alice, he also knew that he was ready to stand by her side for the rest of his life. This was gut knowledge, not a flimsy scientific theory that would be disproved by the next bit of research. The certainty of it was like a rock inside him.

Ironically, he wasn't sure Alice was ready to hear it.

He wasn't the only one who was battling with a pursuing fear.

I've been hurt too…

Her words came back to him. Who had hurt Alice? Who could possibly hurt her?

Alice was sure what he felt for her wasn't going to last, so
he was going to have to show her. And the only way he could do that was by being patient, by letting time drift on and gently showing her he hadn't changed his mind, that he still felt the same way. And if it took a hundred years, so be it.

 

The next morning Alice went to bring the milk in and found a large paper bag on the front step. A large bag that smelled of warm, buttery croissants and fresh coffee. She picked it up carefully and looked around. There was no sign of Cameron, just a black car driving away, almost out of view at the corner of the road.

There was a note inside. Short, to the point. Very Cameron.

Also very cryptic. He was going to
appeal
? What did that mean?

An identical bag was on the step the next day, and the next…Alice began to dread going to bring the milk in. On the sixth day she just got angry and left it sitting outside. What was he trying to do to her? Wear her down? Drive her insane?

If that was the plan, it was clearly working.

And she was angry with him. Very,
very
angry with him.

How dared he make her love him even more when she was so desperately trying to get him out of her system? It just wasn't right.

After three more days of the bag sitting on the step—and Alice giving very strict warnings to a hopeful-looking pair of
housemates that they were dead meat if they touched it—there were no more deliveries. No more notes. No phone calls. Not even a text message. No more Cameron.

He'd given up. Just as she'd thought he would.

Now she hated him for proving her right.

Really hated him.

J
ENNIE
breezed into her stepbrother's office and blew him a kiss. ‘The place looks fab,' she said, then perched on the end of his desk.

Cameron dropped the folder he was holding and stood up. ‘Where on earth have you been for the last month?' he bellowed.

She waved an elegant hand. ‘Vegas…Here and there…'

Here and there? Give him strength! She'd abandoned him when she was supposed to be helping him with a key point in his career, and now she just wafted back in here as if nothing had happened? And what about this whole
eloping
thing? He'd been so worried about her he'd even toyed with the idea of hiring private detectives to find her. But she seemed fine to him—sitting on the edge of his desk, squashing a report from the marketing department. More than fine. He wasn't sure if he wanted to drag her into a bear hug or wring her neck.

Brotherly concern triumphed over outrage. He circled the desk and came to stand in front of her, looked her over for any sign that something was wrong.

‘You're okay? Nothing's the matter?'

She gave him a bright smile. ‘Absolutely fine. Haven't you noticed the wonderful tan? Got it in Acapulco.'

That was so Jennie. He'd been worried about her emotional well-being and she thought a great tan was evidence enough that things were all right. He gave her a rough squeeze and found he couldn't let go. She might drive him insane, but he was really glad to have her back.

She laughed into his ear. ‘Hey! Are you okay, Cam? You're on the verge of turning python here…'

‘Sorry,' he mumbled, and loosened his grasp. After giving her a gruff kiss on the top of her head, he stepped away.

Jennie narrowed her eyes and looked at him. Despite her flighty nature, she could be horribly perceptive sometimes. He decided to sidetrack her, as he didn't want a whole barrage of questions about the ball. Questions about the ball might lead to questions about Alice, and he wasn't sure he wouldn't give himself away.

After more than a week of coffee and croissants he'd realised that even that had been
pushing
, and he'd stopped. But doing nothing was killing him—even though Alice had made it clear she needed space. He was fed up with spending all day thinking about her, so when a thought popped into his head, providing a distraction, he latched onto it and looked his step-sister in the eye.

‘So…where's this guy, then?'

She blinked innocently at him. ‘What guy?'

He could still rethink the whole neck-wringing idea…

‘The one you married?' he said, with just a tiny trace of impatience in his voice.

For a second Jennie looked bleak, and then the bright smile was back in place. She made a dismissive noise and gave him a delicate shove in the chest.

‘Don't tell me you bought
that
old chestnut!' Then she started to laugh—right about the same time as Cameron's
blood pressure began to rise. ‘Really, Cam, you take things so literally sometimes!'

‘Jen,' he said through clenched teeth, ‘a message on my voicemail saying, “Sorry, hon. I'm off to Vegas to get married”, combined with your sudden disappearance, would tend to make a man think that way.'

‘Something's up with you, Cameron Hunter, and I want to know what it is.' It seemed he wasn't the only one who was good at using distraction techniques. She hopped off the desk and eyed him suspiciously. ‘You've gone all soft and mushy.'

Hah! Soft and mushy? Try telling that to Stephanie. He'd been so unbearable in the last week that he almost expected to find her hiding under her desk every time he walked past it.

‘It's Alice, isn't it?'

What…? When…? How did she
do
that? How did she see into his brain and know the things nobody else could see? He could have understood it if they'd been twins, or something, but they weren't even blood relations!

‘I hear she did a good job in my stead—that you worked very closely together.'

The smile was sweet as honey. It was the one she used when she thought she might be pushing things just a little bit too far.

‘I always thought she'd be much better for you than the likes of Jessica Fairly-Loves-Herself, or whatever her name is. So…' She leant forward and her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘How are things going between you and the lovely Alice?'

Cameron flexed his knuckles.

‘That well, huh?' she said in a dry tone. ‘What did you do?'

He walked round his desk and dropped into his chair. ‘I didn't do anything. I'm still not doing anything…' He launched
into a bullet-pointed rundown of the whole sorry affair while Jen pulled up a chair and for once looked sympathetic, instead of like Little Miss Know-It-All.

‘She says she wants to be someone's first choice,' he said finally.

Jennie reached across and stroked his arm. ‘Nice cufflinks,' she said, looking down at where his sleeves protruded from his jacket. ‘Unusual stones.'

He just nodded. He hadn't worn anything else since the night of the ball.

Jennie's voice was low and soft. ‘
Is
she your first choice?'

Cameron clamped his jaw together and nodded one more time.

‘Oh, Cam,' she whispered, and came round behind him to give him a hug over the top of his office chair.

He stared into space and tried not to let the pain show in his voice. ‘Seems I'm not hers, though.'

Jennie's arms squeezed a little tighter. ‘I bet you are. In fact I've become a bit of a gambler since my break in Vegas, and I'd lay good money on it. You just need to prove it to her.'

He rolled his eyes. ‘I've tried that.'

Jennie let go and gave him a soft clip round the head.

‘Ow!'

‘Not
your
way, you daft man! I could have told you
that
wouldn't work.' She walked over to the window and stared out into the atrium. ‘Hmm. I might just have an idea, though—although it'll take a little setting up…'

Cameron put his head in his hands.

God help him.

 

Three weeks after the fashion show Alice and Coreen signed a lease for the first ever Coreen's Closet boutique. Initially
they'd been interested in one of the tiny shops that fringed Greenwich Market, and one had become available. It seemed that thirty pounds apiece for frilly white baby clothes that would ultimately get covered in pureed carrot had not been Annabel's best business idea. Her children's clothes shop had closed down a few days after the Orion ball.

The success of the auction that night had been astounding. Coreen and Alice had been inundated with e-mails and phone calls, asking when and where they were going to be selling their merchandise. People seemed happy to part with obscene amounts of money if the label or the fabric was right.

They were now going to open their shop on College Approach, one of the roads in central Greenwich that surrounded the market and was full of chic little boutiques. The plan was to still keep a section of the shop that appealed to their loyal market customers—funky retro clothes for good prices—but to expand the high-end section of the business, stocking designer labels from yesteryear and becoming a place serious collectors and fashionistas would seek out.

After they'd signed all the paperwork, Coreen convinced Alice to go for a drink in one of the local cafés. ‘Who cares if it's only one o'clock in the afternoon?' she said. They'd done it! Gladys and Glynis need never fear the elements again!

Alice smiled and nodded, even though she didn't really feel like it.

All her dreams had come true. She'd left her IT business behind, passing it on to a friend of a friend who was happy to pick up new clients, and she was starting a new chapter in her life. One where she was her own boss, where every day would be filled with fabulous clothes, glitz and glamour. That was what she told herself every hour on the hour, anyway. Sooner
or later it would work, and she would cheer up and remember how happy she was.

The café was busy—a favourite with local office workers on a Friday lunchtime—but under the hum of conversation there was a tone, a hint of a voice she recognised. She turned from where she was sitting on a stool at the bar, waiting for her table, and scanned the room. Just as she found the face she recognised, he turned to look at her.

She hadn't seen Paul in months, and despite the fact she'd been really sore that he'd dumped her she'd hardly even thought about him during the last few weeks. He gave her a nervous smile. Alice's gaze drifted a little to the right and she saw why. The dark-haired girl he was sitting with must be Felicity. It was hardly an easy situation.

But, to be honest, she really wasn't bothered.

Paul leaned towards his new girlfriend—well, his
old
girlfriend, really—and said something in a hushed voice. She glanced up at Alice, then nodded at Paul, and kept a sharp eye on him as he got up and headed for where she was sitting at the bar.

‘Hi, Al.'

She smiled at him and discovered she didn't even have to fake it. ‘Hi, Paul. How are you doing?'

He shot a nervous glance back at his table. ‘Oh, you know. Fine.'

Alice looked him up and down. Nope. She couldn't remember what she'd seen in him. Not that he wasn't okay-looking, in a very ordinary sort of way.

‘You look different,' he said. ‘Nice.'

Did he
have
to have that faint edge of surprise in his voice? She did look nice today. Ever since she'd had to think about nicer clothes to wear to Cameron's office she seemed to have
discovered her own style—the old, comfortable clothes she loved mixed with a bit of vintage. Today she was even smarter than that, having had official business to attend to. She wore a forest-green jacket and a full knee-length skirt with a large funky floral print. Coreen had even produced a pair of green shoes from her famous wardrobe to match the jacket.

Paul squinted and rubbed the bridge of his nose. She'd found that quite endearing once.

‘I…uh…just wanted to check there were no…uh…hard feelings.'

Something struck Alice, and she decided she did want one last thing from Paul after all. ‘Paul?'

‘Uh-huh?'

‘Do you mind if I ask you something?'

He looked at her suspiciously. ‘Depends what it is.'

How did she put this without sounding too nosey—or scary?

‘Why did you decide to go back to Felicity? Really?'

Paul shuffled a little, and she could tell he was just about to say something very neutral to placate her.

‘Come on, Paul. You owe me at least this.'

He pulled a face and looked over his shoulder at Felicity. ‘I suppose I do.'

When he looked back at Alice she sensed he'd lost all notion of palming her off with a platitude.

‘Well…I don't quite know how to say this without feeling a bit mean.'

She waved a hand. ‘Honestly, I don't mind. Just spit it out.'

He blinked. ‘It's not just your clothes you've changed, is it? Well, okay…You're a great girl, Al, really nice and everything. But you never once looked at me the way
she
looks at me.'

‘Oh.' That wasn't what she'd been expecting at all. ‘How
does
she look at you?'

Paul looked over at his girlfriend again. He caught her eye, and instantly Alice saw her whole face soften and come alive.

‘Like she means it,' he said, without looking back.

 

Like she means it.

Alice couldn't get Paul's words out of her head. Late that night she lay awake in bed and tried to make sense of them. She thought of the way Felicity had looked at Paul. Had she never even once shone like that when
she'd
looked at him?

No. No, she hadn't.

Because she'd never felt that deeply for Paul, never felt he was her sun, moon and stars the way Felicity obviously did. She'd never felt that way about any of the men she'd been out with, not even with Tim, her first real serious relationship. She'd been devastated when he'd gone off with one of her friends without so much as an apology. But when she thought back on it now it seemed more that the rejection had stung rather than losing the man himself. After Tim she'd lowered her expectations, decided to play in her own league.

But that hadn't helped either. They'd still left. And for the first time Alice considered that maybe she'd had something to do with that.

What if all of them, like Paul, had sensed that she'd
settled
for them? Because she had. She'd only been fooling herself when she'd pretended she hadn't. They hadn't been the fantasy, but they'd been attainable—or so she'd thought. She'd kidded herself that it had been good enough, close enough to love to last. Only she hadn't fooled anyone but herself. Without exception her ex-boyfriends had moved on to girls who thought they were ‘the one'. Some of them were even married with kids now.