The Collector's Edition Volume 1 (31 page)

F
OR
several moments there was a frozen tableau in the restaurant, not a sound or a movement except for the swing of the door that punctuated Wayne’s departure. It was as though everyone was holding his or her breath, waiting for what might happen next.

Regardless of her shocked daze, Lauren knew what would happen next. They would all look at her to size up what Wayne had put in their minds. She felt so hopelessly besmirched she wished she could shrivel up and die. She should move, run, hide, but she was bereft of the energy to carry through any purpose. Despite still being on her feet, she was completely knocked out.

“Right!” Michael swung around with a sharp clap of his hands, startling everyone. “That guy is a dangerous nut case. Waiter, lead us to your kitchen. I want a safe place for this much-abused lady until we’re sure her attacker is not coming back.”

In another blurring burst of action he scooped Lauren out of Evan’s supporting hug, off her feet, in his arms and cradled against his chest. “Evan, keep watch for us,” he commanded. “Clear a passage, people. Waiter?”

“This way, sir.”

With bewildering speed, Lauren found herself whizzed away from the peering curiosity of patrons, carried into a busy commercial kitchen and, amidst the fluttering concern of chefs and kitchen hands, lowered carefully onto a chair that someone quickly supplied.

“Now let me look at your wrist, Lauren,” Michael said with quiet authority.

It took her a moment to realise she was still nursing it. Very gently Michael pried it loose from her hold and ran tender fingers over the bruised flesh. She stared at his face, wondering if bad thoughts of her were festering in his mind behind the mask of human concern.

Action man. He was certainly that. She was intensely grateful to him for rescuing her from a horribly humiliating situation. And worse. If Wayne had succeeded in taking her with him. Her mind shied from following that train of thought.

What to do now? That was what she had to concentrate on. She tried to control the convulsive tremors that were still attacking her body with embarrassing frequency.

“Could be sprained but it’s not broken,” Michael assured her, gently laying her hand on her lap. “We’ll get an elastic bandage on it as soon as we can, Lauren.”

She nodded.

Evan came in. “One of the waiters is on watch, but I think the slimy toad has nicked off.”

“I should have landed him on a hard, dry rock to bloat up and die,” Michael muttered murderously.

“Oh, I think you put paid to him, Michael,” Evan said with cheerful confidence. “He won’t want a return bout.”

“He really needs that dirty, lying mouth of his smashed in, Evan.”

“Better to sue for defamation,” Evan advised. “Hits him where it hurts in the pocket, and you don’t get charged with assault.”

The import of their words seeped through Lauren’s daze of despondency. “You didn’t. you didn’t believe him?” she asked on a weak quaver.

Michael’s face creased to caring concern as he realised the depth of her distress. “Lauren, honey, when it comes to exes wanting to dig their claws in, that guy beats Roxanne hands down. You think I’d believe
him?
”

“Oh!” Tears welled in her eyes. The shame of having believed Roxanne against him. How could he call her honey? Dear heaven! She never cried, and here she was, out of control, making an exhibition of herself, and the tears wouldn’t stop. Her chest was so tight and. She had to get hold of herself. Had to.

But it was Michael who took hold of her, lifting her out of the chair and wrapping her in a tight embrace, supporting her in a cocoon of warmth and strength and tenderness as he showed his understanding in soothing words.

“You’re safe now. It’s over, Lauren. Just let me look after you. Okay?”

“Yes,” she said, sobbing. The want, the need to just cave in and wallow in being looked after was overwhelming. Someone fussing over her, caring for her, indulging her, fulfilling all her innermost desires.

“Your handkerchief, Evan,” Michael commanded.

“Here it comes, Lauren.”

A wadded cloth was shoved over Michael’s shoulder. Lauren snatched it gratefully and tried to mop up, but there seemed to have been a dam burst in her tear glands. There was this awful pressure in her chest.

“Better fetch Lauren’s bag,” Michael instructed.

“Right you are,” Evan agreed and seemed to be back in a trice. “Lauren’s room in the hotel is still booked,” he informed them. “That’s where the five o’clock call from Perth is to come through.”

“Fine. I’ll take her there. Fix up about the lunch we ordered, will you, Evan?”

“No problem. I’m hungry enough to eat the lot. Might take me up until five minutes to five to get through it all.”

“Good man,” Michael approved warmly. “Do you feel up to walking with me, Lauren? I’ll carry you if your legs are wobbly.”

“No. I can walk.”

“Big breath, and then we’ll set off.”

He was treating her like a child, but somehow she didn’t mind. She dragged in a big breath and
let it slowly shudder out. The pressure in her chest eased. She did more damage control with Evan’s handkerchief as Michael tucked her beside him for the walk out of the restaurant.

“We’ll go through the mall again. Quickest way to the hotel,” he said, holding her close for secure support.

It was also in the opposite direction to the way Wayne had gone. Lauren appreciated this consideration more than the distance factor. Not that she really feared bumping into Wayne again, not with Michael with her, but she’d prefer it not to happen.

Tears welled as they made their way to the back exit of the restaurant, shepherded there by kindly staff. “Sorry I’m such a mess,” she mumbled, dabbing at her eyes.

“You’ve been on overload,” Michael said kindly. “It’s not surprising you reached breaking point, Lauren.”

“But I’ve always coped.”

“First me. Then him. It was too much. Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Not a lot.”

“Did he go to your mother’s home after seeing you in the taxi?”

She looked up in wet-eyed astonishment. “How did you know?”

He gave her a rueful smile. “Sometimes when I put two and two together, I arrive at the right answer. I spotted you coming in this morning. You looked…harassed.”

“He stayed parked outside Mum’s house. Johnny, one of my younger brothers, had to smuggle me back to the hotel.”

So easy now to pour out the words. It was a relief to have Michael’s understanding, not to have to bottle it all up inside herself and carry on as though life was perfectly normal. Though at least the mall provided a sense of normality after the traumatic scene in the restaurant. The shoppers passed them by, intent on their business, not seeing anything to capture their interest in Michael’s and Lauren’s slow traverse of the walkways.

“Did you ever take a restraining order out on Wayne?” Michael softly inquired.

Again he surprised her with his comprehension of her situation. “Yes. But it didn’t do any good.”

“Hence your move from Melbourne to Sydney.”

“He wouldn’t let go.”

“Possessive and abusive.”

“Yes.”

“Your family couldn’t look after you?”

“My father died a few months after my wedding to Wayne. I’m the eldest in the family. Mum had enough worries, Michael.”

“And you didn’t want to add to them. You’ve had it tough, Lauren, going it alone,” he said with gentle sympathy.

It triggered more tears. She was turning into a regular waterworks. “Thanks for standing up for me.”

“I was glad of the chance to show you I wasn’t a total write-off.”

She blew her nose, took a couple of deep breaths and realised they were almost through the mall. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that, Michael,” she said carefully. “I just had other things on my mind today.”

“A lot of baggage. Which I added to. Am I forgiven for thinking badly of you?” he asked quietly.

“Well, you obviously don’t believe I’m some heartless playgirl any more.” She mustered up an ironic smile. “Am I forgiven for thinking badly of you?”

He gave a wry little laugh. “That was definitely my fault.”

They emerged from the mall, stepping out onto the open paving in front of the hotel. The afternoon had turned grey, and Lauren remembered that rain was forecast. Pots of cyclamens in the garden boxes provided bright splashes of pinks and purples and reds, but not even their intense colours could dispel the bleak onset of a wintry evening.

The cold Melbourne wind snapped at them. Lauren shivered and huddled closer to Michael as they headed for the entrance to the hotel. Suddenly the warmth and comfort of a trusted friend and confidant took on more intimate dimensions and sensitivities.

Lauren found herself acutely conscious of hips and thighs touching, a heated friction where their bodies bumped and rubbed, Michael’s arm slanting across her rib cage, brushing against the underswell of her breasts, holding her to the hard wall of his chest.

The image of his naked body flashed into her mind, the muscular power of it exciting her, pleasuring her, driving her to exult in her femininity, pleasuring him. That one wonderful night of making love together. so very much together. as they were now. or seemed to be. Could she believe in it? Did dreams really come true?

Her heart skipped and started to swing like a hard-beating metronome between caution and desire. Remember Wayne and Roxanne, caution insisted. But they were the past, and why should she let the past shackle her forever? She had a fierce desire to fly free, leave the baggage behind. She wanted to embrace all that could be, should be. Or was that blind faith in a future that wasn’t ever truly possible?

Michael was taking her up to her hotel room. Evan was not joining them there until five o’clock. She’d heard them arrange it. Had Michael been thinking.?

No, he wouldn’t try to force her, wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want.

So what did she want?

M
ICHAEL
stopped by the concierge’s desk. “Miss Magee has an injured wrist. Would you please send someone out for an elastic bandage and a bottle of witch-hazel or whatever else eases bruising? We’ll be in Room 404.”

“Certainly, Mr. Timberlane.”

“On the double, Henry.”

“All speed, sir.”

It reminded Lauren that Michael was a very wealthy man. “I guess you’re used to the best service,” she remarked as they proceeded to the elevators.

“I’m known in many places,” he answered offhandedly.

“Like what?”

“I do quite a bit of sitting in various boardrooms to get things done for those who don’t have the means to cover their needs.” He slid her a whimsical smile. “I’m called a friend.”

He might share his wealth in many places, but he was a very private man, Lauren decided, not given to splashing it around in public or showing off. It was interesting that he was focused on people in need. She wondered if that was a tradition in his family or a personal choice?

With her acquiescence, he took her room card from her bag and operated the elevator. A few minutes later she was comfortably settled in an armchair in the privacy of her hotel room and Michael was ringing for more service.

“Two of your soup of the day, a basket of French fries and a bottle of your best chardonnay. Room 404 I’ll be very appreciative if you get that to us as quickly as possible.”

Lauren wondered if those were the code words for a big tip. When Michael took charge, he was certainly master of the situation. Very impressive. He had not only a natural command that people responded to but also a quick eye and mind for effective and efficient organization. Lauren had no doubt he was very highly valued as a friend in all those boardrooms.

Michael Timberlane made things happen.

Lauren mused over this insight as he moved on to fixing her a cup of coffee. For most of today he had taken a passive role, but she realised now he had simply been biding his time for an appropriate opening to pursue what he wanted. It gave Lauren a very warm glow to know that he wanted her so much, fighting for her, looking after her, taking care of everything for her.

Or would he have done it for anyone in need?

Lauren suspected he would have. It was in his nature to stand up and be counted on whatever he felt strongly about. And he didn’t give up, either.

He might have acted on pure principle, but his smile, as he brought her a cup of coffee, felt very
specifically for her. “You have more colour in your face now.”

It wasn’t surprising, with some of the thoughts she’d been having. “Thank you, Michael. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

The smile turned into a wicked grin. Once again it had a heart-stopping effect on her. “I aim to keep you thinking that, Lauren,” he said, his eyes dancing with hers with intimate intent, “because I don’t want to do without you.”

She stared at him, totally besotted for several moments.
Yes,
she thought decisively, I
want to know more of this man. I want to know everything about this man.
And not on any hearsay this time. All of it would be on direct, personal, first-hand experience, with every chance he offered her.

The door buzzer demanded attention. Michael answered the summons and returned with a packet from a pharmacy. He pulled a chair close to hers and set to work on her bruised wrist.

“Why did you marry Roxanne?”

His gaze flicked up, his eyes scanning hers sharply before lowering again. “I thought we could make a go of it.”

“You weren’t in love?”

He finished spreading ointment over the tender flesh and started winding on a bandage before he answered. When his reply came it was as though he was choosing his words with care, wanting to give as accurate a picture as he could.

“Roxanne made herself very attractive to me. We were both from a background of wealth, from
longstanding families. There was a commonality of understanding on many grounds. I wanted to get married. I wanted a family. She pandered to my interests at the time and led me to believe she cared about the things I cared about.”

“But she didn’t, really.”

He shook his head. “Roxanne wanted me, but she didn’t love me. I thought I loved her. I wanted to love her. But as her pretences wore thinner and thinner, I couldn’t.” He fastened the bandage with a plastic clip, then looked directly into her eyes. No hiding. Clear, soul-piercing truth. “I never felt with her what I’ve felt with you, Lauren.”

It was there, pulsing between them, the memory of all they’d felt that night. And it wasn’t a dream. It had been real, special, unique for both of them. They could reach for it again.

The door buzzer announced the arrival of room service. It broke the intense flow of emotion between them. Michael moved to let the waiter in. A table was wheeled into the room and quickly arranged for them, the soup and French fries set out for their convenience, wine uncorked and poured into glasses, chairs placed precisely and a handsome tip paid to speed the waiter’s departure.

Michael lifted a plate cover. “Pumpkin soup. Should slide down easily,” he encouraged. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“Some toast this morning.”

“Try. You need it.”

She ate the soup, half a bread roll, a few French fries, and did feel better for it. The chardonnay was
perfect for washing it all down and leaving a pleasant aftertaste. “Had enough food?” Michael inquired.

“Yes, thank you. It was good.”

He nodded. “Why did you marry Wayne. what’s his name?”

“Boyer.”

“Of Charles Boyer fame?”

“Same spelling. Different family.”

“He looks like an actor.”

“He’s done some modelling. That’s how I met
him.
He was used for a book cover. His family owns a string of dry-cleaning shops and laundrettes. He helps manage them for the most part, and that ties him to Melbourne.”

“You fell in love?”

She grimaced. “Let’s call it blind infatuation, with the emphasis on blind. Wayne can be very charming, very flattering, very ardent. I was a lot younger then and I fell like a ton of bricks. I didn’t see what was coming.”

“Which was?”

“He wanted an adoring servant. Only his needs counted.”

Michael gave her an ironic smile. “Sounds a bit like Roxanne.”

“Wayne had four older sisters and a mother who’d spoilt him rotten. I didn’t have a chance of making him see differently. He threw tantrums and he was violent whenever he didn’t get his own way.”

“So I noticed.”

“He doesn’t like losing, Michael.” She heaved a despondent sigh as the feeling of sick fear took hold again. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about coming back to Melbourne again. Getting beaten this afternoon will really stir him up. If he starts pestering my family…”

“Don’t worry. I’m more than a match for the slimy toad. Didn’t I prove that to you this afternoon?” He rose from his chair and stepped around the table to take her uninjured hand in his, pressing gentle reassurance as his eyes burned steady conviction. “I won’t let him hurt either you or your family, Lauren.”

She stood up, lifting her hands to his chest as she anxiously revealed her experience. “He’s so devious and malicious. And a very convincing liar when he’s put on the spot. You saw that, Michael.”

His eyes glistened with compassion. “It must have taken a lot of courage to set your own course and keep to it.”

“More desperation than courage. Though there’s really no knowing where or how he’ll hit next. There’s no sure defence,” she cried, the anguish of her fear and frustration echoing through her voice.

“He won’t hit again. I’ll look after you, Lauren.”

“Michael.” She looked helplessly at him. “Even the police couldn’t keep him away.”

“I have more resources than the police,” he said, and once again his face was transformed by the wicked grin that defied the world and rejoiced in a freedom that knew no fear or boundaries.

She shook her head, dazed by his confidence and the sheer blazing brilliance that bathed her in it. She didn’t comprehend how he could stop Wayne from pursuing a vindictive vendetta, yet she felt the weight lifting from her heart, and her mind tingled with hope.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” she said. A black belt in karate was all very well, but Wayne didn’t play fair.

“I promise you, no-one will get hurt.” He stroked her cheek in a soothing caress. His eyes compelled her to believe him. “I learnt how to look after myself a long time ago. I
can
look after you, Lauren. And I shall.”

“I…I don’t know what to say.” A brittle laugh burst from her throat. “I’m the one who’s always done the looking after. It’s.”

He pressed a soft, silencing finger to her lips. “It’s your turn. Let the fear go, Lauren. Trust me.”

“Yes,” she whispered, wanting to.

His eyes simmered into hers, his silver irises softening to a smoky grey as he tilted her chin and lowered his head. She had the chance to say no if she didn’t want his kiss. The truth was she yearned to taste it again, was breathlessly waiting for it.

His lips brushed hers, softly, sweetly, building a sensation that reached deep inside her, coiling itself around her heart, sliding through her stomach in little rivulets of pleasure, tingling down her thighs. Her mouth opened to his enticing warmth and tenderness, the languid caress of his tongue more
thrilling than passion. He cared about her. He truly did. And she loved him for it.

The feeling burst from her heart and filled her response to him, her arms sliding around his neck, fingers thrusting through his hair, bringing his mouth more thoroughly, more vibrantly to hers in an explosion of intense excitement and exultation because the magic was there again, richer than before, more powerful, the throbbing pulse of togetherness thrumming wildly through their bodies.

“Lauren.” It was a groan of need, his lips still hot and moist on hers as he struggled for breath, for control. “We don’t have enough time,” he rasped. “Evan’s call.”

It pierced the delirium of happiness swimming through her mind. “Sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he said gruffly, forcing himself to pull back, his eyes stabbing an urgent plea past the passionate daze in hers. “Please listen, darling.”

Darling
…How wonderful that sounded! “Yes?”

“I need the address where your mother lives.”

She didn’t understand why but she gave it.

“Now I won’t be flying back to Sydney with you, Lauren.”

“Oh?”

“I have important and urgent business here.”

“I thought you came for Evan.”

“Yes. But something came up last night, and—” he smiled ruefully “—Evan doesn’t need my protection.”

“So you have to stay.” She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“Two days. No more. Then I’ll be back in Sydney.” His eyes pleaded for her patience with compelling intensity. “Promise me you’ll be waiting. That you won’t let anything turn you away from me.”

That was easy to give. “I promise.”

A sigh expelled with force, followed by a smile that encompassed her in a blaze of desire.

The door buzzer heralded Evan’s arrival.

“I’ll leave you with Evan to do the Perth call, but I’ll be back to accompany you to the airport and see you safely onto your flight. Okay?”

“Yes. Thank you, Michael.” Her eyes adored him.

“Thank you.” Husky happiness.

One last brief kiss, a seal of their promises to each other.

Lauren watched him go to the door to admit Evan. Surely nothing could go wrong between them now. The bond was there, the sharing she’d dreamed of, the understanding, the trust, the sense of belonging.

Yet she could not entirely banish the spectre of Wayne and his potential for evil nastiness. Michael didn’t know him as she did. However strongly the cloud with the silver lining beckoned to her, promising an end to the darkness lurking in her background,
she knew Wayne could not be dismissed as easily as Roxanne could be.

She could not help being afraid that Michael was underestimating Wayne’s capacity to damage and destroy. Underestimating Wayne was dangerous.