The Reluctant Wag (7 page)

Merise smiled dutifully. ‘His lovely companion’ indeed!

‘Merise, you look absolutely magnificent. Who dressed you this evening?’

Now the mic was under Merise’s nose. ‘It’s a Carelle Magee gown,’ Merise said in a clear voice. ‘Carelle is undoubtedly one of Australia’s finest young designers. It’s a lovely dress, but also very comfortable to wear.’ She had to say something.

The presenter look surprised. Probably didn’t expect that I could string three words together, Merise thought.

‘And how are you enjoying your experience as the Wolves’ It girl?’

Merise thought for second, then said, ‘I’m not even sure what an It girl is, but it’s all so interesting and exciting, I love working with the club.’

‘And with the gorgeous Mr McCoy?’ prompted the interviewer.

‘Of course,’ said Merise. Keep it light, she told herself.

‘Well, there are a lot of glamorous ladies here, but I think you’ve just about stolen the show tonight, Merise. Don’t you think she looks amazing?’ Now the mic was waved under Cal’s nose.

‘You won’t get an argument from me on that,’ he said lightly. Then he firmly took her hand, nodded to the interviewer and made for the grand staircase leading to the function room.

‘Okay?’ he asked under his breath.

‘Holding together,’ Merise whispered.

‘You did pretty well. You’re a natural at this,’ he said giving her a smile of approval, just before a camera flashed in their faces yet again.

They were seated at a table with the Wolves management and leadership group and their wives and partners. Cal was kept busy all night with people coming up to him for a quick chat about one thing or another, but Merise didn’t feel left out. After dinner a band struck up and couples made their way on to the dance floor.

‘Shall we?’ said Cal, already on his feet and taking her hand.

‘Um, yes. No! I mean . . . I can’t dance, not like this, anyway,’ she said, watching the dancers glide or flit around the room in something that might have been a waltz or a quickstep, for all she knew.

He pulled her to her feet. ‘Everyone can dance. Just pretend no one’s watching.’ And a second later she was in his arms and he was sweeping her across the floor. Cal moved with powerful grace, and she found herself following him naturally, falling easily into step as if they’d done this a thousand times before. Now that she thought about it, it made sense that he could dance. He was an athlete – a master in the realm of the physical. He understood movement and he could command his body, and hers too, she thought, which was just as well. As the dance floor became more crowded he pulled her into his chest, wrapped one arm around her, and she felt his big hand span the small of her back. It seemed that her temperature rose ten degrees. It felt so light, so airy, so right to be moving in sync with this man, nestled in his arms.

When the music stopped she finally dared to look up at him. He looked straight back into her eyes, and she felt somehow exposed. ‘Enjoying yourself?’

‘Yes, it’s wonderful,’ she sounded somehow breathless, and she realised that he hadn’t released her; he was still holding her close, his arms still clamped around her. And it felt perfect.

‘Yes,’ he whispered close to her ear, ‘thrilling, isn’t it?’ and he pulled her even closer. She felt something inside her dissolve and she had to dig her hands into his arms to steady herself. She became aware of every line of his body – bone and muscle – and felt her own heart pounding against his chest. Surely he could feel that too? Sense the disturbance within her? But just then a little man tapped Cal on the shoulder and boomed heartily, ‘Cal McCoy! How ya going?’ and the spell was broken.

As they drew apart, Merise felt herself breathe more freely. She tried to clear her head. She didn’t want to think about the effect this man had on her – the power he seemed to have over her. She understood that the attraction was merely physical, and the power of that attraction was something she would resist, for her own sake. She was only human. What woman wouldn’t be dazzled by the sheer physicality of a man like Cal? And no doubt most of them would melt in his arms, then fall straight into his bed. That’s what he’d be expecting. He would consider it his due, and it would mean nothing to him. So she’d better keep a grip from now on, she told herself. She might be susceptible to him, but she wasn’t going to become another of his women, another of his cast-offs.

For the rest of the evening, as Cal was monopolised by one acquaintance after another, she chatted politely with the other guests at their table and before she knew it, it was midnight.

‘Time to go?’ Cal suggested as the waiters cleared away the coffee cups.

‘Yes, I’m just about ready to fall into bed.’

‘Indeed?’ His eyes lit up in mock excitement before she realised what she’d said and she felt her face flare.

‘Yes,’ she said very firmly, ‘I’m exhausted and these shoes are killing me.’

As they made their way across the upper foyer, Cal was hailed by a group of men. ‘Excuse me, I’ll just be a moment,’ he said.

She was standing looking over the gallery at the still-busy scene below when an older woman approached.

‘Hello. You’re Merise Merrick, aren’t you? I’m Nina Smally, chief football writer for the
Times.
’

‘Oh really? I’m delighted to meet you.’ Merise meant it – a real media contact at last! ‘I’ve been enjoying your articles. There aren’t too many women at your level in sports media.’

‘Thanks. I’ve been in the game – or at least on the fringes – for a long time, unlike you.’ She indicated Cal. ‘McCoy’s quite a project. They’re some of Australia’s top TV executives he’s schmoozing there. He certainly has them eating out of his hand,’ she said admiringly.

‘Yes,’ Merise agreed, ‘he’s quite a media performer.’

‘Oh, it’s more than that, dear. He knows the business inside out. He’s always had a flair for it, and of course he absolutely starred at uni.’

‘Uni?’ Cal had been to university?

‘Oh yes. He did his journalism degree at RMIT. A friend of mine runs the course; said she’d never had such a gifted student. He came out with a high distinction.’

‘Really?’ Merise felt herself shrinking and going puce at the same time.

‘Yes. He did it part-time – enrolled the year he started playing for the Wolves, and finished the year before last.’

Merise bit the inside of her gum. Cal had already achieved her life’s goal, and he’d done it as a mere sideline, en route to sporting glory. And when he’d overheard her remarks about his easy run in the media, he hadn’t bothered to enlighten her. He hadn’t explained that he’d put in the work and earned the right to have his voice heard. She felt herself seething with resentment. That was just like him – to let her go on making a fool of herself and all the time saying nothing. He was impossible!

‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d studied journalism at uni?’ she demanded once they were back in the limousine.

He looked coolly down at her and she felt utterly insignificant. ‘Why would I?’

‘Because . . . you just let me go on making a fool of myself.’

A lazy smile spread across his face. ‘That wasn’t my intention.’

‘Wasn’t it?’ He was so maddening!

He sat back and looked hard at her. ‘Do you really imagine I waste my time thinking up ways to get one over on you?

‘No, I . . . I meant . . .’

‘Frankly, I’ve got more important things on my mind,’ he dismissed. There was silence for a minute, then he added, ‘We obviously don’t hit it off, Merise. It always ends in a fight with us, have you noticed? It’s nothing personal, just a personality clash.’

‘Maybe.’ Maybe if he wasn’t such a . . .

‘Look, we don’t have to get on, we don’t have to like each other. We’re both in this for our own reasons. Let’s just accept that we don’t have a working partnership made in heaven. We can still make the best of a bad job, okay?’

‘Fine.’ But Merise was trembling with a mix of annoyance, frustration and something more that she couldn’t identify.

It’s pretty clear how things stand between us
, she was thinking when the limo pulled up at her apartment and Cal got out to open the door for her again.

‘Thanks,’ she said, rather subdued and feeling strangely deflated. But in the next second he surprised her. He pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth. Her hands were trapped against his chest and she tried to push away, but he only tightened his grip, one arm completely encircling her slim body, holding her to him. He cupped the back of her head in his other hand and deepened the kiss. Even as her unease grew, she couldn’t suppress her body’s response to his onslaught. Some visceral instinct took over as she angled her head, parting her lips to take in his thrusting tongue. She felt a rush of fire run through her body and she pressed eagerly against him.

She felt the passion grip him too, and her heart soared. She had him! Him! Their bodies locked together; that body that she’d desired, that she’d admired so intensely as she watched him move, displaying his grace and power.

Almost as suddenly as he began, he stopped, drew back and released her. She swayed slightly and stared up at him, uncomprehending – her mouth still open, her lips still red and swollen with his kiss. But all the heat had gone out of Cal’s eyes, and there was something strangely unfeeling about the way he said, ‘Just checking that there’s life on planet Merise. That’s as far as it goes. Don’t worry, I won’t trouble you again.’

She was so stunned that she remained standing on the pavement when the limo turned the corner at the top of the street.

She lay awake for a long time afterwards, upset and confused at the way he’d brushed her off. She had a right to be angry with him – to hate him even. But did she? Or did she . . . the word ‘love’ came into her head. She dismissed it. No – that was too silly. It was just something physical between them – some energy that sparked when they were together; there was no denying it. So many times tonight she’d wanted to reach out and touch his hand, or to feel his arm around her again. That dance – she’d wished it could go on forever, and at the same time, she thought it would never end, because she wanted something more from him, and he knew it. She knew what that kiss meant – that he could have her if he wanted. He’d been cruel to tease her, draw her in.

But that was just her body’s reaction, she told herself firmly. The rest of her – her brain, her common sense – told her to stay well clear of this man. She’d felt as if she belonged in the crook of his arm tonight, and she’d possessed him, if only for a brief moment. She wanted exclusive access to his heart, but Cal McCoy didn’t do exclusive. She would mean nothing to him. He had dozens of women fawning over him, women who just satisfied a temporary need.

He probably saw her as just another ambitious nobody, looking to hitch a ride on the coattails of his fame. She hated to think that’d he misjudged her so badly. She mustn’t let it upset her. It was hurtful, but she could handle it. Just one or two more shoots, Bev had said, and that would be that. She’d never have to see Cal McCoy again, ever. Yet somehow that thought made her feel so much worse.

She only half expected to make the papers the next day. There had been so many well-known people at the launch, and probably thousands of photos taken. But there, on the front cover of the
Tribune
, was a photo of Merise laughing into Cal’s face while he looked down at her with such intensity that she felt herself blush. There was no doubt about it, they looked like a couple besotted with one another.

She pushed the paper aside and lifted the
Times.
They were on page three, under the byline ‘Bringing Classy Back’ – Merise obligingly showing off the dress, as requested, while Cal stood to one side watching her with undisguised admiration. He played his part well, she thought bitterly. If only people knew. Although she was grateful that the photo didn’t tell the story of her very raw humiliation.

Her mobile buzzed. It was Erica.

‘Have you seen the photos?’ she practically squealed down the phone.

‘Yes. I’m going to die of embarrassment.’

‘Oh come on! You’ve got to be kidding, Mer! You look like a . . . a film star. It says here, “Merise Merrick is the hottest new star in the Melbourne modelling firmament. Her outstanding looks and the way she handled herself on the red carpet last night captivated all present. Wolves star Cal McCoy was clearly besotted. And who could blame him? This woman is all class.”’

‘What?’ Merise cried. ‘Where does it say that?’

‘Back of the
Tribune
sports section.’

Merise groaned. Two mentions in one paper!

‘What’s up? You did really well. You should get a bonus. It’s fabulous publicity for you and the club. And so romantic! He looking at you the way he looks at a footy when he’s lining up for goal . . . you know, all intense.’

Merise didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘You don’t understand, Erica – Cal and I don’t get on. He thinks I’m a dill. He won’t be happy when he sees these shots.’

‘Then he’s a great, stupid oaf and he doesn’t deserve you,’ retorted Erica hotly.

Merise had just put down the phone when Bev rang to congratulate her. SMO were also very happy and planned to capitalise by following up with a TV ad. It would feature Merise in the gym with the entire Yarraside team. She was dreading it. How could she look Cal in the eye with all the things that were being said about them, and after the way he’d spurned her? Would he think she’d be panting to see him again? One thing was certain – he’d be furious about the innuendo. He liked the focus to stay on the football, not on his personal life, even if it was all just speculation. Yes, she was certainly dreading seeing him again, but another part of her couldn’t wait.

Cal had played and replayed the newsreel of their grand entrance and their interview at the casino. It was thrilling and troubling at the same time. They looked good together, as if they were made for each other. He remembered the feeling of her in his arms. It had taken a superhuman effort to quench the quiver of desire that had flared in him. He’d almost gone too far last night. He could have had her – she’d been willing. What had stopped him? There was a real chemistry between them, but there was also a chasm that it’d be better not to breach, because he was beginning to think that whatever it was about Merise Merrick, she wasn’t just another woman.

The Yarraside gym was a great cavernous space, its walls lined with state-of-the-art equipment and hung with on-field shots of the club’s champions in action. Merise reluctantly followed Jay, Simon the photographer and Tim Kearns from SMO as they moved to the centre of the gym for the shoot.

All around them players were furiously working on their fitness as high-energy music pumped through the room. She could see players lifting weights, working on treadmills and bikes and stretching on floor mats. Through the glass wall on one side she had a view of the pools and the massage area. This entire space was a temple to the male body. And such bodies!

Merise tried hard not to look at the sculpted, bare torsos all around her as Jay fussed with her hair and Simon set up his lights and tripods. She managed quite well until
he
came in. She sensed him before she saw him, and she felt her body respond instinctively to his presence. There was a momentary pause in activity when Cal entered the gym, as team members registered his presence and greeted him. She deliberately didn’t look his way; instead she became suddenly concerned that she’d smudged her eye make-up and turned to Jay for help.

‘No, you’re right, darling,’ said Jay airily. ‘You’re just gorgeous,’ then lowered his voice, ‘but not half as gorgeous as
Captain, my captain
. Don’t look now – he’s just come in, looking absolutely divine. Be still my heart!’

Merise couldn’t help but laugh, which somehow eased the tension inside. She felt she was ready to look at Cal – but she was wrong. He was talking to one of the trainers, his hands on his hips, wearing only his shorts. He looked like a statue of a Greek god, only more muscular. She gulped and took a deep breath.

‘Best not to look,’ whispered Jay. ‘If you get any more heated I’m going to have to redo your foundation.’

‘Jay!’ she hissed, and developed an intense interest in Simon’s lighting umbrellas.

A few minutes later Simon was ready to begin the shoot and Tim went off to get Cal. Merise could feel her heart battering her chest as he walked towards them.

‘Hi,’ he said and she responded with what she hoped seemed like a distracted ‘hello’.

But then she couldn’t help it – she looked at him, he smiled, and something melted within her. It was at that very second, in that great space smelling of sweat and liniment, that she realised that she’d fallen utterly, hopelessly in love with Cal McCoy. It wasn’t just physical after all, it was the whole emotional deal. She craved his very presence. She wanted to please him, she wanted to care for him, and for him to care for her. That realisation came as a shock, and was even more upsetting than his being so close. It was something she’d sensed at a visceral level, but had never allowed to form into a conscious thought, until now, and it rattled her to the core. She suddenly understood just how deep her feelings were for this man, however different they might be as people. It was a sad realisation, because she was sure that any feelings he had for her were pretty superficial. And she only had herself to blame. She’d scorned his world, made it clear she’d wanted no part of footy or the fame that went with it. If he had been attracted to her at the start, he was probably over that now. He wasn’t the kind of man who had to beg for a woman’s attention. He’d have moved on. She barely heard Simon as he talked about the set-up, and woodenly followed his directions.

‘Okay, Merise, standing right there – between Cal, Troy and Ryan.’

She positioned herself between the three players – Cal pumping a small dumbbell in each hand, Troy bouncing on a mini-trampoline and Ryan pedalling on an exercise bike. But all she could think of was that she had to cover up the way she felt about Cal. Wasn’t it written all over her? She felt utterly exposed there with the camera continually flashing at her. Surely it would tell the truth.

‘Right, Merise, turn and look admiringly at one of the boys,’ Simon instructed, and she deliberately turned her back on Cal. Her eye fell on Ryan – a player who had only joined Yarraside that year. He was a handsome twenty-year-old, already the darling of the team’s teenage female fans. Merise had an idea. She fixed her gaze on Ryan and gave him the biggest, most adoring smile she could muster. Her face lit up as he smiled back and Simon snapped, ‘Yes! That’s it – good girl. Move closer now. Keep smiling, Ryan.’

‘No worries, mate,’ said Ryan obligingly as Merise moved towards him and draped herself seductively over the bars of his bike. What was she doing? Part of her was standing back, scrutinising her antics in a kind of horrified disbelief; another part was driving her on, shaken by the thought that Cal could see what she felt for him, and desperate to show him that he was mistaken.

She didn’t look his way for the rest of the shoot, flirting wildly with Ryan and even a little with Troy. By the time Simon was satisfied, the two young men were high on the exercise and apparent adulation. While Simon was packing up his camera gear, Ryan approached Merise.

‘Hey, you wanna go down to the café and get a Coke or something?’

‘Sure,’ she said impulsively, ‘that’d be great.’ But out of the corner of her eye she was watching Cal striding out of the gym.

It wasn’t quite noon and the café was almost empty when she followed Ryan to the counter. They got their drinks and sat down at the window overlooking the river. Ryan was quite a talker. He rattled on about his time at Yarraside, about the games he’d played and the things he’d done in Melbourne since moving there from a country town in Tasmania. She tried to pay attention, to nod and smile at appropriate times and to ask the occasional question. But her whole mind was fixed on Cal.

When had this happened? When had she fallen so completely for him? Was it the first time she saw him play? Was it while she watched him by candle light at the Spanish restaurant? Was it that night when he’d kissed her so ruthlessly? Or was it actually that very first day when he walked into Paige’s office and straight into her heart?

She felt totally miserable now as she sat there, pretending to listen to Ryan’s ramblings. What was she doing, leading this boy on? He was only a year younger than she was herself, but he was a lifetime younger than Cal McCoy, and that was what counted. How could she ever really look at another man after Cal? No one could ever compare to him, she thought despairingly.

And yet, she could never have him, because she was nothing to him. She was a pretty face – one of dozens who moved around him like dazzling satellites – but that was all she’d ever be to him, because he only had one thing on his mind, and that was football.

The café was beginning to fill up and as the door opened again she looked up. It was Cal. She wasn’t sure if he’d seen her, then he was immediately approached by a group of young boys clamouring for his autograph. She expected him to refuse, instead he smiled warmly at them and spent the next few minutes signing their caps and jumpers, answering their questions and laughing with them.

As they finally went off, delighted with their idol, Cal walked towards the counter and immediately spotted Merise and Ryan. His face fell. She felt somehow ashamed and lowered her eyes to the table. At the same moment, an old lady at the table next to hers called to Cal, ‘Hello, my darling. How are you going?’

Cal drew his eyes away from Merise and turned to the woman with one of his killer smiles. Merise felt an almost uncontrollable urge to run up to him, throw her arms around his neck and cling to him. How could she possibly bear not having him love her for the rest of her life?

He was talking to the old woman, bending down and holding her hand in such a gentle way. This was a side of Cal she’d never seen before. Was he really only doing it because the woman was a Wolves supporter? That was why he tolerated Merise, because she happened to strike a chord with the public and because she was good for the team’s image. Well, she’d made him think she fancied Ryan. Let him. That was a good thing. That way he would never guess where her heart truly lay. He must never know. He would think her foolish; he might even pity her, and she could never bear that. Better to have him feel indifferently towards her, and remember her as a great asset to the club’s marketing strategy, and nothing else.

And the sooner she could get out of this arrangement with Yarraside and never see him again, the better it would be for her sanity.

It was Erica’s birthday and Merise had offered to buy her lunch at a stylish Southbank restaurant. It was a sultry day and the girls sat on the terrace, overlooking the promenade beside the river, watching the passers-by.

‘This is great,’ said Erica. ‘The food’s beautiful and the view’s superb. Look – there’s Mia Guerrero – that new actress from
Neighbours
,’ she hissed.

‘Is it? I don’t know her, but I recognised Angela Zouzoulas and Dinny Rankin from
Breakfast
the minute we came in.’

‘Yeah, so many celebrities come to this place. I’ve always wanted to eat here.’

‘Me too. But I can only afford it thanks to Yarraside Wolves,’ Merise said with a wry smile.

‘And just think – you’ll always be able to afford this sort of thing. You’ll be able to have a great lifestyle if you keep modelling.’

‘That’s the last thing I want to do,’ said Merise, suddenly serious. ‘I’ve actually been thinking of giving it up now that I’ve almost got enough money to see me through uni.’

‘But, Merise, you could set yourself up for life if you just keep doing it on a part-time basis for the next couple of years.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t think I could —’ At that moment a shadow fell across their table. Merise looked up to see a rumpled, middle-aged man beaming down at her. He smelt of cigarettes and hair oil and Merise found herself recoiling.

‘Excuse me barging in, ladies,’ he said slickly. Then he leant towards Merise. ‘You’re Merise Merrick, aren’t you – the famous Miss Yarraside Wolves? I’d recognise that bone structure anywhere.’ He laughed loudly at his own remark.

She disliked him at once, and Erica pulled a face behind his broad back.

‘Er, yes,’ she said reluctantly, ‘I’m Merise Merrick.’

He held out a sweaty hand. ‘I’m Greg Bedford, editor of
Celebrity Watch
. Delighted to meet you.’

Merise had no choice except to shake his hand, but inside she was panicking. What did he want? An interview? A photo? The last thing she wanted was to be connected with the grubby rag that notoriously stalked the rich and famous. She stared coldly up at him. Erica was looking appalled.

‘I’ve heard something fascinating about you; I’ve heard you’re a journalism student,’ Bedford said.

‘Yes,’ Merise replied warily. She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t want to be seen with him. She didn’t want to be anywhere near this greasy shock-horror merchant.

‘Glad to hear that, because if you’re ever looking for work, there’s a desk for you at
Celebrity Watch
– guaranteed. You have a very bright future, young lady, and we’d just love to be part of it.’