Читать книгу Marriage Make-Over - Элли Блейк, Ally Blake, Ally Blake - Страница 11

KELLYISM:

YEARNING FOR A MAN WITH WHOM TO SPEND YOUR TIME?

GET A HOBBY INSTEAD!

BY SIX the next morning Kelly was up at the front of her kickboxing class. She had almost become used to picturing her mother’s disappointed face on the punching bag and to have Simon’s face there in its place felt like a huge step backwards.

But it was enough to put extra vigour into her kick. She spun on her left heel and her right foot caught the huge bag precisely in the centre, sending a satisfying zing up her leg.

The capability to kick the sense out of a perfectly docile leather bag had been her saviour and a much more affordable option than the therapy her mother had offered to pay for. Twice a week for five years had kept her fit and kept her mind clear. You couldn’t mope and achieve the addictive endorphin rush at the same time, so she’d had to give up one for the other.

Kelly jogged on the spot, working up a sweat and a new appetite to take on Simon’s assertions head-on. The more ammunition she had, the better her column would be. She had found at least one wonderful woman to feature this week, and she knew that Simon’s insensitivity to the delicate nature of a woman’s heart would be obvious in comparison.

Kelly slowed to a light bounce. Class was over. But a few last-minute punches to a point on the bag about six feet off the ground did not go astray.

Kelly hopped off the tram and walked the block to the melon-coloured two-storey stuccoed building that held the offices of Fresh magazine. It was her first full day as a real staff writer at Fresh.

The world was a good place. One or two minor irritations could be brushed over as long as she had the job of her dreams, a forum from which she could spread the word. Be fearless. Be resolute. Be heard. And whatever else, be who you have to be.

She pushed open the glass doors that led to the front reception and all but gasped as she saw Simon leaning on the reception desk.

It was bad enough having to face him in his apartment when she’d had time to prepare herself, but him showing up in her place of work shocked the hell out of her. Besides, he was dressed down in a form-fitting white T-shirt, jeans and cowboy boots, and he looked unbelievable. It was too much to cope with all at once.

Upon Kelly’s arrival, Judy, the receptionist, stopped batting her eyelashes at Simon at once, leapt from her swivel chair and disappeared into the office behind her.

‘What are you doing here?’ Kelly snapped, her eyes darting about the open space to see if anyone was within hearing distance. ‘Apart from flirting with my coworkers, that is?’

Simon’s eyes narrowed and Kelly wished she had learnt the ability to keep her trap shut. She was learning that telling it as it was in print was one thing, but thinking before speaking could not be overrated.

‘We had not finished our conversation when you ran off yesterday,’ Simon said.

‘I did not run off. I left. Something you should recognise since you are such an expert at it.’

He didn’t even blanch. Pity. Standing there before her all manly and gorgeous, with all that healthy glowing tan, was entirely too disconcerting.

‘Besides, I had said all I wished to say to you.’ Kelly tilted her nose in the air and walked past Simon on stiff legs. ‘Now please leave. Anything else you have to say can be said through a lawyer.’

Simon shot out a hand and took Kelly by the arm. His hand was warm beneath the steely strength, and it felt so deliciously familiar. Familiar. She looked down at his hand. It was large and square, with clean clipped fingernails. But it was not soft like that of a man who worked in an office all day. It was lightly roughened from outdoor work as it always had been. So, beneath the city-worker exterior there were hints of the Simon who had lived his life in the sunshine, who did not stop working on his beloved boats until the weak moonlight made it impossible.

‘You really have changed,’ he said, all but mirroring Kelly’s thoughts.

She shot him her steeliest glare. ‘You said that already.’

‘It’s just that it hits me anew each time I see you.’

His coarse grip softened but did not let go. He ran his unfathomable hazel eyes over her, taking in every inch of her that was so different. And she was glad she had made a concerted effort that morning.

Her hair was ironed straight and hanging sleekly past her shoulder blades. But as his gaze raked over it, long where it had once been pixie-short, she could almost feel his craving to reach out and stroke its silky length and she fought the urge to rake it back into an unexciting ponytail.

Her lashes were lathered in their usual black mascara, her cheeks were dusted in a shimmering pink, and her lips were awash with pale rose gloss. Her tight black top was held together with a small clip at her belly and fanned out again to reach the top of her skirt, showcasing décolletage, what cleavage she could muster, and belly, which were flushed with bronzing powder. Her skirt, which was black and pencil-thin, stopped just below her knees and she wore pointy black stilettos.

It was the outfit of a magazine chick, a woman with great self-assurance, and no fear. An outfit Kelly had chosen to get her through the most important day of her life so far. An outfit she had not seen as daring when wearing it in offices staffed mainly by women in similar garb, but standing there under Simon’s unashamed scrutiny she felt half naked.

‘I can’t get over how different you look.’

Kelly knew it too. She looked worn-down, thin.

His gaze finally raked back to hers and her breath caught painfully in her throat as she waited for him to say so.

The enchanting creases slowly, slowly, deepened in his smooth cheeks as an intimate smile lit his handsome face and he said, ‘You are beautiful, Kell.’

She blinked to cover her shock. He had never called her beautiful before. Cute. Adorable. Sexy. But never, ever beautiful.

Only then did she realise with utter astonishment that it was not disappointment or guilt resting heavily in his piercing hazel eyes, but desire. And in complete disregard for the consequences she felt herself leaning into his magnetic pull, being drawn deeper and deeper into his beautiful, longing gaze. Her breath released on a deep sigh and its message was loud and clear. The libido that had reawakened only the day before was up and running full steam ahead. She was turned on beyond measure.

‘Kelly?’

She blinked, rocked back onto her stiletto heels, and turned to the dismembered voice. Maya was standing in the open doorway to the offices, with Judy hovering behind her. Maya looked curiously from Kelly to the man seated nonchalantly on the desk at her side with one hand wrapped possessively around her arm.

‘What are you up to all the way out here, my sweet?’

Simon released his grip and stood, and Kelly knew he was moving to introduce himself. And the last thing she needed was to be shown up as a fraud on her first real day at work. Her world clicked back into focus.

‘This is Simon,’ Kelly shouted, drawing all eyes her way. ‘Simon of St Kilda. He is here to be interviewed for my next column.’

Maya’s eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘Well, well, Ms Rockford. You are a revelation. How on earth did you find this fellow and so quickly?’

Yes, how? How? How on earth? Anything but the facts. Her frantic mind tumbled over the possibilities and came up with…nothing.

‘A woman should never reveal her sources, her secrets, nor her deepest desires,’ Simon filled in the deep silence. ‘Wasn’t that a Kellyism from a couple of weeks back?’

Maya nodded, impressed. ‘I see you are a true connoisseur of our Kelly’s column.’

‘I have read it with great personal interest.’

‘Glad to hear it. I will leave you two to it. Bleed him dry, Kelly. I have a feeling about this one.’

Maya winked at Simon and left in a sparkling silver wake and a wash of expensive perfume, with a madly blushing Judy hot on her heels.

Kelly had gathered her wits and purposely funnelled her tension into sharp anger. She pointed to the front door. ‘Now go!’

‘Can’t. I’m being interviewed by a hot new writer.’

Simon sunk his hands into his jeans pockets, whistled a merry tune, and walked around Kelly and into the offices. She was left alone, pointing to the front door, feeling certain the emphasis on hot was not accidental.

When she caught up with Simon he was wandering through the open-plan room, the eyes of every woman in the place overtly following him. He received a few inviting smiles, a couple of assertive hellos, and even a wolf-whistle from the graphics department.

He turned to Kelly. ‘Which one’s yours?’

She pointed to her tiny desk and suddenly wished she had not made herself so at home so soon. Simon took a seat and pored over the photos stuck to her monitor.

Photos of her last birthday party, with her sitting at the old wooden table in her apartment, surrounded by Cara, Gracie, and other tenants, with sponge cake and cream all over her face. Photos of her cuddling Minky on her single bed. And a more staid photo of her last Christmas, sitting on her parents’ huge leather couch by a ridiculously large tree decorated in elegant silver ornaments. Kelly nibbled on her thumbnail and watched as Simon caught up on her life over the past five years.

Simon looked beyond the family shot and grabbed the one of Minky. ‘Is she…how is she?’

‘Scruffy and spoilt as ever.’

‘Missing me?’

‘Not any more.’

He did not glance her way though she was sure he had got her message loud and clear.

‘And your parents?’

‘Painful and…painful as ever.’

‘Missing me?’ He looked up with this question, his expression playful.

This brought a curious smile to Kelly’s face. ‘More than life itself.’

The smile stayed. Five years before, any mention of her parents would have started a fight. They had warned her from the start that he would be like his mother and flee at the first sign of hard work in a relationship and he had never forgiven them for it. And when he had left they had lived for months on ‘I told you so’.

But now here was a Simon who could ask after her parents with a smile on his face, in self-deprecation. Wonder of wonders.

As he put the picture back he bumped the mouse and stared as Kelly’s monitor changed from a star field screensaver to the shot of a crystal-clear ocean with a beautiful white sailing boat bobbing imperiously atop it.

It was the brochure shot of their boat. The one they had spent their brief passionate wedding night aboard. She rushed to her desk and clicked open a Word file, the blank white page obliterating the offending picture.

‘So, where do you want to start?’ Kelly asked.

Simon dragged his eyes from the computer screen, his look filled with questions Kelly did not dare answer, even to herself.

‘You said you were here to be interviewed so we may as well go through with it.’ Kelly made herself busy fluffing about in her filing cabinet until she found the letter. It was crumpled from a moment of wrath when she had rolled it into the smallest ball she could, stomped on it until flat, then shoved it at the very bottom of her rubbish bin. Eventually reason had made her iron it out with her hands but it still looked worse for wear. She could feel Simon’s smile as he saw the paper.

‘I was picturing your face as I did it,’ Kelly said quietly, knowing there were a dozen pairs of ears trained onto their cubicle.

‘I figured as much. So what would you like to ask me?’

Kelly leaned against the cubicle wall, arms folded, as Simon twisted and bounced on her chair. There was no way out of it now. Maya had seen him. She would have to grab a couple of lines for the column to take the edge off Maya’s curiosity.

‘Okay, then. Why do you think you know any more than I do about…?’

‘Love?’ he finished for her in a voice so low and reminiscent of the nights he would whisper such words in her ear by bonfires on the beach.

‘Mmm.’ She could not bring herself to say the word.

‘I don’t claim to know any more than you do. I think I know about exactly the same amount.’

‘Ha!’ She scoffed so loud a couple of female heads turned her way, their eyes alight with interest.

‘You disagree?’ he asked.

‘I’m the one asking the questions here,’ she said through clenched teeth, her glance darting about the room.

‘I have a question for you,’ he said, happily ignoring her protest. ‘Where’s your ring?’

He reached out and took her left hand, toying with her bare ring finger, encircling, stroking, caressing from the tip to her sensitive palm.

Kelly’s gaze rocked back to him, startled. She knew which ring he meant. She yanked her hand away and rubbed at the spot that tingled with the memory of wearing the ring Simon had given her. Such a short time. Such a long time ago.

She shrugged. ‘I haven’t worn it in years. And I’ve moved so many times since then…who knows? Gone for all eternity, I suppose.’

He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. His gaze had lowered to her squirming hands so she had no idea how her answer affected him. But it had affected her to her very core. It had dredged up memories and feelings and associations with another time when he had held her left hand with such intimacy.

‘So if you’re the one asking the questions,’ he finally said, ‘come on, then. Ask away.’

Her mind froze. The only other question she could summon at that moment was: Do you feel the same overwhelming and downright frightening sense of sense slipping away that I feel every time we are within touching distance of one another?

So, knowing that was the last thing she wanted to share with Simon, she stood and grabbed him by the hand, dragging him through the room, past a dozen interested onlookers, and into the tearoom, which thankfully was empty.

‘I don’t think this is going to work. I have your letter. That’s enough for me to come up with a perfectly good retort.’

‘Surely I deserve a heads up. I said in my letter that I believe love is alive and well out there. What do you have to say about that?’

She still held his hand. She made to pull away and his free hand put a stop to that, closing over hers so that it was entirely encased in the strong warmth of his grasp.

Kelly was sure she had plenty to say but at that moment her throat had closed over and her pulse had quickened to a rate of knots. She shook her head to clear the indefinable fog that was dampening her perfectly good rage.

‘Simon, just go, please.’ Her voice sounded far away.

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘No. I did not come here to be interviewed, Kelly, you know that.’

‘So why are you here?’

Please tell me. Whatever the answer, I have to know.

He closed the gap between them so quickly Kelly did not see it coming. His warm, strong hands pulled her to him before reaching up, framing her shocked face as he leaned in to touch his lips to hers.

For a moment Kelly was able to resist. Stunned as she was. But only a moment. Then, with a shuddering groan, her open mouth yielded under his warm, persuasive skill.

Simon’s beautiful lips tempted her own apart and a hundred distant memories burst to the surface with the unexpectedness of a lightning flash. She could all but feel the hot sun of five years before burn upon her neck as his kiss deepened and enticed and sent melting hot flushes the length of her body.

She stole her hands around his shoulders to bury her fingers deep into his soft hair, the silky sensation so familiar and so missed all these years. One of Simon’s hands followed suit, sliding around to bury itself deep within her tumble of silky hair just as she had sensed him longing to do all morning. His other hand stole around her back, the heat from his fingertips scorching through the thin synthetic fabric of her top. It curved lower, and lower until he cupped her bottom.

Then, having wrapped her up tight in his solid embrace, Simon pressed his body to hers. He was muscled where he had once been lean. And even with the changes to her own physique he fitted as if he had been carved just for her.

And the one blaring thought that managed to seep through her whirling, foggy, out-of-control mind was that she ached to know every single one of those changes up close and personal.