Anna Cleary - Do Not Disturb

‘Don’t go. Stay a minute. I want to—talk to you.’

He didn’t touch her, but it was as if an invisible arm had reached out and grabbed her by the scruff. There was no resisting. She turned to face him, eye to eye, and since he was the one asking her embarrassment over being caught subsided a little. She gave a stiff nod.

‘Sit down.’ He indicated a handsome chesterfield with deep cushions. His black lashes flickered. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

‘No, thanks.’ She allowed herself the glimmer of a smile. ‘I’m working, aren’t I?’

He smiled, raising his eyebrows, and she had a sudden vivid flashback to her vodka afternoon. The first time she’d succumbed and broken her pledge. After that, her solemn childhood promises had fallen thick and fast. Enslaved by her sexual sorcerer, she’d have drunk hemlock if she’d thought it would make her his equal in sophistication.

To her relief he didn’t allude to her youthful indiscretions. He strolled over to his drinks sideboard. ‘Do you mind…?’

She shook her head, gestured for him to go right ahead. She was the last person to dictate to others after her spectacular fall from grace.

He poured himself a whisky. ’Sit, sit.’ He waved his hand in an autocratic gesture, directing her towards the sofa, and she made the wary concession of perching on the edge.

He dropped into a chair across from her, leaning forward a little, his long, lean fingers wrapped idly around his glass. Fingers that had once been familiar with every curve and hollow of her body.

She faced him, her old partner in crime. In passion.

‘So…do you feel—settled into the firm?’ His glance sank deep, and she could feel the old pull. That magnetic attraction that sparked up her blood and made her heart quicken with excitement. So dangerous, so addictive.

She felt his gaze drift over her, flick to her legs, and her sexual triggers responded with shameless willingness. Even after everything, something inside her switched on to preen and revel in his appreciation.

She shrugged. ‘I’m settling in. Everything seems to be going well enough, I suppose, though to be honest I wish I could spend more time on my own work.’ She glanced at him from under her lashes. ‘I’m really looking forward to my own office.’

‘Ah, yes.’ His eyes veiled. ‘How’s it going with Patterson? Helping you find your feet?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ She nodded, smiling to herself as she thought of Ryan’s wry words of advice on everything a girl needed to know on how to survive at Martin Place Investments. ‘Ryan’s been fantastic. Nothing’s too much trouble for him.’

Beneath his black lashes his eyes glinted. ‘Fantastic. Tell me about you. How’s life?’

Did he mean at work, or personally? She doubted he’d be interested in her father’s health situation. Her social life, perhaps? Ah, no. She got it now. None of the above. Long after their year of living dangerously, he wanted to know if she had a partner. A lover.

‘Things are fine with me,’ she said. ’Splendid.’

‘Splendid? ‘ He lifted his brows.

‘Absolutely.’ Well, she was hardly likely to tell him she hadn’t been very successful in that regard. That she’d noticed in herself a regrettable tendency not to be able to hold onto a boyfriend. Possibly because she found it quite hard to open up. Her legendary passion must have been letting her down. Curiously, for one of her renowned temperament, they found her too—self-contained. Inhibited, one had complained.

‘Anyway, I finished my degree and—’

His eyes glinted. ‘Yeah, I’m sure I read that. Well done.’

She flicked him a narrow glance. Was he mocking her? At the time she’d known him he was juggling several part time jobs so he could pursue his ambitions, while she deferred her own education, reluctant to tear herself away from him, greatly to her family’s concern.

How they’d stressed over it. The nagging she’d endured.

‘Where did you say you studied?’

‘Brisbane.’

He lifted his shoulders in sardonic amusement. ‘As far away as possible from Joe Sinclair.’

‘No, not at all,’ she said, flushing, though of course it was true. ‘That was the best course of its kind available at the time. Anyway, it was after the…after we—broke up.’ She mumbled the last few words.

‘Not long after, though,’ he dropped in, searching her face.

‘No.’ A nerve jumped deep in her visceral region. He was sailing close to home. Someone should warn him to take care. There were things he wouldn’t want to know.

There was a jagged pause, then she said, ‘Well, anyway, I decided science as a lead-in to medicine wasn’t for me after all and found the job in the bank. It was only ever meant to be temporary, but to my surprise I found I had quite an aptitude for it.’

His brows edged together. ‘For finance?’

She nodded, wishing he didn’t have to look so dubious.

‘What’s your plan?’ he said. ‘Your ultimate goal?’

‘Careerwise?’

‘Of course. What else?’

She gave him a wry look. What else indeed?

‘Oh, well,’ she said glibly, as if she weren’t a twenty-eight-year-old woman with twenty-eight-year-old eggs in her ovaries. ‘I’m aiming for the stars. Managing Director of a firm like this one would seem like a good jumping-off point.’

His sexy mouth twitched and she realised with some irritation he felt amused by her grand, audacious vision. Possibly his masculine ego felt challenged.

‘Anyway, as I said,’ she finished, ‘I’m doing fine, or I will be once I can flex my muscles. What about you, Joe? I can see you’ve arrived.’ She swept an admiring glance around her. ‘This is quite—breathtaking. Not bad for a boy who was expelled from two high schools.’

He sipped his Scotch. ‘Not quite what your family would have expected, I dare say.’

She put on her bland, non-committal face. Mim certainly hadn’t expected him to do well. A solid pillar of the church, she’d made her feelings crystal clear on the subject of that wild heathen Joe Sinclair at every opportunity. Her father hadn’t had so much to say, possibly because he was in the dark about her mad love affair, dreamily going about the business of caring for people, never knowing his beloved daughter had plunged in to navigate the treacherous reefs of passion without a compass.

Aware of having pushed her close to a raw edge, Joe lowered his lashes, careful not to glance too long at her breasts, though it was a wrench. His eyes drifted to her mouth. Was she wearing lipstick? Her lips had always been naturally rosy, plump and ripe as cherries, and sweet. Sweet and fresh, like none he’d tasted since.

His mouth watered with a sudden yearning and he realised he was being ridiculous. Of course she’d tasted sweet. She’d been young, as the captain was so quick to point out, as he, Joe, had been himself. It was highly unlikely she’d still have that effect on him. Though it would be interesting to find out.

‘You look very well,’ he said, smiling, his pulse quickening with the stir in his blood. ’Still live with your old man?’

Mirandi felt his glance sear her. ‘Not for a long time.’ Their eyes clashed, then disconnected as if some electrical collision had thrown out sparks.

‘Ah,’ he said. The chiselled lines of his mouth compressed. He gazed consideringly into his drink, his black lashes screening his eyes, then he said, ‘Was it hard to make that break?’

‘Everyone has to do it sooner or later. Grow up.’

A silence fell. The air in the room tautened while the wounds between them flared into life.

His eyes scanned her face. ‘And have you? Grown up?’