Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Gabe sat in his hotel room in Sydney and ruefully laughed about the plans he’d made only a couple of weeks ago about coming here and having some seriously debauched nights on the town. Had he honestly thought he could sate his sexual appetite with a one-night stand? The idea of sex with a stranger left him cold—and flaccid. He pulled out his phone and went online. Pointless given she didn’t have any kind of a phone, let alone a computer. So he did a search to find clips from Blades’ shows. Naturally some fan had uploaded the Blades’ on-pitch performance from the first week. He watched it. Watched it again. After three replays knew exactly when each shot of Roxie was with her long, slender legs lifting and her hair wild and her cheeks flushed and her smile huge. Roxie dancing only moments after he’d been pawing her in the corridor. The sexiest woman ever.
Not so flaccid now.
He might have dated a couple of dancers before, but he’d never been reduced to watching vids of any woman over and over. He pushed the button so the screen went black. Lay back on his bed, the phone pressed to his chest. He hated that she’d not said a word this morning. That she’d used him. He had more to offer her than that and he wanted her to realize it, want it, accept it.
Only now distance brought doubts. Had he imagined the warmth and caring in her return embrace? He needed to know her emotions were as entangled as his.
He sat up, frustrated with his impotence. Surely there was something he could do? He glanced at the phone in his hand and smiled at the obvious. He scooped up his wallet and hotel keycard, thankful that the shops in this city were open all hours.
Roxie worked late at the shop, avoiding the emptiness back at the Treehouse. She knew the science of it. The way humans were programmed to respond to a prospective mate. Women the world over—regardless of their culture or background—displayed the same available signals to the potential male—innate, instinctive, unstoppable. So why wasn’t she having any of those normal responses to any of those other guys? There were a ton of them in that stadium, several were gorgeous, certainly virile and fit. Couldn’t get fitter. And yet there was none of that softening deep inside; she didn’t catch herself giving any a second look. Hadn’t been compelled to. Not that she’d been compelled to with Gabe. He’d been the right guy in the right place at the right time, that was all. There was nothing any more special about him than anyone else. Right?
But then there’d been this morning. And there’d been nothing scientific about this morning. It had been all terrifying, out-of-control magic.
So she was relieved he’d gone away. She had time to remember her goals for her future—to travel and be independent. A free spirit with an unencumbered heart.
Finally she walked home, bypassing the heavy machinery that had trucked into the street some time during the day— diggers making mud and noise as they replaced broken waste water pipes. She understood the need, since the earthquakes that had decimated so much of the city, the repair and renewal work had been intense and it had taken so, so long. She’d got off relatively lightly—her home mostly okay, her workplace mostly okay, so she wasn’t going to complain about the roadworks now.
She went through the garage, planning to go straight upstairs, except she was drawn to the Treehouse. It looked sad somehow, as if it knew it was empty. Even the windows seemed sad. Then she realized that was because the one at the front was on a lean—sagging towards the tree. She put her head on an angle; it didn’t help. She reached for her keys and opened up. Walked into the main room, to that window nearest the tree. Three quarters of the way there, the floor creaked alarmingly. She could see the tipping angle of the floor with her bare eyes. Under her weight it actually sagged an inch more.
She jumped back to a more secure part of the room. Oh, that could not be good. She raced outside again. She didn’t need a spirit level to be certain that corner of the house had sunk. She couldn’t believe it—not when it had survived all those earthquakes. Why was it crumbling now?
She looked up at the three-quarter-century-old branches and then down at the roots. She didn’t know how bad it was yet, but she already knew she didn’t have the money to fix it. She went back to the gift shop and called an engineering firm. They sent an engineer first thing next morning. She stood beside him, trying to keep a grip as he did his assessment. The foundations had gone. The tree roots had rotted, causing a giant hole beneath the house. It was possible the vibrations caused by the heavy machinery out on the road had exacerbated the rapid sink, but it would have happened soon anyway. And if it wasn’t fixed, the whole house could come crashing down.
Roxie looked up at the branches—the thing that gave the house its beauty, its point of uniqueness, was the thing that would ultimately cause its destruction.
The engineer apologized as he explained—especially when she asked how much repairs could cost. He promised to send another engineer for a second opinion, but for now he was classing it as unsafe— uninhabitable —until the remedial work was done. Roxie’s blood froze as she processed the info. Uninhabitable meant she’d lose Gabe as her tenant. Which meant she’d lose her income. The engineer left a brief report for her then and there. Black inked words leapt off the blinding white page—extensive, damage, cost...
Anger surged. She’d fought so long and still been defeated—in everything. She turned to the garden she’d tended for so long in the hope it could help her grandfather. But it had ultimately failed her too. The tall, fruitful plants mocked her, growing so strong when there was nothing left in her life. Furious, she lashed out with her bare hands. She tore the nearest tomato plant, swearing when the leaves ripped through her palms. She clawed until the whole thing was out, leaving a square of bare brown earth. She stopped, breathlessly stared at the small empty space that had been exposed.
Yeah, that was better.
Gabe frowned as the taxi drove alongside the park; there was something different about Roxie’s place. When the car pulled over he saw the problem clearly. The hedge had been cut so there was a wide path through. He sprinted along it.
‘Roxie? What’s going on?’ He stopped, shocked, as he got to the garden.
‘You’re here sooner than I expected.’ She clattered down the stairs from her studio in crazily high heels and met him with a smile, her hair flicking round her face. Only her eyes weren’t sparkling to match.
‘What the hell’s happened?’ Gabe all but gasped. She carefully brushed her hair back behind her ears. He saw a long thin, scratch on the back of her hand. ‘The vegetable garden was too big. No potential buyer would want it like that.’
Gabe still couldn’t breathe. ‘Potential buyer?’
She nodded blithely and stepped closer in her pretty dress. ‘I’m selling.’
‘ What? ’ His heart stopped altogether.
‘It’s the right thing to do.’ She smiled. ‘I should have worked that out sooner.’
He stared back at the neatly turned over, empty soil— every abundant bed now completely cleared. She’d ripped out that entire magnificent garden. It was all gone. ‘Oh, Roxie, what have you done?’
‘Tidied up.’ She laughed as if his reaction was over the top. ‘It’ll be bought by a developer anyway and the place will be skittled.’
‘ What? ’ Now his heart raced, thudding so hard in his ears he couldn’t be sure what he was hearing—or what he was seeing.
‘It’s okay,’ she reassured, sounding all confident. ‘Take a look at the house.’
He stared at her instead. Because it wasn’t okay. She could smile as much as she liked but she was never going to get him to believe this was okay.
She didn’t fill the silence he left for her. Instead she waited and finally he turned and saw an official notice taped on the door. He’d seen a ton of them in the months post-earthquake. ‘Why have they stickered it?’
‘The foundations have gone,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘It’s sunk already. It could fall down any time.’
He could see the worst spot now, right by the tree. ‘Foundations can be fixed.’
‘Not this time.’
He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe she was acting so calm when he knew, he just knew she was being eaten up inside. He whirled to face her, to look into that too perfectly made-up face. ‘You don’t have to sell it.’ She really didn’t.
‘I can’t afford to fix it.’
He coughed away the tight feeling in his throat. ‘What about insurance?’
She smiled again, that awful smile that was nothing but a meaningless twist to her mouth. ‘There is no insurance, Gabe. We couldn’t afford it. I was only working sporadically because?—’
She broke off, but Gabe knew why already. Because her grandfather had been sick and she’d been needed at home with him here.
‘There’s no insurance for the car, the house or the contents and I don’t have any savings.’ She still wore that synthetic smile. ‘We were lucky in the earthquake that there wasn’t much damage. I’ve spent the last year fixing the superficial stuff. I tried to get insurance after, but the companies weren’t exactly running to cover any houses then and honestly I still couldn’t afford it. I can’t afford the repairs.’
‘Roxie—’
‘I’m sorry about your tenancy,’ she interrupted him. ‘Not much of a welcome after your trip away. You can’t stay in there tonight.’
‘If I can’t stay there, you’re not staying either,’ he said. He’d take her somewhere with him and work on her until she broke down and let out the agony he was sure was hidden behind her dull eyes.
‘No, I’m not. My flight goes at three p.m. tomorrow.’
‘ What? ’ Oh, no, no, no. This was worse than anything.
‘I’ve brought my trip forward.’
It was more of a shock than seeing how she’d decimated her beloved garden. ‘What about your job?’
‘I’ve resigned already.’ Still that smile.
‘What about the Blades?’
‘That’s why they have an extra in the squad. They’re used to losing dancers partway through the season.’ Now the smile had the slightest of edges.
What about me? Gabe wasn’t going to ask that. ‘So you’re going to run away?’
‘I’m not running away.’ Finally there was a spark in her eyes—a flash of temper.
Good, he wanted more of that honest kind of emotion.
‘I’m getting on with my life,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing here for me any more.’
Okay, maybe he didn’t want that honest. ‘I’m nothing?’
There was a moment. One moment when something else flashed before that damn smile came back, that caricature of Foxy Roxie sass. ‘Not nothing, Gabe, you’ve been an education.’
His head went all funny, his breathing fast and shallow, he couldn’t see properly. She still saw him as nothing but a good-time guy? An education —with his sexual effort and all? ‘I think there’s a bit more to us, Roxie. Maybe you’re too inexperienced to know that.’
She shook her head and added to that sassy smile with a vixen shimmy of her shoulders. ‘I’m not too inexperienced to know that this isn’t anything more than a fling. Neither of us ever wanted anything more.’
The Treehouse wasn’t the only thing with shaky foundations. Gabe’s world was sinking with every word she spoke.
‘I could buy it,’ he said, latching onto the house rather than facing the implications of his tumbling emotions.
‘Please don’t feel like you have to help me.’
‘I don’t. I want the house. I’ve always wanted the house.’ And he wanted what belonged in it too.
She laughed. ‘You don’t want the house now. It’s ruined.’
‘It’s not, it just needs new foundations.’ He saw her stiffen and tried to fight it—he had to break down her damn defenses somehow. ‘I’m not doing this out of sympathy, Roxie.’
‘You can’t help yourself, Gabe,’ she said patronizingly, maintaining that bloody smile. ‘You’re a doctor. Helping people is in your blood. It’s so much a part of you, you don’t even realize. But you help those players, you helped your sister. You pulled back from your social life because you were so bothered about hurting someone. You’re a good guy, Gabe. But I’m not going to let you get all chivalrous over this just because you took my virginity. We’re having sex because it’s fun and it’s all we want from each other. You don’t need to do anything more for me, okay?’
How could she see that good in him—more than he deserved—and not want more from him?
‘Don’t try to dictate to me what I can and can’t do,’ he snapped. ‘If I want to buy the house. I’ll buy it.’
Even in the face of his temper she kept her cool, angling her head and looking up at him from beneath those darkened lashes. ‘This is my problem, Gabe, not yours. You’ll get your bond money back.’
‘I don’t care about the bloody bond money.’
She shook her head and laughed. ‘Only you can afford not to care about money.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ His anger mounted—how could she maintain this veneer?
‘You’re so used to doing whatever you want, achieving what you want, getting whoever and whatever you want. Have you ever really had to fight for anything, Gabe?’
Oh, now there was an edge, the slightest hint of cut in her tone.
‘I’ve had my battles.’
‘Breaking out from family expectation?’ she teased.
Well, that wasn’t as nothing as she made it sound when you were talking five generations of expectation, of being the sixth Andrew G. Hollingsworth and the only one to turn into Gabe. Of never feeling as if you could have your own voice. At the time, as a teen, it had been all but everything.
She laughed and answered her own question. ‘All that did for you was get you even more used to having your own way.’
Yeah, he was totally used to getting what he wanted. But he was miles off getting it now. This was a first. This was not nice.
‘Gabe, when you’ve fought some really tough battles, you know when something’s worth that effort or not. And this place isn’t worth my fighting for any more,’ she said. ‘It’s right for me to leave it.’
He just didn’t believe she meant that. ‘Roxie?—’
He broke off when he saw her stiffen.
And that was when he knew. She might be bleeding to death inside, but her mind was made up and she was the strongest person he’d ever met. She’d chosen her path and she was running for it. So why try and stand in her way? If this was what she truly wanted, and apparently it was, why argue and make it harder for her? He’d only fail at it anyway.
She looked as if she hadn’t slept at all the last couple of nights. Probably worrying and breaking her heart over losing the house. Now he was furious—she should have bloody gotten in touch with him. It hurt that she hadn’t. Instead she’d made all these decisions already. On her own.
Was that because he wasn’t important enough to her to talk to about it? He was merely a bedmate, nothing more than a toy for her? He had the horrible feeling it was. And there was one way of finding out for sure.
‘I got you a little something when I was in Sydney,’ he said, lightening his tone completely.
Her eyes widened in genuine surprise.
He dug the new phone from his pocket and handed it out to her. ‘We can stay in touch. If you ever need anything...’ He trailed off, momentarily floored by the frozen expression on her face. ‘You don’t need to worry about the ongoing costs or anything. I’ve got that covered.’
‘Gabe, I can’t accept this from you.’
Just the phone or anything he might offer? ‘Sure you can.’ He forced a smile. ‘It has a great camera—you’ll need that on your travels. I’ve downloaded some apps for you already, set up an account so you can get more, whatever you want.’
‘Gabe—’
‘You live in the mobile age, Roxie, you need one. It’s a safety thing—see it can be a torch, an alarm, a GPS navigation system...’
He was selling it too hard. Only because she looked more and more distanced. Not wanting to be rude to him, but clearly not wanting to even touch the thing. Oh, hell, he’d been right. The distress he read in her had nothing to do with him. She didn’t want to know him once she’d gone.
‘You can text me any time, send me a photo or something.’ He pushed one last time for a reaction.
And at that she smiled and took the phone from him. ‘You just want a sex pic, right?’
It was the worst attempt at humor he’d ever heard.
‘Honestly, I just want you to be able to get in touch if you need to,’ he said.
If she wanted to. Which clearly she didn’t. He got it now. Oh, yeah, she was hurting, she was a mess inside. But not about him, it was all her house. He’d seen her a bit shaken up only last week over a simple burst pipe; he knew how much work she’d put into that garden, into keeping the place in shape, the furniture that had all that history. And she was gutted about losing it all.
But not about leaving him.
‘I’d like to get in touch now,’ she purred, stepping closer. ‘There are still a few items on my list that we haven’t ticked.’ She actually pulled it out from her pocket and unfolded it.
Gabe didn’t see the sheet for the red fog of fury that suddenly materialized before his eyes. ‘You risked your neck going in there to get your sex list?’ And she’d stashed it in her pocket so they could work through it together tonight? Irate, he glared at her make-up and her pretty dress and her fancy shoes—she’d got dolled up for her last debauched night with him? He really was just a tool to help tick off her list?
She looked slightly apologetic. ‘Well, I would have got your stuff but I didn’t want to pry into your personal things.’
Oh, of course she didn’t. The dinners, the movies on the sofa, the laughs, that last time they’d been together? All had meant nothing to her. It really was just a physical fling. A feel-good-for-the-moment thing. She was keeping her innermost emotions at a distance and using him as some kind of take-the-edge-off crutch?
‘I think it’ll be okay if you just zip in and out to get your personal items quickly,’ she added, spreading her hands wider over his torso. ‘But you should probably get the construction guys in hard hats to retrieve the furniture and stuff.’
As if she were really that concerned for his welfare? She just wanted his damn body.
‘Come up to the studio with me,’ she murmured. Her lashes dropped as she watched her fingers sliding across his chest. ‘I’ve got that last bottle of Bolly we can share.’
He couldn’t believe she really wanted that now. She wanted to use him so she could forget the hurt of losing her house?
Hell, no. She wasn’t getting everything her own way. Not any more.
He tipped up her chin and looked into those mascara-framed, listless eyes. Bent and kissed her. Her arms slipped around him instantly, her lithe body melting, twisting, teasing against his already. It’d be so easy to fall deeper into her delicious heat, to take what was being offered. But what was on offer wasn’t enough. He wasn’t doing it to himself. If it was over, then it was over now. He had some pride. He wasn’t going to be a boy-toy for her right up to the minute she was ready to discard him and step onto some plane. He had some self-respect. And he was angry.
‘Those bottles aren’t really big enough for sharing,’ he said, trying to keep a lid on it. Trying to ignore how badly his body wanted him just to give in. ‘And I don’t think there’s anything more I can teach you now.’
Roxie watched him stalk over to the house. Her pride reared up, she knew what Gabe liked and wanted. It was what she wanted too. To be free to have some fun. And she’d wanted to get through this last horrendous night having fun with the one guy she knew in the world capable of doing just that. Hell, she thought it was the only way she might get through tonight—in a state of mindlessness. And she desperately, desperately wanted to feel him that one last time. Because she wasn’t doing this ever again.
Only he’d just said no. And she was devastated.
She ran up the stairs to the garage to hide before the hit registered and she lost some of her tightly held composure. She faced the almost empty room. She’d sold all the furniture to an antique store—cheaply as she was in such a hurry. And she’d sold the car. That was how she’d gotten her airfare.
She looked down from the emptiness to the phone in her hand. The same as his, fancy and beautiful only he’d gotten hers a sleek silver case. Girly and gorgeous. Unable to resist, she pressed the button to turn it on. He’d loaded a picture of the Blades as her wallpaper. She tested the ringtone. It was the song they’d danced to just the other night. She opened up the contacts. There was only one programmed already. Gabe Hollingsworth. There was a picture and everything. One he’d obviously snapped himself—with a more self-conscious grin than she’d ever seen on him in the flesh. More handsome than ever. She couldn’t bear it.
Glancing up, the first thing she landed on was the fridge. It mocked her with its remaining half bottle of Bolly. She opened the fridge door and chucked the phone in the ice-box in the top. Slammed the door and backed away from it as if it were some bomb she had to freeze to disarm.
Which was how she had to deal with him all over.
Gabe had hit a new low of voyeurism. Standing at the window in his darkened room in the damaged house, he watched her put the phone in the fridge and slam the door. His jaw dropped. Not exactly what he’d expected. But why was he surprised? She was putting all her feelings on ice. And didn’t she do everything to the extreme? She wasn’t just vegetarian, she was vegan. She didn’t just have a vegetable plot, she had a vegetable paddock. When she’d decided to get a gig dancing, she went for the biggest, flashiest show in town. When she’d decided she wanted him as her lover, she’d been fearless in her pursuit. But when things were finished, they were totally finished. No looking back —like her decision to sell the house, her stuff, everything. No phone, no contact. All or nothing.
And she’d put him in the nothing box.
Too many long hours later, he waited at the bottom of her stairs. She appeared mid-morning. Looking awful but beautiful, hiding the lack of sleep damage beneath a layer of make-up thick enough to withstand a nuclear detonation.
‘I’m giving you a ride to the airport.’ He stood to let her past, his body stiff from sitting so long.
‘That’d be great.’ She cracked a smile through the warpaint.
So that was how they were playing it, as if it were all still fun and friendly and meaningless. He’d take her to the airport and let her go, right? It wasn’t fair to try to hold someone back—he knew just how much resentment could build when someone tried to clip your wings.
‘Got your phone?’ he asked as casually as he could given he had shards of glass in his throat.
The smile stayed fixed as she nodded. He saw her gripping her hands together tightly, her fingers locked into each other. He made a thing of starting the engine and then clapped a hand on his forehead. ‘Oh, I forgot something, hang on a mo.’
It took less than a minute to jog through the garage and up the stairs. He used the keys she’d just given him to hand to the lawyer. Apparently he could be trusted with that minion task. Her studio was all but empty—that furniture had already gone, and he’d noticed the car was gone from the garage too. It cut to the quick that she’d chucked the stuff that only days ago she’d held so tightly to her. Sure enough, the phone was there in the ice-box where she’d left it. She had no intention of keeping in touch with him. Gabe forced his blood to freeze, stopping the surging anger from flooding the deep wound she’d gouged inside him. He had to stay cool on this. So she was the first woman to dump him—maybe that was why he was so bothered. Maybe it was all just hurt pride.
Out of the corner of his eye he watched her stare straight ahead as he drove her away from the house she’d loved.
She didn’t even blink.
Roxie didn’t say a word the entire drive to the airport. Her throat had seized. It was too much to hope he’d just drop her in the two-minute car parks right outside the terminal. Of course he didn’t. He parked in the expensive parks, insisted on carrying her bag in and even filled in a luggage tag for her while she checked in.
She was going straight through the security clearance; she couldn’t delay getting away from him. She was about to lose it entirely. She folded her arms tight around herself, gripping her upper arms with her hands, holding all the agony inside.
It hurt to see him so at ease about her leaving. Which was yet more proof it was the right call to have made. She couldn’t believe it when his expression warmed to tease-level as he cupped her face and tilted it up towards him.
Yeah, thank goodness he’d said no to her last night. From this one touch now, she knew she’d never have been able to pull off a last night of nothing but passion. She’d have clung to him, begging for everything he never wanted to give.
He’d meant the phone as a friendly gesture. It was kind of him. But she didn’t want kind or friendly. He was supposed to be her lover. It was supposed to have been once. Only it had been once every which way and then some. And there’d been the fun, the conversation, the laughter, the way he’d held her, that had all led to... something she couldn’t bear to define.
But he was redefining them in a way that was even worse. Concerned and caring, wanting to stay in touch as a friend. It was humiliating when what she really wanted was...
No.
She knew—to her bones —that she couldn’t stay in touch with him. She was leaving this part of her life behind. If she really was going to live light and free, then she had to sever all connection.
‘Stay in touch with your lawyer about your asset sales,’ he said quietly. ‘But you know I’ll keep an eye on it for you too.’
She nodded, mustered a slight smile to show her damn gratitude. Her throat was so tight with unshed tears she couldn’t speak.
She looked for one last time into his beautiful almost black eyes. His teasing look gave way to a small smile that sawed through her nerves. She was a total block of wood, couldn’t kiss him back, could barely manage to take the sweetness of his light, gentle caress. Gripped her sleeves even harder to stop herself shattering into a thousand little pieces of nothing.
‘I hope it’s everything you want it to be,’ he whispered.
She barely nodded because now she knew—uselessly—that what she truly wanted was right in front of her. She wanted him —to love her, to want her, to hold her and keep her... But he didn’t want to keep or be kept. And she couldn’t bear the inevitable hurt of his rejection and her loss.
Motionless, she stared up at him. Stared so hard she could no longer focus. Her last sight of him blurred—he was that fuzzy outline she’d first seen in the bathroom that day. She blinked but it didn’t make it better. She couldn’t say a thing, her throat burning hot but, like the rest of her, paralyzed.
She heard his deeply drawn breath. Felt his hands hard on her shoulders.
‘Go.’ Forcefully he turned her away. Pushed so she took a stumbling step in the direction of security clearance. Her frozen cold feet automatically took the next step. And the next.
She didn’t turn, didn’t raise a hand as she heard him harshly instruct her that one last time.
‘Go.’