Chapter 38
38
OUTSIDE DEAN WALKER’S APARTMENT, DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN
Oliver put his finger to the intercom button again, ready to push it for a second time. She had changed her mind. He swallowed. How did that make him feel? Disappointed . He took his hand away from the button and blew some hot breath onto his fingers. It was freezing tonight but inside, he had been crackling with anticipation for what was to come. Maybe he should go. Accept that between this morning and now, she had had second thoughts.
The door whipped open and there she was.
‘My God,’ he exclaimed, his eyes bulging in appreciation.
She looked even more heavenly, if that was possible. It was her hair. It was different. It now showed off her petite features, that heart-shaped face, highlighting more of that soft neckline he wanted to get better acquainted with.
‘I’m sorry, I should rephrase that quickly.’ He reached for her hand. ‘You look stunning.’ He brought her hand to his lips and placed a delicate kiss on her skin. ‘I’ve never seen business wear quite like it.’
‘Why, thank you, Clark. I have to admit you scrub up quite well yourself.’ She blushed .
‘Shall we?’ he asked, indicating the black town car waiting at the bottom of the steps.
‘Can I know where we’re going now?’ Hayley asked, taking his arm.
‘No.’
The Metropolitan Opera House, Lincoln Center Plaza
Hayley had sat herself back into the heated leather seats of the car and spent the entire journey surveying the sights and sounds of the Big Apple through the tinted glass window. The buildings on the drive ranged from giant, international stores and smart hotels, to bodegas and brownstones. Lamp posts cast a glow over the snow-covered vehicles parked on the street, strings of fairy lights hung from trees and roofs, the faint scent of ginger snaps was in the air. It was the first time since she’d arrived in the city that she was actually able to take it in in all its glory. Because there was beauty in the bustle of life here, like the arch in Washington Square Park last night, old and new blending together to create one perfect heady mix of a culture she’d once thought was hers for the taking. Concentrating on the scene outside had been better than the alternative. Focusing on her companion. Her nose had been filled with the musky scent of his aftershave and they’d sat so close, the heat from his body had seeped its way into hers. Gazing at the city sights had stopped her falling under the spell of those hazel eyes and admitting what his presence did to her.
The car had dropped them five minutes or so ago and now they were walking, the shoes she had packed but never expected to wear starting to shave the skin off her little toes.
‘Is it far?’ she asked Oliver, trying her best not to limp .
‘No,’ he responded. ‘It’s just over there.’
Hayley followed his line of vision to a fountain just ahead, its water bright white, bubbling up like a newly found oil well. Just behind, five arched windows stretched up from sidewalk to sky, ethereal light making them look like heavenly guardians protecting whatever was within.
‘What is this place?’ she asked, unable to stop the anticipation spreading over her face.
‘It’s the Metropolitan Opera House,’ he answered.
‘Wow!’ she breathed out quickly. Opera . She couldn’t show any disappointment. It might be good. It wasn’t Maroon 5 but it was a new experience. She swallowed.
He grinned at her. ‘You love opera, right?’
She nodded so much, she was afraid her head might roll right off her shoulders when she was done. ‘Yeah, of course! Who doesn’t love opera?! Men and women singing in a language I don’t understand. I’m all about the soprano and the not understanding the plotline.’ She swallowed. ‘That was a joke, by the way. This is a really great idea for a date.’
Oliver let his laugh go. ‘I hate opera.’
‘You do?’ She couldn’t help the gasp of relief. ‘You really had me going there for a second.’
He offered her his arm. ‘Come on, let’s get inside out of the cold.’
Hayley slipped her arm through his, her fingers taking a hold of his black, woollen coat, the solidity of his forearm prevalent under the fabric. This was happening. This was her going on a date. A date she wanted to be on, with someone who made her insides curl up in ways she’d forgotten about.
They walked across the paving, their breath hanging hot in the freezing air, following groups of people ahead all starting to congregate outside the entrance .
Hayley tugged on Oliver’s arm, making him turn his head. ‘So if this isn’t opera, what is it?’
He smiled then, his eyes creasing at the corners, and Hayley held her breath. There were those oh-so-kissable lips she really wanted to get to know more intimately. God, it was like she was on heat. One sniff of a date and she was ready for anything. She was supposed to be being cautious here, not turning into a man devourer just because she hadn’t had a man for a while. Albeit a long while.
‘You’ll just have to wait and see,’ he replied, tapping his nose with his finger.
She wrinkled up her face in disapproval. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re deeply annoying?’
‘Would you like all their names and zip codes?’
The look on Hayley’s face when she saw the banner announcing what they were going to see was priceless. Her mouth had sprung open, her jaw hanging, eyes unbelieving. She turned to stare at him, unspeaking, seemingly lost for words which, for her, was a definite rarity. He felt pure, unadulterated joy welling up inside him. This was what it felt like to do something for someone you cared about. And then something stung. He didn’t do caring like that. It only led to pain. He kept the smile on his face and put a hand to his chest to quell the spasm that had occurred in apparent protest. This had to be light and casual. He ground his teeth together. He was living in the moment. Just the moment. Nothing else.
‘I know about this… I mean… I knew it was in New York soon and I hoped I’d be able to catch some of it on TV. I mean, people like me don’t get tickets to this sort of thing,’ Hayley gabbled .
‘People like you?’ he questioned, drinking in the sight of her in the perfect dress, the ends of her new hairstyle just touching her delicious jawline.
She shrugged. ‘It’s one of the most famous fashion collaborations of the year. All the greats are here: Alexander McQueen, Versace, Galliano and…’ She took a breath like she was steeling herself for something. ‘Emo Taragucci.’
‘Who’s that?’ Oliver asked, his face a blank canvas.
‘Who’s that?!’ She flipped around on him, looking mean. ‘I can’t believe you said that.’
‘To be honest, I’m kind of a Tom Ford guy.’
He watched Hayley approach the poster, looking up at it like it was something to worship at. ‘Emo Taragucci has been… was… an inspiration to me.’
He wet his lips. Was she about to open up to him now? He’d known the flashes of spirit she had shown him were only the tip of the iceberg. Underneath the responsibilities of being a mum, there was a frustrated spirit waiting to break out. He held his breath, wanting nothing to get in her way.
‘I dreamed I’d be designing clothes like this one day,’ Hayley said, the words floating from her mouth almost subconsciously. ‘I thought… hoped… one day my name would be up there.’ She indicated the poster with a shaking finger. ‘Somewhere like this.’
This was her wish. When he’d asked her at Vipers, she had totally ignored her own dreams and desires and told him what she wanted for her daughter. But this was it. This was what she wanted the most for herself. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he remembered his own life plan he’d had to give up.
‘It’s never too late,’ he whispered, stepping close to her until he knew she could feel his breath on the nape of her neck. He watched her visibly shiver in response. What he wouldn’t give to touch that delicate skin, the shorter hair leaving it bare to the world.
She shook her head. ‘No. I missed my chance. Flying off to Milan and creating my show for London Fashion Week is never going to happen for me now.’
‘That’s defeatist.’
‘It’s reality. I have Angel.’
‘If you fold her up a certain way, I think she could class as hand luggage.’
Hayley laughed. ‘The special dictionary alone covers that. Add all the guidebooks and I may as well pay for her seat.’
He reached out and touched a strand of her hair before removing his hand quickly. Where had that come from? It was way too intimate. He cleared his throat. ‘Shall we go in?’
The opera house was, without doubt, the grandest place Hayley had ever set foot in. The tiers of sumptuous, red, upholstered seats were just like the Albert Hall. Looking upwards, she marvelled at the unusual circular design of the ceiling and the Art Deco-style starburst lights, their arms shooting out like radiant rays of stardust. Even in the best dress she had to wear, she felt conspicuous. Oliver, on the other hand, couldn’t have fitted in better. His winter coat was over his arm now and the charcoal suit he was wearing tapered in all the right places. She really needed to stop looking at him like he was a piece of meat ripe for the barbecue. But she couldn’t deny there was a part of her warming to this man in quite a significant way. Bringing her here wasn’t about showing off his ability to get tickets that had probably sold out the second they went on sale. Somehow, he knew this meant something to her.
She watched him saying hello to various patrons along the way. He was a well-known businessman; he probably knew half the room. She, on the other hand felt like a fish out of water. She really needed to learn to walk a little taller, remember the social skills she used to possess before the only thing she had to focus on was Peppa Pig. In a few days, she was going to be mixing with the rich and the beautiful at the McArthur Foundation fundraiser. And she really needed to tell Oliver about that.
Right on cue, he turned back to catch her gaze. ‘We’re here,’ he stated, holding an arm out, indicating the very front row.
The front row . Of course he had got them tickets for the front row. Where else would a billionaire trying to impress his date sit? She threw a glance over other guests already in their seats and almost choked on the air she couldn’t swallow down.
‘Oliver, don’t look now; I think Victoria Beckham is sat two rows behind us,’ Hayley hissed.
She watched him look then wave a hand of acknowledgement. ‘Ah good, I’ve been meaning to catch up with David about youth sports sponsorship.’
‘Are you kidding me?’ Hayley said, her voice an octave too high.
‘What?’ Oliver responded with a laugh of innocence. ‘If you’re impressed by sitting in front of Victoria Beckham, what are you going to think about sitting next to Emo Taragucci?’ He indicated the seat to Hayley’s right.
Suddenly, she felt like she was holding the winning lottery ticket and didn’t have a clue what to do.
From the second the music started, Oliver watched Hayley give every ounce of her attention to the show going on in front of them. She clapped and whooped, whistled in appreciation and watched steely-eyed as model after model made their way down the catwalk on stage towards them. It was evocative. She was evocative. His eyes hadn’t been on the stage; they’d been on only her. He swallowed as that thought travelled over his brain.
Hayley pointed. ‘Look at that. See how she creates the illusion of length. And those colours!’
‘I’m not even going to pretend I know what I’m looking at.’
‘Oh come on, Oliver, you appreciate the female form, don’t you?’
‘It has been known.’
‘Well, Emo Taragucci dresses women in a totally unique way. All her designs are ultra-feminine, sexy, strong, everything a woman should be.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Oliver answered.
Hayley punched his arm. ‘You’d better mean that.’
‘I do, I swear,’ he laughed.
‘Ooh, look at that one… it’s beautiful,’ Hayley said, admiring a black dress printed with tiny Japanese blossom.
Her excitement and enthusiasm were catching. Her joy in the fashion show made him feel the same elation as winning another billion-dollar contract or scoring a winning touchdown on the football field. He swallowed back the feeling, something pinching. There had to be at least an arm’s length. She was leaving. He was dying. He couldn’t do complex.
‘I squeezed Emo’s leg,’ Hayley whispered, her face close to his.
‘You didn’t!’
‘I didn’t mean to, I just got overexcited. She took it well. She is coming back after her section of the show, isn’t she?’
Oliver laughed. ‘How hard did you squeeze her?’
‘Do you think it would be too much to ask for a selfie?’