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Needing to know for sure, to see if her radar was so rusty it was no longer even functional, she turned in her chair, giving him her most flirtatious smile.
‘Okay,’ she said, ‘just so we can put this topic to bed once and for all—’
He raised an eyebrow. Her heart rate quickened. And all the places his large warm hands had glanced that night pulsed.
Hannah met his raised eyebrow and raised him another. ‘I’m talking, of course, about my lack of singing and dancing skills.’
‘Riiight.’
‘I don’t want you sitting there feeling all sorry for me because I can’t do a series of triple-spins while belting out “I Dreamed a Dream”.’
When he opened his mouth, she held up a hand. ‘Before you ask, all I’ll admit is that routine had fake peacock feathers and sequinned masquerade masks.’
‘I was going to say that I don’t feel the least bit sorry for you. A woman doesn’t have to be able to sing and dance to have it going on.’
He lifted his beer and finished it in one slow swallow. All she could do was stare.
Oh, yeah. Bradley was flirting, all right. Batting her about like a lion with a moth. She wondered what she might do if he decided to stop playing and get serious. The very idea petrified her to the spot.
Even in the low light of the club she could see the gleam in his eyes. The thrill of the chase.
Utterly out of her depth, she reached for her drink.
Bradley got there first, snatching it out of her way. But not before her fingers had brushed across his. Pure and unadulterated sexual attraction wrapped itself around her like a wet rope, slippery and unyielding. And even in the darkness she was sure his pupils had grown so large the colour of his eyes was completely obscured.
From an accidental touch of fingers. Oh, God …
Bradley swirled the ice around in her drink. Once. Twice. Each time ice hit glass her nerves twanged sharply—like an out-of-tune guitar.
She sat on her hands and bit her lip. He’s your boss. You love your job. He’s not looking for for ever. And you are. Just allowing this flirtation to continue is going to change everything.
He lifted her drink to his mouth and took a sip. The press of his lips where her lips had just been made her tingle in the most aching anticipation.
Then his face screwed up as if he’d just sucked on a lemon. ‘Holy heck—that’s atrocious! How can you drink this slop?’
‘It’s not slop!’
‘What on earth’s in it?’
‘Whisky, lemon juice, sugar, and a dash of egg white.’
‘Are you serious?’
He picked up his empty beer glass and practically ran his tongue around the rim in search of leftover foam. Hannah’s limbs went limp so quickly she had to look away.
‘It was my father’s favourite drink. So clearly it’s meant for a palate far more discerning than yours.’
To prove it, she put the glass to her mouth and took a giant swig—only instead of tasting the sharp mix of ingredients that had always felt nothing but warm and comforting, she was certain she could taste a whisper of beer as left by Bradley’s lips.
She slammed the glass to the table, then pushed back her chair. ‘I need to … do some urgent maid of honour things.’
He crossed his arms and looked at her a long time. ‘Right now?’
‘You know I don’t like leaving things till the last minute. Boss.’
There. Put things back in perspective. Remind him who you are. Who he is. How things are meant to work between you.
‘Need company?’ A slow smile slid across his face, proving he was apparently happy to forget.
As he began to uncurl his large lanky self from the chair she backed up so fast she bumped into some poor woman who spilt her drink. Hannah pulled her emergency ten dollars from her cleavage and shoved it in the girl’s hand.
Bradley sank back into the chair, his eyes glued to her décolletage as though he was wondering what other secrets she held down there. None to write home about! she wanted to shout.
Instead she demanded, ‘Sit. Drink. Grab a lighter and sway. Whatever gets you through the night. I’ll come find you later.’
And with that she spun and, head down, feet going a mile a minute, took off through any gap she could find.
Until that moment she’d enjoyed her crush on him because it had never had a chance of going anywhere. Bradley was impossible. Untouchable. Out of her league. In fact he’d been a convenient excuse not to get close to anyone else while she concentrated on consolidating her career.
And now?
Someone clearly cleverer than she had once said, ‘Be careful what you wish for or you just might get it.’
She wished they were there right now, so she could shake their hand. Or ask if they’d mind slapping her across the back of the head as many times as it took to make sure she made it back to her bedroom that night.
Alone.
Bradley glanced at his watch to find Hannah had been AWOL for over an hour. That was as long as he’d decided to give her. Because if she was actually off doing maid of honour business he’d shave his head.
After five solid minutes of frustrated searching, he found her. Back against the wall in a quiet cocktail lounge at the far end of the bar. Stuck between Roger and her mother.
Even in the half-light he could see that she was struggling. Both hands were clasped tight around a tall glass of iced water as her eyes skimmed brightly from one hostage-taker to the other.
Something must have alerted her to his presence as he excused himself and made his way through the chatty crowd towards her, because her eyes shifted to lock instantly with his.
That very moment she went from dazed to delighted. Her whole face lit up as if the sun had risen inside her. It felt … nice.
‘Hi,’ she said on an outward breath.
He nodded.
Virginia and Roger turned in surprise, and expressed understandably different levels of excitement to see him. He gave Virginia a kiss on the cheek, and patted poor Roger on the shoulder. Poor Roger’s eye began to twitch. But Bradley had more important things to worry about.
‘I’ve been searching for you for some time,’ he said.
Hannah’s eyes widened in a plea for help. ‘I’ve been right here for quite some time.’
Guilt clenched at him. While he’d been stewing about the way she’d walked away, right when things seemed to have been going so fine, he’d greedily forgotten why he was really there. He’d promised to watch her back. He’d already let her down. Some white knight he was.
‘We’ve monopolised her terribly,’ Virginia said, blinking at him coquettishly over a glass of champagne—clearly not her first.
Through clenched teeth Hannah said, ‘Virginia’s been telling Roger all about my lack of flair for any of the Young Tasmanian pageant sections she aced as a kid.’
‘Has she, now?’ Bradley asked, frowning at Virginia. It didn’t make a dent.
It seemed it would take more than his presence to give Hannah the upper hand. All he could think of for her to do was the same thing he’d done in order to shake off the shackles of his own mother’s disappointment. Prove to her, himself and the world that it didn’t matter.
‘On that note,’ he said, ‘did you forget we’re up next?’
‘Up?’
‘Karaoke.’
‘But I thought you couldn’t sing,’ Roger said.
‘I can’t,’ Hannah said, hand to her heart, eyes all but popping from her head.
‘She’s not kidding. She really can’t.’ That was Virginia.
Having seen enough, he reached in, took Hannah by the hand and dragged her from the local axis of evil. He shot them a little over-the-shoulder wave before he took their plaything away.
He skirted his way through the crowd in silence. Hannah kept close, tucking in behind him when things became overly cramped. Her small hand in his felt good. Really good.
‘Maid of honour business all finished?’ he asked, his voice gruff.
‘It is, thank you,’ she said stiffly. ‘Now where are you taking me?’
‘I said we were going to sing, so now we have to sing.’
Suddenly his arm was almost yanked from its socket. He spun to find she’d dug in her heels and was refusing to budge.
He glanced towards the cocktail lounge. ‘It we don’t they’ll just think it was a dodgy excuse for you to ditch them.’
‘Wasn’t it?’
‘Only if you’re happy with them thinking so.’
Two little frown lines appeared above her nose, and she nibbled at her full lower lip. He found himself staring. Imagining. Planning.
Finally she shook her head. ‘But I really can’t sing.’
‘Can they?’ He motioned to the wannabe boy band who could barely slur out a sentence yet still had a rapt and voluble audience. ‘Now, pick a song. Something you can recite in your sleep.’
‘Oh, God. This is really happening, isn’t it? Umm. In my dreams when I audition for random TV talent shows I’m always singing something from Grease.’
He felt a grin coming at the thought of such innocent dreams, and struggled to bite it back.
Apparently not well enough. Her face fell. ‘You don’t know Grease, do you? Well, I am not going up there on my own.’
‘You’re safe. I had the biggest crush on Olivia Newton-John when I was a kid.’
The manic tugging relaxed instantly as she gawped at him. He used her moment of distraction to drag her to the edge of the stage.
‘I love it!’ she said, grinning from ear to ear. ‘You used to sing her songs into your mum’s hairbrush, didn’t you? You can tell me. I promise I won’t tell a soul. Well, bar Sonja, of course—and you know how discreet she is.’
She shook her head, her thick dark hair curling over her shoulders—sexy, unbridled, exposing a curve of soft golden skin just below her right ear that was crying out for a set of teeth to sink into it.
He stared at the spot, finding himself wholly distracted by the imagined taste of her spilling into his mouth. Better that than to brood over the fact that somehow he’d promised to leap onto a spotlit stage and in the act of performing beg a crowd of strangers for their superficial devotion.
He took solace in Hannah’s luscious creamy shoulder as he pulled her closer—close enough to lose himself in the last subtle trails of her scent as he whispered in her ear, ‘What the lady wants, the lady gets. Grease it is.’
Then he turned her in his arms and pointed to the stage, looming dark and high in front of them.
Her smile disappeared and she swallowed hard. ‘So we’re really doing this?’
‘One song. Show them that even though you have no flair for pageantry you have pluck to spare.’
‘You think I have pluck?’
He turned away from the stage at the softness in her voice, only to find himself drowning in the heat of her eyes. ‘To spare.’
She blinked at him. Long dark lashes stroked her cheek, creating flutters as he imagined their light graze caressing his skin as she kissed her way up his—
She breathed deep and shook out her hands. ‘Let’s do it. Now. Quick. Before I change my mind.’
He went to move away and she grabbed his hand again. Hers was warm, soft, small—and shaking. Trusting.
Holding on tight, he had a quick word in the ear of the guy in charge of the karaoke lineup, and slipped him a twenty so that they could get this over and done with as soon as humanly possible.
‘Okay,’ she said, bouncing from foot to foot, tipping her head from side to side to ease her neck. Warming up as if she was about to do a triple-jump, not a little show tune. ‘We’ve established that I’m doing this because I’m a cowardly pleaser. But why are you?’
‘When in Rome …’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve worked right by your side for nearly a year now, Bradley. I know you. Putting yourself up there like some piece of meat to be picked over must be akin to torture.’
She was so close to the truth—a truth he had no intention of sharing with her or anyone—he shut his mouth and avoided those big, clear, candid eyes.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Don’t tell me. I’ll figure it out eventually.’
And then she smiled. The smile of a woman who knew him. Who cared enough to try to know him. A woman who didn’t care if he knew it too.
Dammit. He was in the middle of a bar without a drink, and if he’d ever needed Dutch courage the time was now.
Lucky for her the thing propelling him forward was his inability to stand by and allow her to be so summarily dismissed. He’d rewritten his story. He wasn’t merely a little orphan boy any more. He was a man who conquered mountains and showed others how to do the same.
What Hannah had yet to realise was that in going up on that stage it wouldn’t matter if she proved her mother right by not holding a tune. What would matter was that her story would no longer be about being her mother’s great disappointment. Her story would be the time she summoned the kind of guts she never knew she had in order to belt out a song at her sister’s fabulous pre-wedding party.
And, in the spirit of watching her back, if he had to endure a little excruciating drama to give that to her, then so be it.
