Unstitched Page 7

  ‘Well, is there?’ said Leith

  I shook my head. There was no way, after a betrayal like that, and after meeting someone like Lucas, that we’d ever have a chance again.

  ‘Then don’t bother!’ He stormed past me and Lucas to the foyer and into the elevator. The doors shut and he was gone.

  I stood there silent, my throat so tight, my chest aching. What the hell was going on with my life at the moment?

  ‘Is everything all right, Anthy?’

  I nodded, attempted a smile, but tears betrayed me.

  ‘That was an ex-boyfriend, I assume?’

  Again I nodded.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  Do I want to talk about it? Or did I want to push Leith to the back of my mind, label the experience as “bad”, and never think about him again?

  ‘Or I can leave, if you want that?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘Don’t leave. But I think I need to tell you what’s going on.’

  I sat on the lounge, rubbed the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. It soothed the slight headache forming behind my eyes. Lucas sat beside me, elbows on knees, hands clasped together.

  ‘Leith and I were together for a short while. But in that time he managed to hurt and humiliate me so much that, without question, our relationship ended. Abruptly.’

  ‘He’s the one that looks hurt,’ said Lucas. Not an accusation, but an observation.

  ‘He is hurt. He came over to see if we could get back together and to tell me that he…’ I took a breath and whispered, ‘loves me.’

  ‘And then I showed up.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Do you love him?’

  I looked into his eyes. ‘No.’

  ‘So why the tears?’

  I shrugged. Good question. ‘Sympathy? I feel sorry for people, even when someone else would think I’m ridiculous for doing so. Like that awful guy Reese, who you saved me from at the fundraiser. And for Leith, even though he’s not a nice person at all. I can’t help it. I think it’s because I understand what it’s like to be lonely, or to want something you can’t have. But most of all, I know how much it hurts to not be with the one you love. I don’t want to be responsible for someone feeling like that. Ever.’

  The expression on Lucas’s face — grief, pity, guilt — I didn’t know what exactly, had the power to completely undo me. He looked away and stared down at the floor. We were silent until I stood and quickly wiped at my eyes with my palms.

  ‘I’ll understand if you want to leave.’

  Lucas found my face again, the emotions I thought I saw were no longer there. ‘I don’t want to leave. If you say it’s over between you and him, then I believe you.’ He smiled smugly as he stood and took my hand in his. ‘I can’t blame the poor guy for not wanting to let you go. Although, he’ll have to realise his efforts are too little, too late. I’ve found you now and I won’t be that willing to give you up.’

  His words inflated me. ‘I wouldn’t want you to give me up.’

  I stared into his eyes, now alight with pleasure. He stepped closer, wrapping me in his body heat. His face edged towards mine and my heart fluttered, body silently screaming at me to kiss him. But just as I could taste his scent on my tongue, he shook his head, straightened, and rolled his shoulders back.

  ‘So how is your head this morning?’ he asked.

  What the…? I wanted to grab him by the scruff of that amazing jumper and drag his lips down to mine. And then I remembered why he hesitated — our “take-it-easy” agreement. Damn, stupid agreement.

  ‘A little sore,’ I eventually answered.

  ‘Not the best way to end our first date.’

  ‘No, especially after it was going so well.’

  He grinned. ‘So you enjoyed yourself?’

  ‘Yes. Every part of it. Except for the kitchen incident — the head banging part that is — the kissing part was fantastic.’

  He laughed. ‘So how would you feel about a second date? Today?’

  I opened my mouth, tried to speak, but flapped around like a fish instead. Finally I managed, ‘I’d like that.’

  Chapter 11

  Lucas

  Mooloolaba, a beachside town an hour out from Brisbane, burnished by sand, salt and endless sunshine. Today was an especially warm winter day — one ragged white cloud hung in the cornflower blue sky.

  I parked outside a little side-street takeaway and bought a paper bag of fish and chips. I clasped Anthea’s hand and we walked to the esplanade — one side was boutique shops and restaurants, the other was blond sand and the blue-green Pacific Ocean.

  We sat, shoulders touching, at a timber table on the faded beige boardwalk. The view was all the way up the beach. A few tourists dared to swim and surfers flocked around the modest waves. The air caressed our faces and ran salty fingers through our hair.

  Swapping smiles and small-talk, we ate with our fingers.

  I finished my mouthful and grinned. ‘What did you want to be when you grew up?’

  Anthea shrugged. ‘Geez, tough question. I don’t know. I was always one of those kids who never knew what they wanted to be. Even now, I don’t know what I want to do.’

  ‘But you’re in P.R.’

  She shrugged. ‘Yeah, I am. I’m just kinda doing it because that’s what I fell into after uni.’

  ‘You like it though?’

  She nodded. ‘Yeah. I like it. What about you? What did you want to be?’

  I shrugged. ‘Maybe a builder.’

  ‘Ah, the dream of many young boys,’ Anthea said.

  I laughed. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Why a builder?’

  ‘My father.’ Unexpected sadness pressed upon my heart mentioning him — heavy. ‘He would take me onto building sites when I was young. It amazed me how all these people could create such incredible structures out of what was essentially dirt and rubble.’

  ‘Why didn’t you pursue that path?’

  ‘I fell in love.’

  Anthea frowned and looked away. ‘Right.’

  I laughed. ‘I fell in love with music, Anthy. It’s in my veins. I couldn’t avoid the inevitable.’

  Her cheeks reddened¸ which made me laugh even louder. ‘I love your reactions.’

  ‘I’ve noticed. Glad I can provide you with comic relief.’

  I reached for her hand and thread our fingers. Her skin was warm and soft. ‘Your reactions are honest. You can’t hide them behind words, and that’s what I like. I get to see the real you.’ I leant closer and kissed her. My lips still brushing against her warm, sweet lips, I whispered, ‘I want to know every last part of you.’ And I meant it. Every last inch.

  She breathed in deeply and caught my lips between hers. I had to take it slow with Anthea — some part of her was vulnerable. But she felt so good. Her tongue found mine, eager, and slid warm into my mouth. Oh, hell, she tasted good, too. I wrapped my arms around her, drawing her closer. She sighed softly against my mouth and my cock swelled tight with pleasure. How easy she could do that to me — affect me physically, reach me on the inside. I fisted my hand in her long, silky hair and deepened our kiss, lost. Surely no harm ever came from kissing.

  ***

  Anthea

  Too soon Lucas broke away and I was bereft without his hands on me. How could a man make me feel this way? I was buzzing, white-hot, and so fucking horny. I wanted to rip my knickers off, climb onto him and lower myself onto his hard, hot…

  Oh, my God. I never think like this.

  I needed to cool down. I looked away from those eyes that drew me to him, made me think wicked thoughts, and, instead, gazed out over the ocean, watching waves form and grow until they rolled and crashed against the wet sand.

  ‘Do you want to go for a swim?’ he asked.

  I turned to him with eyebrows arching high. ‘But it’s winter.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Maybe we can just dip our toes in.’

  We strode do
wn the salt-faded timber stairs, flicked off our shoes, and tramped across the hot sand. A sharp breeze lashed at our feet and blew my sundress around my ankles. Yellow sand faded to beige where the tide had soaked the shoreline before retreating back to the ocean. I shivered as a long wave swirled up to meet our feet.

  Lucas grinned. ‘It’s not too bad.’

  I scoffed. ‘Says the Victorian.’

  He laughed loudly and threw his shirt over his head.

  Holy fucking hell. He was stunning — his cocoa skin almost glowed under the sunlight. In addition to the full left sleeve of tattoos he had strange symbols engraved on his pecs and a dragon on his right shoulder. I had to look away and take a deep breath.

  ‘Coming in?’ he asked.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Would you mind holding my things for me while I take a quick dip?’

  Words were difficult to form. ‘Um. Sure.’

  I struggled to keep my eyes on his as I took his shirt, keys and wallet, but the need to stray to his biceps and those broad, ripped shoulders was too strong. His perfectly toned, tanned chest, the lumps and bumps of his stomach and that sexy-as-fuck V pointing down to his… Oh God, Anthy. Look up.

  Lucas was grinning when I found his face again. My tongue darted out to wet my lips.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ he said, pecked my cheek and ran towards the ocean. His back thieved my attention: it was covered in a black-and-white, full back tattoo of strange creatures. He was the sexiest walking art show I’d ever seen. Long legs bounded over the waves, muscles tensing and bulging, until he was waist deep and dived headfirst into the water.

  I sat down a little further up the beach on the dry sand. My erratic hormones were tempting me to strip down, slink in after him and smooth my hands over every inked inch of his body and then some. But I knew rationality would override as I soon as I hit the crisp water. Besides, it was quite a show just watching him.

  Only a few minutes in the ocean and he swam back towards the shore. When shallow enough, he stood, stamping over the waves. Dressed only in a pair of white board shorts, his golden skin glistened. Beads of water dripped from his hair and down his rippling body. My jaw hung loose, hinges no longer working.

  Absolutely gorgeous.

  I wiped at the corners of my mouth, checking for drool. I was dry — well my mouth was. As for other parts of my anatomy…

  I stood and brushed the sand from my dress and legs, while Lucas hurried towards me.

  What was he doing?

  He grinned — white teeth and two generous dimples — and jogged to me. My heart sprinted. I spun away to run, but he threw his arms around my waist and pulled me against his cold wet flesh. I screamed and giggled. He was ice against my sun-drenched skin. I wiggled, tried to wrench free, but he playfully held me tighter and his laugh vibrated loud and deep in his chest.

  ‘What’s the matter, Anthy? You don’t want a cuddle?’

  I shook my head. ‘You’re freezing!’ My legs were weak from laughter, which wasn’t helping my cause. He loosened his grip and I made a break for it running across the warm grainy sand.

  I turned back to face him. He smiled and spread his long toned arms wide, his muscled chest rippling. ‘Come here. Give me a hug.’

  ‘Ask me again when you’re dry.’

  He winked and flashed his dimples again. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’

  You better.

  ***

  The sky was fading to pink and the breeze pricked our flesh like icy needles by the time we arrived back at my apartment building. Lucas walked me through the foyer to the lifts.

  ‘I had a great time today,’ he said.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Please join me for dinner tomorrow night?’

  I smiled. ‘Tomorrow?’

  He nodded. ‘At my house. I’ll cook.’

  ‘How could I say no to that?’

  He grinned wide. ‘I’ll pick you up here at seven?’

  ‘Okay.’

  He reached for me, stroked his thumb along my cheek and smoothed a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘You’re so damn beautiful, Anthy.’

  I parted my lips to thank him, but his mouth slanted over mine, silencing me. My eyes closed as his lips moved with mine. He tasted like salt and smelled like sunshine — a heady combination. Lust shook through me as he penetrated my mouth with his tongue. I fisted his hair, still damp from the ocean, and pressed my chest tighter to his warm body. He was molten quicksand and I his willing victim. I sank deeper and deeper into him, unsure if I’d ever return. Unsure if I’d ever want to.

  He broke away and I swear there were crackles and sparks around us. My chest was rising and falling sharply, as was his. We just looked at each other, eyes wide, jaws slack. I laughed because my head was deliriously light.

  ‘How am I going to spend an entire night and day before seeing you again?’

  I sobered. I’d not thought of that. I didn’t want to think of that. ‘You can stay the night if you like?’

  He grimaced and kicked the toe of his boot against the tiles. ‘We’re recording some tracks tonight and tomorrow. It’s the only time we’ve been able to co-ordinate all band members to be in the one place at the one time.’

  I smiled. ‘So I’ll see you tomorrow night then. No biggy.’ Except it was.

  He took my hand in his. ‘Thank you for today.’ He kissed my cheek, lingering long enough for my eyes to fall heavily closed. ‘See you,’ he whispered against my ear, hot breath teasing me.

  I nodded and watched as he drifted away and our fingertips pulled slowly apart. ‘See you.’

  Chapter 12

  Anthea

  I slung my bag tighter over my shoulder and slid into the passenger side of Lucas’s Audi. The scent of lush leather greeted me. Lucas jumped in beside me and smiled. He looked jaw-droppingly good tonight in a pair of black jeans, silver buckled boots and a printed black T so his ink was on show. I was in love with those tattoos.

  ‘How did you go with the band today?’ I asked.

  He grinned wide. ‘We smashed it. Laid down some great tracks.’ He started the engine and the deep growl vibrated through my body. ‘How about you? How was your day?’

  Hell.

  Time couldn’t move fast enough.

  ‘It was okay.’

  I unslung my bag from my shoulder to rest on the floor at my feet, but my book slid out onto Lucas’s lap. He held it up. ‘The Time Traveler’s Wife,’ he said, reading the cover.

  I snatched it from him, shoved it back into my bag.

  He grinned. ‘Is that in case I bore you tonight?’

  ‘Of course not. I still have it in there from the other day.’

  ‘Any good?’

  ‘It’s one of my favourites. It’s about a man who has a genetic disorder that makes him travel through time. Problem is, he can’t control when it happens.’

  Lucas laughed. ‘Interesting choice of book.’

  I arched a brow. ‘What, not your type?’

  ‘Not exactly. I just don’t understand how we’re expected to believe that a genetic disorder forces someone to travel through time without any volition of his own.’ He looked at me and chuckled deeply. ‘Doesn’t that seem a little erroneous? That time travel is somehow based on the genetic makeup of the body, rather than the genetic makeup of the universe.’

  ‘I didn’t realise you were an expert,’ I teased.

  He lowered his eyes to the steering wheel and smiled bashfully. ‘That’s why they call it fiction, right?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ***

  My eyes widened as we pulled into the driveway of Lucas’s house: towering, with sleek square lines and huge glass windows spilling yellow light into the night. He parked in the garage, which was almost as big as my entire apartment and we climbed a flight of perforated plate stairs that led into the kitchen. It was breathtaking: recycled timbers, polished cement floors and industrial inspired lights and fittings.

  ‘Wow. I think
I might even enjoy cooking if I had a kitchen like this.’

  He smiled. ‘Is that so? I’ll keep that in mind.’

  ‘I warn against that, unless you like the taste of burnt toast and vegemite.’ I sat on a bar stool, elbows resting on a long stone bench top, while Lucas grabbed a bottle of red from the wine fridge.

  He uncorked it, held it up. ‘Would you like a glass?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Now, I haven’t tried this wine before. I bought it online, so I hope it’s good.’

  I read the label: Penfolds Grange, the year 1980. This wine was older than me.

  ‘Penfolds Grange?’ I asked.

  ‘You know it?’

  ‘I know it,’ I said

  ‘Is it any good? I’m not a big drinker, so I don’t really know.’

  ‘I’ve read good reports.’

  He filled two fat wine glasses with the ruby vintage. ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ He raised his glass and chimed it against mine. ‘To us.’

  ‘To us,’ I repeated and took a sip. My mouth watered as I swallowed it down.

  ‘Good?’ he asked.

  ‘Amazingly good.’

  Lucas drank a mouthful. He smacked his lips, lifted the glass and looked at the contents. ‘I have to agree.’

  I laughed. ‘You act as though you’ve never tasted red wine before.’

  ‘I haven’t.’

  My brow crinkled and eyes narrowed. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. As I said, I’m not a drinker.’

  ‘Well a five-hundred-dollar bottle of vintage is probably a perfect place to start.’

  ***

  Lucas had prepared paella for our dinner and the kitchen smelt delicious — of spicy chorizo and fragrant stock. He had to add some muscles at the last minute, but it was basically all done.

  ‘Now if you would like to take that bottle of wine and our glasses outside there,’ he said, pointing to wide-open double doors that led onto a timber deck. ‘I’ll bring everything out.’