Here Without You

‘Of course not, Reid – I wouldn’t answer your phone.’ I frown, as taken aback by his question as I am by the disquiet in his eyes and the rigid line of his bare shoulders. If I could backpedal right now and retract my mention of her, I would. I wanted this to be nothing. I wanted him to shrug and say it’s nothing, but it isn’t nothing. It’s clearly anything but nothing.

It’s too late to about-face, but I can’t watch this unravel, not now, even if I’m the one who pulled the string.

‘I have to tell you something –’ he says as I say, ‘I only wanted to let you know –’

We both stop.

He licks his lips, still unmoving, his face half shaved. ‘Dori, tonight is your birthday celebration. Let me take you out – let’s have our night out, and we can talk later, or tomorrow.’

I’m a coward. A willing coward, complicit in my own fall. I’ve never told him that I love him, as if refusing to say it aloud would somehow shield us both, but it hasn’t. Like an untamed, sentient thing, full of all I am and yet estranged from me, my heart discerns its own truth and knows that this omission is a lie.

‘Okay,’ I whisper.

‘Okay,’ he says.

REID

I want to shake Brooke until her perfectly straight, Hollywood-white teeth rattle. God f**king damn her timing. I don’t know what message she left, but I suspect it’s a Why haven’t you signed that form yet call – which can wait, because she’s going to give me hell over my answer.

Dori and I finish dressing in silence, and when she’s done, she looks more beautiful than she’s ever looked – while clothed. The deep blue of her dress reveals the flawless tone of her warm skin, and matches my eyes besides. The clingy knit hugs the lush curves of her hips, and nips at her waist, while the neckline plunges just low enough to give a hint of her perfect br**sts. She was made to wear clothes that fit her like a second skin.

Still, nothing compares to how damned gorgeous she is when there’s nothing between us. In my bed – or hers – with her modest demeanour suspended and her curious nature aroused, she’s everything I could ever want.

‘Your tie matches my dress,’ she says, running a finger over the silky pattern down the centre of my chest. ‘And your eyes.’ I packed a crisp white shirt and a dark grey jacket and slacks, plus an assortment of ties, intending to match whatever dress she chose today.

We’re taking one last look at ourselves and each other before we exit the room, the mirror reflecting how very different but complementary we are – my build still angled and a bit boyish, but tall and broad-shouldered next to her smaller, softer frame of arcs and curves. Our colouring contrasts too – my blue eyes and dirty blond hair next to her almost black eyes and smooth mahogany curls. I imagine pulling those pins from her hair, one by one, and pushing my fingers through the soft strands.

‘How many hairpins did you use?’ I ask, my words seeming like so much small talk while I’m picturing her beneath me in a few hours’ time, hair spread across the pillow like a spill of ink.

She smiles, but permeating every tic of her mouth is an underlying sadness that I’m determined to wipe away, no matter what I have to do. I will make her forget that badly timed call – for tonight, at least.

‘I’m not sure. A lot?’

Pulling her to me, I don’t have to bend as far to kiss her. When I pull away, I smile down at her. ‘Mmm, you’re wearing heels. Do me a favour – walk across the room and back. I won’t get to appreciate this view nearly as much as everyone else will tonight.’

She purses her lips, self-conscious, but she complies, turning to walk the length of the 2,000-square-foot suite.

Oh. God. Damn. Her hips sway, and my eyes are torn between following her curvaceous ass, her shapely, naked calves, or the arch of her neck – bare but for a few strategic tendrils allowed to escape the pins. She turns at the opposite end of the room, eyes widening in confusion at the look on my face, and I wonder how the hell that’s possible – because she just looked in the mirror, didn’t she?

As she returns, I find that it’s no easier to decide what to focus on from this perspective. Same flawlessly muscled legs and rounded hips, with the addition of those perfect br**sts and her beautiful face.

‘We need to leave now,’ I say gruffly when she reaches me. ‘Right now. Or else I’m going to toss you on that bed,’ I take her in my arms and whisper into her ear, ‘and f**k you senseless.’

She leans into me and gasps softly, flushing scarlet, fingers crushing the sleeves of my jacket and digging into my arms.

‘Let’s just put that on the agenda for our return, shall we?’ I kiss her one more time, gently, carefully, and then pluck her tiny clutch from the dresser and lead her from the room, never releasing her hand.

The paparazzi find us between the valet stand and the restaurant door, which is no big shock, considering I shaved and ditched the classic celebrity disguise – hat and sunglasses. They get off a few shots while bellowing my name. They don’t know Dori’s yet – too slow to match my designer-swathed date with her Habitat girl alter ego.

Once we enter the restaurant, all the diners and every employee from the head waiter to the chef are aware that a paparazzi-worthy guest has arrived. The whole place is either staring or trying not to. So much for a private, low-key meal.

‘That wasn’t too bad, was it?’ I ask, holding Dori’s hand across the tiny candlelit table, ignoring the audience and hoping she can as well.