The Best Laid Plans Page 16

  “Stain my Armani and you’ll suffer the consequences.”

  She’d run out of banter. For a moment she floundered, then she saw the wife of one of the partners standing with a group inside the hall.

  “Look, there’s Joan. I’d better go say hello.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond as she walked away from him.

  She did her best to avoid him during the standing-around, drinks-and-canapés stage of the evening, keeping a watch out of the corners of her eyes and moving on whenever she saw him approaching. She couldn’t do anything about the fact that they were seated at the same table at dinner, however, since the seating had been preordained by one of the senior partners’ wives. Thank heaven for small mercies, Ethan was three people to her left and she didn’t have to endure the torture of sitting next to him all evening, but she was nonetheless intensely aware of everything he did and said. She knew that he asked for a cabernet instead of a chardonnay to drink with his main. She heard him discussing a recent High Court finding with Keith Lancaster on his left. If she turned her head she could see his long, elegant hands, busy with cutlery and his wineglass and describing his words in the air.

  She had no recall of what she said to either Gideon Lambert on her left or Sammy Master’s wife on her right through the starter and main course, but neither of them seemed to notice anything amiss. She managed to choke down half her poached chicken with baby vegetables, and for once she allowed herself to break her one-drink-only rule for work functions. By the time dessert rolled around she was feeling numb around the edges. Not the worst way to be, considering the revelations of the evening.

  The waiter had just delivered their desserts when Gideon leaned toward her.

  “Would you mind swapping desserts?” he asked. “I have a bit of a thing for lemon meringue pie.”

  Gideon had scored the black forest gâteau. She hated cherries with a passion, but she didn’t really want dessert anyway and Gideon was eyeing her lemon meringue pie as though it was made from solid gold.

  “Of course,” she said.

  She was about to switch plates when Ethan leaned forward to address Gideon.

  “You can have mine, Gideon,” he said. “I was hoping for the gâteaux.”

  She looked at him directly for the first time since their brief conversation in the foyer. He winked at her and she recalled that she’d once told him that she hated cherries.

  And he’d remembered.

  She returned her gaze to her plate. Had he happened to tune in to what Gideon was saying at the opportune moment? Or was it possible he’d been as aware of her as she’d been of him all night?

  It was such a willfully stupid, hopeful thing to wish for. She pushed back her chair abruptly. She needed some time out. And maybe a few glasses of water to counteract all the alcohol she’d been drinking.

  She made her way into the foyer and retraced her steps along the red carpet until she found the ladies’ room near the front entrance.

  She pushed through the door. The space was blissfully quiet and empty after the noise of a thousand people eating and talking and laughing at once.

  She stood in the open space between the cubicles and the sinks and closed her eyes and simply concentrated on breathing for a few minutes. In, out. In, out.

  God, I want this night to be over.

  She opened her eyes. She had a date with Daniel Lowe tomorrow night, and sometime before then she was going to have to decide whether to keep it now that she’d stopped lying to herself and acknowledged her own feelings.

  She was in love with Ethan.

  Not exactly a newsflash. She’d seen it coming, after all. Tried to avoid it. And yet here she was.

  She eyed herself in the mirror. There was nothing she could do about it. Not now, after the fact. She’d fallen for Ethan. It was done. Now she had to begin the slow and painful process of getting over him.

  The woman in the mirror smiled, but it was not a happy smile.

  How was she supposed to work with him, have lunch with him, play racquetball with him when she loved him? How was she supposed to not give her feelings away with every word and gesture and glance? How was she supposed to endure being so close and yet not close enough?

  You’ve survived worse.

  She had. Of course she had. And she’d survive this, because that was what she did.

  But just once, it would have been nice—

  She didn’t let herself finish the thought. Life wasn’t about What Ifs. As she’d once said to Ethan, life was about what you had, and what you could get, and what you could do with it. And she knew without asking that she couldn’t have Ethan. He was the most un-have-able man she knew.

  The door to the bathroom swung open and a trio of women entered, their high heels clicking on the tiled floor. Alex exchanged friendly smiles with them as she headed for the door.

  Another hour or so and she could go home.

  Thank. God.

  ETHAN HAD BEEN a good boy. He’d kept his distance from Alex all week. Any time they’d run into each other in the kitchenette he’d talked about work and the weather and the economy. A couple of times they’d talked about something Jamie or Tim had said or done. Not once had Ethan asked about her upcoming date. Even though the thought of her going out with some other guy was burning a hole in his gut.

  Now, he watched as she returned to the table. She looked…amazing. Sleek and feminine and sexy. She’d worn her hair up and every time she moved her head the sway of her earrings drew his eye to the elegant line of her neck.

  In the good old days, pre-couch, he’d have teased her about dressing so dangerously for a Heart Foundation event, of all things. He’d have told her she was a walking cardiac arrest waiting to happen, then he’d have spent half the night making her laugh and talking to her and simply enjoying her.

  But they’d lost the ease in their relationship since they’d slept with each other.

  He watched her out of the corners of his eyes as they drank coffee and the party finally began to break up for some post-dinner table-hopping and chat. She said something to Keith Lancaster, smiled, then stood. Then she collected her small evening bag and started weaving her way toward the exit.

  He was on his feet before he could even think about it. Muttering a hasty excuse to his dinner companions, he followed Alex into the crowd.

  He didn’t know why he was following her, or what he was going to say to her when he caught up with her. All he knew was that he didn’t want to go home tonight without having spent some time with her.

  She lengthened her stride when she left the Great Hall. He ducked around a waiter and followed her onto the red carpet.

  “Alex.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, then slowed her steps.

  “Ethan.”

  “You’re not going home?”

  “Busted. My feet are killing me. And we’ve got work tomorrow.”

  “It’s early days yet. Why don’t we go find some place where they won’t mind you being barefoot while we have a nightcap?”

  The Southbank precinct was just around the corner. There were several good bars and restaurants there they could choose from.

  “Thanks, but I was really hoping for an early night.”

  “Right. You’ve got your big date tomorrow night, haven’t you?”

  “That’s the one. Candidate number one.”

  Don’t say another word. Shut your mouth and back away.

  “Where’s he taking you?” he asked.

  “Vue du Monde.”

  “Wow. Pulling out all the stops.”

  “I guess. Listen, I want to try to catch a cab before there’s a queue.” She gestured toward the foyer and took a step away from him.

  “I’ll walk you.”

  They resumed walking toward the entrance.

  “So, what’s this guy do again?” he asked.

  “Um, he’s a doctor. A gastroenterologist.”

  “A gut man.”

  “Yep.”

>   They pushed through the doors into the cold night air. Alex glanced around for a taxi line, her arms crossed against the cold.

  “So, let me guess. He drives a BMW, has a house in Kew, lunches at the Melbourne Club?” He knew he should stop, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to know.

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask him tomorrow night. I thought there was a taxi stand around here somewhere?”

  She was rubbing her arms now, her shoulders hunched.

  “Here.” He shrugged out of his jacket.

  “Oh, no. I couldn’t. Then you’ll be cold.”

  “I’m tougher than you.”

  Before she could protest again he dropped his jacket around her shoulders. She ducked her head for a moment, then she pulled the edges of his jacket closer as she lifted her face and met his eyes.

  “Thanks.”

  The streetlight struck red notes in her hair. She was wearing a different perfume from her usual, something heavier with more musk. His gaze followed the line of her neck, then her cheek. She was beautiful and fine—and she was going out with another man tomorrow night. A doctor. A guy who’d wooed her with phone calls and emails and would finish the job with a meal at Melbourne’s most acclaimed restaurant.

  “He’s not good enough for you, you know.”

  Alex looked at him, confusion in her eyes. “Who?”

  “The gut doctor.”

  “You haven’t even met him yet.”

  “I don’t need to meet him.”

  She stared at him for a beat. Then her gaze slid over his shoulder and she stepped out into the street and raised her hand. A taxi swerved to the curb. She turned to face him, shrugging his coat off.

  “Keep it,” he said when she offered it to him.

  “I’m fine now,” she said, arm still extended.

  “Give it back to me at work tomorrow.” He took a step backward. For some reason he really wanted her to go home in his jacket.

  “All right. Thank you.” She walked to the cab and slid into the backseat. She didn’t put his coat back on, he noted. Instead, she draped it across her lap. And she didn’t look back as the taxi pulled out into the traffic.

  It was only when the taxi was long gone that he realized he was staring at nothing and that it was damned cold.

  He shouldn’t have said anything about her date. He shouldn’t have asked anything, and he definitely shouldn’t have said that thing about the guy not being good enough for her.

  She wanted a family. She believed in happy-ever-after. Next time the subject of Mr. Perfect the Wonder Healer came up, he’d bite his tongue. If it killed him. He’d already made his decision. He simply had to stick to it.

  ALEX CANCELED HER DATE with Daniel Lowe first thing the following morning. She told herself she should go, that he might be a lovely man and she’d be missing out, but she knew that going out with him would be tantamount to leading him on. She had no business going out with another man when she was in love with Ethan.

  She had trouble focusing for the rest of the day. For the first time in many, many years, she felt overwhelmed by life. She’d always been a planner, a doer, but there was nothing to do when you loved someone who was out of reach.

  Oh, she could probably seduce Ethan again if she wanted to. She was grown up enough and sophisticated enough to create a situation where she could tempt him and he’d allow himself to be tempted. She’d seen the admiration and desire in his eyes last night. If she played her cards right, she might even be able to negotiate some sort of relationship with him, the kind of thing that she assumed he enjoyed with his other women—no strings, sex, a bit of companionship.

  No children. No love. No sense that he belonged to her and she belonged to him. None of the things that Alex wanted from a relationship.

  She wouldn’t do it to herself, even though a part of her was tempted. Even though a little voice in the back of her head whispered that maybe, if she bided her time, he might change.

  She’d played that game before, for seven years. She’d waited and loved and hoped and yet here she was, nearly thirty-nine, on her own, childless.

  Not again. I can’t do it again. I can’t live on hope anymore.

  It was such a waste. Ethan was a good man. He had a lot of love to give—it was evident in every interaction he had with his brother and sister-in-law and nephews. And he’d been so attentive and thoughtful and generous with her. He would have made a great father, and, once upon a time, an incredible husband. But his marriage had broken something fundamental in him.

  The incredibly sad thing was that she suspected he was lonely. He could surround himself with designer furniture and clothes and buy as many beautiful, sleek cars as he liked but none of it was going to make up for the fact that he would only ever experience family life secondhand through his brother. She’d seen him with those kids, and she’d seen the way he looked at Kay and Derek. He wanted the picket-fence dream. He simply didn’t believe in it anymore.

  She left work early but didn’t go straight home. Instead, she went to Albert Park Lake and slipped off her pumps and put on her running shoes and walked around and around until the streetlights came on. Then she went home and poured herself a huge glass of wine and sat on her balcony, staring out at the world. It was cold out and after a while she went back inside and shrugged into Ethan’s tuxedo jacket. She knew it was pathetic—the worst kind of teenage, maudlin droopiness—but she couldn’t help herself. She sat on her balcony with her knees drawn to her chest, her heels resting on the front of the seat, the jacket wrapped around as much of her as it would cover.

  She inhaled the smell of Ethan and looked out at the big, noisy city and drank her wine.

  Maybe she’d take a leave of absence and go on a holiday, a good long one. She’d always wanted to return to France and explore Spain. Maybe she could fly to Paris and hire a car and drive around. It would be summer in the northern hemisphere. The wind would be warm instead of cold. She wouldn’t have to wake up every day and know that she might see Ethan at work and that if she did, she’d have to smile and laugh and pretend nothing had changed between them and that if she didn’t she would be miserable and wondering and her day would be that little bit less bright and less alive….

  She rested her forehead on her knees and hugged herself tightly. She wanted…so much. She had so much longing inside her. And it was all pointless.

  I love you, Ethan Stone. But I wish I didn’t. I really, really wish I didn’t.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ETHAN CHECKED THE TIME again. It was nearly eleven. Was she home yet? Or was Doctor Smoothy taking her somewhere for a nightcap? Worse, was he taking her back to his place so he could—

  Someone nudged his foot and he glanced up to find his brother standing over him.

  “I need to go to bed. And you need to go home.”

  Ethan opened his mouth to complain that the movie wasn’t finished yet then registered the blank TV screen and utter silence.

  “When did the movie finish?” he asked.

  “About half an hour ago. You were too busy brooding to notice.”

  “I wasn’t brooding. I’ve got a big case on at the moment. I was going over some stuff in my head.”

  “You’ve been hunched over like the human question mark all night. You’ve barely said a word to the kids. Do you know what Tim said before he went to bed?”

  Ethan had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it, whatever it was. Tim could be a keen observer of humanity when he wanted to be. Plus the kid had a pithy tongue. “What?”

  “He said you reminded him of the sad orangutan we saw at the zoo last week. The one who looked like he shouldn’t be allowed near loaded weapons.”

  “Tell Tim thanks from me.” Ethan stood and reached for his coat. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

  Derek growled in the back of his throat. “Or you could talk to me about whatever it is that’s going on.”

  “Nothing’s going on.”

  Kay stepped forwar
d and stood on her tiptoes to kiss Ethan good-night.

  “I’ll leave you two big bulls to lock horns.”

  “We’re not locking anything. I’m going home,” Ethan said.

  “Either way.” Kay gave Derek’s arm a squeeze as she walked past and disappeared through the door to the bedrooms.

  Ethan dug in his pocket for his car keys. “Sorry for keeping you up. And I’ll make it up to the kids next time.”

  “This is about Alex, right?”

  “Derek, it’s all right, you don’t need to play Dr. Phil. I’ll see you next week, okay?”

  “Man, you drive me nuts when you brush me off like that. Did it ever occur to you that I might be worried about you?”

  Ethan paused in the act of pulling on his jacket. Derek was serious, his face creased with concern and frustration.

  Ethan straightened his collar. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

  “Yeah? You know what this reminds me of? The time after Cassie left.”

  Ethan bristled, his pride stung. He’d been a mess when Cassie had dropped her bombshell. He was more than happy to acknowledge that. He’d hit rock bottom so hard he’d never thought he’d come up again.

  Whatever was going on with Alex, it wasn’t anything near the intensity of those dark days. They weren’t married, for starters, and Alex hadn’t made promises to him. He hadn’t woven all his visions of the future around her and the idea of the two of them growing old together. He’d kept his distance, kept things nice and clean between them.

  Except for that one night when he’d kissed her and she’d kissed him back.

  But pretty soon even that would be a faded memory. As for the fact that he felt like ripping the head off someone every time he thought about Alex being out with another guy…that would pass, too.

  “This is nothing like that.”

  “You can’t give up on life because you fouled on the first ball, Ethan. You’ve got to keep slugging away.”

  “I haven’t given up on anything.” It pissed him off that his brother had reduced eight years of marriage—the intimate details of which he knew nothing about—down to a sporting analogy.