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He searched for something more neutral to talk about. “And you? On a break?”
“I got promoted to head office,” she said.
Head office. That meant she was in Sydney. Full-time. Great that she’d got the step up she wanted. Great she was off the boat. Maybe they could—could what? All his calculations crumbled around him. Michaela was here in Sydney. Available? Dylan’s head hummed with the possibilities. “Great. Probably a perfect fit for you…”
His cell buzzed.
Work interrupting again. Maybe this was good. Give her time to digest who he really was. That he lived and worked close by. “Look, I have to go, but please let me explain.” He wanted nothing more than to tell her everything right here, right now, but this turn of events was overwhelming. For him, if not for her. He had to be able to tell her why he’d left, but only when they had time to talk properly. And when his cell wasn’t buzzing insistently.
Checking the diary on his phone, he saw a free spot. “We’ll have dinner tonight. I’ll send a car for you. No—” He stopped her as she opened her mouth to speak. “Please don’t refuse. We should talk. You’ll be picked up at six.”
And with that he ran off into the towering building, guilt and a flicker of hope coursing through him.
Chapter Twelve
She walked back to her office in a daze. Dylan was here in Sydney, and he wanted to see her. The glimmer of hope flared, but she pushed it aside to concentrate on what had just happened. He wanted to see her. Was that what he’d said, that he wanted to see her? Or did he just want to end their affair properly?
Had she been mistaken, or had he actually looked guilty?
Angry and confused, she tried to make sense of the little he’d told her, but it was impossible. She didn’t know enough to make sense of it.
The towering office blocks transformed themselves into a dense forest, and Michaela became disoriented. She found it difficult to distinguish between the grays of the buildings and those of the road, and it wasn’t until some stranger grabbed her arm that she realized she had almost walked out in front of the busy oncoming traffic.
Snap out of it.
When she finally reached her office, she went straight to the toilets to splash water on her face.
The surprise both of seeing Dylan in his real world and of his effect on her scattered Michaela’s concentration as effectively as an elephant sitting in the corner of the office. She pushed through a few phone calls and managed a paragraph on the report she was supposed to be writing, but mostly she stared out the window, looking at the city she now called home. The city that Dylan apparently called home, too.
Just before six o’clock, she nipped back to the bathroom, this time to check her hair. She smoothed it into a neat ponytail and dabbed on a slick of lip gloss. Her tan hadn’t yet faded—she’d topped it up over the weekend, strolling along the coastline walk at Bondi Beach—but as she looked at herself she shook her head.
Perhaps she shouldn’t go to dinner.
Get real. She wanted to see him, needed to hear how Dylan would explain why he’d ended their affair so abruptly. No, she would go to dinner, but that would be all. After confronting him about his callous abandonment, she could finally get Dylan Johns completely out of her mind, out of her life, and out of her heart. He’d been sneaking in to torment her thoughts more than she liked to admit. The wolf dream was a sign she hadn’t moved on. Tonight, she’d find out what she needed to know, and then she’d wash her hands of Dylan Johns for good.
She put a hand to her belly. No. There was nothing to worry about there. No reason for Dylan to be tied to her life anymore.
With a sigh, she gave her hair a final pat and went downstairs to meet the driver.
She’d expected a cab or perhaps a modest sedan, so when the sleek new Jaguar pulled up alongside the curb, she paid it no attention.
“Ms. Western?” The driver was in a suit as sharp as Dylan’s, and Michaela had to shake her head to believe what she was seeing. “Mr. Johns asked me to collect you. He said he’d spoken to you and you’d be expecting me. Is there something wrong?”
With a start, Michaela realized she was staring, and she gave the driver a tight smile. As she slid into the black leather interior, she realized why Dylan had been so keen to pay for all their excursions off the cruise ship. She’d thought he was just trying to be gentlemanly, especially as she knew she was making more money than he was, but it seemed his small dancer’s salary was irrelevant to his day-to-day life.
The car was impeccable and still had that indefinable but immediately recognizable new car smell. Touching the cool leather hand rest, Michaela pictured Dylan sitting in this car, driving this car, even accompanying other women in this car. She shivered and banished the thought. She looked down at her pale blue silk shirt and the simple black pencil skirt she’d bought in her first few days in Sydney. They were smart enough for the office—indeed, they fit in well with the business uniform of most of Sydney’s female workforce—but in this car they were entirely too reserved, lacking the glamour the Jaguar promised.
The car whisked her through the Sydney city streets, making good time despite the heavy traffic. The late summer evening was cooling when the driver pulled up outside an exclusive restaurant overlooking the harbor, and Michaela wished she’d brought her jacket.
Dylan was waiting for her, his hair whipped by the wind, apparently impervious to the cold. She scolded her heart to stop its happy skipping so she could concentrate on the anger she needed to get through the evening unscathed.
A gust of wind whipped through her thin blouse, bringing goose pimples to her skin as she stepped out of the car. “You came.” Dylan tried to take her elbow, but she shrugged him off, not prepared to test her resistance to his touch just yet. Be calm, be calm, be calm.
“Of course I came. I figured I might as well get a nice dinner out of you.” She tried to keep her face serious, her eyes hard even while her heart was cracking. The pain of his abandonment felt as fresh now as it had been at first.
He straightened, his jaw locking. “A nice dinner you shall have. I should’ve called you, even if I couldn’t face you at the time. I made the wrong decision, Michaela. I’m sorry. Come in, we have a table with a wonderful view.”
Michaela followed him into the restaurant and congratulated herself on being strong. Let him think she was just after some payback. After all, he was loaded. Thinking about him as nothing more than an arrogant, rich man might keep him out of her heart until she could move on.
