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Staring into his eyes, the flecks glowing cobalt, she knew there was only one answer she could give him: the sensible one.
He dropped his hands as she nodded slowly. “Okay. Thanks for the offer.”
She could’ve sworn he sagged with relief and the depth of his caring struck her anew.
“Great. Ready to go?”
“Actually, I need to finalize some stuff before tomorrow, so why don’t you go ahead and I’ll swing past your place later?”
“No, I’ll wait.”
She laid a hand on his arm, hoping to convey her thanks at his chivalry. “I’ll be fine. It’s still early. There are people everywhere and I’ll be sure to leave before dark.”
His inscrutable gaze flickered to her hand for a moment. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”
Indecision warred with stubbornness across his expressive face so she squeezed his arm. “Go. I promise I won’t be long behind you.”
After a long moment, he covered her hand with his. “Call me if you need someone to walk you out of here, okay?”
Smiling at his over protectiveness, and feeling suitably warm and fuzzy because of it, she said, “Okay.”
“I live in the Eureka Towers on Southbank. Apartment 8801. I’ll buzz you up when you get there. Take care.”
After pressing an all too brief kiss on her cheek, he walked away, leaving her with the craziest urge to run after him.
Chapter Six
Camryn stared at the elevator buttons in confusion.
“This can’t be right,” she thought, wondering if she should pop out to the doorman and ask him to re-buzz Blane.
According to the fancy engraved writing above the gold buttons, there was only one apartment, 8801, on the entire eighty-eighth floor of the swank Eureka Towers. Only one? Considering the building was 92 storeys, and the 88thwas the highest anyone could access, she’d hazard a guess Blane lived in the penthouse.
A penthouse that covered an entire floor?
Shaking her head in disbelief, she hit the button for 8801 and backed up against the rear of the elevator, deriving small comfort from the cold, gold-plated steel panels at her back, while her startled reflection stared back at her from mirrored glass.
Either Blane made an absolute fortune out of building or he was house-sitting for someone. And if so, he moved in higher circles than she did.
She vaguely remembered the publicity surrounding the Towers when it first opened years ago, about it being the tallest residential tower in the world and a penthouse costing aroundseven million dollars. The figure would’ve trebled by now and she felt faint, acerbated by the nine-second ride to the 88thfloor.
Blinking as the doors soundlessly slid open, she stepped out, pulling a small wheelie suitcase, and caught her breath at the pale gold carpets embossed with cream swirls, the filigree around the down-lights, and the incredibly detailed cornices. Classy.
After pressing the doorbell she smoothed her skirt, her stomach churning with nerves. It had nothing to do with the ostentatiousness of this place and everything to do with the man about to open the door, a man she couldn’t stop thinking about, a man with the potential to distract her from her number one goal: to make theNichethe best café in Melbourne.
She didn’t do distractions. She couldn’t afford to. Her success in the city was the only thing that kept the loneliness at bay, kept her focussed enough to not lament the loss of her husband, a possible baby, and a family that had betrayed her trust in them.
As the door swung open, she fixed a smile on her face and forced her hands to her sides. If she smoothed her skirt any more it would look like she’d spent the last hour ironing. Bad enough she’d decided to change without him thinking she’d gone overboard.
“Hey, Cam. Come on in.” His easy smile welcomed but she still felt like turning and running. He wore sand coloured chinos, a casual white shirt, and was barefoot, looking laid-back and mussed and sexy all at the same time.
Thanks.” She entered, his fresh-from-the-shower scent not playing fair with her riotous nerves. “Nice place. Though kind of small, isn’t it?”
He chuckled at her sarcasm, took her suitcase, propped it near the door and propelled her forward with a gentle touch to her back, an innocuous touch that had no right playing havoc with her body.
“I like my space.”
