Kiss It Better (11 page)

‘Here we are.’

Cassie stopped and studied the building. Red brick and solid, with a sort of elegance despite the fact it had started life as a warehouse, but had been renovated and extended backwards on its plot. The carefully re-painted old lettering said, ‘Brigid Care, 1907’. It was three storeys high.

‘We used to manufacture our products here, but in the 1950s Great-Granddad moved production out to the industrial fringe of the new suburbia. That’s where the workers were building their homes in the post-war construction boom.’ Theo pushed the door open. Inside the light was bright but not too bright, respecting the feel of the Edwardian era and the restrained office fit-out. ‘Fortunately, the family kept the warehouse for sentimental reasons, renting it out till Dad saw St Kilda’s resurgence and its closeness to the business district, and transferred our headquarters here where we could emphasise our history.’

‘Smart.’

So was the wood panelling, black and white chequered floor tiles, hints of brass and the rich red and green of an old-fashioned men’s club’s library — or at least, what she’d seen of them in movies.

Behind the wooden desk, a receptionist stowed her handbag in a drawer and straightened up to smile a greeting at Theo. Probably the same receptionist who’d helped stonewall Cassie yesterday. The woman frankly stared when Theo made introductions and said Cassie had the freedom of the building.

‘I think Jodie saw the news,’ Cassie whispered as she and Theo ascended an imposing set of stairs.

‘Would be hard to miss.’

Cassie glanced over the bannister.

Jodie was on the phone. She glanced up and their eyes met. The woman flinched and glanced away. She was definitely phoning someone about Cassie’s presence. Were her loyalties to Theo or his dad?

At Theo’s office, his secretary was replacing the phone. Well, that answered the question of Jodie’s loyalties: not to Theo or his dad, but to a fellow employee.

Cassie smiled.

‘Good morning, Theo, Ms Freedom,’ Ayesha Smith — nameplate at the front of her beautifully organised desk — greeted them graciously.

‘Cassie.’

‘I am Ayesha.’

Theo barely waited for the courtesies. ‘News travels faster than light in this place. Ayesha, Cassie will be in and out of the office while she’s staying with me. Can you sort out security for her, please?’

Not a flicker of Ayesha’s perfectly mascaraed lashes indicated she’d noticed Cassie’s lodgings. The woman was elegant. Late forties, perhaps early fifties, with a short, sleek black haircut and steel-grey suit with a softening pale-pink blouse and black high heels. Her fingernails matched the pink of the blouse.

Cassie was completely outclassed; her wry thought was that at least now she knew the standard to aspire to with this morning’s shopping.

Theo turned to her. ‘I’d show you around, but this morning is pretty busy. You can wander around or Ayesha could you give the tour?’

‘It’s an office building, Theo. I won’t get lost.’

He smiled. ‘But you might miss some stuff. We have a roof garden.’

‘Really? No, don’t tell me now. You’re busy.’ She thought about how a girlfriend would act. ‘I’ll window shop till the boutiques open. You can show me the roof garden tomorrow.’ She stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His hand rested naturally for a moment at her waist. ‘I’ll be back at ten thirty.’

‘Good luck with the shopping.’

‘I don’t need luck. I’m determined.’ And boy, was she. Expensive clothes would be like armour against Leighton’s lies and the ordeal of meeting Theo’s family knowing that they’d be judging her by those fabrications.

She passed a couple of men on the stairs and although they smiled as they said good morning, she thought their assessing stares indicated a chat with the busy receptionist. Cassie waggled her fingers Jodie — who was on the phone and looking guilty again — and stepped out. Car fumes had never smelled so good.

Time was against her. She had to find something, buy it, head back to Theo’s to change and then return here all glammed up.

A little black dress would be the safe choice. Boring though, and if she was to counteract Leighton’s story and that awful photo of her, then she needed a bit of drama.

She found it in a micro store that had painted its walls white, but also painted the floors white and hung mirrors anywhere there weren’t clothes, the tiny fitting room or the even smaller front counter. Despite the desperate attempts to create an illusion of space, the clothes worked.

The owner was a friendly guy her age who, on seeing her pressing her nose to the glass trying to see in, opened the door ten minutes early. After that she was determined to buy something, even if it didn’t have the perfect meet-the-they’ll-never-be-your-in-laws dress.

‘Wander around, sweetie, while I finish my cup of joe. Heaven bless caffeine. Last night was fun, but oh, this morning!’ he rambled while she flicked through clothing. Despite his claims of a hangover, he was sharp.

She picked a shift dress off the rack and held it up.

‘It’ll fit you,’ he said. ‘Trust me.’

‘Will I look like a liquorice all sorts if I wear it?’ she asked wryly, not sure if she was brave enough for the thick strips of candy colour and black.

‘Your boy will just yum you up.’

‘Actually, I’m meeting his parents.’

‘Ooh.’ The shop assistant jumped off his bar stool perch. ‘I’m Luke, designer as well as shop owner and clothing pusher.’

‘Cassie.’

‘Well, Cassie, just you try on that dress. Accent your waist with a black belt. Don’t worry, I’ll find one! And the highest of black high heels. You’ll look like a doll. Then later you can wear it barefoot and sans belt and be cute as a button.’

The dress fit, leaving her arms bare and hitting a bit above her knees. Thankfully she had enough of a tan to wear it, although this being Melbourne she’d need a jacket just in case.

It fit. It had drama.

‘Belt.’ A disembodied hand presented it around the edge of the curtain. ‘And I want to see.’

She rattled back the curtain.

‘Perfect.’ She had the designer’s approval.

‘Would you have a jacket or something that I could wear over it?’ Her trench coat wouldn’t work and her denim jacket had been new five years ago.

‘Black for meeting the parents. Where is…ta da!’

‘Crushed silk? Isn’t that for eveningwear? I’m meeting them for lunch.’

‘Silk is for any time of the day. Put it on. There. What did I tell you?’

The subtle shimmer of the silk made the candy colours of the dress appear a bold statement rather than a reversion to childhood.

‘I’ll take them both and the belt. And you’re a genius.’ She pulled the curtain closed. ‘I am in such a rush. I’ll be back, though. Can you tell me the nearest shoe shop?’

‘Round the corner, two shops up.’

‘Thanks.’ Dressed in her jeans and shirt again, but hair woefully messy, she handed over her credit card.

It processed and Luke handed it back, along with her life-saving purchases. ‘Sweetie, if your boy doesn’t appreciate the dress, I’m available.’

She laughed. ‘Thank you. I’ll remember.’

Average height, affectations and all, he was still a powerhouse, a man following his dream. It was compelling. People with purpose always were. People like Theo, and unlike her. But she pushed aside thoughts of how lost she was. Melbourne was for Theo and to repair some of the damage Leighton had caused.

Besides, denial was proving a safe place when it came to considering her future.

‘Bye, Luke.’

Shoes acquired — the highest black heels that fit and forget comfort — she popped into a chemist’s to add to the minimal cosmetics she’d brought with her, then raced for Theo’s house.

Make-up took the longest since she was out of practice. Her hair went back in the French plait she’d worn to work for years. It was the best style to contain all the strands and in a pinch it could pretend elegance. Fortunately the shoe shop had also sold a limited range of handbags, so she emptied the contents of her tote and shoved the essentials into the small designer bag. It had cost more than the dress.

Hair, make-up, her favourite Wild Times Lime JayBay perfume, dress — the figure hugging dress made her feel 1960s stylish — and heels.

‘Do not twist an ankle running to the office. Eek!’

Twenty past ten. So much for switching on her mobile and answering the calls and texts she’d missed.

She slammed the front door shut behind her and heard the deadlock engage, quickly locked the security screen and half-ran down to the footpath. The walk to the office had taken them about ten minutes this morning, but it was busier now and she was in heels. And she did not want to arrive hot, sweaty and rushed.

So she’d be a fashionable ten minutes late — except she hated being late.

Despite herself, she raced along, the new heels tapping loudly on the footpath until she was three buildings from Brigid Care, and only two minutes late.

Stop. Breathe.

She walked slowly, a woman with all the time in the world and no butterflies rioting in her tummy. What was the worst that could happen?

A photographer leapt out of the shadows of the re-purposed warehouse and snapped her photo.

‘Oh hell.’ She bared her teeth in a very false smile and took each step up to the warehouse carefully. The very last thing she needed was a photo of her falling over on the steps of Theo’s business.

It gave her great satisfaction to slam the door in the photographer’s face.

The receptionist glanced up, startled.

‘Photographer. Did you know?’ Cassie asked, but she had her answer in Jodie’s shocked expression. ‘Do not let him in.’

Jodie was already reaching for her phone when Cassie started up the stairs.

There was an elevator, but she preferred the stairs. They gave her time to think and delay. For instance, she could just keep walking up to the fabled roof garden.

Or turn around and walk straight out again.

A man, and it had to be Gordon Morrigan, Theo’s dad, was shouting from Theo’s office. ‘I will not remember my heart. Your son stands there, having been plastered across the media as a no-good schemer, telling me that he intends to prevent me being CEO again. Me! Eleven years as CEO. Good years. Seventeen years before that working in the company, learning the ropes, proving myself. Now he thinks he can waltz in and take all that from me.’

Ayesha saw Cassie in the doorway of the outer office, got up and hurried around her desk. ‘Mr Morrigan is a bit excited.’

Angry, more like. ‘I heard.’

When Cassie showed no signs of bolting, Ayesha relaxed a bit. ‘Theo asked that I tell him when you arrived. If you wouldn’t mind waiting?’

‘No problem.’ And then, impulsively. ‘Ayesha, were you Theo’s dad’s secretary once?’

‘Yes.’ Nothing more. Whatever Ayesha’s opinions and loyalty, they were private. ‘Excuse me.’ She vanished into the inner office.

A few seconds later, Theo emerged. He caught sight of her and froze.

In all the drama, she’d forgotten her appearance.

Theo noticed it. ‘Darlin’, you’re gorgeous. Like a giant lollypop.’

Over his shoulder, she glimpsed an older man scowling at them. She put a hand on Theo’s shoulder as he kissed her lightly on the mouth. ‘There’s a photographer lurking outside.’

Theo stilled, face close to hers. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I smiled through the ambush.’

Some of his battle-ready tension relaxed. ‘You’ll look beautiful in the photos. I don’t know about the rest of the family.’

‘What’s that?’ The older man pushed forward. He appeared healthy, well-recovered from his heart attack, and endearingly ugly with a large nose and stubborn chin. His ears stuck out a bit, too.

Cassie couldn’t help checking Theo’s ears, in case she hadn’t noticed. Nope, his ears were as perfect as the rest of him.

‘Cassie, meet my dad, Gordon Morrigan. Dad, this is Cassie Freedom, fellow victim of her cousin Leighton’s outright lies.’

Cassie held out her hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Morrigan.’

His handclasp was longer than polite as he studied her.

‘And this is Mum.’

‘Louise.’ Mrs Morrigan nudged her husband aside. In her heels, she was an inch taller than him. She had beautiful hairstyle coloured to a rich dark red, and wore a little black dress with pearls and a cream jacket edged in black brocade. Her smile was kind. ‘Theo was just saying you’re friends?’

‘Now I feel like I’m back in high school,’ he muttered.

‘We met while he was in Jardin Bay talking with Dad.’

‘Buying that — ’ A frown from his wife silenced Gordon Morrigan. ‘Hrrmph.’

Cassie decided to be equally direct. ‘I guess you’ve seen on the news this morning that I was feeling down after a bit over a year in Africa. Theo helped me put things into perspective. Your son’s surprisingly smart behind his mask of sex god good looks.’

Gordon spluttered. Louise blinked. At her desk, Ayesha coughed suddenly.

Theo laughed and gave her a one-armed hug. ‘Thanks, babe.’

None of it distracted Cassie from the point she intended to make. ‘Only an idiot would underestimate Theo. He cares about people.’

‘Hrrmph,’ from Gordon said he’d gotten the point. But he disagreed. ‘What was your cousin Leighton thinking, taking this shit to the media? Theo says the man should be charged with fraud, but your dad refused to because the boy’s family.’

‘Dad.’

Cassie squeezed Theo’s hand. She’d handle this. ‘Leighton isn’t anything special. There’s nothing like being in the wrong to turn a man vicious.’ She held Gordon’s gaze, making her meaning crystal clear: don’t be an idiot.

‘Now I see why you said the media stories were all lies.’ Louise sounded amused. ‘Cassie doesn’t need a champion. She is one.’

Cassie broke off her staring contest with the woman’s husband to smile, a tad embarrassed by the compliment.

Louise hooked an arm through hers. ‘The board meeting’s in ten minutes,’ she told her husband and son. ‘Don’t be late. Cassie and I will meet you for lunch.’

‘Um.’ They would?

‘Mum, Cassie might already have plans. She said she wanted to shop…’