Romance for Cynics (14 page)

She couldn’t stop, her inner resentment spilling out in a torrent. Every worry she’d harboured about him, every insecurity of hers, coalesced into this shocking moment that left them both reeling.

She knew she’d gone too far the moment the harsh words tumbled from her mouth. She wished she could take them back when he paled and stood stock-still, not even blinking.

‘Cash, I’m sorry—’

‘No you’re not.’ His flat, emotionless monotone scared her as much as his blank expression. ‘Good to know what you think of me. But you want to know something? I’d rather have clear goals in my life than not having any ambition and settling for a life of nothing because of some crap that happened in the past.’

Lucy stared at the man she’d thought she loved, wondering how she could have got it so wrong. Again.

Sorrow clogged her throat and she swallowed several times before responding. ‘I’m happy being a gardener. It’s not
nothing
.’ She jabbed a finger in his direction. ‘And you know nothing about my marriage so shut the hell up.’

She scored a direct hit as remorse flickered in his eyes. ‘I know that whatever happened back then has made you into the woman you are today, scared to take a risk because you may get hurt again.’

Not willing to have this conversation with him, Lucy shook her head. ‘You don’t know anything about me.’

She hiked up her skirt in one hand and carefully descended the steps, a small part of her wishing he’d come after her.

He didn’t and as a taxi miraculously appeared in front of her she quickly got in and gave her address to the driver.

Lucy willed herself not to look back, but as the taxi slid away from the kerb she glanced out of the window. Cash’s stricken pallor almost as cold as the town hall he was silhouetted against as he stood alone, hands thrust into his pockets, a devastatingly handsome man in a tux without the woman who’d been willing to give him everything.

THIRTEEN

By eight the
next morning, Cash had fielded three phone calls from new clients, responded to five emails and watched an investment he’d made in a new company just launched on the New York stock exchange make four of his oldest clients very rich.

It should’ve been a good day.

The commission he’d earn from the new clients, most of them gained through socialising last night, would be huge, and the connections he’d made would ensure that his company remained intact.

Everything he’d worked so hard for, saved.

Yeah, this should be a great day.

Instead, all the money in the world couldn’t fix his crappy mood.

Only one woman could do that and she’d made it abundantly clear what she thought of him.

How the hell had he got it so wrong with Lucy?

He swept a stack of papers off his desk as Barton stuck his head around the study door.

‘Bad time?’

‘Yeah,’ Cash growled, wishing he could tell his best mate to rack off. No point ruining two relationships in twelve hours.

‘Tough. We need to celebrate.’ Bart strode into his study and dumped a stack of newspapers on his desk. ‘I know you’ve probably seen these online but never hurts to keep paper relics of your greatest successes.’

Cash pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing the dull ache that had resided there since last night would vanish. ‘I take it your company is pleased with the outcome of the Valentine’s Day couple crap?’

‘Crap?’ Bart’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I thought you and Lucy were right into it.’

‘You knew it was fake from the start,’ he said, his bitterness audible. ‘I got what I wanted, so did she.’

Bart’s eyes crinkled in confusion. ‘But you two...I mean, it looked like...’

‘Appearances can be deceiving,’ Cash said, pushing back from his desk to cross his office and stare out of the window. At the garden that would soon be refurbished. By Lucy, strutting around here every day.

Hell.

‘Sure they can, which is why I thought you two weren’t faking it at the end.’

Cash heard the rustle of newspaper, before Bart said, ‘Here. Take a look at this.’

The last thing Cash wanted to see was anything remotely connected to Lucy, but the faster he acquiesced to Bart’s demands, the faster he could get rid of him.

‘What is it?’

‘A recap of your hot and heavy romance with the luscious Lucy.’ Bart held up a broadsheet, covered from top to bottom with pictures of him and Lucy taken over the last week.

Lucy hand-feeding him strawberries at the picnic.

Lucy’s arms looped around his neck as he carried her off the skating rink.

Lucy’s lips locked on his at the disco.

And many more, each pic depicting a happy, smiling, laughing Lucy. With him looking like a smitten, devoted schmuck.

‘Looks pretty real to me,’ Bart said, shoving the newspaper into his hands. ‘So why are you feeding me a load of BS that says otherwise?’

‘Because it’s not real...’ Cash said, trailing off when he caught sight of a small picture, tucked away at the bottom, right-hand corner of the page.

It was the same still he’d seen on his computer before the ball. The picture that had made him realise he loved her.

So what had happened last night to make Lucy change from an adoring woman who appeared to be in love to a raving shrew who despised him and all he stood for?

‘If that’s not real, I’ll pose as your Valentine’s Day date next year,’ Bart said, swallowing a guffaw when Cash shot him a death glare.

‘This isn’t funny.’ Cash folded the newspaper and threw it on his desk. Yeah, as if that could erase those happy snaps from his mind.

‘Sure it is.’ Bart smirked. ‘Never thought I’d see the day when a woman brought you to your knees, you big dufus. No one can fake looking like that. Looking like they’re in love.’

‘I’m not in l—’

Bart sniggered. ‘Yeah, keep telling yourself that, big guy. In the meantime, in case you waste any more time stewing over whatever has you in a snit, don’t forget it’s Valentine’s Day.
The
perfect day for grovelling.’ Bart shrugged. ‘If there’s a need to, that is. Just saying.’

So Bart had a point.

Through all the confusion of the last week—faking it at the events, revealing glimpses of their true selves, falling into bed—one fact remained steady.

Cash loved Lucy.

Was he going to throw the first real relationship he’d ever had away because Lucy had got spooked and deliberately pushed him away?

Last night, he’d been angry. She’d hurt him.

But in the cold light of day, with visual evidence of their developing relationship laid out in print, Cash knew he couldn’t walk away.

Not without a damn good fight.

He held out his hand. ‘Thanks, Bart.’

‘No worries, mate.’ Bart pumped his hand. ‘Just one last thing.’

‘What?’

‘Convince Lucy to let me be your best man, ’cause I don’t think she likes me very much.’

Cash laughed. ‘If she takes me back, you’re on.’

* * *

Gram arrived at nine the morning after the ball, took one look at Lucy’s face and bustled into the kitchen.

She didn’t offer any words of advice or any platitudes, heading straight for the coffee plunger and the pantry instead.

Lucy had been through this before and was eternally grateful Gram would stay in the background, bake up a storm and be here when she was ready to talk.

Which wasn’t now.

Six hours later, Lucy had aerated her front and back lawns, had re-mulched the veggie patch, replanted three borders, trimmed hedges and tidied the compost heap.

When she finally stopped and sank onto the front step, Gram bustled out, freshly squeezed lemonade in one hand, a plate of double-choc-chip cookies in the other.

‘Thanks.’ Lucy sculled two glasses of lemonade and scoffed five cookies before some of her energy returned.

‘You’re welcome.’ Gram sat next to her and nibbled on a cookie.

Lucy had no idea how long they sat there like that, but as she hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on top she was eternally grateful for Gram’s silent support.

Lucy wanted to talk. She wanted to tell Gram all about her horrid night but the hurt was too fresh, too raw. And without any sleep, followed by a day of relentless physical labour, Lucy knew she’d bawl if she started talking about Cash now.

‘I’ll be heading off soon, love, but I’ve left a fruitcake and banana bread cooling on the stove, and there are lamingtons and brownies stored in the pantry.’

For the first time all day, Lucy felt like smiling. Sounded like Gram had worked off her concern by baking.

‘Thanks, Gram, you’re the best.’ Lucy laid her head on Gram’s shoulder and fought the urge to cry again when Gram slipped an arm around her waist.

‘Whatever you need, whenever you need it, I’m here for you.’ Gram kissed the top of her head.

Lucy closed her eyes, catapulted back in time to the two of them doing this very thing: Pops making himself scarce when Lucy had turned up at their house in tears, proclaiming her marriage was over.

Gram had sat her down, wrapped her arms around her, and just let her be.

Lucy had shut down for a week back then, not coming out of her old room, barely touching food. Until she’d told her grandparents everything and had set about rebuilding a new life.

The events of the last week weren’t so life changing but Cash had hurt her just the same. She’d opened her heart to him and he’d broken it without a backward glance.

Not by anything he did, but by what he didn’t do. Somehow, that made it all the harder to accept.

Lucy heard a car pull up and an engine idling, followed by a door slam.

She opened her eyes to see Cash striding up her path, determination lengthening his strides.

Gram eased away, stood and patted her shoulder. ‘I’ll be inside if you need me.’

Lucy wanted to say ‘stay’ but she couldn’t unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

When she’d envisaged her next meeting with Cash, it was to be on her terms: at his house, with her brusque and businesslike commencing work on his garden. She hadn’t imagined he’d be looking incredibly poised in a signature pinstriped suit with a sky-blue shirt that accentuated his eyes, and her in grungy khaki shorts, tank top and steel-capped work boots.

Swiping her hands on the side of her shorts, she stood, every muscle protesting after being pushed too hard. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Picking you up for our dream date.’ He stopped at the bottom step and looked up at her. ‘And I’m not taking no for an answer.’

She barked out a laugh. ‘You’re crazy. Look at me.’ She pointed at her grimy clothes. ‘Even if I wanted to go with you, which I don’t, do I look like I’m dressed for a fancy date?’

He looked her straight in the eye and said, ‘I like you just the way you are.’

Of all the possible things he could’ve said, of all the apologies, it was the one that held the most weight with her.

She felt she didn’t belong in his world. Yet he wanted to take her out looking like this?

‘The limo driver won’t be impressed.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Since when do you care what other people think?’

‘You do,’ she said, the accusation slipping out before she could censor it.

Weariness accentuated the lines at the corners of his mouth as his shoulders slumped slightly. ‘Yeah, but after listening to a wise woman last night I’m starting to re-evaluate my priorities.’

Wow, another admission that went a long way to swaying Lucy.

She hovered on the top step, torn between wanting to take one last chance on hearing what Cash had to say and staying safe, protecting her heart.

The screen door creaked open and Gram stepped up behind her. Gram leaned closer to whisper in her ear, ‘Go. Don’t let the demons of the past stop you from taking a risk on a wonderful future.’

It was the final push Lucy needed and she spun around, giving Gram an impulsive hug, before turning back to Cash and nodding.

‘Okay. Let’s go.’

Cash beamed. ‘Thanks. You must be Lucy’s infamous Gram? Pleased to meet you.’ He shook Gram’s hand as Gram practically simpered.

‘And you must be the dashing young charmer who has swept my granddaughter off her feet.’

‘Guilty as charged, though you flatter me,’ he said, laughing. ‘I’ll make sure she gets home safe and sound before curfew.’

Lucy rolled her eyes at his tongue-in-cheek declaration.

‘Why not stay out all night?’ Gram said, with a wink, and Lucy blushed.

Cash held out his hand to her and after the slightest hesitation she took it, the familiar tingle whenever he touched her making her want to fling herself into his arms and never let go.

He raised it to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. ‘Promise you’ll never leave me standing alone again.’

Lucy almost melted all over the garden path. ‘Sorry, I don’t make promises I can’t keep.’

‘Well then, guess that gives me something to work on during this date.’ He waved the driver back into the limo and opened the back door for her. ‘Because, Luce? I intend to make this a date you’ll never forget.’

Lucy slid into the back of the limo, her goal to emotionally extricate herself from Cash under threat by his ability to say the right thing.

It was part of his practised charm; she understood that. What she didn’t understand was her irrational urge to give in to him again, despite hardening her heart after their fall-out last night.

‘You know I’m not feeling the love after last night, right?’

‘Yeah, I kinda got that impression when you ditched me at the ball.’ He slid in behind her, closed the door, angled his body towards her and draped his arm across the headrest, appearing way too relaxed while she churned inside. ‘And I’m glad you deigned to go on this date with me, considering you think I’m shallow and narcissistic.’

‘Ouch.’ She winced. ‘I was kinda mad. But you’re no saint. You accused me of leading a life of nothing.’

He puffed out a breath. ‘I think we both said things we didn’t mean.’

He held up his hands, palm up, no tricks up those sleeves. ‘How about we clear the air so we can enjoy this date?’

Lucy wanted to agree. She wanted to wipe the slate clean and pretend last night hadn’t happened. She wanted to allow this incredible guy to charm his way into her good graces again.

But her hard-learned self-preservation over the years had kicked in in a big way when Cash had virtually ignored her last night.

She wouldn’t play this game with him. Not now, not ever.

‘Were you jealous?’

She shot him a death glare. ‘Of?’

Suitably sheepish, he shrugged. ‘When you arrived and saw me talking to Ivenka, you looked seriously pissed.’

‘Talking? Is that what you call it when a woman’s draped all over you?’ Lucy hadn’t meant to sound shrewish but that was exactly how her judgemental observation came out.

Like any guy with half an ego, Cash grinned, and she wanted to whack him. ‘Ivenka is a client, that’s it.’ He paused, adding almost as an afterthought, ‘The women I socialise with are used to...ah, how shall I put this? Using their feminine wiles to get whatever they want.’

‘Meaning they sleep their way to obtaining their goal, whatever that may be,’ Lucy said drily, feeling like yesterday’s rubbish in her grubby clothes when remembering Ivenka’s designer dress.

‘Basically? Yeah. Doesn’t mean I’ll ever fall for it.’

She cocked her head to one side, assessing his sincerity. ‘So you’re telling me you’ve never been involved with one of those stunning stars you advise?’

He had the grace to blush. ‘I’m not a saint, Luce. I’ve never had a committed relationship and if a beautiful woman wants to extend the evening past dinner, I haven’t always declined.’

Lucy fixed on the one thing he’d said that should send her running for the hills. ‘Never had a committed relationship?’

He nodded. ‘Let’s just say my faith in the fairer sex isn’t the best.’

Curious in spite of herself, she said, ‘Why?’

‘Probably all very Freudian. You know about my mum.’

‘Yeah, but not every woman is like your mother.’