Marriage Make-Over. Ally Blake
it was enough to put extra vigour into her kick. She spun on her left heel and her right foot caught the huge bag precisely in the centre, sending a satisfying zing up her leg.
The capability to kick the sense out of a perfectly docile leather bag had been her saviour and a much more affordable option than the therapy her mother had offered to pay for. Twice a week for five years had kept her fit and kept her mind clear. You couldn’t mope and achieve the addictive endorphin rush at the same time, so she’d had to give up one for the other.
Kelly jogged on the spot, working up a sweat and a new appetite to take on Simon’s assertions head-on. The more ammunition she had, the better her column would be. She had found at least one wonderful woman to feature this week, and she knew that Simon’s insensitivity to the delicate nature of a woman’s heart would be obvious in comparison.
Kelly slowed to a light bounce. Class was over. But a few last-minute punches to a point on the bag about six feet off the ground did not go astray.
Kelly hopped off the tram and walked the block to the melon-coloured two-storey stuccoed building that held the offices of Fresh magazine. It was her first full day as a real staff writer at Fresh.
The world was a good place. One or two minor irritations could be brushed over as long as she had the job of her dreams, a forum from which she could spread the word. Be fearless. Be resolute. Be heard. And whatever else, be who you have to be.
She pushed open the glass doors that led to the front reception and all but gasped as she saw Simon leaning on the reception desk.
It was bad enough having to face him in his apartment when she’d had time to prepare herself, but him showing up in her place of work shocked the hell out of her. Besides, he was dressed down in a form-fitting white T-shirt, jeans and cowboy boots, and he looked unbelievable. It was too much to cope with all at once.
Upon Kelly’s arrival, Judy, the receptionist, stopped batting her eyelashes at Simon at once, leapt from her swivel chair and disappeared into the office behind her.
‘What are you doing here?’ Kelly snapped, her eyes darting about the open space to see if anyone was within hearing distance. ‘Apart from flirting with my coworkers, that is?’
Simon’s eyes narrowed and Kelly wished she had learnt the ability to keep her trap shut. She was learning that telling it as it was in print was one thing, but thinking before speaking could not be overrated.
‘We had not finished our conversation when you ran off yesterday,’ Simon said.
‘I did not run off. I left. Something you should recognise since you are such an expert at it.’
He didn’t even blanch. Pity. Standing there before her all manly and gorgeous, with all that healthy glowing tan, was entirely too disconcerting.
‘Besides, I had said all I wished to say to you.’ Kelly tilted her nose in the air and walked past Simon on stiff legs. ‘Now please leave. Anything else you have to say can be said through a lawyer.’
Simon shot out a hand and took Kelly by the arm. His hand was warm beneath the steely strength, and it felt so deliciously familiar. Familiar. She looked down at his hand. It was large and square, with clean clipped fingernails. But it was not soft like that of a man who worked in an office all day. It was lightly roughened from outdoor work as it always had been. So, beneath the city-worker exterior there were hints of the Simon who had lived his life in the sunshine, who did not stop working on his beloved boats until the weak moonlight made it impossible.
‘You really have changed,’ he said, all but mirroring Kelly’s thoughts.
She shot him her steeliest glare. ‘You said that already.’
‘It’s just that it hits me anew each time I see you.’
His coarse grip softened but did not let go. He ran his unfathomable hazel eyes over her, taking in every inch of her that was so different. And she was glad she had made a concerted effort that morning.
Her hair was ironed straight and hanging sleekly past her shoulder blades. But as his gaze raked over it, long where it had once been pixie-short, she could almost feel his craving to reach out and stroke its silky length and she fought the urge to rake it back into an unexciting ponytail.
Her lashes were lathered in their usual black mascara, her cheeks were dusted in a shimmering pink, and her lips were awash with pale rose gloss. Her tight black top was held together with a small clip at her belly and fanned out again to reach the top of her skirt, showcasing décolletage, what cleavage she could muster, and belly, which were flushed with bronzing powder. Her skirt, which was black and pencil-thin, stopped just below her knees and she wore pointy black stilettos.
It was the outfit of a magazine chick, a woman with great self-assurance, and no fear. An outfit Kelly had chosen to get her through the most important day of her life so far. An outfit she had not seen as daring when wearing it in offices staffed mainly by women in similar garb, but standing there under Simon’s unashamed scrutiny she felt half naked.
‘I can’t get over how different you look.’
Kelly knew it too. She looked worn-down, thin.
His gaze finally raked back to hers and her breath caught painfully in her throat as she waited for him to say so.
The enchanting creases slowly, slowly, deepened in his smooth cheeks as an intimate smile lit his handsome face and he said, ‘You are beautiful, Kell.’
She blinked to cover her shock. He had never called her beautiful before. Cute. Adorable. Sexy. But never, ever beautiful.
Only then did she realise with utter astonishment that it was not disappointment or guilt resting heavily in his piercing hazel eyes, but desire. And in complete disregard for the consequences she felt herself leaning into his magnetic pull, being drawn deeper and deeper into his beautiful, longing gaze. Her breath released on a deep sigh and its message was loud and clear. The libido that had reawakened only the day before was up and running full steam ahead. She was turned on beyond measure.
‘Kelly?’
She blinked, rocked back onto her stiletto heels, and turned to the dismembered voice. Maya was standing in the open doorway to the offices, with Judy hovering behind her. Maya looked curiously from Kelly to the man seated nonchalantly on the desk at her side with one hand wrapped possessively around her arm.
‘What are you up to all the way out here, my sweet?’
Simon released his grip and stood, and Kelly knew he was moving to introduce himself. And the last thing she needed was to be shown up as a fraud on her first real day at work. Her world clicked back into focus.
‘This is Simon,’ Kelly shouted, drawing all eyes her way. ‘Simon of St Kilda. He is here to be interviewed for my next column.’
Maya’s eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘Well, well, Ms Rockford. You are a revelation. How on earth did you find this fellow and so quickly?’
Yes, how? How? How on earth? Anything but the facts. Her frantic mind tumbled over the possibilities and came up with…nothing.
‘A woman should never reveal her sources, her secrets, nor her deepest desires,’ Simon filled in the deep silence. ‘Wasn’t that a Kellyism from a couple of weeks back?’
Maya nodded, impressed. ‘I see you are a true connoisseur of our Kelly’s column.’
‘I have read it with great personal interest.’
‘Glad to hear it. I will leave you two to it. Bleed him dry, Kelly. I have a feeling about this one.’
Maya winked at Simon and left in a sparkling silver wake and a wash of expensive perfume, with a madly blushing Judy hot on her heels.
Kelly had gathered her wits and purposely funnelled her tension into sharp anger. She pointed to the front door. ‘Now go!’
‘Can’t. I’m being interviewed by a hot new writer.’