The Dare Collection November 2019. Anne Marsh
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‘Look, you work hard, and you said you can play hard, too. Isn’t that why I’m here? Why you invited me along? So we could have a good time along the way? Will one afternoon off really make that much difference? I find it hard to believe your empire will crumble that easily—you’re too good to allow that to happen.’ His argument is a recurring one and he doesn’t really need to coax me. He’s right. This is what I wanted when I propositioned him. A distraction, a way to unleash my playful side. To find some balance. I’m worrying needlessly.
‘We’ll just stay an hour, and then I’ll take you back to the hotel and run you a bath before the opera. What do you say? Will you come meet some Swiss dogs?’
My mouth twists as I attempt to hide my smile, my lips drawn back to his for another kiss I can’t deny myself. He’s so open, so generous, not just with money, but also with his time, his enthusiasm and the easy way he sucks every scrap of enjoyment from any activity, simple or grandiose. How can I refuse him?
‘Okay.’
He blasts me with his dazzling smile, and we follow a patient Klaus to the kennels. The inhabitants of the shelter are so excited to see us, I’m immediately overcome with feel-good emotions, all thoughts of work forgotten.
We’re taken to a large garden behind the shelter where we can throw balls for the dogs, who without exception seem to want nothing more than to be close to us. I know how they feel; I’m developing quite an attachment to Cam myself. I watch him use his superior athleticism and strength to toss the ball to the far corners of the garden, his T-shirt riding up as he throws to reveal a tantalising strip of skin that snares my attention.
There’s a beagle cross that seems to feel a particular affinity for me, returning time after time to my side and obediently dropping the ball and sitting, patiently waiting for me to throw it again. I stroke the dog’s silky head, an uninhibited giggle bubbling up. Funny how you don’t realise the toll something takes until you’re forced to stop and pay attention. Perhaps I am stressed. Perhaps the burn-out feeling I had in Monaco wasn’t temporary. Perhaps that’s why the triumph over my father doesn’t taste quite as sweet as I’d expected.
I glance over at Cam, who is with Klaus examining some partially constructed storage sheds along the far wall. He gestures to the other man, pointing at the roofline and indicating for a hammer left on the ground by the builders.
Before I know what’s happening, he’s knocked out some sort of upright and is repositioning the wood with the absolute authority of a man who knows what he’s talking about. I take a seat at a rickety table and chairs and relax back to watch the Cam show. He wields the tools with proficiency, but what did I expect? He tackles everything that way. Confident, taking control, but with enough humility he’s in no way arrogant. I watch the way his back, shoulder and arm muscles move and bulge while he works, my eyes glued to his spectacular physique.
In some ways he’s a conundrum, in others an uncomplicated man—no agenda, what you see is what you get.
What am I doing with him and why do I feel as if I’m in over my head when this was my idea?
My phone pings for the umpteenth time and I pull it from my pocket with a sigh of regret that I have to look away from Cam’s sexy show-and-tell.
It’s from my number two back in Sydney. I quickly scan the message, my equilibrium returning at the good news. The lawyers have finished with the paperwork, and the Jensen’s deal snatched from under the nose of my father has hit the international financial headlines, the ripple effect so predictable, I can almost see the zeroes at the end of my net worth multiplying. The kick of satisfaction I always feel at a job well done is there, but today it’s muted, its potency somehow diminished, as if making money, being the best, proving I, a mere woman, can do anything my brother and father can, no longer holds the same all-consuming appeal.
Perhaps the news would taste sweeter if shared. Perhaps the shine of my success would return if I had some of Cam’s balance. Perhaps he’s right about me, after all—I don’t know how to have fun…
My head jerks up from the screen of my phone in search of him, my good-luck charm. He’s striding my way with a Jack Russell in tow. The dog has abandoned the ball and seems content to simply follow him to the ends of the earth.
I swallow hard. I know that feeling. It’s the same feeling—dangerous and terrifying—that I get when I open my eyes and find him asleep next to me in the morning.
Cam sits opposite me at the rough wooden table and the dog settles at his feet. ‘I’m sorry I’m neglecting you. I got carried away. Some cowboy builder has left the sheds half built and they’re not sure if he’s going to come back to finish them.’ He spots my phone. ‘Is it work? Do you need me to take you back into the city?’
I shove my phone away and try not to focus on the attention Cam lavishes on the delighted Jack Russell’s ear rub.
Nice one, Orla. Jealous of a dog.
‘No, I’m sorry—breaking news in the financial world—money never sleeps.’ My attempt at humour, designed to cover my embarrassment that I can’t even enjoy half an hour off to be in the moment, falls flat and a chasm opens up between us across the scarred and weathered tabletop.
His quiet scrutiny makes me wince, not that he’s judging, but I see acute awareness in his intelligent eyes. He sees me all too thoroughly. And even before he asks, I know his question is coming.
‘Can I ask you a personal question? I know we’ve avoided too many details up to now, but I’m…curious.’
As if sensing the tension radiating from us, my own new doggy friend curls up against my foot and promptly closes her eyes, as if all she’s needed this whole time was a warm leg to lean up against while she sleeps.
‘Sure, although I reserve the right to not answer.’ I keep my voice light-hearted, although my tummy is tight with nerves for what he might ask and, worse, for what I might expose.
One of his big hands stretches across the table and covers my hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth over my knuckles, and I want to curl into him and admit that, just like these dogs, I’m a little lost and in need of a new direction.
But he’s not my rock. I don’t need a rock. He’s not even my boyfriend. I’m just using him for sex.
I shudder inside—I can almost see the grins on the faces of my married girlfriends, hear the cackles of excitement over cocktails and the names they would bandy about if they could see me now—toy boy, man toy, cougar. A protective streak slices through me, even as the words it’s not like that ring hollow in my head. Because it is like that—that’s what I wanted. Sex on tap. No feelings. No personal details. No consequences.
Was I naive, or just deluding myself, because sex, even sex as hot and liberating as the sex I share with Cam, is bound to come with consequences? And they’ve already begun. I feel it. He’s changing me. Just by knowing him I’m different, more open to new experiences, wanting to challenge myself and emulate the person I’m beginning to admire.
‘I just wondered why.’ Cam’s voice is low, gentle, as if he doesn’t want to spook the slumbering dogs. Or perhaps he’s worried about spooking me.
‘Why what?’
‘Why you work so hard. Why you put in the hours you do. The travel, the lack of sleep. I…’ He looks down at the table as if embarrassed. ‘I looked you up on the internet. I wanted to know more about you without prying into personal stuff.’
‘And what did you discover?’ I’ve been tempted to do the same myself and research him, only every time I open my laptop, work snatches my attention.
‘That you’re worth a fortune. That you probably don’t need to work ever again,’ he says.
‘Just like you, then.’ I wince, scrunch my eyes closed for a second to block out the wounded look on his face, because I already know that was a low blow. He told me it was complicated. He told me his inheritance came with conditions