Wild Thing
‘You were my best friend! You should’ve trusted me.’ She swallowed down the lump of emotion lodged in her throat, making her voice embarrassingly squeaky. ‘I didn’t owe you any explanations then and I sure as hell don’t owe you any now, but that was the worst night of my life and having you witness my mortification, then berate me for it, sucked big time. Then you turned your back on me...’
Damn, if she didn’t wind this up soon she’d end up crying and that wasn’t the professional impression she wanted to present.
‘Maybe it was for the best, us moving on with our lives separately, leaving the Cross behind, but there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss the friendship we once had.’ There, she’d said it, though she ended on an embarrassing half hiccup that had her wishing the ground would open up.
Hudson didn’t say a word. He just stared at her, sadness down-turning his mouth, before he crossed the short space between them and enveloped her in a hug that squeezed the air from her lungs.
She resisted for a moment, not wanting the physical contact, not wanting anything from him bar this job. But this was Hudson, the guy she’d depended on almost as much as her mum, and if her brain resisted her body had other ideas. His arms were strong around her, crushing her like a steel band, his warmth staving off the chill that had invaded her bones around the time they’d started this conversation.
Breathless, she finally relaxed into him, and as if sensing her capitulation, he hugged her tighter if that were possible. It should’ve ended there. An apologetic embrace between two old friends who’d been torn apart in the past but now had to work together.
Instead, she felt the shift between them, the exact moment the hug became something else. His woodsy aftershave, something expensive, probably designer, made her nose tingle. His warmth turned to heat where it pressed against her. His hand splayed in her lower back, grazed the top of her ass. Something semi-hard nudged her hip.
He pulled away but didn’t release her, as she tilted her head up. ‘I’m not proud of the way I treated you that night and I’ve regretted losing our friendship over it. But I care about you, Mak, I always have, so if you’d let me I’d like to be friends again.’
He sounded sincere and his eyes blazed with untold emotion, but she couldn’t forget how badly he’d once hurt her. If young Hudson had had the power to do that, the older, sexier version would be a lot more dangerous if she let him get close again.
‘We can try,’ she said, sounding flippant, but still caught up in the weird unspoken tension shimmering between them. ‘I’m a professional and I intend on making the most of the opportunity you’ve given me.’
‘I wasn’t talking about work and you know it,’ he said, his low voice rippling over her like a caress, making her all too aware she hadn’t pulled out of his arms yet.
She should. She should establish a clear boundary between them from the outset, but when his burning gaze dropped to her mouth and her nipples hardened in response she knew it would take more than putting space between them to reinforce all they shared was a working relationship.
She’d always been like this around him, hyperaware, like her body was somehow invisibly, intrinsically attuned to his. He hadn’t known back then; she’d been too good at hiding it. It should’ve dissipated over the years, disappeared completely, but the longer he stared at her with blatant hunger, the harder she found it to remember why she had to maintain distance from him.
‘We can try the friendship thing,’ she said, finally willing her legs to move and breaking free of his embrace by backing away a few steps. ‘But I’ll give you a heads-up. I’m not the same naive girl I once was.’
‘And I’m not the same narrow-minded jerk I once was.’ His lopsided grin catapulted her back in time to the many times that same smile had made her young, impressionable heart beat faster. ‘Now we’ve established we’ve both grown up, shall we talk business?’
‘Absolutely.’ Her emphatic nod sent her hair tumbling over her shoulders and she pushed it back, a simple, innocuous action with complicated results when Hudson’s gaze locked on her hair as if he wanted to bury his face in it.
Hell. She could do friendship in a pinch but anything more between them would be disastrous. He might not know it but he’d given her a big break professionally in hiring her for this lead dancer role. She couldn’t screw it up. She wouldn’t. No matter how much intrigue spurred her on to see exactly how hot Hudson was beneath that cool facade.
‘Tell me about the show,’ she said, sounding fake and upbeat and perky, while she couldn’t ignore the way heat flared inside at the way he stared at her like he’d been given the keys to his favourite ice-cream store.
He eyeballed her and in that moment she saw he faced the same inner battle she did. Lust versus logic. Curiosity warring with common sense. Desire battling deprivation.
Crap. She might have just landed a dream job but she had a feeling she’d landed neck-deep in a load of trouble, too.
‘Tell me about you first.’ He gestured at a bar stool, indicating she sit. She didn’t want to. She wanted to stand so she could make a run for it if she needed to.
Because being in Hudson’s arms had resurrected a whole host of feelings she’d long suppressed. She should hate him for how he’d treated her and their friendship. Instead, she’d accepted his apology, even though he hadn’t explained why he’d behaved so appallingly towards her, and agreed to try the friendship thing now.
Was she insane?
‘Not much to tell.’ She perched on the edge of the stool, ready to flee at the slightest sign of awkwardness. ‘I attended uni for a while, doing a bachelor of applied dance in the hope I could teach as well as perform. But I hated the rigidity of classes so lasted less than six months.’
His eyebrows rose, as if he couldn’t believe she’d even consider a career in teaching. ‘I can’t imagine you being an instructor.’
She instantly bristled. ‘Why not?’
‘Because you’ve always had talent and haven’t you heard the old cliché, those who can do, those who can’t teach?’
Assuaged by his compliment, she continued. ‘Guess I’m a cliché then, because once I focussed on dancing, I never looked back.’
‘The agency sent across the CVs of all applicants auditioning.’ He hesitated. ‘You’ve had tons of experience but no starring roles?’
Damn him for homing in on her weakness.
‘What’s with the twenty questions?’ She sounded snappish and didn’t care.
He was her boss, she was his employee, that was where it ended. She didn’t need him treating her like a friend catching up for old times’ sake. It blurred lines and she preferred perfectly delineated boundaries. She couldn’t deal with anything else, not now, when seeing him again had resurrected so many feelings, many of them bad.
‘Because I want to know what makes you tick these days.’ He reached out and touched her above her heart. ‘In here.’
It had been nothing more than a fleeting brush of his fingertips against her skin; a barely there touch that shouldn’t have mattered. But it did, because heat flooded her body, most of it ending up in her cheeks.
‘I said I’d try the friendship thing. Don’t push it,’ she said, easing him away with her index finger.
He laughed, the same rich, deep sound she remembered and damned if she didn’t prickle with awareness. Everywhere.
‘Friends ask about each other’s interests. They chat. They tease—’
‘No teasing.’
It was one of the things she’d loved most about him back then, his ability to make her laugh.
‘You used to love it when I taunted you.’ He leaned forward as if to prove it, invading her personal space, his mouth mere inches from her ear. ‘Just because we haven’t seen each other in years doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten anything.’
Damn.
Did he know how she’d felt back then? Was that why he was torturing her now?
Though it was more than two friends getting reacquainted and she knew it. There was a sexual tension between them, simmering beneath the surface, deliberately ignored but there all the same.
Not good.
‘Then you’ll remember how much I hated you bugging me when I was doing homework and not much has changed.’ She elbowed him away, and he clutched at his side in mock outrage. ‘I’m your employee. I need to focus, not be distracted by...by...you,’ she finished lamely, not wanting to articulate exactly how badly the ever-present attraction between them was making her lose focus and her cool.
‘You find me distracting?’ His low voice made it sound like she’d found him naked.
‘I find you painful.’
Her dry response made him laugh again. ‘Tell me you don’t feel more comfortable now than when you first came in?’
So that was what he’d been doing. Trying to put her at ease. She should’ve been relieved. Instead, a familiar mortification in his presence swamped her; had she imagined the attraction between them?
His boner during their hug could’ve meant nothing, a simple physiological reaction guys got when in close proximity with a woman. And his banter could’ve been exactly as he’d said, a way to put her at ease.
To her chagrin, he squeezed her hand, like a friend would do.
‘Look, Mak, we have to work together. I think it’s great we’ve confronted the past and reached a point where we can talk like this. It’ll make the next few weeks a hell of a lot easier.’
He was right, of course. While they couldn’t resume their old friendship, they had to be civil.
But he hadn’t released her hand, and as she stared at it, his strong tanned fingers wrapped around hers, she couldn’t help but think that for a guy who professed friendship, he’d been teetering on the brink of overstepping the mark.
As if to reinforce it, his thumb brushed across the back of her hand in a slow, languorous sweep that made her tingle and bite back a moan.
Hell.
She could do friendship with Hudson.
Anything else could only end in disaster.
CHAPTER SIX
HUDSON COULDN’T HAVE been more relieved to see the entire dance cast troop into the studio five minutes later, after he’d given Mak a brief rundown of her duties in the show.
The longest frigging five minutes of his life.
He’d always been attracted to her but now...fuck, he got hard again just thinking about that moment when she’d been in his arms, her lithe body pressed against him, her familiar exotic fragrance befuddling his senses.
She’d worn that perfume for as long as he could remember. One of the dancers in the club her mum had worked at had brought it back from Hong Kong for her and damned if he wanted to know how she still managed to get her hands on more.
Had she travelled? Worked overseas? Had a boyfriend obtained more from there? So many questions he had no answers to and it irked that he knew so little about her when he’d once known everything.
Or so he’d thought.
He was glad they’d cleared the air. As much as could be expected, that was. He hadn’t told her why he’d freaked out that night he’d caught her stripping and she hadn’t told him why it had been the most mortifying night of her life.
He’d wanted to ask. Hell, he wanted to know what drove her to it when she’d been ingenuous and sheltered despite growing up in the sin capital of Australia.
But prying wouldn’t have served any good, not when they had to work together. He’d tried to put her at ease, to ask innocuous questions, but she’d been defensive and wary. He didn’t blame her, considering how their friendship had ended. But he wanted some semblance of their old camaraderie now so they could at least work together and not have to deal with old wounds.
He’d invited her over earlier than the other cast members to smooth things over between them. He’d succeeded to a point but having Mak look at him with anything other than loathing only served to remind him how much he wanted her and, unfortunately, his dick had no problem keeping up with the programme.
He’d touched her, several times. More to prove to himself that his reaction to having her in his arms had been an aberration, his body’s way of telling him to get laid sooner rather than later.
It hadn’t been, because even with a simple handhold, he’d felt it, that insistent tug of attraction that grabbed him by the balls and wouldn’t let go.
A major problem, considering Mak was his lead dancer and he was her boss, not to mention they both carried enough baggage to fill an airport carousel.
‘See you at rehearsals Monday, boss.’ The lead male, a short guy named Shane, clapped him on the back with an overfamiliarity that set his teeth on edge.
But Hudson forced a smile and nodded. ‘Have a good weekend.’
The rest of the eight-person crew filtered out. Everyone except Mak, who had vanished. Surely she wouldn’t have snuck out without saying goodbye?
The thought saddened him and just as he’d poured his first bourbon from the makeshift bar in the corner, she slipped back into the room, her eyes widening in surprise as she noted it had emptied.
‘Where is everyone?’
‘Gone home to start their weekends early.’
She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s eight-thirty.’
‘Early by clubbing standards.’
‘I know that.’ She rolled her eyes as she padded towards him, having discarded her stilettos ages ago. ‘I’ll have you know I’m the dance queen of Sydney.’
He liked her haughty playfulness, remembered her often throwing out challenges to best him. ‘There’s a difference between dancing for a living and burning up the floor for fun.’
‘I’m the best at both.’ Her chin tilted as she stared him down. ‘Single in Sydney means let the good times roll.’
Grinning, he said, ‘We’re still talking about dancing, yeah?’
She snickered, a cute sound that catapulted him back in time. ‘You’re such a guy.’
‘Glad you noticed.’ He flexed his biceps, garnering a dry chuckle. ‘Because I’m single in Sydney and I can guarantee that whenever I get anywhere near a dance floor my right foot morphs into my left, so I have two of them.’
She muttered something that sounded like ‘bullshit’ under her breath, before flashing him a teasing smile he hadn’t seen in forever. ‘As I recall, whenever you were working the Kings Cross clubs you’d manage to squeeze in a boogie and trust me, your moves were far from a guy with two left feet.’
‘You kept an eye on me? I’m touched.’ He clutched his chest, thrilled that they’d reverted to swapping banter as they used to. It was what he’d been aiming for earlier but she hadn’t responded, too guarded as she’d tried to get a read on him.
Now that she’d loosened up, he hoped they could continue in the same vein. It had been so natural back then, teasing each other like this, sharing laughs. He’d missed this light-hearted fun the most.
‘You know all the girls had a crush on you back then.’
‘Even you?’ He leaned on the bar, trying to appear casual when he wanted her answer to be affirmative too much.
‘I had more sense,’ she said with a nonchalant shrug, but not before he glimpsed the cheeky spark in her eyes.
Yeah, the old Mak was back and he couldn’t be happier. ‘Would you like a drink?’
She hesitated, her gaze drifting to the door a second before she surprised him and nodded. ‘Vodka and lemon, please.’
‘Coming right up.’ He didn’t need to measure out the quantities. He’d helped out behind bars since he could practically walk and he found the familiar action soothing. Or maybe that had more to do with Mak watching his every move.
He should’ve found her scrutiny off-putting. He didn’t. Instead, her presence had a calming effect, the way it always had.
Back then she’d steadied him in a topsy-turvy world he’d rallied against with every fibre of his being. He’d done whatever it took to survive, saving every cent he’d earned from odd jobs to formulate a plan to escape the life that had threatened to drag him down.
These days, he spent way too much money on caring for the man who’d done his best to make his life hell, but the way he saw it, paying for his father’s care facility kept the old bastard away from him. When he saw him, it was on his terms. Just the way he liked it.
‘What’s wrong?’ She perched on a bar stool and rested her chin in her hands, studying him. ‘You look sad. Are my lame jokes at your expense that bad?’
He shook his head, impressed she could still read him so well. ‘Just thinking about Dad.’
Wariness clouded her eyes. Like most people who lived at the Cross back then, she’d known Wiley Watt was a deadhead drunk and a mean prick. ‘How is he?’
‘Dementia claimed him a few years ago. Drifts in and out. He’s in a private facility.’
Before she could say anything else he changed the subject, not wanting to taint their reawakening friendship by discussing the one subject he’d rather avoid at all costs. ‘I saw Bluey today.’
Her eyes lit up and for a ridiculous second jealousy stabbed him as he wished she’d look at him like that. ‘Haven’t seen him in years. How is he?’
Damn, when he’d wanted to change the subject, he’d grabbed at the first thought that popped into his head. Not the smartest move, considering that brightness in her eyes would fade the moment he divulged the truth.
‘He has lung cancer. Terminal. Few months tops.’ He slid her drink towards her, and when she slumped he felt like he’d revealed there was no Santa. ‘But he’s happy. Brash as ever. Wanted me to hear it from him and not get a call for his funeral.’
‘That’s Bluey,’ she said, blinking rapidly, as he quelled his first instinct to bundle her in his arms. ‘He was so cute, the way he mooned over Mum.’
‘Did she know?’
‘Of course.’ A soft smile of remembrance played about her mouth. ‘But Mum was too smart to mix business with pleasure.’
She eyeballed him as she said it, a clear warning he should heed. But damned if keeping his hands off her wouldn’t be the hardest thing he’d done in a long time.
‘Smart woman, your mum,’ he said, taking a slug of his bourbon. ‘You must miss her.’
‘Every single day.’ She downed two thirds of her vodka in one gulp. ‘That’s what I hated most after you weren’t around any more because I’d just lost Mum. And not having my best friend there to bounce ideas and feelings off, the kind of friend who moved in the same circles, the friend who knew me almost better than I knew myself...’
She trailed off and for a horrifying moment he thought she might burst into tears.
Before he could say anything remotely comforting, she tossed back another gulp of vodka. ‘Don’t mind me. It’s the alcohol loosening my tongue and making me maudlin.’
‘I missed us too,’ he blurted, wishing he hadn’t said anything when she stared at him in hope as she used to.
Back then he’d known he couldn’t be Mak’s hero, no matter how much he wanted to. He wasn’t built that way. He’d learned from a young age to take care of number one and that was him.
He hadn’t fostered anything beyond friendship between them because of it, even after Mak had turned eighteen. It would’ve been so easy to slip into a relationship with her, especially considering how much he’d wanted her.
But he’d known he wasn’t the kind of guy Mak deserved, not the kind of guy she wanted. Not really. Mak craved stability and he could never give that to her. Not after what he’d been through. Pushing her away that night he’d seen her strip had almost been a relief in some ways.
Now she was back. Tugging at his heartstrings all over again. Making him want to slay a goddamn arena full of dragons in order to protect her from bad stuff.
Not good.
He was a different man now. He’d moved on from that guy who’d felt unworthy. But he still couldn’t be her guy. He had too many demons, most of them linked to that night he’d seen her strip, a night he might never get past no matter how close they became.
‘Here’s to us,’ she said, raising her almost empty glass. ‘To friendship.’
Friendship he could do. Contemplating anything else would be beyond madness.
‘To friendship.’ He clinked his glass against hers but when he took a slug of bourbon it burned all the way down his throat, testament to the lie he’d just uttered.
He didn’t just want friendship with Mak. He wanted her. He always had.
In his arms. In his bed. Wrapped around him.
It was going to be one hell of a tough time ahead.
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