Our Kind of Love (14 page)

When was the last time she’d felt loved? That question stopped Anna in her tracks. When was the last time someone had looked at her like he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, touched her and held her like he never wanted to let go?

These were painful questions but the answer was even harder to think about.

It had been the night of Ry and Julia’s wedding back in February.

Every detail of that night was imprinted on her like a tattoo.

Anna smoothed her ruby-red dress down her thighs, her fingers skimming against bare skin where the hem stopped just above her knees. It wasn’t going anywhere – it was as tight as a bandage against every curve up to her shoulders. It shone like lipstick against her olive skin and her long black hair, which she’d decided to wear loose for the night of Ry and Julia’s wedding. She’d liked the feel of it against her bare shoulders, silky and heavy, a smooth caress on her skin.

She’d gone all out that night. Her leopard-skin stilettos gave her four extra inches in height and created a sashay in her step. Huge gold hoop earrings hung in the sweep of her hair and an array of bracelets jangled on her right wrist. Her lipstick, chosen carefully to match her dress, was freshly applied and slick. It was the costume of a happy, sexy, together, confident woman – the exact opposite of everything she’d been feeling. If her outfit truly mirrored her mood she would have turned up to the wedding in her pyjamas.

That night she’d desperately needed to feel like a woman. Outwardly she was struggling for hot because inside she felt ice-cold. Lifeless. Her heart was broken, her life a mess, all because she’d placed her love and faith in a husband who’d turned out to be a cheater.

Anna had RSVP’d months before to the wedding invitation, but had almost decided not to show. She’d spent that Saturday morning seeing patients and had driven home just after lunch in a funk, resolving not to make the drive down to the south coast at all. Her dilemma was that she’d accepted the wedding invitation when she was still one half of a married couple. The idea of a weekend away in Middle Point with Alex had seemed like a great idea at the time. They both worked hard and time away from the office and emails and work and clients and patients would be just what they needed.

But her plan to remain up in Adelaide didn’t stick. She knew she had to go. It wasn’t about her, it was about Dan’s best friend Ry and his fiancée Julia and the beginning of their life together.

‘Can I offer you a drink, madam?’ Anna blinked. A waiter was standing in front of her, regarding her with a polite smile. Madam? That hurt. A quick assessment of the young man revealed him to be just legal, probably a local kid who’d recently finished high school. She probably did look like a madam to him. Or a maiden aunt.

‘No, thanks,’ she replied with an equally polite smile. She leaned against the old stone building, the rough-hewn sandstone cool to the touch. The sky above was already dark as pitch, a stage for a million stars to shine and a cool sea breeze fluttered through her hair. It simply felt too hard to find a smile, to fake happiness, so she didn’t try. Taking a glass would only delay her plan to escape, a plan she was going to enact at any second.

Despite her mood, Anna had to admit it was a beautiful night in the beachside town and the Middle Point pub looked magical. Paper lanterns twinkled from within, lit up by tiny globes inside them. Handsome waiters wearing nothing but white singlets and boardshorts with plastic leis about their necks manoeuvred through the crowd with trays of drinks. It all seemed relaxed and natural. Over in one dark corner, she could make out Dan talking with Lizzie and her heart shifted at the sight. Other guests had gathered in groups, some were already dancing, and she realised that apart from the newlyweds and Dan and Lizzie, she didn’t know anyone else. Which would make it so much easier to leave unnoticed. Anna flicked her hair back from her shoulders, tightening her grip on her clutch. Her escape was seconds away.

‘Nice party.’

The voice came out of nowhere and Anna startled. A man had appeared by her side, leaning down and in close to speak in her ear. She could smell soap and salt water.

Anna stiffened at the closeness, uncomfortable with the way he’d invaded her personal space, but she had nowhere to move. She was hemmed in by the stone wall, the half-drunk dancers and a set of shoulders that blocked out the party lights.

‘Yes, it’s a very nice party,’ she replied politely. Her eyes darted to him for half a second. He wasn’t looking at her, but was watching the dancing with great interest.

‘Although,’ he said in her ear, ‘I don’t think those two over there should be dancing in public. They’re a serious occupational health and safety risk on this small dance floor, don’t you think?’

Anna followed his line of sight to a middle-aged couple struggling to appreciate the rhythm of the song. He was right but Anna thought it was a little judgmental to be saying so out loud. They seemed to be having a perfectly lovely time. ‘You a judge on
Dancing with the Stars
or something?’

The man chuckled and she could see his body shift, his shoulders move and relax. ‘No, I’m not.’

Anna watched the couple some more. The dancing man’s comb-over and Dennis Lillee-style moustache were a sign that he’d never gotten over the end of the seventies and, neither had his dancing, which was straight out of
Countdown
. His partner’s halter-neck dress and centre-parted, flicked-back hairstyle suggested she’d been with her man all along the way. They’d probably been dancing together like that since 1978 when they met at their high school disco.
It wasn’t embarrassing. It was wonderful
, Anna thought, with a tug at her heart at the further proof that some relationships lasted. ‘I don’t reckon they care what we think. They seem to be having a whole lot of fun. More than we are.’

Out of the corner of her eye she could see that he’d moved, turned slightly towards her. If she wasn’t mistaken, his eyes were on her too. She could feel it but she didn’t look. She tucked her purse under one arm and crossed them in front of her, shifted her weight from one heel to the other. Ry and Julia emerged from the crowd and walked over to the bar, hand in hand. It gave her something to remark on to fill the awkward silence. ‘Don’t Ry and Julia make a happy couple?’

‘They really do,’ the mystery man replied sincerely. When the music changed from something poppy to a Motown classic, the dance floor became even more crowded. The
Countdown
couple were out of view and he didn’t seem to want to comment any further on the dancing or anything else for that matter. Anna couldn’t think of anything else to add. She made small talk every day in her surgery with her patients but this was strange. She couldn’t seem to do it here.

‘Champagne or wine, madam? Another beer for you, sir?’ The young waiter was back proffering a tray. Anna hesitated. Taking a drink would indicate to the stranger that she might want to actually stand around and have a conversation with him, when all she wanted to do was go home. She glanced at her watch. It was nearly ten o’clock. Surely that was long enough? As she was about to decline, he lifted two glasses of champagne from the waiter’s tray, nodded his thanks, then turned to her.

‘Look, I need your help,’ he said, ‘I’m in trouble.’ His elbow bumped her shoulder.

Anna gave him a real look this time. She may have been married for forever, but she wasn’t dead. This guy was handsome. Tall, tanned, with designer stubble on his chin and dirty blond hair arranged in a messy and lived-in ‘do. He looked for all the world like a male model, what with the top button of his white dinner shirt undone, its sleeves rolled loosely up his muscled forearms. Probably gay.

‘You’re in trouble, huh?’
Maybe one of the waiters was after him
.

‘Here, quickly. Take one of these.’ He glanced around furtively as if he hoped no one had seen him and then offered her one of the champagne glasses, filled almost to the brim with pinkish bubbles.

Anna hesitated. ‘I don’t know if I want another drink.’ Middle Point and alcohol were not a good combination, in her experience, and if she was going to follow her plan and drive home any minute now, she’d better not drink any more.

The man stared straight at her, his dark eyes wide, one eyebrow raised, a sexy grin on his lips. ‘If you don’t, people will think I have a drinking problem.’ Sensing her hesitation, he tried again. ‘C’mon. Good champagne should never go to waste.’

Would one more drink put her over the legal limit? She’d only had one glass of wine over dinner. She considered the offer. Maybe it would do her good, make her feel better, to make small talk and what the hell, maybe even flirt with this guy. And if he was gay? Even better. Every suddenly single woman needed some no-strings-attached, no-risk flirting every now and then. And after one glass, she could get in her car and drive back to Adelaide forever. What harm could it do?

Anna lifted the glass from his fingers and quickly took a sip, the cool bubbles and sweetness tingling her tongue.

His sexy grin spread to his eyes. ‘I don’t know how to thank you. You know how rumours get around in a small town like this.’

‘No, I don’t. I’m a city girl.’

He checked out her red dress and her high heels. ‘I can tell.’ Then he moved in front of her, blocking her view of the dancing. He was quite tall, Anna realised, although everyone was compared with her. As her gaze moved up past his shoulders to his strong jaw and sexy face, she wondered distractedly how on earth he managed to get just one of his eyebrows to lift like that?

‘I’m Joseph,’ he said and held out a strong hand to her.

‘Dr Anna Morelli.’ She shook his hand, in the automatic and professional manner she might use if she were meeting a new patient or a colleague. He wasn’t either of those, and she could feel it immediately in his strong grip, the way he lingered.

‘Nice to meet you. Medicine or philosophy?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Sorry. It’s a habit. Medicine. I’m a GP.’

‘Nice to meet you, Doctor Morelli.’

‘Anna, just Anna.’ She pulled her fingers from his.

‘People call me Joe. So, you’re not from around here?’

Anna took another sip, felt the champagne bubble and fizz in her mouth and, strangely, all over her body. ‘No. Not really much of a beach girl, myself.’

‘No?’ He looked her up and down slowly, taking in her bare arms and shoulders, the low dip of her V-neck. It wasn’t a glance. It was an examination and Anna found it completely unfamiliar and strangely thrilling. Maybe not gay after all.

‘I figured that’s a beach tan you’re sporting, not a fake one.’

Anna shrugged. ‘Fake tans can kill you and so can real ones. I’m Italian. This is natural.’

‘Italian, huh?’

‘
Si
.’

Joe considered what she’d said. ‘I went to Italy once. I was reporting on a prime ministerial trip to the Vatican.’ He looked at her to judge if she’d taken the bait. ‘I’m a journalist.’

‘Really? A journalist? Is there a big story breaking in Middle Point this weekend or are you here to report on the wedding?’

Joe laughed. His voice was deep and kind of sexy. If she’d been a single person, she might have found it beguiling. Might have found his handsomeness a huge turn-on. Might have found those eyes, laughter crinkling their edges, too hard to look away from.

‘You’re funny, Doc. Neither actually. This is strictly personal. I know the bride.’

Anna clinked her glass against his. ‘It’s strictly personal for me, too. I know the groom.’

‘Well, cheers to the happy couple.’ Joe upended his glass.

‘Yes. Congratulations to them.’ Anna didn’t want to say what was on the tip of her tongue and bit her lip to stop it. That this was all pretend and their chances of making it were no better or no worse than anyone else’s, and even then it was a fifty-fifty proposition at best. That all the hope and happiness from this day forward slowly drained away until all you had left was pain and humiliation.

Anna gulped down the rest of her champagne. She suddenly needed the instant buzz to arrest the heart pounding in her chest, the tightness in her throat. Everything about this scenario was pushing in on her. Her own disaster of a marriage. The bride and groom. Other happy couples. This handsome man, Joe, standing next to her, flirting with her. Oh yes, he was flirting. She knew that for sure.

As a waiter cruised past with more drinks, Anna reached out to grab his arm. ‘Hold on, sailor.’ She replaced her empty glass with a full one. Joe did the same. Anna wasn’t sure what was happening, but she felt like a slow-moving train gathering momentum. Everything around her was moving faster and faster, and flashing before her eyes were memories of her life. She wanted to block it all away. Needed to do something so she didn’t have to think about what was ahead for her.

She suddenly wanted to start again from scratch.
Tonight I have no history. Tonight I have no past. I have only this moment
.

A new song throbbed from the sound system and Anna took in a deep and invigorating breath.
Dancing Queen
. Surely that was a sign. One she suddenly needed to grasp with everything she had. She turned to Mr Handsome Joe, flicked her long hair over one shoulder and trained her eyes on him. His dark eyes responded in a way that was extremely satisfying.

‘So, Joe the journo.’ Anna propped her hands on her hips and looked him up and down. ‘Are you as good with your feet as you are with words?’

It took him a long moment to respond, so long that Anna wondered if he was so good with words after all.

‘Huh?’

‘Can you dance?’

‘Dance?’ He looked over at the gyrating crowd.

She lingered over his long legs, his flat stomach, the muscles she guessed would be under that shirt. ‘You’ve got something to prove.’

‘What’s that?’ he asked, gazing into her eyes.

‘That you can dance better than those two.’

He looked to the
Countdown
couple, still gyrating with flailing arms and eyes closed in rapturous rhythm. ‘You’re on.’

Before Anna could take a step, he’d grabbed her hand and had pulled her on to the dance floor.