Someone Like You (26 page)

Lizzie found a half empty bottle on the kitchen bench and poured white wine into two clean glasses. With one hand, she held the stem of her wine glass. With the other, she tapped a finger on the marble bench. Looked to the ceiling. She was buying time and Julia knew it.

‘You don’t want to talk about it, huh?’

‘What’s there to talk about? We finished The Market. He’s been in Adelaide. I’ve been flat-out crazy with the holiday season at the pub. Tonight was the first time I’ve seen him in a couple of weeks. That’s it. End of story.’

Julia lifted a pan out of the water and plonked it on the sink to dry. She grabbed another, submerged it, began scrubbing hard. ‘Lizzie. I don’t know what’s going on with him, why he hasn’t been around, but the way he was looking at you tonight? It was kind of scorching. Couldn’t you feel it?’

Lizzie took a sip of wine, which topped off her wine buzz. Yes, she’d felt every degree of that blazing heat, of his attention. She was fully aware that he’d been watching her. And that kiss? It had buckled her knees. He hadn’t seemed to care that everyone was watching. More importantly, he hadn’t seemed to care about Anna. Was this the new Dan, she wondered? Someone with one foot in his old life and the other in Middle Point? Someone who was hedging his bets about where he might end up?

They both heard the snick of the lock on the front door and then footsteps across the room. Lizzie sighed. She recognised that long-legged stride without even turning to see who it was. A moment later, Dan was next to her. She took a large gulp of wine, tried to place the glass back on its watery ring on the bench top. Missed.

‘Everyone home safely?’ Julia asked.

‘Harri is, and my guess is that Joe didn’t make it past the sofa. He was asleep before I turned the corner into your street, Elizabeth. I had to push his sorry arse through your front door.’ He didn’t bother to hide his derision.

Lizzie squeezed her eyes shut at the sound. ‘He’s missing his wife. She couldn’t come with him.’

‘Drowning your sorrows doesn’t make them go away,’ Dan said.

‘But hiding away in your house does?’ Lizzie took a gulp of her wine, a big one on purpose, just to spite Dan for his attitude towards her brother. It topped up the wooziness she’d felt earlier and rammed straight to her head.

‘So how is the North Shore whore? Spending Christmas at Noosa with her family is she, instead of being here with her husband?’ Julia huffed dramatically. She’d never been overly fond of Jasmine either.

‘Stop it, Jools,’ Lizzie moaned, resting her head on her outstretched arms on the cool marble. Her head was starting to spin a little. Make that a lot.

Dan’s eyebrows quirked. ‘The North Shore whore?’

‘I should never have called her that. It was so bitchy. She can’t be all that bad if she’s put up with Stinkface all these years.’

‘And Stinkface is…’ Dan looked to Julia, confused

‘Joe. Once Lizzie gives you a nickname, you can be sure of two things. One, it’ll stay with you forever and two, it means that she really, deep down loves you with all her heart.’

Then Lizzie started to giggle, the sound muffled in her arms. She turned her face to look at Dan through bleary eyes. ‘So watch out, Big Guy, my nicknames stick.’

Dan stiffened, then looked to Julia. ‘I think she needs to go home.’

Julia nodded. ‘You could be right.’

Dan moved in closer and Lizzie felt his hand, strong and warm, on her elbow, urging her to stand up. Which suddenly became much harder than she thought.

‘C’mon Lizzie. Hop up. I’ll walk you home.’

The wine buzz had scrambled the signals between her mouth and her brain. When she meant to say no, the word ‘yes’ tumbled over her tongue before she could bite it.

Dan and Lizzie made it as far as his front yard before she threw up all over her shoes.

She’d felt fair to middling as they’d left Ry and Julia’s house, feeling the comfort of Dan’s strong arm about her waist to steady her. But as soon as they were on the street, the cool sea breeze hit her and a wave of nausea almost knocked her off her feet. She’d only been able to make a few staggering steps to Dan’s yard before she’d succumbed and completely missed the daisies.

Lizzie planted her hands on her knees, gripping on tight, and tried to steady herself with deep lungfuls of air. A hammer was pounding in her head and there was a buzz in her ears that sounded like the whoosh of the ocean, but she knew it couldn’t be. She wanted to curl up on the grass and die. From humiliation.

Then Dan was by her side. She’d hoped he’d run away to leave her to her own mortification and despair. But no.

‘Here.’ He held a damp washcloth in front of her. Lizzie tried to focus and took it. She slowly wiped her mouth, gulped again to fight off another bout of vomiting.

‘Oh God, I’m—’ She plastered a hand to her mouth.

‘Can you stand up?’ Dan gently urged her upright. ‘C’mon.’

Lizzie nodded vaguely and took a few hesitant steps, with Dan adjusting his stride to match hers. He led her inside the house, patiently across the living room, where her eyes hurt from the light. She’d kicked off her splattered shoes at the front door and her bare feet felt heavy and too noisy on the floor. Dan paused while she stopped and fought another wave of nausea, and took her down the small hallway to the bathroom.

He pushed open the door, urged her inside onto a soft bath mat and then reached in to turn on the shower. Even the sound of the water pulsing on the tiles was too loud. There was a groan and Lizzie realised it was coming from her.

Wordlessly, Dan reached around her, tugging at the zip at the back of her dress. When it fell to her feet in a rustle of red and vomit splatters, Lizzie covered her face with her hands at the indignity of it all. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to see the look of disgust on his face that she was certain would be furrowing his brow. Or maybe closing her eyes simply stopped the room from spinning.

Lizzie took in more deep lungfuls of air.

Dan watched her with a grin.

He usually liked being in this position, he realised. Stripping a beautiful woman naked, that is. It was the drunk part that made things complicated. And clear-cut.

With a quick flick of his hand, he loosened Lizzie’s bra and it fell to the floor. And while it was probably wrong to stare at the luscious breasts of a woman who was drunk, he figured that since he’d admired them once of twice before, it wasn’t doing anyone any harm. With an automatic leg lift, and a hand firmly pressed up against the shower screen for balance, Lizzie stepped out of her knickers. Her lingerie was red, lacy and barely there.
Holy hell
.

Dan guided Lizzie under the spray and closed the shower screen. He knew he couldn’t leave her in there alone, so he leaned back against the cold, tiled wall and watched. It was only for her safety, he told himself. What if she fell asleep? Slipped on the soap? Knocked her head? Drowned? He heard more moans as the hot water sluiced over her breasts, her back and the curve of her arse, down her calves and onto her red toenails.

When Lizzie turned off the taps and tentatively opened the shower door, Dan was there with a huge soft towel and he wrapped her in it. For a moment, his arms remained wrapped around her too, and when he felt her go limp, he tightened his grip, pulling her closer. Lizzie let out a jittery sigh and her head dropped against his chest.

‘Ooh,’ she moaned softly.

Her wet hair and face were soaking him through his shirt but he didn’t care. Something lurched inside him. Standing there, with Lizzie in his arms, he felt like he’d found something resembling home. And that thought spooked the hell out of him.

With a corner of the towel he gently dried her hair, rubbing it into crazy spikes on her head. Then, knowing she would need it, he reached to the basin and handed her his toothbrush, already loaded with toothpaste.

Her big, washed out blue eyes flickered and met his. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered with a wan smile. The world around him seemed to disappear. That was the moment, he would realise later, when everything really changed.

‘Thought a shower might help.’

She nodded. ‘It did. I’m so sorry. I must have had more to drink that I thought. Pretty unattractive, huh.’

He smiled, stroked her cheek, swallowed the feeling in his throat. ‘Yeah, worst thing I’ve ever seen.’

Lizzie’s hand flew to her belly. Her face went pale. ‘Oh God. I need to lie down.’

Dan didn’t hesitate. He took her hand and led her to his bedroom, mindful not to turn on the lights. The room was barely lit by the moonlight through the blinds, and he tugged back the sheets. Beside him, Lizzie let the damp towel drop to the floor and when she found the cool of the bed, slowly lowered herself backwards until her head was on his pillow. She turned away from him and curled herself up in a tight ball. Dan lifted the blankets over her and sat down on the edge of the bed. Her eyelids had already fluttered shut and her breathing was sleep heavy.

Dan couldn’t see his watch in the darkness but he figured it was about one in the morning. He felt too wired to shut his eyes and sleep. Too much had happened. His mind was reeling. Sleep. The way he was feeling, he’d probably sit up all night watching infomercials and still not drift off. Hell, he’d probably wake up the next day having mysteriously ordered a steam mop or one of those craptaculous exercise machines from the all-night ads without even remembering that he’d done it.

How the hell could he sleep, knowing that Lizzie was naked in his bed? Staying away from her hadn’t worked. He simply wanted her more.

Because she was asleep and it was safe to touch her, he moved to the other side of the bed, reached over to stroke her face, the soft coolness tickling his fingers. And because she was asleep and it was safe to, he shifted his weight, leaned in to kiss her goodnight. Because no one should end Christmas Day without a kiss, he decided.

Her soft lips, moist and slightly open, were all his. He kissed her, tenderly, lingering as long as he thought he could without waking her. She tasted like his toothpaste. When he lifted his lips from hers, she stirred.

‘Dan,’ she murmured.

‘I’m right here,’ he whispered.

Lizzie reached out to grip his arm, her fingers like silk on his skin. It was enough to send sparks flying. ‘Come to bed.’

He took a deep breath, steadied himself. ‘Sshhh, Elizabeth. Close your eyes and go to sleep.’

‘Can’t.’

‘Yes, you can,’ he said, slowly reaching over to stroke her hair, still damp, like cool water running through his fingers.

You’re going to feel like hell in the morning
, he thought.
And you’re not the only one
.

She sighed, turned, her eyes flitted open to find him in the dark. ‘Can’t kick you out of your bed. Not fair.’

For a long moment, he hesitated. Then decided there was no point arguing with someone who was drunk. He slowly took off his jeans.

Lizzie’s eyes flickered open to the sounds of morning at Middle Point. Traffic. People. Seagulls. The waves. Snatches of the night before came back to her like a crazy slideshow. A bottle of French champagne. Christmas presents. A smouldering kiss from Dan at dinner.
Come to bed
.

Oh, God.

Heaving in the front yard. Her shoes. Where were her shoes? This was like a bad movie, one of those from her childhood that was repeated endlessly in the summer non-ratings period.
Her
bad movie. The one in which the heroine does something stupid over and over again and never learns. The one in which the ending never changes. Lizzie groaned, tried to judge if her head would explode if she lifted it off the pillow. An attempt confirmed that it was still intact. She propped herself up on her elbows and when the sheet slipped down her body, she swore.

She was buck-naked.

In Dan’s bed.

With a huff she thought back to the old Dan. The old Dan would be no stranger to having a carousel of women in his bed. Her. Anna. Her again. She looked around on the floor for her red dress and couldn’t see it. Then she remembered what she’d done to it. The groan came from down deep. She’d probably never want to wear it again, anyway.

With a towel wrapped round her, pulled so tight it flattened her breasts, and safely pinned in her armpits by elbows pulled close to her sides, she gingerly walked to the kitchen. The closer she got, the stronger the smell of something damn good assaulted her nostrils. And when she reached the doorway, the sight of something close to perfect assaulted every one of her senses.

Dan’s dark hair was ruffled and sticking up at strange angles and his jaw wore a shadow of growth. A white T-shirt and brightly coloured boardshorts, the summer uniform of the beach, hung loosely on his frame, and he had a chequered tea towel slung over one shoulder. He seemed to be humming to himself as he turned something in a pan on the stove. Bacon. Lizzie closed her eyes in blessed relief. And then she smelled something suspiciously like coffee. Real coffee.

When she opened her eyes again, Dan was looking at her with a smile so warm she forgot to breathe. He put down his cooking utensil and went to her, his hands reaching for her arms, rubbing them gently from elbow to shoulder. He widened his stance and dipped his head so he could look at her more closely.

‘How you feeling?’ There was no smirk hidden in the remark, nothing but kindness and concern.

‘Like shit, actually.’ Lizzie managed a grin and Dan responded with an affectionate laugh.

‘I happen to have the perfect antidote to that. Go sit down.’ Dan nodded his head in the direction of the table and Lizzie obeyed. In a flash, Dan had presented her with a cup of coffee, strong, black and steaming hot. She wrapped her fingers around it.

‘Since when does a small town boy drink real coffee?’ Lizzie regarded him with a raised eyebrow and a tease of a smile.

He reciprocated both. ‘Since he began hoping a small town girl might drop by again.’

Lizzie’s heart beat a little faster. She didn’t want to look up at him to see what his eyes were saying to her, finding his words too much to take in. Before she could think about what he’d said, a plate of crispy bacon, scrambled eggs and toast appeared before her. It looked greasy and disgusting and was absolutely the best breakfast she’d ever had.