The Candidate (24 page)

A shiver ran through her. This was something else entirely. Mac wasn’t usually so … unequivocal. But she liked it. A lot. Undoing the clasp, pushing her skirt down, she kicked it off and it slid across the floor. She leant back against the door, not sure what was coming next.

‘Look at you.’ He ran a finger lightly from the base of her throat, between her breasts, down her stomach. Hooking it into the thin elastic of her G-string he pulled her toward him. ‘You’re fucking gorgeous.’ He kissed her, starting slow, and she fell into it. Running her hands up his back, feeling the strength of him, she linked her arms around his neck as he stepped back into her, and his skin against hers made her feel … alive. More alive than she’d ever felt.

With his mouth fixed on hers, Mac took her hands, lifting her arms above her head as his kiss built and deepened. Keeping them there, his other hand ran down behind and over her. Brushing her, tracing her breasts, her hips, waist, across her stomach and the tops of her legs, his touch was delicate and unhurried. A stark contrast to the way he was kissing her, and she felt almost maddened by it, as if she would snap.

He reached her thighs, pushed them apart and, turning his hand over, ran the backs of his fingers along the lace that covered her, barely touching her. He did it again. She groaned, broke away from his mouth, found herself biting into his neck, made to push into him but he took a small step back, and pressed the heel of his palm gently into her, keeping her in place while his fingers slipped inside her G-string and continued to move over her.

That shiver was intensifying, spreading through her, but he was holding her in place, teasing her with it. ‘Mac,’ she gasped, ‘please!’

Wrapping his hand around the small swatch of fabric, he gave one good tug and dropped what was left on the floor. Eyes on her, he circled her, ran his finger along her, putting her on a knife-edge. She tried to move her hands as he did it a second time, needing to touch him, and he shook his head.

‘No, Ginny. Not until I say.’

He kissed her, filling himself with her then, choosing his moment, angled inside her and, searching, found what he was after — he could tell by the way she shuddered and groaned into his mouth. He started a steady stroke with his finger, increasing the pressure gradually and her body started to quake. She couldn’t move, couldn’t respond, could only go with it and it crashed into her, hurtling her out into something like a void. She dragged her teeth over his mouth, pushed down and onto him, heard herself say his name, might’ve shouted it, she wasn’t sure, felt her legs start to shake. She buckled and he let go her hands, catching her before she fell. ‘Christ!’ She leant into him. Forget the keys. He could have the title to the whole damn building if he kept this up.

She steadied herself so she could stand, then reached to undo his belt. Pushed down his trousers, his boxers.

She lifted her leg and Mac caught it, hoisting her over his hip before running his hand along the smooth length of her thigh.

Bracing one hand on the door behind her, hooking the other around his neck, she kissed him harder, deeper. Lost now. And held on.

‘You,’ Mac turned his face into her neck as his ragged breathing returned to normal, ‘are spectacular.’ He placed his lips against her collarbone. ‘Absolutely spectacular.’ She didn’t answer and he stepped back to look at her, gently lowering her leg. ‘Ginny? You okay?’

She smiled and opened her eyes as she lifted her head from the back of the door. ‘Yes. Very. But please don’t let me go just yet. I’m still feeling a little … weak around the knees.’

He laughed, and ran his hands up to her waist, tightening them to pull her in for a kiss. He kept it going; he couldn’t help himself. Slow and lazy. Comfortable. Delicious. He raised his hands to her hair, gathered it, felt the weight of it. Despite himself, Mac felt something start to light up and he broke away from her. Half laughed, half groaned as he felt her breath at the base of his throat. ‘Even now, Ginn. Even after that, I still …’

She nodded, and flicked her tongue out to taste him. ‘I know.’ It was tempting, Ginny thought, to reach over and snap that little switch up. Lock the two of them inside her flat for the rest of the day. Instead, she opened her eyes, and let out a small laugh.

‘What?’

She pointed at the boxers and trousers bunched at his ankles. ‘Never a good look, that one.’

He grinned. ‘Yeah — well. You were in a bit of a hurry, Ginn.’ He bent down, pulled up his clothes and re-fastened his belt.

She raised her eyes to look at him. Feeling sexy and underdressed in nothing but her heels, she pushed off the door and placed her hands on his chest, ran them up over his shoulders, down his arms, back to his stomach, rested them on his hips. She closed her eyes and wished she didn’t have that meeting.

‘What time is your meeting?’ He was reading her mind.

‘Four. Yours?’

‘Soon. But I’ll skip it, if you like.’

She shook her head. ‘Attractive as that option is, I won’t be party to your poor work ethic.’

‘I have an outstanding work ethic.’ He drew his hands down her back. ‘And I’m also very good at prioritising.’

She laughed, and stepped around him. ‘No — you’d better go.’

He sighed and, looking at his watch, winced. He’d have to hurry. Mac pulled on his shirt. Ginny looked at the haphazard state of her own clothes and shook her head. There could be no resurrection there. As Mac fiddled with his cufflinks, she kicked off her heels, grabbed a throw from the couch and wrapped it around herself.

He looked up and saw her studying him closely. He met her eyes and, doing up his shirt buttons, moved towards her.

‘Okay?’ Had he taken things a bit far? As he’d admitted to his father, it was increasingly hard to keep a lid on what he felt for her, what he wanted, and he’d kept none of that in check today.

‘Of course.’

Mac pushed his hands deep into his pockets. She looked very lovely, wrapped up in that big blanket, hair down and messy from his hands. Wary eyes though, he had to admit.

‘Not too much? You can tell me.’

‘Not at all, Mac. It’s always nice to be wanted.’

‘You’re definitely that, Ginn. Don’t ever doubt it.’ He still couldn’t work out the expression, the wariness. He cupped her face, tracing a thumb under each eye, wishing he could wipe the hesitation away. ‘But you know that’s not all it is, right? It isn’t just that, Ginn … that I feel.’

Something on his face made that flutter start up in her again, strong and steady, like another heartbeat. Before she could stop herself, she mirrored him, placing her hands on either side of his face. Closing her eyes, she kissed him. Softly, tentatively, as if for the first time. Pulling back, she smiled, trying to mask the enormity of what she felt, of what was rushing through her and tugging her deep into his eyes. She took his hands, linking her fingers with his.

‘Still on for tonight?’

‘Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll pick you up, okay?’

‘Yes, please.’ She hesitated then said, ‘Afterwards — do you want to come back here? To stay?’

They’d spent a fair number of nights together, however she’d never asked him to stay like this, as part of the plan. ‘I’d love to. Does this mean I get to bring a toothbrush?’

She laughed. ‘Well, yes, that would make sense.’ She thought about what it would be like: starting the day together instead of him making the usual dawn dash back to his dad’s. It felt good, she realised. Scary, but good.

‘I’m honoured.’ He leant in, giving her a final kiss. ‘I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you soon.’

‘Sure.’

Well, she thought, as the door closed behind him. That was an exceptional break in the otherwise mundane routine of her day. She smiled, and stretched in satisfaction. And felt the flutter, still going strong.

Returning to the office twenty minutes later, Ginny couldn’t help blushing when Ange gave her a look.

‘Nice dress, Ginny.’

‘Um … yeah. I … ah … thought the suit was a bit too formal.’

Ange snorted. ‘Mac seemed awfully chipper on the way out.’

‘Mmmm,’ Ginny responded, heading for her desk. How was she going to focus on writing an ad when she suddenly felt overpowered by the urge to stare out the window and daydream about Mac?

‘How’s the door? All sorted then?’ Ange asked, following her in. ‘After all that’s gone on I’d hate to think you’re not safe and secure up there.’

Ginny looked up, and felt a huge, dopey grin spread across her face. ‘The door is fabulous, Ange. Absolutely fabulous. In fact, if I ever leave this place, I’m taking that door with me.’

‘Lucky cow.’ Shaking her head, laughing, Ange returned to her desk.

The next morning Ginny leant against the doorframe of her bedroom, sipping a coffee as she watched Mac put on his tie.

‘Sure you won’t come down to the bach?’ He flipped the silk tail and pulled it sharply through.

‘No.’ His hands moved neatly, knowing the routine well. ‘I’ve got some things to catch up on. And it’s George’s birthday party tomorrow. I promised Mads I’d help out.’

‘Ahhh.’ Mac pushed the knot up and picked up his jacket. ‘Should I …?’

She reached to bring his tie into true centre. ‘I wouldn’t do that to you. Four-year-old birthday parties are only fun if you’re four. You go do your thing and I’ll do mine.’ She smiled at him. It sounded so simple. ‘Give me a call when you get back, though?’

‘Of course.’ Slipping his phone into his pocket, Mac leant over and kissed her goodbye. ‘Have a great weekend.’

She nodded and, taking a mouthful of coffee, watched him leave.

As the door closed behind him she let out a laugh. Then swore. She’d fronted up — at least to herself. It was one thing to go to bed with your best mate; it was another thing entirely to fall in love with him.

Ginny looked at her flat, empty and still without him. Suddenly unsure, she didn’t know where that left her.

Later that night Mac had switched off the television at Gibson’s Bay and stood up to go to bed when his phone rang. Thinking it was Ginny, he reached for it and frowned when he saw who it was.

He answered immediately. ‘Sir?’

He sat back down on the couch as he listened.

‘Of course. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll leave immediately.’

When the call ended he carefully placed his phone on the coffee table, leaned forward and hung his head in his hands.

Chapter 28

Ginny’s week had started badly. Despite assurances that he would, Robert still hadn’t given her an answer. She risked losing both candidates if he didn’t make up his mind. To calm her increasingly frazzled nerves about the cursed role, and about Mac, she’d forgone her usual run for an early-morning Pilates session. She thought the slow moves and deep breathing would be beneficial, however, the opposite was true. Bloody low-impact exercise, she muttered to herself, as she dressed gingerly. Somewhere along the way she’d strained a muscle and was decidedly uncomfortable. So much for harmony and tranquility; she felt jittery and anxious, craving the release of a run but unless her hamstring miraculously stopped whining at her, she wouldn’t get out later either.

The sunshine of the past few weeks had finally given way to a light drizzle. It was as humid as all hell and her hair was already frizzing out of control. I look peaky, she thought, looking in the mirror. And it’s only the third week in January.

Walking cautiously downstairs in — by her standards — relatively modest heels, she sank gratefully into her chair. Feeling silly but way too sore to contemplate further movement, she texted Ange to ask her to pick up coffee for them both on her way up. Hesitating before putting her phone back down, Ginny argued briefly with herself before giving in and trying Mac’s number. Again. It went straight to voicemail. Again.

Opening her email, she sighed in relief as she clocked the initial ad response to the uni role. She spotted four of the six names Miles had spoken to last week, and smiled. Maybe the day was on the improve — a hope that was dashed when she opened an email from Stella.

‘Oh, my God!’

‘What?’ Ange walked in and handed Ginny her coffee.

‘It’s Stella Harrison. There was a fire at her place over the weekend. She’s lost half the house. They’re pretty sure it was deliberate.’

‘Shit! Is she okay? Her little boy?’

‘Yes, thank God. But she’s withdrawn her application. Too much to sort out.’

‘This role is a nightmare. Can you believe the stuff that’s happened since you started working on it? We should send her a food hamper or something.’

‘Good idea,’ Ginny replied absently, studying the email. She sipped her coffee, and considered what Ange had said.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in coincidences, but her faith in them was waning. She would still rather attribute everything that had happened to her to bad luck, rather than see herself as a target. But as she’d acknowledged to Mac, it wouldn’t surprise her if Miles had orchestrated everything. It wasn’t pleasant to consider he could have it in for her that much, but if he was behind it all, he was more of an arsehole than she’d given him credit for.

All this had started when she won the RK role from him. And Stella was part of the RK process. Ginny felt a little sick. Surely Miles wouldn’t do that? Setting fire to someone’s house was way out of line. But then, so was jumping someone on a run and vandalising an office. Ginny kept staring at Stella’s email, trying to connect the dots. Why on earth would Miles harm Stella?

She pulled out the card of her friendly police detective and called the number. It wouldn’t hurt to let him know there was a connection between her and the arson attack over the weekend. If they thought it was worth following up, they could.

She rang Robert next.

‘Seems the decision has been made for you, Robert. Stella has withdrawn her application.’

‘Oh. Well, then — I guess we’d better put an offer together for Daniel.’

‘Great.’ Ginny tried to inject some enthusiasm, but Ange was right: this role was a nightmare. She was glad it was all but done.

She tried Daniel throughout the day but didn’t get hold of him until late afternoon.

‘Daniel,’ she said, fed up. ‘I have an offer for you.’ She talked him through it and, although pleased, he didn’t sound as happy as he should.

Ungrateful bastard, Ginny thought, hanging up. She’d near jumped over the moon so he could get the job, and all he could offer was a distracted, ‘Thanks.’

Sighing, she called Robert to tell him she had a verbal yes and he could get the contract together.

Just after seven, Miles finally got to leave the police building where he had been unceremoniously ‘invited’ to attend a ‘discussion’ regarding his whereabouts on Saturday evening when someone had set fire to Stella Harrison’s. The fact that they’d brought up all that shit about Ginny again had further incensed him. There was nothing to link him to the car break-in, or the tyres. Even the rubbish bin had been pure chance. Chloe on reception had looked sideways at him when he’d got her to cancel Ginny’s meeting with Robert Kendrick, but as she was warming his sheets on a fairly regular basis he wasn’t worried that she’d let anything slip.

Had he gone too far, though? He’d got off on it, and being able to do it by remote control, so to speak, was even more of a rush. And it was clever, wasn’t it? A handy way to keep track of Ginny with two of her biggest accounts, which by rights should be his. But he didn’t like the way that detective had looked at him, and he knew absolutely nothing about the fire.

Sweating profusely, pissed off, and just a bit scared, he scampered across Aotea Square and onto Queen Street where he made a beeline for a pay phone. When the call was answered, he spoke rapidly — the fear and anger making his words come out in a rush.

‘What the fuck is going on? I’ve just spent the afternoon being questioned by the police about a fucking fire at Stella Harrison’s place. I told you to dial things up but that’s going way too fucking far!’ He paused, then swore loudly as he listened. ‘I’m glad you think it’s so fucking funny. She has a child, you idiot. Did you know that?’ He nodded as the other man spoke. ‘Yeah, well, she does. That was stupid and dangerous. This is about Ginny Hayes. No one else. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t head straight back in there and tell them what I know.’ He listened again, growing increasingly angry as things were spelled out for him.

‘You bastard!’ he hissed. The voice spoke again, calmly and reasonably. ‘Sure, sure, I’ll meet you. I have a few things to discuss with you too.’ Slamming down the phone, Miles took off down the street.

By Tuesday morning Ginny’s anxiety was pushing through the roof. She hadn’t heard from Mac since saying goodbye on Friday morning and she was terrified that he’d slid back into the NZSAS without telling her. Surely he wouldn’t do this to her again? She’d explicitly asked him to tell her before he left. But maybe he had. He could be halfway to the Middle East by now. Africa. Eastern Europe. Any-bloody-where. A small voice told her that if she really wanted to know, she could call Jen or Andrew and find out. But she wasn’t ready to learn that he’d gone and worse, that he’d left without saying goodbye.

She had slept terribly, but it meant she was at her desk early. Trying hard not to think about Mac, Ginny waded through the growing pile of applications for the uni role. The response had been outstanding and although she couldn’t attribute it solely to this role, she’d heard from a company she’d been trying to get in front of for months, who wanted to discuss an upcoming vacancy with her. Shine was definitely entering a new zone and although the thought cheered her, she’d be an awful lot happier if Mac would answer his bloody phone.

Soon after eight the buzzer sounded and Ginny picked up the intercom. It was Detective Johnston.

‘Any news?’ she asked, letting him into the office.

‘No. I’m here to ask you about James MacNamara? I believe he’s a close friend of yours. Do you know where he is?’

‘I don’t have a clue. Why?’

‘When did you last see him?’

‘Friday morning.’ She suddenly felt dizzy. ‘Why?’

‘Miles Hawthorne was seriously beaten last night. He was found in an alley off Fort Street. He’ll make it, but he’s in a bad way.’

Ginny sank down into Ange’s chair. ‘Did he say … that Mac …’

‘No. But we have his name as a friend of yours. At the hospital,’ he explained. ‘The police officer who interviewed you after you were attacked mentioned that Mr MacNamara seemed to believe Mr Hawthorne may have been behind the events. And that Mr MacNamara was very … protective … of you.’

‘He is. But Mac would never do anything like this.’ Would he? He certainly could; there was no doubt about that.

‘Do you have any idea where I might find him?’

‘Um … not really. You could try him at work, I guess.’ She wrote Mac’s office line and the address of the firm on a piece of paper. The police might reach him at work even if she hadn’t managed to, and just because she was afraid to ring Mac’s dad didn’t mean Detective Johnston was.

‘It’s his father’s firm. Andrew MacNamara. He’ll be able to tell you where Mac is. But he wouldn’t do this,’ Ginny repeated. ‘He wouldn’t.’

She sat for some time after Detective Johnston left. In shock. Confused. And a little bit lost. Falling in love was a bad idea. When the rug gets pulled out from under you there is nowhere to fall but straight on your arse.

Soon after midday Daniel arrived unannounced, proffering an obscenely large bunch of flowers.

‘Here.’ He handed them over with a smile. ‘You deserve them. It’s been a long journey, and I know I’ve been difficult at times but I just want to say thanks. For sticking with it. With me.’

Ginny took them and smiled weakly at him. ‘You’re welcome. Have you got the contract yet?’

‘No, but Camilla rang to say they’ll bike it over later today, or first thing tomorrow. Something about a confidentiality clause needing to be looked over by their lawyer?’

‘Of course.’ None of this process had been straightforward. ‘Well, let me know when you get it and if I can answer any questions, give me a shout.’ She was keen to get rid of him. His smile was giving her the creeps and its constancy reminded her of The Joker.

‘Sure.’ A slight frown creased his otherwise smooth forehead. ‘Are you okay? You seem a little pale.’

‘Fine thanks, Daniel. Just a rough couple of days.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He reached out and gently squeezed her arm.

She saw concern on his face. His eyes, however, were still smiling.

‘Thanks, Daniel.’ She stepped away, breaking contact. ‘I’m very grateful you dropped by, and for the flowers, but I have a meeting soon.’

‘Of course. I’ll leave you to it.’ He hesitated. ‘Maybe I could take you out for a drink? To say thank you?’

‘Sure. Give me a call when you’re settled into the new role.’ She led him to the door and watched as he walked down the stairs.

‘You’ve got to be kidding, right?’ Ange asked, as the street door closed behind him.

Ginny gave her a small smile. ‘Of course. He’ll forget about it.’

She went into her office and picked up the — third — RK folder. Usually this stage of the process — tidying up the file and putting it away, creating the final invoice, sending a congratulations card from Shine Consulting — filled her with pleasure. It signalled a job well done, another happy candidate and another happy client. She didn’t feel that way about how this project was wrapping up.

Ginny leafed through the folder, and caught sight of the list of firms she’d called in Edinburgh, searching for Mark Hutchinson. It made her think of Mac and of the weekend they’d spent together at Gibson’s. Trying to push the memory away, she pulled out the piece of paper. Looking at the name of the place in Inverness where Mark apparently now worked, Ginny argued with herself.

It wasn’t strictly kosher, but Daniel had signed a release for her to talk to referees. And he hadn’t returned the contract yet, so technically he was still more her candidate than Robert’s employee. And he was starting to make her skin crawl. She realised she didn’t trust him, and wondered whether she would be doing a good-enough job by Robert if she didn’t follow up a bit more.

It wouldn’t hurt to talk to him, see what he could tell her about Daniel. She pulled out the sheet of paper. She was going to give Mark a call.

Well, that was interesting, she thought later that night after she’d hung up. It was the correct Mark Hutchinson; confirming that with him was easy enough, but he was very reluctant to talk once he discovered why she was calling.

‘Dan gave you this number?’ Mark asked incredulously. ‘He told you I was here?’

Odd choice of words, she realised. It implied that Daniel did have the number, did know where Mark was. ‘Ah, no. I tracked you down actually. I found out you’d moved to Scotland, and from there it was just a matter of making a few calls.’

The man laughed in disbelief. ‘How did you even get my name?’

She explained that she’d spoken with Vanessa and that his name had come up.

‘Look — I don’t really have anything to say about Dan. We worked together a while back now. I can’t help.’

‘I just have a few questions about the type of projects he worked on, how he works — his style, I guess. That sort of thing.’ She spoke quickly, sensing he was ready to hang up. ‘It won’t take long.’

Mark laughed, and she heard the flick and rasp of a lighter, the drag on a cigarette. ‘His style? Look, love, you probably don’t want to hear too much about that.’ He paused, exhaling. ‘We didn’t do all that much work together. Just leave it, okay?’

And with that the line went dead.

Wondering about what he’d said, Ginny went to bed and stared at the ceiling for a long time before finally drifting off to sleep.

The next morning dawned clear and hot as the days of rain gave way to what was proving to be a glorious summer. Ginny woke energised … and furious.

Bloody men, she raged, as she got ready. They’re a bunch of bloody shysters. Not one of them deserved the care and attention she provided. Time-wasting, game-playing shysters. Well, she decided, marching downstairs for a coffee, she wasn’t going to be taken for a ride any longer. Daniel Baire was up to something, she knew it. And Mac? Well, he could bugger off back to his sandpit; she was past caring.

She growled out her order to Bruno/Marco and all but hissed when he asked how her morning was. They’re all the same, she reminded herself: untrustworthy, undeserving, the whole friggin’ lot of them.