Three Words: A Novella Collection (27 page)

Especially,
one particular person. Johnny.

I walked along
a row of shelving, stopping to pick up a glass bauble with a cheeky
porcelain elf inside that seemed to be grinning at me in the exact
same way Johnny loved to.

God, he got
under my skin. I’d tried hard not to let him but ever since I’d
kissed him at Sam and Millie’s wedding, he’d been invading my
dreams. Some nights I’d wake up practically orgasmic after he’d
been in my head. Then I’d lay there all night worrying about this
paradox of me liking him but knowing it went against every boundary
I’d ever set for myself. Johnny was a letch and a sleaze and so
desperate he’d hook up with anything that had legs. It meant
nothing when me told me he loved me. He told every woman in Perth
that in the hope they’d cave and go to bed with him. Yet, there I
was, weak and pathetic, thinking about Johnny’s gorgeous face and
rugged body. Again. Constantly.

I put the
bauble back in its box and walked further along the row trying to
force him from my head.

Argghhh
. Why I’d ever locked lips with him was beyond me.
What I did know for certain, though, was that I had no intention of
ever doing it again. Not even if he actually turned into Leonardo
diCaprio in his sleep.

Okay, well
maybe then.

Leonardo was
incredibly hot.

Chapter 2

“
Deck the hall with boughs of holly... Fa la la la la la la la
la...”

‘
Tis the season with too much jolly… Blah, blah
blah.

I sat at the
makeshift bar, nursing an empty glass of red and looking at the
festive scene around me. This year’s work Christmas do was like a
suited version of Saturday night at the Hornet’s clubrooms — music
blaring, girls singing badly and old guys in the corner reminiscing
with their ties flipped over their shoulders so as not to dip them
in their drinks. Then there were the young ones downing shots along
the other end of the bar. Not to mention, my P.A. Julie, who was
doing her best to latch onto the bike courier. He had to be about,
oh, twenty years Julie’s junior. It was worse than watching Simmo
make eyes at that big stuffed bear in the clubrooms after he’d had
a few.

Shaking my
head, I gazed into my glass. It was like being in a nuthouse at
this time of year but I supposed the Christmas season was like
that. People behaved in unpredictable ways. They used the
photocopier to take pictures of their bums; they wore ridiculous
outfits around the office that they wouldn’t be seen dead in any
other time of the year; they sang Christmas tunes even if they
couldn’t sing. Bloody loons. They were all insane.

“
Hey Mel.”

And case in
point.

I looked up
from my glass as Johnny sidled up to the bar and sat down on an
empty stool beside me. He’d changed from his office attire and was
wearing a pair of dark denims and a deep red t-shirt that, despite
the fact it showed every rippling muscle in his torso, was
overshadowed by the slogan,
Dear Santa, all I want for Christmas
is your list of naughty girls…

Fabulous. All
I needed was for Johnny to jump on the festive bandwagon. Who the
hell was I going to not give a shit about Christmas with now?

“
Are you kidding with that t-shirt?” I asked, ignoring his
cheery hello. “Do you purposely get off on making women loathe
you?”

“
You don’t hate me.”

“
I think you underestimate the level of dislike I have for
you, Johnny. I’m good at keeping it hidden.”

Johnny let me
have his sexiest smile. My insides quivered even though I told them
not to.

“
You kissed me. More than once if I remember
correctly.”

And hadn’t
that been the mistake of the century. Sure, I couldn’t deny Johnny
was a great kisser and there was something about him that heated up
every inch of me when our lips met, but he was such a fool, an
idiot and
soooo
immature. Seriously, the man had just
whipped a Santa hat from god knows where and was sitting next to me
adjusting it on his head. I knew it was probably another of his
lame attempts to pick up women and I had to give him points for
persistence but I could never be with a man like that. I’d spend my
entire life cringing in corners.

Seemingly
unperturbed by what I supposed was the disgusted look on my face,
Johnny pulled a flat red box tied with shiny green ribbon from the
small backpack at his feet. He held it out. “For you, my
sweet.”

“
What’s this?” I glanced down at the box. It was quite large,
with a gaudy red bauble perched on top of the bow. I was almost too
afraid to look inside.

“
I thought you might like to join the rest of the world. In
case you hadn’t noticed, it’s Christmas. You’re meant to be
happy.”

It was a sweet
gesture, and not one I’d expect from a man who spent his Saturdays
pummelling other men into the mud and then drinking beer with them
afterwards. But that was Johnny for you. One minute he was behaving
like a five-year-old and the next he was being very sweet and
genuinely charming, so much so that at times he could pass for a
man who cared a damn.

“
What have I done to deserve this?”

“
Nothing. You never do anything. You’re just you. Bitch from
hell—”

A small smile
tugged at the edges of my mouth. That much was true. I had been a
bit of a cow lately — okay, so I was a cow most of the time. But I
was a woman in a man’s world. I’d been let down by the one man who
meant more to me than anything. I had a lifetime mistrust of men
that had hardened my heart to the point where it was easier to be
brash and rude and keep people at arm’s length than it was to let
them in.

“—
Happy Christmas.”

I softened at
the gentle smile on Johnny’s face. It was one I rarely saw and it
made me realise I probably could be a little nicer to these people
I called my friends; loosen up a little. Johnny was always there
for us. As a friend he was the best — loyal, kind, funny. Maybe I
should try to be more like him?

Eww
.
Had I just thought that?

“
It’s kind of you. Sometimes you must even surprise yourself
with such bursts of generosity. What’s inside?” I pulled the ribbon
from the box and lifted the lid.

“
It’s just a bit of a laugh.”

I held the
gift — a t-shirt that matched Johnny’s — in front of me, my eyes
taking in the words and image printed on the front.

Dear Santa,
All I want for Christmas is enough wine to get me through
Christmas. Please.

It was like
he’d read my mind and despite the fact that it was an utterly
ridiculous gift, it seemed to have achieved the desired result of
making me lighten up. I felt rather more buoyant than I had two
minutes ago. To know that there was one person in the world who had
gone out of his way to make me smile made me feel warm inside. And
a bit gooey.

I never felt
gooey.

I folded the
t-shirt and put it back in the box. Then, leaning over, I kissed
Johnny’s cheek and gave his knee an affectionate rub. “Thanks. You
didn’t have to go to the trouble, but thanks.”

Johnny’s hand
reached down and came to rest on top of my own. Suddenly, his eyes
were gazing intensely into mine and I noticed flecks of grey within
the vivid blue. I’d never paid that much attention to his eyes
before. They were quite beautiful.

“
Is everything okay?” he asked, his stare reaching a place
inside me I hadn’t known I possessed. I wished he’d stop. It was
unnerving.

“
Why?”

“
You’re off your game. Normally, you’d have called me a
degenerate fuckwit by now and hit me with my own
present.”

“
Normally you’d be behaving like one.”

Johnny looked
around the room and raised his glass to our boss. “I’m on my best
behaviour. New job and all that. What’s your excuse?”

“
I hate Christmas.”

“
Whoa. Big call. T’is the season to be jolly.” He cocked an
ear to the music and chuckled at his own joke. Then he stilled.
“Look, I know how shitful this time of year is for you. That’s why
I got you the present. I thought it might give you a
laugh.”

That was one
way of putting it.

“
But if I’d known I was gonna get such a positive reaction —
as in lip action — I’d have bought you the matching bra and
knickers. I can see you in red fur.”

And there was
the real Johnny Jones.

“
Don’t push your luck.”

“
So a shag’s out of the question, then?” His voice was no more
than a deep and raspy whisper that sent tingles of desire through
my body, unlocking a feeling I’d buried a long time back. His blue
eyes began to twinkle with something rather dirty and lustful and
for a minute — only a minute — I was almost tempted.

Then I
remembered it was Johnny.

Lothario of
the highest order. Man to never be trusted.

I straightened
and removed my hand from his knee. “You never let it go, do you?
Tell me again how you managed to weasel your way into my workplace?
There’s at least twenty big name law firms in town, and you choose
mine.”

“
Maybe I couldn’t stay away from you any longer.”

“
Or maybe no one else would have you.” I snorted.

Johnny
shrugged. “Want another drink?”

I watched as
Johnny handed a couple of notes to the barman who took the glasses
away and replaced them with filled fresh ones. Johnny’s hands were
smooth and large and for a fleeting second my mind began to drift,
wondering how they would feel on my body.

Eww
.
Ugh
. Stop! I was doing it again. I couldn’t be having lewd
thoughts about Johnny’s hands. It was well,
eww
. Grabbing
the t-shirt from the box, I jumped off my stool.

Then I saw
that twinkle in his eye again. “You were perving on my hands.”

Now, he’d
think I wanted him. Which I didn’t. Okay, I did but I wasn’t
willing to own it just yet. It was Johnny, for God’s sake.

“
Don’t be ridiculous… I’m, er, going to the toilet to change
into this top.”

“
Bet you were wondering what I could do with them,” I heard
him call after me. “How about I come to the toilets and show
you?”

“
How about you don’t.”

Clearly,
Johnny forgotten that Millie had ended up pregnant with twins after
her and Sam’s little adventure in the toilet a few months back. I
had no intention of becoming the second victim. Ignoring his
guffaw, I raced for the safety of the toilets.

*****

A short while
later and feeling more in the Christmas mood, I sat back down at
Johnny’s side. He’d lined up two tequila shots for each of us and a
red wine chaser.

“
Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“
If it means you’ll stop acting like the bitch from hell.” He
picked up his tequila. “Bottoms up.”

I followed
suit, quickly sucking on the lime afterwards. Not that it stopped
my throat from burning like hell. I think it may actually have lost
all feeling.

Johnny picked
up the second shot. “Slammer,” he noted. “Tequila with a touch of
lemonade. Swirl, swirl, slam and skull.” He demonstrated, following
the act with the smile he reserved for unsuspecting girls on a
Saturday night. Luckily, I was not unsuspecting. I copied, feeling
the warm sting of the tequila in my throat and the buzz moving to
my brain. If we kept it up at this pace I’d be on my ear in ten
minutes. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Two bite sized squares of
Christmas chocolate and a few hors d’oeuvres didn’t constitute a
meal that would soak up alcohol.

“
Better now?” Johnny asked.

“
Much. I had a bit of a sore throat until I drank that. I
think you’ve cured it.”

“
Anything for a damsel in distress.”

I gave Johnny
a look, picked up my fresh glass of wine and took a sip. If I
hadn’t known better, I’d have said he meant that, that he was being
nice to me. I decided not to comment.

“
What do you think?” I indicated the shirt, which I’d
attempted to nullify the silliness of by tucking it into the
waistband of my black pencil skirt.

Johnny nodded
in approval. “Looks hot.”

“
It’s a little tight.”

“
I ordered it that way on purpose—”

Of course he
had.

“—
It’s a shame for the world not to see your tits. They’re
gorgeous.”

Just when you
thought he was bloody normal.

I punched him
in the arm and he winced as if it hurt.

“
Hey, did you get your email from Kirby about the Secret
Santa?” Johnny asked, giving his arm a rub.

I had. Kirby
had been right onto it after we’d parted ways earlier in the
afternoon. She’d sent out emails to all the gang, complete with
photos showing her pulling names from a hat to prove she hadn’t
rigged the draw for gifts. A bulleted list of acceptable and
non-acceptable items including ‘like, no rugby merchandise for
girls’ and ‘no gift vouchers because they’re like, totally, a
cop-out’, had accompanied the message.

“
I did.” Funnily enough, I’d drawn Johnny as my Secret Santa,
though I had no clue what I was going to buy a man who had
everything except a woman. A blow up doll, maybe?

“
Who’d you get?” he asked.

“
It’s meant to be a fucking surprise, you fool. How did you
ever get a degree?”