Taking the Heat (15 page)

He dropped his head into his hands, too ashamed to even look at me, and my heart broke for him. Of course it wasn't his fault—it was my choice to risk everything for that last key.

With Chris' words of comfort brewing inside me, I was struck by a thought:
Why did I do it?
I knew I would fall and I reached for that key anyway. Dante was part of it, of course; I didn't want to sleep with him and if that key told me I didn't have to, that would have been awesome.

But it was more than that. It wasn't just about not having sex with Dante. It was about Chris. I reached for that key because he asked me to.

Looking at him, distraught on the end of my bed, after spending the night by my side, I realised something horrifying;
I'm falling in love with Chris.

I can't be falling in love, I'm not allowed to fall in love, that's not why I'm here!
My brain threw lots of logic at me, but the feeling remained. Then my conscience dropped the bomb:
You don't deserve to be in love. After Ella, you deserve nothing.

Tears rushed hot and fast to my eyes. I'd already tried asking Chris to stay away and it didn't work. And I couldn't stop myself around him. My brain was addled with feelings for him and my body was hopelessly his, even when I tried to avoid him. I knew what I had to do; I had to break whatever was between us, give him a reason not to love me back.

With my soul tearing, I forced myself to speak. ‘I could have been really hurt, Chris. You weren't thinking about me, just yourself and the prize. I don't know if I want to spend time around someone who cares more about the money than my safety.'

He looked up, tears illuminating his bright blue eyes in grief. ‘I don't, I swear, Tara, please—'

‘I don't want to see you right now.' I turned away, unable to look at his stricken face. ‘Please go.'

‘Tara …' The pain in that single word almost cracked my resolve. I concentrated on Ella's face in my head, letting the guilt convince me I was doing the right thing.

I hardened my expression and clenched my fists. ‘Get out, Chris. Whatever this is between us, I'm done.'

He lifted off the bed, heavily, as if his sadness weighed him down. Pausing at the door, he said, ‘For the record, babe, the only prize I came here to win was you.'

I waited until I was sure he was gone, before turning to my pillow and falling apart in huge heavy sobs that made my chest ache and my head bump throb.

***

They kept me for another three days to observe me. I requested all the mind-numbing pain meds they allowed and did everything I could to avoid thinking about Chris and his last words to me.

I got back this morning. I haven't seen anyone yet, but I'll re-join the competition tomorrow.

(Producer, off camera:
Tara, why does your sister mean you aren't allowed to be in love? I'm sure Ella would want you to be happy.
)

I don't want to talk about it.

(But, surely—)

I
don't
want to talk about it. Move on.

(Okay, all right. So, you've missed a few days of competition and two dates as well.)

Who were the dates meant to be with?

(Chase, the American banker and Lars.)

That's fine. I don't care anymore. I just want to get through the next two weeks, go into that cabin, get my million and go home to my sister. That's all.

***

Transcript of Tara M's video diary: Day 11

Today started and I couldn't have been less excited. Another date day, another random guy to deal with. I sat like a zombie in the makeup chair as Mama Ruby and her team worked their magic.

‘Girl! What are you lookin' all down in the dumps for?' she asked, straightening my hair into a glossy sheet. ‘You lookin' fine, the sun is shinin' and there's a man on his way here now to take you out! Smile, why don't you?'

I did as she asked, stretching my lips wide.

‘Argh! Forget I asked. Child, you look like the devil himself is sleeping in your bed.'

Reflecting on the inevitable end to this competition, I replied, ‘Maybe he will be.'

The door saved me. A series of gentle knocks sent my team into a frenzy.

‘She's not ready!'

‘What'll we do?'

‘Oh god! Oh god!'

Mama Ruby sorted us all out. ‘Quick, girly, into the bathroom with you. Get changed and we'll let your feller in.'

‘Thanks, Mama,' I murmured.

In the sunny bathroom, I pulled on the waiting outfit: black skinny jeans and a translucent top in shiny peacock colours. With a brilliant cobalt bikini top underneath and matching sandals, I looked the way I felt—dark and blue.

Opening the door, I called out, unenthusiastically, ‘Hello?'

A nervous voice answered from the balcony. ‘Tara? Out here!'

‘Henry.' I knew his voice before I saw him. He looked somehow familiar and safe, after my days of self-imposed solitude, and I smiled, a genuine smile. ‘Hi.'

‘Hullo. I've missed you terribly.' Backlit by the morning, Henry's hair glowed gold like a halo. His warm brown eyes were wide with concern. ‘They wouldn't let me see you. How are you feeling?'

Surprised by my own answer, I said, ‘Better. Much better.'

‘Good! You look… really good.'

I laughed, the noise sounding strange. ‘I look like hell, but thanks anyway.'

‘You look like heaven to me.' Only Henry could pull that line off and not sound corny.

‘So, what are we doing today?'

‘Well, I thought you probably wouldn't want to do anything extreme, like mountain climbing or parasailing.'

‘You would be right.'

‘So, I've secured us a catamaran for the day. No pressure, no schedule, just you and me on a big boat. How does that sound?'

‘Heavenly.'

He grinned happily. ‘I'm so glad. Shall we?'

***

Just past the turnoff for the swimming pool, the path led us to a long jetty extending out to sea. A shiny white catamaran awaited us, complete with a two-man sailing crew, a camera team and a waiter, who offered us champagne and strawberries as we stepped aboard.

The fresh air felt good whipping around my face, as the cat pushed off from the jetty and we headed for the open sea. A little table was set for lunch, and Henry pulled my chair out for me as we sat. Prawns in a cold seafood sauce glistened on my plate, and I felt my appetite flare for the first time in days.

Scooping up a pink crustacean, I let it explode in flavour inside my mouth. ‘Oh … that's great.'

Henry said, ‘It's good to see you eating. You look like you haven't been doing much of that lately.'

‘Well, you know hospital food,' I deflected, spreading a yellow pat of butter on a slice of sourdough.

‘Tara, forgive me if this is too personal, but … I can't help but notice you do your best not to enjoy anything.'

‘That's not true.' I felt my walls slam up.

‘Perhaps I'm wrong,' Henry said, flustered. ‘If I am, I'm sorry. I just wanted to tell you that whatever it is that makes you feel like you don't deserve to be happy, could you try to forget it? Just for today?' He leaned towards me, his pale blue shirt falling open at the neck, revealing acres of creamy skin down his defined chest.

Henry is so very different to Chris. Chris is an all-consuming obsession, the fire under my skin. He makes me feel like flying. The best and happiest I've ever felt in my life is in his arms. He might even be the one.

I don't deserve the way he makes me feel.

But Henry is like a balm; he's neutral, cancelling out the dark feelings without making my heart twist in guilt over how happy I am. He's a warm bath, or your favourite pair of jeans. Nice. Not amazing, but nice. And I think I can let myself feel nice, at least for the next two weeks. After that, he'll be gone anyway, and I can dedicate myself to Ella. Just the way it should be.

I answered him, finally. ‘You're right. I don't let myself have a lot of fun. But I think, today might be an exception.'

Henry's face broke into a sunny smile. ‘Wonderful. I'm so glad. Here, try the brie …'

We ate our lunch and it was simple and good. Henry chatted about his love of wine tasting and I told him about a vodka restaurant I'd been to in St Kilda recently.

With our tummies full, we slathered on sunscreen. I peeled off my skinny jeans and floaty top, enjoying the feel of the sun on my bikini body.

‘Do you want to lie on the netting with me?' Henry indicated the stretchy net that hung suspended between the two sides of the cat. I nodded, and we crawled out over the water, only the thin elastic strips separating us from the rushing sea below.

Rolling onto my belly, I shielded my eyes from the bright sky, the exact colour of Chris' eyes.
Stop! Don't torture yourself!
Straining to stay in the moment, I asked Henry, ‘So, what's life like for the seventh in line for the throne of England?'

Henry lay back beside me, squinting and screwing up his nose. ‘It's … look, I can't complain. My family oversee a very large estate, and it's not like I'm coal mining for a living or anything. Most days, I help with the running of the property, attend events, work with charities, that sort of thing.'

He turned his mocha eyes on me, looking more like a puppy dog than ever. ‘But it can be quite lonely. Most of the people I work with are staff, who treat me like I'm actually the King. Then there's my extended family—you don't need me to tell you how messy and dysfunctional the monarchy is at the moment.

‘And the media, of course, they are relentless. If I have a drink at an event, I'm an alcoholic. If I speak with a married woman, I'm a home-wrecker. Speak with a man, I'm gay. I can't ever win.'

He looked so tragic, I wanted to give him a hug. ‘I'm sorry about the press, but I'm sure your staff like you. And, to be honest, everybody has weirdos in their extended family. I have an uncle who thinks he can tell your fortune by inspecting your earwax, and two of my second cousins married each other last year.'

Henry laughed. ‘Gosh, Tara, you are a funny girl. I really like you.'

‘I like you too, Henry.'

‘No, really,' he said, shaking his head. ‘You're the first person I've met in a long time who likes me for
me
. And I like you. Do you know how rare that is for someone like me?'

‘I can imagine.'

‘Tara …' He licked his lips, nervous, like a little boy. ‘I'd like to use a strike with you. Only if you want to, of course, and if you don't, that's perfectly understandable—'

I reached for his hand and rolled onto my back. ‘I'd like that too.' I meant it. Henry doesn't rock my world like Chris does, but he's gorgeous and gentle and cares for me. I've kissed people for worse reasons.

Henry raised a soft hand to my face and stroked my cheek with his thumb. ‘I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever met,' he said sincerely, then moved in for the kiss.

His lips landed on mine, feather light and delicate. He planted several soft kisses around my mouth, while bringing up his second hand up to the other side of my face. Moving forward, he hovered above me, pressing me gently back onto the netting.

As I moved my hands up to Henry's chest and let my fingers roam around his biceps, I found myself heating up more than expected. There was something about the reverence Henry treated me with which broke through the walls guarding my feelings. Mystified, I gave up trying to figure anything out, and simply enjoyed the way Henry's breath quickened as I ran my nails down his back.

Breaking the kiss, Henry looked down upon me with wonder. ‘Tara …'

I didn't want to hear more words. I wanted more of him. Reaching for him, I clasped his shoulders and pulled him back to me. The feeling of his solid mass against me was comforting and when his fingers intertwined with mine, I squeezed them back.

Our lips connected again, but when I pushed towards him, aching for more, Henry moved away, keeping everything light and PG-rated. I wanted to know what his hands would feel like on my skin, aching for sensations to sweep away my logic and stop my stupid brain from overthinking for even a few minutes.

Apparently I was moving a bit too fast for my poor English beau. As I slipped my hands free from his and ran them down to his pert backside, Henry squeaked and shifted away. He caught my wrists and brought my hands to his lips, kissing the pads of my fingers. It was lovely, but if I only had a few chances on this island to make out, I wanted to do it properly.

Leaning up, I caught Henry's earlobe with my teeth and bit it softly. I felt him go limp under my attention, his ragged moan telling me he wanted more. Pulling the lobe into my mouth further, I sucked on it, while bringing his hands to my breasts.

The second before his fingers made contact with my bikini top, a crew member cleared his throat. ‘Ahem … guys, you've got thirty seconds left before you rack up a second strike.'

Groaning in disappointment, I fell back to the netting. Henry looked like he'd just seen the Queen rocking out to Black Sabbath in her underwear.

‘Are you okay?' I asked.

No answer.

‘Henry? Hello?'

‘Yes!' He took me by surprise, leaping to his feet and bouncing on the netting, sending me flying. ‘Yes! I'm better than okay! I'm brilliant! I'm stupendous! I'm enraptured!'

Giggling, I tried to regain my balance enough to stand next to him. ‘I'm glad you liked it.'

‘Liked it? My dear, darling, Tara, I didn't like that; that was the single greatest kiss I've ever experienced!' He turned to me, his face bright and joyful. ‘I knew you were special, I knew what I felt for you, I just never knew you'd feel it too.'

How in the hell could I tell him I wasn't feeling whatever he was? He was so happy. What did it matter if I let him believe my world had been rocked too? After all, it hadn't been bad. It was just like everything else about Henry; it was nice. It was enough.