Just My Luck (3 page)

He watched as Nate set them down, wiped his wet hand absently on his slacks.

“Geez,” Nate sighed. “Could I have mucked that up any more?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t stared at her tits as well,” Liam said helpfully.

 Nate groaned. “Go on. Rub it in.”

“She doesn’t seem impressed with your smooth technique so far,” Liam said. “Maybe try spilling food on her next.”

He was still chuckling as he turned away. Toro might be his skipper and his best mate, but no question, he took things much too seriously these days. It was good for him to get shaken up a bit. And Liam had a feeling that girl had started the job already. If Toro wasn’t careful, she was going to turn him right around. Chew him up and spit him out.

He stopped thinking about his friend, though, when he saw the other one. The blonde he’d stood next to at the gym this afternoon. The one who had barely noticed him beside her, so fiercely had she been concentrating on belaying her friend, on getting it right.

Liam had thought she was gorgeous then, without any makeup, her golden hair pulled into a high ponytail, her tall showgirl figure rocking the simple T-shirt and climbing pants, not to mention the harness. Yeh. The harness. And now, in those lace clothes that made him think immediately of lingerie, the high heels making her endless legs appear even longer, the waves of golden hair falling around her face, down her back, she was nothing short of spectacular. The skirt was long enough. At least it would have been on somebody without all that leg. And nothing was all that tight. It was just . . . her.

But something was wrong, he realized. She stood a couple meters away, facing him, several of Liam’s Hurricanes teammates surrounding her, doing their best to chat her up. It couldn’t have been a new situation for her, somebody who looked like that. She had a glass in her hand, a smile on the beautiful lips. But the smile was frozen, and the sapphire-blue eyes had a desperate look to them that he recognized. She was doing her best to maintain, but for some reason, she was overwhelmed.

Kristen tried to overcome the feelings of panic.
Breathe through it,
she told herself desperately.
Ride the wave.
But nothing was working. She felt trapped, and she was going under.

She’d tried to find some women to talk to, but somehow had never been able to join the group, hovering at the edge until she’d given up. She wasn’t sure where Ally was, and Hannah and Drew were in the midst of a group of people in the far corner of the room. So here she was, standing in a group of men, all too big, too tall, too avid, while the familiar coils twisted in her belly, rose through her body.

She started at a touch on her arm. It was the man from the gym, she realized. The one who’d stood next to her, belaying his friend while she had been doing the same for Ally. She’d noticed him because he hadn’t tried to talk to her. Had just smiled at her, and she’d thought at the time that he had the kindest eyes she’d ever seen. Now those eyes held a look of concern, and the smile was missing.

“All right?” he asked her quietly, his deep voice still audible over the hum of voices, the pulsing background music.

“I’m . . .” She started to say she was fine, changed her mind as the anxiety spiraled higher. “Is there a quiet place?”

“Yeh. Come with me.”

She cast an automatic smile around the group, then followed the solid, thick figure leading the way. He stepped through the lounge doorway into a passage, and she worried for a moment that he’d misinterpreted her question. But he was walking into a big, modern kitchen now, where he stopped at the breakfast bar and turned to her.

“Sit down,” he told her. “Glass of water?”

“Please,” she said, her breath still feeling too shallow.  She hopped up onto a stool and hooked her high heels over a rung, pressed her hands between her knees for warmth.

He nodded, turned to a cupboard, seeming to know his way around perfectly. Pulled out a couple glasses and filled them from a bottle in the fridge, handed one to her.

“Cheers,” he said, a smile lightening the effect of the much-broken nose, the misshapen ears and close-cropped, wavy black hair over a neck that was so thick, it was almost a continuation of the head above. Then he looked at her more closely.

“Breathe,” he told her, taking the glass back from her and setting it on the bar again. “Deep breaths.”

Tears came to her eyes as she obeyed.

“You need a paper bag?” he asked. “Hyperventilating?”

She shook her head wordlessly.

“Cup your hands over your mouth,” he directed, demonstrating for her. “Deep breaths, in and out.” He kept his intent gaze on her, his scrutiny oddly comforting, as she followed his instructions.

“Thanks,” she said shakily when she was feeling more herself again. She reached for the glass of water, took a drink. “How did you know?”

“Anxiety attack, eh,” he answered. “I know the look of it.”

“Did you know somebody who had them?” she asked, wanting to hear him talk some more, the rumble of his voice soothing the remaining jitters.

“Yeh. Me.”

“You?”

“I guess you know by now that anxiety doesn’t discriminate,” he said, taking a seat on the stool one over from hers. Not getting too close. Not crowding her. “Or that how you look on the outside isn’t always how you’re feeling on the inside.”

“You’re right,” she said, still shivering a little with nerves. “I should know that. I’m sorry.”

He got up again, opened a door leading to a back porch, came back with a flannel shirt that he draped over her shoulders without touching her, before going back to sit on his stool. “There. Warm up a bit.”

She pulled the heavy thing around her gratefully. “Thanks. I’ll be all right in a minute. I thought this was going to be fine. I thought it might be fun. A chance to get back out into the world a little.” She felt herself choking up again, blinked the tears back. “But I don’t really want to be back out there after all, I guess,” she said, hating how forlorn she sounded.

“Bad breakup?”

“Divorce,” she sighed. “It’s been final about four months. That’s why I’m here. A change.”

“The New World,” he agreed. “The
new
New World.”

“That’s right. New job, new name . . . Well, the old name back. New me.”

“I don’t know the new name,” he said. “But I’d like to. I’m Liam Mahaka.”

“Ma . . . Sorry. I didn’t quite get it.”

“Mahaka,” he repeated, putting the accent strongly on the first syllable, the second one almost disappearing.

“Kristen Montgomery,” she said. “And I’d better let you get back to your party, and get back myself before Hannah gets worried and comes looking for me.”

“Hannah,” he said slowly, speculation dawning in the brown eyes.

“My sister.”

“Then you have nothing whatever to worry about out there,” he told her with a rueful grin. “I’m going to take a guess here that those boys don’t know yet that you’re Hannah’s sister. Do I take it you’re not interested? That you didn’t come here tonight looking for . . . love?”

“Not love, not an imitation either,” she sighed. “I was thinking, maybe meet some people. Start making some friends. Women too, I hoped. But I don’t know. That’s always hard. I haven’t found any friends here yet, not at my job either. I’m sure glad I have Ally. And I’m sorry.” She brought herself up short with a little laugh. “Why am I telling you all this?”

He ignored the question, focused on what she’d revealed. “Because you intimidate them,” he guessed. “Because they make assumptions about the kind of person you are.”

“How do you know so much?” she wondered. “I wouldn’t think . . .”

“That I’d care about people, because of how I look,” he finished for her with a gentle smile completely at odds with his appearance. “See how easy it is to do?”

She laughed, feeling a whole lot more cheerful than when she’d come in here. “Guilty.”

She slid to her feet, took off the flannel shirt with regret and handed it back to him. “And thanks. I’m going to go back out there again now, and soldier on.”

Chance Encounters

“I need to stop going for coffee,” Ally said the following Friday afternoon. “It’s just way too tempting a habit.”

She was sitting across from Kristen at one of the little triangular tables of Espressoholic, the explosion of funky art and color around them a perfect backdrop, she thought, for Kristen in her simple work outfit of cream silk shirt and fawn trousers. Kristen was always so accessorized, too. Belt, bag, earrings, the works, all looking like she’d just happened to throw them on and they just happened to look perfect. Whereas Ally felt like she was doing well if her socks matched. She sneaked a peek down beneath her climbing pants. Yep. Match. Score.

“I’d be happy to pay for you next time,” Kristen assured her. “I needed some company tonight. I wish you didn’t have to work. We could have gone out. Or even,” she said with a little smile, “found another party to go to. Since the last one was so successful.”

Ally groaned. “Skulking around in a wet sweater until Hannah realized what was up and insisted on our leaving early. I couldn’t have done a much better job of spoiling the party for all of us. Yeah, that worked. Anyway, you can’t spend money on me. You can’t afford that either.”

Kristen had got little enough, Ally knew, after the divorce, considering her ex-husband’s wealth. Had walked away without very much more than the wardrobe her rat bastard ex had bought to show off his trophy wife. Before he’d found a new trophy.

“And yeah, split shifts are the worst,” she said, changing the subject, knowing Kristen didn’t want to talk about money. Or the past. She took another sip of the large trim flat white that was going to get her through until nine, and then however long it took to close. “At least there’ll be an evening crowd. It’s always easier when it’s busy, although it won’t be as busy as it should be. I wish Mac’s outlook wasn’t quite so blokey. He doesn’t realize what he’s got there. A climbing gym should be a meat market on Friday night. A
healthy
meat market,” she added at Kristen’s startled look.

“Maybe you could suggest some things,” her friend offered.

“After two weeks . . . I don’t think that would go over too well,” Ally said wryly. “Probably not ever.”

“You have such good ideas, though,” Kristen said loyally. “It’s too bad you’re not running things.”

“Yeah,” Ally sighed. “But nobody’s clamoring to put me in charge.”

She glanced over as a young man leaned across from the next table. She’d noticed him as soon as she and Kristen had sat down. Dark, straight hair in a carelessly tousled style that had probably taken some effort to achieve, a startlingly handsome face over an open-necked white shirt and stylish slim-cut gray suit, he was the male equivalent of Kristen. Now, he spoke to them for the first time.

“Sorry,” he said. “Horribly rude of me to eavesdrop, I know. But do you work at Mac’s climbing gym, by any chance?”

“I do,” Ally said cautiously.

He smiled with satisfaction, revealing noticeably long canine teeth. Ooh, a vampire. And that’s exactly what he looked like. Suave and dark, a bit like a young George Clooney.

“I just had the most brilliant idea,” he said. “They don’t come along that often, so I have to grab them when I can. I’m a publicist for the Heat—the Wellington netball team,” he explained at her blank look. “And I was thinking, maybe there’s some way we can get the girls filmed doing some climbing. What d’you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Ally said at once. “Climbing always looks so impressive, even the easiest walls, if you’re not used to seeing people doing it. And it would be a great team-building activity, because you’re literally supporting your partner.”

“Good point. And, of course, they’d look dead sexy doing it,” he said with another of those wolfish smiles. “Men would watch that, I know. But what about women? As a woman, what would be your reaction if you saw a segment like that on TV?”

“I’d like it,” Ally said. “It’s a really empowering image for women. Overcoming obstacles. But I’ve been a climber for a long time, so I’m probably not the best judge. What do you think, Kristen?”

“I’d like it too,” Kristen decided. “It’s . . . powerful, like you say, but fun too. And I’m just a beginner, so I’m not prejudiced like Ally here.”

“Think your boss would be keen, if there were publicity for the gym in it for him?” the man asked Ally.

“Absolutely,” Ally said, her excitement growing. “Not just appealing to women, but showing men what women look like when they’re climbing. Fitness and sex appeal, like you said. It’d be a great marketing idea.” This would be the perfect way to get her ideas across without seeming pushy. If she brought Mac this opportunity, dropped it into his lap.

The man nodded his dark head in satisfaction, his smile reaching the bright blue eyes. “Let me work on the idea a bit, run it by the team,” he decided. “I’d like to pick your brain as well, if I could.”

He pulled out his wallet, extracted a white business card and handed it to Ally. “Devon O’Neill,” he said unnecessarily. “If you’ll give me your name and mobile number, we could talk some more, coordinate our approach so it works for both of us.”

Ally gave both to him, then introduced Kristen. To her gratification, Devon remained focused on her even after the introduction to her more beautiful friend. Maybe she actually had something that appealed to New Zealand men, she thought in surprise. First Nate, and now this guy. Although Devon was a long way more appealing.

And just like that, here Nate was, she realized with disgust. She just didn’t seem to be able to escape him. Walking behind his friend Liam into the café with a wary, closed expression that was at odds with Liam’s broad smile, all for Kristen. Who looked cautiously pleased herself to see him again. Unusual, for Kristen.

“What luck finding you in here,” Liam told Kristen after a brief hello to Ally. “I’ve been at the gym three times this week, missed you every time.”

“I’m working,” Kristen began to explain. But Ally had stopped listening, her attention caught by the silent drama playing out in front of her.