She picked up her phone and typed a reply. Almost finished.
‘And that’s what we should be, Callum Malone,’ she told herself. ‘Almost finished.’
She tossed the phone on the end of her bed and closed her book. When her phone trilled to life, she almost jumped out of her skin.
Chapter Fourteen
‡
Callum’s name was on her phone’s screen and all she could think about was that kiss.
The kiss that had buckled her legs and melted her from the inside out; that had set parts of her throbbing that hadn’t throbbed in a good goddamn long time.
The kiss they should never have let happen. But they’d let themselves go there, into that forbidden place, and now it wasn’t lust that she felt when she thought of him. It was guilt and shame and a thousand emotions, none of which were good. But whatever personal emotions were thrashing around inside her, he was, at the end of the day, her client and she couldn’t ignore that call. She just couldn’t.
She let it ring six times before answering it. ‘Hi Callum.’ She attempted to sound businesslike and professional, cool and calm.
There was a slight, echoey delay as the call connected. ‘Hi, Ava.’
How could two words sound so sexy? How was it that they reached right inside her and set her quivering? How could two little old words hold such promise? Because surely, Callum wasn’t really calling to ask about his garden, was he? Please let him be calling about his garden.
‘How are you?’ Predictable. Perfunctory. Polite. Keep it up, she urged herself. Don’t let him hear it.
‘Good.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’m good.’
There was a long pause. She couldn’t hear a thing except for his breathing and then a deep chuckle.
‘So, here I am in Singapore,’ Callum started, ‘Sixty floors above the city in a fantastic hotel.’
‘Did you say sixty?’
‘Yeah. The views are spectacular. The whole city’s lit up.’
‘Holy crap,’ Ava shuddered. ‘I can’t look at the top of the Harbour Bridge without feeling queasy. And to think people willingly climb up there? At night? I feel sick just thinking about it.’
Another pause. She wasn’t sure where the conversation was going. She was still too shaken from their last encounter to feel relaxed enough to tease him or joke with him. They’d turned a corner. Things were different now. She knew it and, judging by the conversational detours Callum was taking, he knew it, too. If felt to her as if they were on the edge of a cliff, still deciding whether to hold hands and jump.
‘I thought you might be out,’ he said after a moment.
Ava sucked in a deep breath and found a lie. ‘I usually am on a Friday, but I’ve had a crazy busy day at the site and I’ve kind of crashed early. I’m just catching up on some trashy TV before I go to bed.’ She looked around her bedroom in the dim light from her bedside lamp. There was an old wardrobe. A chest of drawers. A wicker basket that held all her dirty work clothes. On the walls were framed prints that she liked and there was a worn and extremely fake Persian rug on the floor. But there was no television. She knew it sounded more than lame for a thirty-something woman in Sydney to already be in bed with a book on a Friday night.
‘Yeah, I’m about to do the same.’
‘I hope you raid the mini-bar first,’ she said. ‘I love mini-bars. All those tiny chocolate bars and mini champagnes.’
Callum laughed and in her mind’s eye she could see him standing there in his dark suit, the phone pressed to his ear, looking out through floor-to-ceiling windows to the night sky, skyscrapers lit up all around.
‘Room service is so much better,’ he said. ‘The bottles of champagne are much bigger.’
‘I can imagine,’ Ava said. ‘I’ve never stayed in a fancy hotel. What’s it like?’ She slid down her pillows into the worn sheets and pulled her soft quilt up to her neck.
‘Expensive. Huge. Empty.’
She realised he hadn’t called her to talk about his garden. He wanted to talk to her, and the thrilling realisation was almost more than she could bear.
‘Oh,’ she whispered.
‘Shit, Ava. I’ve had a hell of a week.’ He sounded wrecked, his voice ragged. He was hurting and it hurt her, too.
‘What’s happened, Callum?’
‘What’s happened to me?’ He swore under his breath. ‘You happened to me, Ava.’
‘Callum …’ she sighed.
‘You know what I mean. I want you. Fuck, it’s more than that. I need you.’ His voice was hushed and deep and it slid through Ava like a hot knife through butter. She sank a little lower.