The CEO(6)

‘Oh,’ Ava waved a hand in the air to dismiss him. ‘You know what I mean. Not that I approve of the leather seats anyway. What a terrible thing to do to an animal just so you can plant your butt on something comfortable.’

Oh no. She’d mentioned his butt. She slowly closed her eyes to hide the mortification.

‘I’m not concerned about my car seats.’

She didn’t want to hear the humour in his voice because it made him even more attractive. ‘Are you serious? You’ll never get the watermarks out of that leather. It’ll cost a fortune. Not that you probably care about anything costing a fortune, I’m sure, but it’s a waste and it’s not good for the environment and—’

When Callum whipped off his suit jacket, Ava stopped running off at the mouth. And that was good. Very good. Because she’d already mentioned his delectable ass and had also managed to insult him for being rich. That mask of hers was well and truly still firmly attached to her face.

He lay the jacket, lining side down, on the seat rather like a gallant gentleman in historical fiction covering a puddle. Which was kind of appropriate because she was kind of melting into one.

‘Happy?’ Callum was close now, almost jammed up beside her between the open door and the car, and he was wet, too. There was a thick strip of damp down the front of his shirt where his jacket hadn’t kept him dry, and the white cotton clung to him. The mother of pearl buttons shimmered and caught Ava’s eye, which meant she was staring at his chest. Not that she needed the wet shirt competition to know there were corrugations there. She already knew damn well they were there, but looked anyway. What the hell? She could make it look like disdain if she really tried. She curled a lip to make sure.

‘I was only thinking about … oh never mind.’ And when the sound of the rain beating down on the roof of Callum’s fancy car almost wasn’t loud enough to camouflage the sound of her pounding heart, Ava dipped her head and slipped into the passenger seat before anything else slipped out of her mouth.

Callum got in and started the engine, which purred as they pulled away from the gutter. Ava gave him quick directions to her flat before pulling her lips tight and not saying another word as they drove towards Bondi on the wet and slick Sydney streets.

‘So,’ he finally said as they waited at a set of traffic lights, flicking a glance in her direction. ‘How have you been, Ava?’

‘Fine.’ She looked at the dashboard, her feet, out her window.

‘How’s life treating you?’

‘Well.’

‘It’s been a while since we’ve caught up.’

‘Yes, it has.’ She could probably count the days if she had to, not that she’d tell him that. She continued staring through her window out at the soggy street and wet pedestrians.

‘I see you’re still in that little place in—’

‘Yes.’ She wasn’t embarrassed one jot about her small flat, but she sensed he’d been on the verge of calling it ‘cute’ and that would be infuriating.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him shift in his seat, angle his body towards her. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen you since Lulu’s birthday party last year.’

She was more than surprised he’d even mentioned it, given what had happened that night. Ava had organised the whole thing for Lulu’s thirtieth birthday and had booked months in advance at one of Sydney’s hippest restaurants, an establishment so hip it didn’t take bookings, but had managed the impossible because the chef was a client of hers. She’d designed his garden and he’d repaid her not only by paying on time but by allowing a one-off exemption from the no-reservation rule. Lulu had been talking about the place for months and Ava was thrilled she’d been able to pull off such a surprise. The look on Lulu’s face when she’d arrived said everything. The service was exquisite, the food was divine. In fact, the whole evening was well on its way to being an utter triumph until Lulu had dissolved into tears and sad drinking after a phone call from Callum.

‘Yes,’ Ava replied. ‘I remember it well. You turned up three hours late and totally ruined Lulu’s birthday.’

She ventured a look. The humour had disappeared from his face and his mouth was arrogantly fixed in a look that said, Don’t push it.

‘That couldn’t be helped.’

‘Really?’

That night had been the official beginning of the end for her sister and Callum. Instead of going home that night with him to their luxurious apartment at Lavender Bay, situated right on Sydney Harbour with exquisite views of the Bridge, she’d crashed on Ava’s sofa in Bondi. She’d said nothing, just cried and cried into the night. And the next day, she’d left him.