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She stuffed her clothes next to a rack of shiny leather shoes, then moved to the bathroom, swept Cameron’s toiletries out of sight beneath the vanity and arranged her own. Just in case…
And tomorrow morning her sister would be gone—Didi would see to it personally, even if it meant accompanying Veronica on her shopping spree and waving her off to the airport in a taxi.
At the cost of having something for Cameron to look at?
She shook the disturbing thought away. She’d roughed out a plan, hadn’t she? She’d bought supplies, put together a frame to work on. The sound of the elevator doors alerted her and she hurried from Cameron’s room, closing the door.
‘Hi.’ Didi gave Veronica a quick hug and took charge of her suitcase.
‘Hmm.’ Veronica’s eyes swept the apartment. ‘I never imagined this. It must cost you a fortune.’ She cast Didi an assessing glance. ‘How do you afford it?’
Aware of her tatty jeans and dishevelled hair, Didi noted the classic lines of her sister’s designer outfit, the pink suede boots, the perfect make-up and long dark hair salon-streaked with auburn highlights. Was it any wonder Veronica would ask that question? And why hadn’t she anticipated an answer?
‘Ah, the gallery owner was leasing it out at low cost since he’s interstate at present.’ Didi, who never lied, who hated deception, was getting in deeper with every passing moment. Spinning on her heel, she set the rolling case in motion. ‘Your room’s this way. I hope you don’t mind sharing it with a cat,’ she said over her shoulder.
‘Not at all. You know I love cats, but Daniel’s allergic, you know.’
She knew. Daniel Davenport was allergic to most things, including anyone remotely connected with poverty. Didi showed Veronica to her room, indicated the bathroom at her disposal, then left her to freshen up.
A few moments later, Veronica appeared, requesting a tour of the apartment. Didi whisked her through the rooms, then suggested they go out for lunch before hitting the shops.
Veronica spent a fortune; Didi helped her. Later they swapped childhood stories over a leisurely dinner. Even though she wasn’t a nightclub fan, Didi suggested they cruise to a couple of nightspots so that by the time they returned home it was well after one a.m.
Didi sighed a breath of relief when Veronica said she was exhausted and intended showering then going to bed. Didi happily agreed to do the same.
As she tiptoed into Cameron’s room her skin prickled with the feeling that he was somehow there with her, breathing down her neck. She closed the door behind her and, leaving the light off, wandered to the sliding door that looked out onto the balcony. Ferns shifted in the breeze. Turning, she took in the immaculate room. Shadows and light played over the walls. The sibilance of the air-conditioning overlaid the muted traffic noise.
Even though none of his personal items were visible, his presence lingered. The room smelled of him. How could she possibly get any sleep in here? she wondered, gazing back at the twinkling streetscape below.
A hot shower might help. She stripped off her clothes, tossed them on the bottom of the bed and padded across the carpet in the semi-darkness.
Light flooded the bathroom as she flicked on the switch. She startled at her own reflection, then chastised herself for being foolish. ‘Your secret’s safe,’ she whispered. Why was she whispering, for goodness’ sake? ‘He’s hundreds of kilometres away,’ she said out loud to convince herself. ‘Only a few more hours and he’ll never know.’
She turned on the spray, smothered her face in cleanser, massaging it in until the room began to steam, then stepped under the water’s glorious heat.
She’d left her personal soap in the other bathroom. Which meant she had to use Cameron’s soap. The one she’d smelled on him last night. As she lathered up and rubbed the slippery suds over her arms and breasts her nipples turned to tight little peaks, blood rising to the surface and turning her skin a blushing pink, reminding her of how he’d made her feel last night.
Hot. Turned on. Every body part excruciatingly sensitive.
She reached for her exfoliating mitt, scrubbed her skin with unnecessary vigour, hoping the harsh abrasive action would relieve the discomfort. No. It merely deepened the blush in places, which gave the appearance of sunburned patchwork.
She yanked off the mitt. This was bad. Worse, this inappropriate preoccupation with Cameron Black had to stop. Right now. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the cool tiles, lifted her head to the spray and let the water pound her. One more minute…
Cameron frequently employed the element of surprise. He keyed in his entry code and watched the floor numbers illuminate as he rode the elevator towards his apartment. Expect the unexpected—it kept employees on their toes.
