Page 14 of Obsession Under the Southern Stars

But he didn’t look awkward or cross, and his easygoing, nonchalant manner immediately disarmed us all.

I think about how he ruffled Rory’s hair with tender affection, recognizing the boy’s pain. He’s such an enigma. He seems like a true guy so much of the time—only interested in work, beer, food, and sex—but I’ve seen what he’s like with Elora, how he’s looked after her, and he obviously has layers that intrigue me.

I hug the pillow, thinking about Charles. The wounds from that relationship are still fresh and raw. He broke my heart, andhis callous treatment of me when I opened my heart to him isn’t going to dissipate anytime soon.

I loved Charles, or thought I did anyway—sometimes I wonder whether I was in love with the idea of him, rather than with the man himself. The reason I think that is because the way I feel about Joel is different from how I felt about Charles. Joel and I are friends, and the thought of being with him inthatway gives me a funny feeling in my stomach that I never really had with Charles.

But how would it feel if I opened up to Joel, and he treated me the same way? If he took my fragile heart and stomped all over it?

My stomach flips uneasily. I’m not prepared to take that risk. Joel will have to stay in his friends box, and I don’t care how much he complains about it.

*

At 5:25 p.m., I collect my purse, go out of the front door, and make sure it’s closed behind me. A little nervously, I lean on the railing while I wait for Joel. I’ve had a shower and washed my hair, and I’ve blow-dried my bob under at the ends, carefully applied my makeup, and slotted in my hooped earrings. I’m wearing the cinnamon-colored dress and my sandals. Even though I’m not trying to tailor my appearance to attract Joel, I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t want him to think I looked nice.

I’m a little nervous, too, about the awards dinner. I don’t know many people in the industry, and it’s going to be a long evening if we’re just sitting there listening to the conversation and clapping politely when some stranger goes up to get their award. I have no idea what Joel is going to be like. It’s true that at the museum opening he helped Fraser by welcoming guests and showing people around, but from memory he’d worn chinos and a white shirt he’d taken straight out of the packet, still withcreases where it had been folded, and his hair was exactly the same as usual—all over the place. So I’m expecting the same tonight.

I hear his door opening behind me, and I turn around. He comes out and closes the door behind him, then sees me and stops walking.

We stare at each other for about twenty seconds.

He’s wearing a black jacket with what looks like silk lapels—a real dinner jacket or tux. He’s also wearing a black waistcoat, a white shirt, and a black bow tie. His trousers have black silk braid down the side seams. His black shoes are polished, and the breast pocket contains a neat white pocket square.

He’s clean shaven, his jaw so smooth that my fingers itch to touch it. And he’s styled his hair. He’s smoothed down the wild, scruffy strands with some kind of product, and he looks… Oh my God… fucking magnificent.

“Jesus,” he says. “Zoe, you look incredible.”

I glance down at myself. I’d forgotten I was wearing the dress. I’m only a B cup, and my figure is far from hourglass, but the simple, elegant cut of the dress suits me. I look back up at him. His eyes are filled with heat.

He walks toward me and stands in front of me. Even though I’m wearing heels, he’s still inches taller than me.

My heart bangs on my ribs at the look in his eyes. “You look passable, I guess,” I say.

His lips curve up. “You ready to go?”

I nod, and he offers me his elbow. I slide my hand into it, and we head out.

I’m not supposed to be going as his date. I’m just here as a friend, or maybe a business companion. But I can’t help but feel a secret thrill as women’s heads turn when we pass. They think we’re a couple. And there are worse things than being matched with a gorgeous guy like Joel.

Chapter Four

Joel

We take a taxi to the center of Paihia and make our way to the pier, where a boat is waiting for us and a few others.

“Oh, we’re actually going to the ship?” Zoe asks.

“Yeah, the awards dinner is on board, in their main restaurant.”

Her eyes flare—she’s excited about that. I suppose there aren’t many people of our age who have been on a cruise ship.

The tender taking us there is small with a comfortable bench running around the inside of the cabin. We and the other eight passengers, who are also dressed to the nines, take our seats, and then the small crew casts off, and the boat heads out toward the ship.

It’s a beautiful evening, the low sun turning the sky and the sea a lighter version of the color of Zoe’s dress. My gaze slides to where she’s sitting, looking out of the window at the fishing boats heading for shore. She’s in profile, lost in thought, so I’m able to take a moment to study her.

She looks amazing this evening. She’s obviously showered, and her hair looks freshly washed, with a beautiful shine. The dress with its spaghetti straps leaves her shoulders and arms bare, and her skin is light brown and looks silky smooth. She has a mole on her collarbone, a few inches down from her throat, and a few more on her arms that make me want to kiss them. I’ve always thought her hands are attractive, with long fingers, their neat nails painted in a neutral but shimmering shade. A single ring sits on her right hand, on the middle finger; a gold ring in the shape of a bow set with tiny diamonds. I hope Charles didn’t buy that for her.

Her makeup, as always, is immaculate, and she’s reapplied her black eyeliner, drawing it up into wings as usual, but she’s topped it with a glittering eyeshadow that’s a lighter shade than her dress, blended perfectly. Although her lips are usually free of lipstick, tonight she’s wearing a darker shade of cinnamon that gives her a sultry glow.

---