Coming Attractions (21 page)

The reviews were rave. The film was tagged to break
all records, securing Cara’s future as a screenwriter. Indeed, the phone was
ringing when she returned to her apartment and continued to trill even now, two
weeks later, bringing a torrent of offers. Like a lovesick teenage fan, she had
greedily gobbled up everything the media had to say about the film, especially
whenever Levi was mentioned.

Most interesting had been the piece that had
appeared in
Forbes
, which made
mention of the film’s success, but focused primarily on Levi’s latest business
deal. His spokesperson, former personal assistant and business partner, Candy
Evans, confirmed that Levi had sold his startup business, AdVisor, to a search
engine giant for an undisclosed sum. The concept was touted as simple but
ingenious.

“Levi sank some money into a
project to build a motorcycle helmet display, like Google glass, that brings up
relevant, real-time data onto the edge of riders’ helmet visors. The idea is
that you can get GPS maps and directions, weather, and riding stats, such as
speed and distance, right on your eyeshade. More importantly, it can plug into
government and commercial networks and post warnings about potential hazards—like,
say, roadwork.”

Cara paused in her reading, not missing the significance
of his own experience.

“The prototype has been picked up
by a major international player. He jokes that he’s now in the position to buy
a small country.”

Cara’s
mind swung back to the night he received the three a.m. phone call—“
Took the bait…guarantee…recommend you…”

Maybe
he hadn’t cashed in on the sapphire. After all, he had been packed and ready to
fly to Bronte’s side before they had talked about possibly having found the
jewel. Maybe he had funded Bronte’s operation with the proceeds of AdVisor’s sale.
Maybe his behavior hadn’t been sinister and underhanded. Maybe she had gotten
it wrong.

But
why had he gone cold on her? Why had he been so rude and brusque? Why had he
almost completely turned his back on her since the day he flew to Bronte’s
side?

She
needed to know. But how to find out?

“Call
him,” Mia urged when Cara sheepishly confessed her rationale.

But she couldn’t bring
herself to do it. Besides, she didn’t have his cell phone number.
Funny that they had become
so intimate so quickly and yet she didn’t know these prosaic day-to-day
details. Where did he even live? Did he read the papers? Did he prefer mild or
hot curry? Did he donate to charity?

Who are you kidding, cowgirl? You could snavel his cell number in
a heartbeat.

But Cara
was miserable, gridlocked by fear, embarrassment, totally unsure what to do
next, and equally bothered by the nothing she was doing.

****

It was
peculiar crossing the isthmus in the Subaru wagon instead of on the Duke, but her
late afternoon mission required four wheels, not two. It was strange owning a
car. In fact, pretty much her whole lifestyle seemed bizarre and unfamiliar to
her since she’d recovered from the revelations of the release of
Lost Treasure.

For
instance, she’d just left the Ocean Ridge real estate office where she’d
outlined the specifications of the type of house she’d like to buy. She’d asked
for a family home somewhere close to Mia’s place, maybe a renovator, with a
garden. One day, she would fill it with the smell of baking, the laughter of
children, and the feel of home.

Cruising
up the driveway to the house, she was relieved to find the turning circle
empty. She opened the hatchback and withdrew a cat box, the price tag still
attached. She was about to close the hatch when she paused and reached for the
cashmere turtleneck she had stashed there in case the weather turned and she
spread it on the floor of the carrier.

When
she reached the veranda, she found the door locked and the key no longer
beneath the window sill. Disheartened but not discouraged, and almost as if she
were pulled by a cord, she walked around the mansion to the back kitchen door.
Providence.
Not locked.

Everything
was stripped bare, empty. A couple of cardboard boxes sat on the counter. She
picked up Mia’s mended Smurfette mug, turned it in her hands, and placed it
back in the carton. She looked down at the back door where the sapphire had
always stood—a fortune disguised as a doorstop.

It wasn’t
there.

Had it
been packed up into one of the cartons? Had it been discarded as rubbish? How
crazy would that be? Millions of dollars ditched at the rubbish dump. She
almost laughed. It really wasn’t her concern. She had no use for it. There was
only one thing she truly needed and he was—

Unexpectedly,
she heard the roar of a bike coming up the driveway. Her seasoned ears picked
out the throaty roar of a thousand plus ccs of Aprilia. She threaded her way
back to the front door and let herself out onto the veranda to watch the black
motorcycle curl around the turning circle and pull up.

She
knew who the rider was, of course, even with the body armor and the tinted
helmet. She knew the tilt of his head, the curve of his leg, the position of
his hips, the arc of his arm. She would know him anywhere.

He
killed the engine and slid the helmet off.

Dirty
blond hair, dazzling gray-green eyes, sensual lips. Levi looked mouth-watering
in leather.

He
dismounted and walked toward her—not slowly, not quickly, just surely and
steadily.

“You
look good,” she told him, her voice cracking mid-phrase. It was the
understatement of the century. Black leather was made for him. “You’re riding
again?”

“Exposure
therapy seemed to do the trick. I’m back in the saddle.”

The
conversation they were having on the surface had nothing to do with the other
dialogue taking place—the one between their eyes, body language, unspoken
emotions, and palpable lust.

“How’s
Bronte?”

“She’s
well. She’s made a full recovery. She can’t wait to get back on a bike, believe
it or not.”

“I
believe it. They are kind of addictive.”

“You’re
kind of addictive.”

She
sucked in a breath, suddenly turned on and afraid all at once. She couldn’t
find her voice, hoped her eyes were telegraphing her fear and desire.

“I’m
serious, Cara. I need you like a junkie needs a hit. I am miserable without
you. I want us to be together. To build a life together.”

His
words were almost too much for her to take in. She didn’t know what to say,
what to do. Still, she couldn’t find her voice. She could hardly believe he was
here, that they were having a conversation, let alone this one that she’d
longed for, the love and forever discussion.

“I’ve
cleared out the house,” he told her. “We could live here. Make it our home
base. Raise our family here. We’d be close to Mia and Joe and the kids. We
could work out of the house some of the time… Say something, Cara, for God’s
sake.”

“You’ve
planned it all out.” Her words were a mere skerrick of sound and trailed off
into a cloud of astonishment and wonder.

“I’ve
had a lot of time to plan and dream and hope. But it’s all for nothing if you’re
not in it with me. Please say this isn’t a lost cause.”

She
smiled at him then.

Children…a
family… He wanted all that. With her. She would need to tell him, of course,
about the baby she had lost, about her fears, about the commitment-phobia that
made even a deep and meaningful relationship with a begonia tricky.

She
glanced down at the cat carrier.

She
could also tell him he had changed her, that he had taught her to love, taught
her to trust… She could show him she was taking baby steps every single day to
be the best Cara she could be.

And,
in any case, he had his own scars, his own reservations, quirks, and failings.
He would understand. And he would be right by her side to pick her up when she
fell, to growl when she put herself in danger, to cheer when she bravely faced
the future.

Under
the spell of his words, the crippling hurt his abrupt departure had caused her
almost faded away into the background—but only almost. Some sense of
self-preservation welled up inside her. It roared, reminding her of the pain he
could wreak and demanding reassurance that he would not inflict it again.

“I
need to understand what happened. Why did you turn on me? Why did you just walk
away and never look back? And what’s changed?”

She
was pleased with the steadiness of her voice, the soundness of her question.
She hoped he didn’t notice her hands trembling.

His
words came out in a rush. “Oh, Cara, I’m making a balls up of this whole
reconciliation thing. Since I learned you were heading out to Flinders’ Keep
tonight, I haven’t been able to think straight. I’d been considering calling
you, but it didn’t seem like a phone thing. Besides, I didn’t know what to say.
I didn’t think you could ever forgive me. But when Belle said you’d be here, it
was like my heart flipped out and overrode my brain. I had to see you. I just
switched off my doubts, fired up my bike, and came straight away. I didn’t plan
out pretty words to say. I didn’t rehearse a speech. I clearly didn’t even get
my thoughts in order—”

“Just
say it, Levi.”

“I’m
so sorry, Cara. I’ve been a fool. Please forgive me.”

“Forgive
you for…?”

“The
thing is, the day we went to pick up the motorcycle, the day before I left, I
saw you putting that crown thing—”

“The tiara?”

“Right…in
your handbag. I thought maybe it was something Belle had given you. I found it
odd, but I didn’t think much of it until that last night in my trailer when you
made some passing comment about your mother’s treasure right before I fell
asleep.”

“I may
have said something. I don’t recall…” She faltered.

“Something
about looking like I’d found your mom’s treasure. Anyway,” he admitted, “my
sleeping brain put the crown and the comment together and woke up with greed.”

Cara
was perplexed, not really understanding his confession. “I’m sorry?”

“I
thought you had found the treasure in the form of the tiara and you had taken
it for yourself. I thought that all along you had just been using me for your
own ends, not the least of which was to find and keep the jewel.”

His
words burned. Did he really have so little faith in her? “Like mother like
daughter? Was that it? The apple never falls far from the tree and all that?”

“Cara,
I’m so sorry…”

“At
the slightest provocation, you jumped to the conclusion that I was a gold
digger. You thought I would withhold a fortune when that money could save
someone you loved.”

“It
sounds ludicrous when you put it like that. I was wrong, Cara. In the worst way.”

“You
decided I was some sort of heartless, exploitative bloodsucker…”

“Let’s
not be melodramatic.”

“Harsh,
Levi.”

But
now that his thought process had resolved itself to her, Cara didn’t know
whether to be deeply offended and smack him or to laugh—so outrageous was his
conclusion. Clearly he realized he had been wrong about her and he obviously
felt bad about it. Hadn’t she just acknowledged to herself that they each had
their own quirks and failings? Could she really punish him for being human?

Laughing
didn’t quite win, but Cara could barely hide her smile. “If I was just after
the treasure and I had possession of it, why would I have still been sleeping
with you?”

“Well,
I’m told I’m not too bad in the sack…”

She
rolled her eyes.

“Kidding!
I decided you still needed the film to happen. You were keeping me sweet, so
I’d finish the movie for your professional kudos and your personal curiosity.”

He
paused and took a long breath. He looked her—gray eyes met blue. He reached out
and placed his hands on her upper arms, gently holding her as though he was
afraid she might turn away.

“I’m
so sorry, Cara. It was a crazy day. I’d just got the call about the AdVisor
sale and then a few minutes later, you slept through an update about Bronte’s
condition getting worse. I was brain-fried and frazzled. I connected all the
wrong dots and I jumped to the worst possible conclusion. But there’s really no
excuse. I know that you would never do something like that. I know that’s not
who you are. In fact, deep down, I think I wasn’t convinced that someone so
wonderful could really, truly want to be with me.”

Her
smile stretched wider then. “I guess when you see an heiress who’s been looking
for a missing jewel try and secretly stuff a tiara in her tote, you might get a
little suspicious,” she conceded.

He met
her smile and, in that moment, she believed that, over time, they could iron
out the wrinkles and get their own story straight. And there was plenty of
time.

As night fell and stars
quilted the sky, Cara knew deep down that theirs was
an epic
one-in-a-hundred-million Paris and Helena kind of love.
She and Levi were meant for each other. Whatever came their way,
whatever they created, it could only be better if they were together. They were
synergetic. Electric. Hypnotic.