The Candidate (2 page)

‘Fuck off, Mac. You’ve gone too far.’ She wrenched her arm free and pushed her way toward the toilets.

Mac swore to himself and finished his beer. He was making more of a mess of this than he’d thought possible.

‘Strike two, I believe.’ Jake raised an eyebrow at Mac. ‘Another round?’

Mac nodded.

‘Sorry. Again,’ he said when Ginny eventually returned. ‘I thought you’d done a runner.’

‘I was tempted.’ She scowled, then smiled. ‘It’s your last night, Mac. Can we not spend it arguing? I appreciate you’re only looking out for me but as I said before: it’s my life.’

‘I care about you, Ginn. That’s all.’ He swallowed, sensing an edge he could step over. ‘Look, there’s something I need to say …’

‘No.’ She raised her hand. ‘Enough, Mac. Apology accepted. Can we just get on with getting pissed and having a laugh?’

He hesitated. ‘Sure. Whatever you like.’

The tension between them dissipated as they kept drinking, aided and abetted by the ever-watchful Jake. The easy, uncomplicated banter of old friends returned as around them, Saturday night picked up. The noise and heat grew in equal measure. Everyone was out for a good night.

Slugging back another shot, Mac winced. He had drunk far too much. Next time Jake was in shouting distance, he ordered a couple of waters.

‘Piker.’ Ginny grinned, but seemed grateful when the water arrived. ‘I fully intend delivering you to the New Zealand Army feeling like shit.’

He laughed. ‘No fear, Ginny — I knew you’d be nothing if not merciless.’

Ginny looked away, still smiling, but when she faced him again he could see the uncertainty on her face. ‘You know I’ll miss you, right? It goes without saying.’

He nodded. ‘I’ll miss you too, Ginn.’

‘When will you be back?’

Mac kept his eyes on her, saw her: drunk and shining. Brilliant, beautiful. ‘Not sure.’ He’d spun a decent line about that one. Of course, he’d be back at some stage, and then he’d be up for a beer, a flat white, no worries. In reality, if he was accepted into NZSAS, he’d all but disappear. Seeing Jake look over at Ginny, he wondered why on earth he was even contemplating leaving her.

‘Want another drink?’

‘No — I’ve had enough. What I want, cowboy, is to dance. Come on.’ Shoving her phone into her back pocket, Ginny grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet.

‘We’ll lose our seats, Ginn.’

‘No worries, Mac. Let’s have a boogie and see where we end up.’

He glanced down at their joined hands, her fingers linked through his as she led him towards the small dance floor. He ran his sight up the smooth length of her arm, the slim shoulders and long, elegant curve of her back. The low-hung jeans provided glimpses of her waist, and her long legs, made longer by the heels, gave her hips and everything south a slight roll as she walked. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He’d had too much to drink, but he knew there was no way in hell he was brave enough to make a crack without a few under his belt.

Dancing with her was an exercise in self-control. The heels put them as close to eye level as they were going to get and as she twisted and shimmied, raising her arms above her head, the fast, raw music and the heat she was building in him made a double-beating pulse pound behind his eyes.

Someone bumped Ginny from behind. She crashed into him and their bodies meshed. Before she could move away, before he could think it through, Mac caught her hands where they’d landed on his chest and pulled them up around his neck. With one hand he secured her wrists there while he wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her to him. She blinked, surprised. Then, as if sensing a game she knew how to play well, Ginny smiled and let him set the pace, the rhythm, and they danced.

Without a doubt, it was getting harder and harder to breathe. Mac was aware only of Ginny, pressed up against him. Her eyes, mouth, body ….. knocking into his and sending shockwaves through him. Leaning in, he caught the scent of her perfume. Faint, but for him like a punch in the gut.

Mac stopped the dance. He let go of her hands, not wanting to hold her where she didn’t want to be. He looked at her. Still smiling, but something else was in her eyes. A wariness, an awareness of moving towards something she couldn’t quite make out. Slowly, carefully, he ran his hand along her arm, down her side, hesitated at her waist, and then drew a finger over the exposed touch of flesh before gently, subtly, pulling her into him.

Surely she could see it now, Mac thought. Surely it was all over his face. It was now or never. Now or fucking never. Eyes never leaving hers, he moved closer still, then raised his hands to cup her face. She dropped her arms to her sides and opened her mouth, as if to speak.

‘Shhh, Ginny. Please.’ It was a whisper, and certainly would have been lost in the noise that surrounded them.

The final moment before he crossed the line, Mac paused, wanting to imprint it on his memory. The feel of her body against his, the way the music and his pulse beat faster and faster, out of control. Her skin, soft and warm under his hands, and those eyes, big and deep and dark, watching him, waiting. That edible mouth and the proud tilt of her face. The years of friendship. It was all there, captured in front of him. Breathing her in, he lowered his head and moved his mouth over hers, kissing her. Pulling back, he grazed his teeth over the pout of her bottom lip and he felt her tremble.

Mac could see she was unsettled, maybe even a little scared. But he had her curious. Keeping his eyes fixed on hers, Mac ran a thumb down the side of her face, skated it over her mouth before kissing her again, softly at first, savouring the taste and feel of her, but the want in him built quickly and the kiss became rougher, more demanding. He couldn’t hold back, Mac realised, so he didn’t try.

As his unshaven skin bit into hers, Ginny’s hands shot up, fisting them in his hair. She tugged him closer and, as if ruled by instinct, angled herself against the lines of his body. Overwhelmed, feeling scorched, he kissed her harder, and she seemed to feel it too because she kissed him back with as much force, as much heat.

Awed, amazed at her response, Mac grabbed her from behind as he deepened the kiss still further. And so was perfectly placed when her phone buzzed in her pocket, under his hand.

Game over, he thought.

Pulling back, her mouth swollen from his kiss, confusion and accusation were on her face, and in her voice when she spoke.

‘What the fuck was that, Mac?’ She took a step away from him and pulled out her phone.

Cursing text messaging specifically and the communication age in general, he reached for her. She fumbled slightly with her phone, bringing it up to read the screen, successfully shielding herself from his outstretched hands.

‘Shit, Ginn. The last time I checked that was a kiss.’ Mac took her elbow, propelling her away from the band toward a quieter alcove. ‘One you definitely seemed party to, if you don’t mind me saying.’ He tried to catch her eye but her gaze was fixed on her phone as she typed.

‘Ginny, please — stop that. Look at me.’ She hit send and pushed the phone back into her pocket.

‘Since when were we friends with benefits?’ she demanded.

‘Ginny, I — I tried to tell you. I don’t know where this came from but it’s here. I couldn’t leave without telling you how I felt.’

‘You didn’t tell me anything, Mac. You stuck your tongue down my throat.’

‘Ginny, please,’ he hesitated. ‘It’s changed for me.’

She looked at him sharply and he realised he’d made a mistake; it didn’t sound right. Talk fast, Mac, he told himself.

‘What I mean, you’re still my mate, but … it’s just … I want more.’

Ginny took a step back. ‘“More”? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Why don’t you just tell me how it really is, Mac? You want to get down my pants? Great — well, thanks for that. But you can fuck right off.’ She pushed past him, making for the exit.

‘Ginny, wait.’ Mac grabbed her arm. ‘That’s not how it is, it’s not that … basic.’

‘Oh, stop it.’ She shrugged him off. ‘That’s what it always comes down to. I just can’t believe you thought if you got me drunk enough …’

‘Got you drunk enough, you’ve got to be kidding …’

Ignoring him, she ploughed on. ‘I can’t believe you expect me to happily slide into your bed after a few drinks for your final shag before you leave town. I’m not one of your pieces of fucking fluff, Mac. I thought we were friends.’

He reached for her, wanting to calm her. She’d got it so wrong.

‘Ginny …’

She turned and walked away. Mac stood dumbfounded, watching her go. He could still taste her, feel her.

‘Fuck it.’ Pushing through the crowd, he went after her.

‘Ginny!’ He caught her as she went through the door. This close to the band again he could hardly hear himself speak. ‘Please hear me out. I just couldn’t find the words,’ or the courage, he thought, moving her onto the landing so he wouldn’t have to shout. ‘Jesus — look at you. You’re so bloody gorgeous you make my head spin. I can’t think straight around you, let alone tell you that I’m half in love with you.’ Liar, he thought. Nothing ‘half’ about it. That kiss had signed, sealed and delivered him. ‘I reckon we’ve got something here — can’t we just see what happens?’

Ginny swallowed hard, and he knew he’d said too much. Instead of convincing her of what he felt, he’d only managed to steamroll her.

‘It wouldn’t work, Mac. That’s not who we are. And anyway, I’d make a crap soldier’s girlfriend. I couldn’t do the hanging around, waiting for you to get back from … wherever. And you know I’d never live on some base somewhere.’

‘Well, I’ll stay then, Ginny. Just say the word. If you need some time to get your head around it, I’ll give you as long as you need. I’ll sign up with Dad, go down that track.’ He hated himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but he meant it. Tragic though it may be to give up the dream of NZSAS before he had even reached for it, he knew he would if she asked him to.

Ginny’s eyes widened as he spoke. ‘No! I said no.’ She cut her hands out in front of her. She paused, and he held her gaze, letting her speak. When she did, her tone was gentler. ‘You don’t really want this, Mac. You want the army — you always have — and I won’t let you not do that. Put this down to a moment of drunken madness on your last night of freedom, and so will I.’

He looked away, not knowing what else he could say.

Ginny blew out a breath. ‘I’ve got to go. That was Miles — um — on my phone …’ She gestured to the stairs leading down. ‘He wants to see me. He says he told his wife. He’s left her.’ She looked up at him briefly. ‘Give me a call when you’re next in town. Okay?’

Mac nodded. ‘Sure.’

He watched her go, let her go. There weren’t many more ways she could say no.

‘Strike three, mate. You’re definitely out.’ Jake joined him on the landing, a couple of empty glasses in his hand.

Mac glared at him. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with picking his ruined heart up off the floor, he would have punched him.

By mid-morning the next day Mac was standing on the deck of the bach, looking out over Gibson’s Bay. The haphazard terraces of the garden led down to a short strip of grass and a narrow road that separated his property from the beach. The sweep of sand was a perfect crescent. Although a few other places were dotted along the road, his was the only one on the small ridge above the bay. It gave him a great view.

Just a short drive from Coromandel Township, his mum had inherited the place from a maiden aunt — the last in a short line of unsuccessful farmers. As their fortunes steadily decreased, they’d sold parcels of land to the first wave of holiday home seekers in the ’60s, but Mac’s great-aunt discovered a hitherto unknown streak of conservation and tied up the remainder. It wasn’t much: scrubby bush slowly reclaiming poor farmland, but it ran the length of the bay into native bush at either end and up into the low hills behind. People had forgotten who actually owned the land, and expected every summer to be the last before developers arrived, or some fool built a holiday park.

Mac supposed that he’d be able to find a way through the legal protection his great-aunt had wrapped around the place, but why would he do that? He certainly wasn’t going to be the one to change Gibson’s Bay.

The house — bach — was another matter. He hadn’t used it much since it became his. A couple of weeks here and there each summer with his mates, a memorable few nights with a lady friend a year or so back, the odd boys’ weekend, and one horrid but necessary week of intensive study halfway through his degree to assuage the threat of having to repeat a year.

Once a small farm cottage with the kitchen and bathroom at the back, its living area had been extended to include a sunroom, and a deck tacked on along the front. A small bedroom that had probably once been a walk-in larder still contained the bunks Mac remembered as a kid.

He liked it beaten up and shabby. But ideas had started running through his head the last year or so — a long list of improvements. It would need time though, and money, of course. And more focus than he could currently give it.

Yesterday’s heat and brilliant blue sky had given way to dense grey cloud; the air was close and warm. Out in the water a couple of kids had escaped the humidity with a swim. Well, he thought, for better or worse, he had his answer. There was only one path now and he was going to concentrate everything on it.

He thought of Ginny. He replayed last night, felt her body against his, tasted her on his lips. He closed his eyes, pictured her. Gorgeous, vital, frustrating, kind … but not his. He unclenched his fists and saw in his mind — briefly — how their fingers had threaded together. He let his feelings rush through him, almost drown him. He stood there, recounting, reliving. Then he pulled them back. Pulled back all that heat, that want, all that love. Wound it in, smaller and smaller, until it was just a kernel, and placed it carefully yet securely away in the deepest part of his heart.

He turned his thoughts to what lay ahead. He was physically fit, strong enough for what he was going to have to do. The time here was perfect for finishing the long and focused campaign to get his body into peak condition. The real challenge was whether he had the mental strength, the heart and determination, to see it through. Last night, with Ginny, he thought he did. This morning, with that option so securely shut down, he knew he did.