The security guard, whose nametag read “Joe Buck, licence number 2483”, had been about to pass over her case and let her through. But at the ringing he tightened his grip. ‘I’m sorry, Ms Marlowe, but mobile phones are not allowed as per your contract.’
They had a brief game of tug of war before Cara let go. ‘But I didn’t bring my phone,’ she said, sure she had left it at home on her ironing-board.
Her case stopped ringing.
They looked at each other for a moment, both kind of hoping the other would agree that maybe they had imagined it.
‘OK, then, Ms Marlowe,’ Joe the security guard said. He handed the suitcase over again before the ringing resumed. ‘Ms Marlowe, I’m terribly sorry, but—’
Cara felt herself blushing to her toes. ‘I know. I know. I’m sorry. Just give me a second. I really do not remember packing it.’
With Maya’s words—keep your head down, don’t cause trouble, minimum of fuss—ringing in her head, she wanted to get this spectacle over with as quickly as possible. She lobbed her suitcase onto the ground, bent from the waist, unzipped the case, peeked around her neatly folded clothes and found…nothing.
A distinctive murmur invaded her ears. She glanced between her knees and saw a line had formed behind her. What a fantastic first impression she was making on her new colleagues: bum in the air, being searched for contraband.
The ringing stopped. She shook her case and the ringing began all over again. Not having any luck with checking under her clothes with care, she began to scoop them out in a flurry, hanging them messily over her shoulder. Her just-washed hair kept hanging in her eyes and she had to constantly blow it out of her face. Added to that she was getting hot from the unusual lifting movements that felt agonisingly like exercise. She was in first-day-on-the-job hell.
‘Is everything all right here?’
At the sound of the familiar deep voice, Cara stood up so fast the blood took longer than necessary to reach her head. She held out a hand to steady herself as the world turned fuzzy and black. Since Adam Tyler was the closest pillar to hand, he had to do.
Her vision slowly cleared. She looked into her nemesis’s dark blue eyes and bit back a self-effacing groan. He would hardly want to talk seriously about his time as Australian Businessman of the Year with a woman who could barely put one foot in front of the other without something going awry.
It just wasn’t fair that she had to be at her most klutzy around someone so smooth. Her last words to him had been ‘see you ‘round like a rissole,’ for goodness’ sake! Who said that bar eight-year-olds and grown-ups with limited sophistication?
It only made him all the more intimidating and she did not stand for feeling that way with anyone. She was talented. She was sought after. She was focussed. She was ambitious. She was self-made. She was leaning against him, her hand splayed across his unexpectedly sculpted chest, with half her clothes strewn over her shoulder and a pair of plain white cotton panties hanging from her finger.
She whipped her hand away and tucked it behind her, shaking madly until the underwear plopped back into her suitcase.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, reaching out to take her by the shoulder as though he was afraid she might collapse atop his shiny shoes.
Finding herself flummoxed, she pulled away, crouched down and began to pile her clothes back into her suitcase.
‘Low blood pressure,’ she said, frantically shoving her entire collection of cotton pants that had managed to make their way out of her suitcase back into her suitcase. ‘Stood up too fast. Should have known better. Gives me blackouts.’
‘Ah, Ms Marlowe,’ Joe the security guard cut in. ‘Your mobile phone?’
She threw the rest of her clothes atop the suitcase and stepped away. ‘You look for it. Please. Be my guest.’
The guard looked to Adam as though hoping perhaps he would prefer to rifle through her intimates instead. Adam backed behind Cara. But then the ringing sound returned and the guard took a deep breath and went searching.
As Cara watched in mortified silence, it finally occurred to her that she was once again in the vicinity of the man she had been looking forward to never seeing again.
‘What are you doing here anyway?’ she asked under her breath.
‘You’re the one who needed the leaning post,’ he said from right behind her.
‘Not here. But here, in the hotel.’
At that moment Joe the security guard came up with something jingling in his hand. It was not a mobile phone. It was a card. It had a huge ‘CONGRATULATIONS!’ scrawled across the front. And when the guard opened it the card played a very good imitation of a mobile phone ring tone.
Cara, Adam, and a good number of those in line craned over the guard’s shoulder for a closer look, to find the long gushy note Gracie had written and hidden in her case before Cara had left.
Every one of the big burly men turned to Cara with mushy looks on their faces. Cara just tapped her foot and held out a hand. Blushing, Joe handed over her private mail.
‘I am terribly sorry, Ms Marlowe.’
‘That’s OK, Joe,’ she said, swallowing down her indignation and embarrassment. There was no reason to make him feel bad. He hadn’t done anything wrong, though Gracie would receive a tongue-lashing along with a hug for this particular stunt. Cara gave the guard a pat on the back and smiled until she sensed him relaxing. ‘You were doing your job. And with impressive thoroughness. You are a credit to your post.’
Joe blushed and scuffed his toe on the carpet.
‘Can I have my case now?’ Cara asked.
‘Sure. Of course.’ Joe returned to his packing with extra special care.
Cara cleared her throat. ‘Thanks, Joe, but I can look after it from here.’
Joe stood up, his blush growing by the second. While he went back to checking the bags of the growing line of guests, Cara continued to repack her case. But of course she could no longer get it closed. She looked about her for help. Joe was going through Adam’s bag and naturally everything seemed to be going swimmingly for him.
Adam glanced her way. She bit back her pride and waved him over. ‘If I sit, can you zip?’
A knowing smile lifted his mouth and she wanted nothing more than to slap it away. ‘Of course,’ he said.
She sat, having to lift her legs when he rounded the front, so that he could duck beneath them. Would there never be an end to her humiliation when he was about?
‘Come on, say it,’ she insisted.
‘What?’
‘Whatever it is you’re thinking.’ Some smartypants comment about my backside, or falling into your arms, or about my white cotton underwear.
‘I was thinking you handled Joe’s embarrassment brilliantly. You are one very nice lady, Ms Marlowe.’
‘Oh.’
Adam tugged the zip through the last few centimetres. Taking a hold of her ankles, he pulled her feet back to the ground. ‘There. All done.’
He kept a hold of her bare ankles for several long moments before releasing his grip with a final soft pat. Cara had to swallow to wet her suddenly parched throat.
‘Adam, you never did say what you were doing here?’
‘Not surprisingly, considering the floor show was a heck of a lot more interesting than anything I had to say.’
Cara felt a growl growing in her chest but Adam got there first.
‘Revolution Wireless is sponsoring the show.’
Now