CHAPTER 17

 
 
“You.” Clarice squeaked, then clamped her
mouth shut before she started cursing Hunter, who in fact was the
occupant she had waited for. But before Hunter could turn his face
to look at her, she pretended to dig into her large bag, hiding her
face.
Oh dear, why all of a sudden must she have
an itch in her throat? Trying to hold it in, she couldn’t help
releasing a massive cough, which alerted Hunter to her
presence.
Hunter was a bit taken aback when he turned
to see a petite woman holding a bag near her face, huddled in the
corner of the elevator like a scared mouse. And here he thought he
was all alone when he entered. He supposed he was too depressed
over losing his mysterious goddess that he didn’t give a thorough
look at his surroundings. He couldn’t get a good look at her face,
but man, was her body definitely his type. Kind of reminded him of
the avocado.
Clarice cut her eyes a bit so she could take
a sneak peek at Hunter when she was sure his attention was
elsewhere. She lowered the bag a little more to get a better
view.
He looks horrible, she thought,
absolutely horrible. In fact, even worse off than when she’d
first seen him at the café. That hair was even more messed up than
before. And his clothes… What was he doing last night, all wrinkled
up like that? Then a scenario of the Casanova’s activity of last
night swam into her head.
He must have bedded a woman, and by the
looks of things, she must have kicked him out. Otherwise, that
Casanova would never appear in anything other than pressed and
branded clothing. Serves him right.
At that very moment, as Hunter was about to
push the eleventh floor button, he turned to face Clarice, who
almost jumped in fright, automatically smacking her bag right in
her face just so Hunter couldn’t see her, resulting in a loud
thwacking sound.
The price of keeping one’s identity
anonymous was very painful indeed. Dear heaven, that hurt like
hell.
Damn you, Casanova. It’s all your fault.
“Hey,” Hunter asked somberly, eyeing the
woman who was acting strangely. “Which floor?”
Crap, he wants me to answer him? In
order to keep her identity safe, she decided to use her best
impression of an old lady’s voice.
“Eleventh floor,” she said seductively.
Shit, that sounded like his mysterious
goddess. Hunter’s eyes immediately jerked toward the woman who
still held that bag blocking her face.
“Say that again?” Hunter asked, which came
out more like a demand, piqued at the woman’s voice. Could it be
her?
Heaven help her! Was she so affected by last
night that her voice was still laced with that seductive passion?
She had to use her hoarse voice if she wanted to fool Hunter into
believing she was an old woman. Muster up that croaky voice,
Clarice. Muster up that voice now.
“Eleventh,” she said seductively again.
Oh deary me, it came out wrong again.
By this stage, Hunter was convinced the
woman who shared the same lift was actually hiding something from
him, and he bet his life that he was not wrong.
Moving closer, he tried to sneak a peek at
her face, but whichever direction he turned, she would counteract,
as a result, hiding her identity from him.
Clarice could feel his gaze on her. Hunter
was standing so close. If he saw her face, she was sure she’d die.
Hunter would annoy her again. She didn’t need this. Not at all.
How to get rid of him? she thought.
Obviously, standing with the bag in front of
her face for the duration of the lift’s journey would not be
successful because she could sense at any minute now, Hunter would
advance, demanding to see her.
Then an idea struck her. She pretended to
cough profusely, indirectly telling him to stay away or she might
pass her virus onto him. Then she dug into her bag and donned the
clinical mask that she usually kept in her bag for times like this.
Extracting her pair of dark-shaded sunglasses, she donned those
too. Her stage was set. So when Hunter’s hand landed on her
shoulder, pulling her around to face him, the look on his face
almost made her burst out laughing because it was just so
hilarious.
Hunter almost jumped out of his skin when he
saw Clarice all dressed up like she was infected with a deathly
virus, complete with clinical mask and glasses.
“Sorry, young man. Don’t mind me. I just got
a wee bit of a cold,” she put on her old lady’s voice. Finally, it
came out right. She just hoped she sounded sick enough to halt his
suspicion of her. “Best to stay away.”
Clarice’s plan worked, for Hunter was now
wedged all the way to the other side of the small elevator, his
back pressed against the wall, gaining as much distance from the
infected lady as possible.
It must be his imagination. He must be
really thinking about his mysterious goddess so nonstop that her
voice continued to play inside his head like a broken record. That
was why he found this lady with the mask so fascinating. But try as
he might, despite her saying she had a cold, he still couldn’t keep
his eyes away from her. Sure he could keep his distance, but his
eyes just wouldn’t listen to him. She reminded him of that avocado
so much. They were practically the same height, with the same color
hair. Apart from the voice that at first sounded so much like his
goddess, this lady screamed avocado. But how could the avocado be
here? This was Queenstown, not Auckland.
Through her shaded sunglasses, Clarice could
see Hunter gazing at her again. “You like what you see, young man?”
She couldn’t help teasing. That was usually the line he used to
lure his female fans into his bed. Now lets see how that Casanova
would react being hit on by an old lady, she thought grinning at
her idea.
Hunter tried to stop himself from imagining
anything erotic with the lady. What the hell was wrong with him? He
was being hit on by an old lady with some sort of virus.
Instead of telling her to stay away, he just
smiled a gentle smile and turned back towards the elevator
door.
He smiled at me. Hunter, that
no-good, annoying man she constantly called Casanova actually
smiled at her, and a very gentle smile at that. Not that flirty “I
want you in my bed” smile, but the gentle, genuine kind one would
give someone they loved. Suddenly, she realized she didn’t like him
smiling at her at all. She found it hard to breathe with her mask
on and in that small, confined elevator.
Clarice was trying so hard to control her
breathing pattern when a sudden stop in the elevator caused her
body to crash against Hunter’s. He in that instant captured her
within his arms to stop her from hitting the wall. Clarice was so
scared of the turn of events that she held on to Hunter’s neck for
dear life.
“What was that?” she asked, her voice
shaking, losing its disguise.
“Shit, it must be the elevator stopping
again,” Hunter said, looking at that masked face with the
sunglasses, all too aware of the sudden change in pitch and tone.
It was like she was speaking in a different voice.
Their eyes suddenly locked together and then
nothing else seemed to exist. Something in the atmosphere seemed to
shift.
Peach scent. Peach and orange blossom. The
lady smelled of peaches and orange blossoms just like his
mysterious goddess from last night.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Hunter felt his loins warming up again.
Shit. That was twice this morning. He mentally cursed himself, then
gently placed her down on the floor. He needed space. He needed to
get away from her. This lady was really playing with his mind.
Hunter let her go when she found her footing
and immediately escaped to the panel of buttons so he could somehow
control his urges. Trying to distract his mind from thinking about
his mysterious goddess, the avocado, and this lady with an infected
virus, he decide to fix the problem at hand.
Hunter pushed the activation button, but
that didn’t seem to awaken the elevator. He rang for emergency, but
no one picked up.
Hunter muttered something along the lines
of, “I’ll fire all of them when I get out,” then turned to look at
the lady again. With her huge black shades on, he couldn’t tell
whether she was afraid or not, but looking at her posture, her
fingers twisting together, he could see she was nervous.
“It’s all right, ma’am. The elevator will
run again soon,” he said to reassure her. All she did was nod her
head, then turn to look at the rose painting on the wall.
Shaking his head at the peculiar lady, he
called Anton, who should be in his office working by now.
“Goddamn it. Pick up the phone, you old
lout,” he shouted when voicemail picked up.
Then the elevator gave another shake, and
before he knew it, the lady was in his arms once more, gripping his
neck like he was her lifeline.
God, he couldn’t shake the feelings that
overcame him as his nose inhaled her scent once again. But his
mysterious goddess was a… Dammit, he hadn’t a clue, but his goddess
was most definitely not some black-haired loony woman who wears a
mask and sunglasses just because she has a cold.
Somehow at that precise moment, they locked
eyes again, and just when Hunter was about to tear the glasses off
her face to satisfy his curiosity, to see whether she was in fact
the avocado or his mysterious lady who had dyed her hair black or
just some lady who really was infected with a cold, the elevator
door dinged opened.
“Oh, thank heavens,” Clarice shouted, using
her natural voice, so happy to be out of this tight confinement
that she forgot to feign her old lady’s voice. She literally made a
dash out the door to her room, which was on the other side of the
hotel, as fast as her little legs could take her, before Hunter
could even blink an eye.
But Hunter’s reaction was fast and his feet
were faster. This was no sick old lady. Who was she and why was she
hiding behind that mask and sunglasses?
Clarice, realizing now that she was being
pursued, ran as fast as her legs could take her, passing her own
room and turning into the exit door, taking the stairs back down.
But Hunter being Hunter, having won the university short-distance
race, was able to catch up to her in no time at all. And when he
did catch her, he pinned her to the wall and tore off her mask and
glasses.
“I knew it. Avocado? What are you doing
here? Stalking me?”
“What?” Clarice almost burst out laughing.
“I don’t have any stalking genes in me, thank you very much,” she
said. “Now, would you please back off a bit? You’re squeezing me
into the wall here.”
“Ahhh, I’m so happy, Avocado. Must be my
lucky day to see you all the way out here,” Hunter said teasingly,
his mood lightened up all of a sudden. He couldn’t believe his
lovesickness with his mysterious goddess could be cured in a matter
of seconds when he saw the avocado.
“Let go,” Clarice yelled when Hunter refused
to unpin her from his body, but he also gripped her hands too. “And
give me back my mask and glasses.”
“No. Why were you wearing these?” Hunter
asked, suspicious. “Were you planning on stealing something?”
Hunter knew thieves these days came in all
shapes and forms. He knew Clarice wasn’t one to steal, but he
wanted to ruffle her feathers a bit.
“I am not a thief. I just don’t want to see
your face, that’s all.”
“Really? You don’t want to see this handsome
face?”
“Handsome?” Clarice scoffed. “Have you
checked yourself in the mirror yet? You look like a sparrow just
decided to house her babies in your hair. Did you even brush it
this morning?” she retorted.
“It’s style, avocado,” Hunter said smoothly,
running his hand through his short hairstyle in a cool posture.
“It’s new fashion. Old people like you wouldn’t know.”
“Really?” Clarice quirked one of her
eyebrows as a challenge. “Young kids these days sporting that kind
of hair style?”
“Yeah. You got a problem with that?”
“No, just asking, since it looks really good
on you,” Clarice replied. “Just add a week’s worth of stubble; then
you have yourself a barbaric caveman.”
“Hah? A barbaric caveman. That’s a good
one.” Hunter laughed. “And you look like a medieval old woman who
just had a roll in the hay.” He motioned to her crinkled blouse,
which he had just noticed for the first time. What had she been
doing last night to to be in this condition?
“Hunter!” Clarice had enough of this
bickering. Of course her clothes were all wrinkled because of what
happened last night with Anton.
“What? Giving up your verbal fight already?”
he asked slyly.
Clarice was fuming underneath her cool
demeanor, but since she was the older one, she had to compose
herself like a responsible adult would when the younger party
refused to back down.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to argue
with adults?” she asked.
“I don’t consider you an adult. After all,
you’re just an avocado,” Hunter said.
“You!” Clarice clamped her mouth shut again.
She knew if she continued to converse with Hunter, she could
guarantee colorful profanity would come gushing out of her lips.
There was no use talking to him at all.
“I’m leaving,” she said.
“Wait! I haven’t finished playing with you
yet,” Hunter said, holding her in place.
“I’m not a toy, Hunter. Go and find someone
else for your amusement.” She struggled within his grasp.
“I don’t want to find another. You’re
amusing enough already. I want to continue playing with you,”
Hunter confessed, not really understanding what he meant by that
himself.
“Dear heavens, let me ask you something.”
She stopped her struggling and took a deep breath, then turned her
eyes toward Hunter.
“What is it?” Hunter asked, surprised.
“Don’t you have anything to do in life?”
Clarice began her lecture. “Why are you constantly annoying me all
the time like this? Why don’t you take your time to help society or
contribute to the community or something? You have a job, right?
Why do I always see you wandering around like you have nothing to
do? I’m telling you; stop this wayward style of yours. It doesn’t
benefit anyone, especially yourself.”
“Clarice, stop.” Hunter didn’t like hearing
about his wayward, Casanova life. It just hurt. He knew he was
stupid. He knew his behavior was beyond repair, but how could he
stop? He just needed a human body to make him go to sleep. Last
night was the very first night he had sleep soundly, after sharing
intimate moments with his mysterious goddess.
“No, you need to hear this.” Clarice
continued. “I know we’re still strangers, even though I feel like
I’ve known you like a lifetime already, but please, just stop it
with that—”
“Clarice, stop!” Hunter repeated.
But Clarice didn’t pay Hunter any heed as
she continued with her lecture. “I mean, what happens if you get
someone pregnant?”
“Clarice, stop talking now!” Hunter
demanded, his voice increasing another octave.
But Clarice didn’t notice his temper
darkening, so she just continued lecturing him. “Will you marry
her? Will you change your Casanova ways? How are you going to
support her? I’m only telling you this as a big sister would
because you are younger than—”
Hunter snapped. And to shut her up, he
crushed his lips onto hers, forcing her to stop talking, forcing
her to stop lecturing him. But by God, it was delicious. It felt
like last night with his mysterious goddess all over again.
The taste, the scent, the heat of those
lips, it was all turning his mind to a puddle. He couldn’t think,
couldn’t speak, but just continued to take and enjoy while he
punished her with his tongue, invading her territory. His
mysterious goddess, this was his mysterious goddess. Oh God, he was
kissing his mysterious goddess again.
“Shit!” Hunter pulled back when reality came
crashing back into him. This was not his mysterious goddess; it was
actually Clarice, the avocado woman who was older than him by seven
years.
He saw Clarice staring up at him with a
blank expression like she was in some sort of trance. Her lips were
all swollen from his invading kiss.
Then he saw her long, beautiful, slender
fingers caressing her own swollen lips, moving ever so slowly on
those lips he had just ravished with his hungry kiss. Hunter
swallowed, wanting very much to kiss those lips again.
“You kissed me,” she said blankly. “Why did
you kiss me?” Then, as if she had awakened from her stupor, she
fluttered her eyes open and stared at him as if she just saw him
for the first time. The situation finally sank in, and she fled the
scene.
“I… I…” Hunter couldn’t form a cohesive
sentence. He was confused at the moment. He couldn’t understand why
he was kissing the avocado. The first time at the restaurant was an
accident. This time it was not.
Wracking his brain for a simple explanation,
he just couldn’t come up with any as he watched her once again flee
down the stairs with her hair tossing behind her, just like the
very first time she had fled from him when she’d delivered those
flowers to his townhouse the day before Valentine’s.
For once, the king of Casanovas was at a
loss for words.