Chapter 17

Another Friday, another live cross. After a full week of Matt-lessness, I was feeling oddly serene. I missed him so much it made my heart ache, but I wasn't clinging to the idea of 'us' so much it bent my mind the way it had been doing.

When Matt and Taylor appeared on the screen after the ad break, I almost gasped. They both looked like different kinds of hell. Taylor seemed even smaller, as if she'd shrunk into her body, and her perpetual smile was shaky and pale. Horrified, I wondered if her cancer growth had accelerated, or if she'd just lost some of her pizazz now she was accepting the future loss of both her breasts.

Still, she tried. "Hi, everyone. We're crossing now to Evi, out on report. Good morning, Evi, you look really good for... You look good today."

Beside her, Matt just appeared exhausted. Bags hung from under his eyes, while his skin tone was greyed. His eyes were foggy, the colour diluted and unclear. He stared deep into the camera and spoke directly to me, rather than the viewers. "Evianna, are you okay?"

Robbo is going to kick your butt for not looking pretty enough, Matt... "Hi Matt and Taylor. I'm great! I'm up here in the gorgeous Northern Territory, where people flock to experience the local colour. And here at Croc-INK-dile, Shelley and her team help people take some of that colour home with them – under their skin."

As my report played, showing interviews with customers, Shelley and Frog, I tried to analyse what on earth was wrong with Matt. Shrugging it off, I concentrated on being present. Watching the entertaining footage, I smiled; it had come together well, showing alternative beauty in a way that made Shelley proud.

When it concluded, I spoke. "I've been personally challenged this week, viewers. I've found my views on beauty have been far too narrow. Being beautiful isn't about a flat belly or a pert nose or skin colour. It's about the acceptance of everything in its state, for the qualities you might not realise were even there.

"Have you ever looked at a newborn baby? Truly studied one? They're actually incredibly weird looking! They're like squashy potatoes, with blotchy red patches and goopy skin. But you'd never say that to a mother – because you know that her baby is beautiful to her. It represents nine months of hard work and an epic labour. The beauty is in the hidden details.

"I'd like to encourage the whole country to look for the beautiful in others, regardless of waistline or facial perfection. Appreciate kind eyes, or a beautiful smile, or a soothing voice. Strong hands that show a lifetime of work, facial wrinkles from a million smiles, or the swell of hips that have carried and born babies. The Mohawk to the Mullet, tatts and piercings, posture and body language, go deeper into your ideas of beauty. I promise you, it's hiding there."

I steeled myself for the last part of my cross. "So, before I let you go today, I have to show you all something. I've been here a week and I've learned at the hand of a master. Now, I'm ready to pick up the needle myself."

As pre-organised, I crossed to where Frog lay on a reclining seat. Shelley stood beside him, holding a ready needle. "Frog is looking for a special addition to one of his existing tatts and he's letting me take the reins on this one."

I leaned over his leg, where pre-marked lines were laid out for me to follow. The open mouthed frog on his leg was getting a long red tongue, and while Australia watched, I inked his skin, feeling a bizarre burst of confidence and power as I altered his body forever.

Leaning up, I lifted the needle and grinned into the camera. "That's it from up here in Darwin, everyone! Have a brilliant weekend, and stay beautiful!"

"We miss you, Evi," Matt rushed to say. "Pick up a phone every now and then, please?"

"No promises! See you next week!" I waved at Matt's clenched face as the screen faded to black.

Shelley beamed at me. "Bonzer, love! And good work on that tatt too. Now, hurry up and finish, don't leave Frog hanging."

The crew packed up, and again the producer approached me. "Evi... I have another call for you."

"Nope," I said, head down, pushing out my lip in concentration. I'd reached the end of the frog tongue, and had to manoeuvre the needle back down the other side.

"But it's important, apparently."

"Still nope." I waved him away with my head. "I'm not taking the phone. Off you go."

Defeated, he left. Shelley tilted her head at me. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were hiding yourself away."

"It's the opposite. I'm setting myself free. Hey, Shelley, before I leave this afternoon, can you help me with something?"

Four hours later, I caught a cab to the airport, a song in my heart and a Band-Aid on my skin, headed for another adventure.

***

Heather barrelled into the austere loft apartment and hugged me tightly. "Evi! Oh my god! How was your weekend? Tell me everything!"

It had only been three days since we'd seen each other, but it felt like much longer. I'd flown back into Sydney the night before, and rather than head home, I caught a cab directly to the accommodation Heather had booked us in North Sydney. "Amazing. Best ever. I actually feel like a different person."

"I'm not surprised. I hear that kind of experience really changes people."

I reflected on my trip. From Darwin, I'd flown down to Alice Springs, the red centre of my beautiful country. I'd camped out in the desert under a canvas tent, spending two full glorious days exploring Uluru with only my own company.

I hadn't felt it would be morally right to climb the rock, knowing how sacred it was to the Indigenous Australians who had called the land home for longer than my tiny mind could comprehend. Instead, I hiked around the base, laying my hands on the red surface and experiencing a closeness with the land and all those who had come before me.

I rode a camel, hung out by camp fires, ate a witchetty grub, and searched my soul under a blanket of bright stars. The whole experience was incredibly spiritual, and not something I could even put words to yet. "It moved me," I told Heather. "I feel very grounded at the moment. How was your time with Andie?"

She dumped her suitcase on the couch. "Ah-maze-ing! We had tons of sex, swam, relaxed, slept in, watched movies. Oo, and I got to hold a baby crocodile!" She plucked her phone from her back pocket and showed me the picture of her and Andie in Akubra hats, cuddling the tiny croc. "Thanks so much, Evi. We really needed that."

"You're welcome, lovely." I hugged her again, feeling her good energy vibrating through me. "Besides, I don't think I could ever do as much for you as you've done for me."

"It's all you, lady." She winked at me, her hazel eyes glowing. "I'm just the assistant."

"Yeah, right." I sat on the hard, designer couch. "So, tell me, assistant, where are we off to today?"

"We leave in an hour, and you have to wear a suit."

"Heather, what's going on?"

"Tell you when we get there!" she sing-songed, hefting her suitcase up. "I'm in the apartment next door. I'll be back to get you in ten!"

Resigned but not perturbed, I climbed the stairs to the bedroom. The windows on the far wall were incredible, showing a magnificent view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, sheltering hundreds of white boats twinkling on the blue bay. Nestled beneath the bridge was the Opera House, the sails as bright as beacons. The whole vista was so iconic and Australian, I felt like bursting into the national anthem every time I glanced outside.

I changed into my power suit: a vivid red jacket and tailored pants, with a black silk blouse underneath. Sliding into my sky-high black Louboutin's, I was amazed to find myself slipping so naturally back into my corporate skin. After weeks of sneakers, sandals and bare feet, I'd almost forgotten what heels felt like.

In the taxi, I wound my hair into a bun and plied Heather with questions, all of which she ignored. After only a few minutes, we pulled up in front of a towering monolith, a building of black glass which seemed to scream corporate and boring.

Inside the florescent-lit foyer, a perfectly coiffured receptionist signed us in and issued passes to visit 'World Feast' on the fifteenth floor. I whispered, "This is a charity, right? I did a piece on them last year. They were going bankrupt!"

We clacked around the corner to the lifts, where Heather pushed the button. "They were on their way to ruin, yup. But this CEO magnate swooped in and saved the day. Now, they're one of the most profitable charities in the country."

"That's a weird way to put it. I thought charities weren't meant to make a profit." As the lift rose swiftly, I popped my ears by opening my jaw.

"You're working with the CEO all week as his assistant. I think you'll have fun."

Heather's glinting eyes made me wonder what on earth I was in for. "Okay, woman. I trust you."

The doors slid open and we emerged on the top floor of the building. All the talk of CEO's and huge profits had me expecting a glamourous office space, perhaps with a model-esque assistant manning an imposing desk, arching a finely plucked eyebrow at us.

Instead, it was a normal sized desk and a normal looking receptionist. She smiled as we approached. "Good morning!"

"Hey! This is Evianna Moore, here to see Jason Lightfoot."

"Certainly," she replied pleasantly. "I'll let him know you're here."

Heather squeezed my hand quickly. "I'll see you back at the loft this afternoon."

Every time Heather had dropped me somewhere new, I'd always felt a little abandoned; a child left at the supermarket, wishing for mummy. As she walked away that day, I straightened my spine. I am a woman on strength and beauty. I'm happy and funny. No one has my permission to make me feel small.

And with those words in my heart, I didn't quail at all as the receptionist called out, "He's ready for you, Ms Moore."

"Thank you." Pushing my chest out, I strode forward. I refuse to feel like the little virgin at the start of 50 Shades...

If I'd been expecting a Christian Gray, I would have been disappointed by the appearance of the thirty-something man inside the relatively modest office. He was short and ordinary looking, with an expensive grey suit that looked like every other boring business suit I'd ever seen. His hairline was receding slightly, and while he did sport a fashionable fuzz over his face, not much else about him stood out physically.

Then, he spoke. "Evianna Moore! Jason Lightfoot, good to meet you." And with only his introduction and a smile, I felt the sheer charisma of his personality slap me like an unexpected wave. The man exuded will and magnetism with a force so complete, I would have handed him both my credit card and panties without a second thought.

Whoa! Two can play at this game... I'd been told numerous times how dominant my personality was when I turned it on. Cocking my head, I flashed my left eyebrow in a nonchalant way. "A pleasure, Lightfoot."

He paused for a second, thrown by my lack of awe in his presence. "Ha! I was going to invite you to call me Jace, but I like this better."

He marched towards me, and I leaned on one hip, thrusting the other forward. "So do I."

"Well, well, aren't you a force?" He shook my hand and our skin reacted, a chemical heat a by-product of the magnetism we were both creating. "Now, I know why your name is Moore. I can't wait to discover more about you."

"And I suppose you're Lightfoot because you're adept at sneaking out of a woman's bedroom the morning after?"

He bellowed in laughter at my sass. "Oh, yes, Moore. This is going to be a good week. Come on, let's take a look around."

We left the office, but I didn't let him lead; I was enjoying the sensation of matching him. Side by side, we trod down the long corridor. "So, you've only been in charge of World Feast for a year, is that right?"

"Came on board about fourteen months ago. The place was a shambles; the previous management were great people, awesome human beings, all about the starving kids, but totally useless when it came to running a business.

"Now, me, I couldn't give a damn what the business is. It could be running guns for the Yakuza or funding organ transplants or selling paperclips. Give me a company and I can turn a profit. Before WF, I was CEO of the second biggest insurance group in the world. Before that, fast food, record labels, hospitals. Every company thinks they're a unique snowflake, but run one, run them all."

His words were brazen, but not vain. He spoke with the confidence of a man who had found his calling, and knew damn well he was good at it.

We entered a door marked, 'Cash pit.' Okay...

Inside, I was confronted with a sprawling open-plan floor space, crammed with desks manned by at least a hundred people. Every single one of them was on the phone, chatting and animated, with big smiles on their faces.

Lightfoot explained. "The fund raising for WF used to be based on goodwill, volunteers, a yearly appeal, a pathetic website. The first thing I did when I came on board was to make it clear: we might be a charity, but that doesn't mean we're not selling a product."

"What product is that?"

"The concept of feeding the needy. It's not just an ideal, it's a product. So, how do we move it? Easy. Give people something to buy into."

He reached across to a shelving unit. "These are our product samples."

I caught the small bag he tossed in my direction. "Charity Chocolates?"

"One of our best sellers. We also have Donation Delights and Goodwill Goodies. We've raised millions by selling these babies. More money for the charity workers to do their thing, organise the actual aid, while back here I'm providing jobs for hundreds - not to mention the confectionary is all Australian made, so I get a tax-break for supporting Aussie industry."

I folded my arms, impressed. "Flogging sugar to overfed Australians while feeding the world. Not bad."

"Thanks, Moore." He smiled, appearing to be genuinely pleased with my approval. "Come on, I'll introduce you around."

We toured the office, where Lightfoot held a God-like status. The women, young and old, practically swooned as he passed by, and the men responded with warmth and brotherhood.

But he had to share the limelight with me; my face was recognised by everyone, and I signed countless autographs while answering questions about all my adventures.

"No, I'm sorry, I don't know any good tattoo parlours in Sydney, but if you're ever in Darwin, drop in and see Shelley."

Two young ladies whispered together as I passed. "She's so nice! Just like on TV!"

"And even prettier in person!"

As much as I was growing into an independent woman who didn't require the validation of others to feel good about herself, I smiled inwardly at their words.

Lightfoot waved at his team when he made it back to the front of the room. "Great job, everyone! Hit those targets for the end of the month, and look forward to your bonuses!"

A general cheer went up in appreciation of the boss-man. I glanced across at him, observing his bright smile and easy style. For the last few weeks I'd been dealing with boys like Matt and Joel, who were lovely and fun to look at, but not men. Lightfoot was all man – a dominant, strong-willed, intelligent, interesting man.

I want to sleep with you. I decided it quickly, feeling certainty and lust in equal parts. I am going to take you to bed and rock your world.

It wasn't like any choice I'd made before when it came to random hook-ups; I wasn't drunk, desperate or in denial. I knew what I wanted and it was for good reasons. I wasn't looking for a relationship with Lightfoot, but my body had needs, the desire was there and my soul was in a stable enough place to enjoy itself.

Matt briefly flickered in my mind. What I felt for him was so very different and convoluted, and it was tied up in all my self-loathing and old ways. But we weren't together; we weren't anything. I was my own woman and I wanted Lightfoot. For all I knew, Matt and Taylor were off having wildly attractive sex every night anyway. I was through holding myself back because of 'what if's.'

I didn't want to proposition the CEO. That hadn't exactly worked out with Anthony, and there was still a part of me enjoying the chase. The perfect situation would be for him to send me a clear signal, so we could meet in the middle, rather than one of us having to be the reacher.

We walked back to his office, and I couldn't help baiting him a little. "Well, your staff seem to love you. Especially the ladies..."

As if to highlight my point, a very pretty phone girl flounced past, dressed in a suit that would have made Taylor proud; short and tight. "Hi, Mr Lightfoot." She battered her eyelids in submission before teetering onwards in her precarious heels.

He nodded in acknowledgment, then grinned at me. "I'll admit it; I get my fair share of female attention. And do you know why?"

"Are you hiding a six-pack under that suit? Or elephantiasis below the belt?"

Laughing he held open his door for me. "Nope to both. Physically, I'm just an ordinary dude."

We settled on his couches in the corner of his office, where someone had laid out hot drinks and Tim-Tams on the coffee table. I poured a cup of tea and evenly considered the siren call of the chocolate bickies. Rather than my normal extremes - deny myself completely or take four at once - I plucked just one from the pile and touched it to my lips as I said, "So, tell me, oh wise one; what is the secret to your allure?"

He lifted his coffee, analysing me with sky-blue eyes. "Do you know what's really sexy? Confidence. Power. Self-awareness. I don't have to spend hours at the gym or worry about the size of what I'm packing, because what makes me attractive is not what I am, but who I am."

"I'll bet the money helps," I said drily.

"My friends used to say the same thing. 'Jace, the only reason you get all the girls is because of your CEO salary.' So, to prove them wrong, I quit my last job which was paying seven figures, and took this gig which pays practically nothing." He waved his hands to indicate his domain. "Your job doesn't dictate your charisma. I've met weedy CEO's and powerful dog-walkers. You create what you project, regardless of looks, money or status."

A smile crawled across his face as he eyed me. "It's the same for ladies, you know? That little thing in the corridor with her flirty shyness could never interest me the way you do."

"Moi?" I narrowed my eyes and gave him a sultry look.

"Yes, you, Moore." He leaned forward, the heat from his body radiating towards mine. "You feel yourself reacting to me, the same way I'm responding to you. This is what equality feels like, and it's hot as hell."

I couldn't deny it; he was whipping up a storm inside me, and the knowledge that he felt the same was heady. "So, what do you suggest?"

"I think we should spend the next three days banging each other senseless. What do you say?"

Gotcha. "How about you start by taking me to dinner?" I rubbed my foot against his leg, loving the way he shuddered. "Then, we'll talk."

Steamy times ahead!  I know Evi is moving fast with Lightfoot - but no faster than Anthony or Joel :)

Have you ever felt a powerful attraction to someone who wasn't conventionally attractive?  Did you like Evi's side trip to Uluru?  What tattoo do you think Evi asked for?  Tell me about it in the comments!  And then please remember to vote!  xxoo Kate