Free Never Too Late by Cathy Kelly

grinning lasciviously
    and running thick fingers through his oil-slick hair.
    She tried another tack.
    ‘Eric, I’ve got a lot of work to finish by tonight, I really
    need to get into the office as soon as possible. I don’t want
    to be rude, but I’d prefer it if you left so I could get ready.’
    ‘What’s the rush?’ he said, settling back in the bed to
    watch her. ‘I can get you into the office on the bike in ten
    minutes.’
    ‘You brought the bike home last night?’ she asked
    faintly, wondering what state he’d been in to drive it.
    ‘Yeah.’ He grinned. ‘You insisted on it, said you loved
    motorbikes. Come on,’ he patted the bed again. ‘We’ve got
    time …’
    For a brief moment, Cara thought about going back to
    bed. Eric clearly wasn’t going to go without either an
    argument or another session of rumpy-pumpy. She felt far
    too tired and fragile for a shouting match. She could
    always close her eyes and think of the empire.
    Then she thought of being stone cold sober and having
    Eric’s unshaven face slobbering all over her. And shuddered.

It
    was time for desperate measures.
    ‘Eric, leave this instant or I’m going to go into the office
    and tell everyone you’ve asked me to marry you. I’ve even
    got the ring.’ Cara pounced on her jewellery box, found an
    ornate gold and garnet dress ring of her mother’s and
    waggled it in his face. ‘I’ve wanted to get married for so
    long, I’m the last unmarried girl in my family and I know
    we’d suit each other perfectly …’
    She’d never seen him move so fast, even when he was on his Kawasaki 750 driving out of the car park flamboyantly to show off to any nearby female pedestrians.
    ‘Jeez,’ he muttered, dragging on his underpants, ‘you’re
    twisted.’
    ‘No,’ said Cara, batting her eyelashes insincerely, ‘just
    desperately in love with you. I’m twenty-six, you know,
    nearly twenty-seven. I don’t want to be left on the shelf
    and you’re just the type of man I go for. We could have a
    June wedding. I’ve always wanted to be a June bride,’ she
    added dreamily.
    Eric struggled so hard with his trouser zip that he nearly
    broke it.
    ‘I’m never getting married,’ he hissed, stumbling out of
    the room with his boots half-undone and his helmet, keys
    and jacket in his arms.
     
    ‘Neither am I,’ muttered Cara under her breath in a
    voice that wasn’t meant to be overheard.
    He stopped dragging his clothes on and wheeled around
    to face her.
    ‘You bitch!’ he howled. ‘You were just taking the piss,
    you just wanted me out of here!’
    There was no point in saying anything, not even that
    nobody else would be dumb enough to believe her in the
    first place. Cara opened the front door and stood by it
    patiently.
    “I know your type, Cara Fraser,’ Eric said angrily, jabbing
    a finger towards her. ‘I’m fine when you’re drunk but I’m
    not good enough for you otherwise, am I?’
    ‘It’s not like that …’ started Cara, but he didn’t wait for her to finish.
    ‘You stuck-up bitches are all the same. You think I’m
    thick. Well, I’m not.’ He looked terribly hurt, his face
    white. Cara felt suddenly sorry for him.
    “I don’t think you’re thick,’ she said, laying a hand on his
    arm. “I think you’re lovely. But I don’t want to get
    involved, Eric. Please understand that.’
    He shrugged off her arm.
    ‘Eric, have you known me date anyone since I’ve worked
    in Yoshi?’ she asked desperately. ‘No, you haven’t. Because
    I’m not into long-term relationships, I can’t handle them.’
    It wasn’t a great explanation or even a truthful one, but it
    seemed to be helping. His expression wasn’t as desolate.
    ‘Please understand that. I need my own space, Eric,
    that’s all. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
    ‘Well, why’d you talk to me last night?’ he demanded.
    Cara hesitated. Saying ‘because I was blind drunk and I
    made a huge mistake I now deeply, deeply regret’