The Reluctant Wag by Mary Costello

didn’t look like herself. She looked at the girl in the mirror, and felt somehow detached from the glamorous image. She was wearing a magnificent silk dress in the Yarraside colours of black and silver. The corsetted bodice hugged her upper body, revealing her slim, shapely figure and leaving her gleaming white shoulders bare. The skirt floated out behind her as she moved, giving an impression of graceful elegance.
    ‘You look like a goddess,’ said Erica, who’d come to help her dress. ‘Really, I’ve never seen you look so lovely.’
    ‘That’s because I’m not so lovely. It’s the clothes and the make-up and the hair.’
    Erica shook her head.’Don’t be silly – those things only enhance the way you look. Your natural beauty shines through. I’m so glad they left your hair out.’
    Her thick, long mane was gently curling around her shoulders. It had been ages since Merise had worn it like that. She usually tied it back in a ponytail or piled it up on her head to keep it out of the way. Now it added a voluptuous quality to her classic beauty.
    ‘I don’t know. I just hope it’s not windy – it’ll fly off in all directions and I’ll look like Medusa.’
    At that moment the doorbell rang and Erica went to open the door. It was Cal. He stood there filling the doorway, looking unexpectedly elegant in a tuxedo and white shirt. When Merise turned and saw him she gave a small, involuntary gasp. He looked so ruggedly handsome. She felt her insides flutter as their eyes met. Neither of them moved.
    Erica instantly sensed the tension. ‘Right,’ she said cheerily. ‘Come in. It’s Cal McCoy, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yes,’ he muttered, barely noticing Erica as he walked up to Merise, never taking his eyes off her. She felt herself go hot and cold by turns. He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to have second thoughts. The expression on his face was hard to read. Then he smiled and said casually, ‘The club colours have never looked so classy.’
    Her heart sank. Nothing about her – always the club, always his precious Wolves. Taking her cue from him, Merise responded as casually as she could manage. ‘Yes, it’s a magnificent dress. And you look very smart. Did SMO send a stylist to sort you out, too?’
    He laughed mischievously at that. ‘They tried. They’ve sent me a lot of emails and they’ve been ringing me, but somehow I haven’t been available.’
    ‘Very wise,’ she said brightly. If they could keep up this light banter all evening, she might manage not to stare at him, not to let him see that the sight of him had left her swooning on the inside. But he was so utterly, powerfully compelling. It wasn’t just the way he looked, it was the way he moved, his deep, seductive voice, the power that seemed to emanate from him. Stop this! she told herself. Focus on the job ahead.
    ‘Are you ready?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes, looking forward to it.’
    He looked surprised. ‘Really? I thought you’d be dreading it – an evening of empty-headed glam dominated by shallow celebrities and the parasitic paparazzi.’
    ‘Well, I’m trying to take a positive approach,’ she admitted. ‘I thought I could turn the experience into an article for my portfolio.’
    ‘Ah yes – ever the intrepid reporter,’ he quipped. ‘Just leave me out of it.’
    ‘Hah!’ she retorted. ‘You flatter yourself. Now, shall we get to work?’
    ‘Yep,’ he said. ‘Let’s do it for the barrackers!’
    Erica chatted easily as she walked them to the waiting limousine and waved them off. In the car, there was a strain between them that made Merise feel uncomfortable and edgy. She sat as far away from him as she could and kept her eyes fixed on the window. Neither spoke during the ten-minute drive to Southbank. But when they neared the casino precinct, the traffic slowed as they joined a long line of limousines waiting to deposit their celebrity passengers at the grand entrance.
    Merise peered anxiously over the