His face grew rigid. ‘Of course.’ His hands went into his pockets, distorting the line of his immaculately tailored trousers. ‘So you found out the bar was going up for sale and decided to skip it.’
‘Actually it was because you were looking for another manager that I realised the time was right for me to leave.’
There was a sharp silence. Finally he asked, ‘How do you know that?’
‘The agency rang while I was here. They’d mislaid your number and called the club directly.’ She folded her arms tight across her body and clenched her fists into her sides. ‘Just when were you going to tell me my services were no longer required? Did you want another round of sex first?’
‘Lucy.’ Not conciliatory. Cross.
‘You don’t think I’m doing a good enough job, do you? You’ve been sitting at the end of that bar night after night just watching, waiting for me to stuff up. Judge, jury and executioner. What was it I did, Daniel? What rule or regulation did I break?’
‘Don’t make out like you’re some sort of failure, Lucy. It’s beyond time you lost that chip. You’re not that much of a rebel. It’s not like you left school early and descended into some drink and drugs hell.’
‘Yeah, that’s me. Second-rate rebel.’ Second rate all round. Clearly the only thing he thought she was good at was sex. Well, so what? You didn’t need to be much of a success at anything to manage that and it wouldn’t be long until he found someone else to be as physical with. Her stomach convulsed, revulsed at the thought, but she quelled it—swallowing the nausea. She’d tried so hard. And he hadn’t believed in her. He never had.
She was so far out of his league—she knew it and he knew it. Lust was the only reason he was with her and that was transient.
It hurt. Really hurt. She’d hoped that he’d seen the work she’d put in. Thought she’d impressed him. It was pathetic that she wanted to. Since when did she care what some guy in a suit thought? But he wasn’t just a suit. He was special. And if he’d believed in her then she’d really have done it—found her place at last.
He frowned at her. ‘I think you’re doing a great job here, Lucy.’
‘Rubbish, Daniel. You wouldn’t be looking for another manager if you did.’
‘I was worried you were working too hard.’
‘Oh, please. That’s ridiculous coming from you. I was handling it fine and you know it. That’s the most pathetic reason. You just wanted someone else. Be honest.’
‘OK. I thought I had better find a replacement. And you want to know why?’ He stepped closer. ‘Because I knew the minute you found out that the club was going on the market you’d be out of there. Because you’ve never stuck at anything your whole life, have you? One sniff of anything getting remotely complicated and you’d be gone.’ His volume increased. ‘And wasn’t I right? That’s exactly what you did the minute you found out the club was being sold.’
‘Actually, you’re wrong, Daniel. Wrong. Maybe I would have done that before. But not this time. For once in my life I was going to stay and fight for that job. I love it. I don’t want to leave. I thought I’d see if I could get the new owner to keep me on. It wasn’t until I found out about your hunt for a manager that I decided to leave.’ She stopped for a quick breath. He looked shocked. ‘Because now we know what you really think of me. And I can’t say I blame you. That’s fine. I never expected you to believe in me.’
‘Lucy.’
‘Let’s leave it. No analysis, remember?’ She looked away, not wanting to hear him try to defend something that was simply, painfully true. There was nothing he could say that would put a gloss on it that would make it palatable for her. ‘I really think I should go now.’
‘Where are you going?’ He didn’t even try another argument.
Her heart shredded. ‘I’m not sure yet. Maybe north. Somewhere warm.’ Because she felt so cold inside.
He made a move as if he was going to reach for her and she backed off quickly, opened the door. ‘It was fun, Daniel. That’s all it was ever meant to be.’
She didn’t look at the others as she left. Just put her head down and tripped down the stairs as fast as possible without falling and breaking her neck.
Daniel remained in the room. Immobile. Stared at her cowgirl boots still on the table. After a moment he looked around the small office. It was so different from the day he’d walked in when he’d found the old manager slumped behind the desk drunk and drowning in an array of papers and bottles. Not only had she come in and run it, she’d tightened it—the shelves were stocked with neat files, books, regulations, supply brochures neatly stacked. The desk cleared, the staff roster neatly written up on the whiteboard on the wall. Contact numbers of bar staff alongside. He picked up the paper draped over the keyboard. Scanned the first couple of paragraphs—a report on the club and future prospects. He couldn’t read on. Bad feeling prickled. The bruise on his hand ached. She had been doing a good job and she’d wanted to keep working there.
He’d been wrong. It wasn’t because of the club’s sale that she was leaving. It was because of him. She thought he was finding a replacement because she wasn’t doing a good enough job, because he thought she’d leave.
She’d looked so defiant. Bristling but so hurt. Vulnerable underneath the spiky exterior. He’d wanted to prune away the prickles and caress away the pain. Pain that he’d caused.
She cared. More than cared. But was all that emotion because of her love for the job, or love of him? He hardly dared hope for the latter. He hadn’t done a lot to deserve it.
Daniel had never felt such insecurity. It wasn’t a nice feeling. And nor was knowing she thought something that wasn’t true. She didn’t think he believed in her? He smarted at the injustice. Why the hell would he have given her the job in the first place if he hadn’t? He’d given her the keys to the club, to his home and to his heart. Although she didn’t know about that last one. He’d only recently discovered it himself. And he knew that, Lucy being Lucy, there was nothing he could say to convince her.
His brain revved into top gear—this was one case he was absolutely determined to win. He’d prove beyond any kind of doubt exactly how much he believed in her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Intense emotions strongly influence you
‘WHY don’t you go and see him?’
‘Who?’
‘Daniel.’ Sinead glanced at her from between her legs as she performed some scary stretching exercise. ‘You know he’s been in the bar every night this week. Sitting there. Looking grim. Scaring away the customers.’
‘Has he?’ Lucy hoped she sounded uninterested. ‘You haven’t told him I’m here, have you?’
It was time she moved. Sinead’s sofa wasn’t that comfortable. And despite the fact they’d rekindled their friendship working together, Lucy still felt bad for imposing on her. But she couldn’t seem to drag her sorry self away. She took a risk and walked past the bar. Every muscle clenched when she saw the small ‘for sale’ sign in the door window already had a red ‘sold’ sticker stuck across it. It would probably have a name change and be turned into some karaoke bar. What did she care? That was the death knell. Because she did care and she couldn’t stay in Wellington with him here. She packed her meagre belongings into her beat-up blue car. She’d go to another city, get a job, earn money and open her own club one day. And stay single. For ever. Because she was never putting her heart in this position again.
She flipped though her ancient tapes and wished she hadn’t accidentally smashed her MP3 player. Finally she found an old one that she could cope with, jammed it in and turned the volume up loud. Her car spluttered up the hills and coughed round the corners. Nervous about its life force, she turned the stereo and air con off to allow all power to be directed to the engine.
She finally saw the sign for Martinborough. Wine town of the North Island. She’d grown up in the wine town of the South Island—Blenheim. She drove slowly, enjoying the perfect uniformity of row upon row of
vines. There’d be some work here she could handle—at least for a while. Sell some wine to some tourists in one of the many vineyard cellars, or waitress in one of the restaurants. Sommelier season—she’d done it on numerous occasions and had reams of experience.
She pulled in and parked along the main street. It was only eleven in the morning and a hot sunny day, but she felt tired and jaded and heartsore. She’d do the rounds tomorrow and look up old employers to see which one she wanted to revisit for a couple of months. She wasn’t up to a bright-eyed sell-yourself routine just yet. She went into the supermarket and picked up a couple of items from the deli and bought a bottle of water. She walked down to the grassy square where at festival time crowds came and enjoyed food and wine and conviviality. Today there were a few people dotted around eating lunch in the shade of the trees. She found a vacant spot and spread her jacket out, using it as a rug. She picked at the bread, cheese and salami and eventually gave up in favour of a lie down, closing her eyes in an attempt to doze.
It was a bad idea because all she ever saw when she closed her eyes at the moment was Daniel. All she felt was the memory of his body, his smile, his sparring…and his intensely perceptive eyes. She lay, eyes closed, daydreaming of him. Holding onto the picture of him at peace and laughing beside her. Inside her. Preferring her life in a half-dream where things were right and she was with him, to opening her eyes and the reality of being alone.
She swatted at the fly tickling her cheek. It landed again. She waved her hand again, opened her eyes. Looked straight into gold.
Daniel crouched on the grass next to her, his face leaning over hers, a blade of grass between his fingers—her annoying fly.
He looked sombre. ‘You don’t need me to help you sleep any more.’
She jerked up to a sitting position. Had she just conjured him up from her imagination? No, he really was sitting there.
‘How the hell did you know I was here?’ Had he put some kind of tracking device in her car?
‘I have friends in the force. They were keeping an eye out for your car.’
Worse than a tracking device, he’d set the cops after her. ‘That’s an abuse of power.’
‘You were lucky they didn’t pull you over and order you off the road, there was so much blue smoke coming out of the exhaust.’
‘What a waste of police resources. I’m amazed you asked them to do it.’
He sighed and flicked the blade of grass from his fingers. ‘I’m not here to argue with you, Lucy.’
‘Aren’t you? It’s what we do best.’
‘Like hell. This is what we do best.’
He pushed her back on the grass and planted his lips on hers in one movement.
Despite the force of his body pushing her down, his lips were gentle, testing her. She couldn’t stop her answer anyway. Pleasure, delight, sad longing.
He ended it just as it hit hot.
She pushed him back and sat up again. ‘Why are you here?’ She sounded defensive, trying to cover up her desperate desire.
‘I’ve got a proposition for you.’
Forget her heart accelerating speedway-style, this time it was as if he’d hit the blast-off button and her heart were the rocket rapid-firing to Mars.
‘What kind of proposition?’ Could he hear the way it was beating? She could hardly hear herself speak above the thump in her ears.
He was still for a moment. ‘I’m needing a bar manager.’
Job. It was job-related. Her heart slammed down to the heels of her cowgirl boots. Or would if she were wearing them. As far as she knew he still had them. So it was to the soles of her sandals that it sank, squashed.
‘You see—’ his smile was slightly self-mocking ‘—I find myself with this bar to look after and I need someone to manage it for me.’
‘I thought it had been sold.’
‘It has.’
‘So how come you’re still worrying about it?’
‘Because I bought it.’
‘What?’
His smile widened. ‘I bought it.’
She sat up, jaw hanging a mile open. ‘You bought Principesa? Why did you do that? How did you do that? Do you just happen to have half a million sitting in the bank or something? Did you just fancy a new business?’
‘I like it. I like being there.’
‘Haven’t you got enough on your plate?’
‘Probably. But I’m a man who likes a challenge.’
She clamped her mouth shut as she absorbed what he was saying. He’d bought the bar. And he wanted her to run it. She should be happy. She should be saying, ‘Fabulous, yeah. I’ll be there.’ But it was all wrong. Something major was missing.
She felt sadder than she had in all the days just past and felt the sting of tears threatening.
Sure, he still wanted her. But just as his bed mate? His sleeping pill in human form?
Not good enough.
She didn’t want to be his modern mistress. She didn’t want a casual agreement between two consenting adults. What was happening to her? She’d come over all fairy tale and knight on white charger and she wanted happy ever after. She didn’t want to be his bed partner for as long as he felt like it. Have him finish with her when he was bored and leave her working in his bar and having to watch him with other women. And there would be other women. She’d been wrong about him. Sure, he wore a suit, but in no way was he boring. He was so attractive. He was offering her the job of her dreams but she couldn’t do it. The price was too high.
‘Um. Thanks for thinking of me, Daniel, but I’m afraid I can’t.’
He scrutinised her relentlessly. ‘Why not?’
How did she answer that without giving herself away completely? She focused on a patch of the grass about three feet away. ‘Um.’ Help, brain, think!
‘Does it help if I tell you that I bought the bar because I believe in you? That I believe you can run it better than anyone? And that I believe you can stick at it?’
No, it didn’t help. Because she had no desire to stick at that particular bar unless she also had his heart well and truly won.
‘I’m sorry, Daniel, but…’
‘But what?’ he whispered.
She looked up at him then, compelled to honesty by his nearness and warmth. ‘It’s not enough.’
The expression in his eyes was not one of disappointment or anger. It looked a lot like victory.
Completely confused, she scrambled to her feet, wishing she could be bad enough to leave the remnants of her picnic and run, but some rules she just couldn’t break—no littering, for one. She stared at the mess of wrappers and didn’t know what to do.
He stood. Put his arms around her. A loose prison that she knew she could escape from if she wanted. If she had the strength. She took a half-hearted step away.
‘Tell me you don’t want to stay,’ he whispered again in her ear as his arms pulled her back to him.
She wouldn’t lie. Had promised. And he meant everything.
He whispered again. ‘Tell me you don’t want me.’
He knew. Oh, God, he knew. That she was his and that she was wanting to run away because she couldn’t deal with having him but not having all of him. Not wanting to live life in the shadow of a ticking clock.
He stepped closer. His arms tightened around her, the length of his body setting her own alight. It was a fire she couldn’t cope with any more. Catching her eyes with his, he wouldn’t let her break away. The old challenge. He spoke again, his voice low but clear. Heartbreakingly clear. ‘Tell me you don’t love me.’
She stared back at him in horror. Tears welling. The sob rose and she only managed to stop half of it escaping. She squeezed her eyes shut, tucking her head down and away from him, unable to do the same with her body because he held her to him so tightly.
His whisper in her ear crushed her. ‘Why are you doing this, Lucy?’
‘Daniel…’ Her voice failed as her emotion cracked open.
‘Tears? Not from you.
Not from my feisty, free spirit.’
But they streamed down her face as he kissed her neck, sweeping aside her wild hair, bending her back so he had access to her throat—so he could brush his lips against it.
‘I won’t let you do it. I won’t let you go.’
She felt shattered because he wouldn’t. Devastated because it wouldn’t be over until he said so. And she would live in the shadow. It would be slow torture. ‘You have to. Please.’
His grip tightened. His hand twisted in her hair as he held her face up to him. ‘No.’ His kisses moved across her jaw. Tasting her tears.
‘Why?’
‘Why do you think?’ His other hand slipped from her waist to her bottom. Pulling her hard against his groin. Hot. Hard. Primed.
‘You want me.’
He lifted his head. ‘I do.’ He kissed her cheekbone.
It wasn’t enough. It would fade. And she wanted more. So much more.
But he kept kissing. And talking. ‘I want to have you.’ He kissed the other cheek. ‘To hold you.’ He continued kissing, punctuating his words. ‘From this day forward. Sickness. Health. Richer. Poorer. I’ll always want you.’
She slackened against him. ‘Daniel. What are you saying?’
‘Don’t you get it, Lucy? I’m not letting you go. Ever.’
‘But you don’t believe in marriage. Or commitment.’
‘I’m thinking it’s an institution not unlike the law. Not perfect, but if we work within the system we can make it better.’
Her body started trembling, top-to-toe uncontrollable shaking that she tried to hold back, because she couldn’t believe what was happening. What he was implying.
He spoke again. ‘You can say it or not. It doesn’t matter. But I know.’ His arrogance endearing yet terrifying. ‘You love me.’
She stared. Couldn’t speak, couldn’t even swallow. The lump in her throat was that huge.
His smile broke into monumental proportions. ‘You do. And I can’t live without that love.’ His eyes gleamed, hot gold pouring out brilliant light.
Entranced, she gazed at him. Beautiful. Gifted. But a lover to whom she had no right—she wasn’t right for him. The full force of fear flooded her—love, doubt, despair. This was a mistake that might scuttle his career.
Mistress Under Contract Page 16
