Engaging the Enemy

by Susanne Bellamy

  Breath choppy, she wrenched her fascinated gaze from his and promised all sorts of unvoiced punishments if he did. She wouldn’t put it past him to try that line.

  ‘Now, stop staring daggers and slide around, me darlin’.’

  On the curved bench designed to seat two, Mahoney took up more than his fair share of space. Apparently absorbed in the menu, a smile tugged suspiciously on the muscles beside his mouth. His knee nudged hers. Was it deliberate? Was he trying to keep her off balance?

  Concentration shot to pieces, she sat very still. Needing to reassert some control, she pushed her cutlery further apart and spread her elbows wide in front of her. He wasn’t going to win this time. For added emphasis, she moved her water glass into the space between them. Crowding her was not going to work.

  His lips twitched. Casually, he moved her glass to the middle of the table and leaned across, proffering his menu. His forearm brushed hers and the hairs on her arm stood to attention. Beneath the table he moved, trapping her legs between his and the bench.

  He pointed at the entrée list. ‘Look at this — they offer oysters every way from fresh to Kilkenny. Would you like some to start?’

  Oysters? An aphrodisiac? Who was he kidding? She wouldn’t touch one while he was around. ‘They won’t be necessary.’

  He grinned. ‘Necessary to what? I happen to like oysters, don’t you?’

  ‘Um, ah, I meant no thanks. I’m not in the mood.’

  ‘They say an oyster helps you find the mood. Now wouldn’t that be nice on our engagement?’

  Andie picked up her glass and drank the last of the water. It did little to cool the fire burning within.

  ‘I don’t want to find the mood. I just want to get this over and done with. Why did you insist we meet here? Haven’t we covered everything about—’ She just couldn’t say the word. It stuck in her throat like a chunk of dry bread.

  ‘Our engagement? I’m starting to think you don’t want to marry me, Trouble. And sad I am if you’re thinking of calling it off. Especially when Ma’s coming out just to meet my fiancée.’

  Her hand flew to her throat. ‘Oh my God, she’s really flying out here?’

  Solemnly he nodded. ‘Arriving Thursday night, straight from Dublin. As soon as I mentioned the word fiancée, she was down at Isla’s shop.’

  ‘Isla? Who’s Isla?’ Andie grabbed at the last thing he’d said, the enormity of his mother arriving in a few short days too much to comprehend for now.

  ‘The local travel agent and Ma’s best friend since high school.’

  ‘How nice.’ What had possessed her to agree to Mahoney’s insane idea? She darted a quick look at the door but Mahoney blocked her path.

  ‘I thought we might have dinner with your parents, if that’s okay? Introduce the family and all. We can eat out or—’

  She bit her thumb nail. What would her father say? Could she tell him? Why did she have to tell him?

  ‘Can’t we just, you know, not mention that my father’s in Melbourne? There’s no real need for her to meet him.’

  ‘Haven’t you told him yet?’

  Her chest tightened. Why couldn’t she get past this stupid obsession with worrying what her father thought of her? She crossed her arms, hiding her left hand beneath her right arm.

  Mahoney’s gaze hooked on her chest but she dared not look down to see what damage her action had caused to her neck line.

  Distract him.

  ‘It’s not like it’s a real engagement.’

  His eyes narrowed on hers and he shook his head. ‘It’s real, Andie. As real as any other, just with an escape clause when it’s served its purpose.’

  ‘An escape clause? What do you mean?’

  ‘Your get out of jail free card, remember? You get to dump me.’

  ‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of it like that.’

  ‘Do you like that idea?’

  She smiled, easing tense face muscles, and nodded. ‘It’s not a lie. But given our escape plan, there’s no need to push it to those lengths. For goodness sake, meeting the family? I mean, that’s just plain silly.’

  ‘Ma will be expecting it. And there are — other reasons.’ He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Is the idea of telling your father so difficult?’

  ‘I don’t — see him much. I’m sure you gathered that the other night.’

  ‘There was a certain tension in the air. Andie, we need to make this as real as possible for now. And telling your father and Monique is the next step.’ He paused as though uncertain whether to say what was on his mind. ‘Do you want me to come with you when you see him?’

  ‘Heavens, no. Thanks for offering.’

  It was a kind offer. Thoughtfulness was the last thing she expected of Mahoney, even though he’d shown her that side of him. But in the context of their business arrangement, it seemed odd.

  Or is he protecting his investment?

  Cynical Lexie had rubbed off on her. Good. Maybe she was finally learning some street smarts. It was past time she stood up for herself. She met his gaze, nearly undone by the sympathy in his eyes.

  Business, Andie. Just business.

  ‘But I still suck at pretending. And I won’t kiss you.’

  ‘Keep telling yourself that, if it makes you feel better. ‘Tis certain I am that you’ll change your tune. So, shall we invite the folks out to dine?’

  ‘No, not out. I’ll — I’ll ask Monique if we can visit.’

  ‘Good. That will give me the chance to ask for your hand in marriage.’

  Alarm bells went off in her head. Control. Her father had no control over her hand or her life anymore. ‘Please — don’t. I’ve agreed. That’s all that’s necessary.’

  ‘What’s the matter, Andie?’

  ‘I’d just rather you didn’t.’

  ‘Okay. You’ll have to tell him we’re engaged though.’

  Of course she had to. But not yet. She hunched her shoulders and lifted her menu, intent on appearing interested in the choices. Appetite gone, the menu was her only barrier to his probing. ‘I will. Can we drop the subject now?’

  ‘Sure. Now about those oysters, want to share a dozen?’

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Last time you visited was to ask me to lend you rent money. Now you’re engaged to Mahoney? There’s a turn-up for the books.’ Her father pressed a hand to his chest.

  ‘Are you all right, mon cher?’ Monique touched his arm and leaned close, her eyes on his face.

  ‘Fine. I’m fine.’ He shook off her hand and her concern, his own eyes fixed on Andie’s face. ‘A Mahoney holds no love for a de Villiers. What hold has he got over you?’

  ‘Of course you wouldn’t believe a man might just want to marry me unless there’s something in it for him.’

  Her father snorted. ‘Of course he stands to gain something. A man like Mahoney doesn’t suddenly fall in love with a naïve young woman.’

  Knowing it was true and hearing it from her father were not the same. Implausible as their charade may be, her father’s comment made it impossible. Her stomach churned as doubt in her ability to see it through surged, vying with her father’s lack of belief in her. On balance, the latter was winning. Of course he still saw her that way. She was sure he’d never seen her as more than a needy problematic kid who blamed him for losing her mother.

  ‘To you, I’ve always been unlovable.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘When was the last time you gave me a hug? Can you remember? I can.’

  Her father shifted awkwardly in his seat and rubbed at his temple. ‘Why are you going on about this? Naturally I want what’s best for my daughter.’

  ‘What’s best? Show some feeling, some emotional attachment, even say the goddamn words, I love you.’

  ‘Words don’t change the way things are.’

  ‘The last hug you gave me was when you left for that trip to Vancouver.’

  He sat back in the chair, his mouth stretched into a thin line and shut his e
yes.

  ‘Just before Mum died,’ she whispered, barely managing to voice the words. She blinked away tears, sniffed and grabbed a tissue from her pocket.

  Quietly, Monique sat beside her with a comforting arm around her, reminding her that she was loved. ‘Andie, don’t say things you don’t mean. We love you. Both of us, and we want what’s best for you. Why your father said—’

  ‘Monique, enough.’ He winced. Light from the chandelier picked out furrows and a line of sweat on his forehead. Beneath his usual tan, his cheeks were grey. He hitched his left shoulder awkwardly and a different type of anxiety spread through Andie. Was he ill?

  His eyes narrowed on her face as he sifted through the puzzle of his daughter’s sudden engagement to his business rival. ‘Is this about getting revenge on me for selling the building?’

  The insidious accusation ended speculation about his health. It wasn’t a heart problem; her father didn’t have one.

  She straightened her spine, and her concern fled. ‘Not everyone’s like you. Revenge wouldn’t occur to me.’

  ‘Don’t waste your time. I don’t know how he convinced you to marry him but—’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be the other way around then?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’d have to have convinced him if it was about revenge. In fact, Father, it has nothing to do with you. No plotting, no grand scheme for revenge, nothing. The only reason I’m telling you is because Matt thought you should know. Oh, and his mother is arriving from Ireland and we thought it might be appropriate for our parents to meet each other.’

  Grey tinged her father’s face, or maybe it was blue around his mouth. Muted lighting in the reception room made it difficult to distinguish the colour but his sneer was clear. ‘That will be some meeting, Mahoneys and de Villiers in the same room.’

  ‘You keep on about the families as though there’s a connection. How could our families have met? He’s Irish. He only came to Australia as an adult.’

  Her father’s laugh was more bark than cheerful and then he lapsed into a coughing fit. When it subsided, he raised his glass of water with a shaking hand. He sucked in a laboured breath, swallowed, and then leaned his elbows on the table. ‘So he hasn’t told you then?’

  Her stomach clenched, an icy hand gripped her heart.

  Don’t ask. Don’t ask.

  ‘Told me what?’

  ‘Has he promised you can stay in the building if you marry him?’

  How could he know that? How could he possibly know that unless Mahoney had told him? What would Mahoney gain from the disclosure?

  Impossible questions rose like a maze around her. Each time she sensed a gap it only led to more twists and turns. How should she answer her father?

  He saved her the trouble of finding a suitable answer. ‘Buying the building back isn’t enough for him.’

  ‘Back? That sounds as though he had it before. How can that be?’

  ‘He did. Rather, his grandfather owned it. Lost it to my grandfather in a card game he later claimed was rigged. Mahoney’s been after me to sell him the place almost since he arrived in Melbourne.’

  ‘What’s the problem then? The past is gone. Now he owns it, and whatever he and I plan for it is our business.’

  ‘Just tell me, is he letting you stay there?’

  Unsure how to answer, she bit her lower lip. What could it matter if her father knew, or how he knew? ‘We’re staying. Once Lexie and I have our accreditation we’ll decide whether we’ll remain in the city or move out to a suburban location.’

  The giant of a man diminished in front of her and his shoulders slumped. Monique released her and rushed to her husband’s side. Murmured words were exchanged. If it hadn’t seemed so absurd, she’d have sworn her father muttered ‘Sorry, Rosie.’

  What mad impulse had him apologising to his dead wife? For not loving her daughter? Did he dislike her so much he couldn’t stand to see her succeed without his help?

  Monique’s frown eased as she addressed her stepdaughter. ‘We will welcome your fiancé and his mother to dinner on Friday but you should go now, ma cherie. Your father needs rest.’

  Numb to the core, Andie nodded wordlessly. What more was there to say?

  Her head throbbed. Knowledge was a bitter pill to swallow. Mahoney’s family had owned her building; that much she’d known. It was the reason she’d caved in to his proposal. But the fact that they’d been cheated by her grandfather put a different spin on Mahoney’s bizarre charade. Somehow, he was using her to gain revenge. And once again, foolish, too-trusting Andie had been conned.

  Only this time, she refused to be the pawn.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Andie wanted answers and she wanted them now. As the lift carried her upward to Matt’s penthouse, she gripped the chrome railing and glared at the changing numbers on the display panel. They seemed to climb in slow motion while her heart beat a rapid tattoo.

  How dare he use her and the families in The Shelter like this? Lie after lie had dropped from his lips. Even knowing he would stoop to tell lies to his own mother, Andie, naïve fool that she was, had allowed herself to be conned.

  The lift doors opened with a gentle swoosh and she stepped into an elegant grey and white marbled foyer. Barely registering the luxurious décor, she marched up to the double opaque glass doors and leaned on the buzzer. And waited. Too damned bad if he was in bed. She hit the buzzer again.

  One door swung open and Matt stepped forward, a smile forming when he saw her. ‘Andie. Well, this is a delightful surprise. Dare I hope it’s because you couldn’t wait till dinner with our parents to see your fiancé?’

  Her palm itched to wipe the arrogant smirk off his face. Instead, her fists clenched around her handbag strap. ‘I had to see you tonight. I need—’

  He’s wearing a towel. Nothing but a towel.

  Slung low on narrow hips, it revealed well-honed muscles that rippled under bronzed skin. He tucked in the end, folded his arms and leaned against the door jamb, waiting for her to finish speaking. Her mouth dried up along with any ability to think as she drank in the unfamiliar, glorious sight of his body.

  He took her elbow and drew her inside. ‘You need to spend quality time with your fiancé? Or are you hoping for more practice?’

  ‘Practice?’ She shook her head and attempted to marshal her errant thoughts. ‘No, at least not what you’re suggesting.’

  ‘So what can I help you with, Andie? Come in and sit. Would you like a drink?’ He led the way into a reception room.

  ‘Mahoney!’ Abruptly, she stopped and tugged her arm from his light hold. ‘Stop it.’

  He frowned but she shrugged and retreated a couple of paces.

  ‘What’s this about, Andie? Are you worried about telling your father? Do you want me to—?’

  ‘I’ve told him. And he told me about you and your family and our building. When were you going to share that information with me, Mister Mahoney? Tell me that.’

  ‘Ah, that’s what this visit is about. Look, I’m sorry, Andie.’

  ‘You can’t be more sorry than me. I knew you were a right bastard before I met you but I let myself be conned by your sob story about your poor mother. Do you even have a mother?’

  A muscle jumped in his cheek and his eyes narrowed. ‘Andie, I meant to tell you. But don’t push me on this.’

  ‘Like you didn’t push me? How you must have laughed when you found out who I was. Did you rub your hands in glee that naïve little Andie would feed your need for revenge?’ Anger at her foolishness surged through her, stiffening her spine.

  He rested his hands against his hips and planted his feet, and the towel tightened across his thighs. A spurt of lust heated between her own thighs and she pressed her heels into the polished wooden floor. His almost naked body would not derail her demand for the truth. ‘Well?’

  ‘Don’t do this. It’s not what you think.’

  ‘Who do you think you’re kidding? You bought back
the building your family lost to mine. I’m just the icing on the revenge cake. What did you mean to do with this ridiculous charade? Were you going to bide your time then publicly humiliate me when you dumped me?’

  ‘Look, I can understand your confusion—’

  ‘Confusion? Why you—’ Her nails dug into her palms as she fought against a powerful need to pound his chest. He so brings out my bad, mad side.

  ‘Wrong word. Okay, fear then, but I told you the truth. I’m not the bad guy here.’ He tapped his thumb against his chest and stepped toward her.

  Nervous energy coursed through her. He would not intimidate her this time. She stood her ground, pressing her finger into his chest. ‘Huh! You used my fear of losing The Shelter to suit your own purposes.’

  The muscle beside his mouth jumped again as he shook his head. ‘It’s not like that.’

  ‘It’s exactly like that. You blackmailed me—’

  ‘That implies getting something illegally. This is a business deal, pure and simple.’

  ‘Okay. We’ll call it a business transaction. So tell me now, truthfully, why did you ask me to be your fiancée? What do you gain from this lie, business-wise?’

  ‘Apart from my mother agreeing to come to Australia so I can look after her?’ He hooked a thumb into the top of his towel. The movement dragged the material lower, revealing more of the arrow of hair that led south from his navel. Her attention fixed on the dark line. Imagining the rest of the path beneath the towel, she swallowed and missed the moment when he moved into her space.

  She put out a hand to hold him back and met skin warm and smooth as silk. Without conscious thought, her fingers trailed across to the strong column of his throat. There, just at the base, his pulse beat rapidly in time with hers. Her breath hitched. All she had to do was lean forward, just a little, and she could press her lips to his skin. Taste him. Run her tongue up past his Adam’s apple and graze the stubble beneath his proud jaw.

  Her nipples peaked, sensitive to the pull of her satin bra as she drew a strangled breath. A tide of warmth rose in her cheeks — why couldn’t she control her reaction to him? She looked up as his gaze flicked from her mouth and collided with hers. Heat and dangerous longing spread lower. She swayed toward him, to the promise of his body calling hers.