Engaging the Enemy

by Susanne Bellamy

  ‘She…they didn’t know that?’

  ‘Gerald feared she’d be shattered. That’s why he agreed to sell the property to you.’

  ‘That makes no sense to me. He sold the building because Tr…Andie’s application was knocked back? Did he imagine she’d thank him for it? She blamed him.’

  ‘Oui, naturally. And he was prepared to accept her anger to protect her from failing.’

  Her father had underestimated her if he thought that setback would crush her spirit. His own anger fired up on Trouble’s behalf. ‘Doesn’t he realise she’s stronger than that? She’s not a child, she’s a woman very much in control of her own destiny, stronger than you or he seem to think.’

  Monique’s eyes twinkled. ‘You think I do not know this? She stood up to you, didn’t she, and you, Monsieur Mahoney, can be quite the ogre.’

  Baffled by her remark, he took a moment to reply.

  Monique’s lips twitched and she continued. ‘Seriously, how long did you think that engagement plot would stand up?’

  ‘You knew? Yet you said nothing.’

  ‘Certainement. Oui. It was entertaining to watch Andie try to pretend she was only trying to pretend to be in love with you.’

  Hope sprang in his heart. Monique seemed confident of her stepdaughter’s feelings for him. Perhaps he could convince Trouble of his for her.

  His Trouble.

  He smiled. ‘She’s never been a good actress.’

  ‘I think maybe she is. She fooled both of you it seems.’ She patted his shoulder. ‘Go. See what that husband of mine wants with you. Then we three are going to find somewhere for a coffee.’

  Were Monique and his mother right?

  Straightening his shoulders, he marched down the hallway, tapped, and then entered the private room. Andie stood on the far side of the bed, holding her father’s hand. Wet cheeks and bright eyes belied the little smile she turned on him.

  ‘De Villiers. Gerald. You wanted to see me?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll keep it short. The meds they’re pumping into me will send me to sleep shortly. Wanted to tell you both, I was wrong. About a lot of things.’

  ‘Dad, ssh, it’s okay.’ She stroked his hand with her other. A tenderness like he’d seen when she’d comforted Jordan settled on her face.

  ‘Andie girl, you need to hear this. Since your mother died, I’ve tried to look out for you. Stop anything hurting you.’

  ‘Nothing hurt me, Dad. I’m safe.’

  ‘I tried to — stop you finding out about the council—’ Breathless, he turned imploring eyes on Matt. With a nod, he whispered, ‘Tell her.’

  Trouble looked between him and her father. Anxiety furrowed her forehead. ‘What about the council?’

  ‘Apparently they were going to reject your application.’

  Shock stalled her response and she dropped her father’s hand. Seconds ticked by as she stared at him. ‘You knew? And you let us believe that—’

  ‘Monique just told me. Andie, I had no idea. I made the offer in good faith.’

  ‘Aye, you’ve always dealt in good faith, my boy.’ Gerald raised a hand to Trouble.

  She picked up his hand again. The hurt was evident in her slow question. ‘Why, Dad? Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I wanted to prevent you feeling you’d failed. Instead, we quarrelled over the sale and you stormed out.’

  Trouble choked back a cry. ‘And I said — oh Dad, I didn’t mean to say those horrible things. Oh God, I’m sorry.’

  ‘I know. When you were born, your mother told me never to let anything or anyone hurt you. That my job was to protect you.’ He sniffed, half turned his head and ran his finger under his nose, and then cleared his throat.

  ‘I went about it all wrong and I hurt you, lass. I should have realised you’re strong, like your mother. Instead, I interfered. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Is that why you sold the building, Dad? Because you thought I’d not cope with failing?’

  ‘I was wrong.’

  ‘Yes, you were. But I understand you did it out of love.’

  Tired eyes implored her. ‘Can we start over, Andie girl? Can you forgive your father for doubting you?’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive, Dad. Love makes us do strange things to protect those we care deeply for.’

  Trouble carefully wrapped her arms around her father’s neck. Soft words of love whispered up. Relief eased some of the tension from his strained face muscles. The cannula in his hand bobbed as he patted her back.

  ‘Mahoney, look after her for me. I know—’

  Trouble stood then swiped both palms across her eyes and damp cheeks, smearing her mascara. ‘I don’t need looking after. You’re the one in bed. Now behave and do what the nurses tell you to then we can take you home sooner.’

  ‘She’ll be fine, Gerald. She’s strong and capable of doing anything she chooses. But I’ll be here if she wants me. That I promise.’ He held out a hand to her.

  She moved around the bed and took it.

  ‘Good lad.’ Gerald sighed and his eyes closed. The machine beeped a comforting, regular beep.

  ‘Come on, Trouble. Monique’s waiting for us.’

  ***

  Trouble wrapped her hand around the coffee mug and sipped, then sank back into the deep cushions of her seat, cradling the drink close to her chest.

  ‘Winning my father’s agreement was just the first step. I always knew there was a good chance council would knock us back the first time. But then the costs of keeping the centre operating spiralled. We had more families through than we’d expected for a new service and no funding other than my trust money.’

  He frowned and replaced his coffee on the low table. ‘You were paying for everything? Why didn’t you apply for a grant to tide you over?’

  Trouble shrugged and gave him a wry smile. ‘Stubborn, I guess. It was silly but I wanted to prove we could do it without my father’s money. We were feeling pretty desperate by the time I tried that stupid stunt at the charity night.’

  He laughed, not sure if Trouble had shared the incident with her parents. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. The sight of your bottom when you chased those flutes across the floor—’

  Monique cleared her throat, a merry light in her eyes, and he remembered they were in company.

  Wryly, he grinned. ‘And then I showed up and tried to turf you out.’

  ‘Why did you pick on me for your silly engagement charade?’

  Surprised she mentioned it in present company, he looked at Monique. ‘I didn’t realise you’d told your parents.’

  Monique placed her coffee cup on the table. ‘Just me, Matthew. I had guessed something about your engagement was not quite’ — she opened her arms in a very French gesture of unconcern — ‘comme il faut, but the night your mother came to dinner, Andie was distressed so we talked about it.’

  His respect for Trouble’s stepmother increased. Monique had known about his blackmail and yet she’d been cordial toward him, and welcomed Ma into her home for their fake engagement party. Guilt for the trick he’d conned Trouble into washed over him. The ramifications were still rippling through their lives.

  ‘Only in passing. An interesting ploy that I hope you won’t make a habit of.’ Monique pushed her coffee cup into the middle of the table. With an exaggerated check of the time she stood.

  ‘Dear me, look at the time. I really must go home and shower. I want to head back to the hospital later.’

  Always the gentleman, Matt picked up Monique’s bag from the floor and stood to hand it to her. ‘If you have to go…call me if you need anything.’

  ‘I need to give you two time alone I think.’ Graceful in everything she did, to his surprise she winked at him. He grinned back at her as she embraced her stepdaughter. ‘Good night, ma cherie.’ With real affection in her eyes, she stepped up to him. ‘Thank you, Matthew.’ She kissed him on both cheeks and squeezed his shoulder. A mischievous glimmer crept into her eyes. ‘See you
in the morning.’

  ‘I’ll see her safe home.’

  ‘Naturellement. But which one?’ She tossed a quick smile their way then walked smartly out of the café.

  Trouble’s cheeks were fire engine-red. ‘I can’t believe she said that. How embarrassing.’

  ‘She’s French. She says what she means when it comes to affairs of the heart.’

  ‘Affairs? What on earth do you mean? More blarney, Mahoney?’

  ‘Trouble’ — he sat in the seat vacated by Monique, near enough that Trouble’s Daisy perfume insinuated itself into his senses — ‘we need to talk.’

  ‘Uh oh. In real life that would mean we’re breaking up.’

  ‘We are.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Andie scrubbed harder at the square, stained kitchen sink. Mahoney had released her from their engagement and she was glad. Glad she didn’t have to pretend she was in love with him, glad she didn’t need to wear his ring, glad the whole stupid, sorry charade was done.

  But the fantasy was over. Idle dreams and lustful thoughts lay shattered in the dust of the old building.

  Along with the heart and soul she’d put into The Shelter, she’d been silly enough to fall for Mahoney. Not that he’d ever know.

  Thank goodness he’d allowed her to exit their deal with dignity three nights ago. Since they’d never made the fake engagement public, she didn’t even have to pretend they’d broken up. Just as well. She sucked at pretence.

  His peace offering echoed through her mind and she stared unseeingly through the newly washed window above the sink.

  I don’t want to put you through any more pretence and lies. You’ve got enough on your plate helping your dad get well and moving The Shelter. You don’t need this pain-in-the-neck pretence as well. Let’s keep things open and honest between us from now on, Trouble.

  Just like that. She was free and she was glad.

  Really glad. She attacked the stains harder with the brush, scrubbing as though her life depended on removing them.

  Since their talk he’d stayed clear of the old pub. And her. His renovation team was on standby until The Shelter moved to Williamstown. Then they would come in and help with the removal of larger furniture items and heavy boxes.

  Could Mahoney be any more decent about — everything?

  And could he be more blind? He hadn’t cottoned on to her real feelings for him, even after kisses that shattered her composure, blasted through her defences and left her wanting him to hold her forever.

  Maybe she was a better actress than she thought after all.

  Jordan’s piping voice broke into her misery. ‘She’s washing stuff, mister.’

  Mister? Who was here and why hadn’t she heard the knocker? And where was Lexie? Sami? Why was Jordan bringing a visitor down the hall?

  ‘In here. I gotta go.’ Jordan zoomed off, airplane noises growing softer as his running footsteps thudded along the hall.

  She turned.

  Mahoney stepped through the doorway, tall and lean and so handsome she caught her breath. His gaze zeroed in on her.

  Warmth crept into parts of her body she couldn’t control.

  He stopped beside the table and shoved his hands in his jeans. ‘I see the welcome sign’s still up out front. Does that include me?’

  Her heart stopped, froze, and then thumped ten to the dozen. What was he doing here? She swallowed. ‘Everyone who needs what we offer is welcome, Mahoney. We’d be lousy not to feel gratitude for all you’ve done.’

  ‘I’m not looking for gratitude.’

  ‘Then what do you want? Have you come to check up on our state of readiness for the big move? We’re close.’

  ‘Great. So The Shelter will be in Williamstown tomorrow night.’

  And out of his life.

  Pain speared through her at the thought of not seeing him again. Even if they fought and argued, and if her heart was broken, how would she bear not seeing him?

  Toughen up, girl. It’s your own fault nothing more can come of us.

  Chills ran down her spine. Life without Mahoney and his lilting Irish accent and his hot bedroom eyes on her was unthinkable. She looked down at her rubber-gloved hands. They were the only warm part of her body as she contemplated a future without him in it.

  ‘Seb’s coming over with his team in the morning and we’ll get all the heavy stuff shifted. Lexie and I will be out of your hair then you can forget all about us.’

  And she could try to figure out how to fill the emptiness his absence would leave. She turned her head away and blinked rapidly. ‘So what do you want? We’re pretty busy right now.’

  ‘Are you happy with the new property? Is there anything else you need?’

  ‘Mahoney, you’ve given us so much already. The council bloke dropped in with the amended application for us to sign and indicated, since we were “in” with your foundation, that our accreditation would be through and the funding flowing within a couple of weeks. So no, we’re good to go. All thanks to you.’

  ‘Thanks to your hard work and enthusiasm. If only the other project managers who approach us had half your passion and selflessness.’

  ‘Don’t sugar-coat it. We could have been set up in Williamstown weeks ago if not for my self-centred absorption with doing it all alone. No thanks to me you’ve stuck with us. We’ll be eternally grateful.’

  ‘That’s the second time you’ve used that word.’

  ‘I’m sorry you don’t like it. Or don’t you like being thanked? I promise I won’t do it publicly if that’s what’s worrying you.’

  ‘Trouble, we wouldn’t be in this awkward situation if I hadn’t put you in an untenable position.’ She noted the rough-edged tones in his voice. Of course he regretted his silly charade but did he have to keep reminding her of the fact?

  ‘Or if I hadn’t tipped champagne over you. Be fair, I started it.’

  ‘Yes, you did. And I’m going to finish it.’

  He grabbed her, frisked her — there was no other word to describe the pat down he gave her — then stood blocking her retreat, his hands holding her elbows.

  ‘What was that for?’ Squeaky and breathless, she tried to calm her racing heartbeat. Would she ever get over the adrenaline rush caused by his touch?

  ‘Checking for concealed weapons, monkey wrenches, trays of champagne and the like.’ Hot male barred her way, his body holding hers captive against the counter top.

  ‘I’m unarmed.’

  He slid his hands around her waist, eyes gleaming in devilment.

  Heat shot through her body, sizzled where his thighs pressed against hers. She needed air. He was crowding her space, pressing her between his body and the sink. Cold metal pressed into her back and the smell of Ajax wafted up, almost drowning his woodsy cologne and that scent that was uniquely him.

  ‘Maybe I should give you your tool belt. Seems I have a burning desire for more Trouble in my life.’

  ‘You’re raving mad.’

  ‘I like flirting with danger. Mad you may call it but that’s what happens when you’re in love.’

  ‘Mahoney—’

  He kissed one corner of her mouth. ‘With you.’ He kissed the other corner. ‘And the name’s Matt, darlin’. You should know the name of your fiancé.’

  Could she believe him? Out of the crazy charade, could he have fallen for her as she had for him? Did she dare tell him?

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘Is there something you’d be telling me?’

  Like sun bursting from behind clouds after rain, she knew this was her man, her forever kind of lover.

  She kissed him, full and hard on the lips. Plastered to his front in a you-ain’t-seen-nothing-yet kiss, she showed him the best way she knew how much she loved him.

  Minutes or maybe hours later, she surfaced for air. ‘Matt, um, what has my tool belt got to do with, you know, being in love?’

  He chuckled, hot promise in his eyes. ‘When I’ve got
you alone, I’ll tell you exactly how you wear that thing. I’ve a yen to see how you fix what’s up in my bedroom.’

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