by Kim Lawrence
They weren’t to know that, although her family had the aristocratic family tree and the castle that came with it, they didn’t have any money, which accounted for the holes in the roof, the ancient plumbing and the fact she and her sister had always been expected to work for their living. Of course, it didn’t make them poor by most people’s standards but the man sitting there judging her was not most people.
Even at this table, where conservative estimates of all the guests’ wealth were eye watering, he was probably worth more than them all combined.
Her indignation fizzed hot under the surface as she fixed him with a smile of dazzling insincerity and batted her lashes like the social butterfly he seemed to think she was.
‘Oh, and how I envy the little people with their simple lives... I’ve even heard that some people don’t bathe in ass’s milk or have anyone to put toothpaste on their brushes for them.’
‘Did I say something to annoy you?’ His glance slid from her blazing eyes to her tightened lips and his body stirred involuntarily as he remembered kissing them, tasting her... The need to do so again as soon as possible made his body do more than stir.
She shuddered out a breath and their gazes connected. Chloe was aware that she was breathing too fast as she fought to escape the message that seemed to vibrate with a palpable force in the air between them.
‘You breathing annoys me!’ Too much honesty, Chloe, she thought, aware she had lost her moral high ground the moment the childish admission left her lips, but at least she was no longer thinking about kissing him, which was good. Taking a deep breath, she glanced around to see if anyone had heard her comment. Greatly relieved when it seemed they hadn’t, she directed a straight look at him. ‘Look, Tatiana is a friend and I don’t want to be rude to her brother.’ Or go to bed with him.
‘Or alienate a potential donor?’
Chloe realised guiltily that the sobering reminder was necessary. She was in danger of forgetting that tonight was about getting the charity off the ground. Tatiana had done her bit, inviting people with deep pockets who were sympathetic to Chloe’s aims, but the rest was up to her.
It was a crowded market; there were so many good causes around Chloe knew that she needed to make a positive impression on these people if she was going to make a difference.
‘True, and all donations are gratefully received.’
‘You already have Ana on board, so how long have you two known one another?’
‘She took an interest in my fashion blog, but we’d never met. We actually met in person only a year ago, a few months after the—’ She stopped abruptly, her lashes lowering in a protective sweep.
‘After what?’ Against his better judgement, her sudden impersonation of a clam made him curious, and, even though he knew on one level that this should be an exercise in exorcising his demons, he found he really wanted to know what made her tick.
‘After I got bored with it,’ she countered, deliberately not analysing her reluctance to discuss the accident with him. She applied herself to her starter, trying to simulate an interest in her food, which she couldn’t even taste.
Nik, who continued to ignore his own food, propped an elbow on the table and studied her. ‘So what do you do now, besides selling raffle tickets?’
‘I’m working to raise the profile of the charity.’
For working, Nik translated, she had probably arranged a charity fashion show or a masked ball, which was fine, but hardly enough to stimulate someone of her obvious intelligence. His dark brows flattened as he recognised but struggled to explain a sense of disappointment.
It wasn’t as though he had any expectations of her, and God knew she wouldn’t be the only titled socialite who didn’t hold down a real job. Maybe it was just that he was surrounded by strong, driven women. His mother was a partner in a law firm, who had raised brows when she had continued to work after she was married, and his sister juggled a successful career with motherhood. Ana might be in the fashion industry, but he knew that his sister would have been appalled if her daughter had thought being decorative was more important than getting an education, which made this friendship with Chloe all the more puzzling. He really couldn’t see what the two women had in common.
‘I don’t have my wallet with me, but I do have my chequebook and I am a dutiful brother,’ Nik said.
Before Chloe could react to the patronising undertone that brought a sparkle of annoyance to her eyes, across the table an elderly silver-haired Greek businessman began to laugh.
‘I wouldn’t be so quick to give her a blank cheque, my boy. If that young lady gets you in a headlock, she’s relentless.’
Nik elevated a dark brow. ‘I thought that was just a rumour.’
‘She’s cost me more than my wife.’
‘Which one, Joseph?’
The question caused a ripple of laughter around the table.
‘It’s all in a good cause,’ Tatiana said, patting his hand. The soft murmur of agreement that followed her words left Nik feeling excluded, as he seemed to be the only one who didn’t have a clue what the old man was talking about.
‘And what cause would that be?’
The rest of the table had returned to their own conversations and Nik’s curiosity was the only thing left to distract himself from the ache in his groin. Messing with the seating arrangements had seemed like a good idea at the time, but he really hadn’t factored in the painful strength of the hard throb of need, which was becoming increasingly impossible to think past.
Insane... When had a woman made him feel like this? He looked at her mouth, remembering how it had tasted, and wondered. Last night about three a.m. she had vanished from his dreams like mist, as she always did. What if he woke up with her in his arms for real? Would she and the nightmares be gone for ever?
Chloe shifted in her seat before looking up from her contemplation of her empty glass. Strands of blonde hair fell across her cheek and she brushed them away, puzzling at her own reluctance to discuss the subject so passionate to her heart. It struck her as ironic considering she’d spent the evening selling the cause, and in all honesty she felt she was pretty good at it.
‘Helping burns victims. Originally the idea was to raise money for specialised equipment for the NHS that under normal circumstances they can’t afford.’
It was the last thing he had expected to hear. ‘And now?’
‘Oh, we’ll still do all those things, but, in conjunction with that goal, we are also aiming to set up centres where there is access to physical therapy like physiotherapy, rehabilitation and so forth, alongside psychotherapy and counselling, plus the practical stuff like learning how to apply make-up to cover scarring and job retraining. In essence it will be a one-stop shop where people can access what they need or just come in for a cup of coffee and a chat.’
He watched her face change as she spoke and the animation was not something that could be faked. She was truly passionate about this charity. ‘That is a very ambitious scheme for someone so young.’
She lifted her chin. ‘I really don’t see how my age has anything to do with it, and I was always brought up to aim high.’
‘So you’re saying positive thinking works miracles?’
‘I’m not after miracles. Everything we are aiming for is achievable and I have the facts and figures to prove it. As for positive thinking...well, that is helpful, but there comes a point when action is needed. This isn’t some sort of game to me.’
‘I can see that.’ His admission came with some reluctance. He didn’t want to admire her; he wanted to bed her. Liking was not a prerequisite for compatibility in the bedroom. In fact, it was a complication.
‘So why this particular cause?’ he asked.
‘I met someone in hospital...’
‘You were ill?’ He visualised an image of her lying in a hospital bed and didn’t dare analyse the emotion that tightened in his gut.
She dodged his interrogative stare and looked down at her fingers, wat
ching as they tightened around the stem of the wine glass she held. She had recovered her composure by the time she responded, explaining in a quiet measured voice wiped clean of any emotion, ‘I parted company with a motorbike.’ The shaky laugh was less planned. ‘Or so they tell me.’
The how and why remained a blank to this day. In fact the only thing she remembered that might not have been a dream was climbing on the bike calling to her sister to follow her, and then nothing until the smell of burning and sirens. If it hadn’t been for her brother-in-law she wouldn’t even remember that.
She wouldn’t be here at all.
Some people needed their drug of choice to be happy, but she was alive and that was all the buzz she needed. The knowledge that life was so fragile had made her determined to do something with her life that would leave something tangible behind.
‘I hope the driver didn’t get off scot-free.’ The corners of his mouth pulled down in disapproval as he imagined her slim arms around some leather-clad idiot, her lithe body pressing into him.
‘I wasn’t riding pillion.’ It occurred to her that her pride was misplaced; after all, how well had the going-solo scenario been serving her so far?
The problem with being so independent was that when you messed up there was no one else to share the blame with.
‘So you like to be in charge?’
‘In charge? If by that you mean do I like to make my own decisions, then, yes, I do,’ she told him calmly. ‘It’s never been my fantasy to be dominated by a male chauvinist.’ Just a bit too much protesting there, Chloe!
‘You’re a risk taker, then?’
Holding his gaze and reacting to the challenge glittering in the ebony depths was about the most dangerous thing she had done in a long time. ‘I’m not the one who made a living dodging bullets.’
He stiffened, and their eyes connected once more. The shadows in his gaze belonged to a man who had seen far too much trauma for one lifetime. A moment later his expression shuttered and the change was so abrupt that Chloe was momentarily disorientated.
‘It’s a phase I grew out of.’
It was the bleakness in his voice that made her realise she hadn’t imagined it. For a few seconds she was back in the bar, turning without really knowing why and seeing him sitting there, the most handsome man she had ever seen or actually imagined. In the confusing mesh of emotions—attraction colliding with empathy—she’d felt the pain he was unconsciously emanating.
* * *
Dragging her thoughts back to the present, she extinguished the ache of empathy with a large dose of objectivity. You don’t need another cause, she warned herself, and you definitely don’t need this man.
‘So was anyone else hurt in the accident?’
‘Several people, including my brother-in-law, though he wasn’t then...my brother-in-law, that is. Apparently there had been an oil spill earlier on a blind bend and...it just happened. There was no one to blame but me and fate.’
He tipped his chair back to look at her, though it was hard to read his expression thanks to the thickness of his long lashes. ‘So you believe in fate?’
She shrugged. ‘I believe you make choices and have to live with the consequences.’
‘Well, you don’t seem to have suffered too many long-lasting consequences.’
He really had no idea. She struggled not to touch her leg again, and instead let her eyelids lower, shading her expression with her own long, curling lashes. ‘I was very lucky,’ she agreed quietly.
‘So what else do you believe in?’ He believed in very little and he found himself almost envying her her idealism, but equally he was disturbed by the idea that it might have been some form of this idealism that had first led her to his bed, or him to hers... Had she seen him as some sort of romantic hero or had it meant nothing to her beyond a rite of passage?
He wasn’t actually sure which possibility disturbed him more.
‘I believe in the resilience of human spirit, I believe that you should never take anything for granted and I believe...’ She gave a sudden self-conscious laugh, her eyes sliding from his. ‘I believe that I’m in danger of boring you.’
It came as a shock to realise that they had reached the coffee stage.
‘I’d prefer to be dead!’
The horrified exclamation by one of the female guests coincided with a lull in the conversation.
‘So what is it you prefer death to, my dear?’ The man to her right voiced the question on everyone’s mind.
‘Being a size fourteen!’ She gave a theatrical shudder. ‘Can you imagine?’
Chloe sat there and imagined what this woman would say if she saw the scars on her thigh. She knew full well that her reaction would not be unique.
‘She’s an eating disorder waiting to happen and the sad thing is she has a daughter who she’ll probably pass on her neuroses to.’
Anger struck through Chloe; while she might have agreed with the sentiment Nik had privately voiced in her ear, she doubted he had ever dated a woman who carried any extra weight.
‘So I suppose appearances don’t matter to you,’ she charged bluntly. ‘You’d date someone who wasn’t perfect, would you? You honestly wouldn’t care if your wife gained a hundred pounds or suddenly went bald.’
His brows lifted at the heat of her accusation. ‘That sounds rather personal. Were you an ugly duckling before you became a swan? A fat child with acne...or is that a wig you’re wearing...?’
She reared back as he went to touch her hair.
‘You switched the place cards, didn’t you? So you could sit next to me and drive me around the bend.’
‘You didn’t answer my question.’
‘You didn’t answer mine.’
He tipped his head in acknowledgment. ‘I have some skills,’ he admitted modestly. As he spoke he held out his hand and turned it over, extending his long brown fingers. Then with a flick of his wrist he produced one of the place cards from the sleeve of his opposite hand. ‘Distraction and sleight of hand. I have other skills.’
She compressed her lips and made a point of not asking him what they were.
‘Have you thought about what I said about you coming home with me tonight?’
She choked gently on her mouthful of wine before giving him a direct look. ‘I assumed you were joking.’ She was quite pleased with the compromise; it was a way of saying no without injuring his male ego.
Unfortunately, he didn’t appear to appreciate the favour she was doing him. ‘Then I’ll have to think of a way of showing you that I’m not.’
Her nerve ends tingling in response to the throaty purr of his challenge, she gave a little gasp and knocked over a glass as she bolted to her feet. Aware that people were looking at her, she calmly folded her napkin and dabbed at the damp spot on the snowy cloth. ‘Send me the dry-cleaning bill,’ she joked.
People responded to her quip with smiles and barely looked at her as she walked around the table to where Tatiana sat.
‘I promised to ring the palace to check on...’
Tatiana’s sympathy was instant. ‘Of course. Use my office if you want some privacy, then join us for coffee in the drawing room.’
CHAPTER FIVE
SHE LISTENED TO her sister, who spoke at some length on the joys—not—of morning sickness. It wasn’t until she hung up that Chloe identified the odd achey tightness in her chest as envy, but she refused to acknowledge it. Her sister deserved her happiness; it just made her aware of the things she didn’t have and maybe never would.
Catching the self-pitying direction her thoughts were taking, she got to her feet, but halfway to the drawing room she chickened out and slipped into the bathroom, where she spent a great deal of time admiring the decor.
Sometimes discretion was definitely the better part of valour. Hoping no one had sent out a search party for her, she waited there long enough to be sure that her arrival would coincide with people leaving. Hopefully she could slip away unnoticed without any furt
her confrontations with Nik.
She had just stepped out into the hallway when she heard Lucy’s voice and ducked back into the bathroom. It was instinctive and she felt foolish the moment she locked the door. It wasn’t Lucy she was hiding from, but that didn’t matter; it was the fact she was hiding at all that filled her with self-disgust.
With a sigh she turned, dumped her bag on the vanity unit and, palms flat on the marble surface, she looked at herself in the mirror.
Her face illuminated by the spotlights above looked pale and her eyes were too bright. She leaned in and touched the fine skin under her eye; the make-up helped but did not quite conceal the blueish half-moon, which was the result of a week of disturbed nights that had preceded her decision not to continue with further surgery.
The decision had felt liberating, she’d felt completely in control and yet what had it taken to throw that equilibrium into chaos? One single encounter with Nik Latsis. She made a sound of disgust in her throat and turned her back on the mirror.
She sighed. She hadn’t felt in control tonight, she’d felt... She shook her head, unable...unwilling to examine her emotions as she turned, taking care not to look in the mirror, and twisted the cold tap onto full.
She stood there with her wrists under the running water, waiting for her heart rate to slow, wanting to reject outright the idea that she was attracted to Nik Latsis. The lie would have been easy, easier than admitting a man like him would never want someone less than perfect, but she couldn’t.
It was a fact.
She turned off the tap, lifted her chin and looked at herself in the mirror.
‘It is what it is, Chloe.’
She made her way back downstairs, where the hallway was empty but the door stood open. There was no sign of Tatiana, so she decided to call for a cab before saying goodbye to her hostess.
She had started to punch in the number when a voice at her elbow made her jump.
‘Have you been hiding?’ Nik asked.
‘What?’
He was wearing a long tailored dark overcoat that hung open, his hair glistened wet and the same moisture glistened on his face. He had brought the smell of outdoors and rain into the room.
