Inconvenient Lover

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  Deliberately, she chose one of her formal business suits and pinned her hair up into a tight, smooth French pleat. She selected flat, plain shoes to complete the outfit. David could have his little victory but she would minimize his enjoyment of it.

  She glanced at her mother’s portrait on the way downstairs to the entrance hall where Hugh was waiting for her, then looked away. She was not like her mother. She had grown past that. She would never hurt Hugh the way her mother had hurt her father. It could never happen if she married Hugh, for he was like water to her fiery nature—he would ensure she remained doused and controlled.

  By the time they arrived at David’s house, her nerves were stretched taut. The trip from Numeralla to Seattle had been mostly silent, which didn’t help distract her from contemplating the approaching meeting. The few words they had exchanged had been short and she had been terse because of her distraction.

  Hugh pulled up outside the front of the house and turned to her. “Is something wrong, Anna? You’re very distant today.”

  She looked down at her lap. What could she say? There were so many possible answers. She settled for the truth—as much of it as she could give him, anyway. “I know David is your very good friend, Hugh but I think…maybe…I don’t like him very much. I don’t trust him.”

  Hugh rested his key ring over his forefinger and rocked it gently, thinking. “Well, it’s up to you to form your own opinion about him, of course,” he said. “But I think you’re wrong.” He smiled at her. “And if you give him some time and opportunities, he’ll be able to show you how wrong you are.” He patted her shoulder. “Let’s go in. He will have heard the car.”

  She gave a sigh as she got out of the car. Hugh’s response didn’t make it any easier for her. His utter faith in David’s good character was virtually pushing her into the other man’s arms.

  David was waiting at the front door. He had turned to rest one shoulder against the closed half of the heavy mahogany door, his arms crossed, while he watched them. He was wearing a white shirt and faded blue jeans which tightly moulded his powerful thigh muscles and emphasized the length of his long legs.

  She felt overdressed but was pleased with her strategy when she saw David’s gaze flick over her clothing and hair, before he turned to Hugh to greet him.

  He drew them into an enticingly cozy room filled with comfortable, overstuffed furniture, thick warm rugs underfoot and a large fire blazing in a correspondingly large fireplace. The lighting was dim, the curtains shut tight against the gray weather. Anastasia found herself drawn to the fireplace, to watch the flames dance and to warm her hands.

  “Sit down, both of you. Relax. Let your hair down,” David said from behind her. “Well, figuratively, in your case, Hugh. But Anastasia’s welcome to let her hair down literally, if she wants.”

  She kept her back to them and remained silent. He hadn’t addressed her directly and she wasn’t going to make his task any easier by meeting him half way.

  “This looks like you’ve set up one of your marathon gourmet picnics, David. Just like the old days.”

  “Something like that.” His voice was close behind her now. She felt his hands on her shoulder. “Let me take your coat,” he said, his voice dropping to a tone that resonated in her mind. She let him slide the heavy overcoat off her shoulders.

  “You may as well take your jacket off too. I’ve made it very warm in here so we can relax properly. And we’ll be lounging around too.”

  She turned to look at him then. “I’m fine,” she told him.

  Hugh was already sitting, reclined back into the corner of one of the two sofas that formed a right angle bracketing a large low coffee table. “Give him your jacket, Anna. You’ll just end up crumpling it, otherwise.”

  She looked at him, a little surprised. It was unlike Hugh to deliberately flout formality. Wordlessly she took off her jacket and handed it to David.

  He smiled, a warm friendly expression that lit up his eyes. “Relax. I won’t eat you. Contrary to whatever horror stories Hugh has told you about me, I only practice cannibalism during the full moon.” He crossed the room to the door. “Sit. I’ll hang these up and get lunch going.”

  Hugh patted the sofa as he left the room. “Come and sit down, Anastasia. You’re in for a treat, believe me.”

  Hugh was right.

  David set up a hedonist’s delight. He loaded a varied and entrancing selection of music and kept the fire stoked. The first treat for their taste buds was a chilled, fruity white wine, which Anastasia and Hugh sipped while David spread a feast out upon the coffee table. Oysters, both smoked and au natural, prosciutto and home-preserved black olives. A mound of the best Russian caviar and cracked pepper biscuits to scoop it up with. Leg ham sliced so thinly Anastasia could see the silhouette of her fingers through it. Thick crusty rolls of fluffy white bread and a cream cheese to spread upon it, or curls of yellow butter. A crisp, cold salad. Freshly cooked and cooled shrimp, so large each single shrimp was a handful, to dip into their own tangy sauce. Slices of mango and various melons, dusted with dill and with a piquant dressing drizzled over. And always a cold glass of white wine to wash each delightful mouthful down with.

  Anastasia felt the selection of food was somehow highly suggestive. All of it was best eaten with their fingers and they sat on large floor cushions around the coffee table, with oversized napkins and indulged themselves with whatever took their fancy. It was reminiscent of Roman feasts and the parallel constantly reminded her of other activities the Romans would mix with their feasts. The overtone to the meal kept her alert to all the various shadings of the conversation and she found herself fascinated by the interplay between the three of them.

  Hugh was more relaxed than Anastasia could ever recall. He happily sat cross-legged on his cushion, his jacket off, sleeves rolled up, talking endlessly and happily about subjects he rarely touched on, never once lingering on discussions about his work.

  David was the foil. He sat with one knee bent, his arm resting on it and ate with one hand. He contributed just enough to the conversation to keep it going, piloting it through changes of direction.

  And step by step Anastasia was enticed into relaxing, letting down her guard and finally, to lowering the barrier of discipline she had never voluntarily lowered for anyone.

  A little over three hours later, she sat on her huge floor cushion next to the glowing fire, her legs curled up beneath her, her shoes off. At some time or another she had unbuttoned a couple of buttons on her shirt, for air. Her tall crystal wine glass sat next to her, on the edge of the bricks making up the fireplace. The glass was filled with a cabernet and warmed gently in the radiance from the coals of the fire.

  “Dessert,” David announced.

  “I never eat dessert,” she declared.

  “You’ll eat mine,” David replied, with complete assurance. “You won’t be able to help yourself.”

  “I won’t?” She lifted one arched brow. It was a challenge.

  He smiled. “I prepared what I think is your favourite dessert—one that you’ll have trouble not eating. Of course, I already know what Hugh’s is. He gets his too.” He stood and walked out.

  She looked at Hugh. “Cheesecake?”

  “I told you he knows me well,” Hugh said with a contented grin.

  David reappeared with two dishes in his hands. One he handed to Hugh.

  “Where’s yours?” Hugh asked.

  “Host’s privilege. I get to watch you enjoying yours.” He walked over to the fireplace and crouched down in front of her. He held out the dish in his hands. “Chocolate Bavarian—rich, light and it melts in your mouth. I speak from experience.” His eyes sparkled with a devilish mischief. “Shall I take it away?”

  She swallowed as her mouth suddenly watered at the thought of eating it. Until now she hadn’t known what her favourite dessert was. This was exactly what she wanted to finish the perfect meal.

  “Okay,” David said, standing up. “Back to the kitche
n, then.”

  “No! I’ll eat it,” Anastasia said, holding out her hand.

  He grinned and placed the bowl into her hands. “Enjoy,” he told her and returned to his seat.

  It was wonderful. Each mouthful slid down her throat, a sumptuous delight. She finished the bowl and put it aside, replete and utterly satisfied.

  The conversation had lapsed for a moment, as it had done occasionally throughout the meal and no one felt the need to fill the silence. So it took a moment for her to look around and discover that both men were watching her.

  “What is it?”

  David lifted his hand away from his chin, where he had been resting it and said, “You look like the cat that ate the cream.”

  Hugh nodded.

  She looked away.

  “Why don’t you take your hair down?” David asked.

  Why not? Anastasia asked herself. She had wanted to for a while now, to remove the last restrictions to letting her physically relax.

  Hugh picked up the threads of the conversation again. “Angelique and Pierre Therion’s annual Ball is on in three weeks. Are you going to come this year, David? I was talking to Pierre last week and he knows you’re in town again…”

  After a moment, Anastasia lifted up her arms and began sliding the hairpins out of her hair, disentangling the riotous locks and letting them fall.

  David’s response to Hugh was monosyllabic.

  Anastasia looked around at him. He was watching her. She rolled her head back and gently shook it to let her hair fall properly, running her fingers through it. Deep within David’s eyes she saw a light flare, as they dilated. Their rain-washed gray color darkened.

  She felt her breath catch in her throat. David hadn’t moved a muscle but she saw the change in him. His attention had narrowed down to focus solely on her and she could feel a powerful wave of want radiating from him, reaching out to draw her nearer. Her skin warmed, then glowed, the warmth of the fire on her flank diminished under the rush of sensuality. Her lips parted a little, so she could draw breath and the air she breathed tasted thick and heavy with the charge flowing between them.

  It was then that she realized David had selected their meal with her in mind, planning a seduction of the senses rather than a physical plundering. And he had played her tastes and emotions so skilfully she had succumbed completely to the spell. He had reduced her to a dishevelled wanton, without a single touch.

  “Any advice, David?”

  David looked away from her and the spell’s mesmerizing quality was broken. She dropped her gaze to her lap, breathing fast, restoring her senses to order.

  “Sorry, Hugh. What did you say?” David replied. “I was miles away.”

  “And here I was, handing out a compliment,” Hugh complained but his tone said he wasn’t upset. “I was saying this would have to be the best lazy weekend lunch you’ve ever put on. You’ve outdone yourself, my friend.”

  “And the advice?” David prompted.

  “I think it only fair that the host who provides the hangover should also provide the cure. What would you suggest?”

  “Greta Garbo used to swim naked, morning, noon and night, summer and winter alike, in her neighbours’ swimming pools. That’s supposed to be a quick fix.”

  Anastasia looked up to see if David was looking at her as he spoke. It was just the sort of comment she thought he would direct toward her but he was facing Hugh and his expression did not change at all.

  Was this the blatant style of tactic David promised? She pondered the question as she relaxed again and returned to staring into the fire. She wasn’t interested in following the conversation between the two men. She’d rather follow her thoughts and feelings and wonder what David was up to. She knew without having to look around and confirm her guess that David was watching her every move and probably following her every thought.

  He had produced this mood in her and she wasn’t sure what his payoff was. Or was it simply satisfaction that he could successfully orchestrate her emotions?

  She knew she had to build better defences against him, or her battle would be lost before it had fully begun.

  She sipped her wine and rolled her head slowly around, stretching her neck muscles. The fire crackled and popped cosily next to her.

  Tomorrow. She’d start tomorrow.

  Chapter Seven

  David was pretending to work.

  He sat at his big desk, pushing papers around. The manager he had left in charge of his thriving home company had done the job he had been more than adequately paid for. David already knew the company was doing better than ever but he was cautiously checking the facts for himself…or trying to.

  Being distracted from his work was a novelty in itself. He’d never before had trouble keeping his mind focused. He normally enjoyed the challenge of problem solving and dealing with people. He had a knack for seeing inside them, knowing how they worked and helping them to use their strengths to greater benefit for all.

  But not today.

  His mind kept skittering off to the challenge that dangled enticingly in his subconscious. Anastasia.

  He recalled the little mental picture he had of her, curled up in front of his fire last Saturday, stretching sinuously. The image had kept him short on sleep that night and still had a way of slipping into the forefront of his mind when he wasn’t actively thinking of other things. He would be abruptly yanked back to reality moments later, forced to gather his thoughts together and act normally despite his racing heart and half-aroused body.

  The degree to which his plans had worked on Anastasia that day awed him. The power of her response to such gentle stimulus meant the potential of her response to more direct, more explicit probing could be heart-stopping.

  It was the contemplation of that potential that kept David distracted. He wanted to see her potential fulfilled and his agile, active mind was busy devising ways to achieve it, while more mundane work-related problems were left to sort themselves out.

  When the door opened despite David’s request to be left to work in peace for a while, he welcomed the interruption.

  Hugh’s face appeared around the edge of the door and David felt an extra glow of warmth. Hugh was probably the perfect antidote. He had a way of refreshing David’s enthusiasm—had been able to revive his spirits even when they were kids living on the same block, over twenty years ago.

  David waved him in. “Come and sit down,” he told him. “I’m not getting anywhere with this lot, anyway.”

  Hugh sank into the visitor’s chair opposite David’s desk, smiling. “I wasn’t sure I was even in the right place. There have been some staff changes here since you’ve been gone. I don’t recognize many people.”

  “Wouldn’t they let you in to see me? I’ll have a chat with my secretary.”

  “Oh, Joan let me in all right,” Hugh assured him. “I’d give my eye teeth to have a secretary as dependable as her. You wouldn’t consider letting her come and work for me, would you?”

  David grinned. Joan was a fixture and felt a strong sense of propriety over “her” boss. “I doubt I have much choice in the matter. You could try bribing her, I suppose. Everyone has their price.”

  Hugh managed to look both amused and rueful. “I’ve already tried that,” he said with a sigh, making David laugh despite himself. Hugh shook his head resignedly. “I think it’s something to do with women. Anastasia never seems to have the problems I do with secretaries and typists—Sally would walk through fire for her. I’m lucky to get mine to make me a cup of coffee.”

  At the mention of Anastasia, David felt his good humour check a little. A small part of his conscience spoke up, jabbing him with a pinprick of guilt.

  He stood up abruptly and Hugh blinked.

  “It’s stuffy in here. I’ve got to get rid of some of these cobwebs. Want to come?”

  Hugh grimaced. “On the boat? You’ve got to be joking.” He looked down at his watch. “Besides, I’m meeting Anastasia for lunch.” The p
rospect seemed to please him. “Why don’t you take one of your girlfriends on the boat with you?”

  For a moment his friend’s suggestion left him with a completely blank mind. He sank back down into his seat. Girlfriends? He couldn’t remember the last occasion he had taken a lady friend out anywhere purely for social reasons. There hadn’t been many who liked mucking about on the boat, anyway.

  It made him abruptly aware of the yawning chasm that was his personal life. Keeping the company going at home and getting the Shanghai branch up and running had completely filled his time for so long now.

  “You look surprised at the idea,” Hugh said with a grin. “You have taken girlfriends out on the boat. I remember you doing it at least once.”

  David shook his head, irritated at the idea that he might have become so obsessed about success. “I used to take Mom and Dad out a lot. They knew how to enjoy it without incessant chatter.” After the car accident that had killed them both, there had been no one left to claim any of his attention. His life had become the boatyard and the business.

  “What about…” Hugh frowned, trying to recall a name.

  David knew who he was thinking of. “Miriam?” he supplied.

  Hugh’s smile broadened. “I’m surprised you remember her name.”

  “It’s only been two years.”

  “That’s not what I meant, exactly,” Hugh said contritely. “I mean…well…you’re so single-minded and you’ve been concentrating on the business…”

  “You make it sound like a fault,” he responded, trying to keep his tone light, despite the sinking in his soul. Now even Hugh was hinting he was obsessed.

  Hugh shook his head, frowning. “No. It’s the way you are. You go after what you want. I’ve never known you to fail to get what you set your mind to.”

  “Meaning I’m selfish,” he interpreted, trying to smile. God, was he really that bad?

  Hugh’s gaze was direct. “Listen, if I thought you were selfish, I’d tell you, right?”

  He grimaced. “Yes,” he said flatly. Truth was one of the bonds that held their friendship.