by Lexi Greene
“When did you last have a holiday?”
Tension snaked into her throat. “I don’t remember.”
“Don’t the partners force you to take time off?”
“Yes, but I go into the office.” She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and focused on avoiding the potholes in the gravel road that led to the winery.
“You don’t think that’s a bit obsessive?”
“I’m goal-oriented.”
“Why is partnership so important to you?”
She sensed his scrutiny but kept her eyes on the road, which was more suited to a four-wheel drive SUV than a prestige luxury car. She slowed her speed to minimise the dust. Every pothole grabbed at the wheel and the stones flicked up making her flinch. “I made a promise to myself and my promises are golden.”
“That’s it?”
She didn’t have to explain herself. She didn’t have to explain how being at the lowest rung in a law firm had taught her something about power and the importance of it. Maybe it was the way his voice resonated inside her chest or maybe it was the way his tone pulled at that invisible string. Or maybe it was because he’d called his brother an arrogant shit, but she found herself telling him the truth. “I want to fast-track my career and have a family before I’m too old.” Her history of painful periods and endometriosis meant she couldn’t afford to waste time, but Scarlet was determined to make partner first. She wanted the respect and financial security that came with it, and she never wanted to feel powerless again. What if you can’t have children? That was a possibility she refused to consider.
“What about a husband? Have you factored him in?”
“Not necessarily. I’m a realist.” She shifted her attention to a particularly deep pothole in the road. “Ah, here it is.”
The car park was empty, and she found a spot in the shade. The day was working its way towards hot and the scent of the eucalyptus trees was strong in the air. No sign of the engineer.
Scarlet cut the engine and sat motionless. She absorbed the sounds of the rosellas’ chatter and the shriek of cockatoos as they flashed between the trees. She breathed the strong earthy scent that rose from the ground and savoured the feel of the breeze, soft against her face.
“What about you.” She turned to observe him. “Why the urgency to become a partner by thirty?”
“Since we have a pact to speak the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and my word is golden…” His gaze held hers and she teetered on the blue, blue edge of it. Whispers of sadness lurked in the shadowy depths, defying the sunny flash of humour. “It’s important to my father.”
“And your father is important to you.”
“Yes.” He sounded surprised, like he hadn’t expected her to get it. “There was a strong expectation that I study law, but I saw what it did to my brother. I took a year off and travelled through India, Spain, Turkey and some other countries. I didn’t speak to my father for almost five years and I let him think I was overseas wasting my life, but in truth, I came back and studied. I surfed a lot and barely passed, but here I am.”
“But you resolved the rift with your father?”
“Yes. I stayed in touch with my mum. She let me know he wasn’t well. She wasn’t well either, but I didn’t know that until later.” He took a deep breath, his gaze somewhere in the distance. “With time, I realised law was in my blood and it felt right.”
“But you didn’t want to follow the same path as your brother?”
“No.” He glanced at her with a crooked smile. “I like to think I’m the black sheep of the family.”
“That’s not a bad thing, given what I know about Geoffrey. Shall we look around? The restaurant’s closed on a Monday, but Richard, the owner, should be here.” Scarlet opened her door and stepped out. She reached for the file and her notes from the boot and when Tony slammed the door behind him, she pressed her key and the roof slid back into place. She didn’t want any hitchhikers of the bug variety.
“I’ve heard they do a great Cab Sav here.” Tony’s gaze was on the bluestone buildings not far ahead. There was a manicured green lawn and a rambling rose seemed to cover the entire portico. It was one of those old-fashioned varieties and the pink flowers had a sweet scent that travelled in undercurrents beneath the stronger scent of the native bushland.
“We’re not here for the wine, Radcliff.” Scarlet heard the crunch of wheels on gravel and turned back. “Oh, good. Here he is now.”
A white Toyota Hilux pulled up beside her car. The door opened and a man in his mid to late sixties stepped out.
“Morning, Scarlet. And this must be Tony.” He reached out to shake hands. “I’m Neil from Gray and Associates.”
“Nice to meet you, Neil.” Tony flashed a mega-watt smile.
Scarlet inwardly rolled her eyes. Tony was the kind of guy who won a bloke over with a grin and a warm handshake. She stepped forward and shook hands. “Hi, Neil. Thanks for coming.”
“This was a nasty one.”
“Sure was.” They walked towards the buildings and two hours later, Scarlet realised Tony had gone AWOL. Where was he? She said her farewells to Neil and unlocked the car, storing her paperwork in the boot. She retracted the roof and turned towards the winery. Tony appeared around the corner of the restaurant carrying a box that jangled with bottles and his grin was wide.
“Perfect timing. Hope you don’t mind if we put these in the back.”
“You bought wine? How long ago did you ditch us?”
“I got talking to Richard and he was telling me about their latest award-winning Cab Sav and one thing led to another. It’s an excellent drop. I invested in a dozen. Maybe we should crack one tonight. No doubt, we’ll be working late.”
“Emphasis on the word, working, Radcliff.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves.”
He lowered the box into the back seat of the car and his grin created all kinds of havoc until the good kind of stirring in her body made way for the irritated kind. “Are you always this Pollyanna cheerful?” She plopped into her seat with a huff.
“Pretty much. No point being miserable.”
“I like being miserable.” She shifted her sunglasses further up her nose and revved the engine. No way would she tolerate friendly chit chat on the way back. She needed to think about the case and what they’d learned. She needed to keep her thoughts on work and resist the temptation of the man beside her. And she managed well until she saw the Bacchus Marsh exit and visions of farm-fresh fruit danced before her eyes. She glanced at the clock. They’d made good time. Why not?
Chapter Three
The perfect purr of the engine changed to a rhythmic kathump and Scarlet felt the steering wheel pull to one side. They’d made it through the township of Bacchus Marsh and had started down the Avenue of Honour, where beautiful old trees bordered both sides of the road creating a shady canopy. Scarlet slowed down and the vehicle limped to the side of the road. A flat tyre? “I don’t believe it. I’ve never had a flat tyre in this car.” Travelling with Radcliff was like travelling with a small rain cloud over her head. She shouldn’t have succumbed to the temptation of a detour.
“No problem. I can change a tyre.”
His chest expanded with manly pride and Scarlet stifled a sigh. The last thing she needed was to be stranded with Tony Radcliff. “No need. I’ll call roadside assist and get some tyre sealant.”
His brows lifted in question.
“The car doesn’t come with a spare tyre, Radcliff, so unless you’ve got some chewing gum handy to repair it, we’re kind of stuck.”
“No spare?”
“No spare.”
“At least we have wine,” he said with a grin and scrutinised the road ahead. “And I think I see one of those farm-direct roadside shops not far away. I’m thinking cheese, crackers, fruit… and chocolate. Dark chocolate coated orange slices. I wonder if they’ll have those.”
“Fine.” Scarlet pulled out her mobile phone and hit
the emergency number she had listed. “Maybe glasses too. I don’t fancy slugging from a wine bottle.”
“Your wish is my command.”
“Hah!”
He grinned and strolled away, and she couldn’t help but watch him go. The store looked to be one of the bigger establishments. Scarlet liked to support the local farmers. In truth, she came this way on her irregular visits to see her parents. They’d moved to Ballarat for a tree-change and she’d detoured a couple of times for fresh country produce. She loved the dappled shade from the avenue of trees and the orchards bordering the road. It was a workday. Her mind skittered to her jam-packed schedule. She didn’t have time for this. She had a mediation at two and if this took longer than half an hour, she’d be late. At least she’d prepared her notes before they left.
Scarlet dialled the office and asked her legal assistant to postpone the mediation until later in the day. She glanced at her watch and scanned the rear-view mirror for flashing yellow lights. Nothing.
She pulled out her notebook and plotted her argument to support her client. Richard had been helpful, and she now had a good picture of the situation. The worker had climbed onto the roof in the rain to fix a leak and the tiles would have been slick, but they were broken and missing in places, and he may well have tripped. She tried not to think of the high price he’d paid.
Her phone pinged and she scrolled through her messages. She was on to her fourth return call when Tony approached, a brown shopping bag in his hand. He waved two plastic wine glasses in the air with a mischievous grin. Scarlet wound up her conversation and with her gaze glued to him, said her farewells. Her pulse leapt—skittish—and she couldn’t quite temper the grin. “You’re a magician.”
“Oh, there’s magic in this here bag,” he said with a flourish. “Tell me you have a picnic rug in your boot, and I’ll love you forever.”
Scarlet toyed with the idea of lying. The thought of him loving her forever sat in her stomach like a too-starchy dish of pasta. Radcliff was a burr. A cheerful burr who’d burrowed into her peace and quiet with no apology. She flicked the automatic boot unlock and let him discover it for himself. She got out of the car and stretched out the kinks in her back.
He held it aloft and then bowed like a Shakespearean player. She had to laugh. It started low in her belly and bubbled up like expensive champagne. “What if the repair guy shows up?”
“We’ll pour him a wine.”
“You win.” She pulled the brand new, never used rug from his hands and released the Velcro tape. She spread it out on the grassy verge, ditched her heels and sat. “I don’t remember the last time I had a picnic.”
“Ah, but this isn’t just any old picnic. This is the platinum lounge of picnics.” He poured her a red wine and held it out. “Try this.”
“It’s a workday, Radcliff.”
“Try it and then tell me it’s a workday.”
She hated being told what to do, especially by a cocky man in an uber-expensive suit. She breathed in the earthy scents of black cherry and liquorice and took a small sip, savouring the full-bodied flavour. “You chose this?”
“Are you telling me you don’t like it?”
His cheerfulness was contagious. She should be attached to her phone while she waited for help. Instead, passers-by could be forgiven for thinking this was a romantic tryst. She leaned back, her legs stretched in front of her, her feet bare, her toenails painted pink. Tony lay beside her on his side using a plastic knife to cut slices of cheese and pile them on crackers slathered with quince paste. He passed over a fully laden one for her to taste. “What do you think?”
She sank her teeth into the soft, creamy cheese, the saltiness contrasting with the sweetness of the quince paste. Both complimented the red wine to perfection. “It’s good.”
“It’s better than good.” His grin was armed and dangerous, and his dimples blew her resistance to smithereens. He was nothing like his older brother.
“Okay, it’s amazing. Gorgeous. Outstanding. You’re brilliant.” Her heart sashayed against her ribs like a Burlesque dancer.
“That’s better.”
She eyed the spread before her. “There’s chocolate.”
“I know the way to a woman’s heart.”
It was a backhanded comment, yet the shadow of it erased the lightness that had radiated through her. He was a player. There was no doubt in her mind. He knew how to seduce. It ran in his genes. He seduced with every glib joke, every smirk, every probing question. The joy faded, the frivolity in her chest deflated and she took a sip of her wine to hide the disappointment. What did she care? It wasn’t like she was stupid enough to fall for any of this anyway.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She lifted her chin and took a deep breath of the fresh, grass-scented air. It was a beautiful day. A glorious day. And she refused to let him spoil it.
“You’re stunning… when you smile. You know that?”
“Save it, Radcliff. Your moves are wasted on me. I’m not interested.” Been there, done that with a Radcliff before, and she didn’t need to make the same mistake to taste bitterness on her tongue.
“That’s not what your eyes say.”
His eyes said plenty too, but she wasn’t listening. “My eyes don’t know what’s good for them.”
“That’s a pity. I kind of liked what they were saying.”
“Whatever you think they were saying was coloured by whatever is going on in your own devious mind.”
“There’s nothing wrong with finding a colleague attractive.”
“You’re right and I find you so attractive,” she mocked, her hand on her heart. “I can hardly hold myself back. It’s lucky I’m already sitting down because when you look at me like that? My legs go weak and my lips crave one taste—one taste—of yours.”
“Nice try, Scarlet.”
She grinned and took a large bite of her cracker, but her gaze snagged on the jagged edge of his and awareness sparked between them. His gaze lowered and lingered on her lips like a caress—a silky, soft caress that raised the small hair follicles all over her body. Her own gaze dropped to his clean-shaven jaw. Strong and square. Her hand tingled with the need to touch and the imaginary warmth of his skin. Her gaze travelled a sensual path to the velvety texture of his lips. Her own lips yearned in response. What was wrong with her. Not. Going. To. Happen. Ever.
“Wait.”
“What?”
He reached out and traced the line of her jaw, his touch lingering on her bottom lip. “You have a crumb.”
If her resistance hadn’t disintegrated like a puff of pink smoke, she would have swiped his hand away. If her body hadn’t caved in with his touch, she would have taken the opportunity to sink her teeth into his fine tanned flesh. If her body hadn’t been weak with wanting more, she would have scowled and scolded and stopped him. Instead, she fell into that cool pool of blue and her gasping lungs seemed to fill with water instead of oxygen. It took a moment or many before she reached for the edge, dragged her wet and bedraggled self out and growled in a tone of pure provoked bear. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”
His mouth tweaked at the corners and a wash of desire filled her—stirring her insides into a delicious spin. It coloured everything from the way he poured the wine, to the way he produced strawberries and fresh raspberries from the depths of his bag.
“They’re organic.” He picked up a plump, juicy raspberry and lifted it towards her mouth. She caught his eye and he thought better of it, throwing it into his own mouth instead.
Memories of his brother’s rakish charm rose like a ghoul and snapped her out of whatever spell he’d cast with his wine and his touch and his berries. The reality check was like a shower of ice to the heat radiating from her centre.
“What makes you think you’re the black sheep of the family? You went into law.”
“Guilty as charged, your honour, but I don’t want my children to grow up without their father because he�
�s at work. I don’t want to spend more time with my secretary than my wife. Or take advantage of a young receptionist because my life is dull beyond endurance.”
Scarlet physically recoiled. “Your brother’s behaviour was reprehensible.”
“It was.” His tone was cheerful, as if they weren’t having a scathing discussion about his older brother. “He and I are not close.” His gaze said a lot of things. For one, it said he didn’t like what his brother had done. Nor did he take his brother’s side, which was something. “Our father was never home. The pressure of his work took a toll on his health and his family, and I don’t want that. I don’t want success at the cost of everything that’s important.”
“You’re very wise for a… twenty-nine-year-old man?”
“I sometimes feel like I’m fifty.”
“Are you telling me that mop of hair isn’t real? A toupee?” Scarlet pretended to be devastated. She blamed the wine. It ran through her veins like an aphrodisiac and where before she’d found him marginally attractive, she now found him devastatingly handsome. She didn’t drink. With colleagues. Ever. She didn’t do work functions. She especially didn’t do end-of-year Christmas parties. Why had she thought a roadside picnic was any different? She had rules for a reason. Rules kept her safe. Rules kept her on task and focused on her goals. How had she let another Radcliff drive all sense from her head? She glanced at her wrist. PS. Pissed and Stupid. It was a message from her younger self, etched in indelible ink. She’d been charmed and wooed and weak. Never again would she feel like such a fool. She lowered her glass and reached for some berries, her gaze straying to the road. The quiet, empty road.
“What does it stand for?”
“Hmmm?” There were dandelions in the grass and the breeze stirred them, so their feathery tops floated and fluttered.
“Your ink. You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who gets a tattoo.”
“PartnerShip.” She’d answered without thinking and now she snapped her attention back to the man who set her heart fluttering like the roadside weeds.
