by Tricia Jones
Chloe drew in a long breath. “You don’t think he’s pulling out of the sale at this late stage, do you?” Her tone was firm, and she’d have a thing or two to say to him if he thought he’d do that. Apart from anything else, her finances were stretched to the limit. She needed the money from the cottage to finish renovations on the new premises. “He hasn’t changed his mind about buying Claybury Manor. I spoke to the sellers only this afternoon and they said he was pushing them for a completion date.”
“He’s not pulling out,” Pam said. “In fact, he still wants to exchange contracts next week, but he said it’s not so urgent for you to move out. It’s up to you, and he’ll go along with whatever you want.”
What she wanted was to be able to keep the cottage, but if she couldn’t do that, at least she would get to stay another couple of weeks.
Why had he decided not to use the cottage as an employee let? Maybe because it was more lucrative to use it as an investment property, like he was doing with Claybury Manor. It made more sense. He would get a far better return if he leased privately rather than rely on a subsidised employee rental.
“Oh, and about the sole agency agreement,” Pam said, bringing Chloe sharply from her meanderings. “It seems they can’t locate a copy of your bid.”
“I gave it to Ryan Richards. He said it was only a formality, as buying the new premises assured I’d be the only one in the running. He said I didn’t need to send another copy to their head office, because he would deal with everything.”
“Well, I’ve faxed another copy over to their solicitor as requested. By the way, David and I will pick you up tomorrow as arranged. Bob said he’ll meet us there.”
Bob Taylor was an old school friend and occasional escort. Not being of Bob’s favoured gender, Chloe always enjoyed his company. Which was why, preparing for the ball the following evening, Chloe found she was actually looking forward to it. The welcome absence of a certain male acquaintance—who, it appeared, was still in Cannes—was an added bonus. She hitched the ribbon shoulder straps of a floor-length dress of cocoa-coloured silk and wondered what Nathan was doing right at that moment. Probably off sailing with some blonde, some gullible woman sipping champagne and laughing at his pitiful jokes.
She glanced in the mirror and saw she was pouting. Enough. She had other, far more important issues to think about. Her finances, for one. Her savings were dwindling rapidly, at least on paper. Especially now that the full funds from her cottage would be delayed a few weeks. But it was worth the scrimping and scraping to stay here…even if it was temporarily.
Her hair fell in soft waves across her shoulders, and she’d stroked on eye shadow to match her dress. The faint dark patches under her eyes disappeared as she dabbed on concealer. Her disturbed sleeping patterns were due to the worry of moving, yet there was no reason to, not really. Everything was going well. It was tight, but the sale of her home would put her finances back on an even keel. It would still be a juggling act for a while, but her financial future looked optimistic.
Excellent sales figures and her exemplary business reputation didn’t hurt, and now with premises right on the edge of the marina, and sole agency rights, she couldn’t fail. Maybe she would retain her “Businessperson of the Year” title, and that certainly wouldn’t do her any harm.
Sliding her hands down the cocoa silk, Chloe allowed herself a satisfied smile. All that physical work on the new premises had paid off—losing just a few pounds allowed the dress to shimmer easily over her hips. Turning, she studied her legs peeking out from the long side slits. They looked longer, aided by sheer stockings and three-inch heels in the same warm tones as her dress.
She pinned double-pearl droplet earrings, then fastened her grandmother’s necklace—a thin golden chain with one tiny pearl teardrop resting at mid chest. She let her gaze skim over her image once more, pushing back the thought that this would be the last time she prepared for the annual ball in this cottage. She’d attended every year since her sixteenth birthday, always with her grandparents until they died. As her image blurred, Chloe sucked in a breath. This would be a happy night. Everything was going wonderfully in her life. She was in control and her future looked rosy.
Once or twice during dinner, maybe more than that if she was honest, her gaze travelled to the top table with its hand-picked dignitaries and celebrities. She’d half-expected to see Nathan there, but he wasn’t, and Chloe wasn’t about to admit that the little punch of reaction in her chest was disappointment. At least tonight she wouldn’t have to suffer his infuriating ways.
She didn’t actually like him, not really. All she had was an inappropriate dose of sexual attraction. What woman wouldn’t? He was a prime specimen of manhood, with his big hands and wide shoulders. That hair, especially the wayward bit that fell on his forehead when the wind caught it or when he’d been doing physical labour, helping her out in the flat. Then there was that scar and the smoky grey eyes with their dashes of blue, which only intensified when he was annoyed…or aroused.
“Chloe. I said, ‘Do you want to dance’?”
“Hmm?” Chloe dropped the tiny pearl teardrop she was fingering and turned to Bob. His laughing face shone out beneath a cap of dark blond hair. “Oh, sorry. Yes. Let’s dance.”
It was several dances later, as she laughed at something Bob said, when she saw Nathan. Her heart gave one almighty thump, then skipped furiously until she thought it might leap out of her chest. He stood at the edge of the dance floor, talking to the mayor. Her gaze clashed with his, and the punch of that sent her stomach tumbling.
Bob turned her in his arms, inadvertently cutting off her view of Nathan. God! How could a man look so amazing in a simple tuxedo? Probably because she knew beneath that exquisitely cut jacket lay hard, lean muscle. Knew it only too well, had hardly been able to keep herself from ogling him when he’d stripped off his sweater while working at her flat and all that muscle rippled beneath a close-fitting tee shirt. She’d felt it too, in his arms.
It seemed like an eternity until she was back with a clear view of Nathan, but disappointment washed over her. He wasn’t there. She warned herself not to search for him, aware that if he had some vantage point from which he could see her, she’d never live it down. Just imagine what pleasure he’d derive from having her look for him, and what that would do to his already inflated ego. But then she did have to speak with him somehow, if only to consolidate the new timescales on the cottage.
While she was tempted to mention the delay in receiving the sole agency contract in the hope he might push things along, she wasn’t about to make herself beholden to him in any way, and she certainly didn’t want him doing her any favours. Think how he’d enjoy that. She’d never hear the last of it. Plus there seemed something not quite ethical about involving him.
Casually, she gave her excuses to Bob and went in search of Nathan. She stopped here and there to share a moment with friends and colleagues, all the while keeping a lookout for the man himself. Perhaps he’d been a figment of her imagination, she thought as she crossed to the ladies room. Maybe some sort of mirage she’d summoned because she’d wanted him to be here.
The realization of that was heady enough to have her stomach dipping to her knees. She sank into one of the cloakroom’s pink-padded chairs, popped her evening bag onto the adjoining mirrored table, and stared at her treacherous face in the mirror. She wanted him to be here. She wanted to see those gypsy eyes slip lazily over her in this slinky brown number.
Heaven help her. She felt like going home and stripping off the whole stupid outfit. It was poetic justice for being so foolhardy as to let her guard down even for an instant. For in just that moment, Nathan Fitzgerald had slipped into her…head. Head, she assured herself with a nod, not heart.
She’d had a lucky escape and she should give thanks to some invisible power for saving her from herself. What was she thinking anyway?
Chloe reapplied lipstick, flicked her fingers through her hair and returned to th
e ballroom. The band was playing some serious rock and roll, and appreciative and enthusiastic revelers packed the dance floor. Bob was centre stage, throwing himself into the moment, as were Pam and David. Concerned they would spot her and pull her into the fray, Chloe headed toward a group of old school friends chatting on the other side of the ballroom.
“Buy you a drink?”
She spun around as fast as her heels would allow and faced Nathan. “I…I thought you were in Cannes.”
“Apparently not.” He smiled, ridiculously handsome in his tuxedo. “Enjoying yourself?”
Chloe trembled a smile, but even her lips were shaking. “Very much so. You?”
“Am now. How about that drink?”
Well, what could one drink hurt? She would keep the conversation on business, drink her drink, then make her excuses and stick to Bob like a limpet mine for the rest of the evening.
Nathan steered Chloe to a corner table where he ordered champagne from a waiter who appeared as if by magic.
“So, are you here alone?” Why on earth had she asked that? What had happened to keeping business the topic of conversation?
“I am, yes.”
“Did you manage to finish your business in Cannes earlier than expected?” Keep it light, she reminded herself, light and casual. Then maybe her heartbeat might just normalise.
Nathan nodded. “I had a few meetings to attend, and a rendezvous with Beth and her husband. Now that she’s back from her honeymoon, she’ll be taking over things here.”
Her stomach plummeted. “She’s taking over?”
“Next week.”
She had time to ponder the implications of that as the waiter arrived with their champagne. It meant he would leave. She might never see him again.
Her stomach dropped all the way to the floor.
When they were alone again, she tried desperately to think of something innocuous to say, but instead found herself voicing the only thing that seemed to matter right then. “When are you leaving?” Much to her horror, her voice trembled, but Nathan didn’t seem to notice.
He sipped his champagne. “I’ve a few things to attend to here, then I’ll head back to Cannes. We’ve projects about to start up. A couple are at a sensitive stage of the proceedings.”
The muscles in her cheeks wobbled as she forced an acquiescent smile. She shouldn’t care that he was about to leave, it was exactly what she’d been hoping for. Him out of her life before he did serious damage.
It was natural enough he’d want to go home, back to the Cote d’Azur. What better place for a man with the sea in his blood, his heart, his soul?
“Want to dance?”
He’d stood and was holding out his hand. Chloe, battling with a strange sense of desolation, merely stared at it. “One dance, Chloe. I’m hardly likely to devour you in full view of the residents of Cleeve Bay.” There was just a snap of irritation, a little edge of impatience in the beckoning of his hand.
Somehow she got to the dance floor, where he drew her against him. “I’m getting a little tired of you making me feel like some predator stalking unwilling prey.” Nathan’s gaze drove into hers. “While it’s no secret I’d like nothing better than you in my bed, I’ve no intention of achieving it without your full consent.”
Chloe tried hard to breathe, but it was difficult with those eyes claiming hers, his arms clamped around her, and her own stomach revolving like a fairground ride. Not to mention the dip of disappointment that had settled in her chest.
“I know that,” she managed, “and I didn’t mean to imply anything.” While he’d flirted, coerced and somehow tricked his way into her life, she had no doubt she could trust him when it counted.
“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”
Her lips quivered. “I just don’t need any complications in my life right now.”
“I don’t intend being one.” Fire smouldered in his dark eyes. “Would it be so bad to just enjoy each other? I’m not asking anything more from you than you’re prepared to give.”
Therein lies the tale. Just what exactly was she prepared to give? He’d just confirmed he was about to walk out of her life, which was exactly what she wanted. She knew she wouldn’t forget him easily, that she’d be a fool to let him sneak his way into her heart. Maybe she was a fool already. Somehow he’d done just that, she acknowledged as every muscle in her body tightened in protest, forcing a few inches between them.
One way or another, she was heading for heartbreak with this man, so why not at least have some memories to fall back on when he left? What they shared would be temporary, both knowing they lived in different worlds, both going into it with eyes wide open. No promises. No expectations.
“What exactly did you have in mind?”
This time when he pulled her close there was just an easy brushing of bodies, a slow slide together. The surprise of it was she didn’t feel in the least like protesting. Even when his gaze slid over her face then came back to lock with hers, she made no objection.
“I’ll leave the details to you. You have the control here, Chloe.”
Oh, she doubted that. Seriously doubted that.
She nodded reflectively, at about the same time something inside her shifted. Lighten up a little, she admonished herself. After all, she was an intelligent woman with her feet firmly planted on the ground. No way did she have to let her emotions rule.
Besides, Nathan wasn’t the sort of man who went all out to hurt people. He’d more than made his position clear. Any relationship between them was temporary. Simple enjoyment. He’d been honest with her from the start and she trusted him, she really did. Deep down, where it mattered.
She wanted to trust again, she realized. She wanted to open her heart to everything life offered. What was the point in spending all this energy fighting against something she wanted so badly?
He’d put his cards on the table. He wanted her. Temporarily. Until he left. Now he’d confirmed he was leaving, and something inside her warned she would forever regret letting him leave without experiencing what could have been between them. However temporary.
“I’m not sure where I’ll let this go.” She wasn’t quite ready to admit that wasn’t exactly true. That she wanted him so desperately she’d already made her decision. The realization slithered through the little crack of light beneath the barrier she was slowly letting fall away. Temporarily. “Maybe we could just try a drink and a dance, see how we go.”
Nathan tilted his head. “What about your boyfriend over there? Do I need to tell him I’m stealing his date?”
Chloe slipped her hand just an inch higher on Nathan’s shoulder. “Bob’s not my boyfriend exactly. Not in the way you mean. Let’s just say I’m not—his type.”
The smiles they exchanged held understanding. “We won’t have to punch each other’s lights out?”
“Not when he knows your intentions are strictly honourable.” She fluttered her lashes. “They are, aren’t they?”
The skin around his eyes creased deliciously. “Not entirely.”
When the music slowed to a drugging smooch and the lights dimmed seductively, Nathan tilted her closer. He slid his cheek against hers. “You know, there’s something I’ve never quite understood.”
The words brushed her ear and she let her eyelids float down, wanting to savour this as one of those memories she could lock away inside and remember forever.
“Hmm? What?”
“Chocolate.”
She eased back a little, shooting him a cautious look as his eyes glinted with amusement. “Chocolate?”
He tugged her back against him, cheek to delicious cheek. “The addiction to chocolate, to be precise. I’ve never fully understood it.”
“Right. I’m glad you’ve shared that with me.” She smiled, felt his in return, as her skin moved against the slightly abrasive brush of his jaw. “And why has chocolate, or its addiction, suddenly become so important?” At such a time, with his arms tight around her, the smell of him wafti
ng through her…
“Because I’ve just had an epiphany.”
“Oh, well, then. I’m really happy for you.”
He laughed, a delicious slow rumble of humour that echoed in her ear. “I now understand the addiction.”
“To chocolate?”
“Indeed. Want to know why?”
“I think I’m afraid to ask. But go on then, why?”
His hand moved against her back, his fingers digging in a little, gliding against the surface of silk. “It’s what you look like in that dress.”
“Chocolate?” Heavens, couldn’t she think of anything more intelligent than repeating the word like a parrot?
“Uh huh. Rich, smooth and darkly exotic.” He nuzzled into her hair, sending tiny shivers of reaction shooting through her centre. “Makes a man want to—”
Her face burned and the shivers of reaction became a full-blown tremor. She tightened her fingers around his arm, eased back. “You said you wouldn’t push things.”
“Nor will I,” he confirmed, looking suitably offended. Then he lowered his voice. “But right now, you should know something.”
“What?”
“Before this night is out, I intend to kiss you. Very thoroughly.” His gaze trailed lazily over her face. “I’d be much obliged if you could find it in you to kiss me back.”
She was watching his mouth again, despite herself. Oh, my, she wanted that too. Wanted that killer mouth of his on hers. When she swallowed, he grinned.
“Can I take that as a yes?”
“We’ll see.” She knew Nathan Fitzgerald was, once more, about to get his own way. Not that she was entirely displeased with the idea. In fact…
“Where are we going?” With her hand caught tightly in his, he maneuvered them through the dance crowd. “Nathan?”
Instinctively, she glanced toward her table as they swept by. David and Bob were deep in conversation while Pam threw her a meaningful smile and lifted her glass in salute. That, more than Nathan’s determined grip, sent panic surging through her.
