by Tricia Jones
She glanced at Nathan, who was looking out across the veranda toward the sea. While he looked calm and relaxed, there was a tension in him, she could feel it. He was probably irked she had used her relationship with him to advance her business interests. In truth, it didn’t sit well with her either, but she was getting desperate. Her whole future was tied up in this.
Chloe was about to explain that to him when Nathan stood. “I’ll just go and settle the bill.” He handed her the car keys. “Wait for me in the car.”
Why the hell even attempt to understand what goes on in a woman’s mind? Nathan pondered as he keyed in his credit card PIN number. Just yesterday he’d had his mother on the phone, pleading her case for him to give Ryan another chance. Then Beth had called with the same request. Against his better judgment, he’d reached a compromise with them both, and he wouldn’t be swayed on that. What he’d never understand was what possessed either of them to defend his feckless cousin in the first place.
Now Chloe. He thought it would make her happy, the chance to stay in her cottage for as long as she damn well liked. But no. Here she was pushing him to get contracts signed so she could move into her new flat. Dear God, there was no figuring women. If he’d known she felt that way, he would have pushed through his original plans, not changed them with the express wish of making her happy.
It hit him like a blow. That was exactly the reason he’d changed his plans, despite his meanderings to the contrary. He’d wanted to make her happy. Didn’t matter a jolt it had set things back months, or that he’d upset the local council and some of his investors just when he’d managed to calm them down after the Ryan fiasco.
No. All he’d cared about was Chloe. More bloody fool him.
Thankfully, he only had a few more days until Beth arrived. He’d bring his sister up to speed, finish up a few bits of business himself, and then get the hell back home.
God, he missed it. Missed the simplicity of it. He had his work, his boat, the women who flitted in and out of his life. Once he returned to his Cannes apartment, he’d look back on this interlude in his life, this period of insanity, and laugh at himself. Laugh at his futile attempts to please a woman who’d done nothing but knock him back from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her.
Yes indeed. He’d laugh his bloody head off.
Chloe watched Nathan stride toward the car, his long, muscled body drawing several appreciative female glances from the terrace. Why hadn’t she just kept quiet about the sole agency agreement? It had put that frown on his face and the edge of tension in his shoulders. And why hadn’t she agreed to go to Cannes with him? Why hadn’t she prolonged this transient liaison with a man who made her think of things she rarely allowed herself to think about? Things like love and happily ever after. Things that built futures. Things that could fill her life with what she had once had—love, family, fun and…magic.
She couldn’t, she realised as Nathan slid in beside her, because the specter of heartbreak was, as always, lurking just around the corner. Waiting to pounce as soon as she felt content and fulfilled. As soon as she loved and was loved in return.
Chloe struggled to find something to say as they drove back to her cottage. Something innocuous to break the uneasy silence. Something to keep her from blurting out what she really wanted to say. Like asking him to stay, to spend the night. To tell him, yes, she’d go with him to Cannes.
“Did you ever regret taking over your father’s business?” she asked as Nathan braked to take a dangerous bend in the cliff road.
The breeze entering through the small gap in the driver’s window ruffled his dark hair. “Not really. I always had in my mind that I’d return to the Bahamas eventually, but then I actually started to enjoy the business world. It was the next best thing to a life on the water, making it so others could enjoy one. Living in the South of France gives me ample opportunity for sailing.”
“You still miss the sea, though? Working on it, I mean.”
“Every day, but as my uncle once said to me, life always provides you with compensations.”
“What are yours?”
“The pleasure of making something amazing from reclaimed land or renovated waterfronts. A successful business can be a satisfying distraction. You’d know all about that.”
“I don’t need a distraction, my life is exactly how I want it.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
Back at the cottage, Chloe pottered around her kitchen, aware of Nathan’s gaze following her every move. She felt strangely out of sorts, her mind churning. Had she been completely honest? Was her life exactly how she wanted it? A few weeks ago her affirmative answer would have been the complete truth, but now?
Now she wanted more, she realized. Things that couldn’t be found in a filing cabinet, or on the hard drive of a computer. Things that didn’t disappear when you locked the office for the night. She wanted a family of her own, people she cared about. She wanted a future, whatever it brought.
Perhaps it was just the strain of everything that was making her feel so weird and restless, and getting involved with Nathan on top of everything else had churned up all her emotions.
Chloe was popping cups onto saucers when his arms came around her, folding her back against him. All at once her senses shot to overdrive, pleasure skittering along her skin as his fingers slipped her hair aside and he sank his teeth gently into her neck.
“Nathan…” She meant it as censure, but it came out on a strangled plea.
“Chloe,” he whispered as his mouth skimmed over her ear, his hands sliding from her waist to cup her breasts. When she wrapped her fingers over his and tried to pull his hands away, he said simply, “Let me.”
She was powerless to stop him. Her eyes lowered even as she sank back against him. She could do this, she decided. She could take this for what it was. A diversion for him…everything to her.
She’d told him she needed no distraction, but she’d lied. Business was a distraction. Increasingly so. From him.
What compensations would life offer her when he said goodbye? When he moved out of her life?
Lost in her reverie and the delicious reality of Nathan’s hands getting busy, she hadn’t realised he’d slipped the hook on her trousers. His hand slid inside, cupping her, and she moaned softly. She wanted him so much, and she would have him—for as long as there was.
Later, when shadows fell across the white linen duvet with its pretty pink rosebuds, Chloe snuggled into Nathan. He’d been asleep for a while and she’d been listening to him breathe, staring at the dark lines and contours of his handsome face and trying to commit them to memory. He was such a wonderful lover. He seemed to know instinctively what pleased her, where to touch, where to linger. He was tender when she wanted, rougher when she needed. It would be so easy to just let her defenses down and allow herself to fall in love. Her heart stumbled around the word, because she could have Nathan, his body, his tenderness, his determined possession, but she had to stop short of loving him. She couldn’t afford to love him. Not if she were to keep her sanity. He’d told her in so many words she was a fleeting pleasure for him. A brief interlude until he could get back to where he really wanted to be.
Despite everything, she had feelings for him. Strong feelings. But she would deal with them. They would have to stop short of love. She would never allow herself to love him, to put herself in a position where that love could be stripped away. This time life wouldn’t knock the stuffing out of her. This time she would be ready.
Nathan shifted in his sleep, tightening his hold on Chloe as she tried to ease away. Arm’s length, she warned herself. Physically and emotionally.
Chloe jumped as the alarm clock shrilled. Her head felt heavy from lack of sleep, and her body…well, her body had little aches and pressures from a night of very memorable activity. She reached out but found the space beside her empty. She peered at the clock. Half past seven. He must be downstairs, she decided, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Makin
g coffee, she thought with a grin. Then she saw the note, anchored down by the clock.
Disappointment shimmered as she read:
Morning. Hope you got some sleep. Had to get an early start, shipment coming in before breakfast. Call you later. N.
Her gaze skimmed over the note a few times, hoping she had missed something. Like what? she chastised herself, skimming over the words again. Like, “Love Nathan”? She folded the note carefully and slipped it into the bedside cabinet drawer.
In the kitchen, she reminded herself it was for the best, and hadn’t she herself just decided to keep things light and casual? Arm’s length? Yet there was no denying the leap of her heart at the sight of a carefully laid out breakfast tray on the kitchen table. He’d thought of everything, even down to a hand-picked bunch of grape hyacinths from her garden.
It was impossible to stop the smile or the happy little sway as she stood in her bathrobe and fingered the flowers. The man was irresistible, and already she ached for him. Ached to feel his arms around her, the smell of him, the sound of him.
What time would he call? she wondered, waiting for her toast to pop. Would he want to see her that night? Would he stay over again? Would he ask her to stay over at his place?
Her mind still pondered those all-important questions as she braved the early Monday morning traffic jams. When she arrived at her premises a little over twenty minutes later, she only hoped she wasn’t still wearing what she knew was a stupid grin.
Oh God, he’d picked her flowers.
Meg eyed her warily a couple of times that morning, undoubtedly trying to figure out what had put the little jaunt in her boss’s step. By the time the phone rang a little after eleven, she had obviously worked out the cause of Chloe’s sanguine mood.
“Chloe, line one is for you.” Her grin was fierce as she leaned around Chloe’s office door. “I think it’s personal.”
Warned by the knowing grin, Chloe willed back the flush of pleasure on its way to her cheeks. “Thanks. Can you close the door on your way out, please?” She smiled despite herself.
“This is Chloe Greenwood,” she said, all formality and seasoned politeness as she leaned back in her chair and swung dreamily from side to side. “Can I help you?”
“I’m banking on it.”
Her heart gave a lovely flutter. “Morning,” she offered, feigning surprise. “How are you?”
“Pretty good.”
Chloe continued to swivel absently in her chair. Sometime soon she might get this stupid grin off her face.
Her wish came true soon enough. “Have dinner with me tonight.” There was something in his voice, she wasn’t sure what, but it brought her to a halt. “Chloe, there’s something we need to talk about.”
Not yet. Not this soon. She sat bolt upright, gripping the phone until her fingers hurt. “What is it?”
“Tonight. Seven o’clock. My place.”
Her feet and hands felt like blocks of ice as she replaced the receiver. How could it happen this soon? Last night he’d made love to her as if it meant something. At least as if they would be together until he left. Maybe that’s just how he was. Perhaps he made love to all his women like that—made them feel like a goddess while it suited and then just moved them along. Thanks, it’s been great, but…next.
She stood, not absolutely certain where she was heading, but before she could move, the phone rang again and she snatched it up. Pam’s dulcet tones swam in her ear.
“Are you sitting down?”
Miserable, Chloe sank back into her chair. “Yes.”
“Are you holding any sharp objects?”
What now? “No. What’s happened?”
“I was certain you didn’t know. I mean, I can’t believe you wouldn’t have thrown a serious fit over it.”
Chloe drew in a deep, involuntary breath. “Over what?”
At the other end of the phone line, Pam echoed Chloe’s deep breath. “It seems Poseidon Holdings is buying your cottage for a very specific reason.”
“Yes. As employee rentals.”
“Is that what you were told?”
“Yes. Well, not exactly. It was sort of implied.”
“They’re going to knock it down.” It wasn’t Pam’s style to prevaricate. “They were just waiting for old Mrs. Rawlins to sell hers, and now it’s all systems go. Apparently all three cottages are being demolished and the site used for a new luxury hotel.”
Chloe’s mind emptied for a few seconds, then began to buzz and whirl. She thought the stuffing was knocked out of her by Nathan’s call, but this was numbing. Why hadn’t he said anything about it? Why hadn’t he told her?
“Chloe?”
“Are you sure? I mean, are you absolutely certain?”
“Absolutely. I’ve just had Morgan Richmond in here looking over the draft contract for the house he’s planning to buy, and he told me. He’s on the council and he just dropped it into conversation. Said he was surprised you’d sold, knowing what was planned for it. Couldn’t understand you allowing it to be razed to the ground to make way for something like a hotel. Went on and on, I can tell you. Thought he was never going to shut up. On this occasion I was happy for him to waffle on—at least I could pump as much information as I could from him.”
Blood roared in Chloe’s head. A tight band of pain clamped around her heart. How could he? He knew how much the cottage meant to her. How could he not even tell her?
That’s why he’d said there was no rush for her to move out anymore, why he’d given her more time. There was no employee moving in, because he’d decided to demolish the cottage and use the land for his precious hotel. It would take time for the paperwork to go through, for permission to be granted. He could afford to be “Lord Bountiful”, make her think he was doing her a favour. When all the time…
“Thanks for letting me know,” Chloe told Pam in a crisp tone while her stomach rolled over and over in a nauseous rhythm. “I’ll check this out and get back to you. Don’t do anything more about the sale until you hear from me, okay?”
She thought Pam agreed, but it didn’t really register. All Chloe could think of was her beloved cottage being demolished. All she could see was the bulldozer ploughing into its walls, the same walls that had sheltered and protected her fragile self. The walls which had protected her at a time when life seemed intent on stripping away everything that mattered.
Worse, much worse, was the sting of betrayal by a man whom fate had sent to tempt her into opening her heart again. A man who had slipped beneath each little opening with quiet stealth and, having claimed every inch of her heart, had twisted and battered it to a pulp.
Her head pounded and her face burned. Tears stung but she fought them back. She would not cry. Not over the likes of Nathan Fitzgerald. Oh, dear God in Heaven. Not over the likes of Nathan Fitzgerald.
Fury catapulted her into action. She snatched her jacket from the back of her chair, grabbed her bag, then strode down the hallway into the shop front. She barked something about having to go out for a while, and headed toward the harbour. In this state, she didn’t trust herself to drive. Besides, she wanted all her anger directed to where it was most deserved, not at some unsuspecting pedestrian or fellow driver who just happened to be in her way at the wrong time.
Chapter Nine
Chloe scoffed as she waltzed into the light and breezy reception gallery of Poseidon Holdings. Nathan had set up office in a suite of rooms adjoining a banking conglomerate’s premises, and the prestigious building came complete with a sweeping, and requisite, view of the sea.
“Good morning, may I help you?” The young brunette, as elegant and sleek as her surroundings, smiled from the reception desk.
“I want to see Nathan Fitzgerald.” Chloe’s tone warned she was not about to be fobbed off with an excuse as to why she couldn’t.
A flicker of concern moved across the receptionist’s face, but her smile didn’t waver. “I’m afraid Mr. Fitzgerald is actually in a meeting right now.�
� She checked the large diary in front of her. “Did you have an—”
“I don’t have an appointment and I don’t intend to leave.” She drew another breath, ordered herself to calm down. It wasn’t the poor girl’s fault. “Look, I understand your position and I don’t want to be unreasonable, but if you could tell Mr. Fitzgerald I want to see him.”
“Chloe.” Nathan appeared through double doors to her right, steering a man and woman both dressed in business suits. His own dark suit fit his long, dangerous frame to perfection, a detail Chloe could barely believe she registered in her current red haze of anger.
She waited, said nothing as Nathan steered his associates to the exit. He was all politeness and charm, but his eyes, sharply circumspect, found hers several times.
“This is an unexpected pleasure.”
“It’s not meant to be.” She shrugged away the hand that reached for hers, and glared at him. His jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. An incongruous pleasure swept through her at his reaction. Well, she hadn’t even started yet.
“Come through to my office.” He caught her elbow, held it firm as she attempted to jerk away. She didn’t want him to touch her, and he knew it. The only reason her stomach rolled at his touch was because he was so damned arrogant.
His spacious office had a large walnut desk, leather chairs and a U-shaped sofa arrangement positioned to take full advantage of the panoramic views. Nathan, possessive fingers still firmly wrapped around her elbow, steered her to the latter, but Chloe didn’t sit. She reeled to face him.
“You bastard.” While her heart pounded a furious beat, a curious emptiness filled her chest. The speech she had rehearsed on the way over disappeared beneath the weight of those two words. But at least cursing him seemed morally more appropriate than hitting him, which was what she really wanted to do. Not that she was the one who should worry about morals.
Nathan stuffed his hands in his pockets, his expression stiff and unwavering.
