Devil in a Dark Blue Suit

by Robyn Grady

  ‘Whatever’s said, you won’t make a scene,’ he announced in a lethal tone.

  ‘I’ll be as cool as a cucumber,’ she replied, feeling anything but. ‘If they’re married or pregnant—’ she shuddered but accepted the unacceptable ‘—I’ll be nothing but supportive.’

  His tone was sardonic. ‘But you’ll be less than thrilled.’

  She straightened the drenched line of her dress. ‘I want my sister to be happy. I’m far from convinced Nathan Stone can do that.’

  ‘You’re condemning him without a trial.’

  ‘The media have done a thorough job of that already.’

  His growl resonated off the mirrored lift walls. ‘The paparazzi dig for sensationalism and if they can’t find any, they make it up. A wealthy young man is a prime target—’ his voice deepened ‘—as you’ve already made clear.’

  The lift door whirred open and she walked out ahead of him, lamenting, ‘Oh, the burdens of the rich and famous.’

  Devlin might have dematerialised and reappeared, he whipped around and cut her off so quickly. His dark eyes glared down at her, more thunderous than this afternoon’s sky.

  ‘You’re angry with me for kissing you,’ he said with frightening control. ‘I can’t regret doing it. I won’t deny I want to do it again, but I suspect that’s due more to mindless adrenaline than any charm on your part. But let me assure you, I won’t touch you again. I have my answer, so you can drop the snarky attitude.’

  With her blood draining to her toes, she could only utter, ‘Your answer?’

  His stormy eyes roamed her face before he yanked loose the knot at his throat and, after a tense moment, stepped aside.

  ‘You convinced me, okay? I’d always wondered. But, however it happened, whatever lay behind it, I should’ve been fine with you walking away. Case closed.’

  The crimson carpet tilted beneath her feet. If he hadn’t already walked on ahead she might’ve grabbed his arm for support. First he’d been charming, then seductive, and now fierce followed by dismissive. This latest reaction suited her fine. Her performance had turned him off. He wouldn’t touch her again, even if he wanted to.

  Shoring up her inner strength, she willed the light-headed tingles away and moved forward.

  Devlin rang the bell, ripped free his loosened tie, then rapped his knuckles on the wood. With no answer, he swiped his card and pushed in the door. ‘Nate, you here?’

  Eden followed him inside.

  With the air-con cooler in the suite, she was reminded of her saturated clothing. Her teeth began to chatter as she searched around the sumptuous furnishings, a foreground to elaborate scarlet and beige window dressings.

  ‘Sabrina. Honey, it’s Eden. Where are you?’

  Devlin scanned the room then strode to a polished timber table and swept up a note slanted against a tall vase of lilies. When his hand lowered and his face hardened, Eden hurried over.

  ‘What is it?’ she prodded. ‘What does it say?’

  ‘They needed to go out.’ He stuffed his tie in a pocket. ‘They’ll be back by five.’

  Eden held onto the table edge. ‘That’s two hours away. What are we supposed to do until then?’

  ‘Hopefully not kill each other.’

  They both must’ve had the same thought—to see if there was any possibility that their siblings might return earlier. She dug out her cell phone as Devlin dived on his. They dialled and, after a few seconds, both rang off.

  ‘Sabrina’s phone isn’t on,’ she said.

  ‘Neither is Nate’s.’

  ‘We could meet back here at five?’

  He tossed his phone and wallet on the table then, with a casual fluid gait, moved towards some adjoining double doors. ‘You go ahead.’

  She took an automatic step forward, then back. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To have a warm shower, organise my clothes to be express cleaned, then wait for my brother to arrive.’

  Eden flinched. Sabrina and Nathan might arrive before five. She needed to be here to support her sister. What if Sabrina were pregnant and Nathan’s reaction to the news hadn’t been all honey and roses? What if Nathan had asked her to marry him and Sabrina wanted her big sister’s blessing?

  Or advice?

  Spending more time alone with Devlin was anathema to her personal ethos—safety first. But what option did she have?

  Leaning on the table, she slipped off a shoe and glanced dejectedly around. ‘This is a big place. We don’t exactly need to bump into each other.’

  With his frame filling the doorway, Devlin rotated to face her, his smile a combination of blatant sex appeal and ice. ‘Rest assured, Eden, I’ll make a point of it.’

  The bedroom door slapped shut.

  Devlin strode into the enormous bedroom suite and slashed both sets of fingers through his hair.

  Damnation! That woman could get under his skin—even when he knew darn well her threat had been an empty one.

  She might be determined and dedicated—she wanted what she thought was best for her sister—but Eden wasn’t without scruples. Whether or not she bought into the beat-ups that depicted Nate as some kind of amoral hotshot playboy, she wouldn’t call the media hounds out simply because big brother had skipped the double talk and gone straight to the heart of the matter. Or was Eden forgetting that she’d kissed him back?

  Cocking a brow, he released a cufflink.

  Boy, had she kissed him back.

  Which finally gave him closure on his long-unanswered question.

  Eden was still attracted to him—at least physically, he amended, crossing the room. She hadn’t returned his calls three years ago, but not because she hadn’t wanted to. She’d seen the writing on the wall and had decided to walk before he’d done the walking.

  Unbuttoning his shirt, Devlin sank onto the edge of the king-sized bed and heeled off his sodden shoes.

  She’d been wrong. He hadn’t been about to cut her off—even if he could admit now that, yes, perhaps he had contemplated cooling things a degree or two. After diamond rings, a woman wanted wedding bands. He hadn’t been ready for a stroll down the aisle.

  His position hadn’t changed.

  His father had married too soon and had never accepted his family-man status. As a tyke, Devlin hadn’t understood why his dad stayed late at the office every night. ‘He’s a busy man,’ his mother would say gently when she tucked her little son in. ‘Go to sleep now. You’ll see Daddy tomorrow.’

  Devlin had thought his mother the most beautiful woman on earth. Who could blame his father for jumping the gun and sweeping her off to the chapel? A quietly spoken angel with a warm loving smile who, as far as a young Devlin could tell, existed in a separate world he was rarely able to penetrate.

  When Nate had come along, the boys had kept each other company while their mother had spent more and more time alone, usually in a darkened room. ‘I have a migraine,’ she’d tell the nanny. ‘Make sure the boys do their homework before going to bed.’

  Headaches? Or had his mother simply hidden away from more companionless days while her husband’s days—and nights—were splashed across the tabloid pages?

  Grunting, Devlin discarded his shirt.

  His father had not only married too soon, his father shouldn’t have married at all.

  But, the past was past, he reminded himself, grabbing the side table’s receiver and punching in Housekeeping’s number. He and Nate hadn’t even discussed their less-than-perfect upbringing, although his brother must’ve felt the same unhealthy undercurrent in the family dynamics. That was why, if this afternoon’s meeting was in honour of a quickie marriage, the maths didn’t add up. Or was it as Eden suspected and Nate had gone and got his girl pregnant?

  Having organised for his clothes to be collected, Devlin stripped off his trousers and stood face up under a strong steamy shower for five revitalising minutes. He was lashing a towel around his hips when the doorbell sounded. Shoving his wet clothes into an in-house laund
ry bag, he strode out of the bedroom and headed for the door.

  ‘Hold up!’

  At Eden’s voice, he wheeled back and drank in the pulse-racing sight—diminutive Eden draped in a thick oversized courtesy robe, a white towel turbaned on her head, Leaning-Tower-of-Pisa style. What he could see of her bare legs revealed tanned silky-smooth skin. Each perfect toenail was painted a provocative red. Her heart-shaped face was scrubbed clean of make-up and as his gaze licked her lips—pink and full—he swore he tasted the raw honey he’d sampled earlier in the rain.

  Wild and wickedly sweet.

  Bare feet sinking into the plush white carpet, she presented her own laundry bag.

  ‘Here’s mine.’ She waited for his response, then slanted her head, catching the toppling turban. ‘Devlin, are you going to get the door?’

  He couldn’t tear his gaze from her mouth. And more than the mere sight of her sparked his imagination. The way she smelled didn’t help one bit—fresh…natural.

  Good enough to eat.

  Devlin flexed his free hand and, suppressing a groan, swung open the door.

  They needed to get their clothes back—fast.

  A lanky bell-hop took both bags. ‘When do you want these back, sir?’

  ‘Yesterday,’ Devlin growled under an overload of frustration, ‘and hurry up.’

  The boy’s eyes popped. ‘I’m, er, not sure that…’

  ‘He means as soon as humanly possible,’ Eden explained amenably.

  The boy’s mouth twitched on a nervous smile. ‘Within the hour, okay, ma’am?’

  She reached to close the door. ‘That’ll be fine.’

  Alone again, they eyed each other as white-hot energy buzzed and skipped between them. Compressing her lips into a determined line, Eden wrapped the bulky robe more firmly over her breasts. As if that weren’t enough, she yanked on her robe’s sash.

  ‘Pull that sash any tighter,’ he said, forcing himself to stroll away, ‘and you’ll cut off your circulation.’

  She made an indignant sound. ‘At least I’m not parading around, showing off my bare chest.’

  Folding his arms—accentuating that chest—he rotated back. ‘My body bothers you?’

  Best he could remember her favourite game had been trailing the tip of her tongue down his centre, reaching the toe-curling point where she’d run a slow circle around his navel. Then she’d climb again, drawing a wet line around each of his nipples while raking her nails down his shoulders and sides. Driven out of his mind, he would finally roll and pin her beneath him. Then it was his turn to play.

  Perhaps Eden had read his eyes—had guessed his smouldering thoughts—because her cheeks pinked up more and she shrank away.

  ‘You could stride around buck naked,’ she declared, pulling that sash again, ‘and it wouldn’t make a scrap of difference to me.’

  He coughed a dry laugh. ‘You’re so certain.’

  She strolled towards the enormous semi-circular lounge. ‘I won’t dignify that with a response.’

  ‘Then maybe we should put your assertion to the test.’

  She swung back, fear and dreaded desire shining in her eyes. ‘I warned you, Devlin. Don’t try to rattle me.’

  One side of his mouth curved up. ‘Rattle wasn’t the word that sprang to mind.’

  After sauntering past her, he swallowed a self-admonishing groan and clamped his eyes shut.

  She was doing it again. Getting under his skin. Making him want her without even trying. But, no matter how strong the tug, sex—and anything remotely connected to the act—was off the table. They’d failed once. Neither of them needed to repeat history. Diamond rings and Devlin Stone were a no-go zone. Unfortunately they were stuck here together, alone, until Nate and his girlfriend arrived.

  Halfway back to the bedroom, Devlin’s gait faltered.

  Important news…big news…

  What if this announcement wasn’t marriage or a baby, but rather an engagement? There’d be wedding rehearsals, the ceremony, speeches and playing happy families. Which meant he and Eden would need to shelve their sparring gloves for an extended period, even if the truce was all show.

  This short stint of forced proximity might only be the beginning.

  Rubbing the ache at his temple, he angled back.

  ‘Eden, I have a proposition.’

  She stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, arms ravelled tightly before her, glaring out at Sydney’s spectacular cityscape, the sleek arched line of the Harbour Bridge to the left.

  ‘If it involves playing strip poker until the kids arrive,’ she said to the view, ‘count me out.’

  ‘Strip poker hadn’t crossed my mind.’ Although now she’d mentioned it…

  He smothered the idea and cleared his throat. ‘I want to put something to you, something that’ll be in the best interests of your sister and my brother.’

  Her wary gaze slid over. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Whatever’s coming, we need to be supportive.’

  After a thoughtful moment, she sighed and dragged the towel turban from her head. ‘Agreed.’

  ‘We won’t seem too supportive if we can’t speak to each other without reaching for the closest poison-tipped spear.’

  Her teeth worried her plump lower lip before she absently finger-combed her wet hair and draped the towel over a chair. ‘I guess not.’

  ‘Let’s at least try to get along for Sabrina and Nate’s sake. Surely it’s not that difficult. We’re mature adults.’

  ‘Well, I am.’ She grimaced. ‘Sorry. You’re right. This won’t do.’ She sent a brave smile. ‘I’m more than happy to put our differences aside and play nice for their sake.’

  Exhaling, he put out his hand. ‘Deal?’

  She stepped forward. ‘Deal.’

  He took her hand. The sizzle, crackling up the cords of his arm, was the same high-voltage zap he’d enjoyed earlier when his mouth had claimed hers. When the charge reached his shoulder, crackle turned to burn, racing through his system and hitting him hard where his blood already blazed and beat.

  Her eyes flashed, her breath audibly hitched. Their fingers were as good as fused, but if he didn’t let go soon they’d both be in big trouble.

  If he didn’t know there’d be lasting repercussions—if he didn’t know he’d regret it—he’d make love to Eden in a heartbeat. But, even if by some miracle she agreed to succumb and satisfy this rabid sexual urge, becoming involved again wasn’t worth the drama.

  Was it?

  An unconscious primal impulse tightened his grip before he pried his fingers from hers. He needed to put them somewhere; his hands went to his pockets.

  He shot a glance south.

  Right. He wasn’t wearing trousers. More to the point, neither he nor Eden were wearing clothes. One towel, one robe, stood between him and a woman whose thrall, near or far, refused to cut him free.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he tossed a look around.

  Man, he needed a drink.

  Striding to the granite wet bar, he swung down a couple of wine glasses hanging from their overhead rack. ‘Want a drink?’

  His throat felt drier than the Simpson.

  She replied, ‘I really don’t think that’s such a good—’

  His gaze shot to hers and she sucked back the retort at the same time her features softened with a convivial, almost understanding smile that said if he was fighting so hard to keep this platonic—friendly but impersonal—so would she.

  ‘That would be nice, Devlin. Thank you.’

  Opening the fridge, he reached for champagne. Then, remembering the unfinished Cristal, he uncorked and poured domestic Chardonnay instead. A lifetime ago, champagne had been their drink. Eden would drop a strawberry into her glass and when the bubbles were gone, she’d share her fruit—one bite for her, one bite for him. He would draw the flesh into his mouth, suck the nectar from her fingers, kiss the sweet juice from her lips…

  Something wet dribbled onto his toes.

  Jump
ing back, he swore aloud. Off with the fairies, he’d over-poured the second glass. Wine had puddled on the counter, was pooling on the floor.

  Of all the stupid, careless—

  Eden had swung around. ‘What’s wrong?’

  He muttered something about losing his grip, then joined her again. He handed over her wine, careful not to let their fingers touch this time. Putting an effort into appreciating the vibrant harbour view, he brought his glass to his lips. ‘The rain’s stopped.’

  Her finger drew a curve in the air. ‘There’s a rainbow.’

  A far-reaching arc of red, violet and every colour in between bowed over the giant Opera House shells, touching the glistening harbour waters either side.

  Nice.

  ‘Did you know that the colours of a rainbow are a result of light refracted off of raindrops?’ he said.

  ‘That’s such a clinical way of looking at—’ She cut her jibe short and rephrased. ‘What I mean is, I’d always looked at rainbows in a magical rather than scientific light. It’s good to get the other side.’

  He grinned, then softly chuckled. She was trying so hard. Trying to do the best by her sister.

  His gaze veered away from the sky—spent grey streaking westward to leave newly washed blue—and settled on the equally mesmerising sight beside him.

  His heart fisted in his throat.

  No contest. She was even more beautiful than he’d remembered.

  His next words were unintentionally husky. ‘So you believe in magic?’

  Concentrating on the rainbow, she hesitated before her chin picked up. ‘Sure. Why not?’

  His gaze drank her in. ‘Then you’d believe there’s a pot of gold at every rainbow’s end.’

  Her brow pinched and her throat bobbed before she murmured so faintly he barely heard.

  ‘I believed it once.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  HER cheeks caught light as a withering feeling fell through her middle.

  Good one, Eden. Try to sound a little more wistful and pathetic next time.

  But, rather than comment on her whimsy, thankfully Devlin only turned his attention back towards the colourful view.