One Night in the Orient

by Robyn Donald

  A clean cut is less painful in the long run, she reminded herself.

  But, oh, how she wanted to do it! Why on earth had he asked her …?

  A cruel thought struck her. Before she could think, she asked bluntly, “Is this job a pay-off? As in, thanks for the sex and don’t expect anything more?”

  Her voice trailed away when Nick’s cold gaze bored into her, setting off foreboding and an acute sense of dislocation.

  His face hardening into a cold mask, he surveyed her burning cheeks and the mutinous lift of her jaw, and drawled, “You have a very odd idea of my character if you think I pay off ex-lovers.” After a taut moment he went on, “And, in the interests of accuracy, I believe that’s usually jewellery—something vulgar and glittering and easy to resell.”

  “Nick—”

  “Before you come up with another insult,” he interrupted caustically, “I’m not doing this because your father helped me at a time when I needed him.”

  Siena bit her lip. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, and yielded to temptation. “It sounds wonderful, and I’d love to give it a go. How about if I work out a plan? That should show me if I can do it. If you don’t like it, I’ll give you the names of several very good landscape architects who’d make an excellent job of it.”

  “It’s a deal.” He held out his hand.

  After a moment Siena extended hers. There was nothing sensual about his brisk handshake or his unsmiling look, but Siena felt the impact down to her toes.

  With a saturnine smile he said, “And, to stop the remorseful pair from plaguing you with too much angst, I suggest you stay here. If you really feel like being magnanimous tell them we’re lovers. I imagine they’ll be very grateful and eager to believe you. Grovelling is hard on the self-esteem, and Gemma at least will have an uneasy conscience.”

  Anger was good. It beat grief any time. Siena bit back hot words and said sweetly, “You’re so thoughtful. I might just do that.” After a large gulp of coffee she said into the intimidating silence, “In fact, it’s a brilliant idea. Am I likely to be contacted by paparazzi, or anybody who feels they might have a prior claim on you?”

  At first Nick’s expression didn’t alter, apart from a slight narrowing of his eyes, but she felt a chill. Her brain went into meltdown.

  “No. And stop trying to make me angry.”

  She could read nothing from the compelling features, nothing in the burnished green of his eyes. His detached tone and disciplined expression sent a shiver scudding down her spine.

  “But it’s rather fun.” She’d intended to say more, but the cool glint in Nick’s eyes silenced her.

  “Finish your toast.”

  To her surprise she found herself obeying as he began to tell her what he wanted for the garden.

  After a couple of minutes she scrambled to her feet. “I need to make notes. I won’t be a moment.”

  When she got back with her notebook she noticed a fresh slice of toast. Touched, she said, “Thanks.”

  “Eat it,” he commanded, and refused to go ahead until she had.

  Scribbling busily, Siena was acutely aware of the sun’s blue sheen on his black head, the way the golden light caressed the arrogant angles and planes of his face, and the subtle quickening deep inside her body at his powerful male presence.

  Succinctly he described the sort of garden he wanted, finishing, “And you’d better make sure there’s a fence—preferably discreet—around the cliff-top.”

  Siena hoped he assumed the colour in her skin came from the caress of the sun. Her heart twisted painfully, but she was rather proud of her level voice. “It’s probably wise. Do you have a time and a price in mind for this? It’s not going to be cheap, and it will take some time.”

  “We can work out the price after I’ve seen what you come up with,” he said. “As for time—I imagine it will take some months, depending on how much building is involved.”

  “Why me?” she asked directly. “You could get someone with an established reputation. Trust me, landscape architects all over the South Pacific would fight for a commission like this.”

  “I don’t want landscape architects from all over the South Pacific.”

  “But you don’t know that I can do it,” she said with blunt honesty, then scrambled to her feet. “Look, the more we talk about it, the more I realise it would be impossible.”

  His fingers around her wrist shackled her in place; they rested there loosely, with no hint of a threat, but she felt the touch in every cell of her body.

  “Sit down,” he said quietly.

  Siena stared at him, met a gaze that was steady and determined. Uncomfortably she sank back into her chair.

  Immediately releasing her, Nick said, “There’s no need to lose your courage now.”

  She bristled. “Lose my courage?”

  “That’s what you’re doing—suffering a crisis of confidence. And, quite frankly, it doesn’t sit well with you.”

  She tilted her chin against his hooded scrutiny. “I—well, I don’t want to stuff up,” she said lamely, because she was being a coward.

  She’d loved making over her parents’ garden, and was proud of what she’d achieved there. A week ago she’d have fought for this chance, yet now she was using her fear of being hurt to avoid it.

  Surely falling in love with Nick hadn’t drained her courage away? OK, so she’d be in fairly constant contact, but it would be email—hardly personal. He didn’t visit New Zealand more than a couple of times a year, so he probably wouldn’t come back until well after the garden was finished.

  And by then she might have freed herself from his dark enchantment.

  He said, “I’m quite confident you won’t allow yourself to fail.” Again she felt the full effect of a penetrating survey. Without changing tone he said, “And as you’re going to be supervising it would be better if you lived here for the duration.”

  “All right,” she said, adding with a twisted smile, “Nick, you’re being very kind. Thank you.”

  “I’m not particularly kind, so spare me the thanks,” he said abruptly. “The arrangement suits me. Tell me, are you happy for Gemma to marry Worth?”

  Siena blinked. Odd that only a few days ago she’d been utterly sure she loved Adrian, yet now she could talk about him without feeling anything more than a faint regret. She knew why too, even though she didn’t want to accept it. Nick had always been lodged in her heart, and now he’d taken it over completely.

  “I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “What I don’t want is for Gemma to blame herself for what’s happened. Knowing her, she’ll feel guilty all her life. And she’s quite capable of turning Adrian down because she’s terrified it will wreck my life. It won’t.”

  Nick seemed to be thinking deeply, his unreadable gaze fixed on her face. Finally, when she was getting twitchy, he said, “Your loyalty does you credit.” His beautiful mouth curled slightly. “Even though I find it somewhat ironic in the circumstances.” He didn’t press the issue, continuing smoothly, “How will your parents feel about this abrupt change in everyone’s circumstances?”

  Heat skimmed her cheeks. “They’ll accept it.”

  “And when we part?”

  His laconic query crushed a fragile and foolish hope. With a smile she hoped reached her eyes, Siena said brightly, “I’ll make sure they understand it was a mutual decision, not just yours.”

  His black eyebrows drew together for a second, then the incipient frown smoothed out. “That should cover all bases.”

  The hint of satire in his words made her look up sharply, but he met her startled gaze with a bland expression.

  “I’ll have a contract drawn up.” This time his tone was all business. “Get a lawyer to go over it with you. In the meantime, we’d better go and collect some clothes from your parents’ house.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  AS SHE deposited the cutlery from the terrace table into the dishwasher, Siena said, “I need to give Adrian back his ring.�
� The sooner, the better.

  “Courier it to him.” Nick’s tone gave her no option.

  Coolly she returned, “It will be more final if I actually hand it back to him.”

  “Why?”

  With a crooked smile she admitted, “I suppose I want to tell him a few home truths.”

  “It won’t be worth it,” Nick said levelly. “If you expect him to be sorry, you’ll be disappointed.”

  “How do you know that?” she demanded.

  “Because presumably right now he feels that in Gemma he’s found the one true love of his life. What’s to be sorry for? You’re probably filed under the heading of ‘Collateral Damage’.”

  Siena winced, but had to accept the cynical truth in his words. “Just because he cancelled our engagement by email doesn’t mean I have to be as rude. I’m going to give it back personally.”

  Nick was watching her with half-closed eyes. She could read nothing in his expression.

  “Surely that could convince your sister you’re still in love with him?”

  Siena stared at him, then said slowly, “It shouldn’t, but in the state she’s in it could, I suppose. I’ll just have to make sure she believes our story.”

  “Give it to me. I’ll see that he gets it.”

  “No, I’ll do it.” It was ridiculous, but she didn’t want Nick to have anything to do with Adrian.

  She met his eyes boldly, quelling an odd qualm when he frowned.

  However, he left it at that, but when she turned to leave the kitchen he said laconically, “And before we go we’d better make up some story so the details match.”

  Heat swept up through Siena’s skin. Bracing herself, she said brightly, “If anyone asks I’ll tell them we met again in London, fell for each other, and that I’m wildly in love with you.”

  Nick’s smile was hardened by a tinge of mockery. “So are we planning a wedding?”

  “No!” she blurted, before she had a chance to think.

  With a tinge of sarcasm he said, “That reaction is not going to convince anyone that we’re conducting a passionate affair. Perhaps you could blush delicately and turn away and say that it’s too early yet for such plans.”

  Siena blinked at his unexpectedly assessing survey. Before she could answer he went on, “Don’t bother about it now. I’m sure we can come up with something suitably romantic before we get there.”

  “We? Nick, you don’t have to drive me.”

  “You’re going to need me around—at least occasionally—to reinforce the fact that you’re violently in love with me,” he pointed out smoothly. “And as you don’t have a car it will take you all morning to get there by public transport.”

  Of course he knew she didn’t want to spend money on a taxi across the harbour bridge. Cornered, she snapped, “I hope you’re not thinking of coming in with me.”

  “Not unless you want me to,” he said, in a detached voice that probably indicated boredom.

  She shook her head, then pushed the dislodged black curls back from her cheeks and met his scrutiny with a rueful smile. “Last night it seemed fairly straightforward,” she confessed. “Go back home, reassure Gemma, give Adrian back his ring with a few well-chosen but dignified words, then find a new job and a new place to live. Why is real life a lot more complicated?”

  “That’s what happens when you start weaving tangled webs.” At her bemused glance he quoted, “ ‘Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive.’ Sir Walter Scott is outdated now, but he was a wise man. And if you inveigle other people into your schemes you must expect complications.”

  “It was not my scheme,” she objected warily, fighting a swift charge of excitement at the way he was looking at her. “And I don’t even know what inveigle means.”

  “I think you do. It means to entice.”

  Her gaze was caught in the heady snare of his. Adrenalin rushed through her, setting off tiny flickering brushfires of sensation.

  “Or seduce.” His voice thickened, and with a hand on her shoulder he turned her slightly so that a gentle tug propelled her into his arms. “And, although you probably didn’t intend to entice or seduce me, it’s very apt,” he murmured against her mouth, just before he crushed it beneath his.

  The kiss was deep and ravaging, sending arousal pulsing through her. Every thought was swamped by desire so intense Siena’s knees buckled under its force.

  Nick lifted his head, green eyes smoky with hunger, and then he smiled, stooped and picked her up, heading towards the open door of the sitting room.

  On the way across to the sofa she said in a shaken voice, “I get the feeling that carrying me around fulfils some macho power urge you have.”

  “It certainly makes me feel very, very good,” he responded, and lowered himself, long legs stretched the length of the cushions.

  He was just as aroused as she was. Her body sprang to life at the familiar faint scent of him, the stripped, intent look in his hooded eyes. Lost to everything but the urgency of her need for him, she traced his beautiful mouth with kisses, butterfly caresses that shortened her breath.

  Nick groaned and his hands came down onto her hips, holding her in such intimate juxtaposition she felt the flexion of every sinew and muscle. An answering sound forced its way from her throat as she thrust against him.

  Until she remembered what lay ahead of her.

  Not now, she thought dazedly when his lips lingered on the hollow of her throat. Little shudders of delight ran through her, fogging her brain with pleasure.

  But the intrusive thoughts pushed themselves forward, nagging, refusing to go away.

  She lifted her head and said in an anguished voice, “Gemma. And Adrian …”

  Narrow-eyed, his voice raw, Nick consigned them to hell directly and without elaboration.

  “No,” she said, trying hard to smile. “Nick, this is not a good idea right now. I need to be able to think, and I can’t do that with a … a passion-dazzled mind.”

  And a body that wanted nothing more than to surrender to this tantalising, reckless hunger for him.

  Nick frowned, but almost immediately his arms dropped. “Passion-dazzled?”

  Crimson-faced, she scrambled off, almost stumbling in her eagerness to get away before she did something stupid like kiss him again.

  To be on the safe side she strode across the room to stare out of the window. Trees dipped and swayed, flowers were blobs of colour that danced in front of her eyes, but nothing banished the image of Nick magnificently sprawled along the sofa.

  “Passion-dazzled,” he repeated thoughtfully.

  Siena’s skin burned even more hotly. Clearly it took no effort for him to quell his hunger.

  He said, “I like that very much. I’d like it even more if you hadn’t stopped, but you’re right.”

  Contradicting every sensible resolution, she wished he’d ignored her words, taken for himself what they both wanted so much.

  She firmed lips that ached for more of his kisses. “I just want to get rid of everything that’s hanging over me.”

  “I can understand that.”

  Siena turned, her heart bumping unevenly when she saw him fastening the buttons of his shirt. She didn’t remember undoing it, but her fingertips thrilled at the memory of his hot skin, fascinatingly textured by the fine pattern of hair across his chest.

  She swallowed, but he said, “A clean cut is always the least painful. And it heals better.”

  Her stomach dropped, and for a far-too-vivid moment she imagined the moment when he would calmly and finally cut free of her.

  “Having second thoughts?” he asked, his tone neutral.

  Siena shook her head. Whatever happened with Nick, there could be no going back. Adrian no longer had a place in her heart.

  “Far from it,” she said crisply. “Let’s go.”

  Gemma was definitely home; the windows had been opened in their parents’ house.

  Nick stopped the car outside, got out and open
ed the door for Siena to get out. He looked down at her, his gaze searching. “All right?”

  “I’m fine,” she said crisply, ignoring the butterflies beneath her ribs.

  He bent his head and before she could object he kissed her again—the sort of kiss, she thought dazedly when she emerged from it, that should be kept for very private moments.

  “Just in case anyone’s watching,” he said coolly when she glowered at him.

  “There’s a good café just around the corner,” she said, indicating the top of the street with a jerk of her chin. “I’ll meet you there, shall I?”

  “I’ll wait.” He leaned back against the car, big and lithe and magnificent, and clearly determined to stay.

  Ruffled by that kiss, she protested, “It’s not necessary. You might as well be drinking coffee—”

  “Get it over and done with,” he said, nodding to two elderly ladies who looked as though they could be making their way home from church.

  Both beamed at him, then transferred their smiles—knowledgeably conspiratorial this time—to her.

  Warmed, she thought, If only …

  Because she had to accept the truth. Their supposed affair would end like his previous ones, with no regrets on Nick’s part.

  She couldn’t let that matter now.

  Setting her shoulders, she walked up the concrete path, clattered across the wooden verandah and rang the bell, feeling as though Nick had branded her with his kisses.

  Gemma opened the door and burst into tears.

  “Oh, Gem, don’t,” Siena said in an anguished voice, and hugged her.

  But Gemma couldn’t stop; it took Siena almost half an hour before she could make her sister understand that she wasn’t shattered, that her heart was otherwise engaged.

  She’d packed most of her clothes before Gemma stopped weeping and gasped, “Nick? Our Nick?”

  Siena said on a sigh, “How on earth you can indulge in a solid half-hour of sobbing and still look gorgeous, I don’t know. It’s so unfair.”

  Mopping up, Gemma dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “I’m—actually, I’m not s-surprised. I always knew you had a thing for him. What happened? When did you know it was Nick?”