by Kim Lawrence
Hope’s attention strayed as the sound of laughter from across the room rang out. It made her wince. Her first instincts when she’d seen Alex, the instant she’d stepped over the threshold of the exclusive restaurant, had been to turn tail and run.
He stood out in a party of a dozen or so. The sight of his strong profile and dark head of hair had been like a band of steel tightening around her chest. It had given the momentary impression of suffocation. Making it to the table had been more exhausting than running a marathon. That the pain she was experiencing was phantom made it no less real.
Rebecca had been seated on his right, a vibrant, glowing Rebecca, and Alex had had her hand pressed to his lips as everyone raised their glasses. The waiter’s words had only confirmed her suspicions. The tableau said everything she needed to know.
Well, it hadn’t taken him long to get over her, she reflected, staring at the bottom of her glass broodingly. Jonathan’s only comment had been, ‘You’re paying,’ when she’d ordered the second bottle, but she’d seen he was surprised.
‘You’re not a happy drunk, are you?’ Her companion’s voice interrupted her gloomy reverie.
‘I’m not drunk.’ More’s the pity, she thought, with a fresh spurt of self-pity. ‘But the night’s still young.’
Jonathan frowned. Lacey had never been one of the clients he’d had to get tough with over burning the candle at both ends. He hoped she wasn’t going to go crazy on him. There was a worrying wildness about the way she was looking tonight.
‘Champagne—we didn’t order champagne,’ Hope said as the waiter placed a bucket on the table.
Jonathan looked at the label. ‘Good stuff,’ he said, impressed.
‘With the compliments of the party over there.’ The waiter inclined his head towards the centre of the room.
‘Well, that’s very decent of the man, I must say.’ Jonathan waved his class cheerfully towards the laughing group.
‘Take it back!’
Jonathan gaped at Hope. ‘Don’t be crazy; this is really excellent.’ He twisted the bottle in its chilled bed.
‘I wouldn’t take a crumb off that man if I was starving.’
The viciousness in her low, intense voice made Jonathan stare. ‘Well, I can understand he’s not your favourite person. It must have been bloody painful, breaking your leg and everything—anyone would resent it. But it’s not as if he pushed you down personally, is it?’
‘Take it away!’
‘Hell, Lacey, there’s no need to make a scene.’
‘If I want to make a scene, I will.’ He wasn’t content with ruining her life, he wanted to rub her nose in his happiness. He was a heartless swine! And she hated him.
The object of her hate materialised at her side. ‘Is there a problem with the champagne?’
She smelt him before she actually heard him. That light, spicy stuff he wore underlaid by a more subtle male fragrance that was as unique as a fingerprint. It was horrifying to find her senses so finely attuned to him. And, why had she expected he’d look different? It had only been two weeks. Each strong feature was the way she remembered it. Memory hadn’t exaggerated his presence or pure, unadulterated sexiness.
‘Alex, what a surprise. I’m afraid I don’t like champagne.’ She didn’t sound afraid; she sounded glad she could reject his generosity. It was strange to look at his hands and think how well they knew her body. The pain of loss slid through the barrier of her anger and it was devastating.
‘I do,’ Jonathan retorted lightly.
Alex flicked him one dismissive look before turning his attention to Hope. ‘Rebecca saw you come in.’
‘Did you?’
His jaw tightened. ‘I’m sure everyone saw your entrance.’ There was no hip-swaying affectation for Hope. She walked with a long-legged, confident stride that had stretched the fabric of her long gown to the limit. His narrowed eyes ran over the strapless midnight-blue gown. The diamond clip in her upswept hair matched the sparkling gems in her ears. She was classically sexy.
A sudden laugh drew Alex’s attention to her companion. ‘She doesn’t notice that everyone stares,’ Jonathan murmured authoritatively. ‘Hard to believe, I know, but true,’ he added, in face of the hard scepticism on the older man’s face.
‘Do you mind?’ Hope glared at Jonathan.
‘Rebecca wants everyone to share her happiness.’
‘It was her idea?’
One slanted brow shot upwards, and his lips twisted in a mocking smile. ‘You thought it was from me?’
‘I didn’t even know you were here.’ She kicked Jon under the table just in case he was going to open his big mouth at the wrong moment. How dared they discuss her as though she wasn’t in the room?
‘Forgotten my name too, have you?’ He didn’t bother to hide his scepticism.
‘I’m working on that.
‘Thank Rebecca for the champagne and wish her all the best in the future.’ Let no one say I don’t have very nice manners.
‘Hope you’ll both be very happy.’ Jon rubbed his shin and reached for the bottle before anyone changed their mind. ‘Join us for a toast and we’ll drink to your future. What? What have I done now?’ he asked with an injured expression as Hope looked daggers at him.
Alex had turned back in the act of moving away. ‘You’ll drink to my future?’ A curious expression had entered his eyes.
‘I’ll toast anyone who buys me a drink.’
‘Based on past experience, your honesty is surprising.’
‘That was business. No hard feelings.’ Jon patted the dark sleeve of Alex’s suit, then regretted the casual intimacy under the narrow-eyed stare of the older man’s slatey eyes.
‘Will you drink to my future, Hope?’
Hope swallowed the painful constriction in her throat. The thudding in her temples increased in tempo. She could feel his eyes coldly analysing every shift of expression on her face. The flicker of an eyelash, the tilt of her chin.
‘I hope you get everything you deserve from life.’ Nicely translated it came out as, Rot in hell, and she was sure from Alex’s expression that he understood every word.
Why did I go and do that? she wondered. I’m not supposed to give a damn either way. Her languid scorn was a joy to behold—she’d practised it enough. Now was not the time for improvisation. Though in her mental rehearsals Alex hadn’t been about to marry another woman, so she did have some excuse for straying from the script.
‘I’m touched.’ His gesture resulted in a chair being brought promptly. ‘I will have that drink with you.’
His knees touched hers beneath the table and Hope drew back as if stung. Her cool façade had crumbled ignominiously at the slight, possibly deliberate physical contact. Angry, she smoothed invisible wrinkles from the moulded bodice of her dress. When she looked up Alex’s eyes were fixed on the exposed creamy cleavage. The light boning did make the best of her assets.
‘We wouldn’t want to keep you from your own party.’ She hated herself for responding to the burning hunger in his glance.
‘Rebecca can afford to be generous tonight.’
His smug certainty grated on Hope. Did he know each word was like a poisoned dart? ‘I’d be worried if my future husband ogled other women’s breasts the way you do.’ I sound like a spiteful bitch, she realised in dismay.
‘Oh, hell,’ Jonathan groaned quietly as he choked on the excellent champagne. So that was what Lacey had been doing in the country.
‘If you shove them in a man’s face he doesn’t have much choice but to look, sweetheart,’ he drawled.
Hope stiffened with outrage—shove them! ‘In other words, a woman who doesn’t hide her body in a sack is asking for it,’ she breathed wrathfully.
‘It’s men’s nature to look, and your body would still be an invitation in a sack.’
‘Amen to that,’ Jonathan breathed.
‘Don’t you dare side with him! He’s accusing me of being a vamp.’
‘Only after
you accused me of being a lecher,’ Alex pointed out pedantically.
‘I’m going to the little boys’ room.’ Jonathan gave the almost full bottle a wistful glance before he left.
Alex watched the younger man retreat with an expression of scorn. ‘He’s going to run out on you.’
‘I know,’ she said tolerantly.
‘Why do you put up with him? He’s a creep.’
‘He’s a very good agent.’ ‘Creep’ was being a little hard. ‘And there’s no possibility of him falling in love with me,’ she murmured hazily.
Alex’s glance sharpened—no, she couldn’t be, he decided. There wasn’t even the suspicion of a slur to mar her clear diction. ‘Perhaps we should be toasting your success.’
‘You heard about that, then?’ She tried to put pleasure into her lack-lustre response.
‘I saw it.’
His words shocked her. The idea of Alex out there one night in the darkness watching her sent a secret shiver down her spine. ‘I’m glad I didn’t know,’ she confessed unthinkingly. For some reason words seemed to be popping unbidden into her mouth.
‘Why?’ He filled her glass, but left his own empty.
‘An audience should be anonymous.’ How could she have forgotten who she was and thrown herself into a characterisation if she’d known he was there? She’d have frozen; he made her too aware of exactly who she was. ‘So—marriage.’ She emptied her glass in one gulp and swirled the slender-stemmed goblet in a wide arc.
As Alex ducked to avoid a collision with his head it occurred to him that despite her controlled speech the lady really was well and truly drunk. ‘Yes, indeed, marriage. Are we talking in general here, or…?’
‘Yours. Yours and Rebecca’s. You’ve never done it before?’
‘Not so as I recall.’
‘She’s nice.’
‘I think so.’
‘Then I hope you’ll be very happy.’ She felt a saintly glow of self-sacrifice as she earnestly told him this. ‘When’s the wedding?’
‘Next week.’
She swallowed hard and looked straight head. Well, that should put a stop to her romantic daydreams. Nothing like the brutal truth to wake a girl up to the futility of fantasies.
‘I don’t suppose there’s much point waiting when you already know one another.’
‘That’s what Rebecca says.’
‘Marriage is pretty serious.’
‘It is. Until very recently I didn’t think I’d ever marry.’
‘Why not?’ Her deep blue eyes were fixed with reluctant fascination on his face.
‘Like my father, I’m pretty selfish. Selfish men make hellish husbands. I’d hate to put a woman through what my mother suffered at his hands.’
‘But you’ve changed your mind?’
‘Someone changed it for me.’
Rebecca. Hope wanted to throw herself on the floor and weep. Instead she did the mature thing and had another drink.
‘Do you think you should have any more of that?’ he asked, watching her fill the glass with a less than steady hand.
‘Oh, I was lying when I said I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the whisky, though.’ She plonked her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her cupped hands. ‘It tastes really disgusting.’
‘Why did you have it, then?’
‘I wanted to experiment. I know people who enjoy being tipsy.’ Alex wasn’t usually this slow on the uptake; she felt quite disappointed in him.
‘Tipsy happened half a bottle ago, Hope. In my experience it’s usually safer to experiment in private, with a small audience. People react differently to alcohol, and you’re entering the maudlin stage. Your escort departed at the bolshie stage.’
‘Maudlin is pathetic,’ she protested rather loudly. ‘I am never pathetic; it’s humiliating. Is it warm in here?’
‘It’s getting warmer,’ he said softly as she plucked fretfully at the plunging neckline of her gown. ‘How does that thing stay up?’ He blinked hard to banish the image of the silky fabric sliding lower to reveal— The muscles in his throat worked hard as he swallowed.
Hope patted the side of her nose and looked mysterious. ‘Trade secret. Is that Rebecca coming over here?’ She craned her neck to look over his shoulder. ‘Oh, God,’ she moaned gloomily, ‘I’ll have to be nice to her.’
Alex’s lips twitched. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll deal with it.’
She swopped seats so she could see Alex meet Rebecca a few feet away. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Rebecca looked over to her several times and even returned the waves Hope sent in her direction. She smiled and nodded a lot before going back to her seat.
‘I don’t suppose your beau paid the bill?’ Alex asked.
‘Nope,’ Hope replied, laying her head on her folded arms.
‘Don’t go to sleep yet.’
‘God, you’re so bossy. Put that card away,’ she said crossly as she saw him signing for the meal. ‘I’m an independent woman of means.’
‘You’re sloshed.’
‘I knew there was something wrong.’ She stared owlishly at him. ‘What should I do?’ She gazed trustingly up at him.
He closed his eyes and she distinctly heard him mutter something about strength. ‘I’m taking you home.’
‘Rebecca wouldn’t like that,’ she told him, wagging her finger at him.
‘She doesn’t mind. Call it a loan.’
‘If you ask me,’ she said darkly, ‘she should be more careful with her possessions. I would be.’
‘Are you still staying with the lovely Miranda?’ Alex asked as he finally managed to slide her into the back seat of a cab.
‘Did you fancy her, then? She fancied you.’
‘That’s very gratifying,’ Alex said, giving the address to the driver and climbing in beside her.
‘I shouldn’t think anyone noticed I’m drunk. I think we were very un…unobtrusive.’ She placed her head on Alex’s shoulder and closed her eyes. The world started to spin in a nauseating fashion so she opened them again. ‘I don’t know why you made such a fuss about my earring. People were staring.’ She touched the earlobe of her naked ear.
‘You’re very casual about a small fortune.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, rubbing a finger along the strong line of his jaw. ‘They’re not real. I can’t believe you think I’d spend a fortune on diamonds,’ she said incredulously. ‘They’re paste.’ She tugged off the other one. ‘Next you’ll be saying this is real animal fur.’ She touched the collar of her jacket. ‘You really don’t know me very well, do you? I’m not really into things.’
Alex looked at the top of her head with an expression that softened his harsh features. ‘I’m beginning to think you’re right.’
‘That was quite a rock Rebecca was wearing.’
‘You saw that from across the room?’
‘I’m a woman, Alex. Women notice these things. Some people might call it tasteless and ostentatious.’
‘Not you, of course.’
‘That would catty,’ she agreed virtuously. ‘She obviously thinks diamonds are a girl’s best friend.’
‘Who do you think should be a girl’s best friend, Hope?’
‘A lover would be nice, don’t you think?’ she murmured, with a sleepy smile that made Alex catch his breath sharply.
‘There’s no point ringing—Miranda’s in Cairo,’ she said as Alex shifted her weight to reach the intercom. ‘The lifts are over there,’ she added, swinging her legs as he hitched her a little higher. ‘You can put me down now. My leg’s all better.’ She lifted the hem of her skirt above her knees to illustrate the point. ‘It was only that little step I couldn’t quite get the hang of. You’re very strong, aren’t you?’ she observed feeling his bulging bicep. ‘You’ve got beautiful muscles.’
‘If the lift’s not working, don’t worry—you’ll walk.’ There was a hint of desperation in Alex’s tone and it wasn’t directly connected with her weight.
‘This isn’t the sort of building that has out of order lifts, Alex.’ It wasn’t, but the lift did have other passengers, who smiled politely and looked in the other direction as she crooned softly in his ear and let his hair slide over her delving fingers.
When they eventually reached their destination Alex placed her on her feet, but stood ready to catch her should the need arise.
‘Promise me one thing.’
‘Anything,’ she promised happily, wrapping her arms around his neck.
‘Never do a musical.’ The barely recognisable strains of a top ten hit were still echoing in his ears.
‘Why would I do that, silly? I’m tone deaf.’ She walked with immense care to the opposite side of the room and sank gracefully into the designer sofa. ‘Miranda says this is an investment,’ she observed, looking with disapproval at the geometric upholstery. ‘I hate it. Are you going back to Rebecca now?’
‘I’m making you coffee—lots of it—now.’ When he returned a few minutes later Hope was snoring quietly, her head uncomfortably lolling forward on her chest.
Alex stood there watching her silently for several minutes. His rugged exterior hid a sensitivity and emotional depth that for one unguarded moment was visible in the twisted smile on his lips. The attempts he made to rouse her were greeted with cross admonitions to ‘leave me alone.’
Amnesia was scary. The taste in her mouth was metallic and disgusting. The blue designer gown she’d worn last night was tidily arranged over the chair. She took comfort in the sight, reasoning she couldn’t have been that bad if she’d taken such care. She peeped under the covers and saw she was only wearing the silky pants she’d worn last night.
The movement of the king-sized water bed as she got out affected her delicate stomach badly. She pushed a hand through her tangled hair and frowned at her reflection in the mirror. She belted a thin thigh-length robe around her waist and headed for the bathroom. Cold water splashed on her face had a bracing effect, and her mouth felt a little less disgusting after she’d cleaned her teeth.
For some strange reason she kept smelling fresh coffee. Perhaps that was some undiscovered side effect of a hangover. Because a hangover was what she had. For the first and, if she had anything to say about it, last time in her life.
