by Miranda Lee
Her decision surprised her.
‘In that case,’ she said boldly, ‘you will be delighted to hear that I will quite happily accept your apartment as my fee for services rendered. But I do not want this car,’ she swept on. ‘I have Aunt Kate’s now, if you recall.’
‘I doubt it’s a Ferrari,’ he retorted.
‘No. But, quite frankly, I’m not overly fond of Ferraris. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to slow down. You’re breaking the speed limit. And whilst I don’t give a damn if you lose your driving licence, I do not want to lose my life.’
He did ease off on the accelerator a little but the Ferrari still zoomed across the Hawkesbury River bridge doing a hundred and twenty kilometres an hour, ten kilometres over the speed limit.
‘On top of that,’ she continued, her heart pounding inside her chest, ‘once we reach Aunt Kate’s place, we’re finished! The thought of living with a man like you for another single day makes me feel sick.’
‘For heaven’s sake, don’t be such a drama queen! You knew the score when you moved in with me. Don’t pretend you didn’t.’
‘I won’t. But I thought things had changed. I thought you cared about me, the same way I … I care about you.’ She bit her trembling bottom lip, determined not to cry, or to blurt out that she loved him.
‘I do care about you,’ he insisted. ‘If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be prepared to give you a five-million-dollar apartment. Which, I might add, you haven’t refused. Not that I would have admired you if you had. I would have thought you a naïve little fool.’
‘Which is what I was all this time. But not any more. I’ve finally had my rose-coloured glasses taken off where you’re concerned.’
‘Good,’ he ground out. ‘It’s about time.’
She stared over at him. ‘You’ve been planning to break up with me for a while, haven’t you?’
He stayed silent for a few seconds, a frown drawing his dark brows together.
‘I admit I’ve become concerned that you were getting emotionally involved with me,’ he said at last.
‘And that would be dreadful, wouldn’t it?’ she threw at him.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It would.’
‘But why?’ she demanded to know, frustration and exasperation fuelling her tongue. ‘What is it about commitment which terrifies you so much?’
‘The fact that I wouldn’t be able to sustain it and then I’d feel guilty. It’s a case of like father, like son, Amber. My father was, to put it bluntly, a notorious womaniser.’
‘That’s a cop-out. Just because your father was a notorious womaniser doesn’t mean you have to be one.’
‘There is a saying, Amber, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” I am the spitting image of my father, in every way. Trust me on this. Look, I never planned to hurt you. But I’ve realised that I will, if you stay with me much longer. You’re a truly nice girl and you deserve someone better than me, someone who will love you and give you what you really want. Which isn’t being a rich man’s mistress.’
Amber blinked her surprise.
‘Are you saying you’re being cruel to be kind? ‘
‘I am rarely kind, Amber. But with you, it’s hard not to be. So, yes, I probably am being just that.’
Amber’s head whirled with a thousand conflicting thoughts. She couldn’t work out what it was he felt for her.
‘I don’t understand you, Warwick,’ she said at last.
‘Don’t even try, sweetheart.’
‘Don’t call me that,’ she snapped. ‘I hate it when you call me that.’
‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘It makes me feel cheap.’
‘Don’t be bloody ridiculous! ‘
A taut silence fell between them, neither speaking a word till the Ferrari turned off the expressway and made its way down the hill towards Gosford, which was the doorway to the central coast with all its lovely beaches. Not a beach town itself, Gosford surrounded a large expanse of inland water, which on that day was very still and blue.
‘It’s a pretty place,’ Warwick commented as he drove over an arched bridge that had the water on his right and a palm-lined sports stadium on his left.
‘What?’ Amber’s mind was not on her surroundings.
‘Gosford. It’s a pretty town.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Do you want to stop somewhere for lunch?’ he asked.
Amber glanced at her wristwatch. It was just after one. But she didn’t feel at all hungry. Distress always destroyed her appetite. Given her present circumstances, she doubted she’d ever eat again.
‘I’d rather go straight to Aunt Kate’s place if you don’t mind. Do you remember the way?’
‘I follow the coastal road till we get to a roundabout at Wamberal where I turn right, after which I turn left onto the road which runs beside the lake. Your aunt’s place is just along there on the right.’
‘You have a good memory for someone who’s only been there the once.’
‘I have a photographic memory.’
The remark surprised Amber. Warwick rarely talked of himself in that way. Although obviously very clever, he wasn’t a braggart.
‘Did your father have a photographic memory?’ she asked, recalling his earlier insistence that he was the spitting image of his father, in every way.
‘Actually, no,’ came his surprising reply. ‘I got that from my mother. She was an actress. Apparently, she only had to read a script through once to remember it word for word. Or so my father told me. I had no reason to doubt him, since I’ve inherited a similar talent. It made studying for exams a lot easier, I can tell you.’
‘I suppose you were brilliant at school,’ Amber said, thinking to herself how odd it was that they were talking like this. During the ten months they’d lived together, they’d never had a conversation of this vein. Warwick had always cleverly sidestepped any questions about his family, or his past life.
‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘I was head boy of my school.’
She wasn’t surprised.
‘I wasn’t very good at school,’ Amber said with a sigh. ‘That’s why I left when I was sixteen.’
‘Being good at school is not all it’s cracked up to be. I’ve seen lots of people who were brilliant academically but had no street sense. And very little common sense, either. You are an extremely capable and clever girl who, I’m sure, could turn her hand to anything. And you have social skills which are invaluable. People like you. You’re quite right when you said you could run your aunt’s B & B. You could do it standing on your head.’
But I don’t want to run my aunt’s B & B, Amber felt like wailing. I want to stay with you. I love you.
But there was no point. It was over, all her futile hopes of Warwick falling in love with her dashed to the ground. And whilst she didn’t feel as angry with him as she had a little while before, there was no point in pretending that she’d ever meant anything more to him than a very pretty girlfriend who’d provided him with an accommodating social companion, an agreeable hostess when required and lots of sex.
Of course, it had been the lots of sex part that had turned her head and confused her heart. It had been oh-so-easy to imagine that his lust for her might one day turn to love. Hers had for him, after all. But super-rich men like Warwick, Amber realised, were of a different ilk. He wasn’t looking for love, or commitment, just entertainment.
It was a depressing reality, made all the worse because in her mind she could hear her parents and her brothers saying, ‘I told you so!’
Still, maybe they’d shut up when she gave them a whole heap of money from the sale of the Point Piper apartment. She didn’t doubt that Warwick would give her the property. In a perverse way, he did have honour. And honesty. Also, she could not deny he had told her the score right from the beginning. He’d warned her that he didn’t do for ever. She’d been stupid to ignore his warnings. Now, she would have to nurse a broken heart for a long time.
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nbsp; That breaking heart squeezed tight at this last thought, bringing home the harsh reality of life without the man she loved. The future ahead looked bleak, and empty, and infinitely depressing.
Maybe it would be a good idea for her to stay up here and run her aunt’s B & B. Alternatively, she could put the B & B on the market, then take a flat somewhere in Sydney and look for a job. She had a wide range of experience in the hospitality industry, from waitressing to bar work to fronting reception desks in hotels and clubs. It shouldn’t take her too long to find employment. Even if it took a while, she still had the apartment and her savings, which she hadn’t touched since meeting Warwick.
But she didn’t have the heart—or the courage—to put herself out there like that. Not right now. She really needed to be by herself for a while to grieve the death of all her secret hopes and dreams. What better place than her aunt’s home, which would be very peaceful and quiet at this time of the year? She didn’t have to try to run the B & B straight away. She could just potter around the house for a month or so. Go for long walks on the beach. Read some of the many wonderful books her aunt had collected over the years.
Maybe she’d even start keeping a diary again …
She’d given that up when she’d moved in with Warwick. Which, she should have realised, was a telling thing to do. Subconsciously, she must have known that her time with him was just a fantasy, and not of the real world.
Amber was glad that she hadn’t kept a record of her stupidity. It would have hurt too much to read it over, which she no doubt would have now.
‘We don’t have to break up just yet,’ Warwick said suddenly, startling her out of her musings.
Amber stared over at him. First at his handsome profile. Then at his long strong fingers, which were curled over the steering wheel; those same fingers that last night had given her such pleasure.
The temptation to stay with him for as long as possible was overwhelmingly strong. But how could she without sacrificing what little pride she had left?
It wouldn’t be the same anyway, she argued to herself. I’d know I was on borrowed time. I’d end up hating him. And myself. Better a clean break now. Better to say goodbye with some dignity.
‘No, Warwick,’ she said, her voice surprisingly firm. ‘I think it’s better that we call it quits today. You can drop me off at Aunt Kate’s and go straight back to Sydney.’ The sooner he was out of her sight, the better. Not that out of sight would be out of mind.
‘Just like that?’ he returned, sounding not at all pleased. ‘What if I don’t want to break up today? And what if I don’t want to go straight back to Sydney? You might at least have the decency to offer me a cup of coffee and a trip to the loo. We’ve been on the road for some time.’
Amber sighed. He was right. Now that she thought about it, she too wanted to go to the bathroom. But he could forget the coffee. She wasn’t going to give him a single opportunity to try to change her mind. There were plenty of places along the highway where he could get himself some refreshment. Once he was finished in the bathroom, she would insist that he go.
Suddenly, she realised he’d missed the turn.
‘You’ve just gone through the roundabout!’ she exclaimed frustratedly. ‘You didn’t turn right…’
CHAPTER SIX
WARWICK swore. He hated feeling a fool, and he felt like one at that moment. What in hell was wrong with him, finding all sorts of excuses to prolong things? Far better that he just drop her off and leave. He could easily use the restroom at the garage they’d just passed. Nothing would be gained by accompanying Amber into Aunt Kate’s property.
Nothing admirable, anyway, he realised, his thoughts turning dark.
Damn it all but he wanted her. Maybe more since she’d declared her intention to have done with him. How perverse was that? He should have been relieved that it was over, without any big scenes. He’d been half afraid that when the dreaded moment came Amber would dissolve into tears, or become hysterical and declare that she loved him and couldn’t live without him.
Instead, she’d been amazingly strong and decisive. Warwick had been somewhat surprised that she’d agreed to accept the apartment. Though frankly if she’d knocked it back that would have shown her to be a romantic idealist with no common sense at all.
Instead, she’d given him a glimpse of an Amber he’d never encountered before. The girl sitting beside him at this moment—the one who dared to call it quits with him—wasn’t the sweet, soft, amenable creature he’d been living with this past ten months. This girl was far more formidable. And, he was finding, even more attractive to him.
When he glanced over at her flushed cheeks and defiantly upturned chin he experienced a surge of desire even more intense than he had the night before. The thought that he would never make love to her again was simply not on. So was the idea that he would be leaving her up here and driving back to Sydney alone.
‘There’s a set of lights coming up,’ Amber said. ‘Turn right there and I’ll direct you to Aunt Kate’s the back way. It won’t take much longer.’
‘No sweat,’ he replied. ‘I’m not in any hurry.’ And he glanced over at her again.
When Amber’s head turned and her eyes met his, her heart jolted in her chest. She knew that look, knew what it meant.
Over my dead body, she thought angrily, even as that same body instinctively responded, as Warwick had programmed it to this past year. Her heartbeat quickened, her belly tightening, as did her nipples.
She could not let him go inside Aunt Kate’s with her, she accepted immediately. That would be the kiss goodbye to her resolve to have done with him today. He was way too good at seduction—and she was way too weak once in his arms—for her to risk being alone with him in a house with bedrooms.
Amber steeled herself as she issued brusque directions to her aunt’s place.
She should have foreseen that he wouldn’t like her being the one to break up with him. It would have piqued his ego. Which was the reason behind that sexually charged look. His massive male ego insisted that he had to be the one to do the breaking up in his relationships. He made the rules and he made all the decisions.
Well not this time, buster, Amber vowed. I might have been a pushover once, but not any more. I’ve always despised girls who go back to boyfriends who’ve treated them badly, trotting out the excuse that they love them. If loving someone means you let them treat you without respect, then I don’t want any part of that kind of love.
Not that she deserved his respect, came the sudden shaming realisation. In his eyes she was obviously no better than all his previous—mistresses. Worse, really. Hadn’t she moved in with him without a single promise of anything but fun and games? He’d warned her right from the start that their relationship was temporary. Yet she’d still agreed. And now … now here she was, prepared to accept payment for services rendered.
How cheap could you get?
Not that her own behaviour exonerated Warwick’s. His admitting that he was a callous womaniser didn’t make it right.
Still, as long as silly girls like herself allowed him to use them shamelessly, then pay them off, he would continue going from woman to woman as powerful men had been doing since time began.
‘I know the way from here,’ Warwick said when they turned into Ocean View Drive.
Thirty seconds later they were driving down her aunt’s street, which ran alongside the lagoon.
The sight of the sign announcing Kate’s B & B brought a lump to Amber’s throat. How strange it would be not to have Aunt Kate open the door with her wonderfully welcoming smile.
Warwick turned the Ferrari into the driveway, which led into the large back yard where there was plenty of room for guests and visitors to park. Because of the way the house was located on the block, the back door had always been used as the front door. Warwick drove right up close to the back porch whilst Amber glanced around the yard.
Despite her father having mown the lawn recently, some of the fl
owerbeds were looking unloved. Aunt Kate had been an avid gardener and would never normally have let her roses go unpruned during the winter months. She must have felt unwell for quite some time to neglect her garden this way.
Sadness overwhelmed Amber as she looked up at the back of the two-storeyed house with its drawn curtains and general air of emptiness. A sigh—almost a sob—escaped her lips.
‘I knew it,’ Warwick said rather impatiently after he cut the engine. ‘You’re going to cry.’
It infuriated her, his lack of compassion where her aunt’s death was concerned.
Her head whipped round, her blue eyes now blazing with fury.
‘Not in front of you, I won’t be,’ she snapped, snatching her handbag up from the floor and opening the passenger door. ‘Don’t bother getting out,’ she swept on, when his hand went towards the handle on the driver’s door. ‘You’re not coming inside. I don’t want to see you ever again.’
His eyes narrowed as he glared over at her. ‘Is that so? What about the apartment? I’ll have to see you again, if you want that.’
‘Actually, I’ve been thinking about your most generous offer,’ she lied on a surge of anger. ‘I’ve decided I don’t want it. I don’t want anything from you, Warwick Kincaid, except your absence from my life.’
‘You don’t really mean that. You’re just angry with me at the moment.’
‘Too right I am.’
‘You don’t have any right to be. I haven’t treated you badly.’
‘You used me and you know it.’
‘I told you what kind of man I was up front. I warned you that I didn’t do love and marriage, or for ever. You seemed happy enough to still come along for the ride.’
Amber shook her head in a kind of despair. ‘Yes, I did. And I feel deeply ashamed of myself for doing so. All I can say in my defence is that I didn’t really believe you could be that cold-blooded.’
‘I’m not cold-blooded, as you very well know.’ And he gave her that desire-filled look again.
Amber clenched her jaw hard. ‘I don’t want to have this conversation any more, Warwick,’ she ground out. ‘It’s over. We’re over. Just go.’