‘I don’t think so.’
‘My father told me.’
His eyes narrowed and his body towered over her as he moved into her personal space. ‘And who’s your father?’
She swallowed the hurt that rose each time she thought of her father. Would she ever get past his anger, his rejection?
Be brave, Andie. Matt’s probably a businessman too. None of them like to think their secrets are common knowledge. Think of the kids and their mums.
‘He’s in construction but he’s got nothing to do with anything. Look, if you know Mahoney, could you point him out to me? Please?’ Subconsciously, Andie clasped her hands together in the space between them.
‘What sort of construction? And why do I get the feeling that you’re not part of the regular wait staff? Tell me, what do you want with Mahoney?’
‘That’s my business—’
‘Ah, but mavourneen, you’ve chosen to ask for my help now, haven’t you? You’ve asked me to point out the guest speaker for tonight after tipping wine all over me. That gives me the right to ask questions.’ His voice was tempered steel wrapped in silk and Irish burr. Soft, like spring rain, and so beguiling she almost forgot her plan.
‘Was that accident planned?’ His question startled her.
‘What—’
Involuntarily, she met his probing look and sucked in a panicked breath while moisture fled from her mouth.
So much for listening to his voice all night. Now what? Damn and blast.
Playing for time, she touched her tongue to the corner of her mouth. She wouldn’t be bullied by a smooth talker, or seduced by a soft voice. Steeling her spine, she forced herself to maintain eye contact and pushed her voice out from a tight throat. ‘Of course not. I meant to tip my tray over Mahoney, not you.’
His eyes widened. ‘You planned to douse Mahoney in champagne?’
‘Of course. Why would I want to get your attention?’
One side of his mouth lifted and a dark gleam, dangerous and daring, flashed in his eyes. ‘I can think of one or two reasons.’
His gaze settled on her lips and Andie’s cheeks heated. He was flirting with her? She bit down on her lower lip. Could this evening get any more bizarre?
He placed a hand on the counter either side of her hips. Silk sleeves brushed her bare forearm and she shivered. Trapped against the edge of the counter, she felt cold steel digging into her back and testosterone-fuelled male heating her front.
Deep breath, Andie. She sucked in air and her breasts brushed his chest. Beneath the navy waistcoat of her uniform, her nipples tightened. He was crowding her, filling her space and her vision. All she could see were his lips, and the image of them descending on hers. Oh yes, there were two very good reasons to attract his attention right in front of her.
‘I need to talk with him.’ Was that husky voice coming from her? She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘It’s really important.’
‘Why?’
Just one word, monosyllabic and monotone. She lifted her gaze.
Midnight-blue eyes looked darkly back and a muscle flickered in his jaw. Definitely not flirting. He meant business.
She closed her eyes briefly.
Not so brave now, Andie.
She dredged deep for her faltering courage. It came with the memory of young Jordan’s arms wrapped around her neck in a sticky hug and his cheeky grin. If she didn’t take this opportunity, he and his mum and all the others would be homeless within a week.
Lift your head and look Matt in the eye like a big girl.
She straightened her shoulders and opened her eyes.
For Jordan, and for all the others depending on me.
‘Why? He’s refused to meet with me and I have to talk to him. Let him know of the lives he’s ruining by his thoughtless demolition plans.’
Colour rose along Matt’s cheek bones and his nostrils flared.
You idiot. You’ve done it again. Just blurted out your feelings without thinking of the consequences. What if they’re friends?
She’d probably blown her only chance. ‘I’m sorry if—’
‘Darlin’, you really are crazy. Mahoney would never harm women and children. For Chris’sakes, he supports charities to help them, like this one tonight. Why would he be kicking them onto the street? And besides, do you think he’d listen after you tipped wine on him?’
‘You tell me. Sorry. I thought you were a man who’d listen to a plea for help but you might as well be Mahoney.’
‘I am.’
She closed her eyes to shut out his angry face. Her throat tightened and she struggled to speak past the lump wedged there. How could she have squandered the opportunity when she’d been talking to her quarry these past minutes? ‘Mr Mahoney? But you’re not—’ She swallowed and tried again. ‘I just want to—’
‘Do you go looking for trouble?’
From the function room beyond the door, a brief crackle of microphone feedback flared. ‘I’d like to take a few moments to acknowledge the work of our wonderful committee and the chairman of our board.’ Muted by the kitchen wall and clashing of pans, Mahoney’s introduction and welcome barely registered.
Muttering an oath, he pushed away from the counter and took a couple of steps toward the door.
With an instinct born of desperation, Andie turned and grabbed his jacket to her chest then met his piercing glare.
‘Please, Mr Mahoney. Won’t you at least meet with me to talk about our Shelter?’
‘My building is supposed to be empty. If you’re in it, then you’re squatting and I have every right to turf you out.’ He plucked his jacket from her clutch and shoved his arms into the sleeves. With an elegant shrug he settled the jacket on broad shoulders that looked even bigger under the dark cloth. A grimace clouded his face as he fastened the buttons and screwed up his nose. ‘I smell like a winery.’
‘Will you stop the demolition and save the building for women in need?’
‘To repeat, it’s none of your business. And if anyone is in my building, I suggest you tell them to pack up and move out. Now.’ He moved to the exit as the audience laughed at the MC’s speech.
‘Please? Would you just come down and see The Shelter?’
He paused with his hand on the door. From the stage, the MC encouraged the audience. ‘Please welcome the chair of the foundation, Mr Matthew Mahoney.’
‘Goodnight, Trouble.’
The door swung closed behind him.
Chapter Two
‘Told you it wouldn’t work.’
Lexie Hamilton-Smythe perched on the sloping arm of the faded club chair and rubbed Andie’s shoulder as she leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. Two o’clock in the morning and failure were a horrible combination.
Andie groaned. ‘He was completely uninterested in hearing what I told him.’
‘And this surprises you — why?’ Lexie slapped her hands on her thighs and stood, wagging her finger at Andie. ‘Why would you think any man would be willing to listen to you after you’d doused him in champers? Honestly, Andie. You are a beautiful soul and I love you like a sister. But when it comes to confrontation, you’re a babe in the woods. You’re lucky he didn’t demand to have you thrown out on your ear.’
‘And thanks for that vote of confidence.’ Andie slumped against the back of the chair and glared at her best friend.
‘Are you rolling your eyes at me, Andrea? You know how that makes me feel.’ Lexie leaned a hip against the solid wooden desk and crossed her arms.
Andie snorted and shook her head. ‘Enough of the Fifty Shades cracks, alright?’
‘Are you still feeling sorry for yourself?’
‘No. Can’t stay mad or sad for long around you, girl.’ She stretched one arm and her shoulder cracked loudly in the quiet of early morning.
‘God, how I ache! I had to work for four hours setting up that damned ballroom before the evening began. I lugged those fancy heavy chairs around a zillion tables. And I th
ought I was fit. It was more thorough than a gym workout, that’s for sure. Then Mahoney was late arriving.’
Lexie uncrossed her arms and squatted beside the chair.
‘You’re complaining about one day of physical work? Think of Alice with her children, or young Sami and Jordan. Or any of the others here. They’re bending, carrying, working all day minding little ones. When the going gets tough, just picture them.’
Andie rubbed her eyes and blinked. ‘I know. How do these mums do it all day with three or four little ones hanging off them?’
‘Atta girl. Nervous energy and a long day make it hard to keep your perspective. Sleep on it and we’ll consider a new plan of attack in the morning.’ Lexie grabbed her hands and hauled her up. ‘Want a cuppa before you turn in?’
‘No thanks.’ She yawned and stumbled to the camp bed in the corner. ‘I’ll bed down here now. And Lexie—’
Lexie paused, hand on the door knob and eyebrows raised. ‘You’re not going to start making speeches, are you? You’ve got that look on your face.’
Andie bit down on the half-formed plan. Blurting it out now after her disastrous evening would annoy pragmatic Lexie. And it had been a ridiculous idea. Even she knew that — now. She forced a quick smile and met her best friend’s eyes.
‘Just — thanks for being here. Night.’
‘Night, bella.’ Lexie flicked off the light switch and gently closed the door behind her, leaving the room bathed in the softer glow of reflected street light. If only Andie could turn off the switch in her mind as easily.
Visions of Matt Mahoney danced in her head, taunting her with what-ifs and might-have-beens. His actions after his wine christening had been those of a decent kind of guy. Heck, he’d even offered to make things right with her boss. How could a man considerate enough to care about the job security of hired staff turn around and tell her to move mums and kids out of The Shelter? The contradiction confused her and, right now, all she wanted was to get clean and then sleep more than four hours straight.
Andie tugged off her uniform. Ugh — patches of wine had soaked through to her skin. Tired as she was, she needed to scrub away the stickiness and heartache of the evening. Could she avoid waking the women and children in the dorm as she sneaked through to the shower?
Streetlights and the flickering neon sign of the pizzeria on the corner of the laneway illuminated the office as she slipped off her shoes. When her eyes had adjusted to the low light, she grabbed a towel from her overnight bag and wrapped it around her. No need to dress just for a quick bathroom trip.
Tiptoeing like a drunk through the dorm, she crept past the sleeping forms of The Shelter’s newest little family, three kids under five with their mum who should have been at uni and partying instead of running for her life. The oldest daughter had kicked off her sheet, the Princess Barbies on her PJs just discernible as Andie gently pulled the covers back over her.
How could she allow her worries to seem more important than what these kids and their mum faced every day?
Andie opened the door to the bathroom, pausing when the loose hinges creaked loudly. None of the children reacted and she released her breath. Another job to add to her already epic to-do list. At least the pipes didn’t clang.
Lukewarm water sputtered from the old-fashioned shower head but it was better than a cold wash. She stepped under the spray and reached for the soap. Light from the street lamp poured through the round stained-glass window.
What an extravagance, stained-glass panels in the bathroom. Must have been a posh home before it became a pub.
Splashes of jewel colours bathed her body like a living canvas. She paused to admire the patterns as she turned slowly under the stream of water. Red, green and, along her arm, deep blue. Like a pair of warm eyes on a hunky male. And not just any male.
Matt Mahoney.
Duplicitous, unscrupulous, calculating, drop-dead gorgeous Matt.
Damn him. And damn her for the fool she was. If only the internet at The Shelter had worked and she hadn’t run out of credit on her phone, she would have had a photo of the man before she set off on her hare-brained adventure. She’d have known Matt was Mahoney and maybe done better presenting her case. Instead, she’d been wrong footed from the beginning and had lost the chance to make him see the injustice of taking away this shelter from the women and kids who depended on it.
She grabbed the sponge and scrubbed at the blue patch until her arm tingled. It made no sense but it released some of the aggression zinging through her brain.
There, Mr Matt Mahoney — I’ll rub you out of my thoughts, just like that.
She stepped to the side and turned off the taps, regarding the redness of her arm with a masochistic sense of pleasure. An elongated patch of green light fell across her hips and the blue now coloured her chest. She groaned.
I’m gonna break that damned window glass.
She stepped out of the shower stall and grabbed her towel off the hook. A few quick swipes, and then she wrapped it around her body and crept back through the dorm to her narrow bed in the office.
She just knew that Wrong Matt — Mahoney, she reminded herself — would invade her dreams as he had her personal space tonight.
Last night. Whatever.
Failure had assumed a face and body, and her nemesis was determined to haunt her. Wouldn’t he laugh if he knew just how complete his victory was?
Chapter Three
Matt leaned back in his chair and plunged his fingers through his hair, eyeing David Greene, his 2IC — second-in-charge — with annoyance.
‘You told me this deal was “in the bag”, Dave. So tell me, why was I accosted at the fundraiser by a little firebrand spitting accusations that I’m tipping women and children out on the street?’
Firebrand indeed.
Red curls and a delicate blush on high cheekbones had piqued his interest but her air of vulnerability had hooked him. He’d almost offered her a job before that ridiculous show of bravado. Then her confession had made him question his ability to read people.
Dave leaned an elbow on the desk and fiddled with the knot of his impeccably knotted tie. ‘There’s not supposed to be any tenants left in that building. We were assured when we made the offer it would be available immediately and untenanted.’
‘Did the owner himself give you that assurance?’
‘Er…yes. Before we signed he said there was a group using it but he’d give them notice to quit. They didn’t have a formal lease.’
‘Did you check? Go down there and personally inspect? Send anyone to inspect the site?’ Matt sat forward abruptly and Dave leaned back in his chair. ‘Just what part of “check the details” did you follow before we signed this deal? Because I’m sure when we discussed the need for rapid movement to secure this project, I also stressed the need for immediate vacant access. And the need for secrecy.’
Dave tugged at his ear lobe and frowned.
A sinking feeling weighed down Matt’s stomach. He always personally oversaw major purchases and this one was the most important of his life, although Dave didn’t know all the details. If his mother’s health scare hadn’t drawn him home to Donegal at the critical stage of negotiations, he’d never have handed his dream project to anyone else. But his 2IC had been confident he could handle it. Had he put his trust in the wrong man?
Fixing the man across the desk in his sights, he wondered again if he’d been shafted. ‘Tell me, how could little Miss Trouble know about the sale? Did you talk to anyone?’
Dave’s eyes widened, his mouth dropped open and his cheeks shaded to a dull red. ‘It’s not possible.’
Matt’s throat tightened and his jaw ached as he held back an oath. His gran’s words echoed down the years: There’s many a slip between cup and lip.
Boy, what a slip this was. Just when the project looked certain — he knew it had gone too smoothly.
Calm, boyo. Keep a clear head now. What’s Dave not telling me?
He forced himse
lf to take two long, deep breaths. ‘What’s not possible? Does this have something to do with last night?’
Dave grimaced, obviously reluctant to continue this conversation. ‘Maybe.’
Had Dave exchanged pillow talk with the waitress? Was that how she’d known about the sale?
‘Who is that woman to you? Do you know her?’
Dave’s cheeks deepened to fire-engine red and Matt’s vision hazed. The thought he was going to lose the dream because Dave made pillow talk with Trouble left a sour taste in his mouth.
‘She’s your girlfriend?’
‘No. No, she’s not my girlfriend.’
His annoyance with Dave eased a little. So Trouble wasn’t Dave’s girlfriend.
But he wants her to be. And why should that matter to me?
He put the thought aside for the moment. ‘But you know her?’
Dave met his direct gaze. ‘I know who it could be. There’s a woman who runs a place called The Shelter. Lexie is ballsy enough to have turned up at last night’s do.’
‘The Shelter, yes, she mentioned that name.’
So — Trouble’s name was Lexie. But ballsy? It had to be her although he wouldn’t have described her that way. More like fireworks. Unexpected, random and beautiful. Even through spilled wine and his annoyance, her red-haired, green-eyed beauty had beckoned him.
Pulling his attention back to Dave, Matt pressed on with his interrogation. ‘And did you tell Lexie about the sale? Because ‘tis sure I didn’t go blathering it about town.’
Damn, would he ever control his accent? Anger tended to bring out his Irish brogue.
With a concentrated effort, he focused his attention back on the problem. ‘Okay, so we attempt to contain this story while re-housing tenants you’ve overlooked.’
Dave perched on the edge of his seat and grimaced. ‘I’ll check it out immediately. Believe me, I’ll look after it.’
Matt paused. For the second time in twenty-four hours he wondered if he could trust his instincts. He’d been wrong about the waitress last night too.
Strike two?
Engaging the Enemy Page 2