She hesitated, trying to read his expression. Why was he here? His personal assistant was so efficient, surely she’d told him of Andie’s proposed visit.
‘If you’re sure. Wouldn’t you prefer to negotiate with Lexie though? I mean, I realise I’m not your favourite person right now—’
‘I don’t think she needs to hear what I’ve got to say.’
‘That good, hey?’ She swallowed disappointment and despair. Whatever he wanted to say it was up to her to hear it. If she’d trusted his word, maybe they’d have remained friends of a sort.
Friends? Her heart thumped a refusal of that wishy-washy description. Mahoney had never been her friend, would never be her friend now. Nor anything else. She’d stuffed up badly with the only man who’d breached the barbed wire round her heart. Falling for her landlord was probably the most stupid thing she’d done in her life.
And that’s saying something.
She swallowed her anxiety and straightened her shoulders. She could do this.
‘Lead on, Macduff.’
‘At least that’s a change from Mahoney.’ He gestured for her to precede him up the back steps.
***
Waves on the Beach café was still busy with the late lunch crowd as Matt pulled out a cane chair for her and then settled into his. Partially hidden behind a dragon palm, their corner table was a little more intimate than she liked. She wriggled further back on her seat and breathed in deeply. Salt-tanged air filled her lungs, mixed with Mahoney’s woodsy cologne. She folded her hands neatly in her lap and forced herself to relax.
‘What do you think?’ Matt nodded at the broad sweeping curve of beach.
She examined the view through glass panels, the only thing separating them from the sand below. ‘I’ve never been down this way before. I’d no idea it would be so pretty. But I’m sure you didn’t bring me here just for that.’
‘Although it is worth admiring, no. Lunch is also on offer.’
‘Mr Mahoney—’
His eyebrow shot up and disappeared behind a windblown lock of hair. ‘Since when do I rate a mister? You’ve always called me Mahoney, though I distinctly remember asking you to use my given name.’
An impression began to form. Was he playing with her? His tone of voice, odd moments of personal references — these weren’t the things one said when any relationship, even a fake one, ended. Were they?
Confused by his attitude, she refused to rise to the bait. ‘Under the circumstances, I thought polite formality more fitting.’
‘Did you now? Well, Trouble, it turns out I don’t find it comfortable, and I don’t do polite or formal around you.’
‘I make you uncomfortable?’
‘At times.’
She looked at her tightly clenched hands resting in her lap. He must be hating this, hating her. Why hadn’t she believed him? How could she have embarrassed him as she had?
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Stop apologising. Comfortable is overrated. Anyway, I’ve discovered I prefer sparks.’
He liked arguing with her? She searched his face for answers but his expression gave nothing away. Why should she have to be the one to bring up the fake engagement? Annoyance built, adrenaline pumped as they skated around the elephant in the room.
‘You talk in riddles. Why did you bring me to lunch?’
‘The usual reason — to eat.’
‘Mahoney, give me a straight answer or I swear I’ll—’
‘What? What will you do, mavourneen? Beat me with your soup spoon?’ He nodded at her right hand.
She glanced down, surprised to find the implement clenched in her hand. She drew a calming breath and carefully replaced it, aligning it with the knife then folding her hands together in her lap. Only then did she meet his eyes.
‘You really do bring out the worst in me, Mahoney. What I did was inexcusable, and you hate my guts. I get it, that’s fair enough but I’ve apologised. I just don’t know what more I can say or do.’
His eyes brightened, widened briefly as though he was pleased. By what she’d said?
He sat back, one hand toying with the salt shaker. ‘Hmmm. A dilemma indeed. How can you make it up to me?’
Chills ran down her spine. Of course he wasn’t finished with her. She’d wronged him, and then humiliated him on live television. It was probably all over the internet by now as well.
But worse than all that was the knowledge she hadn’t trusted him. Time after time he’d shown himself to be honourable in his dealings with her, with The Shelter.
If I discount his blackmail.
Even that she could forgive, knowing his reasons for the pretence.
As the injured party, he had every reason to hate her, none to want her. Compensation in whatever form he demanded was fair.
‘Is this about revenge?’
‘Wouldn’t you agree you owe me?’
Slowly, she nodded. ‘So what am I to do for you?’ Brain buzzing with all things weird and unusual, blame that on Lexie and Fifty Shades, she held her breath. Whatever he demanded, she would try to honour.
‘I still need a fiancée.’
Except that.
She gripped the edge of her chair. All she wanted was to stand and walk away from this farce but her leg muscles quivered like jelly. They wouldn’t support her for two steps let alone through the café.
‘Surely you don’t want — you can’t expect me to…’
Hands loosely linked, he leaned forward across the table, an assessing expression in his eyes. ‘A deal is a deal, and a promise, no matter how difficult, is still a promise. Or are you going back on yours now? I’d never have thought you’d be one to welsh on your debts, Trouble.’
‘I’m not…I don’t…that is’ — she exhaled as though all the air had been punched out of her—’why continue the pretence? Doesn’t your mother know the truth?’
‘My mother is loving the idea of our engagement. It seems to have given her a new lease on life. I want to make sure she’s really settled and then suggest she moves here permanently.’
She couldn’t put her finger on it but something in his response didn’t quite ring true. The thought nagged her, even as she prevaricated. ‘You can’t really want to continue with it.’
‘On the contrary. In fact, this is absolutely the one thing I need you to do for me.’ His hot gaze ran over her face and chest, challenging her to back out.
She so wanted to.
But it wasn’t an option. If only to prove to Mahoney she could keep her word to him this time, she had to go on with the charade.
‘So our engagement is to ensure she stays long enough to grow to like Melbourne, is that it?’
‘It’s been effective so far.’
‘And she’ll live in her old home?’
‘I think it will scrub up well for city living, don’t you?’
There it was again. His answer that wasn’t quite the answer to her question. But why? What was she missing?
‘How long do you expect me to be your—?’
‘Fiancée? Well now, that depends. For the time being, I think you should wear this.’ He pushed the velvet jeweller’s box across the table.
If he wanted revenge, he couldn’t have picked a more fitting punishment. Trapped in a pretend relationship with Mahoney would be pure torture, wanting his kisses, his wild attraction, hearing the soft Irish lilt in her ear and knowing none of it was real.
Hands shaking, she opened the lid. Emerald and diamonds glinted as they caught the lowering rays of afternoon sunlight, mocking her with their promises of forever love.
‘Will you be my fiancée, Trouble?’
‘Only if I get to say when I need to use the escape clause. That’s got to be part of it.’
‘Sure you can tell me when you think you need it.’
He smiled and poured two glasses of wine to accompany their pasta linguine. Fragrant steam wafted past her nose, but she doubted she’d do the dish justice. Not while her stomach was
doing backflips over Mahoney’s demand.
Emotional turmoil aside, there remained the issue of her poor acting ability. The night at her parents’ home had highlighted her inadequacy.
‘My condition remains the same,’ she said.
‘Oh, Trouble, do you really think you’ve the right to make conditions after—’
‘Please? It’s just one little thing. I — I’ll do whatever else you ask, I’ll wear the ring, but I—’ She dragged in a ragged breath. How would she cope if he didn’t agree? ‘I need—’
‘Okay, Trouble, I get it. No kissing — unless you ask me?’
She nodded. ‘And don’t expect me to—’
From the depths of her handbag, Pink’s latest hit interrupted her tart rejoinder. She scrabbled through the oversize bag as the ring tone grew louder and seemingly more insistent. Just when she was sure she’d miss the call, her fingers closed around the vibrating phone. She checked the number — Monique — then raised apologetic eyes to Mahoney. ‘I need to take this. Excuse me.’
She tapped the accept button and summoned a smile. Her stepmother had taught her that trick when, as a gawky, shy teen, she’d worked part time as a receptionist in her father’s office for a few months.
Smile and the caller hears it in your voice, cherie.
‘Hi, Monique. How’s—’
‘Andie. We’re at the hospital. It’s your father. He’s had a heart attack.’
Chapter Twenty-One
‘The hospital’s not far, Andie.’
Matt steered the car onto the Docklands off-ramp then reached for her shaking hand. It was freezing. He risked a glance as he eased ahead of a loaded truck. Teeth biting her lower lip, her face was a picture of misery and guilt. As much as she professed to have no feelings for her father, the phone call had been a shock to her.
And to him. The rest of his plan would have to wait.
During lunch she’d been on the back foot, nervous, anxious. Part of him, a small part, had enjoyed seeing her squirm. Another part, definitely larger and growing more insistent by the minute, anticipated watching her squirm for very different reasons. Like when he made her crazy for his touch with his lips and his body.
He glanced across. Trouble sniffled and blinked rapidly.
Later, Matt. One step at a time.
Aware she was in no state of mind to listen, let alone speak, he concentrated on picking his way through mid-afternoon traffic and getting her inside the Royal Melbourne as quickly as possible. She needed his support, not his amorous advances.
‘Here we are.’ He turned into the underground car park praying it wouldn’t be full. News like she’d received was bad but, compounded by the guilt he saw in her eyes, he didn’t want to leave her alone for a second.
He knew all about that guilt. Not being there when Ma needed him, not being able to persuade her to come to Melbourne before her health deteriorated.
If Trouble was feeling half what he had, she was hurting, badly.
He opened her door, slipped an arm around her waist and hurried across to the lifts. He wanted to hear her object to his arrogant invasion of personal space, his casual expectation of her agreement to his fake engagement, anything to see that spark back in her eyes.
None of those things happened. But Trouble held his hand as though he were her lifeline. And he liked it that way.
They rode the lift to reception, then another lift to the fourth floor.
‘What if he’ — her chest rose and fell with each rapid, shuddery breath — ‘what if—?’
‘Let’s find out first before you start beating up on yourself.’ He turned to the nurse on reception. In a voice far more confident than he felt, he asked for de Villiers’ room.
‘Are you family?’
‘Andrea is his daughter.’
The nurse consulted her screen. ‘Room 405. His wife is with him now.’
At last, Andie found her voice, high and breathy. ‘Is he okay? Can I see him?’
Beneath his arm he felt her breath shudder as she forced the words past stiff lips. He tugged her in closer to his side, his firm hold aiming to convey warmth, reassurance, support.
I’m here for you.
Now wasn’t the time to say it. He had to show her he would be there.
‘He’s stable. Two visitors at a time though. Immediate family only.’ The nurse smiled apologetically at him and he nodded his thanks.
‘Come on, Andie. Monique’s with him and he’s stable. That’s good news.’ He squeezed her hand and led her down the hall.
Outside the closed door, she jerked to a stop, all but dragging him with her as she pressed against his arm. Wide and full of fear, her eyes were like those of a trapped creature, fixed on the wood separating her from her father.
‘What is it?’
‘What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if…if he’s not okay? What if—?’
With an outward show of confidence, he cupped her cheek, gently rubbing his thumb across her pale skin. ‘And what if he’s happy to see you? Have you thought of that, Trouble?’
She pressed her free hand over her mouth and gulped down a sob. The other hand was still in his grasp. He raised it to his lips and kissed it gently, then squeezed.
‘You won’t know until you see him. My bet is that he wants to see you’ — he paused, wondering whether to continue then ploughed on — ‘maybe as much as you want to see him?’
Her eyes widened. Seconds passed as she stared at him.
Fear, doubt, longing, he could read her uncertainty. The bad feeling between father and daughter was naught at a time like this. Only the love was important and Andie had so much to give. Reconciliation with her father could happen. She wanted it.
And what he’d seen that first night at de Villiers’ home, he was pretty sure her father did too. The threat of losing one another was tipping the balance.
He pressed on. ‘You do, don’t you? Because in spite of everything he’s your father and you care about him.’
Eyes brimming and lips trembling, she nodded.
Very slowly, he brushed away the tear that had escaped down her cheek.
‘Okay then.’ He kissed the edge of her mouth. ‘In you go.’
He tapped on the door then nudged her into the room. Over the top of her head he saw Monique smile at her stepdaughter. Monique caught his eye, and then nodded. He’ll be okay.
In the bed lay her husband, Trouble’s father. Wired up to beeping machines, his face was pale but his eyes opened at Monique’s touch on his arm.
‘Andie’s here, mon cher. With Matthew.’
‘I’ll leave you in peace. Only two visitors at a time they said. I’ll wait down the hall.’ Gently, he closed the door and wandered back to find the waiting area.
Despite soothing pastels and a couple of oversize pot plants, nothing could make the waiting area relaxed. Human emotions in turmoil over a loved one just didn’t respond to external factors like these. He knew. He’d waited in a similar area with Ma the day Paddy died. Forever stamped in his psyche was the grim association of hospital with death.
Paddy’s death. Ma’s health scares when he wondered if he was to lose her too.
He swallowed and paced to the window. Shoving his hands in his pockets, jaw clenched, he steeled himself to wait for Trouble’s news.
He needed her as much as she needed him. Even if she didn’t know it yet.
Sunlight broke through clouds and altered the Melbourne cityscape spread out below. Shifting patterns of light highlighted spring green leaves sprouting from nearby trees, and the clearing skies lifted his spirits. Connection with the outdoors calmed his tumultuous memories.
The door opened behind him and he turned to see Monique.
‘Matthew? Thank you for being there for Andie and for driving her. I was so worried how she’d react when she got the news.’
‘Just lucky we were having lunch when you rang. How’s your husband?’
Monique looked at him, a quizzical expres
sion on her face. ‘Lunch? Well—’ She shook her head. Answers to those questions would keep for now. ‘He’s asking to speak with you.’
It was his turn to speculate. Why did Gerald de Villiers want to speak to him? ‘Why?’
She raised her shoulders in an elegant shrug. ‘He just asked to see you. Andie’s still with him. Honestly, Matthew, I don’t know what it’s about, but seeing Andie seems to have eased his mind.’
He moved to the door. Monique reached out as he passed her and placed her hand on his arm. ‘Thank you, Matthew.’
‘For bringing her here? Anyone would have done the same.’
She smiled and patted his arm. ‘Anyone who cared about her as you do. But also for believing in Andie enough to offer that other house.’
‘It’s little enough for disrupting the service and support she and Lexie offer.’
‘You don’t understand. With the new property, there is a real chance they’ll get their accreditation.’
He frowned. What was he missing here? ‘They’d have got it anyway. It’s a necessary service.’
Monique steepled her fingers and tapped her chin, eyeing him keenly. ‘You really didn’t know, did you? When you offered for the building, Gerald was convinced you knew too.’
‘Knew what? I only found out about The Shelter when I called on Andie after the fundraiser. What did Gerald think I knew?’
Monique sat gracefully on the hard sofa, patted the seat beside her and smiled in invitation.
He sat and half turned to watch her. Gerald de Villiers had played a close hand if there was council involvement he and Dave hadn’t uncovered. A sinking feeling hit his gut.
What else could go wrong with the renovation? Was it jinxed or was it just that he wanted it too much?
At least now Ma’s here she’s more likely to stay. But what is it with that building?
‘My husband found out through a friend at the city council that Andie’s application was going to be knocked back. They weren’t going to get the funding.’
Trouble’s funding, not his application was the issue? It didn’t make him feel better. And Trouble hadn’t known. She’d worked her heart out to keep a roof over the heads of the women and children at The Shelter and the council was going to pull the pin on them.
Engaging the Enemy Page 16