‘With air tickets?’ she checked, pouting with not so feigned jealousy as Vaughan nodded.
‘You’d think that would have sufficed. But, not happy with that, Sam decided to bully me into standing with a microphone, making a complete idiot of myself.’
‘I can’t believe you’d ever be bullied into something you didn’t want to do.’
Spreading creamy thick cheese onto a pepper cracker, she looked up to see him smiling again.
‘What?’
‘For a lactose intolerant person who’s not particularly hungry you’re doing a good job with that cheese. Don’t stop,’ he added when she put down her cracker. ‘I’m just glad I’m forgiven, that’s all.’
‘You’re not.’ Amelia grinned.
‘And you’ll never be forgiven, young lady, if you even so much as smile at my efforts on Thursday night.’
‘I can’t believe you’re so worked up about it.’ Amelia laughed. ‘Surely you’re used to public speaking? I can’t believe you’d get worked up about some tiny cocktail party for a children’s ward.’
‘I’m not getting worked up,’ Vaughan snapped, then relented with a brief nod. ‘I just can’t really picture myself working an audience, telling them to dig deep for the kids. I’m not the world’s most effusive person.’
Oh, but he was!
Staring across the table, glimpsing again that bland inscrutable face, it was hard to believe the passion that had smoldered last night—how the eyes that were guarded now had burned with fervour, how his demonstrative hands had expressed without words so many simmering feelings, how she had witnessed first hand the hidden depths of this extraordinary man.
‘How did he do it?’
She was deep in thought and his question caught her off guard. Two vertical lines appeared on the bridge of her nose as she realised the conversation had shifted to strictly personal, and that once again the subject was her.
‘How did Taylor Dean get that suspicious, cynical woman to relent?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘I do.’ Vaughan leant over the table, the motion causing his knees to brush hers, and he held his legs there, trapped her at the table with a mere touch. ‘I can’t imagine you of all people falling for a popstar. You’re not exactly…’
‘Stunning?’ Amelia offered, but immediately he shook his head.
‘You have the self-esteem of an ant, Amelia. I was about to say you’re not exactly groupie material. I just can’t picture you falling for a line.’
‘It wasn’t a line.’ Amelia blinked back at him and he saw the pain in her eyes, saw the swirling confusion still there. The pain was obviously still new. ‘At the risk of sounding like an even bigger fool, I actually think he did love me.’ She took a gulp of her water. ‘Hard to imagine, I guess.’
‘No.’ His voice was husky and thoughtful, the flip, slightly patronizing tone gone now, and he stared back at her—stared back and willed her to open up. ‘No, it isn’t actually that hard to imagine someone falling completely head over heels in love with you, Amelia. Can you tell me what happened between you and Taylor?’
He watched her face stiffen, the creamy shoulders tighten. But if it hurt to probe he didn’t care. Insatiable curiosity was burning within, that this wary, suspicious woman could ever have succumbed to the negligible charms of a man like Taylor.
‘Why?’ Amelia begged. But she already knew the answer—knew that he needed to understand why she held back. And maybe by telling him, so might she.
‘I was booked to do an interview. I had an hour slot with him. But there was a PA by his side—not a chance of digging deeper. Every time I asked something that wasn’t on the list, every time I veered off course, his PA broke in—which was annoying, but expected. It happens all the time during interviews. Only suddenly it wasn’t me getting annoyed. All of a sudden it was Taylor who was frowning at the interruptions. It was as if he really wanted to talk to me—really wanted to finally be honest. In the end he asked his PA to leave.’
Vaughan could see the tension burning in her eyes, the bat of her lids as she blinked in disbelief at her own recall.
‘I thought at the time it was because he wanted to talk, wanted to open up some more and give some honest answers for the article. I never for a moment imagined he actually wanted to get to know me.’
‘How long did you see him for?’
‘A few months.’ Amelia gave a tight shrug. ‘Which, in the scheme of things, isn’t long at all. But when I fall, I fall…’
‘And you fell?’ Vaughan checked gently.
‘Hook, line and sinker. But…’ She took a deep breath, the shame and humiliation that she’d been so naïve burning as she retold her story. ‘But so did he. He was always asking me to come and watch him perform. But with work and everything more often than not I was too busy. One day I decided to surprise him. He was singing in Brisbane and I decided what the hell? So I jumped on a plane and headed over. His PA tried to stop me from going into his hotel room…but I went in anyway. I don’t think I have to spell out what I saw…’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘So was Taylor.’ Maybe she should have had some wine after all. Recalling this was too painful for a Tuesday afternoon. ‘Devastated, actually. And I think it was genuine. He’s just too used to having too much of a good thing and too weak to say no. He swore he’d never cheat on me again, and maybe he believed it—maybe he believed at the time he was speaking the truth. But by then it didn’t matter.’
‘No second chance?’
Amelia shook her head. ‘Not for that. I think I must have been the first woman to ever dump him. He still rings, still sends flowers, still tries to convince me he’s changed.’
‘What if he has?’
‘Too late.’ Amelia shook her head firmly, but she saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes and it annoyed her. ‘It’s over, Vaughan. How could I ever trust him again? How could I ever forgive him? It has to be over.’
‘But you still have feelings?’
Oh, she had feelings. Feelings so raw they hurt. But not for Taylor. She’d ripped him out of her mind as easily as a teenager tearing down a poster. Infidelity was the one sin she could never forgive. The hurt, pain and emotion were still there, yet she was learning to live with them. But, no, it wasn’t her feelings for Taylor that terrified her now. It was her feelings for Vaughan—the one man who could do it to her all over again if she let him. The one man who could snake into her heart, into her bed. And quite simply she couldn’t bear to let him in just to watch him leave, couldn’t begin to imagine moving on from the devastation he would surely wreak, couldn’t bear to build her world from ground zero all over again.
‘I’m not a popstar, Amelia.’
His voice was as gentle as she’d ever heard it. She could still feel the weight of his knees against hers, feel his dry, hot hand coiling around her fingers, tempting her back to the forbidden garden where only last night she’d strayed.
‘I’m just a guy in a suit…’
‘You know that you’re not.’ Tears glittered in her eyes. She felt as if she’d been swimming against the tide for ever, swimming towards a bobbing life raft in the ocean only to find out it was a shark. ‘We’re from different worlds, Vaughan. You just want what you can’t have, and I’m sorry if it sounds boring, but from a relationship I want more.’
‘Such as?’
‘Safety.’ Taking a deep breath, she laid it on the line. The fact that she’d only known him a few days was irrelevant when she was staring down the barrel of a gun aimed at her heart. ‘And if that sounds boring too then I make no apology. I’ve tried the fast lane and I didn’t like it. Next time I give my heart away, Vaughan, I want the lot—marriage, kids, a partner to stand shoulder to shoulder with. A man I can trust, not someone always on the lookout for the next good thing, not someone whose ego needs constantly massaging.’
‘And is anything on that list negotiable?’
She could see a muscle f
lickering in his cheek, feel the tension in his body, his knees pressing into hers more urgently as he awaited her answer.
‘I want the lot, Vaughan,’ Amelia repeated, shaking her head.
It was as if a pin had been pushed into a balloon. The tension in the air dispersed, and the pressure on her knees was removed as Vaughan flashed her a very false smile.
‘And you deserve it.’ For the longest time his eyes sought hers, before finally they dragged away. His guard was back up, the shutters firmly down, and whatever she had said to make him keep his distance had worked a charm, because it was a stranger on the other side of the table now. Every shred of intimacy was suddenly gone. ‘You deserve every bit of it, Amelia. Don’t settle for anything less.’
‘I won’t…’ Tears were pricking now, horrible hot tears she would never let him see.
Making her excuses, Amelia fled for the safety of the washroom, where she stared at her reflection in the mirror for an age, mentally scolding herself for daring to hope.
As if Vaughan wanted the same thing—as if allowing him to glimpse her dreams would mean for a moment that he wanted to share them.
Go for it, he’d basically told her. Only not with me.
Thank God for face powder, Amelia thought ruefully. And thank God for lipgloss to add sparkle to a rather strained smile. And as she made her way back to the table suddenly her mind was back on the job, her eyes narrowing in recognition as she watched a gentleman leaving the restaurant, eyes cast downwards, collar firmly up, clearly not wanting to be seen.
‘Everything okay?’
Perhaps sensing her distraction, Vaughan eyed her with concern as she sat back down at the table, watching as she pushed a nod while nibbling nervously on her bottom lip. Those delicious eyes were distant as her hands reached out for a glass of water.
‘You look as if you’ve just seen a ghost.’
CHAPTER SIX
‘WHAT the hell was Carter doing at the restaurant?’
The one time she actually needed to speak to Paul he was completely unavailable. It had taken the best part of forty-eight hours to finally get him on the line.
‘I have no idea.’ Paul sighed. ‘Perhaps he was hungry?’
‘Don’t play games with me, Paul.’
Two days of being put on hold and speaking into his message bank had taken its toll, coupled with the fact that, judging from the frenzied activities going on in the bar on the ground floor, her and Vaughan’s idea of a cocktail party clearly differed.
The tiny informal gathering Amelia had foolishly predicted was clearly way off the mark. Every time she had graced the foyer today she had been greeted with the sight of a closed-off area and endless staff carrying fresh flowers and boxes into its dark depths. Even Vaughan had swanned down to the hotel’s health spa in his white toweling robe—no doubt to have a shave and a facial and manicure, Amelia thought. If only she’d been able to pack Shelly!
Paul giving her the runaround wasn’t helping her already frazzled nerves, and now, throwing both caution and possibly her career to the wind, Amelia let rip along the phone line to Sydney.
‘Paul, we both know Carter’s barely human. Why would he need food when he survives solely on other people’s misery? Why didn’t he come over and introduce himself? I need to know what’s going on. I need to know what it is you’ve got on Vaughan.’
‘No, Amelia, you don’t.’ Paul’s voice was non-negotiable. ‘I know and that’s enough. You just do your job and let me do mine. Keep right on buttering him up and get what you can out of him.’
‘This isn’t Chinese Torture I’m playing at here, Paul. I’m writing an article on the man, for heaven’s sake, not preparing a case for the prosecution.’
‘Carter said that you two were very cosy in the restaurant.’ Completely unmoved by her vehement denial, Paul pushed harder. ‘What were you talking about?’
‘Nothing that would interest you, Paul.’
‘Try me,’ Paul insisted.
‘As I said, it’s nothing that would interest you, because we were actually talking about me.’
Replacing the receiver, Amelia saw that her hand was shaking. The horrible truth was starting to creep in. Her supposed big break hadn’t just fallen into her lap. It had been calculated every step of the way. Carter hadn’t hot-footed it to Canberra to follow the election trail. Thumbing through her pile of newspapers, Amelia confirmed what she already knew. Carter hadn’t filed a single report. He had disappeared so that Amelia would interview Vaughan.
Dragging in air, Amelia tried to make sense of it all, tried to conjure an explanation. But nothing was forthcoming. Picking up the telephone immediately when it buzzed again, hoping against hope that it was Paul with some answers, she jumped out of her guilty skin when she realised it was Vaughan, in an unusually relaxed mode.
‘The staff were wondering what time you’re coming down. You didn’t book a time.’
‘Coming down?’ Amelia frowned into the phone.
‘To the health spa. If you want to have a massage and your make-up done, you really ought to step on it!’
‘Oh!’ Amelia chewed nervously on her bottom lip, almost whimpering at the delicious thought of a massage and facial before she braved the cool stares of Melbourne’s most elite. But, given her rather shaky relationship with her credit card at the moment she could hardly justify it—and Paul certainly wasn’t going to sign it off as a necessary claim. ‘I was just going to have a bath up here.’
‘Well, do you want them to come up to your room?’ Vaughan asked, with all the arrogance of the truly rich.
‘I can run my own bath, Vaughan,’ Amelia answered testily. ‘And I’ve had years of practice with a mascara wand.’
‘Fine,’ Vaughan clipped. ‘It just seems a shame to waste it when it’s included in the room. I’ll let them know you won’t be—’
‘It’s included in the room?’ Amelia swallowed her squeal of delight, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible as she punched the air in joy. ‘Oh, well, in that case it would be a shame to waste it. Tell them I’ll be right down.’
Vaughan was just leaving as Amelia arrived, grinning from ear to ear in her towelling robe. Like a child let loose in a sweet shop, she ran her eye along the impressive list of treatments.
‘Do you have any plans this afternoon?’ Amelia checked. ‘Anything I ought to…?’
‘Nothing.’ Vaughan smiled. ‘Take your time. You deserve an afternoon off.’
Oh, she did, Amelia thought wickedly. She decided there and then to have everything on the list—well, maybe not everything, Amelia mentally corrected, as the stragglers on her eyebrows were waxed away in seconds.
Brazilians must have a markedly high pain threshold!
Whoever had said that money didn’t buy happiness certainly hadn’t spent two hours in this hotel’s health spa being wrapped in mud, massaged, pummelled and exfoliated to within an inch of their lives, hadn’t felt the sheer bliss of a scalp massage, nor lain in a reclining chair as their finger and toenails were simultaneously painted, hadn’t known the sheer heady pleasure of staring down at two newly pretty feet that were finally actually fit for the jewelled impulse-bought sandals awaiting their mistress at the bottom of her suitcase in the top floor of the hotel! Absolute bliss!
Stepping out of the lift, padding along the floor towards her room, Amelia felt good enough about herself to smile at the stunning woman walking towards her, clouds of dark hair billowing over her shoulders, wafting a perfume that Amelia could never afford. She was more than happy to impart just a touch of her buoyant mood, and shrugged to herself when the smile wasn’t reciprocated, when the rather haunted-looking beauty pointedly avoided her gaze and walked swiftly past.
Only as she reached her room did the smile fade from Amelia’s face. The heady perfume that had filled the corridor was noticeably absent now, but Amelia knew, just knew, where the haunted beauty had come from.
Heart in her mouth, she retraced her steps, closing her
newly made-up eyes in regret as she reached Vaughan’s closed door, inhaling the heady fragrance.
Money did buy happiness.
The blissfully decadent two hours she’d just spent meant nothing now. The health spa hadn’t been included in her room…
Vaughan had conveniently got rid of her.
She sat on her bed, huddled into her robe, staring unseeing into space, appalled at the jealousy that assailed her. A full hour had passed—a full hour watching the shadows on the wall lengthen, a full hour berating herself for even daring to dream that someone like Vaughan could ever really change and, more pathetically, that she, Amelia, might be the one to change him.
She should be getting ready!
Amelia winced as she glanced at her watch, and her expression blew into a full-face grimace as a pounding on the door forced her attention. She pulled off her robe and poured herself into her dress in record time, and headed to open the door.
‘Can you sew?’
It wasn’t the greeting Amelia was expecting when she opened the door to impatient knocking.
Her lilac strappy dress really deserved the garnish of a strapless bra and heels before it was seen—not, Amelia realised, that Vaughan would notice in his current state. She flattened herself against the wall as he strode impatiently in.
Wired to the max, he practically marched into her room, impossibly restless but still beautiful in a charcoal suit, his shirt impossibly white, a dark grey silk tie hanging around an unbuttoned shirt.
‘Well, sewing’s not something I pride myself on,’ Amelia responded, deliberately missing the point. If he wanted her to sew for him then he could damn well ask her properly!
‘I’ve lost my top button.’ Vaughan attempted an explanation. ‘Housekeeping said they’d send someone to mend it, but that’s going to take for ever. I’m supposed to be down there in five minutes.’
‘Here.’ Smiling sweetly, she picked up the miniature sewing kit that hotels always provided, handing it to him and watching his frown deepen. ‘You can use this.’
He didn’t say it, but Amelia swore she could hear the irritated curse that was on the tip of his tongue. ‘Amelia—’ Taking a deep breath, attempting a pleasant smile, Vaughan tried again. ‘Would you mind sewing my top button on for me?’ He held up his arms to reveal two shiny silver cufflinks. ‘I haven’t got time to take my shirt off. Please,’ he added, completely as an afterthought, as still she stood there.
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