by Emma Darcy
This was the point of no return.
Total bankruptcy or twenty-six nights with Quin.
Her chest felt very tight.
Don’t think about it, she fiercely told herself.
Just do it.
CHAPTER FIVE
NICOLE tried to relax as the train carried her into the city centre for her rendezvous with Quin. The day had been loaded with stress—many phone-calls checking if the money had come through, confirming that all debts had been paid on time. Also, it had been impossible to avoid telling her mother how the miracle had come about since the two nights out a week had to be explained, especially since tonight was the first one. She needed her mother to look after Zoe.
The relief of having been saved from bankruptcy had quickly disintegrated into hand-wringing guilt over the deal Nicole had made with Quin Sola. “You would never have gone back to him but for me,” her mother had wailed.
“It’s only three months, Mum,” Nicole had argued. “It won’t kill me. In fact, it’s much more acceptable than having to lose this home and the dancing school.”
Which would have totally devastated her mother.
Nicole knew that her own qualifications, persistence and presentation would have eventually won a job somewhere in the finance world—a job with a big enough salary to support them. This would not have been the end for her. But these losses, on top of the loss of her beloved second husband, would have tipped her mother into a deeper depression, possibly paralysing her will to do anything. Perhaps now, some sense of responsibility for getting into this mess might pull her into plotting some positive course for her future with the dancing school.
The train arrived at Circular Quay and Nicole promptly disembarked. Quin’s e-mail had instructed her to meet him at a restaurant called Pier Twenty-One, situated on Benelong Point near the Opera House. She glanced at her watch as she started the walk past the ferry terminal. It was a few minutes short of eight o’clock, the nominated time.
She walked fast, not wanting to be late. Quin had kept his word. Keeping hers was essential. It was not only a matter of integrity, but pride, as well. She would not give Quin any cause to criticise her over the delivery of her side of the deal. He had paid out a phenomenal amount of money for his twenty-six nights.
Nevertheless, she had baulked at dressing up as though for a dinner date. There was no romance in this arrangement and she didn’t want Quin to think there could be in her mind. If he chose to spend his time with her eating in a restaurant—fine!—she would eat with him. No doubt they would eventually end up in bed together, which was what tonight was really about.
She’d decided to wear jeans, flat walking sandals and one of the filmy floral tops that were currently fashionable for teaming with jeans—day or night. She would wear the same things when she left him tomorrow morning. Her small overnight bag only held some toiletry articles and a change of underwear. As long as her mind was set on conducting this specifically limited affair on a completely practical basis, she should not get into an emotional tangle over it.
Quin’s table had a front row view of the passing parade of people; commuters catching a ferry home, tourists taking in the sights of arguably the most spectacular harbour in the world, theatre-goers heading for their choice of entertainment; concert, ballet, play, opera. The outdoors dining section of the restaurant extended out beyond the great marble colonnade that sheltered the many boutiques, bars and restaurants along the way to the huge Opera House forecourt. It was a fine summer evening, a fantastic setting, but Quin’s entire focus was fixed on watching for Nicole.
He had no doubt she would turn up at the appointed time and place, probably arriving at the quay early to ensure punctuality, and loitering somewhere nearby so as not to give him more of herself than she had to. Quin had no illusions about what had driven her to this deal—extreme duress over a financial situation, linked to a highly personal sense of payback for how he had conducted their previous relationship. It was the latter motivation that exercised his mind now. The money side of it was done.
He wanted sex with her and he would certainly have it, but his prime directive tonight was to challenge where she was coming from, sabotage her game-plan, make her play to his rules. She’d put a fire in his belly last night. The fight was on to get everything he wanted from Nicole Ashton and with twenty-six nights up his sleeve, Quin was confident of carrying out a siege that would eventually smash her defences and make her surrender all she was to him.
He’d had that once from her.
He wanted it again, free of the demons that had driven much of his life.
There she was!
Nothing hesitant about her approach.
She was striding out, unhampered by any tight sexy skirt or high heels. Her long legs were clad in blue denim and the flat sandals on her feet signalled casual comfort had priority over any female urge to excite desire in him. Clearly she didn’t care what he thought or felt. It was unimportant to her. Her head was bent in private thought, a look of determined purpose on her face. She wasn’t looking for him. She was simply making her way to the meeting place.
He noted the overnight bag she was carrying—only big enough to hold a few essentials—definitely no frills on Nicole’s agenda tonight. Her long curly hair was loose, no tantalising pins to remove. The top she wore was more feminine than the unisex jeans, but not a look at me garment. Quin smiled to himself. If she thought her presentation would put him off the merchandise, she could think again.
As though she suddenly sensed his scrutiny, her head lifted, gaze swinging sharply towards where he sat, connecting with his, flashing a wry acknowledgment of game on. Her feet halted as she watched him rise from the table, ready to greet her. Quin felt his body zinging with anticipation. A strong blast of intuition told him she was eyeing the enemy before engaging with him. Retreat was not in the air. Let the battle begin, Quin thought, holding out an open hand to draw her in.
Nicole ignored the accelerated pounding of her heart and put on a determinedly cheerful face as she walked forward to greet the man who’d paid the price she’d put on herself. Since he would now expect value for it, an initial smile seemed the best way to get proceedings onto reasonably pleasant terms.
“Quin…” She took his hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Thank you for making the money available so quickly. It made today much less difficult than it could have been.”
Just as well she had prepared that little speech because Quin’s strong magnetism was zapping all the sensible thoughts out of her mind. The mere touch of his hand was shooting electric tingles up her arm. She’d put half a world between them to get away from the sexual hold he’d once had on her. Distance had not diminished the power of his attraction but she simply couldn’t afford to fall victim to it this time. Somehow she had to keep whatever happened between them contained.
“I’ve built my business on being efficient and effective,” he replied.
“Not to mention ruthless,” she slung at him, the words tripping off her tongue, regardless of her earlier resolve not to revive old emotional wounds. Even worse, she withdrew her hand so quickly, her fingernails scraped along his.
His grey eyes glittered with sardonic amusement. “I wondered how long it would take for the claws to come out.”
“Sorry. I probably need a manicure.”
“I was referring to your description of me.”
Ruthless?
“Oh, come now,” she chided. “You can’t deny one of your greatest attributes—setting a goal and going after it with single-minded dedication.”
“I’ll concede that attitude has served me well, for the most part.”
“Got the results you wanted,” she pushed derisively.
“More often than not. I’ve even got you, Nicole. Which just goes to prove that a huge loss can be recovered—” he grinned provocatively as he added “—if one is ruthless enough.”
She raised a mocking eyebrow. “Or prepared to sacrifice a great dea
“But it’s not a sacrifice. It’s an investment in the future.”
“A very short-term future.”
“We’ll see.” He gestured to the chair opposite his at the table. “Please join me. I’ve ordered champagne to celebrate the beginning of a new chapter in our lives.”
Not so new, she thought caustically, curbing her tongue as she settled on the chair. The adrenaline rush of crossing swords with Quin needed to be curbed, as well. It drew her into revealing how much he could still get under her skin and she didn’t want to give him that satisfaction.
He signalled to a waiter to open the bottle of champagne which was sitting in an ice-bucket, conveniently placed on a portable stand beside their table. The waiter handed them menus and reeled off a list of chef’s specials as he uncorked the bottle and filled their glasses.
“We’ll both have a dozen oysters followed by the lobster in butter sauce with a side salad,” Quin said, abrogating any choice Nicole might have made.
She didn’t bother protesting, though once the waiter had left she dryly commented, “I might have wanted something else.”
“You’ve got what you wanted, Nicole.” He lifted his glass in a toast. “Here’s to what I want.”
She fiddled with her glass, watching him sip the champagne, his eyes challenging her to make some issue on how he was handling the situation. He knew she loved seafood and had invariably ordered it whenever they had dined out in the past. Lobster was terribly expensive, so in fact he was giving her treat. And knew it. But he was also claiming absolute dominance during her time with him.
“If you want your pound of flesh, Quin, why have me meet you in such a public place?” She gestured to the milling crowd of passers-by.
“They say the flesh is sweeter closer to the bone. I don’t mind taking my time working down to it.”
Peeling off layer and layer of protective skin, Nicole thought, a convulsive little shiver running down her spine. She couldn’t let Quin get too close to her. He might tear her apart if she didn’t remain on guard.
“Why not relax?” he invited with a teasing smile. “Obviously you are completely safe here amongst so many people. The night is young and I’m perfectly happy to revel in the exquisite pleasure of anticipation.”
“Right!” She lifted her glass, determined on blocking out the more intimate future for a while. “Here’s to fine food…”
“Fine company,” Quin slid in.
“And fine wine,” she finished pointedly, sipping the champagne which was, indeed, very fine.
Nevertheless, it was impossible to relax with Quin sitting opposite her, watching her, silently revelling in his plans for tonight. Get his mind off them, she told herself. Ask him questions. Persist until he did talk about himself. He might even give her answers this time around.
“So how is the banking world these days?” she started.
He shrugged. “I run my own finance company now.”
“Trading profitably?”
“That’s what I do.”
“Tell me about it,” she invited.
“The money business is no different to when you were working in a bank, Nicole.”
“But the transition from being employed to—”
“The work is the same,” he cut her off. “I’d find it far more interesting to hear why you’ve chosen to teach dancing.”
“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” she flared at him.
His eyes glittered with challenging speculation. “What do you want to change about me?”
Nicole quickly retreated from any personal element. “I’m not interested in changing you, Quin,” she stated flatly. “I was merely commenting.”
“On what?”
She shrugged. “You don’t open up about yourself.” Suddenly seeing a line of attack, she added, “It makes me wonder what you’re afraid of revealing.”
“Fear doesn’t enter into it,” he answered.
“What does then?”
The waiter arrived with their first course. Nicole stared down at the oysters as he refilled their glasses before leaving the two of them alone again.
“This is just what you’re like,” she shot at Quin. “An oyster with an impenetrable shell.”
“I’ll let you eat me tonight,” he said wickedly.
Sex! That’s all it had ever been with Quin. He’d probably ordered the oysters because they were supposed to be an aphrodisiac. She picked up her fork and ate them, her mind skating around memories of Quin’s body—his sexually aroused naked body—and how wildly they’d made love in the past. Except it hadn’t been making love. It was just sex! Which was what she had to remember at all times with him.
“So why are you working at a dance school, Nicole?” he asked when the plates had been cleared away.
She looked directly into his penetrating grey eyes and defiantly answered, “Private reasons.”
His mouth took on an ironic twist. “You know, money always leaves a trail. Mortgage on the school, mortgage on a house, big debt to a money-lender—all attached to one name, and that name is not yours. Who is Linda Ellis?”
The question tapped into a bank of resentment that had never been resolved. “You’d know if you’d ever accepted one of my invitations to meet my mother.”
He ignored her reference to the old bone of contention between them. “Your mother. Why the different name?”
“A second marriage.”
“Does she have a gambling problem?”
“No. What happened will not happen again.”
“How can you be sure of that?”
“Because my stepfather is dead.”
Her bald statement gave him pause for thought, a deep frown drawing his black eyebrows together. “He bled her of all that money?” he finally asked.
“No. The people who held out false hope bled her of all that money.”
She heard the angry frustration in her voice, saw the sharp questions in his eyes and knew she might as well explain how the debts had mounted up, stop any further unwelcome speculation on the subject.
“Harry had liver cancer. My mother spent the last two years of his life taking him around the world to quacks and clinics that promised cures. She wouldn’t give up. If there was any chance, any way—” Nicole sighed and gestured her own helplessness over the situation. “It didn’t matter what it cost, she kept getting the money to do it. Harry was not going to die because they didn’t have the money to save him.”
“Blind faith,” Quin muttered.
“She loved him,” Nicole said defensively, ashamed of her own exasperation with her mother’s belief in people who’d preyed on her desperation. It had been hard losing her father when she was fifteen, no doubt even harder for her mother. The thought of losing Harry, too, had probably been unbearable.
“The price of love,” Quin mused with a quirky little smile. “The same price I’ve just paid for you, Nicole. Maybe I should have negotiated for two years instead of taking only three months.”
“Not at all. You’ve got prime time,” she retorted mockingly. “Lust burns out much faster than love.”
He laughed, adding a megawatt attraction to his handsome face. A warm flood of pleasure swept through Nicole, forcing her to acknowledge that no man before or since Quin Sola had done this to her, arousing such strong feelings she had to ride through them because there was no blocking them.
He leaned towards her, forearms on the table, his eyes dancing with a wicked inner joy. “I have missed you, Nicole,” he purred. “Missed you very much.”
“Not enough to drop everything and chase after me when I left you,” she flipped at him as she leaned away, pressing against the back-rest of her chair, needing to put some steel in her spine, bringing out memories of the past to shield her from the weakening effect of his personal charisma.
His shoulders straightened, the twinkle in his eyes sharpening to a hard glitter. “Proving your power over me? I didn’t have time for such games.”
“You didn’t have time for me.”
“Not as much as you wanted, no,” he retorted, his voice gathering a harsh intensity. “But more than I’ve given any other woman, before or since.”
“Am I supposed to feel flattered by that?”
“Just stating a fact.”
Nicole’s cheeks were burning from the hot rush of aggression he’d stirred. She bit her lips, fiercely telling herself to retreat to a neutral place. This kind of exchange was not going to serve any good purpose. Though despite her attempt to regain a calmer composure, her hackles rose again when Quin smiled with wolfish satisfaction.
“You know what is worth every cent of my investment, Nicole?”
She shrugged, pretending disinterest.
“You’re honour bound to stay with me—like it or not—for twenty-six nights. No running away from what we are together.”
“What are we, Quin?” she asked with arch carelessness.
“I intend for us to be unstoppable.”
“And I intend for us to be finally finished.”
He grinned, not the least bit turned off by her claim.
He was still grinning as the waiter arrived, served their lobsters and refilled their glasses.
Quin lifted his champagne and said with a lilt of elation, “To a fine start and an even finer finish.”
Nicole held her tongue.
But she did lift her glass derisively and drank to his toast. It meant nothing, she told herself. She wouldn’t let it. The one thing she was certain about—Quin couldn’t be trusted to commit himself to anything other than making money.
CHAPTER SIX
NOW to the business end of the evening, Nicole thought, as they left the restaurant. The skin-prickling awareness of Quin walking beside her and the treacherous excitement he generated, made it extremely difficult to keep a level head and an objective attitude about what was going to happen when they reached his apartment.
“It’s only a short stroll,” he said amiably, showing no tension whatsoever over being with her.
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