Clem eased her hand out of his hold before she was tempted to caress him back. ‘Forget about it. I already have.’ Not quite true. She could still taste the heat of him. The sexy male, mint and coffee combo that made her senses shudder in delight.
‘Do you want to grab something to eat while we’re here?’
Clem wasn’t sure if the invitation was an olive branch or a ploy to keep his eye on the crowds milling in and out of the casino. But her stomach was growling loud enough for people on the other side of the street to hear it. ‘Sure. But we might have to wait ages for a table. It looks pretty crowded.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Clem waited while he spoke to the head waiter. The exchange was in fluent French. She hadn’t realised he could speak it but then, unlike her, he’d had an excellent education. He probably spoke several languages. It made the differences in their background all the more stark. And, when the waiter’s gaze swept over her when he came to lead them to the table he had found for them, Clem felt those differences all the more acutely. The waiter was polite and professional but she could still see the slight elevation of his brows at the clothes she was wearing and her lack of adornment.
Once they were seated, Clem looked across at Alistair. ‘I didn’t know you spoke French. You sounded like a native back there.’
He acknowledged her comment with a faint movement of his lips that might have passed for a half-smile. ‘It comes in handy when I’m travelling for work.’
‘What other languages do you speak?’
‘Italian, Spanish, German, a smattering of Mandarin and Japanese. Enough to get by,’ he said. ‘What about you?’
‘I’m fluent in three languages apart from English,’ Clem said. ‘Criticism, sarcasm and put-down.’
This time his lips moved upwards in a smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle in a heart-stoppingly attractive manner. It took years off his face, making him seem friendly and youthful instead of distant and stern. ‘It’s nice to know underneath that tough-girl façade you have a sense of humour.’
‘This is no façade.’ Clem picked up her water glass for something to do with her hands. ‘What you see is what you get. Take it or leave it. I don’t care either way.’
‘You do care.’ His eyes never wavered from hers. ‘You care a lot about what people think of you. I saw the way you cringed when the waiter looked at you like that.’
‘Yeah, well, if you’d let me have a shower and change he wouldn’t have looked at me like I’d just crawled out from under a rock,’ Clem said, shooting him a reproachful glare.
‘I’m sorry but I tend to get a little task-oriented at times.’
‘Wow, that’s an understatement.’ She took a deep sip of her water, covertly watching him watching her.
‘I suspect you’re much the same.’
She put down her glass. ‘Me? Like you? Now that’s funny.’
His gaze was still trained on her. ‘We both like to get our own way. We don’t suffer fools gladly. We don’t like admitting we’re wrong.’
‘I make a point of never being in the wrong.’
‘I rest my case.’
Clem narrowed her gaze. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You’re a classic control freak. It’s unthinkable to you that you would ever make a mistake. You strive for perfection.’
‘Like I’m living, breathing proof of that now, sitting sweating in these hideously unfashionable clothes,’ Clem muttered.
‘Why do you hide your figure under such shapeless clothes?’
She gave a careless shrug. ‘Can’t afford high fashion.’
‘That’s not the only reason, is it?’
His gaze was doing that searchlight thing again. Honing in on her secret fears and feelings of inadequacy. Clem felt exposed in a way she hadn’t felt before. It was like he was peeling away her skin, leaving her raw and vulnerable. ‘You saw me when I was sixteen. I wasn’t exactly a Rembrandt back then.’
‘You were unhappy and unsettled.’ His tone was gentle in a way she had never heard him use before. ‘I was hard on you back then, unnecessarily so.’
Clem tried on a smile but it didn’t quite work. ‘Is that another apology from the man who never apologises?’
He gave her a wry twist of his mouth. ‘Three in one day is a record for me.’
‘Lucky me.’
The waiter came over for their order. Clem chose her usual salad without dressing and a mineral water.
‘What about something a little more substantial?’ Alistair said. ‘You can’t just have a salad. What about some protein?’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Yes you are. I saw you eyeing up that dish the waiter carried past before he came to take our order.’
He saw too damn much. ‘I’m really too tired to eat. It’s been a long day.’
‘I’ll order something for you.’ He gestured to the waiter and, before Clem could protest, he rattled off an order in French that sounded as wickedly tempting as him.
Careful. You’re starting to like him.
What wasn’t to like? He was a man who was strong and yet sensitive. Hadn’t she always secretly admired that about him—the way he cared about his mother, trying to protect her from his father’s atrocious behaviour? Now he was taking responsibility for his stepsister when he had no reason to other than out of a sense of honour. Most men would have shrugged their shoulders and got on with their life, glad the problem had gone away.
But not Alistair Hawthorne.
He was not a problem avoider. He was a problem solver. His success as an architect was proof of that. He was the go-to guy for difficult sites on which to build. He had a reputation of being able to pull off seemingly impossible projects. He was creative and disciplined, a powerhouse combination for success in life.
And he could kiss.
Shouldn’t have thought about that kiss. Clem sent her tongue out over her lips to see if his taste was still there. Her mouth still felt a little swollen, sensitive. She caught him studying her with that probing grey-blue gaze and shifted in her seat as if there were ping-pong balls underneath her bottom. ‘So, tell me about your work.’ She could do idle conversation. That was safe enough. ‘Do you enjoy it?’
‘Very much so. You?’
‘I love working with rare books. The history of them, the thought of how many pairs of hands have held them over the years, how many pairs of eyes have read those words and been moved by them. Learnt from them. I love the feel of them in my hands, the smell of them. It’s like I’m time travelling.’ Clem bit her lip when she realised how long she’d been gabbling without pause. ‘Sorry. I’m probably boring you.’
‘No, you’re not. I find it interesting to hear someone who’s passionate about what they do. So many people end up in boring jobs simply to pay the bills.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m not so sure about my job paying too many bills, but I enjoy it.’
He picked up his wine glass, took a carefully measured sip and put it down again. It was nothing like the way most of her mother’s boyfriends drank, Clem duly noted. They would gulp a drink down in one or two swallows and beckon the waiter for more. But then, everything Alistair did was measured. Planned. Organised. It was why he had achieved so much in his career. And in his life. He didn’t have a trail of broken relationships left behind him like his father. He was discreet in his private life. She had only ever seen one or two photos of him in public. He wasn’t the gossip-attracting type.
But he would be soon if word got out that she was escorting him in this misadventure. The thought was terrifying. Clem could just imagine what the press would say about her. The muck-raking would be excruciating. Her mother’s involvement in his parents’ divorce would be bad enough. But what if they made comparisons? Anyone could see why a man might fall for Brandi with her in-your-face beauty. But Clem? They would call her trailer trash; the girl from the wrong side of the tracks hanging out with the man from the top en
d of town. How could she bear it? More to the point, how could she avoid it while she was stuck with him? For there was no way he was going to let her go home until he’d accomplished his mission.
‘Do you have aspirations to have your own shop one day?’
His question jolted her back to the moment. She looked at him blankly for a moment, feeling more and more gauche and out of place. Was it her imagination or were the diners at the next table staring at her? Talking amongst themselves about how such an attractive man could be sitting opposite such a dowdy woman.
‘Is something wrong?’ Alistair asked, frowning.
‘No.’
‘You’re looking rather flushed. Are you hot? Do you need another cool drink?’
Clem shook her head. ‘Please, will you stop fussing? People are staring at us.’ At me, more like.
‘Look, I know you don’t want to be with me right now, but I’m not leaving until I’ve found Harriet,’ he said. ‘I’m sure it was her sitting down here.’
‘Then where is Jamie?’ Clem asked. ‘If they’re glued at the hip then surely he would be with her?’
‘It’s my guess he wouldn’t be far away. She was probably waiting for him when we saw her.’
‘Maybe she was sending her friend Jenna another text to put you off the trail.’
He gave her a ‘thanks for reminding me’ look. ‘Maybe.’
Clem fidgeted some more. ‘Would you excuse me? I need to use the bathroom.’
Ever the well-bred gentleman, he rose from his chair when she got up from hers. ‘Of course.’
* * *
Clem was coming back from washing her face and doing what she could to put some order to her unruly hair when she caught sight of a familiar figure carrying some garbage out of the café kitchen to an alley outside. Her heart leapt in her throat. ‘Jamie!’
He jumped about a foot in the air when he saw her. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi? Is that all you can say?’ Clem said. ‘Do you realise the trouble you’ve caused? Alistair Hawthorne is after your blood and your scalp, and anything else he can get his hands on for stealing his car and his stepsister. What the hell are you doing? What’s going on? Why haven’t you answered my calls and texts? I’ve been out of my mind with worry.’
Jamie held up a hand against her tirade. ‘Knock it off, sis. I know what I’m doing.’
‘What you’re doing is fast-tracking yourself to prison like that scumbag father of yours,’ she said. ‘You can’t steal people’s cars and large sums of money and expect to get away with it. You just can’t.’
‘I didn’t steal it,’ he said. ‘I borrowed it. Harriet needed to get away and I was the only one she could turn to.’
Clem frowned so hard she could feel her eyebrows pinching together. ‘How did you meet her?’
‘Online. We got chatting and we realised we had a connection. Her mother’s a bit like ours, only worse. She’s ditched Harriet to chase after this creep who tried to molest her. Her mother didn’t believe her when she told her. She chose that lowlife over her own daughter.’
‘Then why didn’t Harriet tell Alistair? He might have been able to talk some sense into her mother and—’
‘All Alistair wanted to do was pack her off to boarding school,’ Jamie said with the level of disgust that suggested he thought being sent to boarding school was like being sent to a leper colony. ‘She’s not his responsibility anyway. She wants to be with her mum but not while her mum’s living with a lecher.’
‘Where’s Harriet now?’
‘She’s at work.’
‘Work?’
‘Yep.’ Pride glowed in his face. ‘I’ve got myself a job too. I’m washing dishes here at night. Harriet’s got a part-time job in a fashion shop. We’re going to pay back the money we borrowed from Alistair. She was going to call him in a day or two.’
Work and her brother were too concepts Clem had trouble combining. He was the laziest, most unmotivated young man she had ever met. She had never been able to get him to lift a finger while he stayed with her. He would leave a stack of dirty dishes in the sink and only grudgingly swish some water over them if she stood over him like an officer with a convict chain-gang. It hadn’t made for familial harmony. ‘You wash dishes?’ she said.
‘Yeah, but I’m learning heaps from the chefs in the kitchen. It’s what I want to do. I want my own restaurant one day. I thought this would be a good way to learn the ropes. I’m even learning some French.’
Clem felt like slapping the side of her head to make sure she wasn’t imagining this conversation. Her brother talking about career plans? It was a miracle. ‘But what about Alistair’s car? What have you done with it?’
‘I’ve parked it at the sous chef’s house. He has a spare space and he’s not even charging me for it.’
‘How did you explain to a kitchen hand about having a car like that?’
‘I told him it was my uncle’s.’
‘Then you’d better tell him your uncle is here to collect it and his stepsister.’
This time it was Clem’s turn to jump when she heard that deep voice behind her. She swung around to face Alistair, who was eyeing her brother like he wanted to wring and tie a knot in his neck. She stood between them, arms spread out like a mother hen’s wings. ‘Don’t. Please don’t.’
‘Where’s Harriet?’ Alistair asked.
‘She’s at work,’ Jamie said. ‘We’re both working in Monte Carlo for the summer. She doesn’t want to go back yet. You can’t make her.’
‘I will do what I think is necessary to keep her safe,’ Alistair said in a tone that matched his hard-as-steel eyes. ‘Where does she work?’
Clem put a hand on his arm. ‘Look, let’s cool down while we discuss this back at the table. Jamie’s working a shift and I would hate for him to be sacked for wasting time out here with us. We’ll arrange to meet Harriet with Jamie later.’ She glanced at her brother. ‘How about breakfast tomorrow at our hotel?’
Jamie curled his lip. ‘You’re staying with him?’
‘Not the way you think,’ Clem said. ‘We’re just rooming to...erm...save on costs.’
‘But he’s got stacks and stacks of money,’ Jamie said. ‘Mum said he’s even more loaded than his father.’
Clem mentally cringed. ‘Will you promise to keep your phone on? We’ll meet for a family discussion over breakfast and everything will be sweet. I’m sure Alistair will be agreeable to some sort of compromise over this, won’t you, Alistair?’
He glowered at her. ‘I’m not going to be pushed around by a couple of school kids playing at grown-ups.’
‘Jamie is an adult,’ Clem said. ‘And in my opinion doing an excellent job of taking care of Harriet.’ She tugged on his arm. ‘Come on. I’ll explain when we get back to the table.’
Alistair pointed a finger at Jamie. ‘If you both don’t show up in the morning, I’m calling the police to press charges. Understood?’
Jamie’s brooding scowl didn’t help matters. ‘You keep your hands off my sister, you hear? She’s way too good for the likes of you.’
Clem was sure she was going to die of embarrassment. How could her brother think Alistair would lower himself to get involved with her? It was sweet of him but terribly misguided. ‘No one’s getting involved,’ she said. ‘We’re here to make sure you and Harriet are okay. That’s all.’
Jamie didn’t look like he was buying it. He gave Alistair the sort of once-over one would expect from a strict parent sizing up his daughter’s first boyfriend and finding him sadly lacking. ‘I’m glad I keyed your car ten years ago. I wish I’d slashed the tyres as well.’
Alistair’s glance at Clem was pained, with a mixture of shock, remorse and regret. ‘Is that true? He did it, not you?’
Clem’s teeth snagged her lower lip. ‘Erm...’
‘You don’t have to protect me now, Clem,’ Jamie said. ‘I’m not a little kid any more.’
Alistair’s frown was so deep it had formed a trench between
his eyes. He opened his mouth a couple of times but then closed it again, as if he was having trouble accessing the words to say. But Clem didn’t want to continue the discussion in the alleyway. ‘We’d better let you get back to work,’ she said to Jamie.
Clem led Alistair away once Jamie had disappeared back into the kitchen. ‘You have to stop lecturing people,’ she said. ‘You’ll never get them to bend to your will by force. You have to learn to negotiate, especially with teenagers. They naturally back up at authority. It’s how they grow into their identity. They have to make mistakes occasionally, otherwise how will they ever learn?’
Alistair stopped walking to look down at her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me it was Jamie who keyed my car?’
Clem averted her eyes from his penetrating gaze. ‘He was only eight years old. I didn’t want him to get into—’
‘I don’t mean back then,’ he said. ‘I mean since. You didn’t say a word. You allowed me to continue thinking you were responsible for it.’
‘Yeah, well, I figured nothing I could say would change your opinion of me, so why bother?’
He studied her for a long moment, a host of emotions flickering through his grey-blue gaze. ‘Will you accept my rather belated apology?’
Clem nodded. ‘We’d better get back to our table. I left my jacket on the back of the chair.’
Once they resumed their seats, Alistair asked, ‘Is Jamie sleeping with Harriet?’
‘I didn’t ask.’
‘What if she gets pregnant?’
She flicked her napkin across her lap and sent him a speaking look. ‘Better to get pregnant by a boy she loves and admires than a man twice her age who tries to rape her at every opportunity he can.’
Alistair’s face blanched. ‘What?’
Clem pressed her lips together in a grim manner. ‘The mother’s new boyfriend has wandering hands. Harriet’s frightened of him so Jamie cooked up a scheme with her to get her away.’
‘Why didn’t she tell me? I would’ve spoken to her mother and—’
‘Her mother doesn’t believe her. She’s sided with the boyfriend.’
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