by Nina Croft
They were all on fragile ground here. None of them could afford any mistakes.
“And what’s with the secretary look?” Darcy waved her hand down Summer’s usual working outfit of white shirt, gray skirt, and low-heeled black pumps.
She licked her lips. “I’ve got a job. It’s only temporary, but it pays well, and it’s with a good company. It also makes my parole officer happy.” She spoke quickly to get the words out. She didn’t want to lie to Darcy, so she tried to say as little as possible.
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not up to your old tricks are you, Summer Delaney?” That hurt. And it must have shown, because Darcy shrugged. “Sorry, of course you’re not.”
“No, I’m not. The job just came up and was too good an opportunity to miss. But I don’t have to go in until this afternoon, and I’ve booked us lunch at the Ritz like you asked.” She glanced at her watch. “We’ve got an hour. Do you want to grab a taxi and maybe get a drink first?”
“Let’s walk.” As they started down the street, Darcy shook her head as she looked around. “It’s hard to believe I’m actually out.”
“Tell me about it,” Summer said. “The first night I went into sort of a meltdown. I didn’t know what to do. I ate a whole chocolate cake—thanks for that, by the way—and drank a whole bottle of champagne, and then I puked everywhere.”
Darcy sniggered. “We told you to go pick up a guy, then you could have shared the champagne.”
Summer looked away so Darcy wouldn’t see the flush on her cheeks. “Maybe you can teach me how.”
“Oh, no. No guys in my life for the foreseeable future. I have a habit of picking the wrong ones, and they’re more trouble than they’re worth. From now on, I’m single.”
An hour later, the hostess showed them to a table in the restaurant. Summer was trying not to look as overwhelmed as she felt. They’d hopped on a bus for part of the journey, to give them time for Darcy to pop into a small boutique and pick up a dress to change into: a simple black T-shirt dress that nearly reached the ground but had a long thigh-high slit. Darcy wore it with her Doc Martens and looked edgy and cool. She’d bought some makeup as well, and her eyes were rimmed with kohl, her lips red. She made Summer feel small and colorless.
When she said as much, Darcy studied her across the table. “I’m guessing you’ve always dressed to hide yourself rather than stand out.”
“Maybe.”
“Well, there’s no need to hide anymore. I feel a makeover coming on. We’ll go shopping this weekend.”
Did she want a makeover?
“I don’t have much money.” Though she did have some savings squirreled safely away. It was money she’d saved from her salaries at her various jobs. She was going to invest in Regan’s new PI business, maybe set up her own little section doing forensic accounting—set a thief to catch a thief sort of thing. Plus, there was this idea she’d been contemplating in prison. She’d offer a service to women in the same position her mother had been, women who’d maybe been injured or who had lost their jobs through no fault of their own, and who couldn’t go up against the huge corporations with their money and resources. She’d investigate the companies—bring someone legal on board, and she’d beat the bastards.
But she would get her first paycheck from Nik at the end of the week. She could maybe use some of that.
She looked across at the vibrant woman opposite her, then thought about the supermodel whose date she had set up with Nik—the bastard.
“You won’t need much. I know a lot of great value places,” Darcy said. “It’s going to be fun.”
The waiter arrived at that moment to open their champagne, and they fell silent. Darcy had asked her to set this up. Apparently, she had fond memories of the Ritz, going there for afternoon tea with her grandmother and sister when she was a child. Darcy was paying—she had plenty of money from an inheritance she’d received when she was only eighteen and her parents had been killed in a plane crash. She’d used most of it to buy the gym, which brought her in a healthy income that had been accumulating over the last couple of years while she’d been inside.
Money was no issue to her. But it wouldn’t help her get access to the one thing she wanted more than anything in life.
They raised their glasses. “To freedom,” Darcy said.
“To going straight.” Summer clinked her glass against Darcy’s and then drank down the icy cold liquid. It reminded her of her first night out. Drinking champagne. Nik.
Don’t go there.
Perhaps the second bottle had been a mistake. But it was Darcy’s coming out celebration; she couldn’t be a party pooper. They’d talked nonstop. At one point Darcy had asked what she was hiding, but she’d shrugged off the question and told her friend it was nothing bad.
She’d taken a taxi back from the Ritz. For the first time since she’d climbed into the back of Nik’s car on her own release day, she felt a sense of optimism. She was humming to herself when she got to work, even smiled at the man who got in the elevator with her on the fourteenth floor. He smiled back. Then frowned.
“Sarah?”
Oh, bugger.
She went still.
The fourteenth floor. The finance department.
Do not panic.
She hadn’t really looked at him when he got in—her mind had been on other matters. Now she recognized him vaguely from her first time working here.
Bloody hell.
She forced a blank look to her eyes and a smile to her lips. “Actually, it’s Summer. I’m temping for Mr. Masterton while his assistant is away.”
“Oh, I…thought I recognized you. You don’t have a sister, do you?”
“No.” Luckily the elevator stopped at that moment, and he had to get out. But he glanced back, a puzzled expression on his face.
She took a deep breath as the doors closed again. But the encounter had ruined her mood. She tried to get it back. He didn’t really remember her.
The next floor was hers—the top. She pushed her worry to the back of her mind and sat in her chair. Twirled.
When she came to a halt, her head was swimming from the wine and the twirling, and Nik was standing in the doorway to his office.
She wanted to tell him to go away, but kept the words in.
“How’s your friend?” he asked.
“Glad to be out.”
He strolled across the space between them. “You’ve been for lunch?”
“We went to the Ritz.” His gaze sharpened on her. Did he think she’d paid with her stolen money? “Darcy is rich,” she said.
He perched on the edge of her desk, and she really wished he hadn’t. He was way too close. “You do know there’s a company policy—employees don’t drink at lunchtime.”
Oops.
It was time to change the subject. “I just met someone in the lift. He thought he recognized me.”
“Well, you’re hard to forget.”
Was she? She didn’t think so.
“Is he going to be a problem?” Nik asked when she remained silent.
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, let me know if he comes near you again.”
What was he going to do about it? Take out a contract on the poor man? Fire him?
He was still perched on her desk. Didn’t he have any work to do? Didn’t she? She couldn’t remember.
She studied her shoes for a moment, hoping he would get the message and leave her alone. But no, when she looked up he was still there. Watching her.
His eyes were so dark, but she knew they had little flecks of gold in them, if you looked close enough, like when you were kissing him. She found herself leaning forward to check and lost herself in his dark gaze. A shiver ran through her, settling low down in her belly.
“Just how much did you drink?” he asked.
“Why? Are you going to take advantage of an inebriated woman? Again?”
“Hah. I’m not exactly sure who took advantage of whom that night. But I suspe
ct it was the other way around. You in that skimpy purple robe…”
She scowled and pushed her chair back.
“You’re just annoyed because you know I’m right.” He stood up, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets.
“No, you’re not.”
He ignored her. “I dream about you in that robe. And out of it. Do you know how many times I’ve woken up hot and hard and wished you were there beside me? Or under me? Or on top?”
This wasn’t happening. No more drinking at lunchtime. It lowered her inhibitions and made her remember just how good “hot and hard” had felt.
She gritted her teeth. “Don’t you have work to do? A meeting to go to?”
She flicked on her monitor, then typed in her password. Nik’s schedule came up, and the first thing her eyes settled on was his date with the supermodel that evening. At least that sobered her up a little.
But she didn’t want to examine how much she hated the idea of him being out with another woman. Especially a tall, beautiful, successful one. “Maybe you’d better head home and get ready for your date with Giselle,” she muttered.
“Jealous?”
“In your dreams.”
He took a step closer, and she pushed herself to her feet, because sitting down, her eyes were level with the bulge in his jeans and looking at that particular part of his anatomy was not helping her keep her cool. She put the desk between them, and his lips twitched.
He studied her out of half-closed eyes, and something she was unwilling to put a name to moved between them. “I’ll cancel with Giselle,” he murmured. “If you come out with me instead.”
Shock held her still for a moment. She shook herself, then turned away to break the spell between them. What did he want? Her? But how could he ever want someone like her when he could have the likes of Giselle? Which meant he wanted something else. She hated that she had no clue what. Hated even more the fact that she wanted to say yes with every cell in her body. He was trouble. He was blackmailing her and had the power to lock her away for a long time. He was everything she hated in a man; he was privileged and wealthy, thought he owned the world and everyone in it. Including her.
She swallowed, managing to compose herself before she turned back. “As it happens, I already have arrangements for tonight.”
“Cancel them.”
Yeah, he would think that. “The great Nik Masterton has asked me out, and so I drop everything else?”
“It’s that easy.”
“Except I don’t want to go out with you.”
“How about we stay in then. We can go to my place. Have dinner in bed. Make love until we get this inconvenient attraction out of our systems.”
At least he was finding this as…inconvenient as she was. And really, could she blame him? She had stolen from him, after all. How would she like it if she fancied someone who had stolen from her? But he did want her. She was becoming certain that at least that part of their bizarre relationship was true.
She took a deep breath. “I’m helping Sam do a welcome-home party for Darcy. I want to be there.”
“You could invite me.”
Was he crazy? “No, I couldn’t.”
“Are you ashamed of me, Summer?”
“Too right. You’re an embarrassment.”
“Did you tell Darcy about me?”
“No. I told her I have a job, and it’s temporary. Very temporary. But I won’t say any more than that, because she’d probably come and beat you up. Then you’d no doubt get pissy and probably hand me over to the police.”
He exhaled, then looked away, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. What was he thinking? She wished she hadn’t drunk so much champagne, because her brain wasn’t working, and right now, she needed her wits about her.
“You can stop worrying,” he said.
“I can? About what?”
“I won’t hand you over to the police.”
She frowned. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Because I don’t want you to go back to prison.”
“So I’m free to go? I don’t have to work for you anymore?”
“I’d like you to stay. At least for the time Lisa is away. After that, you’re free to go. Though I’ll find you a job in the company if you want one.”
“And what do you expect in return?”
“I’m not going to lie. I want you. And I think you want me. But you’re right—it’s not a good idea. It was a one-off thing and should stay that way. Perhaps it’s better if we don’t give in to that particular temptation.”
“What happened to dinner in bed? And getting the inconvenient attraction out of our systems?”
So, now he was saying he didn’t want her after all? Her head was still reeling from the fact that he’d said he wouldn’t hand her in. She was free to go if she wanted to, but he wanted her to stay. Her brain hurt.
“The problem is, I want you too much. I think it would be a mistake, because I don’t think making love with you would make me want you less. I planned to sleep with you and get you out of my system, but I suspect I underestimated the attraction. And I don’t do relationships. I have one disastrous marriage behind me, one woman who wanted me for nothing but my money, and I promised myself I’d never get involved with another one.”
“I never asked you to marry me.”
He ignored her interruption. “Three years ago, I was on the verge of falling in love with you.”
“What?” Her shock must have been clear in her voice.
He snorted and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t pretend you didn’t feel anything back then.”
She sniffed. “I was acting.”
He smiled. “Tell that to yourself if you have to, but we both know it’s not true. Anyway, my point is, it’s still there, lurking in the background. And I don’t want it. So I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
“Say the word and I’ll be out of your life.”
“I don’t want that, either.”
She gritted her teeth. “What do you want?”
He blew out his breath. “I want to know you’re okay, not going to get in trouble again. I want you to talk to me like you did when we first met.” He raised a shoulder and gave a rueful smile. “I guess I want to be your friend.”
Luckily, her chair was behind her to catch her as her knees gave way, and she sank down. Whatever she’d expected him to say, that wasn’t it. For some reason, she couldn’t explain even to herself, her eyes pricked. She blinked.
It was the champagne. That was all.
Chapter Ten
Would she turn up this morning?
Or would he never see her again? While he’d given her the choice, he’d already decided that wasn’t an option. If she didn’t turn up, he’d go and haul her ass in here. But he thought she would.
He closed his eyes and pictured her expression when he’d said he wanted to be friends. After he’d dropped that bombshell, he’d walked away, giving her time to think. He had an idea that she hadn’t had many friends in her life. Probably her lifestyle had precluded that.
Friends.
He didn’t have many friends himself. A lot of acquaintances, but real friends? They were hard to find.
He’d dreamed of her again last night. In the dream, they hadn’t been friends. They’d been lovers. He’d been deep inside her, and he’d woken up aroused and frustrated, his mind filled with the memory of how she felt wrapped around him, his cock pumping into her, her cries as she came…
Shit. Stop thinking about sex with Summer.
It wasn’t going to happen again.
They were going to be friends.
At eight thirty, a quiet knock sounded on his door and a second later, the door opened and Summer stood there. He couldn’t believe the cool wave of relief that washed over him. He kept his expression blank.
“You came,” he said. “I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t be making my own coffee today.”
“God forbid.” She stepped into the room and came to stand in fr
ont of his desk. She was wearing what he’d come to think of as her work uniform, a plain white shirt tucked into a gray skirt and low black heels. He had to stifle the almost overwhelming urge to take her out of them. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore no makeup. She was beautiful, and something twisted in his gut. He ignored the feeling.
“Did you mean it?” she asked. “You won’t give that file to the police?”
“I meant it.”
“And you want to be friends?” He nodded and she shook her head. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“We were friends when we first met. You talked to me. I talked to you. We can do it again.”
Her brow furrowed. “You want to share our innermost secrets or something?”
“Or something. Don’t make a big deal out of it. We work together. If you have any problems, come and talk to me.”
Her brow furrowed, a little line forming. “And will you tell me your problems?”
He grinned. “I’m a billionaire. We don’t have problems. Or if we do, we pay people to make them go away.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah.”
“But I don’t believe it.” She shifted. “Okay, I’ll get to work then.” She turned and headed for the door. Halfway there, she paused, turned, and marched back. Stood in front of his desk, her hands behind her back.
He raised an eyebrow. “What is it, Summer? You clearly have something you want to say.” He hoped she wasn’t about to change her mind and walk out on him. That wasn’t an option, but he didn’t know how he would keep her now that he’d told her he wouldn’t go to the police. A pay rise?
“Just…thank you.”
And she was gone.
…
The friend thing was weird. Though Nik wasn’t being particularly friendly—that would be hard when there was usually a few thousand miles between them. Still, she was feeling twitchy. Maybe because she couldn’t get the memory of him saying he wanted her “too much” out of her head. The words echoed in her ears, making her hot and bothered at the most inappropriate times.