Mistress to the Tycoon

by Nicola Marsh

  ‘Oh, yeah, that’s me and I know exactly what you find so interesting about me.’

  She quirked an eyebrow, full of sass and challenge and he wondered if he was slipping. Surely his interest in her beauty, her feisty nature, her sharp wit and her stunning body wasn’t that transparent?

  He settled for a safe ‘What’s that?’ rather than make a complete fool of himself.

  More than he had already, that was.

  She snapped her fingers. ‘My gallery, of course. We both know there’s no other reason why a guy like you is hanging around a girl like me.’

  She spoke calmly, without rancour, as if stating an obvious fact. The intriguing part was, even though he agreed with her, it still rankled.

  ‘You’re really into the whole stereotyping thing, aren’t you?’

  She shrugged. ‘I’m just being honest. No use pretending when we’re both grown up and we know what this is all about.’

  Her hand waved between them, a smooth, flowing, graceful movement demonstrating her artistic side.

  He loved watching her hands, so full of life and energy and creativity.

  ‘You and I have a business arrangement, Cooper. You’ve fulfilled your part of the bargain and I’ll follow through with mine. So let’s just call it what it is and you can save the sweet talk. I’m going to stick to my end of the bargain whether you find me “interesting” or not.’

  ‘You don’t get compliments very often, do you?’

  Which he found incredibly hard to believe considering she was a knockout.

  Her green eyes narrowed, as if trying to ascertain if he was serious or toying with her.

  ‘Dressed like this and with hair like this?’ She plucked at her trendily creased top and loose curls, which hung halfway down her back in a frizzy curtain. ‘What do you think?’

  In response, he leaned forward and captured one of those lively, bouncy curls between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing the silky softness between them. ‘I think you underestimate yourself. I also think you’re beautiful.’

  For one long, loaded moment she stared at him, her eyes glowing with gratitude and something more, something akin to desire, with a small, secretive smile dancing across her lips.

  He tugged gently on her curl, leaning forward, knowing what he wanted to do was crazy but unable to stop the gravitational pull towards her.

  He wanted to drag her across the table, wrap his arms around her and kiss her senseless, to taste her rosy lips, to silence her sassy mouth for two seconds and see if his spiralling desire was a figment of his imagination or not.

  He didn’t think about business or what kissing her could do to his chances for a fair hearing.

  He didn’t think about tomorrow.

  Instead, caught up in the moment, he leaned forward till their faces almost touched, which was exactly when Ariel placed her hand square in the middle of his chest and shoved hard, just as she’d pushed him out the door when she’d first learned his true identity.

  ‘That isn’t going to win you any Brownie points. I said I’ll hear you out and I will.’

  Ariel acted cool but her fiddling hands told him otherwise as they moved from pushing back her hair to adjusting her top to rearranging the cutlery.

  Trying to get his ragged breathing under control, he schooled his face into a polite mask, thankful that one of them had kept their cool and furious it hadn’t been him.

  He needed to wrap this up and fast.

  He had no room in his life for emotions.

  Yet the more time he spent in Ariel’s intoxicating company, he floundered and, worse, found himself reevaluating his vows not to get close to anyone.

  He had to focus on business.

  It was the only way.

  ‘I don’t need to score Brownie points. My proposal will speak for itself.’

  He folded his arms and determinedly avoided looking at her mouth, the very same sexy mouth he’d almost kissed a second ago.

  ‘We’ll see, Mr Big-Shot. We’ll see.’

  With an enigmatic smile, she called the waitress over and left him mulling over the wisdom of consorting with the enemy.

  Even an enemy as delightful as Ariel.

  Ariel’s heart sank as she caught sight of Sofia peering through the gallery’s front windows. If the verbose woman caught sight of her with Cooper, goodness knew what might pop out of her gargantuan mouth.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Cooper said, his long strides making her wish she’d worn flat shoes rather than wedge-heeled espadrilles today. She felt like a munchkin running on triple speed to keep up with a giant.

  ‘Sofia Montessori. She’s the one who commissioned the portrait.’

  ‘I thought she looked familiar. I’ve seen her in passing at several events.’

  That’d be right. She should’ve known a man like Cooper would move in the same moneyed circles as Sofia.

  Her feet dragged, walking at a snail’s pace as they neared the front of the gallery, not wanting to get caught up in any name-dropping, name-swapping game that might take place. She hated that sort of thing, which was why she hid out in her studio and produced art for people like Sofia and Cooper rather than attend their hob-nob parties and exhibitions.

  She’d been to the occasional party in her early days and hated every minute of it: the yawning cultural and social gap between her and other people, the patronising, condescending attitudes when they discovered she was the artist.

  ‘Hurry up. She looks ready to break your door down,’ Cooper said, sending her a quizzical look.

  ‘Thanks for walking me back to the gallery but I’m fine, I’ll take it from here,’ she blurted, anxious to get rid of him, knowing that any second Sofia would turn her beady gaze their way and have them halfway up the aisle before she could say, ‘In your dreams’.

  That stopped him dead in his tracks.

  ‘Don’t you want me to meet your friend? Are you that ashamed to be seen with me?’

  If Cooper’s warm, friendly persona had scared her, the icy contempt she now heard in his voice terrified her more.

  ‘It’s not that. I just want to finish the portrait ASAP and if Sofia lays eyes on you, believe me she won’t leave in a hurry.’

  He must’ve been satisfied with her answer for the cold gleam in his eyes softened. ‘I won’t stay. Besides, I’ve handled worse than Sofia in the business arena and come out unscathed. Trust me.’

  Shaking her head, she fell into step beside him again. The guy was seriously delusional if he thought she’d trust him with anything. He was here to tear her life apart and all the sexy smiles and almost-kisses in the world wouldn’t change that.

  ‘Sofia, what are you doing here?’

  Ariel injected warmth into her voice, knowing she would’ve been glad to see the lovely Italian woman if Cooper’s large, looming presence weren’t at her side.

  Sofia stopped peering through the gallery windows and turned, and Ariel knew the exact moment she spotted them. The woman’s eyes fairly bulged out of her immaculately coiffed head.

  ‘Ciao, bella.’ Sofia kissed both her cheeks briefly before pulling away to study Cooper with blatant curiosity, a hungry look on her expertly made-up face. ‘And who is your friend? He looks awfully familiar.’

  Ariel took a deep breath to perform the introductions, wishing everyone would go away and leave her alone so she could get on with the business of finishing the portrait, obtaining the money and securing the gallery for another month or so.

  ‘Sofia, this is Cooper Vance. Cooper, my friend Sofia Montessori.’

  ‘A pleasure, Ms Montessori.’

  Cooper captured Sofia’s hand and bowed over it in an antiquated gesture from years gone by. The old smoothie…

  He must’ve known exactly how a woman like Sofia would react. She preened and simpered and practically fell in a swooning heap at his feet.

  ‘Ditto, Mr Vance,’ Sofia tittered, smiling and gushing like a teenager. ‘Have we met before? I’m positive I’ve seen you befor
e.’

  Ariel rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to stick two fingers down her throat and make gagging noises.

  ‘Your reputation in Melbourne society precedes you. Perhaps we’ve seen each other in passing at a function?’

  Sofia’s eyes narrowed, her gaze speculative. ‘No, I don’t think so. It’s somewhere more recent…’

  ‘Would you like a cup of coffee, Sofia? Cooper was just leaving and I really have lots of work to do.’

  Ariel didn’t want Sofia connecting Cooper to the portrait right now. If that happened…

  ‘That’s it! You’re the model in my portrait.’ Sofia’s hungry gaze travelled the length of Cooper’s body while Ariel’s heart sank.

  Great, just great.

  ‘Bello,’ Sofia murmured, obviously liking what she saw.

  Not that Ariel could blame her. Sofia was a red-blooded woman after all and if she’d admired Ariel’s sketches of the man, they were nothing on the real, live model in the flesh. So to speak.

  Cooper smiled, a brash, unaffected smile that made Ariel want to throttle him for being so blasé about the whole situation. ‘Yes, I’m sitting for Ariel. She’s a very talented artist. I think you’ll be very pleased with the final result.’

  ‘And a nice boy, too,’ Sofia said, sending Ariel a pointed look as if to say, Are you crazy to let this guy get away? Why aren’t you married by now and expecting his bambino?

  ‘Speaking of which, I better finish the portrait if you want it by Tuesday—’

  ‘You must come too, Mr Vance!’ Sofia’s loud voice drowned out a passing tram as she waved her hands about in excitement. ‘Ariel is coming to the little soirée I’m having for my sister’s birthday where the portrait will be unveiled and it is only natural that you should attend also.’

  ‘No!’ Ariel blurted out before she could stop herself, blushing furiously when two sets of eyes turned on her, Sofia’s knowing brown eyes and Cooper’s dazzling blue. ‘I mean, I’m sure Cooper has better things to do with his time. Besides, he’d probably be mortified if people recognise him as the model. He’s a businessman and it wouldn’t look good at all.’

  Ariel babbled on and on, sending Cooper the evil eye, silently praying he’d back her up on this.

  She didn’t want him anywhere near that party. They’d spent enough ‘social’ time together, what with coffee on Friday night and brunch today. The longer she spent with him, the more befuddled she became and she needed her wits about her to fob him off after listening to his stupid proposal.

  Liking someone, enjoying their company, wasn’t conducive to kicking them out the door, and that was exactly what she’d have to do after hearing his pitch.

  So no more social stuff.

  Starting now.

  ‘What do you think, Mr Vance?’

  Sofia frowned at Ariel before turning on a charming smile for Cooper.

  ‘I think it’s a great idea. Thanks for the invitation.’

  ‘Bene! That’s all settled. Now, why don’t we go in and I can give you all the details?’

  Ignoring Sofia’s triumphant expression and Cooper’s smug smile, Ariel sighed in resignation and unlocked the front door.

  Two against one wasn’t fair.

  But then, since when had anything in her life been fair?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘I SHOULD never have agreed to this,’ Ariel muttered at her reflection, wishing she could wield a mascara wand with the same expertise as a paintbrush.

  She’d never gone in for the whole make up thing. She much preferred painting canvases to painting her face. Then again, tonight called for a confidence mask and if the barest foundation, sheer blue eye-shadow, a quick lashing of mascara and pale pink lip gloss would help quell the butterflies dancing a tango in her belly, she’d use it.

  Seeing Cooper at Sofia’s charity event was one thing, but agreeing to go with him?

  Madness.

  Right on cue, a sharp knock at the front door had her casting one last regretful look at her reflection in the mirror before she picked up her embroidered silver evening purse and flicked off the lights.

  Though how hard could tonight be?

  She’d wait around till the portrait was unveiled, make polite small talk with a bunch of rich phoneys then bolt back here in a taxi, leaving Cooper with his cronies.

  Easy.

  However, the minute she opened the door and saw Cooper standing there wearing a designer tux and a sexy smile, she knew nothing about this evening would be easy.

  In fact, the way her pulse accelerated and her heart flip-flopped, nothing could be further from the truth.

  ‘Wow, you look beautiful.’

  He stepped into the doorway, blocking out the night sounds of a busy Brunswick Street, and took hold of her hand. His voice was soft, almost reverent, like a gentle caress and she shivered with delight that she could evoke a reaction like that from a guy like him.

  ‘It’s vintage,’ she said, a totally inane remark. She stood frozen to the spot, her hand captured in his, enjoying the physical contact way too much.

  As if he was interested in her dress.

  ‘It suits you.’

  Finally, after the hand-holding had gone on too long, he released her hand only to skim his palm over the sheer chiffon cascading in handkerchief layers from her waist to the floor.

  ‘You look like a beautiful waterfall. Fresh, vibrant, invigorating.’

  ‘And you need to move into the twenty-first century. With lines like that, I’m not surprised you spend all your time with your head buried behind a computer.’

  She didn’t mean to sound so cutting but she didn’t handle compliments well. Especially compliments from a guy standing way too close and smelling like a dream come true.

  To her surprise, he laughed rather than rebuke her. ‘You’re not going to spoil tonight with that smart mouth of yours. Insult me all you like but I’m not biting.’

  More’s the pity.

  He raised an eyebrow as if reading her mind and she propelled him out the door, anything to put some much needed distance between them. Even seated in his car would be better than having him invade her personal space. Not that she minded exactly but if they didn’t get a move on she’d be tempted to rush back into the gallery, slip back into shorts and a poncho and have a TV dinner while watching her favourite DIY house-renovation show.

  Boring but safe.

  The complete antithesis of allowing Cooper to drape her hand in the crook of his elbow and lead her to his low-slung sports car parked around the corner.

  Exciting and dangerous.

  Yeah, that was Cooper through and through. For a girl who liked being dull and safe she sure was tempted by the prospect of living a little for once.

  ‘Flash wheels,’ she said, sliding into the plush leather interior as he held the passenger door open for her.

  ‘It was a present.’

  She looked at him in surprise, his abrupt tone implying he didn’t like it. Or maybe didn’t like the person who had given it to him?

  As he slid behind the wheel, started the engine and pulled away from the kerb, she couldn’t resist probing further. ‘Let me guess. Daddy bought it for you as a bonus last year?’

  ‘Close,’ he said, his voice tight, his hands clenched around the steering wheel.

  She could’ve left it there but she didn’t. After being virtually ignored for the first eight years of her life as she’d flitted from orphanage to foster home and back again, living with Barb had opened a whole new world to her. Barb had encouraged her natural curiosity, had answered her endless questions with the patience of a saint.

  Ariel loved mystery novels for that very reason, always wanting questions answered, the unsolvable unravelled and, right now, she had a doozy of a puzzle laid out before her and there was no way she could back down.

  ‘Pretty generous gift. You two must be close.’

  ‘We were.’

  Okay, maybe now was the time to keep her mouth shut. C
ooper’s use of past tense could only mean two things; they’d fallen out or, worse, his father was dead.

  ‘We don’t get along these days,’ Cooper said, his icy tone sending chills down her spine.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  And she was, for ever thinking she could make tonight work. Even when she was trying to fit in, she made a mess of things. Rather than keeping the conversation light, she’d had to push, nosing around where she didn’t belong.

  Great.

  ‘So am I.’

  Cooper didn’t say any more and this time she didn’t push, clamping her glossed lips tightly shut and staring out the window at the glittering lights of Melbourne as they wound their way to Toorak, one of the city’s richest suburbs.

  However, after five minutes passed and the uncomfortable silence yawned between them, she said, ‘Do you have any music?’

  ‘Sure.’

  He fiddled with a few chrome buttons that looked as if they could launch the space shuttle until muted jazz filled the car.

  ‘How’s that?’

  ‘Not bad,’ she said, hoping for something more upbeat. Anything to lighten the mood.

  ‘What sort of music do you like?’

  ‘Latin American. Flamenco. Anything with a bit of oomph.’

  And the exact opposite of his choice, but she wisely kept that tidbit to herself.

  However, he zoned in on her thoughts with unerring accuracy once again.

  ‘You think I’m some kind of business-oriented bore, don’t you?’

  Got it in one, Coop!

  However, in the interests of making the rest of the drive and the hour or so of torture she had ahead of her at the party bearable, she chose her words carefully.

  ‘We’re different, that’s all.’

  ‘Like opposites attract and all that?’

  ‘Who said anything about attraction?’

  She kept her tone deliberately light, knowing she’d successfully stepped through one verbal minefield only to plough straight into another.