by Trish Morey
He said nothing, but she sensed his anger in his heated breath, in the flare of his nostrils as his chest expanded with every intake of air and in the red-hot brand of his fingers pressing into her arm.
It was only her arm he was holding, she had to remind herself, so why did her skin prickle from her scalp to her toes? And why did heat ribbon and curl in dark and secret places until she was sure she would ignite?
Then something sparked in his eyes and he let her go so suddenly she almost lost her balance. ‘As you wish. I will take you to the helicopter.’
Breath whooshed into her lungs as she regained her balance. ‘Thank you.’ But she doubted he heard her. He was already striding away when her phone rang.
She pulled her mobile from her bag and checked the number, breathing a sigh of relief that it was Meg at the office calling and not a new client looking for the perfect day—the only perfect daze she was qualified to talk about right now was the one she was currently in.
‘Meg, what’s up? I’m on my way to the airport right now.’
Her assistant took her own sweet time answering—long enough for Daniel to have come looking for her, no doubt wondering why someone so desperate to leave was now dragging her feet. She turned away from his storm-cloud presence. ‘Meg? What’s wrong?’
‘That all depends,’ came the tentative response. ‘Do you want the good news or the bad news?’
CHAPTER SIX
SOPHIE swallowed. Things went pear-shaped in the wedding planner business all the time—wedding cakes missing a layer, string quartets going their own separate ways and citing irreconcilable differences, limousines breaking down. There wasn’t much they hadn’t seen and there wasn’t much they couldn’t deal with. So why Meg sounded so shell shocked… ‘So, what’s the good news?’
‘You don’t have an eight a.m. meeting tomorrow morning at the Gold Coast any more.’
‘What? Okay, what time is it scheduled for then?’
She could almost hear Meg’s anguish in the silent prelude to her reply. ‘Well, that’s kind of the bad news. You don’t need another time. They’ve cancelled the booking.’
‘Cancelled? But they can’t do that!’
‘I’m sorry, Sophie, I really am. But a girl—Annaliese, I think she said her name was—just called and said they had someone who could book out the entire function centre, not just the gazebo and reception room, and they paid up front in full so they had no choice but to take it.’
‘But they can’t do that,’ she repeated. Surely they couldn’t do that? ‘I’ll call them. Annaliese is only new there. She probably got her dates mixed up.’
‘Good luck,’ came Meg’s voice down the line. ‘Only she sounded so certain. I hope you’re right.’
‘Problem?’ Daniel’s voice intruding into her thoughts was the last thing she needed right now. Daniel’s presence was the last thing she needed, point blank.
‘Excuse me a moment,’ she said, drawing away, needing distance. ‘I have to make an urgent call.’
He made an exaggerated play of checking the gold watch at his wrist, a small frown creasing his brow. ‘You did say you had a plane to catch.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she hissed, wheeling away. ‘Please, this won’t take long.’
Her mind was racing, her heart thumping loud in her chest as she retrieved the number. Her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip as she waited in turn for the connection, then the pick-up, and then the seemingly interminable wait for the transfer to the functions manager. She registered the metallic taste of blood, realised her lip was stinging, and willed herself to take a deep breath to relax. At this rate she could chew her way right down to her jaw.
The Tropical Palms had to be available. Someone had merely made a mistake. Otherwise…
Forget otherwise.
‘Philipe!’ she cried with relief when finally the connection was made, hope reborn. ‘I just heard the craziest thing. I thought I should double check.’
A bare minute later she severed the connection, Philipe’s rapid-fire excuses buzzing in her head.
‘Sincere apologies.’ ‘If only you’d already paid the deposit.’ ‘Our hands are tied’…
Numbly she turned. Sure, she’d understood that her booking wouldn’t be solid until the deposit was paid, but they’d given no hint of any other interest in the date, and it had been Philipe who’d told her not to worry—that paying when she came for the meeting would be early enough. They could at least have called and warned her someone wanted to book out the entire complex. They could at least have let her know.
‘Trouble in paradise?’
She gritted her teeth, wishing she was back in the office right now. Somewhere she could throw things. Instead she had to put up with a smiling inquisitor while trying to ignore the prick of tears. What the hell was she supposed to tell Monica and Jake? ‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ she sniffed as she headed past him towards where he’d left the buggy.
‘No?’ he said, already catching up and way, way too close for comfort. ‘I couldn’t help but overhear. I got the impression it was more serious than that.’
‘It’ll be fine.’ It had to be fine. It would be fine, just as soon as she could get away from Daniel Caruana and think.
‘It was about Monica’s wedding, wasn’t it? I take it that was the venue you just called?’
She shook her head, breathing deep as a day filled with frustration after frustration forced a renegade tear from her eye. Damn it, but she would not cry. Not here, not in front of him. ‘It’s between me and my clients. It’s got nothing to do with you.’
‘It has if it concerns my sister!’ She felt a hand on her shoulder, felt herself hauled around to face him. ‘What’s going on?’ He paused, lifted the hand from her shoulder and touched the pad of his thumb to her cheek even as she turned her face away. But nothing could stop the jolt of electricity that sparked through her at his touch. ‘You’re crying. Was it such bad news?’
She jerked her head away, swiping at the dampness on her cheek. ‘I am not crying.’ But her voice was shaky, her breath was choppy, and she knew that he would have had to be blind, deaf and dumb not to notice. Besides, it wasn’t as if she could keep the news some kind of secret. She sucked in a deep breath. ‘The Tropical Palms apparently got a better offer. We’ve lost the venue.’
He took less a second to assimilate the information before nodding decisively. ‘Then the matter is settled. You will arrange the wedding here.’
She blinked away her tears. ‘Now, just hold on. It’s not actually up to you.’
‘And you have a better idea? Other options?’
‘I haven’t explored the other options yet.’
‘I’ve just saved you the trouble.’
‘We could still get a cancellation.’ But she knew she was clutching at straws.
‘Is that what you’re planning on telling Monica? That you’re waiting for a cancellation when she could be married here, on Kallista?’
She looked up at him, just for a second wondering—was it just coincidence that on the very day she met with Daniel Caruana her plans for his sister’s wedding had gone pear-shaped? He’d been determined the wedding should take place here. Was it possible that he was somehow behind the sudden booking? ‘I told you where the wedding was to be held before we took off.’
‘And?’
‘And isn’t it a coincidence that suddenly I find someone’s come along and booked out the entire function centre at the exact same time you’re arguing for the wedding to be held here?’
He leaned an arm up on the roof of the buggy, so close to her shoulder that she wanted to shrink away. ‘You think I did it?’ His tone made her sound completely paranoid. Maybe she was. It was too easy to believe Daniel would go to whatever lengths it took to get his way. Then again, maybe she wasn’t so paranoid. How could she trust him after the massive about-face he’d made today? It was clear that if this wedding was to go ahead he expected it to be on his terms.
She c
ocked her chin. ‘Didn’t you?’
‘And when exactly was I supposed to have made this booking when I have been with you the entire time?’
It was the question she’d been battling with herself. ‘I don’t know. But you did make a phone call, just before we left the mainland.’
Something skated across his eyes. ‘And there would be no other possible reason for me to make a phone call, not even to inform the island to have a buggy waiting for us by the helipad?’
She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. She sounded worse than paranoid; now she was practically blaming him for losing the booking. ‘I’m sorry. But what else was I supposed to think? You’ve been determined to have this wedding here ever since you accepted that there was nothing you could do to prevent it.’
‘I just want what’s best for Monica. I suspect you do too. Which is why maybe we should be working on this together.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think when Monica calls from Honolulu we should both be there to talk to her—find out what she really wants to do. And maybe put her mind at rest that I’m serious about having the wedding on Kallista.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t see how. It could be a while before she calls, given even after they land they’ll have to clear customs before their hotel transfer. I’ll probably be back in Brisbane by then.’
‘Then don’t leave. Stay here, on Kallista.’
Sophie blinked, his seemingly simple words performing cartwheels over and over in her head, her thoughts in turmoil. How could she stay when she wanted nothing more than to be out of this man’s company as soon as possible? Already once today that escape had been denied her, pulled from beneath her feet as effectively as the proverbial rug.
But she wanted Monica and Jake happy and, now her morning meeting with the Tropical Palms had been cancelled, it wasn’t as if she had to be back in time for the commute to the Gold Coast first thing tomorrow.
It was the last thing she wanted, but maybe she should delay her departure a little longer. There was a lot to be said for Monica knowing her brother was more supportive of the marriage than she’d anticipated, and perhaps Jake might benefit from hearing it too. Perhaps this was actually what everyone needed, a chance to talk things through and get over whatever it was in the past that was potentially such a barrier. After all, if they were going to be family, they’d all have to learn to communicate with each other some time.
And after the call maybe there might be a red-eye that would still get her back to Brisbane tonight.
Please God she could get back home tonight. It could be hours that she was forced to hang around waiting for Monica’s call. And the longer she was in Daniel Caruana’s company the more his presence messed with her head, muddled her brain and her thought processes along with it, even while setting her other senses alight. It wasn’t a state she was used to. It wasn’t a state she particularly enjoyed.
She was used to being in control, cool, detached and unaffected. Her mother had taught her that a woman didn’t need a man to validate her, in fact that sometimes she would be better off without one. While she knew her mother’s view had stemmed from a failed marriage, and a couple of aborted relationships since, her own experiences with men had only lent weight to her mother’s advice.
Which had proved a positive boon to her job. She could stand back unemotionally and deliver the best, most romantic wedding in the world without getting all misty-eyed herself. She was the practical one, the unemotional one. The rational one.
Until now.
Until Daniel Caruana.
Oh no; it would be better—safer—to be gone.
Daniel watched the indecision swirl in her violet eyes. She was gnawing her bottom lip again, a gesture that took years off her. She looked young and vulnerable. Her hair was loosened by the breeze so that tendrils had escaped, wisping around her face, and he had the insane desire to kiss her again, if only to soothe her besieged lip.
He liked the way she tasted. He liked the way she battled with her conscience as she gnawed on that lip, and he couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel if she turned those nibbling teeth on him.
He almost growled. There was no way she was leaving the island before he found out.
‘What are you so afraid of?’ he asked, moving closer, dropping his other arm to the vehicle behind. ‘Why is it so hard to make a decision?’
She looked up at him, surprise at his sudden move turning her eyes wide, shock at finding herself trapped neatly against the vehicle when she tried shuffling backwards filling them with alarm. ‘Oh, nothing. I’d have to call Meg at the office, get her to take care of a few things. And change my flight booking, of course, although I don’t know what time I’ll be able to get away.’
She was babbling, flustered again, and delightfully so. ‘Is that all you’re worried about?’
Her eyes darted from one side to the other, checking the positioning of his arms as if assessing her chances of escape.
Didn’t she realise? It was much too late for escape.
‘Or perhaps you’re you worried I might kiss you?’ He wanted her to be. If she hadn’t been worried before, he wanted her thinking about his lips on hers right now. ‘Is that what you’re afraid of? Is that why you seem so desperate to rush off now, because you’re afraid of a repeat performance?’
‘What? No, why would I be worried about that? It never crossed my mind.’
‘Never?’ he murmured as he moved inexorably closer, the circle around her drawing tighter. ‘You wound me, Miss Turner. You never once entertained the prospect of finishing what we started?’
‘I never…’ She shook her head but there was no point trying to deny it. Her eyes were on his lips; her chest was rising fast and her lips were slightly parted, waiting. Anticipating. ‘You wouldn’t—’
She didn’t get a chance to finish. His mouth met hers, his lips relieving her of the word she’d been about to utter, her lips soft and warm and wondering. He sensed her doubts in her hesitation. But beyond that he also sensed her desire and her need.
It amazed him to think that any sister of Fletcher could taste as good. He expected there to be some trace of corruption, some hint of decay, and yet instead the taste of fruit was on her lips, plump and sweet as they moved under his, warm as their breath mingled. And wrapped seductively around it all he sensed the evocative scent of woman.
He made no attempt to hold her; they touched nowhere but at their mouths, and yet the connection was electric. He could feel the glow from her as if he’d flicked a switch that set her body humming with need, matching the music of his own. And yet it wasn’t a kiss of passion, of unrequited lust. Instead it was tender and sweet and utterly, utterly necessary.
‘Wh…why did you do that?’ she whispered, her lashes lowered as if too scared to look at him when finally, reluctantly, he raised his head.
‘It seemed a good idea to get it out of the way.’
‘Oh.’ It satisfied him no end that she sounded confused and halfway disappointed.
‘Because now I know that first time wasn’t a mistake.’
She gasped as her lashes flickered open, her pupils tiny in the bright sun; her irises seemed appropriately named given their suddenly dark, velvet colour. He laughed, because he knew that if he didn’t he wouldn’t be able to stop from pulling her back into his kiss and finishing what he’d begun. This wasn’t the time, and definitely not the place. The sun beat down hot and heavy on his back, reinforcing his need for a cold beer and a cold shower—not necessarily in that order. ‘Look, it’s been a long day. Monica’s probably not going to call for an hour or two. How about a swim to cool off while we wait? I know I could do with one.’
Her brow creased into a slight frown. ‘Did I say I was staying?’
‘Aren’t you?’
She looked away then in the direction of the helipad, even though there was nothing to see from here but the thick tropical plantings of palms and bamboo bordering the par
king area, before slowly she turned back. ‘I guess I can stay, just for the call. But I haven’t brought anything with me. I wasn’t expecting to swim.’
‘Not a problem,’ he said, tossing the buggy key up in his hand. ‘I’m sure we can find you something half decent.’
The house was halfway around the island and perched up high, all timber and glass, with decking and sails nestled amongst the forest and wrapped around the hillside. But despite the stunning beauty of the house it was the view to which the eye was drawn—on one side to the ocean, studded with island jewels, and on the other to the spectacular line of mainland coast that ran as far as the eye could see. Beyond the shoreline rose the steep mountains, the spectacular gateway to the hinterland.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Sophie said as he helped her from the car. ‘I don’t know how you could ever bear to leave.’
He smiled that lazy crocodile smile once more, the smile aimed right at her, and that scored a direct hit. ‘I’m glad you think so.’ Breathless, not seeing or understanding the message she was sure lay behind the words, she moved away, pretending to be more interested in the view. It was magnificent, it was true, but right now she had more pressing things on her mind.
Like why she’d let him kiss her. She was planning his sister’s wedding, after all. She was supposed to be a professional. She was supposed to be detached.
Letting him kiss her had hardly been detached.
But supposition was one thing. Knowing what she should do when he was looking at her that way, when her skin was tingling, her heart trembling and her thoughts as scattered as the winds was another thing entirely. How was she expected to think when all she knew was that she hungered for his kiss, that every cell in her body had been primed for his touch?
Was it only this morning they had met? It hardly seemed possible to reconcile the man who’d kissed her so tenderly with the man she’d encountered in his office—the man who’d turned arrogance into an art form and bundled her out without a decent hearing. Although he’d almost kissed her then too, practically reducing her to a puddle on the floor before she’d managed to find the will to push him away.