Sweet Seduction

by Jennifer St George

  He tapped his fork on the edge of his plate. ‘We could fly to exotic places to add glamour.’

  ‘First-Class Chef,’ Charlie announced. ‘You should call it First-Class Chef. Sounds better.’

  He tingled all the way to his toes. The woman had a gift.

  ‘First-Class Chef. Brilliant.’

  Her gorgeous face. Her brilliant ideas. Charlie was just give, give, give. Damn, he could love this woman. He jumped up from the table, pulled her from her chair and hugged her.

  ‘Absolutely perfect.’ But he wasn’t sure if he was talking about the TV concept now.

  For the second time that night, Charlotte found herself flush against Gabe’s muscled body. It felt so right and so wrong at the same time.

  More wrong.

  She eased herself free. The cool night air rushed between them. She sat down.

  ‘Sorry,’ Gabe said, backing away. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No, it’s me. I’m . . .’She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to spoil the moment.

  ‘You’re not married, are you?’ Gabe laughed nervously as he took his seat.

  Charlotte turned cold. Now would be a good time to tell the truth.

  ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘But a few weeks ago I caught my fiancé between his secretary’s legs.’

  Gabe choked on his wine. ‘Bloody hell. That’s why you’re travelling alone.’

  She nodded.

  ‘I’m really sorry. Did you think he was the one?’

  ‘My parents certainly did.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He’s loaded.’

  ‘Ah, a rich bastard. They’re the worst.’

  The harshness of his voice startled her. She cocked her head and eyed him carefully.

  ‘The worst?’

  ‘I’ve had a bit of experience with the filthy rich,’ he said, biting hard into a scallop and crushing it between his teeth. ‘Their sense of entitlement pisses me off.’

  Charlie squirmed in her seat.

  I guess now isn’t the time to tell him I’m heiress to a diamond fortune.

  The next morning, Charlie slipped out early to find a public phone. She’d left Australia so fast that she hadn’t organised international roaming on her mobile.

  Probably no bad thing. She could only imagine the bank of anxious messages from Paul and her parents.

  The horrible vision flashed into her mind – Paul bent over his desk with his trousers bunched at his ankles. His secretary moaning beneath him.

  She stopped walking and closed her eyes. How could she have been so blind? Giving herself a shake, she stepped up her pace as if she could somehow outrun the pain.

  She’d met Paul at one of her father’s tedious parties. He’d been a revelation. Instead of talking on and on about himself, as most of the rich men did, Paul couldn’t seem to hear enough about her dessert business.

  Later that night she’d prepared him a batch of mini citrus meringue pies and carefully piped Ps on each one. He’d taken the piping bag from her hand and on one pie had drawn a C over the P. They’d shared that one.

  Every moment he could spare from his family’s mining machinery business, he’d spent with her, doing things she loved. Trips to country restaurants. Dinner at home. He’d even accompanied her on her weekly trip to the children’s hospital. As he’d helped her hand out cupcakes to sick kids, they talked about having children of their own. At the time, she wondered if it were possible to be any happier.

  She kicked a stone across the road. It disappeared over the wall to the beach. It had all been a setup. She was just the cement for a billion-dollar merger deal.

  She jammed her hands into the pockets of her shorts. Her father wanted to ‘vertically integrate’ his business to secure the supply of mining equipment. Paul’s business was the largest privately owned company that fitted the bill. Apparently, during negotiations, succession planning had been discussed. A merger of the families, it was agreed, would guarantee the merged company’s stability. Both families faced the same problem: the Went worths and the Forsyths only had one child each, hardly a risk-free scenario for multimillion-dollar family businesses. So Charlie had been offered up as the breeding cow for the future of Wentworth-Forsyth Diamonds.

  She swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth.

  Her father had even briefed Paul to show interest in her cooking. Her father had never understood her passion; her little hobby, as he’d called it. But he knew it’d be a sure-fire way to her heart.

  She’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker.

  She spied a phone outside the bakery. The buttery aroma did nothing to quell her nerves. Her hands shook as she dialled her home number. She hadn’t seen Paul since she’d hurled a stapler at his naked arse. She smiled at the memory. Bullseye.

  She’d never again set foot in the harbour side mansion she and Paul had purchased just a few weeks earlier. Paul was probably bonking his secretary in every room in the house.

  She lifted the receiver and dialled.

  ‘Forsyth.’ Paul answered as if he were doing the caller a favour.

  ‘It’s me.’

  ‘Charlotte. Baby, where are you? We’re all frantic.’ His voice dripped with artificial sincerity.

  ‘Cut the crap, Paul. Dad told me everything. Now, why can’t I access my money?’

  ‘Our money, sweetie.’ The sincerity vanished. Menace coated his voice. She gripped the receiver a little more tightly. She’d never heard that tone before.

  Her heart thumped off-beat. She swallowed hard.

  When they’d become engaged, Paul had insisted – no pre-nup. So romantic. She’d believed he thought they’d really last the distance. He also suggested they establish joint accounts.

  A merger of love and assets. She leaned her head against the glass wall of the phone box. She’d even made him a signatory on her business accounts.

  A wave of dread coursed through her. Her hands trembled.

  ‘What’ve you done?’ She tried to keep the fear from her voice, but even she could hear the tremor.

  ‘Just come home and all will be forgiven.’

  She’d be forgiven. That was rich. ‘I seem to remember it was you with your pants down.’

  ‘Listen, Charlotte, and listen carefully, as I won’t be repeating myself. The media are already onto the fact that you’re out of the country.’

  So he knew she’d left Australia. She leaned heavily against the phone box. Anxiety gnawed at her confidence. Was he trying to find her?

  ‘That’s a story in itself considering our wedding is less than two weeks away. Believe me, Charlotte, you don’t want to cross me. I won’t have my family’s name dragged through the gutter press.’

  ‘You should have thought of that before having sex on your desk.’

  ‘What I do in my private life is none of your business. Now get back here, get married and then you can do whatever the hell you want,’ he ground out.

  ‘Wow, Paul, what an offer.’ She dropped as much sarcasm into her voice as was humanly possible. ‘But as wonderful as that sounds, I think I’ll stay here.’

  A series of expletives rained down the line. ‘I’m not blowing a billion-dollar deal because of your stupid romantic bull.’

  ‘I don’t care about your deal.’

  ‘But I do and believe me, Charlotte, you don’t want to cross me.’

  ‘Forget it.’

  ‘And what do you plan to do for money?’

  A chill swept down her spine. ‘Damn it, I’m not useless.’ Her mind raced. ‘I’ll get a job.’

  Ugly laughter assailed her over the phone. ‘You, work?’ He snorted. ‘It may have escaped your notice, but you’re not actually qualified to do anything except whack a few cakes in the oven and host a cocktail party. And after this little stunt, you’ll never get another contract in this town. I’ll make sure of it.’

  His words hit her like a knife through her heart. She knew he could do it.

  ‘And don’t even think of g
oing to Daddy. He won’t give you a cent until the ink is dry on our marriage certificate. Get. Back. Here. Now.’ Each of his final words was accompanied with what sounded like Paul slamming his fist against the wall.

  ‘Look, Paul—’

  ‘Do you think I’d have even looked at you if Harry Wentworth wasn’t your father? You’re nothing without the Wentworth name and fortune.’

  Nothing! She straightened and pulled her shoulders back. Did he actually say she was nothing?

  But Paul hadn’t finished his tirade. ‘Now, you listen here—’

  Suddenly she realised she didn’t have to. She pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it. Her ex-fiancé’s voice squawked from the receiver.

  With one quick movement she dropped the phone into its cradle. She tensed for a moment, fearing somehow Paul’s or her father’s power and influence might suddenly make something terrible happen. But only the sounds of the sea, and the clatter of the small family shops opening for business, punctuated the air. An ancient woman, dressed in black, shuffled past with a loaf of bread in her basket.

  Charlie stepped from the phone box. The sun hung low in the sky but still its rays sparkled on the calm Mediterranean. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sweet croissants scented the air. Cheery Italian emanated from various doorways.

  No-one knew her name or the fact that she was worth a fortune. Or at least, had been. Anything was possible. She could be anything. She’d get a job and a life on her terms.

  Reinvention. Starting today. She nodded as if making a contract with herself.

  Breathing in the salt-laced air, she almost skipped into the bakery.

  When she walked back to the apartment laden with pastries, she couldn’t keep the smile from her face.

  ‘What happened to you?’ Gabe’s face was a picture of curiosity. ‘You look like the cat that’s got the cream.’

  ‘Nothing special. Just realised it’s a beautiful day, I’m in Italy and we have nothing planned except that we’re having croissants for breakfast.’

  ‘Ah, the possibilities,’ he joked. The warmth of his smile matched his voice.

  Their eyes met and held for just a moment. Something small but special drifted between them.

  Chapter Four

  The next few days passed in a flurry of beach visits, pizza and lots of the ridiculous nonsense typical when small children are involved. Charlie loved every minute of it.

  Each night after Amelia and Rupert were in bed, Charlie cooked up an extravaganza.

  Knowing her funds were dwindling, she chose each ingredient with care; it made the whole exercise much more of a challenge. And she relished it. She’d never really been challenged before. If she wanted something, she’d got it.

  ‘I’ll have to hit the gym when I get back,’ Gabe said after scraping the last remains of the crèmebrûlée from his ramekin. ‘How did you learn to cook like this if you’ve had no training?’

  Charlie’s nerves jumped to red alert. Her gaze dropped to her plate.

  ‘Er . . .’ She couldn’t really say the housekeeper, a series of nannies and the occasional caterer had allowed her into the kitchen during her parents’ endless series of dinners and cocktail parties. Or that she’d devoured her mother’s food magazines.

  ‘From my mum.’

  Her stomach tightened as another lie tumbled from her mouth. She’d had no idea that after the first one had been accepted, so many more would follow.

  ‘One day I’d like to meet her and thank her.’

  If Gabe didn’t fancy rich people, he’d despise her mother. Elizabeth Wentworth was a tireless charity worker as long as her face continued to mark the social pages. She could also add shameless socialite, professional gossip and absent mother to her resume.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s back to England tomorrow,’ Gabe said, leaning back in his chair.

  ‘Mmm.’ Charlie couldn’t bring herself to say anymore on that topic. ‘And I’m off to Milan.’

  ‘Be careful or you’ll spend every cent on leather jackets and handbags. Speaking of which, did you sort out the cash crisis?’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, fiddling with the napkin in her lap. She didn’t think she’d ever been more humiliated in her life. ‘I’m going to have to send you the money when I get home.’

  ‘Forget it. The clothes are a gift.’

  ‘Come on, Gabe, I insist on paying my way.’

  ‘Buy me a drink when you stop over in London on your way home.’

  She could tell she wasn’t going to win this fight. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Speaking of gifts, the kids and I bought you a present today.’

  Charlie sat straighter in her chair. ‘Aren’t I supposed to be thanking you? I’m the one who crashed your family holiday and can’t even pay my own way.’

  ‘I owe you a debt for life. You saved Amelia and before you arrived on the scene, I was only just managing the kids. But the last few days have been terrific for all of us, don’t you think?’ He looked at her for a long moment.

  A warm flush crept up her neck and the few glasses of prosecco she’d consumed had nothing to do with it.

  ‘Yes, it’s been great,’ she said a little breathlessly.

  Gabe reached under the table and pulled out a gaudily wrapped gift.

  ‘For you,’ he said as he passed it across the table. ‘The kids wrapped it.’

  A comforting joy touched her heart. Her presents were usually so professionally wrapped, she used to wonder if the was starched. She didn’t think she’d ever received anything that had actually been wrapped by the person giving it to her.

  ‘Gabe, you shouldn’t—’

  ‘We should and we did.’

  She pulled at the paper. A foot-tall Snoopy toy fell from the packaging. She held him up.

  ‘Can’t be without Snoopy for too long,’ he said.

  At that moment she didn’t think she’d ever been given a present that meant more.

  ‘Thanks. I love him,’ she said, hugging the toy to her chest. The silly plush toy would have a special place in her heart forever, just like the man who gave it to her.

  ‘The kids chose him.’ He reached under the table again. ‘And I chose this.’ Gabe slid a small, beautifully wrapped package across the tablecloth.

  She didn’t want to touch it. She simply wished the moment would last forever. Sitting on an Italian terrace listening to the sound of the waves with Gabe.

  ‘Go on,’ he said, pushing the present a little closer. His encouraging smile sent her pulse racing.

  She unwrapped it carefully, not wanting to rip the paper. She opened the rectangular, sapphire-blue box and separated the soft pink tissue paper. A delicate silver bracelet lay in fine tissue. She slid it tentatively from the box and held it in her hand.

  ‘Oh, Gabe. It’s beautiful.’

  Gabe stood and walked around to her.

  ‘May I?’ he asked.

  She held up the bracelet. He took it and clicked the clasp around her wrist.

  ‘There. Now you won’t be allowed to forget us.’ He held her hand up so she could admire the bracelet. It held one charm: a little silver Leaning Tower of Pisa. The air sizzled between them but Gabe let her hand fall and stepped back. She looked away, sure disappointment was showing across her face.

  ‘Well, we’ve got an early start,’ he said. ‘I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to wrangling those kids onto the plane,’ he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ‘Coming out, Rupert spent his time running up and down the cabin singing a pirate song and pretending to climb a ship’s mast.’

  Charlie laughed as casually as she could manage. But they were parting company in the morning and a dull ache of foreboding had lodged in her stomach.

  ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’ She sounded lame, but she couldn’t manage witty.

  ‘Okay,’ Gabe replied, again taking another step back and picking up the dishes. He looked at her for a long time. ‘See you in the morning.’ He d
isappeared inside.

  Charlie slumped back in her chair. She was determined to find her own way in the world, on her own terms, so why was watching Gabe walk away so hard?

  Gabe flipped onto his back again. He couldn’t get comfortable. Sleep eluded him. His thoughts kept straying to Charlie, who lay in a bed just a few metres away.

  He’d so nearly asked her to come back to England with him. But she was in Italy to recover from her low-life fiancé. He shouldn’t mess with that. Anyway, she lived on the other side of the world.

  He shifted again onto his side.

  They were leaving for England and Charlie would continue her Italian trip and return to Australia. That was just the way it had to be.

  But the image of her beautiful face shining as she gazed at the bracelet had him thumping his pillow with frustration.

  The morning came with an insane rush of last-minute packing, bolted breakfast and the hauling of suitcases. Before she knew it, Charlie was holding Rupert’s hand and standing on the pavement outside the apartment building. Gabe and Amelia were making a final check of the apartment. A taxi idled outside, waiting for them to bring the remaining suitcases.

  ‘Right, all present and accounted for,’ Gabe said as he emerged from the apartment block. He hoisted the last of the bags into the boot of the taxi. ‘Okay, kids, time to say goodbye to Charlie.’

  The children rushed at her and she kneeled to cuddle them both. Tears blurred her vision but she quickly blinked them back.

  ‘We’ve had such a good time, haven’t we?’ she said, pulling them close.

  Rupert sniffed. ‘Will we ever see you again?’

  ‘Of course, darling. I’ll be coming to England in a few weeks. Just overnight, but we might be able to catch up then.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, but his arms tightened around her neck.

  ‘Sorry, chaps, we have to go. We’ll miss our flight,’ Gabe said, gently drawing the children towards the taxi.

  Charlie helped bundle them into their seats. Then once again she and Gabe were facing each other on an Italian pavement.