“Yes,” Susannah admitted after a moment. “But only—”
“No buts or onlys. You brought him into this deal, you can take him out again.”
“How do you expect me to do that?” Her voice rose, incredulous. “Horton’s management accepted the Carlisle offer. The contracts are drawn.”
“Drawn, but not signed.”
Of course the contracts weren’t signed—they wouldn’t be until both sides of the deal she’d negotiated with Alex were fulfilled.
“As for how—” he paused to pull on a sweatshirt “—I don’t care. That’s your problem.”
Stunned by the audacity of his demand, Susannah took several seconds to realise what the sweatshirt meant. By then he’d gathered towel and water. “You’re leaving?” she asked on a note of alarm.
“We’ve said all that needs to be said for now. I’ll leave you to make your phone calls.”
Every instinct screamed at her to stop him, to explain the impossibility of what he asked, but as much as she railed against admitting it, he was right. She needed to think, to chart her options, to decide who to call.
Her mind had started to chew over that conundrum when he paused at the door.
“One of those calls should be to your mother,” he said, as if he’d read her mind. “Ask her what she knows about me returning your calls. And while you’re chatting, you might want to get your stories straight about your engagement.”
He had called.
A week ago, according to Miriam Horton, who’d taken the call at the Melbourne office of Susannah’s concierge service. Her mother wasn’t a permanent employee, God forbid, but she helped out when necessary. Sometimes the need wasn’t Susannah’s, but more often Miriam’s. Despite her many charity committees and her directorship at Horton Holdings, Miriam still needed more to fill the chasm created by her husband’s death three years ago.
She needed to be needed, a condition Susannah understood all too well.
What Susannah didn’t understand was Miriam’s failure to pass on the news of Donovan’s call. A week ago. A week of days spent working alongside her mother every day, preparing her for Susannah’s absence over the next two weeks.
In the manager’s office of The Palisades, Susannah released her icy clutch on the phone and paced to the window. How could her mother have kept this to herself?
“You were about to leave with Alex, to visit the Carlisle family’s ranch,” she had justified. “I know how uptight you were about meeting his mother and convincing his brothers he’d made the right choice of wife. On top of your business stress, I didn’t want to load you with another burden.”
“A client is never a burden,” Susannah had reminded her.
“A client?” Miriam tsked her disapproval. “We both know Donovan Keane transcended that boundary.”
Susannah ignored the jibe and concentrated on the question at hand. “You should have told me he called.”
“What good would that have done, darling?”
I would have been warned of his imminent reappearance, I could have prepared my explanation, I might not have made an ill-informed goose of myself. “I would not have been caught out when he called back.”
There’d been a moment’s pause, the sound of air being drawn through delicate nostrils. “I told him, in no uncertain terms, never to call you again.”
“That was not your place.”
“It is always a mother’s place to protect her child,” Miriam countered, “as you will discover once you are a mother. That man used you, darling, and then he cast you aside. Now you’re engaged to marry an honourable man whose word you can trust. Surely I don’t need to remind you of that?”
Of course she didn’t, but Donovan’s final sling about getting the facts straight rang in her ears. “What, exactly, did you tell him about my engagement?”
“I don’t recall my exact words.”
“Did you mention when I accepted Alex’s proposal?” When her mother hmmed vaguely, Susannah went very still. Miriam Horton did not do vague. Her sharp-as-a-whip recall of names, places, facts was legendary in Melbourne society circles. It also made her a valuable, if aggravating, member of Susannah’s At Your Service team. “Did you tell him I was engaged when we met? When we came down here for that weekend?”
“He may have gleaned that impression, but I don’t see why that should be an issue.”
Caught between exasperation and a sinking sense of acceptance, Susannah pinched the bridge of her nose. At least now she understood why he’d looked at her so differently, why he’d been so scathing, why he’d sensed collusion between her and Alex.
“You said he called,” Miriam continued.
“Last night. He’s here, Mother. In Australia.”
“Please tell me you’re not seeing him, Susannah. Please tell me this isn’t why Alex called, asking if I knew where you’d gone today. He sounded very unlike himself, edgy and short and slightly…annoyed.”
More than slightly, Susannah predicted, turning away from the window with a heavy sigh. And she didn’t blame him. After deciding to fly down here in the early hours of this morning, she’d tried to call him, to tell him she was going away to think things over, but he hadn’t answered his phone…and wasn’t that becoming the story of her life?
In her frantic rush to organize travel and get to the airport in time for her flight, she’d left the task of contacting him to her half sister. Zara would have delivered the message, Susannah had no doubt. She also wouldn’t have been daunted by Alex or bullied into revealing anything more than the message.
However, Susannah had learned in the last thirty minutes how easily the message-delivery system could go pear-shaped…and the consequences of miscommunication. The idea of dealing with another thwarted alpha-on-a-mission filled her with trepidation, but she had to call Alex. She had to let him know she was all right, that she hadn’t walked out on him, that she’d simply panicked when faced with a tricky problem from her past. She still intended to marry him just as soon as they could schedule a time and a celebrant.
In several decisive strides, she crossed to the desk and picked up the landline phone. There was no cell coverage in this remote corner of the country, which was a plus or a minus for the resort depending on the client. She imagined both Alex and Zara would have tried to contact her, that they would both be puzzled by her uncharacteristic “disappearance,” since she’d left no clue as to her destination and never went anywhere without her phone.
With all the misunderstandings swirling in the air, protecting her location had turned out to be a smart move. A face-off between Donovan and Alex could only end in an ugly confrontation. She had created this twisted mess and she needed to unravel it.
Starting with a phone call to Alex, and finishing with the explanation Donovan deserved.
Two
F rom a sheltered perch in his villa’s hot tub, Van tracked the bobbing progress of the yellow umbrella as it dipped in and out of sight behind clusters of brush and jutting outcrops of rock. As well as sealed roadways that provided vehicular access to the accommodations, a series of rustic walking paths traversed the steeply sloped headland…although he didn’t think Susannah was taking a nice, invigorating stroll in the rain.
Van had tried that himself after leaving the fitness centre—more at a run than a walk—before easing his overworked muscles into the swirling water. To help him relax, a bottle of pinot noir sat open at his side. The combination had been working a treat until he spotted the zigzagging umbrella zeroing in on his ridgetop location.
It had been ninety minutes since they spoke. Ninety minutes to make her phone calls, to compare notes, to concoct whatever comeback she brought back to the table. And that’s what she would do. Van had no illusions about that. If her stake in this deal wasn’t high, she would not have hared down here today. She wouldn’t have reacted so strongly to his accusations. She would have shrugged them off or called his bluff by handing him Alex Carlisle’s business card.
/> Earlier he’d been tense and on guard, wary of giving away his one point of weakness. If she’d latched on to his deficient memory of that weekend, she could have grabbed a huge advantage. Instead she’d handed him the gift of her knowledge and the desire to unwrap it. If he asked the right questions or made suitable leading statements, she would fill in some of the memory gaps…and after meeting her, he wanted more than ever to fill in those gaps.
It wasn’t only her beauty—expected, given the pictures he’d seen—but her attitude. He didn’t recall if she’d used the phrase how dare you accuse me, but that was the message trumpeted by her defensive stance and haughty gaze.
Who would have thought that affronted dignity could be so damn arousing? Or that wintergreen eyes could light a flame in his blood?
Despite the miles he’d run through the rain, despite the blast of icy wind against his exposed skin, the heat of their encounter still licked through his body. It was no surprise that she’d lured him into her bed on that forgotten weekend. Or, if he wanted to believe her version of events, how much he’d have enjoyed doing the luring. He could imagine how easily the seduction would have gone down.
Hello, I’m Susannah, a few seconds tangling in those deceptively cool eyes, and she could have led him away…or pushed him down to the floor and taken him there.
The fact that he didn’t remember any of the wheres or whens or how many times kicked through him, but not with the same impact as before. Now the frustration was tempered by satisfaction with how their first meeting had played out, as well as anticipation for their upcoming encounter.
He’d done the hard work, now he intended treating himself to a little entertainment.
When she disappeared behind the casuarinas that screened the approach to his villa, he planted both hands on the timber deck and hauled himself out of the water. For an evil beat of time, he contemplated walking to the door as he was. Naked, wet and, now he’d started thinking about who he’d be greeting at the door, aroused.
But he wrapped himself in one of the resort-issue robes, not through any sense of modesty, but for the same reason he’d donned a shirt before facing her in the gym. He didn’t want her eyes drawn to the scars or her mind to their cause. He preferred to keep that in reserve, to play only if absolutely necessary.
With the bottle and emptied glass swinging from one hand, he headed for the sliders that separated terrace from living area. Despite the shelter afforded by the surrounding garden, a wet southeasterly gusted in and plastered the towelling to his damp thighs. It was the kind of unruly blast that could turn a woman’s umbrella inside out, but when he opened the door, Susannah Horton stood on his doorstep, looking disappointingly dry in her tightly buttoned and belted raincoat.
She also wore a look of determined poise, although that faltered slightly when she took in his state of dress. It was the barest glance, before her eyes fixed resolutely on his face, but the trace of heat in her cheeks and eyes gave away her discomfiture. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I’ve caught you in the shower.”
“The hot tub, actually. Would you care to join me?”
She blinked once in surprise before recovering swiftly. “Thank you, but I’ll take a rain check.”
Beautiful, poised and a sense of irony. Van’s appreciation of Susannah Horton grew by the second. “The tub’s sheltered, the water’s warm, the wine’s open.” He saluted her with his glass. “I highly recommend it.”
“I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”
“Nor did I,” Van said evenly. “I don’t see that as a problem.”
The colour in her cheeks sharpened, but she held his gaze steadily. “Nor would I, but we’ve done all the tubbing we will ever do together.”
“I gather it’s my company you object to, and yet here you are.”
“Briefly. I’m leaving at four.”
“Do you always schedule your time this precisely?”
“Only when I have a flight to catch,” she replied smartly, and Van realised she was talking about leaving the resort rather than his villa. All day, the weather had been iffy for the necessary helicopter transfer. He wouldn’t bet on anyone going anywhere until after this storm front passed, but he figured she would find that out for herself soon enough.
Opening the door wider, he waved his wineglass toward the cosy interior. “I’m disappointed you’re passing on the tub, but there’s still the wine. Why don’t you come in and I’ll get you a glass?”
Her elegantly shod feet remained rooted to the spot and, by the look on her face, he might as well have invited her into the wolves’ den. He managed to refrain from baring his teeth. “You might be all snug in your buttoned-up coat, but I’m freezing my ass…ets off here.”
“Perhaps you should put some clothes on,” she suggested. Taking obvious care to avoid contact with anything close to his assets, she edged through the doorway.
No, Van decided with a perverse little smile as he closed the door. I prefer the robe, just to keep you on edge.
And just to keep himself on edge he watched her walk away in skinny-heeled boots that were designed to highlight the sexy arch of her calves and the sway of her hips. “Why don’t you take your coat off,” he said, following her through to the living room. “Make yourself at home. I’ll pour your—”
“This isn’t a social visit,” she replied crisply, still walking, circling the room as if she couldn’t decide where to plant her sexy heels. “No wine for me.”
“So it’s business.” Van deposited glass and bottle on the table. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d have managed to talk Carlisle around in such a short time.”
That brought her up short in front of a leather sofa. She didn’t sit. Shoulders straight and chin high, she turned to face him. “I haven’t spoken to Alex yet. I may not be able to reach him until Monday.”
Van settled his hips against the edge of the dining table and crossed his arms across his chest. Playtime was over…for now. “You can’t reach your fiancé on weekends?”
“He isn’t answering any of his phones, which means he is not in his office or at his home. I will continue to try his cell, but if he’s out of the coverage area—” she shrugged “—there’s nothing else I can do.”
“Convenient.”
“Not particularly,” she countered without missing a beat, although her gaze sharpened as his barb found its mark. “I would prefer if I could reach him.”
“How about your mother? Is she answering any of her phones?”
“Yes, I have spoken with her and she told me about your call last weekend. I’m sorry that she didn’t tell me about that and I’m even more sorry that she mislead you about my engagement.”
Van studied her closely for a second. Playtime was definitely over. “Are you telling me you’re not engaged to Alex Carlisle?”
“I wasn’t in July. I am now.” Her gaze narrowed on his. “Why do I get the feeling that you don’t believe me?”
“Because, apart from your mother, I haven’t managed to find anyone who knows about it. Scores of mentions of you and Carlisle in business and society columns, yet no mention of pending nuptials.”
“Which is exactly the way we like it,” she said with bite. Then, as if annoyed with that minishow of temper, she pressed her lips together and composed herself before continuing in a more measured tone. “Both our families are high profile, especially the Carlisles, and we don’t want a media circus surrounding our wedding plans. Alex decided—we both decided,” she amended quickly, “not to make an announcement until after we’re married.”
“And when will that be?”
For the first time, her eyes shifted nervously and she lifted a hand—her left hand—in a vague fluttery gesture. “I…we haven’t settled on a definite date.”
Van’s eyes shifted to her hand and a grim punch of satisfaction drove him to his feet. “Soon?”
“Yes,” she said, her uneasy gaze steadying and settling. “Very soon.”
Ever
since he’d opened the door, Susannah had been at a distinct disadvantage. Everything from the carelessly knotted robe, to the teasing glint in his eyes, to the suggestion they get naked together in the hot tub, rang with unwanted memories. Inside the villa it was even worse. How could she concentrate when every place they’d kissed, touched and ended up naked was right in front of her eyes?
Of course she’d forced herself to keep those eyes stoically trained on his face, and the tricky nuances of their dialogue had managed to push everything—including his lack of clothes—to the fringes of her mind.
Until now.
As he moved closer, the edges of her vision and the core of her senses swam with the knowledge of how little he wore and how exposed she felt. Her heartbeat thickened and bumped painfully hard against her ribs. She didn’t know what he wanted, why he’d suddenly shoved to his feet, why that narrowed gaze had suddenly focussed so intently on her—
“Why aren’t you wearing a ring?”
Susannah stared back at him. She opened her mouth, found no answer and shut it again. In that beat of time, he picked up her left hand.
“Isn’t that the usual procedure when you’re engaged to be married? A diamond ring on this finger?”
He illustrated by grazing her ring finger with the pad of his thumb. It was a simple touch, but he stood close enough that she breathed the male heat of his skin, and her body acknowledged a myriad of other touches that were not so innocent. Warmth suffused her skin and pooled low in her belly but she fought it gamely. “I don’t have an engagement ring.”
“Carlisle didn’t buy you a diamond? What did he give you then? A share package? Expansion capital? An exclusive agreement to use your service in the Carlisle hotel chain?”
His voice was soft and mocking, but his watchful eyes never left hers. Wasn’t this why she’d hiked up here—to dispel the misconceptions and tell him the truth? To explain why the demand he’d made of her was impossible to deliver? Her stomach churned with trepidation, but she had to try.
Tycoon's One-Night Revenge Page 2