by Joanne Hill
They walked out of the grounds, people rushing past, some a little worse for wear after indulging in the obscenely priced liquor. Daniel took her hand again. “So we don’t get lost,” he remarked, as a particularly rambunctious group of young men, rejoicing in their team’s win, jostled past. “I hear it was a sell-out.”
Mel glanced at his hand, and found herself mesmerised by the sight, and by the feel. His hand was large and warm, with a grip that said possession without control. She suddenly noticed women watching them both and her spirits lifted. Maybe they thought she was his girlfriend. His lover even.
Or maybe, she thought as he said, “Whoa” when she came close to stepping over the curb, they figured she was his poor simple sister and he had to hold on to her so she didn’t wander off and get run over. Her spirits were taking a rapid dive when a voice called, “Daniel?”
An older man, gray hair on the cusp of turning white, walked towards them, a surprised grin on his face
A supporter’s scarf draped his neck even though the evening was almost warm.
“Hugh. Why am I not surprised?” They shook hands and Daniel introduced them. “Hugh Devereaux, this is my… that is, she’s…” His gaze fixed on Mel a long moment, as if trying to figure out what to call her. Similarly, her mind had reached a total blank.
“Friend,” he said finally. “And Mel, this is Hugh Devereaux. Hugh is a family friend and our company lawyer.”
“Charmed, Melissa.” Hugh took her hand, bent and kissed it. “Or is it Melanie?”
Daniel sighed wearily, and Mel grinned, instantly warming to the handsome, older man. “No, it’s Melinda. But call me Mel.”
“Mel it is. It’s good to meet any female friend of Daniel’s. A rare occurrence.”
Really? She stared at Daniel who looked as if he’d heard the comment a million times and was heartily sick of it. Surely he had women friends all over the place, just waiting for the nod.
Hugh turned his attention to Daniel, his bushy eyebrows raised impossibly high above light blue eyes. “What on earth brings you to the park, Dan? You detest football. What made you see the light?”
Daniel’s face tightened. “I owed Mel,” he said briskly. “Mel’s the supporter.”
Alarm settled like a fog across her. He’d brought her here only because he thought she was the footie fan? She didn’t mind it but that was only for her mother.
“Well, I wouldn’t call myself a…” She swallowed, and stared back at him. “You mean you don’t really like football?”
Daniel waggled his hand in a fifty-fifty gesture.
“He loathes it,” Hugh put in.
“Loathe is an exaggeration,” Daniel told her. “I prefer to channel my physical energies into other things. I rowed at varsity and I whack a squash ball around the court now and then. Suits me fine.”
She dropped her gaze to his broad shoulders. She could imagine him rowing. He looked like a rower, now she thought of it. All that power and muscle, not to mention the determination to row mile after mile, water glistening off his skin, sun hitting his body. The power in his thighs…
He turned to her, and his eyes glimmered as if he had read her mind. Impossible. Hugh slapped Daniel on the back. “At least his allegiance lies with the family firm, not with a team that darn well lost a match they should have won.”
Daniel gestured ahead. “Hugh, how about a lift home? I assume you caught a taxi.” They were out on the main road now, and he said, “We’re parked up here, it’s not far to walk. And I’ll be dropping Mel off back at her place.”
Hugh glanced straight at her and his gaze held a curious fraction. It was loaded with enough questions that she felt like an ant under a magnifying glass. Daniel seemed ambivalent to the speculation as Hugh agreed, “I’ll take you up on it. It’ll save me a taxi fare.”
Mel noted his tailored jacket and trousers, and leather shoes that looked out of a GQ fashion shoot. He looked as if the last thing he’d ever need to worry about would be the cost of a taxi fare.
“So Mel,” he said as they joined in the stream moving away from the sports ground, “what did you think of the game?”
Daniel hit the incline on the treadmill, and ran harder. Faster. Within a minute his breath was ragged, but he didn’t let up on the gruelling pace.
On the treadmill alongside, Hugh walked at a more sedate pace. They were both silent, both lost in thoughts, the only other sound coming from the rowing machine the head of HR was using as she rowed her lungs out. Daniel had dated her twice then broken it off, keeping it strictly business. It had not been difficult. Work and pleasure did not mix which pretty much meant that pleasure took second place to anything. Work ruled. Always had, always would.
His mind shifted suddenly to Melinda Green. In the days since the rugby game, he’d thought about her, especially in those moments when thinking about the mess his grandfather was in proved too much. Last night he’d thought about her a lot, and it had nothing to do with midnight sweats. Sure, he’d avoided thinking about the fact that when their legs had touched at the rugby game he’d felt a zing shoot up his thigh that had shocked him. Outwardly, there was nothing about her that would send a man’s pulse through the roof. But there had been something in that moment. Clearly an aberration.
He lowered the incline, reached for his water bottle, and slowed his pace. He needed to talk to Hugh. He slowed even further as his heart rate began to come down and he finally said, “What did you think of Mel Green?” He slugged back more water, waited for Hugh.
“Melinda?” Hugh pulled the towel from around his neck. “Melinda was a delight. Charming, smart, funny. Dedicated to her elderly mother.” He gave a chuckle as he slowed his treadmill right down. “I like that about a person.”
Daniel had to admit he did too.
He capped his bottle, continued walking at a slow pace as Hugh stepped off his machine. Daniel said, “I saw grandfather last night.”
“And?” Hugh gave a half-hearted attempt at stretching.
Daniel wiped sweat from his brow. “Remember Angela Vella? I went on a few dates with her last September.”
Hugh shook his head. “I try not to take an interest in your personal life because the lack of it depresses both me and your grandfather.”
Daniel draped his towel around his neck. “Funny you say that. Grandfather thinks I’m involved with her.”
“Why would he think that?” Hugh reached for an energy drink, pulled the tab.
“Because I haven’t told him otherwise.”
Hugh frowned. “You said you dated this woman in September. It’s now April. You better set him straight or he’ll think an engagement is imminent.”
Daniel switched off the treadmill. “He does. He asked me when I was going to make an honest woman of her.”
Hugh shot him a glance. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him he’d be the first to know.” He wiped his face. “And that he wouldn’t have long to wait.”
Hugh went still. “Just so I have this straight. You dated a woman twice. Arthur believes you’re still dating. Which with your record means it’s serious. And then you tell him wedding bells are just around the corner?”
“Yes.” Daniel stretched his legs, eased slowly and held. Pushed it further. Punishment.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell him the truth?”
“The same reason we didn’t tell him about Sean and Everett. His health is failing. I didn’t – I don’t - want to upset him.”
Hugh looked as if he were about to explode. “What were you thinking?”
Daniel stretched his other leg. What was he thinking? That he wanted his grandfather to think one of his grandsons wasn’t a complete failure. That he could make up for the mess he’d made with his brothers, and the broken promises.
“I haven’t actually told Arthur I’m getting married. Not in so many words.”
“You call what you just told me, ‘so many words’?”
They collected their to
wels, walked through the gym to the changing room and Hugh spluttered, “What you just did was lie.”
“What I did was see a smile on my grandfather’s face.”
“That will wear out pretty soon when you can’t keep this charade up. Unless you intend getting this Angela on the phone and putting the question to her.”
“I won’t be doing that.”
They entered the changing room. It was empty and Hugh said, “As I see it, you have to come clean because you will never be able to keep up this charade. You have to tell him the relationship ended.”
“Or find an alternative solution. And there is one option.”
Hugh frowned, rubbed his chin. “The only other solution as I see it is to find yourself a wife.”
Daniel’s gut churned. That was the decision he’d come to at four o’clock this morning, absurd as it was. He couldn’t bear to see more disappointment on his grandfather’s face if he told him the truth. Arthur believed in love that lasted, had known it with his wife – believed in it with a passion. Man was meant to be with woman. The fact all his children and grandchildren had failed in that area had disappointed him more than he had ever been able to express.
“I have a plan,” Daniel said.
Hugh stared at him with an intensity that had sent opposition lawyers cringing.
“What plan?”
“I fake a marriage.”
Hugh frowned. “Not only is that objectionable but why on earth would a woman you dumped be interested?’
“Not Angela. I’m thinking about…” This was the crazy part. This was the bit that had taken over his thoughts the past twenty-four hours. “I’m thinking of Mel Green.”
Hugh’s bushy white eyebrows shot up. “Melinda Green?”
“We offer her a temporary job first. Get her in the building so we can observe her, and we’ll have enough information in forty-eight hours to make a judgement call on her. If she agrees, we go to a second deal. If she says yes, we marry. We keep it low key. Very low key. I don’t want the media getting hold of this. Then, when my grandfather…” He cleared his throat. It was going to happen. Sir Arthur was eighty-three and in shocking health, and he was not going to get well. “When he isn’t around to witness the mess I’ve made, we divorce.”
“You’re doing this to spare your grandfather’s feelings? I’m not sure whether that’s mad or honorable.”
It was both. “From what Mel let slip the other night, I believe there’s the possibility she’d be amenable to an agreement. On the surface, she stacks up. She has an education and I doubt she harbors any secret agendas. And I’m sure you read between the lines.” Mel had spoken about losing her job and having to leave her flat. She was in trouble. “She’s flat broke and she’s worried about it. She needs money.” And he knew from experience that everyone had a price. Some, for totally dishonorable reasons. He pushed what little he remembered about his mother aside. Mel, at least, appeared to have honorable reasons for considering a cash sum. Survival.
Hugh was silent, then he raked his hand through his hair. “That’s your plan?”
“In a nutshell.”
“It’s ludicrous.”
“I never said it wasn’t.”
“I can honestly say I’ve heard it all now.” Hugh shrugged. “Okay. Okay. I understand why you want do this. But the fact is…” He phrased his words carefully. “Arthur’s health is…” He exhaled long and slow. “What I’m trying to say is that you might not even need to… It could be a waste of time, Dan.”
Sir Arthur could die in the next few weeks and this could be an unnecessary waste of time. But he could also live longer, he could find a treatment that worked, defy the odds. Money was no object with the Christies.
“I know what you’re saying, Hugh, but I choose to think more optimistically about his health. And I want to do this.” No, he needed to do this. He needed to feel he had achieved something that would make his grandfather’s last days happy. Even if it was by pure deception, even if it was the ends that justified the means.
It would be the only time in his thirty five years he had ever believed that.
“Okay.” Hugh nodded. “You marry a stranger. You keep Arthur happy. And I’ve no doubt it’ll take his mind off your brothers.”
“Plan A it is,” Daniel agreed. There was a sick feeling in his stomach. He ignored it.
“And Plan B?” Hugh prompted.
Daniel didn’t move a muscle. “There is no Plan B.”
CHAPTER THREE
Mel began to bite the top of her finger nail, realised what she was doing, and clutched the folder with her resume instead. She’d never been a nail biter. She’d sat in her office with nail biting school kids, kids who had the weight of the world on their slender shoulders, kids who couldn’t seem to see a future ahead of them, but she had never, ever bitten her own.
But then, how often were you sitting in the plush office of one of the most eligible bachelors in Sydney? How often was the man in question just a few feet away from you, exuding a degree of power and sex you only saw in the pages of GQ? All her adult life she had counseled teenagers in suburban high schools with suburban budgets. This was as unreal as it got, and she was going to be working for him over the next two days. Sure, it was only temporary, but it was a start. It was a job.
Daniel stood in profile, his phone against one ear, as he looked out over the Sydney skyline. He’d been on the phone when his PA Nora had showed her in. He’d acknowledged her with a bare wave and had resumed his conversation in low tones. Finally, he disconnected the call, a frown heavy on his face as he stalked to the desk.
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if anything was wrong, but from the way he snapped the phone back in the cradle, it was a redundant question. Things undoubtedly went wrong all the time in his billionaire world, and were sorted out expediently.
He came around, sat on the edge of the desk, and folded his arms across his chest. The fabric of his tailored suit barely creased, and she swallowed hard on a dry-as-sand throat. That was another thing. She’d been unprepared for just how – rich – he looked, and it was intimidating. She’d seen him in casual pants and a shirt, and later in jeans and a tee. Now he was in a black suit, with a striped shirt, a blue and gray tie, and his dark hair smoothed back over his perfectly shaped head, hair that grazed below the edge of his shirt collar. She’d always considered that look to be manufactured and a little sleazy, but on him it looked as if it were meant to be. As if he were the only person on the planet who could possibly look that comfortable.
“Right on time,” he said finally. For a second the frustration in his blue eyes lifted and he mused, “I like punctuality.”
He sounded different. His voice was deeper, throatier. More dangerous. A tingle of warning trickled down her spine and suddenly she felt completely out of her depth. This wasn’t her. This office, this view. She should leave now. Try for a job as a check-out operator instead.
“What do you have there?” He gestured to her white knuckled hands clutching the folder.
“My resume. For you.”
He reached out and took it, the movement wafting his cologne to her. A woodsy scent. The kind that clouded your senses, made you forget...
The pile of unpaid bills on the table. She focused. No, she wasn’t leaving. She needed any work she could get and the job was hers if she wanted it. Which was odd, given he could snap his fingers and agencies would send him staff in a heartbeat, but she wasn’t about to question it. Right time, right place, that was all. “This is my resume, and also references and referees from my last position at the high school.” She added, “I was on the staff there for four years.”
“Thank you.” He took the folder and set it down on his desk. “Nora will send it down to HR.”
He looked hard at her for long, long seconds. The urge to cross her legs the other way or shift on her seat was overwhelming. She couldn’t have felt more like a spider being examined under a microscope than if he’d been
standing directly over her.
Finally, he relaxed his gaze. “Your work for the day is fairly straightforward. Nora has an appointment scheduled for the remainder of the morning so you will manage her desk until she returns at noon. In the afternoon, Hugh will look after you and show you the ropes.”
Really? She’d imagined herself vanquished to an office somewhere in the bowels of the building with dozens of other hard working employees. But no. She was staying here, in offices with pristine carpet, walnut furniture and the delicious smell of class.
His gaze skipped down to her feet and back up again. “Tell me about yourself.”
Her toes tingled and she focused on the question. “I have a degree in psychology and English, with a Diploma in Counseling, and –”
“No.” He cut her off swiftly. “Not your academic or work history, Mel. I can look at your resume for that. I mean about you. What do you like to do in your spare time, what do you and your friends get up to in the weekends? What hobbies do you have, what interests you?”
“Oh.” Crikey. She’d rehearsed her work history but not her personal one. She thought fast as her mind flicked back over the past twelve months. It was embarrassingly bereft of substance. “Last year was an interesting year.”
His eyebrows arched. “How so?”
She coughed to clear her throat, hoped she’d cleared away some of the embarrassment as well. “I got engaged.”
His gaze narrowed, so hard she almost flinched. “You never mentioned you were engaged.” It was almost an accusation.
“I was engaged. Max and I…we broke up.” It was the last thing she wanted to talk about with Daniel Christie, or anyone, for that matter. “Do any of these questions have any impact on my ability to do the job, because they are extremely personal and I assure you, won’t affect my work.”
“No impact at all.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But I’m sorry to hear your relationship ended. That’s always unfortunate.” His forehead creased. “An unfortunate event in anyone’s life.”