by Paula Roe
Mile upon mile of red sand, punctuated by a hint of scrub. With most of Australia still in the throes of waning winter, August in outback Northern Territory meant rolling hot sand dunes, coupled with freezing cold nights.
She’d looked up the National Bureau of Meteorology on the Internet while waiting for Alex’s car service and stumbled across a real-time Web site that beamed Ayers Rock, Diamond Bay Resort and the Yandurruh community to the entire world.
Gabriela had mentioned the resort once but her bare-bones description didn’t do the stunning Internet feed justice. And now, looming in the distance, Yelena could just make out the shiny, curved dips and arches of Australia’s most exclusive resort.
Perched on the edge of sacred Aboriginal land that included distinctive Ayers Rock, she’d expected Diamond Bay to be a towering eyesore in comparison to the Outback’s raw beauty. But instead of a monstrosity, the resort was more like an undulating oasis. As the plane took a pass then looped back around to the small airstrip, Yelena unashamedly pressed her nose up against the cold glass. The structure flowed across the land, shimmering in the midday sun, the elegant, curving roofs rolling gently like an enormous albatross flying low across the stark red desert that stretched far into the distance.
Tension momentarily forgotten, she turned to Alex.
“What made your father build such a lavish resort way out here?”
Slowly, almost reluctantly, he raised his gaze from his papers to meet her eyes. “For privacy. And solitude.” Then he turned back to his work, dismissing her.
Yelena inwardly cringed at his polite response, stripped of any inflection.
Was it so difficult to look at her, to talk to her? An unwelcome tangle of regret stuck in her throat and Yelena swallowed, forcing it down.
Thankfully, the awful silence was drowned out by the mechanics of the landing plane, then the clunk of doors and whirr of steps.
As she grabbed her jacket then reached for Bella, she felt Alex’s presence close behind. When she turned, she saw her briefcase in his hand. With a spare silent nod, he indicated she should precede him.
Murmuring her thanks, she took the metal steps one slow clink at a time, keenly aware of Alex following, watching her every step.
A long, black limousine met them at the airstrip, and as Alex silently held the door open for her, Yelena noticed the baby capsule in the backseat.
She strapped a gurgling Bella down and got in, leaving Alex the window. When the door closed with a solid thunk, sealing them off in air-conditioned comfort sudden claustrophobia from the familiar spacious luxury made her breath catch. It had everything to do with the man who sat broodingly beside her, giving her the cold shoulder as if she’d committed an unforgivable sin.
With a sad sigh, she tilted her body away from him and murmured soft nothings at her daughter, making smiley faces as she quickly glanced at her watch.
Six days, twelve hours to go.
She placed a hand on Bella’s little kicking feet, tension sending her stomach into a hundred fluttery butterflies.
This was ridiculous. Resolutely she pulled her back straight and turned in her seat, giving Alex her full attention.
“What do you want to achieve from this campaign?”
Visibly startled, he turned from the window, his expression dark as thunder. Yet he remained silent.
“Alex?” She prompted. “Your goals?”
“Who’s the father?”
She recoiled. “That’s none of your business!”
“Like hell it’s not.”
“Like hell it is!” Fury boiled up, singeing her control. “We are over, Alex. You and I have a business relationship, nothing more. I don’t discuss my private life with clients and I don’t intend to start now.”
“And yet you bring your daughter on a business trip.”
Her eyes narrowed. “This is the first time a client has made unreasonable demands. You left me no choice.”
“Everyone always has a choice, Yelena.”
She stiffened but refused to bite. “If you’re concerned about not having my full attention, I can assure you Bella will in no way inhibit my ability to do my job.”
“I see.” His stare felt like smoldering flames on Yelena’s skin. Fury, yes, but also a sliver of something else. Pride? Pain?
No. Alex Rush would never show that type of vulnerability.
A hard knot twisted inside her. For a second, she thought she’d seen something more beneath that hostile surface. The way he held his body, the tight line of his jaw, the flinty eyes, all convinced her of that.
Once upon a time they’d been friends. She should be relieved he’d managed to clamp a lid on his emotions, yet all she felt was cheated somehow.
“I can’t offer you anything, Alex, except my full and utter focus on your campaign. Please respect that.” I can’t erase what you see as a painful betrayal. Instead she gathered up her self-control and forged on. “Now. Tell me about your goals for this campaign.”
He glared at her, almost disbelieving, until suddenly, something cold and distant swept over him.
He glanced away, too nonchalant to be convincing. “For months the papers have been peddling lies and gossip about my father having an affair.”
Yelena nodded. “I read the clippings. How’s that affected your mother and sister?”
“My mother was politely asked to leave two of her charity boards. Instead of the usual phone calls, invitations and appearance requests, there’s been a thunderous silence. And Chelsea’s tennis trials sponsor pulled out which, before you ask, isn’t about the money—it’s about the stamp of approval being withdrawn on the basis of a bunch of lies.”
“And, of course, your father isn’t around to defend himself.”
He gave her a sharp, unreadable look. “Of course,” he echoed.
“Alex…” She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a second. “Was your father cheating?”
A sudden scowl creased his forehead. “No.”
He paused as if about to add more, but when silence followed she asked slowly, “Can you be a hundred percent sure?”
“Of course I can’t—no one can!”
“Okay.” She ignored his hot glare and continued. “So we need to refocus, attract positive attention. An effective campaign is about subtlety—we want to create a slow but steady groundswell of public support without being blatant.”
“If you’re thinking of going down that clichéd, ‘bring out the loving family for the press conference’ route—”
Her mouth twisted. “No, I’ll leave that to our next disgraced politician. It’s a well-used tactic but it does evoke remorse and sympathy—you know, the whole ‘he loves his family so he must be a good guy’ thing. But it has to be done right. Tell me, while we’re on the topic of your father, did you ever issue a public statement declaring your innocence in his death?”
“My solicitor did.”
“But did you, personally?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” He frowned. “I was never charged. The police investigation was a complete farce, based on anonymous tips and half-baked rumors. I didn’t want to give it more attention.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t.” He met her gaze stonily. “After my father died, there was an almighty outpouring of public sympathy. The great and brilliant William Rush, taken in his prime. It went on for weeks—his brutal childhood and meteoric rise from poverty, his business dealings, influential friends. Then when I was dragged in for questioning, his fondness for gambling and drinking started making headlines.”
“That’s when it turned.”
“Exactly. The cheating rumors were the last straw. My mother doesn’t deserve that kind of smear. Nor does Chelsea.” His eyes suddenly sparked, burning with purpose. “You asked me what I want from this campaign? I want my family to be accepted on their own achievements, not judged based on malicious gossip. I want you to woo the press, the pub
lic and their peers. And I want you to do it with subtlety.”
“I’m always discreet.”
“No. I mean, as far as everyone is concerned, I am not your client. And you are not running my PR campaign. I don’t want to give the press any cynical ‘stage-managed spin’ headlines.”
“I see,” she said, frowning, not seeing at all. “So how do you intend to explain my presence?”
Alex’s brief scrutiny said much more than his casual shrug. “Old friends catching up?”
Yelena’s stomach pitched as the car pulled smoothly to a stop. Flustered, she shoved her bag strap over her shoulder and began to unclip Bella. “Who’s going to believe that?”
“They believed all that crap about my father, didn’t they?”
Yelena gently lifted the sleeping baby then got out of the limo. “Why on earth would I—” The words died on her tongue as she straightened, her cursory glance transforming into a wide-eyed stare.
She gulped. This place wasn’t five-star—it was a hundred. From the ground, the resort’s magnificence couldn’t be more obvious. The frontage was old-style Grecian villa, with twin marble entry columns, sky-blue tiles and sky-high ceilings. Yet the apartments that rose on either side screamed sleek sophistication. The unusual rolling-roof design was stunning, the white-and-blue tiles complementing the stark desert surroundings.
“Takes your breath away, doesn’t it?”
Yelena turned back to Alex, who was leaning against the car door with crossed arms and ankles, a powerful, commanding figure in brooding silence.
Ouch. The snapshot moment tightened her chest in painful remembrance. Last year, the same man but with a come-hither smile. She’d been leaving work, only to find him leaning nonchalantly on her car. Then he’d reached out and kissed her until her knees gave way…
All she could do was nod and slip her sunglasses up her nose. “Gabriela said the place was huge but…”
His blink-and-you’d-miss-it frown forced her words back down her throat.
“It was designed by Tom Wright, the guy who did Dubai’s Burj Al Arab.” His response was cool and impersonal, setting her teeth on edge. “I’ll show you to your room.” He nodded to the steward, who had their bags in hand, then strode into the marble-columned entrance without waiting to see if she would follow.
Before his long-legged strides took him to the far wall of his suite, Alex spun around and resumed pacing, raking a hand through his hair. He scrubbed at the roots, recalling that brief conversation in the car.
He’d known Yelena for nearly fifteen years, a good part of those spent lusting after her in typical adolescent fantasy. But he’d never, ever thought her capable of deliberate deceit. Until now.
Was your father cheating?
Why had she asked when she damn well knew the answer? She’d overheard his argument with his father, and hadn’t hesitated to share what she knew with Carlos.
He reached the wall again and with a curse and a growl, turned.
She was trying to throw him, to make out she was innocent. That had to be it. Yet…
There’d been a small hesitancy in her question, a flush to her cheeks. The way her dark eyes briefly met his then flitted away.
He ground to a halt, a foot away from the sleek, monochrome writing desk. Carlos’s betrayal had seriously screwed up his mind, made him doubt himself for the first time since…
He snapped his head up, glaring at his reflection in the golden mirror above the desk. Thanks to that one mistake, he’d spent the past months revisiting every deal, every business choice he’d made. More bloody time wasted on second-guessing perfectly legitimate decisions.
With an angry sigh he yanked his tie loose and undid the top buttons of his shirt.
It would drive him crazy if he let it. He’d already allowed sentiment to seep in, putting him two steps back with Yelena.
Way to start the big seduction, mate. Yet he couldn’t stop the questions from tumbling out, the need to know overriding all common sense. Yelena always had that effect on him. Twice he’d let anger rule the moment and twice she’d slammed up the shield, using their business relationship as defense. If he kept pissing her off, he’d have a better chance of harnessing a bushfire than getting her into bed. It was time to refocus on his plan.
Just like that his brain emptied, Yelena’s features charging into the void to hijack his senses. Finally, his body seemed to groan. You’ve caught up.
It’d been too long since her subtle, exotic scent had sent him into meltdown, since he’d felt the silken slide of that wild chocolate hair against his skin.
And another man had claimed that right.
No. A bolt of fury jerked his jaw into a clench, unable to stop his mind from going there.
It could have been your child. Yours and Yelena’s.
With gritted teeth he forced himself to let it go. And if his father hadn’t been drunk and drowned in their pool, this alternate reality would cease to exist. But he had and now Alex had to deal with everything stemming from that one life-changing event.
If he couldn’t get a grip, then his plans were history. Which left his family with nothing but a legacy of scandal and lies, terrible reminders of a past that he’d vowed would be buried with his tyrant father.
He glared out the large glass doors, out onto the wild beauty of the Australian Outback. To his far left, the distinctive ochre of Ayers Rock loomed, a sharp contrast to the overt lushness of Diamond Bay.
He loved the peace and isolation of this place. It was the only one of William’s creations that didn’t scream his autocratic presence in every brick and line, the only place untainted by his violence.
Alex absently rubbed a palm across his shoulder, recalling old wounds. He’d regularly endured the man’s fists and his “fight for what you want—no one else will” dictum, a dictum that had surprisingly stuck. The only thing of value he’d gotten from that son of a bitch.
It was time to get his head straight and see this thing through.
The memory of soft eyes and a sinful laugh washed over him, making him groan. That thought carried him out the door, down the heavily carpeted gold-and-cream hallway to the end of the corridor where he’d deliberately placed Yelena.
He knocked and after a muffled “Hang on!” Yelena opened the door with a rushed smile. Her expression faded when she saw him standing there.
She’d removed her business suit. Instead, she was dressed in jeans and a stark white T-shirt, the dark denim a perfect frame for her long legs, the soft cotton shirt clinging demurely to her curves and prodding his imagination into overdrive. Extreme womanly curves.
He offered a thousand colorful curses to his growing libido before she silently stepped aside to let him enter.
“Did Jasmine come and see you?” he asked by way of greeting before striding into the room.
Yelena’s mind blanked as an unexpected tingle flushed her skin, his warm body and familiar scent brushing fleetingly past.
“The babysitter,” he reminded her.
She gave herself a mental shake. “Yes, she’s in the bedroom with Bella. Thank you for arranging that.”
He shrugged then paused in the middle of the room, surveying it. “The resort provides an exceptional nanny service. Is the room to your liking?”
“Perfect—if a bit large.”
“All our suites come with a living area, two bedrooms, separate bathroom. And of course, a view.”
He picked up a remote control from the coffee table and thumbed a button.
Slowly, the curtains began to whir apart.
“Your curtains are electronic?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Her surprise amused him: the small grin he gave had her cool resolve thawing an inch. “Can’t have our guests manually opening their curtains.”
She shook her head, reluctantly matching his smile. “Of course not. They might—oh.”
It was a fantasy view. Dead ahead, a huge cliff face loomed, a waterfall glinting in the sun as it crash
ed over the edge into a massive lagoon. A veritable forest of native flora gathered at the base, creating a protective canopy that shaded a paved walkway. Yelena could barely pick out the private cabanas Diamond Bay provided for all its pool goers.
It was like something from a big-budget movie set where the characters stumbled upon a fertile, ancient land miles below the earth’s surface. Yet Yelena knew it was the real thing. Diamond Bay—the only man-made body of water in the state.
And surrounding it all, the shiny curves of the resort gently undulated, forming a completely decadent—and totally private—haven.
“That’s…”
“Amazing?”
Yelena took one step towards the view, then another. “Breathtaking.”
He crossed his arms. “William Rush did have a taste for the spectacular.”
She slowly swung her gaze to him, studying his profile as he stared out at the view.
Something was off. There was tension, yes. She’d expected that—even disgust, considering what she’d dumped on him in the plane. But there was something more… She grazed her eyes over his face. The almost imperceptible frown creasing his brow. The strong, fixed jaw. The aquiline slope of his nose that led down to a mouth that she remembered was way too warm, way too tempting.
He shifted, those azure eyes snaring her. “I had a feeling you’d like it,” he murmured, almost to himself.
A spark of something deep within flared her senses for one second, but in the next he glanced away and she wondered if she’d just imagined it.
It left her breathless. And irritated.
“I’ll show you where you’ll be working,” he said shortly, completely unaware of his effect on her heart rate.
She nodded, disappeared into the bedroom then returned with her briefcase and a thick notepad.
“Your sister’s fourteen, correct?” Yelena began as they made their way from the suite and down the hushed hall.
“Fifteen in March.” His eyes suddenly relaxed. “You’ve never met her, have you?”
“Once. Gabriela invited her to a thing at the embassy last year.”