by Paula Roe
“Ah, that’s right…the Christmas in July Ball.” They turned left and stopped at the elevator bay. “She was stoked. Couldn’t stop flashing that ‘special guest’ invitation under everyone’s nose.” His mouth quirked as he punched the button.
“Your mother couldn’t come that night—she was sick, right?”
“Yeah.” His eyelids suddenly came down as he crossed his arms, angling his body towards the elevators.
Odd. Yelena frowned but before she could add anything more, Alex spoke, his gaze still on the closed elevator doors.
“That was the night you kissed me for the first time. In the kitchen, remember?”
She snapped her eyes up, cheeks warm. “You kissed me.”
His mouth slanted. “And you told me to take a hike afterwards.”
“You were Gabriela’s boyfriend.”
“Only one of many.”
“Are you accusing my sister of—”
“Oh, come off it, Yelena.” She just caught his eye roll before the doors pinged open. “You and I both know Gabriela’s a good-time girl in every sense of the word. I served as her designated arm decoration when she was in town but I certainly wasn’t her only love interest.”
I can’t talk about this. Yelena tightened her grip on her bag, steadfastly focusing on the closing elevator doors as the memories flushed over her skin, making her tingle.
“Tell me more about Chelsea.”
He paused, letting her know he knew she was changing the subject. Finally, he said, “She’s an amazing kid—a promising tennis player, too. Brash and tough on the outside but inside…”
“A typical teenager—vulnerable and unsure.”
“Yeah.” He looked at Yelena then, his small smile startling her. “What would you know about that?”
“Everything.” Alex watched her mouth twitch as they both left the elevator and headed across the marble lobby. “I was the new kid at school, remember? And a foreigner.”
“I remember your first day.” How could he forget? She’d been every male senior’s wet dream—a stunning, dark-haired beauty driving up to Radford College in a sleek black BMW, hair blowing, fashionably impassive behind flashy Dior sunglasses.
“I was nervous as hell,” she said, snapping him from his fantasy as they kept walking past the reception area.
“Couldn’t tell. You glided through that car park like you owned the place.”
Yelena gave a short laugh as he held open a set of glass doors for her. “‘Glided’? Hardly.”
“Yeah. Gabriela bounces through life. You glide like a perfectly groomed ship on smooth water.” Palm down, he cut his hand through the air, a visual to back up his statement.
“Is that how you see me—perfect? Untouchable?”
He paused, his hand on the door that proclaimed, simply, Alexander Rush. She watched his sensual mouth curve, his piercing blue eyes creasing in sudden humor.
“Never untouchable, Yelena.”
Her breath caught as she remained trapped in the steady knowledge of his gaze. This was the Alex she knew—the teasing charmer who threw out little double entendres just to see her fluster. Not the bitter man flinging accusations in her office. And certainly not the Alex of the dark moments, the hidden secrets and brooding silences she’d thought Gabriela had exaggerated for dramatic effect.
“Coffee?”
“What?”
“I said, do you want coffee?” His mouth tweaked into a delicious grin. “We can have it out by the pool.”
Guiltily she nodded. She’d known her sister and Alex were a mismatch the instant Gabriela had told her…when? May. Over a year ago. A lifetime. Yet she’d loved him in her own way. Didn’t he deserve to know what had happened?
As she stood in the still expanse of Alex’s office, pretending to take in her surroundings while he made a phone call, she wrestled with the promise her parents had wrenched from her. Finally he hung up.
“My mother and Chelsea will meet us at Ruby’s—one of our many coffee bars—at four.”
“Alex…”
“Yes?” He placed his hands on his hips, head tilted in familiar awareness.
Gabriela’s dead. It was right on the tip of her tongue, sitting there all ready to come out, but with one gulp she swallowed it. She’d been clear with Alex from the start—she was here for business. Disturbed at how easy her control had slipped in less than a day, she quickly grabbed for the reins.
“Do your mother and sister know why I’m here?” she asked.
Slowly he leaned against his desk, bracing his palms on the rich, dark wood.
“No. And I don’t want them to, at least not yet. My mother will think it’s unnecessary…that British stiff-upper-lip reserve thing. She’d say I was wasting my money and your time, that everything would eventually blow over—” He stopped midsentence, his jaw tightening. Then he cleared his throat, crossed his arms and said, “They’ve been here two weeks and only just started to relax—I want to keep it that way.”
His pointed look stung. “I know how to do my job.”
“Good.” He nodded to the huge aerial shot of Diamond Bay on the wall opposite. “People pay for a media-free zone here. No papers, TV, phone, Internet—unless by request. I’ve given you a conference room next door with everything you need. Only guests are allowed into the resort, and only then by private plane, so no reporters. You’ll have complete privacy to work.”
Complete privacy. In a stunning resort that radiated Alex’s presence and family power from every floor, every wall. Yet despite the tension rumbling between them like an ominous earthquake warning, she’d felt a connection to this place from the moment she’d set foot on the rich red soil. As if the sole purpose of her stay was to help her relax.
“Do you get to stay here often?”
He paused. “Not as much as I’d like. I travel between Sydney, Canberra, L.A. and London, mostly.”
Yelena tipped her head. “London? So Sprint Travel is thinking of franchising to the U.K.? Carlos…”
Yelena let her words peter out at Alex’s tight face. “Carlos what?”
“He…he just mentioned it in passing.”
“I see,” he said smoothly, before straightening to his full six-foot-three height. “But to answer—no. Rush Airlines has investments in the U.K. and the States. Do you want to see your work space?”
He quickly left the office and walked down the hall, leaving Yelena no choice but to follow.
Four
“Welcome to Diamond Falls, Yelena.” Pamela Rush’s handshake might have been hesitant but her smile was sincerely warm. A pair of flowing beige pants and a floral shirt tied low around her middle emphasized a trim figure, with a large broad-brimmed sun hat completing the ensemble.
“My gardening clothes,” Pam said with a smile, then swept off her hat and gave her short, choppy hair a ruffle. “I have a greenhouse extended onto my suite. We try to be as self-sufficient as we can.”
Yelena noticed the loving smile Pam gave Alex as he sat down. Then she glanced over at the lanky girl—Alex’s sister—who was lounging unceremoniously in the comfy sofa chair opposite.
“I already ordered coffee for us—I hope you don’t mind.” A tinge of worry lit Pam’s eyes. “Unless you drink tea, Yelena…?”
Yelena smiled reassuringly. “Couldn’t function without my coffee.”
“You’re Gabriela’s sister, right?” Chelsea asked as she swung her legs around, her feet landing with a small thunk on the slate floor. The teenager was all long limbs and coltish grace in cutoff denim shorts and black T-shirt declaring Vampire Princess in blood red. Familiar white iPod headphones dangled from her neck, her brown hair pulled up into a ponytail, revealing a makeup-free face. She looked all of ten years old.
“I am,” Yelena said. “You and I met last year.”
“At the Christmas in July Ball.” Chelsea grinned and nodded. “You were dressed in black Colette Dinnigan—from her next season winter collection.”
Yelena smiled. “I
have friends in high places. And you have a good memory. Are you interested in fashion?”
Chelsea shrugged. “Sort of.”
“One of her many interests,” Pamela Rush said with a gentle smile at her daughter. Chelsea blinked and shrugged, trying to carry off teenage blasé but losing. The intelligence in her blue eyes, so like Alex’s, indicated much more depth than Yelena suspected people knew. “Chelsea’s going to be the next Martina,” Pam added proudly.
“Mum!” Chelsea rolled her eyes as she wrapped her headphones around the iPod. “Don’t—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Rush. Drinks?”
The waiter placed three coffees and a thick chocolate shake before them with a flourish. Yelena caught Chelsea’s flushed gaze as it flitted up to the cute waiter then back to the tabletop.
Smothering a smile, she turned her attention to Alex’s mother.
She’d seen photos of Pamela Rush in the gossip magazines and society pages. The former airline hostess had aged well, with hardly a wrinkle on her striking face, no visible grey hairs in her rich, brown pixie cut.
“Didn’t you have long hair at one point?” Yelena asked curiously.
If she hadn’t been studying the woman so closely, she would’ve missed the slight waver on Pam’s lips just before they stretched into a smile.
“Sometimes you just need a change.”
Yelena nodded, glancing away to cover up her embarrassment. Of course. The woman had lost a husband, her son had been accused of murder. Some people ran away, some drank. Some simply went to pieces. Pamela Rush cut her hair.
“So what brings you to Diamond Bay, Yelena?” Pam asked.
Yelena gave Alex a fleeting glance. He raised one eyebrow, inviting her to continue.
“Distraction-free work—”
“And a little relaxation, too.” Alex added evenly, his smile sending a quiver of warmth into her limbs.
“Well, this is the place for it,” Pam said with a nod.
As Pam poured milk into her coffee, Yelena made a few observations. Genuine smile. Polite. Poised. Her fingers twitched, eager to make notes, but knew she’d have to wait until later. Instead she picked up a packet of sugar, gave it a flick then ripped open the top and dumped the contents into her black coffee.
She lowered her eyes to furtively study Alex. He appeared calm, the muscles in his face relaxed, his brow smooth. She even caught a small twitch of approval lingering at the corner of his mouth.
A frisson of pleasure jetted through her body, startling her. This isn’t your first campaign. You can’t let a client’s stamp of approval go to your head.
“Is Gabriela overseas?” Chelsea said suddenly, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.
Thrown, Yelena slowly took her cup and raised it to her lips before focusing her attention on the teenager. “Um…yes.”
“For the fashion season? It starts in September, right, with New York, then London, Milan and Paris?”
It was only after Yelena had taken a sip of scalding coffee and returned the cup to the saucer that she realized her other hand had been halfway up to her necklace. Instinctively her eyes met Alex’s. At his frown, she lowered her hand then clasped them together on the table.
“How do you know?” She gave Chelsea a small, curious smile. “Gabriela wasn’t—” she paused to swallow, then finished faintly “—she hasn’t modeled for years.”
“I know—she’s a booker for Cat Walker Models in Sydney, right? I’ve been following their blog. They said they were going to send staff to cover the shows and I just figured she’d be the obvious choice.”
The dull pain squeezed her heart but she managed to return Chelsea’s smile. “I think you’re more than ‘sort of’ interested in fashion.”
“Yeah,” she muttered and glanced away with a barely hidden grimace. When she returned her gaze to Yelena’s, it was…different. Hard. As if she’d aged ten years in the space of two seconds. “But Dad reckoned it was a waste of time.”
Then she reached for her shake and began to vigorously stir it with the straw.
What on earth was that? Yelena chanced another look at Alex while everyone drank but failed to glean anything from his controlled blue stare.
Too controlled. Yelena dropped her eyes as her thoughts began to snowball. What was going on here? She cast her mind back to this morning, rehashing their conversations. Yet she couldn’t pin down anything tangible, any dead giveaway that would assuage her concerns. It was more a gut feeling, something instinctive that told her Alex wasn’t telling her everything. After months—years—of covert flirting and casual chat during endless social functions they’d been thrown into, she could sense it. She could sense it every time the topic of conversation turned to his family. And she could sense it after three clandestine moments when they’d shared fevered kisses and whispers of hot passion.
She knew it now.
In one of Gabriela’s rare moments of insight, her sister had likened Alex Rush to a dormant volcano—beautiful and calm on the outside, but inside a raging mass of hot, bubbling conflict.
Take care of him, Yelena. He’s one of the good guys.
Yelena glared at her cup. Damn it. She’d been trying to erase Gabriela’s gentle command from her memory, just as she’d been forcing herself not to think about Alex and all the complexities that made him tick. But she was involved again—and it didn’t only include him now.
With sudden inspiration, Yelena placed her spoon on her saucer and leaned forward. “I tell you what, Chelsea. I know a few people in Sydney—if you’re interested, I can get us front-row tickets to David Jones’s fashion show next month.”
Chelsea’s rounded eyes snapped up to hers. “Really?”
When she glanced over at Pam, Yelena quickly added, “Of course, your mum would have to approve.”
“Mum? Please? Please, please, pleeeeeease?”
But it was Alex who butted in with, “What about your training? And school?”
The spark of defiance in the teenager’s eyes was hard to miss. “What about it?”
Pam began awkwardly, “I thought you were focusing on the Perth trials next year?”
Chelsea glared at the tabletop, muttering something under her breath.
“What?” Alex said with a frown.
“I said, ‘I doubt I’d get in, anyway.’”
“So you want to just drop it? Is—” Alex paused then leaned forward in his chair, irritation evident “—is that what you want? After you’ve spent so much time and effort on training?”
Chelsea’s expression turned sullen. “Why don’t you start yelling about how you’ve spent thousands on my tennis career? Then you’d really sound like Dad.”
If Chelsea had picked up her soda spoon and stabbed him with it, Alex couldn’t have looked more hurt.
“Sweetheart…” Pam said slowly before Chelsea cut her off with a venomous look.
Wow. Anger like that didn’t come from just a little family disagreement. Fascinated yet discomfited, Yelena watched the scenario play out before her, unable to look away.
“If you want something that badly—” Pam began.
Chelsea leaped to her feet, face flushed. “Don’t you dare quote Dad to me, not now, not after—”
“Chelsea!” Alex said roughly.
She scowled at him. “And you shouldn’t be defending him! This whole thing sucks! Everything sucks!”
And with that, she stormed across the café and out the glass doors.
Alex scraped his chair back but Pam put a hand on his arm, shaking her head. He sat, his face turbulent, as an awkward silence fell.
Yelena looked over to Pam, who was making short work of the napkin in her lap, eyes staring at her half-empty coffee. And Alex, well, that gaze would end up burning a hole in the table pretty soon.
“You know what?” Yelena said firmly, turning to Pam. “I’d love to see your greenhouse if you have the time.”
The older woman glanced up, blinking rapidly. “Now?”
“Black thumb?”
“They always end up withering away, despite my best efforts.”
Pam’s shaky smile told Yelena she was grateful for the attention shift, yet Alex’s expression remained closed.
Yelena stood and casually linked her arm through the older woman’s. But then, suddenly, she paused with a confused blink. Had Pamela Rush flinched? Her eyes sought Pam’s but their crystal-blue depths reflected nothing but gentle politeness.
She shook herself, dismissing the moment.
“I’ll see you for dinner, darling?” Pam said, glancing back to Alex.
Yelena didn’t want to look at him but she managed to force her gaze to where he still sat, silent and thoughtful.
When he looked first at his mother, then her, she could see the wheels of his mind working overtime. With one raised eyebrow, she met his eyes steadily.
He glanced back to Pam. “I’ll probably be working. I’ll let you know.” Slowly he added, “What about Chelsea?”
Pam shook her head. “She’s been angry for the last two weeks. I’ve been giving her some space, so please don’t chase her down. She needs to—” she paused, as if rethinking the words “—figure out who she is and what she wants. You know what it’s like at that age.”
“Yeah.”
Yelena couldn’t fail to notice Alex’s parting scowl, dark with something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It lingered in her mind long after Pam led her from the café, across the foyer and towards the private suites.
Alex was neck-deep in numbers with only half his mind on the task when Yelena breezed into his office an hour later. “You have to tell your mother.”
He slowly placed his Montblanc pen on the sheaf of notes and leaned back. The leather chair gently groaned in protest.
“What have you said to her?”
“Nothing.” She put her hands on her hips, obviously unaware how that emphasized the generous flare of her curves. “But I’ve never worked on a campaign that didn’t have the full support of the client.”