The Gem (D'Arth Book 4)

by Camille Oster

Shay frowned. "That's awful."

  "They guy's been charged for it."

  "Too right," Shay stated. It wasn't fair that Peter should have to deal with something that traumatic just because some guy was too stupid or tight to take a cab home. "I hope they put him away."

  "Wouldn't be for long, sadly. Are you hungry?"

  "I could eat in a bit."

  "Let's go for a wander down the promenade," Peter suggested.

  Shay rose and peeled the beach shirt off the back of her thighs. She hadn't really dressed for company when she got up that morning. In fact, she'd had no idea she would be finishing the evening in Peter's company. Jess' words reverberated through her head. She could just do this—have a fling. People did it all the time and she wasn't a prude or anything. It was just a fling—a natural part of a beach holiday. She couldn't help but to blush.

  "My, Miss McPherson, you have legs," Peter said appreciatively.

  "As most people do." Again she blushed. She really needed to get that reaction under control.

  They slowly walked down the promenade, the warm breeze blowing around her legs as she walked. He hadn't seen her this informally dressed before either.

  "What's the water like?"

  "It's lovely. You can be in for hours."

  "I haven't really done beach holidays a great deal."

  "You've been missing out. Where do you go?"

  Peter shrugged. "I suppose I don't actually go on holiday much at all. I travel for work, but it isn't something you particularly enjoy. The odd dirty weekend in Paris."

  "Paris, huh?" she said. "Never been to Paris."

  "I'll take you if you like."

  "On a dirty weekend?"

  "Admittedly, you wouldn’t end up seeing much of Paris. Probably none actually," he smiled.

  "Then what's the point?" Shay teased.

  Peter turned to her. "Just two people, getting to know each other. Away from everything, no responsibilities."

  "What responsibilities do you have? You don't even have a house plant to take care of."

  "And probably a good thing. I travel too much to take care of something."

  "Ooh, is that you're way of saying you're too busy for a serious relationship? Can't even commit to a house plant." Shay recognised the set up and called him on it. He was managing her expectations. He needn't worry—she had none. Shay smiled. "Don't worry, Peter. I know exactly what you are."

  "And what's that?"

  "Shallow."

  "Ouch, you wound me."

  "Superficial. Status conscious. Underhanded."

  "Don't forget hot. I've heard you mention it before."

  "Vain."

  "And yet I know you like me," he said.

  "How do you know?" Shay said. "It wouldn't be a stretch to think you're the most pointless guy in the world."

  "Because you blush every time I look at you."

  "Yeah, well, maybe that says more about me having serious problems than you. You," Shay said, placing her finger on his shirt, "are probably beyond hope."

  "Probably," he repeated. "You're not quite certain though. Maybe those deep wounds that make me what I am can be healed with the right attention."

  "Oh, a minute ago you were warning me away, now you're trying to get me to think of you as some wounded puppy dog. There is a certain inconsistency in your character."

  "I just don't know my own mind. And yet, you still like me."

  "Uh huh," Shay said, unconvinced. He was right though. She knew him for what he was and she couldn't dislike him for it—maybe because he was so honest about it. Except when he tried to suggest that she could 'heal his wounds'—because she wasn't stupid. Peter was exactly what Peter wanted to be.

  "Turkish or Italian?"

  "Huh?"

  "What do you want to eat? We might have to seek sustenance if you're going to explore the full deviousness of my character."

  "Turkish."

  "Nice choice."

  Peter led the way to one of the restaurants that had cane tables and chairs right on the sand. The restaurants were starting to fill up with diners. Time had gotten on without Shay really noticing. She wondered where Jess was, but suspected Jess had gone to ground for the night.

  Shay followed him to a seat and the sand was cool under her feet, having been protected from the sun all day.

  "So what have you been doing with yourself other than holidaying on distant shores?"

  Shay shrugged. "Got another assignment lined up."

  "Yeah?"

  "In a clinic. So all sorted on the work front for a while. We'll probably travel more. It is part of the reason why we're here."

  "The Overseas Experience."

  "I take it you never did one."

  "No. Too busy working."

  "Have you always been in advertising?"

  "I have."

  "How come advertising? How come you're not one of the finance boys?"

  "It was an option, but I enjoy the more creative side of advertising. Finance had no flair in that sense. I'm not a creative by any stretch, but I get a feel for what will get the client all hot and bothered. First, I chased small clients, then big clients. The excitement of winning drove me relentlessly—always seeking to get better, win bigger accounts."

  Something about his tone made her feel that something was off. "But?"

  Peter stared out of sea for a while. "I do better when there is something to strive for, and I've gotten to the point where I've achieved everything I set out to do."

  "The winner's dilemma," Shay said. "What's left after you win?"

  "Something like that."

  "They say keeping a position is harder than achieving it."

  "Probably not as true in advertising. Once you're in the club, membership tends to persist, even if the quality of the delivery wavers."

  "Maybe you need to try something new. Switch industries or start your own."

  Peter's head nodded slightly. These were obviously things he'd considered. "In a few years, I could start my own." Shay could tell that the burning ambition for starting his own company wasn't what motivated him.

  "Or you could just chuck it all in and live in some hippy community."

  "And I'm not sure I could think of a worse form of hell."

  "That's a bit strong. I'm sure you would love raising your own chickens and stuff." Shay was outright teasing him. She could just picture Peter standing in his suit, looking around in utter distaste at some tree-hugger's caravan. "Everyone has an inner greenie somewhere in them."

  "No, they really don't."

  Their food came. It smelled delicious—fragrant and warm. Shay had ordered a shish kebab on rice and this was on a whole different level from the post club snack they did back in London. The meat melted in her mouth, tasting sweet and spicy, exotic and seductive. "This is so good."

  "It is," Peter agreed.

  Looking up, Shay considered him as he ate. This accident really had knocked him, bringing out some of the fractures in his life. He would come right, once he started getting back into the swing of his life. It wasn't inconceivable that he felt a little disconnected right now. As she'd said before: it was a big deal what he'd gone through. She supposed for being so stunted emotionally, he was dealing with it quite well.

  Taking another bite, Shay returned her attention to the food. It was like a mini holiday simply in a bite, but there was more on the plate than she could finish. It tasted so good, she wanted more, but she had to stop or she was going to be really uncomfortable after.

  "What was Istanbul like? Is it worth seeing?"

  "Yes. It is a city, so a large part of it is everyday life, but it is also unique."

  "There is so much I want to see."

  "Like what?"

  "I don't know. Rome, Vienna, Spain, Germany, Ireland, Scandinavia. Where do I start?"

  "Paris?"

  "Of course," she said, forcing herself to place her fork down on the table. Peter raised an eyebrow in challenge. "But I'm not going on
some dirty weekend. I actually want to see it—everything. The Louvre, Versailles, the river, Notre Dame, everything." Peter made a face. "How can you not want to see it?"

  "I grew up here. I've been to Paris more times than I can remember. I hardly want to stand in line for hours with every tourist on the planet so see some crusty, old paintings."

  "Philistine," Shay accused. "And spending your time sleeping with some random girl is better?"

  "What is better than exploring another person?"

  "Boring."

  "Sex is never boring. You've obviously never been thoroughly explored by someone who knows what they're doing."

  "A bit of a connoisseur, are you?"

  "An art I seek to excel at."

  Leaning back in her chair, with her wine in her hand, Shay only shook her head, watching him as he finished his meal. "What about love?"

  "Love what you do."

  She knew this conversation would lead nowhere. They'd had this discussion before, besides, the dessert was there—some kind of creamy thing in a glass. Grabbing a spoon, Shay tried it. It was silky and sweet, tasting of pistachios and honey, and some other flavour she couldn't identify. It coated on her mouth, releasing a burst of flavour. It was utterly divine.

  Suddenly, Shay started to feel a bit drunk, not like fall-over drunk, and perhaps not entirely related to alcohol, just very relaxed like there was no hurry in the world. She took another sip of her wine, letting it clear the sweetness from her mouth. Sitting back, she watched Peter, who was watching her back. She couldn't help feeling a flutter of excitement steal through her, like plunging over a rollercoaster peak. There was no denying that she was curious about how this evening would progress.

  She didn't have the same issues around professionalism that she had before. The issue of her assignment was officially closed and there was nothing left of their relationship as patient and nurse. Now, there was the excitement of being Peter's target and the focus of all his attention.

  Sighing deeply, Shay considered what the evening would bring and excitement bubbled in her belly. She just had to let it all go in the morning.

  Chapter 20

  * * *

  After dinner, they walked the promenade again, finding a bar with strange, large sunbeds that took two people. Peter led her to one. "I think an drink is in order. What do you feel like?"

  "Uh … " Shay said as Peter sat down on one of the big beds, moving over to make room for her. She wondered if she should hesitate, but she really didn't feel like it. The kiss they'd shared, or more correctly that he'd stolen, still lingered in her mind. For days it had made her stomach flutter whenever she thought of it, her mind teasing her with what could have been. She couldn't deny that she was deeply attracted to him, more so now that she could actually give herself permission to be—even if it couldn't be anything more. And she suspected they were both happy with that.

  Sitting down, she slid over, bringing her legs up next to his on the large, white cushion over the wooden, curving structure underneath. Above their heads were coloured lights and then stars above that. She hadn't really noticed the sun disappear, having been too distracted by her companion. He looked so good lying there. His legs were so much thicker than hers and perfectly formed, showed off by the light-coloured linen pants.

  "It could be worse than lying under the stars," he said, looking up. Shay's eyes couldn't seem to tear themselves away from him.

  "You must have been a heartbreaker at school."

  "I went to an all-boys school, so the opportunities for breaking hearts were low."

  "And you've tried to make up for it ever since."

  "I suppose I have had my share of crimes, but I don't think that would surprise either of us. A more interesting discussion would be the ones you had committed."

  "I had a boyfriend at university."

  "The one that cheated on you."

  "I never said he cheated on me."

  "You didn't have to."

  "Oh, that's right; you're the one that believes that a monogamous relationship isn't possible."

  "I just don't promote putting yourself into a position where you expect it. More often than not, you will be disappointed. This might surprise you, but I actually do believe that some people want to be together, but I don't believe in pushing for it if it isn't there."

  "So what? You're holding out for Miss Right?"

  "Pfft," Peter said dismissively. "I am perfectly happy with Miss Right Now."

  Shay blushed. He'd made no secret that she was that for him right now. He'd travelled across Europe to come hang out with her. "And what are you looking for with Miss Right Now?"

  Smiling, Peter looked over at her. "I don't know. How about sitting on a beach, enjoying the moment—enjoying each other." The drinks came. Peter took his and placed it down on the table next to the bed thingy they were lying on. "Admit it: this is the perfect evening. How can anything be better than this? There is everything to look forward to. Anticipation is heavy and all I can think about it kissing you."

  Colour flared up Shay's cheeks. Dammit, she wasn't a prude or some innocent; she had to stop blushing at everything. Looking away, she tried to get control of herself. There was a dance floor not far away and scantily clad bodies were gyrating to the heavy base music. Suddenly, she felt underdressed. She was still in her beach clothes, not having had a chance to change into an outfit for an evening out.

  He was right though. This was the perfect evening and she was going to remember it for the rest of her life, no matter what was to come, and she suspected she would never regret it either. Feeling her stomach clench in tension, she turned back to him. "Then do it."

  He didn't need any further encouragement, reaching over and drawing her head to his, seeking her lips. He drew her into a soft kiss she could only describe as luscious. It wasn't demanding, just soft as if exploring at leisure. It felt like a sharp shift of perception and pleasure bubbled up through her. His lips were perfect. Just the right amount of pressure, leaving Shay feeling stunned when he pulled away, wanting more. "See," he said, "what could be better than this?" He wasn't going to get any argument from her.

  Taking a sip of her drink, she tried to get her senses under control and again be part of the scene surrounding her. She wasn't sure what she was drinking, but it had something tart in it. Just what she needed at the moment.

  His fingers gently stroked along her hand, teasing her skin ever so slightly. She needed a distraction. "So what's going on at work?" she said, clearing her throat.

  "Shanghai," he said. "It's the new battle ground and we are trying to get our share of the action."

  "Are you moving to Shanghai?"

  "No, but I will be spending a bit of time there."

  "What's it like?"

  "It's …" he started. "It's hard to describe. Busy. The Chinese are building their world so quickly it changes almost from day to day. Not long ago, advertising was completely unheard off, but the Chinese are not content with being left behind in anything and they are catching up quickly. Before long, they will surpass what they take from others and start creating their own ways."

  "Another place I'd like to go."

  "So are you going to see all these places you want to see?"

  "Yes."

  "You might just meet some guy and spend all your weekends on a couch."

  "There are no rules against travelling as a couple, you know."

  "But chances are you won't."

  "Along the lines of your fat and happy theory?"

  "Seen it happen. Ambition goes. Best laid plans permanently put on hold."

  "Perhaps you're right, Peter. Maybe people meet their partner and everything else loses importance. What does it say though that these people prefer fat and happy? It's obviously worth it to them. There's obviously a payoff, if they'd give up their plans for it."

  "They would for heroin as well. Come on, you can't say that sitting on the couch with you boyfriend can beat this," he said, indicating to th
eir surroundings. It was hard to argue it when he put it that way. She had done an inordinate amount of couch sitting with her boyfriend at Uni—although that could have been largely because they were completely broke most of the time.

  "I will concede that you might have a slight bit of point. I would rather see Shanghai than sit on a couch. But then, the only point of seeing Shanghai again would be to show someone. Once I've seen everything I want to see, then maybe I'd be fine with a bit of couch sitting."

  "And the next minute, you're dropping off kids at the school gate, booking dentist appointments and throwing lame dinner parties for people you don't really like."

  "There's only so many times I want to see Shanghai."

  "Although Shanghai changes every time you go."

  "Beside the point." The cocktail was going to her head a little bit. She really was enjoying the debate they had going on. Their opposing views to life had always been a source for discussion for them. "Did you buy a car, by the way?"

  "The Audi."

  "The Audi," she repeated. "The understated choice. Now that is an interesting option for you. I would have thought you'd pick the flashy one, what was it called?"

  "The Aston Martin."

  "My, Peter, are you mellowing?"

  "Shut up. It has excellent safety features and that, for some reason, has become increasingly important to me of late."

  "You're just one step away from a Volvo."

  Peter gave a surprised chuckle. "That really was a step too far. You are just trying to pick a fight now."

  Shay smiled. It was true; she liked goading him.

  "Come on, get up."

  "What now?"

  "We're going for a little walk. That drink is going to your head. Let's see what else there is to see down this beach."

  Grabbing her hand, he pulled her up. Electricity flowed up her arm from the touch and her knees felt weak for a moment, but that could be the alcohol.

  Slowly walking down the promenade, they saw every form of European tourists seeking entertainment. There were lights along the whole promenade and it sparkled brightly, making it seem like there was nothing else there except that strip of nightlife along the edge of the beach.

  They found an ice cream cart. "Want one?" he asked.