Yours to Keep

by Diana Fraser

  “Maybe he lives there.”

  “No. I’d have noticed. Believe me.”

  Amber felt her heart twist into a soggy knot. “Scorching maybe, but he doesn’t seem to be scorching for me. He hardly looks at me.”

  “He must like you, otherwise he wouldn’t have asked you out.”

  “I guess,” she said doubtfully.

  “You really like this guy?”

  “Yes, I really like this guy. He’s gorgeous and cute and funny. Although, to be honest, I’m not so sure he means to be funny, but he is. He’s a darling.”

  Flo snorted. “‘Darling’ isn’t the word I’d have used to describe him, but then, hey, what do I know? I stuffed up the only meaningful relationship I’ve ever had.”

  Amber glanced at her friend, whose face had dropped once more. “You didn’t stuff it up, my stupid brother did.”

  She flung her arm around Flo and they walked back through the beautiful gardens on which Flo lavished all the energy and love that she’d once reserved for Amber’s brother, Rob.

  “What you need to do, Amber, is to wow this guy when you go out so that he has no chance of walking away.”

  “Wow him? Hm, I’m not sure I can do that.”

  “Where is it you’re going to dinner?”

  “St Augustine’s.”

  “Oh! That’s not your usual stamping ground.”

  “I know. I’ve no idea what to wear. But Rachel will. She’s been there loads.”

  “Oh, Amber! You’re not Rachel! Wear your usual clothes; don’t try to be someone you’re not!”

  “But that someone is what gorgeous David wants!”

  “Well, let him find that someone elsewhere.”

  Amber shrugged. “It’s just ‘dressing up’ like we used to do when we were kids. And it just might make him see me in a different way.”

  “Honey.” Flo stopped outside the open French windows and took hold of Amber’s hands. “You’re you, and you’ll always be you, so why pretend to be anyone different?”

  Before Amber could answer, Flo was called back into the house and Amber was left alone. Her gaze drifted back in the general direction of where she’d seen David disappear into a house in which she was sure he didn’t live. Where had he gone? Why all the mystery? And why did he ask her out if he wasn’t attracted to her? She sighed. Flo was wrong. Nothing wrong in a bit of dress up.

  3

  Amber had spent the afternoon on the phone spreading the news that Green Eyes—she really would have to try to stop herself from calling him that—had asked her out, and trying to find a dress which would allow her to fit into St Augustine’s. Flo had told her not to worry, that she should be true to herself and wear the orange floaty number with the purple fringe. But she’d managed to contact her big sister Rachel overseas and she’d come to the rescue by offering one of her dresses, obviously under the misapprehension that Amber was leaving behind her hippy phase. Amber didn’t have the heart to correct her beautiful sister.

  The remaining hours before David came to pick her up were spent altering said dress to make it fit. Rachel was curvier than Amber but Rachel had given Amber permission to do whatever she wanted with it. So Amber attacked it with her mother’s pinking shears and the sewing machine.

  “And I don’t know why he’s waiting until eight to pick you up. A bit late, if you ask me,” said Jim, flicking on the outside lights and peering through the curtains of the unlit drawing room.

  “Pop! What are you doing?”

  “Being prepared,” he murmured. “Like a good boy scout.”

  “You’re a bit old to be a boy scout,” she mumbled as she adjusted the straps of her dress and smoothed the wrinkled seam across her hips. It wasn’t haute couture but it was the only thing she had suitable for St Augustine’s. Not that she’d ever been there, but Rachel had told her what to expect—glamor. She caught her anxious expression in the mirror. She didn’t do glamor, but she’d give it a go. For tonight, at least.

  “Amber!” called Jim from the hall where he stood in darkness. “He’s coming. I’m sure I heard his car.”

  Amber padded down the hall in her bare feet, flicked on the light and went into the drawing room. She sat on the couch and pulled on her shoes. “Don’t sound so alarmed, Pop.”

  “I just want you to be ready.” He came into the room and his face fell. “You’re not even ready yet!”

  “I am nearly. What’s the panic, anyway?”

  Jim pointed in the direction of the car whose lights briefly tracked around the uncurtained room. “That man… he’ll be here any minute and he’ll expect you to be ready.”

  She stood up, gingerly testing her walk in the high heels which Rachel had insisted she wear, and did a double-take when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself. She frowned, plucked a tissue from a nearby box, and blotted her lips. She sighed at her reflection—too late now to do anything about it—and glanced at her father in the reflection. “That man has a name. David.”

  “Whatever, he’s coming, and you’re not ready.”

  “Well, lucky for me that I’m not as scared of him as you appear to be.”

  “Scared? I’m not…” Jim jumped as a car door slammed, ringing out like a gunshot in the crisp evening air. He met Amber’s glance in the mirror. “Okay, you got me. That man of yours is the scariest bloke I’ve ever met. I thought your big brother Max was macho enough, but this one”—he blew out his cheeks—“sure takes the cake. He’s terrifying. He’s the sort you see in films who’ll step in front of a gun and kill his enemy before they can draw breath.”

  “Pop! Don’t be silly. The only thing David kills are business deals… He’s into finance, accounting or property or something.” She frowned. “Something like that.” She sprayed on a little perfume.

  “Well, he’s certainly not like your usual type.”

  “What do you mean? I don’t have a type.” She did, but she wasn’t in the mood to agree.

  “Yes, you do. Dreamy chaps, usually with no jobs, and a penchant for poetry. Dudes, beach bums, call them what you will.”

  Amber cocked her head in the mirror just as there was a knock on the door. She turned and smiled brightly at her father, who’d instinctively backed away from the door. “Well, this dude is a serious dude. I’d have thought you’d have liked that.”

  “I’d like it if you went to the door.”

  “Okay, okay.” She picked up her antique evening bag, its sequins showering multi-colored light across the room, and gave her dad a kiss, smudging her cherry red lipstick from his cheek with her thumb. “Don’t wait up.”

  “I most certainly will. You be careful, young lady.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll check to make sure he hasn’t got a gun.”

  She shook her head at his suddenly alarmed expression. “Pop… I’m joking!”

  Her high heels clicked on the wooden floor as she approached the door. The outside light revealed David’s tall outline, and a gorgeous sensation of nerves and attraction skittered and fluttered in her belly. Not the kind of nerves her father had, but something far more earthy. As she opened the door and she met those intense eyes boring straight into her, speaking directly to her soul, the fizzing turned to an effervescent buzz which reassured her that the only danger she was in from this man was some damned good loving.

  “Good evening,” she said brightly, using the formality that David seemed to expect.

  “Amber,” he breathed, as she stepped out under the bright light. “You look beautiful.”

  She did a mental fist punch. The dress had worked! She’d expected a formal good evening, maybe an arm extended to aid her across the uneven lawn to the car. Instead she received a caress with his eyes and a lowered voice which wound its way sensuously inside her and tugged a little somewhere where it probably shouldn’t have, not with her dad watching, anyway. She glanced over her shoulder. Jim cleared his throat and stomped up the hall to them, holding onto the door handle for d
ear life. “Enjoy your evening.” He nodded uncomfortably. “Must be off now.” He flashed a brief, uncertain grin at David. “Things to do.”

  “See you later, Pop!”

  “Good night, sir… Jim.” David quickly corrected himself.

  Jim frowned and shook his head before closing the door on them.

  She shivered under David’s gaze and her silky wrap slithered from her shoulders and pooled onto the worn wood of the verandah. He picked it up and placed around her, his fingertips brushing her bare shoulders. She shivered again, and it had nothing to do with the soft rain which had begun to fall.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No.”

  He nodded slowly. “Good.”

  Amber had never felt so self-conscious in her life as they walked down the steps, she hurrying a little to keep up with his long stride. He opened the car door for her and she slid onto the leather seat. He closed the door and she inhaled again—leather, and some kind of expensive aftershave, the like of which she’d never come across before. She’d have to describe it to Rachel to identify it. Whatever it was, it made her mouth water. He got into the seat beside her and switched on the ignition. The motor purred into life and they bounced their way carefully across the drive.

  “Your father’s drive could do with leveling. I’ll get someone onto it on Monday.”

  “No,” she said, alarmed at the thought of how her dad would react. “No, thank you, but no. Pop wouldn’t want you to go to any bother for him.”

  “It’s no bother. I’ll have someone call him Monday morning and arrange a time.”

  She shrugged. She’d let Pop sort that one out.

  They pulled out from the bumpy drive onto the empty coast road and headed towards Akaroa, nestled darkly under the lowering cloud. Despite how fast David drove, he didn’t drive recklessly, but with the same intense concentration and focus he appeared to apply to everything in his life.

  “Tell me about yourself, Amber.”

  “Sure. What would you like to know?”

  “Everything.” He glanced at her with a warm smile and she gave a small inward sigh as she melted a little more. Their gazes tangled, and she looked away as the warmth rose and suffused her face. She fixed her gaze out the window, not sure if she could trust herself not to undo the seat belt and reach up and press her lips to his. She grinned as she realized she wasn’t sure which would surprise him most—the undoing of the seatbelt or the kiss.

  “Everything is a lot to cram into a half-hour drive.”

  “Okay, begin with things you like.”

  She smiled to herself as she remembered the rainbow which had emerged from the misty rain clouds over the harbor earlier that day. “I like rainbows very much.”

  “Rainbows?”

  “Yes, rainbows. You know, those things which stretch across the sky in colors which seem too impossible for nature.”

  “Yes, I know what a rainbow is. A spectrum of light caused by dispersion of light in water droplets. And, actually, the colors are entirely possible in nature.”

  She turned to him and saw a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You’re having me on! No one could look at a rainbow and think of science.”

  “I didn’t say I thought of science. Just that it has a scientific explanation. Anyway, I can imagine you and rainbows,” he said, as they slowed behind a small car. He checked the rearview mirror.

  “Don’t you like them?” she asked.

  He shrugged as he changed gear and overtook the car. He didn’t reply until he had returned to the correct side of the road and was speeding along a stretch of straight road. “They’re okay. Actually, they’re pretty much the bane of my life at the moment.”

  “How can rainbows be troublesome?”

  “They appear where they shouldn’t. Anyway, I don’t want to talk shop. I’d much rather hear about you. Tell me about what’s important to you.”

  “Ah, that’s easy. Family. I have a heap of brothers and sisters. You’ve met Gabe, one of my brothers.”

  “The one who shoots me dirty looks?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Ah, well, now I see why. He’s protecting you. That’s good. I like that.”

  “Do you?” It seemed a curious thing to say.

  “Yes. A brother should look out for his sister.”

  “Yes, well, I have four brothers looking out for me. Well, strictly speaking, only two, as two of them are overseas. Max lives in Queenstown and seems to think it’s also his role in life to keep an eye on me. Honestly, you’d think I’m twelve, not twenty-one.”

  She glanced across to find him studying her before he looked back at the road. “They love you and want to make sure you’re safe. It’s as simple as that.”

  His voice had gentled and he cleared his throat as if trying to rid the emotion which had crept into him.

  “It sounds as if you have a sister you care for.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly and the muscles around his mouth tightened. “Yes.”

  “Ah-ha! I thought so. I bet you make her life a nightmare.” She grinned but he didn’t.

  “I hope not. Tell me about your sisters.”

  She looked straight ahead at the road which twisted and turned its way around the harbor toward the exclusive restaurant, wondering why he didn’t elaborate.

  “Lizzi is the eldest, and then Rachel. Both now very happily married with children. You’ll probably see Rachel if you hang around Akaroa. She and her husband and children are due back from the US next week. She’s a TV star, you know.”

  “Oh.”

  “You don’t find that fascinating?”

  “What?”

  “The fact that she’s on TV—she’s a TV chef. Most people are intrigued. But you’re not?”

  “Not particularly. Although, if she’s anything like you, I’m sure I’ll like her.”

  “You like me?”

  All the tension from his mouth had gone now and he smiled and shifted his warm gaze onto her. “Yes, I like you, Amber. Otherwise I wouldn’t be taking you out to dinner.”

  “Good. Because, you know, I quite like you, too.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that.” The warm feeling left her.

  “How?”

  He flicked the car’s indicator and they turned into the entrance of the restaurant. He waited until he’d drawn up directly outside the grand portico entrance before switching off the engine and looking at her.

  “Because you flirt outrageously with me every time I see you, and I’ve noticed you don’t do it with other people. Besides, I don’t think you’d be able to hide your feelings from anyone.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What am I feeling now?”

  “You’re irritated because I can read you like a book.”

  She shot him a look of mock indignation. “You can only read what I allow you to read.”

  “All I can say is that I like what you allow me to read.” He ducked his head to look at the doorman who was walking over to them. He jumped out of the car and came around to her side and opened the door for her. She couldn’t ever remember anyone doing that for her.

  David tossed the car keys to the doorman who slid into the car and drove it away to park.

  “I’ve only ever seen that done in films before,” she said, slipping her hand through his arm as they entered the restaurant.

  “Really?” he said, with the surprise of someone who was accustomed to people doing things for him. He shrugged. “It’s just easier.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Tremayne,” said the maître d’, who appeared from nowhere, all ingratiating smile and subservient body language. It made Amber uneasy. She had an urge to tell him to stop it. “Good to see you again.”

  “And you, Paul. This is Amber Connelly.”

  “Miss Connelly. Pleased to meet you. Are you a relative of Rachel Connelly?”

  “Yes, she’s my sister.”

  “Ah.” He beamed broadly. “A very talented and beautiful lady. Please”—he ste
pped to one side and swept his arm in a flourish—“follow me.”

  They followed him through the restaurant to a more secluded corner which overlooked the harbor and the distant lights of Akaroa. The maître d’ pulled out a chair for Amber and continued to talk to David as Amber gazed out the window. From Akaroa, she’d often looked up at the twinkling restaurant lights high in the hills, but had never been tempted to go. It wasn’t her kind of place. But she was here now. She glanced across the table at David, who was frowning at the wine list. She suspected he did everything with extreme care and thoroughness. A shiver ran through her body as her imagination strayed.

  “Do you have a preference?” David asked.

  For a moment she couldn’t think what he was referring to.

  “Wine. Any type of wine you prefer?”

  “Yes, I mean no. I don’t often drink,” she added. “I mean I drink, preferably something that sparkles, but not alcohol, not when I’m out, anyway. Water, actually. Mostly water.” She was babbling. She knew she was, but she felt she might be disappointing this urbane, sophisticated and totally hot man by this admission.

  “Oh.” He closed the wine list decisively. For a moment she wondered if he was put off by her admission, that he’d suddenly realized what a hick hippy chick he’d landed himself with, but then he looked up at her and gave her that rare smile which melted her from the inside out. It wasn’t that it was a broad grin which revealed perfect teeth—although it was—it was that it was like a spark which lit up his whole face. “Then nor shall I.” She sighed under the delicious beam of his smile and he turned to the maître d’. “A bottle of your best sparkling water please.”

  In an effort to quell the blush which had been summoned by his smile, she looked around, trying to take her mind off his hair. It was cut short, tamed to within an inch of its life, and drew attention to his bone structure—classically proportioned, she thought with her artist’s eye, and strong. He had the kind of head sculptors made studies of.

  “See anyone you know?” he asked.

  She swung back to face him and shook her head. Not least because her mind had been filled with the beauty of his head, not the other diners. She looked around once more, taking in the expensive but minimalist decor and the expensive but not minimalist clientele. The women’s ears and necks glittered with exquisite jewelry, the men’s dark suits providing a perfect foil to the glamor of the women.