Yours to Keep

by Diana Fraser

  “Nope. Not a soul. It’s weird. I’m not used to being with strangers. Wherever I go I usually know someone. To be honest, I always make sure wherever I go I have people I know with me.”

  “Really? Why is that?”

  She’d said too much, as usual. She didn’t want to go there—not yet, anyway. She gave an ambiguous shrug. “Oh, you know… Anyway, what about you? Know anyone here?”

  He didn’t shift his gaze. “Not that I’ve noticed. I prefer to go where I don’t know people.”

  “That’s probably because you haven’t lived long in one place.”

  “No, it’s more to do with the fact that I’m not keen on people.”

  She opened her eyes wide. “You’re not keen on people?” She shook her head in disbelief. “What does that mean?”

  One side of his mouth hitched up in a brief grin. “I prefer my own company. Usually,” he added, in response to her expression. “But, obviously, I want to be with you tonight. Now. Just the two of us.” He looked up in relief as the maître d’ brought over the sparkling water and poured them both a glass. Amber couldn’t help be flattered that David sounded a little nervous, too.

  She smiled her thanks at the maître d’, who silently vanished into the shadows, leaving them in an intimate space—just themselves and the shadowy view of the purple-hazed hills and jewel-like lights sprinkled over them.

  “So how come you’ve managed to avoid people?”

  His brow furrowed in a delicious uncertainty which made him look boyish. “I’m with people all the time, but I do what I have to do and then move on.”

  “Wow, that sounds kind of clinical.”

  He shrugged. “I suppose it is. But I don’t wish to have a relationship with every person I see. That would be ludicrous.”

  “Then I guess I’m ludicrous, because that’s exactly what I want.”

  “You’re not ludicrous in the least. Not in the least,” he repeated.

  She narrowed her eyes in playful challenge. “Are you repeating that to try to convince yourself?”

  “No. We’re different people, you and I, Amber, and I like you all the more because of it.”

  She sat back in her chair in surprise. “Oh! That’s lovely. And unusual. Most people don’t like what they don’t understand.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t understand you, because I think I do. I’m just not like you.”

  “So I’m easy to understand, am I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, so are you. I bet I can guess what you’re thinking now.”

  “And what’s that?”

  She surveyed his face. His eyes warmed with interest as he sat back and surveyed her right back. He wore a tie but his tanned neck was strong and was asking to be kissed. Goodness, she wanted to leap right across the table and taste his neck. She knew what he’d smell like—all male and clean and delicious. She swallowed and his eyes darkened and narrowed slightly.

  She cleared her throat and smiled up at the waiter who topped up her glass. “Same as me, I do believe.”

  “Then”—he nodded to the waiter—“I think we’re both in for a good night.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” she said, feeling dangerously flirtatious. The glasses clinked as the waiters appeared laden with dishes. “But I haven’t ordered.”

  “I’ve already ordered. I spoke to the chef last night and gave him instructions to offer the best vegan menu he could create. I hope you don’t mind?”

  She should mind, but she found herself shaking her head. She was always in control of every aspect of her life but now, with those green eyes—which she could now see were shot with threads of gray and amber—fixing her with their direct gaze, she suddenly found she didn’t mind in the least.

  * * *

  David Tremayne sat back in his chair, feeling more relaxed than he’d felt in a long time. He couldn’t take his eyes off Amber—her red hair had worked its way out of the comb, which had held it loosely when he’d first picked her up. It framed her face like a halo of orange, making her blue eyes brighter. They always sparkled—it was the first thing he noticed about her—but now they positively glowed. And her lips—the way the crimson lipstick smeared a little from being over-enthusiastic with a napkin. It was all he could do to stop himself from leaning over and wiping it away with his finger, or, even better, his lips. He topped up her sparkling water.

  This wasn’t going at all in the way he’d intended. Get to know the enemy—seduce them, or her, if necessary—and then eliminate the opposition. No adverse publicity, only a woman to let down gently after it was all done and dusted. That had been his reason for checking her out at the café, and for asking her out. He had to admit that, after that first time when he’d seen her in the street, and he’d felt a bolt of lightning attraction between them, it hadn’t been hard for him to carry out his plan. After all, it would be the best, least headline-grabbing, way of securing the future of his new project. But he hadn’t banked on this at all.

  He forced himself to concentrate on what she was saying. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy listening to her. She made him laugh, which was more than could be said of most people. And her worldview was so different to his as to be refreshing. Being with Amber made him forget about things, made him more optimistic about the future. That people could live in the world and be so innocent of bad things awoke in him something he thought had died—his own innocence.

  But now, as the evening had progressed, listening to her had taken a back seat to admiring her. His attraction to her had been instant, some kind of physical magnetism which he’d heard about but would never have believed existed if he hadn’t experienced it himself.

  Then, when he’d seen her earlier in the week on the bench seat overlooking the sea between two people with disabilities, chatting away, making them laugh while, at the same time, helping them eat the chocolate brownies she’d brought out to them from the café, he’d felt something clunk inside of him. Literally. Like something falling into place. And it hadn’t moved since. But it had become a part of him wherever he went. Even in meetings he’d be aware of a part of Amber in his thoughts, he’d wonder what she was doing, what her views would be of the people who were presenting to him. She was like a virus… but in a good way. But it wouldn’t last and then his life would be back to normal. Except better, because he’d have quietly eliminated all opposition to his new business venture.

  He sighed quietly to himself as he drank in her eyes, her oval face and her finely drawn lips which, he noticed in surprise, weren’t moving. He looked up, alarmed, into her eyes once more. One fair eyebrow was raised and laughter sparkled in her eyes.

  “Have you been listening to a thing I’ve been saying, Mr. Tremayne?”

  Before he could answer he felt a warm possessive hand clamp on his shoulder. He turned to see an ex girlfriend—one from whom he’d had difficulty extricating himself—glaring at Amber.

  “David!” she said, turning that cool gaze on him. “What a surprise. Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

  He rose and kissed her proffered cheek. “Katherine,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Obviously.” Her gaze returned to Amber.

  “Katherine, I’d like to introduce you to Amber. Amber, this is Katherine Jones, an old friend.”

  Katherine raised one delicately plucked eyebrow at the epithet and extended her hand to Amber. “How lovely to meet David’s latest.”

  David winced at the inference. As if Amber was one of a long line; she was nothing like any that had come before, and there had been a lot of them.

  Amber rose and shook hands with Katherine. “Nice to meet you, Katherine.”

  David couldn’t help but compare Katherine’s lush curves clad in a figure-hugging black dress to the light that was Amber. Even their voices reinforced the difference. Katherine’s mid-Atlantic accent had a studied, sultry tone while Amber’s was true Kiwi and clear as a bell. He liked that. There was no pretense with
Amber. He looked back at Katherine, who forced a smile as she looked from Amber to David. She let Amber’s hand slip as if sensing an opposing force, and one stronger than her own.

  “Anyway,” Katherine fixed her smile on her face. “I’ll leave you to your little tête-à-tête.” She turned and inclined herself to him, revealing a cleavage which he had to admit was impressive. “See you around, David.” She kissed her finger and placed it on his lips in an embarrassing display of intimacy.

  She walked away, and he turned back to Amber in time to see her eyes widen in confusion.

  “Everything all right, Amber?”

  Her mouth twitched as if trying to summon a smile which refused to surface. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Because you’ve been silent for the first time all night.”

  “Oh, yes, that.” She shrugged and sighed and pushed her food to the side of her plate.

  “Isn’t the food to your liking? I’ll have them bring something else.” He raised his hand to attract the waiter.

  “No, the food’s wonderful. But I seem to have lost my appetite.”

  The waiter came over and cleared away the plates. David frowned and folded his arms on the table. “What’s the matter? Is it something I’ve said?”

  “No.”

  “Do you feel okay?”

  “I did until Katherine came over.”

  “Ah.” He sat back. “I see.”

  Amber folded arms on the table. “I’m not sure you do.”

  “You’re wondering about her and me. Whether there’s anything going on between us?”

  “No. I could see that there wasn’t. I might come across a bit scatty, but I’m not stupid, David.”

  “I didn’t for one moment think you were. Otherwise, I can assure you, I wouldn’t be here with you.”

  His remark appeared to annoy her even more. “Oh, so you usually check a girl’s IQ before you date her?”

  “I don’t need to. I can tell if she’s intelligent enough for me.”

  “I’m surprised anyone is.”

  “Frankly, so am I.” Her comments were beginning to rankle. She shot him an annoyed glance. “I’m sorry, I’m being a jerk. We seem to be going off track here. She’s simply a woman I once dated. It’s not something which should put you off your dinner.”

  “If you want to know what put me off my dinner, it was the way she flashed her breasts at you.”

  “Her breasts?” he repeated, buying time.

  “Yes. And don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

  “Well, of course I did. She makes sure everyone notices.”

  “And you date people like that?”

  “Yes, I can say that I’ve exclusively dated people with breasts.”

  “Oh,” huffed Amber. “This is getting silly. You know that’s not what I mean. I think I should leave now.”

  Panic filled him. He hadn’t secured her interest, let alone her support. “No! I mean, please don’t leave yet, Amber. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be flippant but the truth is that Katherine isn’t worth discussing. I’m here with you, not her, because I want to be with you, not her.”

  “Then I feel sorry for her because I don’t think it’s over for her.”

  And Amber looked so sorrowful that David almost felt guilty about not loving Katherine.

  “I don’t think Katherine would like that, and I don’t think she needs that. I think Katherine will be absolutely fine. In fact she already appears to have a new beau.” A very wealthy one if the cut of Katherine’s partner’s dinner jacket was anything to go by.

  Amber’s eyebrows narrowed as she leaned across the table. “David, you can tell me to mind my own business, but there’s something I’d really like to know.”

  “Ask away.”

  “Did you ever love her?”

  David grunted in amusement at Amber’s direct question. So many women would have prevaricated, created a situation when none existed but not his Amber. He was shocked for a moment at the possessive way his thoughts were going. Then he acknowledged it and realized he was fine with it.

  “No.”

  “No? That’s it?”

  “Yes, that’s it. I didn’t love her.”

  “But how long did it go on for and when did it finish?”

  “We were together for about a year, I think. And it finished about six months ago.”

  “Oh, so recently then. That would explain her attitude.”

  “Attitude?”

  “Yes. As if I was encroaching on her territory.”

  “I’m not territory.”

  “I think you are, to her, anyway.”

  “I can assure you it’s over. Our relationship was…” He hesitated. “Of a certain kind.” He didn’t want to bring up the subject of sex with Amber. Somehow it seemed too dirty to discuss with her the foundation upon which his relationship with Katherine was based.

  “You mean it was about sex.”

  “Sex,” he repeated, surprised again.

  “Yes. You know when two people make love.”

  He leaned in to Amber, not wanting anyone to overhear his part in the conversation at least. From the faces that had suddenly turned in their direction, he suspected that other diners were hearing Amber’s crystal clear voice, which never wavered, never changed according to its audience. “There was little ‘making love’ about it.”

  “Just sex then.”

  He glanced around at the amused glance of a nearby couple. “Amber!” He ran his finger around his collar which was feeling increasingly tight. “Could you keep your voice down?”

  “Why? Sex is nothing to be ashamed of.”

  He opened his mouth but could find nothing to say. She continued to surprise him.

  “I didn’t say I was ashamed of anything, it’s just that I prefer to keep some things private. Anyway,” he said, desperately trying to think of something to change the subject, “let’s talk about something else.”

  Amber glanced over to where Katherine was sitting, the picture of sexy sophistication. He wondered what he’d ever seen in Katherine. His eyes slipped to her figure and he suddenly remembered. But it hadn’t been enough.

  Amber sighed and tugged at her dress, the seams of which appeared strangely puckered. He made a mental note to introduce her to a Christchurch designer where the clothes would be made to fit her petite figure.

  “What would you like to talk about?” she asked.

  “You.” He replied without thinking because it was the absolute truth. “You,” he repeated with emphasis. “Tell me about your family.”

  His honesty was rewarded by a sweet smile which lit her face up once more. “Ah, love ’em, love ’em, love ’em.”

  He frowned. “What, all of them?”

  “Yes! My dad, all four brothers, two sisters, and nieces and nephew. Of course they’re all different, all weird in some ways, but wonderful ways. Weird or strange, I love them all.”

  He raised his eyebrows and then lowered them in consternation. “That’s a lot of love.”

  She looked puzzled. “Love isn’t finite; it’s not a limited thing. There’s plenty to go around.”

  He surprised himself by instinctively hoping that some might be coming his way. “So tell me about them.”

  “I’ll do better than that. Why don’t you come around at the weekend when everyone will be there and I can introduce you?”

  Alarm bells rang. He really could do without an audience to his seduction of the enemy. But then Katherine laughed a laugh designed to reach them, and Amber glanced towards her, frowning slightly as if suddenly unsure. Instinctively he wanted to wipe away that unsureness.

  “I’ll check my schedule and see if I’m free.” He knew he was, but wanted to buy time. “So tell me all there is to know about them, so I can be prepared.”

  She laughed. “No preparation required. It’s not a meeting, you know. There’s no agenda, no action points.”

  He heard laughter but this time he realized it was coming fr
om him. It felt good. “So you may think; you might just find minutes circulated after the event.”

  “Jeez, I hope not. I wouldn’t know what to do with them.”

  “Ignoring them is best. Now, I need to know, will all the men in your family be like Gabe and scowl at me? Will they look at me as if they want to castrate me?”

  She laughed. “Yes, probably. But don’t worry, us girls will look after you. There’s Lizzi who’s coming up from Shelter Springs, she runs a café there with her husband and has just had her second child… my nephew. And…”

  David sighed, and the breath held a mixture of bemusement at such a large family, irritation that he was forced to meet them, and something far more strange, something which he could only name as contentment as he listened to Amber describe her family.

  He was annoyed with Katherine for making Amber doubt herself. They were like opposite ends of the spectrum: Katherine all mind, using her body like a tool for her mind, and Amber all heart. He’d once thought he could do without heart. But since his sister’s accident he knew better.

  “You’re doing it again, David.”

  “What?” he asked, startled out of his reverie.

  “You’re not listening to me.”

  “Of course I am. I’ve been”—he hesitated, feeling uncharacteristically flummoxed, although he knew from experience that he wouldn’t show it—“listening to everything you’ve been saying. I haven’t missed a word.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” And he hadn’t. Years of negotiation where he’d had to pick up the subtext of a discussion had made him adept at both listening and observing. “Why would you think I wasn’t listening to you?”

  “Well, for starters, I very much doubt that the ins and outs of my world is of any interest to you.”

  He didn’t move or speak, stunned by how absolutely wrong she was. He hadn’t intended to find her interesting, hadn’t prepared for it in the least. Maybe that was where he’d gone wrong. He usually prepared for every eventuality. It was, he’d always considered, the secret to his success. But somehow everything she said and did found its place within him. The silence stretched but still he couldn’t find the words to reassure her without revealing his feelings. He wasn’t even sure what those feelings were, nor how to express them. So he stayed silent.