Читать книгу Her Sweet Surrender: The First Crush Is the Deepest - Нина Харрингтон - Страница 15

EIGHT

‘Shame on me? Shame. On me?’

Amber felt the heat burn at the back of her neck which had nothing to do with the Indian food and she crashed her hand down onto the table hard enough to make both Sam and the plates jump, and leant forwards towards him.

‘How dare you? How dare you tell me that I should be ashamed of the fact that my family love me and care what happens to me? No, I don’t always agree with what they tell me, but at least they make an effort to be part of my life. But you know all about that, don’t you? How are you getting on with your dad these days? And remind me of the last time you saw your mum?’

The words emerged in harsh outbursts which seemed to echo around her patio and reflect back from the stone-faced man sitting opposite. And she instantly regretted them.

It shocked her that Sam was capable of making her so spiteful and hard. She was one of the few people who knew how hard it had been for him when his mother abandoned her husband and son. But that didn’t mean that she had to throw his pain back in his face.

She was better than that. Or at least she was trying to be.

‘In fact I don’t know why I am even listening to you in the first place.’ She blinked and tossed her head back and calmly sipped her water. ‘You are hardly qualified to take the moral high ground. I certainly don’t need a lecture on making decisions from you, Sam. Understood?’

‘Perfectly.’ Sam nodded, then leant forward and rested his elbows on the table while his gaze locked onto her face. ‘Is your little tantrum over now, Miss DuBois? Because I would really like to get this so called interview over and done with as soon as possible. I have a real assignment waiting for me back at the paper, so can we move on, please?’

‘Absolutely,’ Amber replied, trying to calm her heart rate and appear to be more or less in control again. ‘But it does make me wonder. What are you really doing back here in London? Because whatever it is must be very important to persuade you to go through with this little game of charades.’

* * *

Sam tried to savour more of the delicious food as slowly as he could while his brain worked at lightning speed, trying to form an answer, but his appetite was gone and he pushed his meal away.

Amber had fired her arrow and hit her target right in the centre.

Strange how this girl was one of the few people alive who knew just what his emotional hot buttons were and was not afraid to press them down hard when she needed to.

Just as he had pressed hers.

That was the problem with working with people who understood you.

Touché Amber.

If this was a game, then it was one point to each of them.

Sam sat back in his chair and watched Amber as she turned away from him and looked out over the city, all joy in her food and apartment forgotten.

The warm sunlight played on her pale skin and delicate features. Up close and personal, she was even lovelier than the girl on the magazine cover. Her chest rose and fell and he could sense the emotional strain these last few minutes had cost her.

Strain he was responsible for.

Shame on him.

Amber DuBois was gunpowder and those few minutes they had just shared in the dressing room had proved just how explosive getting within touching distance could be.

Any ideas he might have had about staying distant and professional had just gone out of the window the instant his fingers touched her skin.

He might be over his teenage crush but this woman he was looking at now had the power to get under his skin and bother him.

Bother him so badly that suddenly it felt easier to keep his change of heart towards his father to himself. If she had a whiff that he was some sort of self-sacrificing martyr who desperately wanted to make it up to his dad for all those angry years, she would never let him forget it.

A few days. He could stay cool and professional for a few days for his dad’s sake.

His eyebrow lifted. ‘I told you. I need the promotion and the boss made it clear that I will only get that if I come back with an exclusive from, and I quote, “the lovely Miss DuBois”. That’s it, job done,’ and Sam went back to the food.

No way was he going to fall into Amber’s trap and start spouting on about how guilty he felt about leaving his dad all alone for years on end while he lived the high life in California. This was Amber he was talking to. She would be only too ready to believe that he was a heartless son who had only come back to London for the job and the status.

After what had just happened in the dressing room he intended to keep as far away from her as physically possible.

He had to keep up the pretence that he was still the self-absorbed young man who would let nothing come between him and his career. Which was not so far from the truth. Happy families were for other men. Not men like Sam Richards.

‘Job done. Right,’ Amber replied and picked up her water glass. ‘Come on, Sam. Out with it. From what I hear, you can get a job anywhere you like. Why here? Why now? And why do I suspect that there is a lovely lady involved in the answer?’

‘You think I came back to London for a woman? Oh, no. Sorry to burst your romantic bubble, but this was strictly business all the way.’

‘Um,’ Amber replied. ‘Pity. I could have given her a few tips. Such as run for the hills now, before he breaks your heart. That sort of thing. But not to worry, it will keep for another time.’

And she smiled sweetly at him over her water glass. ‘But do tuck into your lunch. You are going to need it for this afternoon’s opportunity to shine.’

‘More pictures?’

‘Yes, but that is for later when you deliver the paintings to Saskia and hang them up for her,’ Amber replied. ‘But in the meantime I have something which is much more suited to your...talents.’

She narrowed her eyes and rested her elbows on the table so that she could support her chin with one hand. ‘Did you bring your camera and tripod? I’ll take that nod as a yes. Super. My shoes really do need the right angle to look their best.’

Sam spluttered into his water glass. ‘Shoes? You want me to photograph your shoes?’ he asked in complete disbelief.

‘Eighteen pairs of designer loveliness.’ Amber sighed. ‘Worn once or not at all. Gorgeous but unloved. Kate wanted them but she has tiny feet so I am selling them on the Internet.’

‘You are selling your shoes.’ Sam snorted and tossed his head with a sigh. ‘Things must be desperate. Cash flow problems?’

Her tongue flicked out and she licked her lips once. And right there and then he knew that she was keeping something from him.

‘Don’t try and hide your enthusiasm. I knew that you would be excited by the opportunity. This is just part of the modern girl’s annual clearing out of last season’s couture so that she can buy new ones to take their place—and all the money goes to charity. Oh—and tomorrow gets even better. The lovely Saskia is trying to launch Elwood House as a private dining venue and her online presence is just not cutting it. She needs a professional writer to redesign the website and create a whole new photo gallery—and it has to be complete in time for my birthday party on Thursday.’

‘Is there any good news in all of this?’ he spluttered, while shovelling down more chickpeas and rice.

‘Of course. You have a front row seat at my birthday party, hobnobbing with the great and good of the London scene. Even if you are taking the photographs for Saskia’s website at the same time.’

Sam blew out slowly. ‘I am so grateful for your kind consideration. So that’s Saskia covered. Are you sure that Kate Lovat wouldn’t like me to stand in her shop window modelling a tartan dinner suit in my copious spare time?’

‘Hey, that’s not a bad idea. You might be able to fit it in after you have cleaned the spiders and mouse droppings out of her attic tomorrow. Oh. Didn’t I mention that? Silly me. And after you have sorted the ladies out, then you can pop back here. By then I should have sorted out my unwanted lingerie. I am sure you can come up with some suitable slogan like “as worn by Amber” when you put together the adverts for the Internet auction.’

Amber tilted her head to one side as he glared at her through slitted eyes.

And this was the girl he was thinking of asking to be his friend.

‘Not lingerie. Shoes I can understand. But I draw the line at photographing lingerie unless you intend to model it in person.’

‘But this is your audition, sweetie. Have you forgotten so quickly? Of course, if you are refusing to carry out my perfectly reasonable requests, well, I shall have to phone the journalist on the other paper and see if she is still interested... And no, my modelling days are over.’

She leant her chin on the back of one hand and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

‘You’re looking a little hot under the collar there, Mr Richards.’ Amber smiled. ‘How about some ice cream to cool you down? It’s delicious with humble pie.’

* * *

‘Well. What do you think? The emerald and diamond drop necklace or the sapphire white gold collar?’

Amber held one necklace then the other to her throat, slowly at first, then faster and then faster, using two fingers of her plastered wrist to prop them up against her skin.

‘Hey. Slow down, I’m still thinking about it.’

Kate sat back against Amber’s bed pillows in Saskia’s best spare bedroom and stretched both arms out above her head.

‘Decisions, decisions.’ Then she sniffed. ‘The sapphires. They are absolutely perfect with that dress. Although, if it was me, I would wear both and go totally overboard on the bling. Especially since you won’t be wearing either of them again.’

Amber smiled and dropped the emerald necklace, which had been a present from a fashion designer who had been trying to woo her into being their cover girl, back into the velvet tray. ‘True. But the way I look at it, some other girl has the chance to enjoy them and the charity gets the loot. The last thing I need is a load of expensive jewellery in a safety deposit box which has to be insured every year at huge expense. It makes sense to sell it back to the jewellers while it is still in pristine condition.’

Kate shuffled to the edge of the bed. ‘Don’t let the spy hear you say that. Can you imagine the headlines? “Injured pianist forced to sell her jewellery to make ends meet”.’ Then Kate pushed herself off the bed. ‘Here. Let me help with the earrings. I’m thinking some serious dangle and maximum sparkle and that is a tricky thing to pull off one-handed.’

She peered into the tray and pulled out a pair of chandelier diamond and sapphire drops. ‘Ah. Now we are talking...’ Then she took another look at the maker on the box and blew out hard. ‘Wow. Are these for real? My fingers are shaking. I never thought I would be holding anything from that jeweller. Oh, Amber.’

Amber reached up and wrapped one arm around Kate’s shoulders but, as her friend laughed and reached up to fit her earrings, she shook her head. ‘Not until you have tried them on first. Go on. I want to see you wear those earrings—and that necklace.’

‘What? My neck is too short and my ears are tiny. Nope. These are serious jewels for serious people. I’ll stick to my pearls, thanks all the same.’

‘Kate Lovat, I won’t take no for an answer. I know that my clothes and shoes are huge on you, so please, just this once, be nice and do what I ask. It is my birthday.’

Amber pushed her lips out and pretended to sulk.

‘Oh, stop it,’ Kate replied with a dramatic sigh. ‘You are ruining your make-up and it has taken me the best part of an hour to make it look natural. Okay, okay, I’ll try the jewellery on. But only because it’s your birthday, Look, I’m doing it. And... Oh, Amber.’

Kate stepped behind Amber and rested her head on her shoulder as Amber smiled back at her. ‘Absolutely gorgeous. Told ya. Right, that’s sorted. You’re wearing the jewels that Heath gave me. Done. Or do you want them to sit in the box up here in the bedroom unused and unloved because you have rejected them?’

Kate replied by reaching for a tissue. ‘Oh. Now look what you have made me do. Pest.’

Then Kate peered at herself in the mirror. ‘Do you think that Heath would like me in these?’

‘Pest right back. And he would definitely like you in those earrings,’ Amber replied and wrapped her arm around Kate’s waist. ‘Does Heath still hold the prize for the best emergency school party date a girl could hope for?’

Kate rested her head on Amber’s shoulder before answering with a small shrug. ‘Absolutely. Which must make me the stupidest girl in London. Here I am, surrounded by loads of handsome boys, and the only one who comes close to being my personal hero is living in Boston and doesn’t remember that I even exist unless you are around. Mad just about describes it.’

‘Oh, Kate. Don’t worry. You’ll find someone special, I know you will.’

Kate grinned and ran a tissue across the corner of both eyes. ‘Damn right. Who knows? My soulmate could be on his way to this very party this evening. How about that?’

‘Absolutely. Now shoo. I have to finish getting ready and you need to show your loveliness to all and sundry. Go. Have fun at the party. And Kate...make sure that Sam the spy takes your picture. You can’t miss him—he’ll be the one with the camera around his neck.’

‘You’ve got five minutes, young lady—then the posse will be up here to drag you downstairs.’

‘I would expect nothing less,’ Amber replied and waved to Kate as she waltzed across the carpet on her tiny dainty heels and the bedroom door swung closed behind her.

Only when she heard Kate’s sandals on the marble floor of the entrance did Amber feel it was safe to flop back down on her bed.

So her best friend Kate was still in crush with her stepbrother Heath. Oh, Kate. Maybe it was a good thing that Heath had already spoken to her from his lecture tour in South America and was not turning up for this party after all. He might have brought his lovely girlfriend Olivia with him. Not good. Not good at all.

Her wrist was aching, her head was thumping and she could quite easily pull the quilt over her legs right then and there and sleep for days. But she couldn’t. She might have organised her birthday party at the last minute, but she was still the star of the show—and she had to make her appearance.

Time to turn up and give the greatest performance of her life.

All smiles and confidence and clear about what she was doing and why. Exploring. Taking a break. Enjoying herself. Fund-raising for charity. What fun!

That was the official line and she was sticking to it. She could count the number of people who knew the truth on one hand—and that was how she wanted it to stay. Until she was ready. And then she would have to add Sam Richards to the list.

Sam.

What was she going to do about Sam?

Was he Sam the spy as Kate called him? Could she trust him again?

He had kept his side of the bargain and worked hard at every ridiculous task that the three of them had thrown at him over the past few days without much in the way of complaint.

He could never know that she had spent two nights tossing and turning in her bed as his words roiled in the pit of her stomach. She did listen to Heath—she always had and probably always would. He was her sensible older stepbrother. But these past two days, every time he had told her to do something rather than ask or suggest, she kept thinking about what Sam had said. Maybe she was still under his thumb more than she liked? Maybe he had a point.

Of course going back to Kerala would be scary. She would be a fool not to be worried. But she had made a vow in hospital that her life would be different from now. She wanted to see Parvita married and share her happiness.

She wanted to go back and yet it was so risky. Doubt rolled over Amber in waves, hard and choppy, buffeting and threatening to weaken her resolve.

Turning her life around was harder than she had expected.

The jewel tray was still open on the dressing table and Amber slithered off her bed and lifted out the top tray. Hidden inside a tiny suede pouch at the very bottom was a small gold heart suspended from a thin gold chain.

Sam had given it to her at her eighteenth birthday party, just before they had escaped out of the kitchen door and taken a ride in his dad’s vintage open top sports car.

Amber smiled as she let the chain slip between her fingers. Sam had let her stand up tall on the passenger seat with her arms outstretched to the sky as they rode through the London streets—the wind in her hair and the sound of their laughter and the hoots from passing motorists reverberating through every bone in her body.

She had been so very, very happy, and she should be grateful to Sam for showing her what true happiness felt like. It was a joyous memory.

The sound of party music drifted up the stairs and Amber grinned. She had survived meningitis more or less intact, she had friends waiting for her downstairs and more on their way.

She looked at herself in the mirror and, without another moment of hesitation, she winked at her reflection and dropped the gold chain back into the pouch and closed the lid down on the box with the rest of her past.

She was a lucky girl.

Time to rock and roll and enjoy herself.

* * *

Taking a deep calming breath, Sam Richards strolled across the luxurious marble-floored hallway of the Victorian splendour that was Elwood House.

He paused to check his reflection in the Venetian hall mirror above a long narrow console table, and lifted up his chin a little to adjust his black bow tie.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

For a chauffeur’s son from the wrong part of London.

At least this time he had been welcomed at the front door!

Which had certainly not been the case ten years ago when he had stood in the hallway of another house and another birthday celebration.

Amber might have invited him to her eighteenth birthday party but her mother had taken one look at him standing on her front doorstep, snorted and closed the door in his face. Just to make sure that he got the message loud and clear.

Sam Richards was not good enough for her daughter. Oh, no. Nowhere near.

Of course he wasn’t going to put up with that—he had plans for Amber’s birthday and there was no way that her mother was going to thwart his little scheme.

So he’d climbed over the garden fence and sneaked in through the conservatory where the young people were having fun.

Suddenly there was the tinkle of laughter from the kitchen and Sam grinned as he strolled into the warm, light, open space of the huge kitchen sun room that Saskia’s aunt Margot had built. Every worktop was covered with plates and bowls and platters of foodstuffs—but his attention was focused on the two women who were walking towards him.

Here come the girls.

Saskia’s arm was around Kate’s shoulder, which was not difficult, considering that Kate could just about make five feet four inches if she stretched. Although tonight she looked stunning in a dark green taffeta cocktail dress with real jewels. Saskia was in midnight-blue crushed velvet with a real pearl choker and gorgeous lilac kitten heels.

They were like dazzling stars transported from a catwalk fashion show into this London kitchen. English style and elegance. Not too much flesh on show, and all class.

Kate hissed at him, but Saskia nudged her with a glare and moved forward to shake his hand.

‘Hello, Sam. Nice to see you again. I appreciate your help with my website—it’s ten times better than I could have thought of on my own. We’re having a few drinks on the patio before the hordes of locusts arrive. Why don’t you come and join us?’

‘Perfect. Thanks. And I’m pleased I could help.’

‘You go ahead. One more thing to bring out of the oven,’ Saskia replied, and waved Kate and Sam onto the terrace.

The second they were out of sight of the kitchen, Kate grabbed Sam’s sleeve, whirled around and planted a hand on each hip as she stared up at him with squeezed narrow eyes.

‘I’m watching you, Sam Richards. If you step out of place tonight or do anything to spoil Amber’s evening I’ll be on to you like a shot.’

He raised both hands in surrender.

‘I came here to work. And help Amber have a good time along the way. Okay?’

Kate replied by jabbing her second and third fingers towards her eyes then stabbed them towards his face, then back to her eyes.

‘Watching you,’ she hissed, then broke into a wide-mouthed grin and popped one of Saskia’s mini tomato tarts into her mouth and groaned in pleasure as Saskia strolled up with the most delicious-smelling tray.

Kate raised her glass of white wine in a toast. ‘Fab. You always know exactly how to pull off the perfect party, Saskia. Always have.’

‘Hold that thought, gorgeous. Special order for the star of the show. Mini pizza. Extra anchovies. Okay?’

‘Did someone say mini pizza?’

Amber sidled up to Saskia and kissed her on the cheek before biting into the crisp pastry and nodding. ‘Delicious.’ Only then did she look across at Sam and smile. ‘Hello, Sam. What perfect timing.’

And she took his breath away.

Her long sensitive fingers were wrapped around the stem of a wine glass which Kate was topping up with sparkling tonic water rather than wine. A diamond bracelet sparkled at her wrist and flashed bright and dazzling as she moved in the sunlight.

But that was nothing compared to the crystal covered dress and jewelled collar she was wearing.

Sam dragged his eyes away from Amber’s cleavage before Kate noticed and stabbed him with the corkscrew.

Her earrings moved, sparkling and bright, and helped him to focus on her face. Stunning make-up showed her clear, smooth complexion to perfection, and her eyes glowed against the dark smudge of colour. Her lips were full, smooth. Her whole face was radiant.

Amber had never looked so beautiful or more magical.

This was the Amber he had always imagined that she would look when she was happy in her own skin—and she had exceeded his wildest imagination.

He had often wondered over the years if Amber had stayed the sweet, loving girl that he had fallen for, under the surface gloss and razzmatazz, and it only took a few seconds of seeing her now with her friends to realise that she had somehow managed to keep her integrity and old friendships alive.

Now that was something he could admire.

He would give a lot to be here as her date this evening. To know that those lovely violet-blue eyes were looking at him with love instead of tolerance.

He had walked away from a great love.

Maybe his only love. And certainly the only girl that he had ever truly wanted in his life.

Which made him more than a fool. It made him a stupid fool.

The best that he could do was try and capture this moment for ever. So that when they were back in their ordinary worlds on other continents he had something to remind him of just how much he had lost.

She was the star. And he was a reporter who was working for her.

Because that was what he was here for, wasn’t it? To work?

Not as one of the guests.

Oh, no.

The likes of Sam Richards did not come to these events as a guest. He was the one parking cars and taking the coats.

Strange to think that he had some standing on the A-list circuit in Los Angeles. But it took London to put him right back in his place.

As one of the help.

Pity that he had no intention whatsoever of fitting in with someone else’s idea of who and what he was. He was here because they needed him as much as he needed Amber.

An equal trade. Yes. That was better. He could work with that.

He was done with being second best. To anyone.

Instantly Sam smiled. ‘You look lovely, Amber—and not a day over twenty-eight. In fact, you ladies look so stunning as a group that I think this would make a charming example of a perfect summer drinks party. Early evening cocktails for a private party? So if you could just hold that pose? Lovely. And a little more to the right, Kate? Gorgeous—and don’t forget to smile, Kate. Much better than sticking your tongue out at me. That’s it.’

Sam stepped back and by the time the girls had straightened their dresses and rearranged the canapés his digital camera had already captured the trio from several angles, taking in the conservatory, the lovely sunlit garden and the happy women enjoying themselves.

Of course Amber had no idea that he had taken several shots for his personal album. And every one of them was of Amber.

‘Fantastic. And a few more with you choosing something from the tray and pouring more wine. Excellent. Now. Saskia. How do you want to showcase the patio? With or without the food?’