Читать книгу Chasing Summer: Date with Destiny / Marooned with the Maverick / A Summer Wedding at Willowmere - Abigail Gordon, Abigail Gordon - Страница 8

‘SO!’ Michael deposited two crystal tumblers on to the glass top of the bar. ‘What will you have to drink? Your usual?’

Salome stared at him.

‘My dear lady,’ came the dry remark, ‘you don’t have to look so surprised. You and your husband were regulars at my restaurant for years. It’s my job to familiarise myself with my clientele’s likes and dislikes. I wouldn’t be much of a host if I hadn’t absorbed the fact that you only drink vodka and orange before dinner, and dry Riesling or white burgundy with your meals.’

He pushed the long sleeves of the blue sweater up his arms, showing surprisingly little body hair, and glanced at the gold watch on his wrist. ‘Since it is now approaching five, I merely guessed the vodka and orange.’ Those cold black eyes lifted. ‘Was I wrong?’ he drawled. ‘Or have your tastes changed in the last year?’

Salome’s green eyes flashed as they locked on to his hard gaze, certain that there was an underlying innuendo in those last words. Clearly he thought that, as Mrs Diamond, she had cleverly catered her tastes to what Ralph had liked, since he too had been fond of vodka and dry white wines. No doubt Mr Jump-To-Conclusions Angellini was now anticipating that such a professional gold-digger as herself might have moved on to the next man already, and adapted her likes and dislikes accordingly.

A type of black humour curved her lips back into a seductive smile. ‘Why don’t you just pour me something you like?’ she purred. ‘I’m sure you have excellent taste.’ She gave him a heavy-lidded glance, thinking viciously that if he was fooled by such blatantly feigned behaviour then he deserved to be!

He glared at her for a moment, then gave a dry, hard laugh. ‘Come now, Mrs Diamond,’ he scoffed. ‘You don’t really expect me to fall for the batting eyelashes and husky-voice trick, do you? Save it for an older, more vulnerable prey—one who’ll be so dazzled by your beauty that he won’t notice the dollar-signs clicking over behind those gorgeous green eyes of yours.’

He folded his arms and frowned at her. ‘You puzzle me, though. You’re a clever woman—an expert, I would have imagined, on the male psyche. I can’t believe you seriously thought that I would be so gullible. After all, I know that you know I’ve never been blind to your—er—chosen vocation in life.’

Salome could have reacted several ways. With a burst of true temper. Dignified outrage. Frozen silence. Even tears. She chose none of them. A cool smile crossed her lips and she had the pleasure of seeing a shocked look pass over her adversary’s face. ‘To be honest, it was an on-the-spot performance,’ she confessed bluntly. ‘A test, so to speak. But I’m relieved to see you came through it with flying colours. God knows how I would have coped if you hadn’t.’

His back stiffened, his arms slowly unfolding to grip the edge of the bar, a barely controlled fury smouldering in those normally cold black eyes. The fact that she had finally got under his skin soothed Salome’s own suppressed anger.

‘But you were right about one thing, Michael, dear,’ she went on. ‘Your company is not to my liking, and neither am I a masochist. I came along here with you merely because I wanted to hear news about my husband.’

‘Ex-husband,’ he reminded her harshly.

‘Whatever.’ She uncrossed her legs and got to her feet, unable to sit there sedately any longer. She tried to keep a calm exterior, but inside her blood was well and truly up. ‘If you’re not going to have the decency to tell me what you know without any added insults,’ she said curtly, ‘then just say so and I’ll leave.’

He didn’t say so. He just stood behind the bar, staring at her. Salome got the oddest impression that with her firm stance she had achieved more in changing this man’s opinion of her than she’d been able to do in her years as Ralph’s wife. There was a look of grudging respect in his eyes as they moved slowly over her.

‘I see there’s more to you than meets the eye, Mrs Diamond,’ he said at last.

She snorted. ‘Am I supposed to be flattered by that remark?’

His laugh was very dry. ‘No. I guess not.’

‘Then would you kindly put me out of my misery and tell me what you know about Ralph?’

Again she was on the end of a sharp look. ‘And are you in misery about your...about Mr Diamond?’

She shook her head in exasperation. ‘Wouldn’t you be, if the person you were married to chucked you out one day without so much as a word of explanation, then refused to see you?’

‘I would,’ he admitted slowly, ‘if I really loved that person, and knew I hadn’t done anything to instigate such behaviour.’

Salome gritted her teeth. ‘Oh, of course,’ she ground out, ‘that couldn’t apply to me, could it? I’m Delilah and Jezebel all wrapped up in one, aren’t I? The sort of vampirish female that ensnares older men into her sexual clutches in order to fleece them of every cent, then tosses them to the wolves when the game grows tedious or a better meal-ticket comes along?’

He was clearly startled by her verbal attack, but recovered well to shrug nonchalantly. ‘You said that. I didn’t.’

‘But you’ve been thinking it all right,’ she flung at him. ‘You thought it the very first night Ralph took me to your rotten damned restaurant!’

He glared at her, eyes hard again. ‘You have to admit you did a good impression of the vacuous sex-object wife, married to a man old enough to be your father!’

‘Age has nothing to do with love,’ she argued. ‘And I wasn’t vacuous. I was shy. Tongue-tied...’

‘Oh, come now,’ he scorned. ‘Shy? Tongue-tied?’

‘Yes,’ she insisted. ‘At first.’

‘Well, you soon learned what was expected of you,’ he pointed out caustically. ‘I’ve never seen such an accomplished courtesan, dripping all over your escort, eating him up with your eyes, laughing deliciously at every joke he made. And the clothes you wore. Or didn’t wear, more accurately. Hardly the way a shy woman would dress!’

A fierce blush coloured Salome’s cheeks at the essence of truth behind this accusation. Ralph had always chosen her clothes, and he had a penchant for evening wear that was very sexy. Low necklines and bare shoulders meant that underwear had always been at a minimum. Neither could she dismiss the fact that on subsequent visits to Angellini’s she had often gone over the top with her flirtatious behaviour towards Ralph out of some sort of spite of their host’s ever-reproachful eyes.

‘I was always perfectly decently dressed,’ she defended staunchly through her inner fluster. ‘And decently behaved. Ralph was my husband, and you had no right to sneer at me behind his back.’

‘I never sneered.’

‘You could have fooled me!’

‘Apparently I did!’ he snapped.

They both glared at each other, the silence electric. And then he did the strangest thing. He sighed, his face softening, his eyes almost apologetic.

‘Look, let’s stop this,’ he said reasonably. ‘It’s rather childish, don’t you think? If it makes you feel better, I apologise. Now calm down and sit down. I’ll get you that drink.’ He gave a wry laugh. ‘I think you might be more in need of it now than before.’

For a moment Salome stood where she was, feeling somewhat stunned. But then she slumped back down on the sofa, for she had begun to shake with spent emotion. What on earth was wrong with her, letting this man goad her into defending herself so hotly? What did it matter what he thought of her? He meant nothing to her, nothing at all! The only issue at stake here was trying to find out what she could about Ralph, yet she had allowed herself to be totally side-tracked.

Irritated, she glared over at Michael’s now superbly composed self, silently going about mixing the drinks with efficient, economical movements. Cubes of ice were dropped in first, followed by a hefty slurp of vodka. Finally the glasses were topped up with fresh orange juice from the small bar fridge. She watched him walk round the front of the bar, grudgingly admitting that he looked almost as good in casual clothes as he did when dressed formally.

The softly moulding crew-necked pullover showed that his broad shoulders were not an illusion of good tailoring, the wool’s blue colour highlighting his dark colouring. Salome’s gaze drifted downwards to where his trim hips and long legs were housed in a pair of loosely fitting grey trousers. It annoyed her when she began to wonder what he would look like in a pair of tight, body-hugging jeans.

‘Here we are,’ he said, scooping up the brimming drinks without spilling a drop, and bringing them over with the skill and ease of an experienced waiter.

Which is probably what he once was, she thought caustically, before reminding herself that they had a lot in common, in that case. She had been a waitress before marrying Ralph. It bothered her momentarily that her years as the wealthy and privileged Mrs Diamond might have turned her into some sort of snob, since Salome Twynan would never have looked down her nose at someone for doing any kind of a job at all.

Don’t be silly, she berated herself. You have every reason to feel bitchy towards this man. It has nothing to do with what job he’s done, or hasn’t done!

‘So you really have no idea why Mr Diamond ended your marriage?’ Michael asked, giving her a penetrating look as he handed over her drink.

The intensity those black eyes could project unnerved her. ‘None,’ she admitted.

He sat down on the sofa next to her, his own drink moving to his lips, those same disturbing eyes watching her closely over the rim of the glass.

Salome tried desperately to ignore how his gaze and closeness were affecting her. She felt stifled, nervous, afraid even. Of what? she puzzled frantically. Because she was alone with him in his apartment? Michael Angellini didn’t seem the type of man to make a crass pass unless given some encouragement. He was, on the surface at least, a gentleman.

Salome pushed aside her illogical apprehension and put her mind back on the issue at hand. ‘I came home one day,’ she explained somewhat reluctantly, ‘and found my bags packed. Ralph gave me no explanation other than to state that our marriage was over.’

The man next to her was clearly taken aback. He straightened and just stared at her, his glass hovering at his lips. Salome sipped her own drink, her hand shaking slightly.

‘I...I tried to find out the reason, but he wouldn’t budge,’ she went on agitatedly. ‘In the end I suppose I got a little hysterical. Ralph simply called one of his body-guards and had me removed from the premises.’

‘My God, that’s appalling!’

The depth of disgust Salome saw in his face startled her. Yet it was oddly comforting to have someone else find Ralph’s behaviour inexcusable. Even her own mother had presumed she had been to blame. But then, poor Molly always thought women were to blame when a relationship ended.

‘As I said to you earlier,’ she managed to get out, ‘I haven’t seen Ralph in the fourteen months since that day. Not that I haven’t tried.’ And she found herself relaying to her surprisingly intent listener all her endeavours to have a personal meeting with her ex-husband.

‘So, you see,’ she finished, ‘I’m anxious to hear anything about Ralph at all. I want some answers. I need some answers!’

‘Of course you do,’ he agreed strongly. ‘Of course. No one deserves to be treated like that!’

Not even a gold-digging little tramp like me, Salome added silently with a weary sigh. Strangely enough, all of a sudden, this man’s low opinion of her hurt. It hurt like mad. Ralph might have been able to snub his nose at the opinion of others, but Salome was finding it increasingly upsetting to have people believe she was little better than a woman of easy virtue.

An involuntary shudder ran through her, bringing a puzzled frown from her companion. ‘Is there something wrong with your drink?’ he asked.

It was just as well, Salome realised bitterly, that she had grown expert at the art of the superbly bland social face, which consisted of totally unreadable eyes and a soulless smile.

Yet, somehow, hiding the hurt this man kept dishing out, however unconsciously, proved to be more difficult than usual. That plastic smile just wouldn’t come, and when she looked at him she found herself becoming lost in those incredible black eyes of his, which at that moment were filled with a disarming sympathy. She dragged her own away, and stared down at the half-empty drink.

‘No,’ she said tautly, twisting the glass around and around in her hands. ‘It’s fine.’ She gulped most of it back in one go, then cleared her throat and looked up. ‘You’re being very nice to me, Michael. Considering...’

For a second he just looked at her, but she thought she detected a hint of irony in his eyes. He reached to pick up his own drink once more, turning his eyes back to hold her nervous ones with consummate ease. ‘My friends call me Mike,’ he said quietly.

For a second Salome was taken aback. Then she laughed. ‘I’m not a friend, though, am I?’

He smiled and shrugged. ‘You could become one.’

‘I doubt that very much.’

‘Why?’

Her expression was incredulous. ‘Why? For one thing, you don’t like me!’

‘Aah...’ His smile became quite cynical. ‘I can’t deny that I didn’t like you much when you were Mrs Diamond. But as...Salome’s your name, isn’t it?’

‘Y-yes,’ she admitted warily.

‘As single Salome, I think I could like you well enough,’ he stated with a seductive softness, then leaned back and took another swallow of his drink.

Salome’s insides tightened. Was this what she’d subconsciously been waiting for, been agitated about? For her one-time foe to make a sexual move towards her? Her glare was withering. ‘I suppose I’m going to have to get used to that sort of remark,’ she snapped. ‘But I would have thought that a man as eligible as yourself wouldn’t have to resort to chasing frustrated divorcees.’

There was a sardonic lift to one eyebrow. ‘And are you frustrated, Salome?’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ She stood up and slammed her glass down on to the low marble-topped table in front of the sofa. ‘I’m not going to stay here and exchange sexual innuendoes. Obviously your offer of friendship was nothing but a ruse. You couldn’t give a damn about helping me with news of Ralph. All you really want is to get me into bed!’

He stared at her for what seemed like ages, then a wry smile tugged at his lips. ‘Let me assure you, my dear Salome,’ he drawled, ‘that such a thought has never entered my head. Of course,’ he added, his gaze travelling slowly over her heaving breasts, ‘I wouldn’t knock you back if you offered. Or aren’t you that frustrated?’

‘Oh!’ she gasped. ‘Oh!’ she repeated with a stamp of her foot. ‘Of all the—’ Flustered and fuming, she whirled on her heels and began striding towards the door.

‘Mr Diamond always had the same young woman with him.’

Salome froze mid-stride, then turned. So there was another woman, a new ‘project’ for Ralph to work on, a new ‘possession’. Funny, she would have thought she’d be relieved to find an answer at last. Instead, she still felt devastated. Yet there she’d been lately, thinking her love for Ralph had finally begun to die.

‘A—a young woman?’ she repeated blankly.

‘Yes. A brunette. Attractive. Very well-groomed. A career girl, by the look of her. Though I have to confess I don’t think they were business acquaintances. Fact is,’ Michael went on quite ruthlessly, ‘there’s no doubt in my mind they were lovers. I saw them come out of the penthouse very early in the morning together a couple of times. Once they had their arms around each other in the corridor.’

Lovers?

Salome stared, a weak hand fluttering up to her throat as she tried to make sense of Michael’s observation. How could Ralph have a lover? Unless... unless he had lied to her...

Salome felt quite ill, the blood draining from her face, her eyes dropping to the floor. Why would he have done such a thing? Why?

‘Come and sit down.’

Salome’s head jerked up when gentle hands closed over her shoulders. How had he got to her side so quickly? The last time she had looked he had been sitting down.

‘Come on.’ He led her over and settled her on the sofa. ‘I’m sorry, Salome. I shouldn’t have told you that quite so bluntly. I didn’t realise—’

Her head snapped up, green eyes pained. ‘Realise what?’ she said brokenly. ‘That I might really care about my husband? That I might actually be upset to find he was probably being unfaithful to me all along?’

He crouched down on his haunches in front of her, his hands gripping hers. ‘Maybe Mr Diamond has a lover now. But I don’t believe he would have been unfaithful to you while you were still living together.’

The fierceness in his voice and eyes startled her. ‘I can’t imagine any man having a woman like you in his bed,’ he continued, ‘and looking elsewhere.’

For a second she almost laughed at the complete irony of his remark. Till she realised exactly what his words implied—that, as a supposed ‘professional’ at the art of lovemaking, she should be well equipped to hold a man’s interest.

It infuriated her that she kept on feeling distressed by this man’s bad opinion of her. No way, however, was she going to show that he had upset her again.

She still laughed, but it reeked of sarcasm. She also snatched away her hands. ‘What a typically superficial male comment! No woman is that good. Somehow, I expected more of you, Michael Angellini, than to believe sex alone will hold a man indefinitely. Or is that all it takes to hold you?’ she couldn’t resist adding.

Those black eyes glittered dangerously as he got slowly to his feet, glaring down at her. She had hit a nerve all right with her comment. And serve him right! she thought savagely. She’d had a few nerves hit by him over the years. She lifted her chin defiantly to glare back up at him. Think of me what you like, her eyes taunted. I don’t give a damn!

‘Actually, you’re wrong, Salome,’ he bit out. ‘Sex, alone, does not hold me. I wish it did,’ he grated out, throwing her a black look as he dropped down in his corner of the sofa. ‘At least sex is straightforward and simple. It’s when it gets tangled up with deeper emotions that the trouble starts.’

Salome found herself feeling an odd sympathy for him. He sounded genuinely wretched, as though he had suffered deeply from an unhappy love-affair, and was still suffering. She didn’t like to see anyone on the end of that kind of distress—even Mike. She knew how it felt.

She darted a quick sidewards glance at his grimly set mouth, and wondered if that was why he hadn’t married. Perhaps he loved some woman who didn’t love him back? A measure of guilt crept in as she realised she might have done him an injustice. Not that she felt he deserved an apology. He’d always given more than he got. Besides, they had once again got off the point of why she had come along here.

‘So,’ she said bitterly, ‘Ralph isn’t suffering from a hideously disfiguring disease after all.’

Her host shot her a startled glance.

Salome shrugged. ‘It was another of my way-out theories for why Ralph threw me out.’

‘I see,’ Mike nodded. ‘Well, I’m afraid to say Mr Diamond looks as fit as ever, though I can’t say I like his new hair colour. I prefer a man to go grey gracefully.’

‘He’s dyed his hair?’ The idea astounded Salome. Admittedly Ralph had always been vain about his thick brown hair, but the grey at his temples had never seemed to bother him unduly. No doubt he wanted to look younger to impress this new lover, she thought bitterly, then wondered with added misery how many others there had been.

‘Yes, he’s gone blond.’

‘Good God!’ She stood up, still shaking her head in confused desolation. ‘Well...there’s really nothing more to be said, is there?’

Her companion jumped to his feet. ‘Don’t go yet,’ he said, his tone surprisingly urgent. Salome blinked her amazement up at him. ‘Have dinner with me tonight.’

She gaped at him, unable to hide her complete and utter shock. ‘You have to be joking?’

He kept a perfectly straight face. ‘Not at all.’

‘But—but why?’ she stammered.

‘Why not?’ he persisted.

She gave a dry laugh. ‘I think you know damn well why not.’

His eyes didn’t flicker. ‘You’re going out with another man?’

She dragged a deep breath and counted to ten. ‘No,’ she said with barely held patience. This was too ridiculous for words.

‘Ralph won’t be dining alone tonight,’ he inserted quietly. ‘Why should you?’

She gave him a sharp look. ‘That’s playing dirty.’

A slow smile creased his mouth. ‘There are times,’ he drawled cryptically, ‘when one has to resort to whatever weapons are at hand.’

Salome didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

‘Come on, Salome. Say yes. It won’t kill you. We’ll call a truce for one night.’

‘Oh, so you do accept that we haven’t exactly been friends?’ she pointed out drily. ‘Nor are we likely to be while you hold the opinion of me that you do.’

‘You could always try to convince me differently,’ he suggested with a rueful smile.

‘Huh!’ She flicked a stray curl back over her shoulder. ‘I’d have more luck convincing the Greenpeace movement to take up whaling.’

He laughed, and this time genuinely amused lights glittered in his eyes. Salome suddenly realised that their bantering was not malicious any longer. She was, in fact, quite enjoying the flow of dry wit between them. It surprised her.

‘Come on, Salome. Stop frowning and say yes. I’ve only asked you out to dinner, not to marry me!’

There was a caustic flavour in this last statement that caused Salome to flare. ‘Thank goodness for small mercies!’

He glared at her for a few seconds, his whole body tensing noticeably. But then he visibly relaxed, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘Tut-tut, you do have a temper, don’t you?’ He reached out and put a firm grasp on her elbow, and began leading her inexorably towards the door. ‘Next thing you know you’ll be changing your mind about going out to dinner with me.’

She ground to a halt, exasperation written all over her face. ‘Might I remind you I haven’t said yes yet?’

‘Haven’t you? I could have sworn you had.’

Though obviously put on, his air of bewildered confusion had a certain charm, and Salome found herself smiling. ‘Do you ever take no for an answer?’

A slow smile came to his mouth. ‘Not often.’

‘Perhaps I should refresh your memory on what it’s like to be turned down,’ she challenged.

His smile turned faintly sardonic. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time.’

‘I’m surprised. I would have said a man such as you would have an impeccable track-record with the ladies.’

He shrugged. ‘You can’t win them all, I suppose.’

Salome thought she caught an edge of pain in those words, and she remembered her previous impression that Mike could well be suffering from a broken heart. Unexpectedly, it touched her. She didn’t like to think of anyone having to suffer what she’d been suffering.

This line of thought also made her realise he might be thinking the same about her, and that this invitation to dinner could very well be a true gesture of kindness. Yet here she was, being difficult and stroppy about it. She resolved to give in graciously and be done with it.

‘Very well,’ she said with a resigned smile. ‘I’ll come. Just this once.’

He seemed pleased. ‘Great. What time will I come along and pick you up?’

It suddenly dawned on her that he thought she’d moved into the penthouse, so she launched into the explanation that she didn’t intend living in the penthouse but would probably sell it, and that she lived with her mother in a neat, three-bedroom brick cottage in the suburb of Killara.

Now he didn’t seem so pleased, a dark frown drawing his black brows together. Salome deduced somewhat caustically that his Christian charity in asking her out clearly didn’t extend to a twenty-minute drive both ways through busy, city-bound traffic.

‘If it’s too much trouble...’ she began.

‘No, no—no trouble.’ But the frown had not entirely disappeared. ‘Just give me the address and a time to be there. By the way, do you have any preference where we eat?’

‘Not Angellini’s,’ she said instinctively.

‘Certainly not.’ His tone was even sharper than hers, and she actually winced. It was peculiar enough going out with a man who had once despised her, and maybe still did! She certainly didn’t want to return to the scene of the crime, so to speak.

A thought struck her, though, that hadn’t occurred to her before. ‘Don’t you have to act as host at your restaurant tonight?’ she asked. He’d always been there, if her memory served her correctly.

‘Not on a Thursday.’

‘Oh...’ Her eyes dropped, her heart regretful all of a sudden that she had agreed to go out with him. He was a link with her past, with Ralph, a past she now wanted to forget. Her ex-husband must be some sort of monster, to deceive her as he had done. She actually cringed as she thought of how she had allowed him to dictate every facet of her life. God, she’d been the original puppet on a string, the perfect piece of clay to mould as he willed. And all the while he’d been making a fool of her, having lovers behind her back while she fulfilled the role he’d chosen for her—that of a decorative hostess with no more say in their life than one of the original paintings he hung on his wall.

Salome shook her head as she vowed never to surrender herself to a man’s will like that again. If she ever remarried it would be to a man who would be her partner, not her master—an equal in every way.

Her eyes lifted to see a ruthless black gaze peering down at her, the gaze of a man whom she suspected would be no more husband material for a woman than Ralph, obviously, had been. For a moment she felt oddly disconcerted, but quickly dismissed the unwarranted reaction. This swinging bachelor’s personal life was no concern of hers. ‘Well, Mike?’ she said. ‘Have you got a pencil and paper, or an excellent memory?’