Читать книгу Twin Scandals - Фиона Бранд - Страница 11

Two

Sophie registered the stunned silence punctuated by the motorized click and whir of a high-speed camera, and the flash of multiple cell phone cameras. All documenting the fact that she, a person who hated scenes, had just made a very public, very messy scene with the man she had slept with—and who she was supposed to have dumped—a year ago.

Face burning, feeling quietly horrified, she turned on her heel, walked back to the bar and returned the empty glass to the barman. She managed a cool smile, then made a quick exit out onto the terrace, which led down to a gleaming pool and beautiful gardens. Behind her, she was aware of the hubbub of noise as waiters scurried to clean up the water on the floor so that no one would slip. She was going to have to apologize to them, and to Nick, who would go crazy because she’d made a scene at his launch party.

She reached the secluded far end of the terrace, which was shaded with large, lush potted palms. Gripping the railing, she stared down at the glowing turquoise pool. The sound on Ocean Drive registered. The screech of tires, as if someone had just braked, followed by the long blast of a horn spun her back just over eleven months, to the accident and her last encounter with Ben.

Not that she had been thinking about him when her SUV had skidded on the loose piece of metal on a country road, then rolled down a gully choked with vegetation and trees. She had been focused on a future that did not contain him.

Happily, the airbags had deployed and the safety belt had done its job, but the two full revolutions down the shallow bank had battered her SUV. Worse yet, the seat belt had repeatedly cut into her torso and stomach, leaving a deep bruise and placing an extra load on her spine at vertebrae T11 and T12.

When the SUV had stopped, it was miraculously right side up. After the airbags had deflated, she found herself enclosed by dense brush and staring at the gnarled branches of a tree, which meant she was invisible from the road.

Her handbag, gym gear and bottle of water, all of which had been in the back seat, were now strewn around her in the front of the car. Her nose was stinging from the water bottle hitting her face while the car had been doing its tumbling act.

Not a problem. But the instant she reached for her handbag, a sharp pain in her right wrist and one in her lower back made her freeze in place. A quick inspection of her wrist suggested it had probably taken a hit from both front and side airbags when she’d automatically thrown up her arm to shield her face. It was straight but already swelling, which meant it was sprained not broken. Since she’d had a broken arm as a kid, she knew the difference.

She had no idea how bad the back injury might be. She didn’t think it was too serious because she hadn’t lost any feeling anywhere, but it was starting to throb, and she knew enough from the first aid course she’d done, and from her mom, who had trained as a paramedic, that you didn’t mess around with spinal injuries. The injuries meant she couldn’t afford to try to exit the SUV herself and climb up to the road.

Luckily she had her cell phone with her, which she suddenly loved with passion because it was going to connect her with the good, safe world out there.

She also knew exactly where she was, so at least she could take charge of getting rescued.

Moving carefully, so as not to twinge her back any more than necessary, she retrieved her phone from her bag.

Normally, she would ring the emergency services number, but since her mother, who had trained as a paramedic after Sophie’s father’s death and volunteered for the local ambulance service, it made sense to kill two birds with one stone and ring her.

Annoyingly, she was forced to use her clumsy left hand because her right hand was out of commission. Instead of getting her mom’s number, she scrolled too far and found herself staring at Ben’s.

A sharp, stabbing pain replaced the throb in her back, and she realized she had tensed. The hand holding her phone jerked, and her thumb must have moved on the screen because suddenly the phone was dialing him.

She wasn’t even supposed to have his number, because when he’d walked out on their one night together and disappeared overseas, he hadn’t given her any contact details at all. She’d had to stoop to getting the number off her brother, Nick’s, phone.

A split second later, his deep, cool voice filled the cab. “Sophie? Why are you ringing? Is something wrong?”

Shock and mortification held her immobile for long seconds, along with the realization that for Ben to know it was her calling meant he must have her number—and she hadn’t given it to him.

It registered that his voice sounded more gravelly than usual, as if she had just woken him up. She probably had, since he was living half a world away, in Miami.

A sudden image of Ben sprawled in bed, of his bronzed shoulders and broad chest a stark contrast to white sheets, made the breath hitch in her throat. She cleared her throat, which felt suddenly tight. “Nothing that you can help with.”

“Are you sure? Babe, you sound…odd.”

Babe.

He had only called her that once before, while they had been in bed. He certainly had no right to call her that now! And she was injured. She shouldn’t be lingering on the phone talking with him. What she needed was an ambulance. Suddenly the weird desire to keep Ben with his dark velvet voice on the line was gone and she was back. “You’re in Miami, I’m in New Zealand. There’s no way you can help me.” She hurriedly added, “Not that I need help from you with anything.”

Her jaw tightened at the fact that she had almost let him know that she was, actually, in need of help, a situation that was unthinkable, since she would rather crawl through the scrub and up the bank with her injured back and sprained wrist than accept any help Ben Sabin might care to offer.

“It’s been nice talking to you,” she said smoothly, “but I didn’t mean to call you. Igloos will be melting in the Arctic and polar bears sunning themselves in Central Park before it happens again. It was a misdial.”

With a stab of her thumb—this time deadly accurate—she terminated the call.

She scrolled through her contacts and succeeded in contacting Luisa Messena. With her mom and help on the way, she tried to relax. But the instant she didn’t have anything to do, all she could think about was Ben. Embarrassed heat flooded her that she had actually rung him, which was at the top of her list of things not to do.

On top of that, the fact that he’d somehow gotten hold of her number and had never bothered to contact her made her mad, which was not good, because it meant she was obviously still harboring sneaky feelings for him.

While she was at home convalescing, her mother, who had figured out that she was struggling with lack of closure around her “relationship” with Ben, had suggested she have counseling and had recommended a therapist. Sophie hadn’t thought she would like the process, but she had taken to it like a duck to water, because the therapy had put the power back in her hands.

What she had felt for Ben was past tense and controllable. She did not have to feel disempowered by what he did or did not do. She was free and empowered to make her own choices.

A distant flash of lightning jerked her back to the present, and to Nick’s party, where, once again, she had managed to utterly embarrass herself.

The breeze lifted, blowing loose strands of hair around her cheeks. She was on the point of leaving and returning to the room Nick had reserved for her at the resort when a sense of premonition tingled down her spine. Ben. Her breath hitched in her throat, and for a crazy moment she wondered if she was experiencing one of Francesca’s feelings.

When she turned, he was there. The terrace lights glanced off the clean cut of his cheekbones, emphasizing the intriguing shadows beneath and highlighting the solid line of his jaw. He shrugged out of his jacket, which had water stains down the lapels, and tossed it over the wrought iron railing. The white shirt he was wearing was wet all down the front and plastered across his chest, making him seem even broader and more muscular than she remembered.

He dragged long fingers through his damp hair and wiped moisture from his chin. His gaze connected with hers. “I guess I deserved that.”

Sophie tried not to notice the way Ben’s skin glowed bronze through the wet shirt. She remembered the pretty blonde.

Stomach tight, she glanced past Ben’s shoulder. There were a few people strolling around the terrace, but none of them looked remotely like the girl with whom Ben had been dancing. “Shouldn’t you be looking after your date?”

He dragged at his tie, which she was gratified to see was also soaked. “I don’t have a date. That was Ellie, the daughter of my business manager. And before you ask, my business manager is also female, but fifty-something and happily married.”

Though Sophie wanted to stay angry and distant and cold, relief flooded her. A little desperately she reminded herself that Ben was still a rat, just not a big enough rat to bring a date to a party at which he knew she would be present.

“What makes you think I need to know anything about the women in your life?” She cleared her throat, which felt tight. “You’re free to date who you want, just as I am.”

Ben’s gaze zeroed in on her mouth as if he had picked up on the extra huskiness of her voice, the one sign she couldn’t control when she was upset. It was a reminder that he knew her too well.

Normally, when it came to men, it was easy for Sophie to keep them at a safe distance. But Ben had, literally, become part of the family for eighteen months, turning up for Sunday lunches, sharing celebrations and spending hours sailing with Nick. He had even been invited to family weddings and christenings, all of which, she now realized, had slowly worn away her defenses and changed the way she had thought about him.

She had begun to think of him as possible husband material.

He leaned back against the terrace railing, arms folded across his chest. “According to social media and the tabloids, you haven’t exactly been lonely.”

She stiffened at his clear reference to the guy she had flaunted in front of the paparazzi as her new man just days after Ben had walked out on her. Since then, she had kept up a steady stream of handsome escorts—most of them Francesca’s friendly exes—just to hammer home that she did not miss Ben in the least.

“So, who’s the lucky guy tonight?” Ben’s gaze narrowed. “He looks familiar.”

Probably because Ben had seen him when he was dating Francesca. Warmth flooded Sophie’s cheeks. For a heart-pounding moment she tried to remember the name of her date. “Oh, you mean, uh—Tobias.”

Ben’s expression seemed to sharpen even further. “Tobias Hunt, of Hunt Security?”

Offhand she could not remember Tobias’s surname; he could be from the royal line of Kadir for all she knew. She had met him for only the third time this evening, and all she had was a phone number and a first name, both of which Francesca had supplied. “We’ve only just started dating,” she said smoothly.

Technically, this was a first date, even as she instinctively knew it would also be the last, because Tobias, despite his masculine presence and good looks, was an oddly lackluster companion.

“So, not serious yet?”

“Not so far.” She met his gaze squarely. “Tobias and I are just good friends. Not that it’s any of your business.”

For a disorienting moment Ben’s gaze burned into hers. “It used to be my business.”

Sophie’s heart pounded in her chest. In a moment of clarity she realized that Ben was suffering from the same kneejerk reaction that had affected her when she had seen him dancing with the young blonde; he was jealous. If he was jealous, that meant that he did still feel something for her, something real enough that it had lasted through a year of separation. She even had the sense that he was on the brink of saying that he was sorry he had walked out on her and that he wanted her back. Then his expression seemed to harden and he broke their eye contact.

She thought grimly that he was regretting the momentary lapse. And suddenly her rage was back, which was a relief, even if she was beginning to feel like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. “As I recall, we didn’t exactly date. We slept together one night, then you disappeared.”

His brows jerked together. “You have to know that I didn’t intend to sleep with you that nigh—”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better? That you slept with me by mistake?”

“It wasn’t a mistake. It was the night of my farewell. I was leaving for Miami, with no plans to come back to New Zealand. That’s not exactly great timing for starting a relationship.”

Though wanting to stay furious because it felt so much stronger and more empowering than feeling dumped, Ben’s use of the word “relationship” literally took the wind from her sails. It meant he had been thinking about her in relationship terms. Although, clearly, he had not been thinking very hard. “We had chemistry for months before that—”

“Babe, if I’d made a move on you earlier, that would have meant we would have been dating. Then I would have been answerable to Nick.”

Babe. There it was again. A secret thrill she absolutely did not want to feel coursed through her. Obviously, where Ben was concerned, she was more vulnerable and needy than she had thought. The fact was she could not afford to weaken because he had called her babe…as if he still saw her as girlfriend material, as if they still had an intimate connection. “What does Nick have to do with any of this?”

Ben leaned on the railing beside her, suddenly close enough that she could feel the heat of his skin. His clean masculine scent teased her nostrils, spinning her back to the one night they had spent together and the heated, addictive hours she had spent locked in his arms. Out of nowhere, the intense awareness that, a year ago, had burned her from the inside out was back.

His gaze touched on hers, and for a fractured moment the air turned molten and she had the crazy thought that Ben was just as affected as she.

“Nick was my boss,” he said flatly. “When he knew I was interested, he spelled it out chapter and verse. Unless I was ready to make a commitment, as in marriage, I should leave you alone.”

Sophie’s startled gaze clashed with Ben’s. The word “marriage” was faintly shocking. It also invested what Ben had just said about Nick with the ring of truth. When it came to the Messena women, Nick and her other three brothers—Gabriel, Kyle and Damian—were territorial and overprotective. It was the kind of medieval, macho behavior that gave her warm fuzzies and a wonderful sense of security when she did need protection. She knew that, hands down, if anyone tried to bother her or touch her when she didn’t want to be touched, he would have to deal with four large, muscled brothers and their version of the law of the jungle.

The downside to the Messena men was that they could be macho and controlling, and could totally overstep the mark by interfering with her life.

The reasons for Ben’s abrupt departure and lack of communication were starting to come clear, although not entirely. “Nick can be overbearing, but that still doesn’t explain your behavior after you slept with me.” No apology, no phone call, not even a text message explaining why he didn’t want to stay in contact, just that shabby little note thanking her for their night together…

Ben shrugged, his expression remote and unapologetic. “Like I said, I was leaving for the States. I was taking on a new business. There was no way I could afford to start a relationship.”

Relationship. There was that word again. Despite her determination to not allow Ben to affect her, the fact that he had seen her as potential relationship material, but in the wrong time and place, was quietly riveting. It raised the possibility that, maybe, there could be a right time and place.

Still, Sophie knew that timing and geography weren’t the only issues with Ben. From her online research she knew that he had also been burned by a past relationship and now seemed chronically wary of commitment.

Previously, she had dismissed Ben’s past. He was a big boy; he should be able to get over a broken engagement. However, that had been a serious mistake, because commitment was obviously still a problem.

The moment she had realized he’d had her number when she had been sitting in her SUV at the bottom of bush-choked gully burned through her again. “You had my number. You could have phoned me.”

“If I’d done that we’d be right back where we are now.” Ben’s gaze seared her.

With slow deliberation, he picked up her hand and threaded her fingers with his. Heat shimmered from that one point of contact, making her heart pound and her stomach tighten. Memories she had worked hard to bury flooded back. Ben’s mouth on hers, heat welding them together as they’d lain together in his bed. The intense emotion that had poured through her with every touch, every caress, along with a bone-deep certainty she had never experienced before and which had been the reason she had consented to sleep with him in the first place. The uncanny conviction that after years of disinterested dating, she had finally found The One.

With a jerky movement, she withdrew her hand.

Ben pushed away from the railing and dragged off his tie as if it was suddenly too tight. He draped it over the railing next to his jacket. His brooding gaze dropped to her mouth. “I didn’t call you because I didn’t think you were serious about wanting a real relationship.”

She frowned. He could only be referring to the fact that she was naturally wary and standoffish when it came to relationships and that it had taken her eighteen months to admit to him that she found him crazily attractive. “It’s not as if I’m in the habit of having one-night stands!”

He shrugged. “I was also not in a position to offer any kind of commitment.”

Sophie met Ben’s gaze squarely. She could barely concentrate on Ben’s struggle with his emotional past when she was coping with her own very present struggle and the startling revelation that he still wanted her. “You could have asked me what I wanted instead of talking to Nick. It’s not as if my brother is any kind of a love doctor.”

To put it succinctly, Nick had had a serious issue with commitment, which had been resolved only when the woman he had married, Elena, had taken a risk on him and he had ended up falling for her hook, line and sinker. It had just taken some time.

Suddenly all the breath seemed to be sucked out of Sophie’s lungs. Elena and Nick’s relationship had been a bumpy affair, but Elena had persevered and she had won out in the end. Sophie believed that Elena had won Nick because what they shared had been real and true in the first place. But the relationship could easily have failed if Elena hadn’t taken the initiative and risked herself by sleeping with Nick in unpromising circumstances. Twice.

Sophie took a deep breath and tried to stay calm, which was difficult because her mind was going a million miles an hour. Usually she was guarded, logical: smart. She did not let emotion carry her away. She did not try to win a man, especially not an alpha male like Ben, because alphas were dominant and predatory and they preferred to do the hunting.

But this was different. They were on a darkened terrace, with the perfumed night pressing in around them. Heated awareness pulsed through her as she grappled with the dangerous knowledge that Ben still wanted her.

It wasn’t love, not even close.

But it was a start.

If Elena had worked with Nick—who, let’s face it, had been an extremely unpromising boyfriend—Sophie could work with Ben. In that moment a world of possibilities opened up and a year of wallowing in victimhood was gone. She was back to her normal ultraorganized, controlling self with a project to manage, and that project was Ben Sabin.

She closed the distance between them. “Let’s not worry about the commitment issue right now,” she said smoothly, her palms gliding over his shoulders.