Читать книгу The Wedding Party Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Aimee Carson - Страница 30

Rebecca groaned and suppressed the urge to bang her head against the steering wheel at the labouring whine of the car’s motor.

What a way to start a Friday morning. For nearly two days she’d successfully avoided Damon, ruthlessly using the wedding as an excuse to spend as much time away from his home as possible. She’d taken advantage of T.J.’s fascination with Demetra—and taken advantage of Demetra’s kindhearted offer to babysit T.J.—to get as much organised as she could.

Even though her purpose had been to avoid Damon, Rebecca had been busy. She’d been back to the hospital to check the names of all the guests with Soula and had confirmed late additions with Demetra. A large number would be flying out from Greece, so she’d obtained quotes for their accommodation for Damon to approve. She’d visited the printers, where she’d been given samples of cards, colours and fonts for the embossing on the wedding invitations.

For today she’d lined up appointments to view several venues for the wedding. But now the battery of the little run-around that Damon had organised for her to drive was flatter than a flopped soufflé. Her fault, of course. She’d failed to close the trunk properly yesterday when she’d returned from the hospital, which meant that the trunk’s interior light had been on all night.

She dragged herself out the car and considered her options. Less than ten minutes ago Demetra had waved and driven away with T.J. safely strapped in the back of her sporty little SUV. Demetra planned to take T.J. to feed ducks in a park near her new home. On hearing about the pond, Rebecca had issued a dark warning about T.J.’s fondness of water. Demetra had promised to watch him like a hawk. Afterward she was taking T.J. to her new home for a light lunch and planned to keep him amused planting herbaceous borders in her fledgling garden.

As much as she hated taking advantage of Demetra’s sweet nature, she could call and throw herself on Demetra’s mercy and beg a ride to town.

Briefly Rebecca considered the other, less appealing option—cancelling her meetings.

“Is there a problem?” The dark velvet voice caused her to stiffen.

Damon.

It would be, of course. After successfully avoiding him, he had to find her beside a car with a flat battery. She’d been rattled by how nearly she’d fallen apart in front of him outside the elevator at the hospital, had intended to be cool, composed, elegant the next time she saw him. More than ever she wanted to kick the capricious car.

Heart sinking, she turned to face him. He looked fantastic in a dark, stylish suit with his usual white shirt and conservative narrow tie below that inscrutable face. Rebecca drew a steadying breath and tried to look more together than the jumble of chaotic emotions inside her allowed. If she told him what was wrong, perhaps he’d lend her another car—Soula’s even.

A quick glance at her watch revealed that if she left now, she could still make her first appointment. So she told him. And waited for derisive male condemnation to follow.

“I’ll take you,” he said abruptly. With a click the electronic-controlled garage door behind her started to rise, revealing his silver Mercedes.

“No, no. That’s not necessary.”

“Come. Or you will be late.” He already had his cell phone in his hand, and Rebecca could hear him instructing his PA to reschedule his appointments and organise someone to recharge Rebecca’s car battery as he shepherded her toward the Mercedes.

When he asked where she was going, she told him in a small voice. Rebecca had expected Damon to leave her at the San Lorenzo hotel, but he stayed, striding tight-lipped into the lobby at her side. Rebecca found herself tensing. Of all the places in Auckland, this was the one that held the most painful memories. But it had the grandest ballroom in town. Her own distress was no reason to exclude it from the list of venues.

Andre, a slim, dapper Frenchman who was made for the role of events manager, welcomed Rebecca like a long-lost friend. “You’re back in the business?”

With a strained smile Rebecca replied that she was simply doing a favour for a friend. She heard Damon mutter something barely audible about favours being expensive these days. Her brows jerked together in puzzlement. A sideways glance revealed that his mouth was compressed into a hard, tight line.

Rebecca was aware of the precise instant Andre recognised her companion, saw his visible double take. “Monsieur Asteriades, it is an honour to have you in our establishment. We are pleased to be of any service we can.” The Frenchman quivered like a delighted whippet.

Not for the first time Rebecca’s stomach curdled at the ingratiating treatment Damon received wherever he went. He was just a man, for goodness’ sake, albeit a gorgeous, sexy man. Andre’s deference increased as they walked around the function rooms, the ballroom, until Rebecca wanted to scream.

The tour wasn’t made any easier by the gut-churning knowledge that the last time she’d been here had been on the night of Damon’s wedding. She couldn’t help wondering how often Damon had been here since.

Often, she concluded. What did he care? Of course Damon wouldn’t share her despairing memories of the place. He’d only remember Fliss, their wedding.

What the hell did it matter? What she felt about the place was insignificant. Everything had happened nearly four years ago. It no longer had any bearing on the present. Even the decor had changed. Yet the ballroom still retained that rich ambience she remembered, making it the perfect place for a high-society wedding.

“You’re not seriously considering this place, are you?” Damon muttered through gritted teeth when Andre whisked away to fetch some sample wine lists.

One look into his stormy eyes and Rebecca knew he hadn’t forgotten one minute of that night. She stopped. This was about where she and Damon had parted company after that abortive dance. Even now, a lifetime later, she could recall the burning hurt, the utter misery that had filled her.

But she didn’t allow any of the old turmoil to show. Keeping her voice absolutely composed, she said, “It’s Auckland’s premier venue, the ballroom holds a thousand guests comfortably.”

“No.”

“No?” She raised an eyebrow at his abrupt refusal, some unkind part of her wanting to make him sweat.

“Absolutely not. While the guests might be comfortable, I most certainly will not.” A muscle flexed in his jaw, and his eyes glinted with something that looked like pain.

Perhaps the memory of Fliss, of the happiness they’d shared that night, was too much? A terrible thought struck her. Had she been wrong all those years ago? Had Damon loved Fliss?

Madly?

Deeply?

Eternally?

And if he had, then he would never accept that she’d simply done what she’d had to the night before his wedding. What she’d believed was right.

“I think you’re right,” Rebecca conceded, hating the grey tinge that had crept in under his olive tan and hating herself for contributing to it. “It’s huge and may be too overwhelming for Demetra. She told me she doesn’t want anything too grand.”

“Then let’s get out of here,” Damon said tersely.

Rebecca’s second choice of venue was an old, established yacht club that fronted onto the Waitemata Harbour. It was far less imposing, the ballroom more intimate, the view of the water and Auckland’s famous Harbour Bridge simply stunning. As the club’s function manager guided them around, Damon unclenched his fisted hands and slowly started to relax.

He’d been appalled by the emotion that had smothered him at the San Lorenzo. His towering anger at Rebecca the night of his wedding had come blasting back, an unwelcome reminder of the friction that had existed between them.

Why?

Why had they fought all the time? Why had she insisted on challenging him? Telling him that he couldn’t marry Fliss? Provoking him by flaunting her body at him, demanding that he kiss her…and more? And why had he been unable to let the smallest challenge pass?

He could remember wishing Rebecca would behave like Felicity, shy and in awe of him. Felicity had made a lovely bride. But even that memory was tarnished. Somehow he’d failed Felicity. She’d chosen to desert him. Had she known he’d failed her? That he’d betrayed her the night before he spoke his wedding vows?

He’d expected Rebecca to put up a fight against his high-handed veto of the San Lorenzo. Or at least to argue. She’d clearly established a good business relationship with Andre in the past. Yet she’d given in to his demand with barely a murmur. He’d been grateful, silently grateful. How could he, Damon Asteriades, confess that he couldn’t bear the idea of celebrating his brother’s wedding on the site where his own disastrous marriage had been sealed? Of dancing amidst too many damned ghosts?

Damon told himself he was tagging along to make sure she was fulfilling his mother’s brief for the wedding. But he knew it was more than that.

The wanting, the dark desire, had him tied up in knots. And when he’d seen her struggling with the car, the opportunity had been too good to pass up. But he’d also been consumed by curiosity. He’d seen Rebecca the successful chocolate boutique owner, Rebecca the mother and Rebecca the kind friend to an ill older woman. He’d wanted to see more, to see all the facets that made up the enigmatic women who roused such strong responses in him.

As he followed in her wake, Damon had to admit Rebecca was good at what she’d once earned a living doing. Never would he have thought of asking a tenth of the questions listed on her clipboard. Once, she pulled out her cell phone, rang his mother to check whether any wheelchair facilities would be needed and conveyed the negative reply back to their guide. She questioned. She smiled. And each time she laughed, the heat inside Damon grew and he wanted to taste that lush, laughing mouth. His. He pushed the disturbing thought aside and watched her jot a note down on a pad. She was focused, professional and totally in charge.

The promise he’d made himself in the hospital car park reared up in his mind. He wanted her. All of her. And there was nothing to stop him having her.

Rebecca finished off, arranging to come back to meet the chef who handled the catering, and Damon reached in his pocket for his car keys. “Well, that’s all for now,” she told the function manager. “When I return, I will bring the bride to see if the venue fits with her plans.”

Rebecca was deep in thought when they returned to the Mercedes. Something bothered her about the yacht club. Something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Time for lunch, I think.” Damon’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Oh, I can’t keep you any longer.”

“We both need to eat. And there is something I’ve been wanting to discuss with you. You’ve been very hard to find, Rebecca, these past couple of days. I might almost think you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you?” Her voice was high-pitched. “Why would I do that?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have had to tag along all morning to get a chance to see you alone.”

So he’d stayed because he had an agenda of his own. Rebecca’s pulse started to pound. “I don’t think—”

“Don’t.” He held up a hand. “Don’t think. Just come and share a meal with me. One of my favourite restaurants is not very far from here. I’ll talk. You can listen and savour the food.” He gave a slight smile that relieved his usually harsh features.

There’d be more to it than him talking, Rebecca suspected. A frisson slithered down her spine. Yet she was intrigued enough to want to see what kind of establishment he favoured. Even though she knew it was risky. Every minute she spent with him increased the attraction he held. Brought her closer to falling back into the dangerous quagmire of emotions she’d once before barely survived.

Slowly Rebecca nodded her assent.

Not far turned out to be a twenty-minute drive into the country, where Damon finally nosed the Mercedes into a long pohutukawa-lined avenue. The large hand-carved wooden letters against a schist wall announced simply Lakeland Lodge. Through the trees Rebecca caught a glimpse of a large country house and a vast silver sheet of water glittering beyond.

Her breath caught. “How lovely,” she breathed.

The lodge radiated serenity. Informal arrangements of country flowers decorated the foyer, and Rebecca paused at a large picture window at the sight of the colourful gardens leading down to the lake.

“What magnificent gardens,” she murmured.

Damon smiled. “I thought you’d like it here.”

After a moment she took the arm he offered and they made their way to the restaurant, where Damon was greeted with enthusiasm and shown to a table with a fine view of the gardens.

“How on earth did you discover this place?” Rebecca asked after they’d perused the menu and placed their orders.

“In the way one finds out about all best-kept secrets—by word of mouth. I came here to celebrate the silver wedding anniversary of a business acquaintance.”

“I never even knew it existed.”

“Then I have achieved something. I didn’t think there was an establishment in Auckland you didn’t know.” He gave her a narrow smile. Before Rebecca could retort, their smoked salmon starters arrived and a companionable silence fell between them.

“That was heavenly.” She laid her fork down. Taking a deep breath she decided to get whatever he’d brought her here to discuss out of the way. “There is something you wanted to talk about?”

His eyes became serious, intent. His mouth flattened into a grim line. Apprehension flooded Rebecca. She hoped it wasn’t what she’d been dreading. Did he suspect…?

Had he worked it out? No, he couldn’t have. He’d have given some sign surely. But the gravity of his expression worried her as the seconds dragged past and still he didn’t answer.

Just when her nerves reached breaking point, he sighed.

“It’s something I don’t want to admit. Something I’ve been fighting for longer than I care to think about.”

“What is it?” she asked in a rush.

He didn’t reply.

The taut pallor of his face scared her. She pinned on a bright smile. “Come on, fess up. It can’t be that bad.”

Or could it? Was something wrong with Soula? But, no, she’d spoken to Soula only half an hour ago, and the older woman had sounded upbeat, joking that she would be dancing soon, that certainly she would not need a wheelchair.

Could it be…? Was something wrong with Damon? Horror swept her. She thought wildly of James, of the shock after his diagnosis.

“Are you ill?” She blurted it out and could have kicked herself when his eyes widened.

“No, no. Nothing like that. I want you, Rebecca.” He blurted the words out and a blaze of colour stained his angled cheekbones. Her knees went weak at the sight of the naked emotion that flamed in his eyes. Then the controlled mask dropped back into place and she thought she’d hallucinated.

She blinked. Once. Twice. But the remote, powerful businessman remained. Unshakable, hardly the kind of man who would utter such a stark statement with so much haunting desperation.

“What did you say?” she whispered at last as the seconds stretched and the silence grew more strained.

“I want to make love to you.” His voice was flat, his face expressionless. He could’ve been talking about something mundane, something he didn’t particularly care much about.

Except she’d seen that hectic, passionate flash of emotion. And a telltale flame of fire still seared his cheeks.

Disbelief floored her. “You can’t.”

“I’m a man, you’re a woman. Why not?” A hint of amusement warmed his eyes, softening his impassive face.

“No.” She shook her head wildly.

“Yes.”

Spreading her hands apart, she shrugged helplessly. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” He challenged. “And don’t think you can come up with a reason I haven’t already thought of and dismissed.”

“But—” What was she supposed to say? He’d caught her so off guard she couldn’t even think straight. “You don’t even like me.”

He met her eyes levelly. “You’re quite right. I didn’t think I did.”

She flinched, his honesty stinging. “So how can you even contemplate sleeping with me?” There was confusion. Yet somewhere in a deep, hidden part of her, she felt the first hint of rising excitement.

Damon wanted her.

“I’m beginning to accept that I must like something about you to want you.” A ghost of a smile lit his eyes.

Outrage replaced euphoria. “Well, tough! You’ll just have to live with the wanting, because nothing is going to happen between us. It can’t.” Did he honestly think she was going to take the scraps that he was throwing to her? Did he think she was that desperate?

Probably.

And he was right. Because she had no pride where Damon Asteriades was concerned. All he had to do was snap his fingers and she came running. Just witness her presence here in Auckland. Witness her presence here in this restaurant today. She’d known it would be a bad idea to spend time with him. But had that stopped her accepting his invitation to lunch?

No. Of course not.

Where Damon Asteriades was concerned, she had the survival instincts of a moth circling a bright flame. But she wasn’t ready to be burned alive by him quite yet. No, he was going to have to work a hell of a lot harder. After all, she’d been waiting for him for what seemed like a lifetime. He wasn’t going to knock her feet out from under her with a stark statement that he wanted to make love to her. She wanted more. Much, much more.

“Rebecca, stop resisting. I want you and I’m going to have you—the sooner you accept it, the better.”

God, but he could be arrogant! “No way. I’ve been to hell and back because of you before and it’s not a place I’m in a hurry to visit again.”

He snorted. “You’ve got that wrong, koukla. You almost sent me to eternal damnation. You did everything you could to cause upheaval in my life. I meant nothing to you—I don’t believe that for a second—it was the challenge that I represented.”

You meant everything to me. You were my world, my universe, and you didn’t give a damn about me! But she didn’t say it aloud.

Instead she shook her head and laughed disbelievingly. “I’m not falling for this.”

What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to think? The man who stirred more emotion within her than she’d known existed wanted her. But he fiercely resented the need for her. She’d have to be stupid to take him up on it.

But she was incredibly tempted.

Fool!

Turning him down was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done. She cast around, struggling to find the words that would drive him away forever.

He reached over the table, covering her hand with his. “Would it help if I told you that over the past few days I’ve grown to admire you immensely? That I think you have courage and tenacity and a compassion that I am only starting to discover? That I’ve seen a caring side of you I never knew existed? That I’m starting to think that I may have judged you too harshly sometimes and that I’m sorry for that.”

His eyes glowed with sincerity and a warmth she’d never seen before. Underneath his hand, hers felt safe, protected.

Oh, God.

“That I’m starting to like you very much indeed. And that I’d like to get to know you better. Much, much better.”

Inside she’d turned to mush. His words pooled in the empty hole below her breastbone and created a warm glow. A hesitant joy started to blossom. She turned her hand upward and threaded her fingers through his.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “I rather think it would.” And she was half relieved, half frustrated when the waitress arrived at that moment with their main course.

They spent the balance of the meal exploring common interests, neither alluding to the bombshell Damon had dropped. Yet the knowledge of his declaration lay behind every glance, every exchange, and the air between them simmered.

He made her feel like a starry-eyed teenager on her first date. Ridiculous. She had to stop this. If Damon realised how bad she had it…

Rebecca laid her fork down with a clatter, glancing around to avoid meeting Damon’s eyes until she’d managed to mask the elated anticipation in hers.

The windows were covered with heavy navy drapes printed with pale flowers that should have looked awful but instead echoed the gardens outside. In the corner stood a grand piano, and along the walls hung exquisite paintings of country scenes. The high ceiling gave a light, airy feel to the place.

“You know,” she said suddenly, “this place would be perfect for the wedding.”

Damon looked around. A quick dismissive glance. Then she felt the heat as his gaze returned to her face. “You are probably right.”

She tried to ignore the pull of his attraction, focused on the idea she’d had.

“No probably about it. It is perfect!” Rebecca felt the familiar rising excitement which signified that a plan was coming together. “It would mean a smaller guest list than what your mother has planned. But it could work. This room would easily hold four hundred, and the covered veranda could seat another two hundred at least. The gardens are magnificent—Demetra would be in rhapsodies.”

She turned to Damon. The instant their eyes met, a shock of awareness arced between them. He gave a slow smile that made her heart turn over. “I can see why you were so good at this business. You have a knack for matching people to places.”

“No.” She brushed his praise aside, tried to still the thumping of her heart. “It’s just listening and observation.” But the way he was looking at her intensified, until heat crept into her cheeks.

“You must know all the places, so where would you choose to get married?”

“I didn’t know this one,” she pointed out. “I have you to thank for that.”

His smile stretched, lighting his eyes with a warm, intimate glow. “I cheated. It’s only been open for a couple of years. Before that it was a private estate. You couldn’t have known about it. You were up in Northland when it opened. Now tell me about your dream wedding.”

“My dream wedding?” She stared at him, bemused.

“You used to successfully plan everyone else’s—” he grinned “—dream occasions. What would you do for yourself?”

She laughed. “I blew it. Aaron and I had a civil wedding. No big deal.” Aaron had wanted to get married the instant she’d said yes. There hadn’t even been time to think, much less plan an elaborate A-list wedding.

Something moved in his blue eyes. “Okay, then fantasize. Tell me what you wish you’d done.”

“My fantasy wedding…” Rebecca paused a moment, looking away from the beautiful blue gaze to gather her thoughts. “Well, for starters, I wouldn’t need all this.” She gestured to the high sash windows, the rich country-house decor. “I’d want something simple, just a ceremony and some time afterward with the man I married—the man I loved.” She threw him a quick glance. “Too often weddings are tense occasions, and the bride is stressed half to death. I’d want time with the man I love to reflect on the solemn importance of the vows we’d just taken. I’d want them to be very, very permanent.”

She could see she’d surprised him with her outburst. He looked startled. She’d revealed more about herself than she’d ever intended. For a moment she thought he was about to argue with her. To lighten the mood, she gave a light laugh and a shrug. “A fantasy is all it is. I won’t be getting married.”

“Why not?” He was frowning now, his eyes a clear, cool blue.

“I’ve already been married.”

The blue clouded over. “That’s a good reason not to marry again?”

She didn’t want to talk about her marriage. Not to Damon. She shrugged again. “So what other reason is there? Children, I suppose. I’ve already got T.J.”

“That’s not the only reason people marry. There are things like companionship, understanding, love—”

“Oh, don’t tell me you believe in all that fairy-tale stuff, Damon?” Rebecca interrupted, her smile sharp as she struggled not to let irony creep through.

“That’s why Savvas and Demetra are getting married.” He sat back, stirring his coffee.

“Yes, but they aren’t like us. We’re realists. We’ve seen the grittier side of life. Marriage is a financial deal, exchanging wealth for fidelity, the promise of children, isn’t it?” It hurt to play devil’s advocate, but it was nothing more than what Damon believed.

“God, you are cynical.” He glared at her. “But even if you believe that, there’s still sex. That’s another reason people like you and me—” he drawled the words “—marry.”

“Sex?” That one word was all it took. Her heartbeat took off, thundering inside her rib cage, her breathing shallow.

“Yes, hot sweaty sex. Body rubbing against body—”

“Oh, that kind of sex,” she interrupted with a dismissive flutter of her hand, determined to put a stop to this before she started to pant, before he saw what he was doing to her. “But, Damon, I don’t need to marry, I simply need to take a lover for that kind of sex.”

Damon went rigid, his face a tight mask.

“And there have been many lovers?”

If he only knew!

She fluttered her eyelashes. “I never kiss and tell.”

“No, of course you don’t!” Disbelief underscored his derogatory words. “But you do kiss?”

“Oh, yes,” she said breathlessly. “I can kiss.”

The next thing she knew, he was out of his chair, beside her, leaning over. And then his mouth slanted across hers.

And she went up in flames.

There was no tenderness. It was a kiss that burned with hunger, desperation and need. He tasted of coffee, of cream, of everything she’d ever desired.

When he finally pulled away, he said slowly, “Oh, yes, you can kiss, all right.”

There were betraying flags of heat across his cheekbones, his breath came in rapid bursts and his eyes glittered.

“Perhaps it is time you took a lover,” he said darkly.

“Perhaps,” she replied, bravely holding his gaze. “I’ll need to start looking around.”

“Oh no!” He was shaking his head, his teeth bared in a feral grin. “No, koukla, you will look no farther than me. I am going to be your lover.”