Читать книгу Blame it on the Bikini - Natalie Anderson - Страница 8

‘I’M NOT interested.’ Mya was telling herself that over and over but her body wasn’t listening. Her pulse still pounded, her ears still attuned to every nuance in his words. But her ego was piqued. He’d kissed her only after seeing her breasts in a skimpy bikini—and now he wanted to hire her? For what exactly?

‘Sure you are.’ He winked. ‘I have to have a party now and you’re the perfect person to organise it for poor helpless me.’

She shook her head. ‘Poor and helpless are the antithesis of what you are. You don’t need anyone, let alone me.’

He grinned, obviously appreciating the unvarnished truth, but behind the smiling eyes she sensed his brain was whizzing. Yeah, the guy was wickedly calculating. And far too together already after the kiss that had shattered her. She needed to keep her guard well up.

‘Lauren’s finished her degree,’ he said.

Momentarily thrown by the change in topic, Mya blinked. Then she nodded, but said nothing. If she hadn’t been such an idiot, she’d have been a lot nearer to finishing her degree too.

‘For a while there it didn’t seem likely she’d even finish high school let alone a university degree,’ he added.

He was right. When Mya had started at that school, Lauren’s wild streak had been on the verge of going septic and that hadn’t been in the perfect Davenport family plan at all. They were all graduates with successful careers—and expected Lauren to achieve the same. Whereas Mya was the only one in her family to have finished school. She was supposed to be the first in the family to finish a degree too. Honours no less, having won a prestigious scholarship. Except she’d screwed it up, and now she doubted that she’d ever deserved it. But she’d finish her degree all on her own account—independence was now everything to her. This time she was taking the lead from Lauren. So she nodded. ‘She defied everyone’s expectations and did it. Brilliantly too.’

There was a pause and she couldn’t help glancing at him. And then they both laughed at that one unbelievable aspect of Lauren’s success.

‘It’s more than a little ironic, don’t you think?’ he said, his face lightening completely. ‘That she almost dropped out and now she’s going to be a teacher?’

‘She’ll be a dragon too, I bet.’ Mya bit her lip but couldn’t quite hold back the chuckle. ‘Super-strict. She won’t put up with any illegal nail polish.’ Back in the day, Mya and Lauren had broken more than the nail-polish rules. Their favourite look had been purple splatter.

‘So we’ll have the party for her. It’s as good an excuse as any,’ Brad said confidently. ‘Exam results are out. It’s not long until Christmas. Many of her friends are going overseas and won’t be back for her graduation ceremony next year. She’s worked hard for a long while.’ He faced her square on again. ‘So we’ll surprise her.’

‘You’re going to have it as a surprise?’ Mya asked. ‘You want me to distract her?’ She’d be happy to sneak Lauren out and be there for the big surprise moment.

But he was shaking his head. ‘I want you to organise it.’

Mya’s enthusiasm burst like a kid’s balloon encountering the prick of a needle. Of course he did. He had to have this party but she’d be the one copping all the extra work to get it ready? Her ego suffered another blow—and more importantly she just didn’t have the time to do it. ‘Isn’t partying your area of expertise?’

‘Darling, I’ve never planned a party. I am the party.’ He mimicked her emphasis.

‘Oh, please.’

‘Who better to arrange it than my sister’s best friend? I said I’ll hire you. You’ll be paid.’

She bridled. ‘I’m not taking money from you. I’m her friend.’ The thought of him paying for her services irked her. She’d always put in an honest day’s work but the thought of Brad owning her time spiked her hackles.

‘I’ll get in a planner instead.’ He shrugged.

Now she was even more ticked. He was too used to getting everything his own way. ‘You think you can just throw some money on the table and have some flash event happen? Lauren wouldn’t want some impersonal, chic party put together by cutesy PR girls she doesn’t even know.’ Mya shook her head. ‘Wouldn’t it mean more to her if you put in some personal effort? She doesn’t like cookie-cutter perfection.’ Lauren had had so many things bought for her—by impersonal secretaries. She liked the individual—that was part of what had drawn her and Mya so close.

He looked sceptical. ‘You think I should choose the colour scheme and the canapés?’

‘Why not?’ she asked blandly.

‘You’re not tempted by an unlimited budget and licence to do anything? Most women would love that, right?’

‘I’m not like most women. Nor is Lauren. You should organise it—it’s your idea.’ She sent him a cutting glance. ‘Or are you too selfish to spend time on her?’

He laughed. ‘Sweetheart, every human on this planet is selfish,’ he said. ‘We all do what’s ultimately best for ourselves. I am doing this for very selfish reasons and not many of them to do with Lauren herself. It’s mainly so I don’t have to deal with my mother’s hand-wringing and a frozen dinner out with my parents to celebrate Lauren’s graduation. And so you don’t get in trouble with your boss and take it out on me. Does that make me a bad person?’

Heat ricocheted round her body like a jet of boiling oil as she saw the intense look in his eye. He didn’t want her to think badly of him? And he was doing this to prevent her from getting in trouble. ‘No,’ she conceded.

‘You have to help me,’ he said softly.

That was one step too far. ‘We wouldn’t be in this position if you hadn’t kissed me.’ She tried to argue back but felt herself slipping. ‘You created this problem. You don’t need me.’

‘Do I have the names and numbers of half her friends? No. I don’t know all her university mates the way you do. Of course I need your help.’

Silent, she looked at him.

‘I’m thinking of Lauren. Are you?’ he jeered.

She sighed. ‘For Lauren’s sake, I’ll help. But you’re not paying me.’

‘What a good friend you are,’ he teased.

‘I am, actually,’ she declared.

‘We all do what is best for ourselves,’ he murmured with a shake of his head. ‘Wasn’t insisting I be actively involved in the planning really because you wanted to spend more time with me?’

She gaped—how did he turn that one around? ‘No. I’m only thinking of Lauren.’ She vehemently denied that tendril of excitement curling through her innards at the thought of spending time with him. He had an outsize ego that needed stripping. ‘You think you’re irresistible, don’t you?’

‘Experience has led me to believe that’s often the case.’

His eyes were glinting. He might be laughing, but she suspected part of him meant it. Outrageous wasn’t the word. The guy needed taking down a peg or forty. ‘Not in this case.’

‘No?’ He chuckled, radiating good humour. ‘So that blush is pure annoyance? Then you’ve nothing to worry about, right? We can organise Lauren’s party together because you can resist me no problem.’

Could she resist him? For a second Mya wondered and then her fighting spirit came to the fore. Of course she could. ‘No problem at all.’

He leaned closer. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t seen much of you in recent years.’

‘Maybe you should have turned up to a couple of Lauren’s birthday parties.’

He winced, hand to his chest. ‘I was overseas.’

She knew he’d studied further overseas before coming back and setting up his own practice. ‘So convenient. For work, was it? You learned well from your father.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Doesn’t he use work for emotional avoidance too? Earns millions to buy the things to make up for it.’ Lauren had been given so many things and none of them what she’d truly yearned for.

The laughing glint vanished from Brad’s eyes. ‘Formed a few judgments over the years, haven’t you?’

Mya realised she might have gone more than a little far. ‘I’m sorry, that was out of line. I’ll always be grateful for the kindness your parents showed me,’ she said stiltedly, embarrassed at her rudeness.

But he laughed again, the devil dancing back in his eyes. ‘Their kindness?’

Okay, maybe he did remember the ultra-frosty welcome she’d got for the first year or three that she and Lauren hung out. ‘They didn’t ban me from their home.’ Even though she knew they’d wanted to. Now they realised they owed Mya something.

‘Don’t worry about it. I know even better than you what a mess it was.’

He’d certainly left home the second he could. Mya had been the one who’d spent every afternoon after school with Lauren in that house. She and Lauren hid up in Lauren’s suite, laughing and ignoring the frozen misery downstairs. The false image of the perfect family. ‘But Lauren’s the one who’s made the conscious effort to be different from how she was raised.’

‘You’re saying I’ve not?’

Mya shrugged. ‘You’re the mini-me lawyer.’

‘You do know my father and I practise vastly different types of law. I’m not in his firm.’

Blandly she picked up a glass and polished it. That didn’t mean anything.

‘What, all lawyers are the same?’ He snorted. ‘I don’t do anything he does. I work with kids.’

She knew this, and at this precise moment she point-blank refused to be impressed by it. ‘You think your save-the-children heroic-lawyer act somehow ameliorates your womanising ways?’ Because Brad was a womaniser. Just like his father.

‘Doesn’t it?’

See, he didn’t even deny the charge. ‘You think? Yeah, that’s probably why you do child advocacy,’ she mused. ‘To score the chicks by showing your sensitive side.’

He laughed, a loud burst of genuine humour that had her smiling back in automatic response.

‘That’s an interesting take. I’ve never really thought about it that way.’ He shrugged. ‘But even if it does give me some chick-points, at least I’ve done something with my life that’s useful. Is igniting alcohol for party boys useful?’

She shifted uncomfortably. Serving drinks was a means to an end. But she managed a smooth reply. ‘Helping people relax is a skill.’

His brows shot up. ‘I’m not sure you’re that good at helping guys relax.’

She met his gaze and felt the intensity pull between them again.

‘Are you still at university or are you finished now?’ He broke the silence, looking down and toying with the pile of postcards on the edge of the bar.

‘I’m there part-time this year.’

‘Studying what?’

‘A double degree. Law and commerce.’

‘Law and commerce?’ he repeated. ‘So you’re going to become a greedy capitalist like my evil father and me?’ He laughed. She didn’t blame him, given her stabbing disapproval mere seconds ago. ‘You’re enjoying it?’

‘Of course,’ she said stiffly.

‘And the plan?’

‘A job in one of the top-five firms, of course.’

‘Speciality?’

‘Corporate.’

‘You mean like banking? Counting beans? Helping companies raid others and earning yourself wads of cash in the process?’

‘Nothing wrong with wanting to earn a decent wage in a job where you can sit down.’ She walked away to serve the customers she’d been ignoring too long. Her need to achieve wasn’t something trust-fund-son over there could understand. She needed money—not for a giant flat-screen TV and a house with a lap-pool and overseas jaunts. She needed a new house, yes, but not for herself. For her parents.

She was conscious of his gaze still on her as he sat now nursing something non-alcoholic and taking in the scene. As she glanced over, she saw his eyes held a hint of bleak strain. Was it possible that behind the playboy façade, the guy was actually tired?

But he didn’t leave. Even when the bar got quieter and they’d turned the music down a notch. In another ten minutes the lights would brighten to encourage the stragglers out of the dark corners. Mya felt him watching her, felt her fingers go butter-slippery. She kept thinking about the kiss; heat came in waves—when memory swept over control. She couldn’t stay away when he signalled her over to his end of the bar.

‘I’ve been thinking about the drinks for Lauren’s party,’ he said easily. ‘It would be good to offer something different, right? Not just the usual.’

So that was why he was still sitting there? He was party planning? Not surreptitiously watching her at all?

‘There you go, see?’ Mya said brightly, masking how deflated she suddenly felt. ‘You’ll organise a brilliant party. You don’t need me.’

‘I need your expertise,’ he countered blandly. ‘I don’t think I can ignite alcohol.’

No, but he could ignite other things with a mere look. Mya pulled her head together and focused on the task at hand. ‘You want me to come up with a couple of Lauren-inspired cocktails?’

‘They’re the house speciality, right? So, yeah, make up some new ones, give them a cute name, we’ll put them up on the blackboard.’ He chuckled. ‘Something that’ll be good fun to watch the bartender make. Definitely use a bit of fire.’

‘And ice,’ she answered, then turned away to scoop crushed ice into a glass and wished she could put herself in with it. How could she be this hot? Maybe it was a bug?

‘What would you use to make her cocktail?’ he asked idly. ‘What kind of spirit is Lauren?’

She took the question seriously. ‘Classic bones, quirky overtones. A combination that you wouldn’t expect.’

She turned her back to him and looked at the rows and rows of gleaming bottles. Reached up and grabbed a few and put them on the bar beside Brad. Then she poured. ‘Her cocktail would need to be layered.’ Carefully she bent and made sure each layer sat properly on the next. ‘Unexpected but delicious.’ She smiled to herself as she added a few drops of another few things. Then she straightened and looked at him expectantly.

He just held her gaze.

Finally she broke the silence. ‘You don’t want to try it?’

He studied the vivid blue, orange and green liquid in the glass in front of him. ‘Not unless you try it first. It looks like poison to me. Too many ingredients.’

‘I don’t drink on the job.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘Are you too scared?’

‘Don’t think you can goad me into doing what you want,’ he said softly. But he picked up the glass and took a small sip. He inhaled deeply after swallowing the liquid fire. ‘That’s surprisingly good.’

‘Yes,’ Mya said smugly. ‘Just like Lauren.’

He grinned his appreciation. ‘All right, clever clogs, what cocktail would you put together for me?’

Oh, that was easy. She picked up a bottle and put it on the bar.

He stared at it, aghast. ‘You’re calling me a boring old malt?’

‘It needs nothing else. Overpowering enough on its own.’

‘Well, you’re wrong. There’s another like that that’s more me than a single malt.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Tequila. Lethal, best with a little salt and a twist of something tart like one of your lemons.’

She rolled her eyes.

‘And what are you?’ He laughed. ‘Brandy? Vodka? Maudlin gin?’

‘None. I don’t have time.’

‘You should make time. You shouldn’t work so hard.’

‘Needs must.’ She shrugged it off lightly. ‘And you have to leave now so I can close up the bar.’

‘Have lunch with me tomorrow. We can brainstorm ideas.’

She should have said yes to organising the party on her own. Why had she thought he ought to have active involvement? ‘I’m at class tomorrow. I’m doing summer school.’ She’d be in summer school for the next three years.

‘Okay, breakfast, then.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m working.’

‘This place is open all night?’ His brows lifted.

‘I work in a café in the mornings and some other shifts that fit around my classes and the bar work.’

‘And you work here every night?’

‘Not on Sundays.’

‘Where do you work on a Sunday—the café?’

She nodded, looking up in time to see his quick frown. She rolled her eyes. Yes, she worked hard; that was what people did when they had to. Eating was essential after all.

‘Why didn’t you take a summer internship?’

She turned and put all the bottles back in their places on the shelves. The summer internships at prestigious law firms in the city were sought after. Often they led to permanent job offers once degrees were completed. But she wasn’t going there again, not until her final year of study and she’d recovered her grade average. Not to mention her dignity. ‘I need to keep going with my studies and, believe it or not, I earn more in the bar.’

‘You get good tips?’

‘Really good.’ She rinsed her hands again and wiped down the bench.

‘You might get more if you let some more of that red lace stuff show.’ He glanced down the bar. ‘One thing we are going to do for the party is have better bartender outfits. You’d never guess what you wear beneath the undertaker’s uniform you’ve got going on in here.’

Heat scorched her cheeks again. Once again, why had she picked that wretched scarlet bikini? He was never going to let her forget it. ‘This is what we all wear in the bar. It’s simple, efficient and looks smart.’

‘It’s deadly dull and doesn’t make the most of your assets. Not like that red underneath it.’

‘It’s not underneath it.’

‘You took it off?’ He looked appalled. ‘Why on earth did you take it off?’

‘It was a bikini,’ she said, goaded. She closed her eyes and breathed deep to stop herself laughing. His wicked smile suggested he knew she was close to it anyway. She looked at him. Not at all sorry he had to shell out however many tens of thousands to hire the most popular bar in town outright for a night during the busiest time of the year.

‘Why do men get so fixated on lacy underwear?’ she asked aloud. ‘Don’t you know sexy underwear is no indicator of how far a woman is prepared to go?’

‘You’re saying you’ll go further than what your boring day-bra might indicate?’ he said mildly.

‘No!’ she snapped.

‘So you do wear boring day-bras?’

Oh, the guy was incorrigible. But, heaven help her, she couldn’t help but laugh. So she’d see him some saucy talk, and raise him some flirt. She nodded with a secret smile. ‘No lace.’