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‘Or something.’
‘By that you mean wealthy.’ She shoots me a cutting glance. ‘So what? In Queenstown every other customer is an arrogant billionaire. Which sort are you? Tech? Rural? Some sort of amazing eco-friendly attire?’ Her gaze rakes over my suit. ‘Snowboard champion?’
‘Property development,’ I mutter.
She doesn’t look impressed. ‘Hotels?’
‘Apartments.’ I don’t know why I’m suddenly like a schoolboy struggling to impress the girl he fancies on the bus.
‘Good for you.’ She shrugs dismissively.
‘You’d prefer I was an...entertainer?’
She pauses. ‘Well...’ Her voice drops. ‘It does seem like a waste of your other assets.’
I’m so shocked I can only stare as that husky little sass repeats in my head. Desire paralyses me. The images in my head—how I could use the ‘assets’ she’s thinking of—are shockingly inappropriate. I don’t lose control of myself like this. Definitely not in public. I blink, needing to distract myself before this very crowded room sees the effect this woman has on me. My gaze drops and I see the latte she’s made for Simone. I’ve seen fancy patterns on top of frothy milk before, but this one is particularly artistic with a highly detailed bird hovering over a flower.
‘That’s amazing,’ I mutter hoarsely.
‘Yes.’ She glances up and looks me directly in the eyes. ‘Tastes even better.’
I’m gone. Brain dead. Body slammed. Stunned into silence. I don’t respond at all. Where did this vixen come from? I’ve been hit on more times than I can remember but this tiny attempt has me sizzling in a way I can’t handle. I recall the moments in that storeroom where she was pressed against me. I want that again. I’m all but overpowered by the urge to toss her over my shoulder and carry her back there to finish what we started.
But I don’t. I can’t. I remain still and silent. Struggling to process, to regain control of myself. It takes too long. Belatedly I realise a flush has swept over her face. Before I can think to respond or am able to un-gum my mouth, she drops her gaze. Swiftly she sets the coffees on a small tray. Distractedly I notice other differences between my small, plain drink and Simone’s.
‘Don’t I get a cookie too?’ I ask feebly.
It’s too late. She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t look me in the eyes. Since when was I so incompetent with a woman? I follow her like a redundant fool. She’s mortified. Even the tips of her ears are scarlet. I slip back into my seat.
‘Have you been giving her a hard time?’ Simone asks quietly as I watch Talia march back across the room—stiff-backed, scarlet-cheeked.
Not the kind of hard time I want to give her, no.
‘She’s not your usual type,’ Simone adds speculatively.
‘Surely you don’t think I have a singular type.’ I sip my scalding coffee to hide the frustration overflowing within me but I can’t lift my attention from Talia.
Simone’s tone warms with exasperated amusement. ‘Aren’t you ever going to settle down?’
‘Surely you don’t need to ask that.’
Because it was Simone who pulled up to my boarding school and helped me escape one of the worst moments of my life—the media intrusion and the shock of secrets kept from me until it was too late. She knows how I was caught in the midst of an emotional massacre and that I’ll never accept the blistering bonds of a committed relationship myself.
‘No,’ Simone acknowledges. ‘But you’re never obvious in public. This is intriguing.’
But I haven’t felt temptation like this. Or such uncertainty. I don’t usually have to work for it.
I tear my gaze from Talia to focus on Simone—she’s the reason I’m here, after all, and Talia was right, Simone is one of the good ones. ‘I’m sorry. It’s your birthday.’ I pull a small box from my pocket and put it on the table between us.
Simone all but shimmers. ‘Is it a pen to sign the investment papers?’
I laugh at her persistence. ‘You know any deal will be negotiated in the office.’
But I remind her gently because Simone tried to help me all those years ago. A close friend of my grandfather, she disapproved of him keeping secrets from me. And she was the only one to take action when the press found out he was terminal.
‘I promise I’ll look at it properly tomorrow,’ I add with a smile. ‘I’ll be there at nine.’
I enjoy the coffee and the dessert and talk to Simone and several of her guests. I also enjoy watching Talia care for the guests. That she’s determined not to look in my direction is actually reassuring. She’s as aware of me as I am of her and I just need another moment with her. Alone.
