Trish Morey - Escape By The Sea

‘No!’ she said, knowing she was making a hash of it, knowing he was laughing at her. ‘That’s not my point at all. I just don’t understand why you’re in the situation where you need to pretend. How is it that a man with clearly such great appeal to women hasn’t got a wife or a fiancée or even a serious girlfriend? How is that possible?’

The smile slipped as he pushed away from the wall, moving closer, the menacing glint in his eyes putting her on sudden alert. ‘Maybe,’ he said, drawing near, touching his fingers to her brow, tracing a line south, ‘it’s because there is no lack of women willing to share my bed. What is that delightful saying? Why buy a book when you can join a library?’

She stood stock-still, resisting the tremors set off by his merest touch, hating the smug look on his face, forcing a smile to hers. ‘Well, the loan on this particular book just expired. Goodnight, Leo.’

He let her go, at least as far as the door.

‘Evelyn.’

She halted, put her hand on the doorframe to stop herself swaying, and without turning around said, ‘Yes?’

‘Something I tell all the women I spend time with. Something I thought you might have understood, although, given your questions, maybe you need to hear it too.’

She looked over her shoulder, curious about what it was he told his ‘women’, what he thought she needed to hear. ‘Yes?’

‘I like women. I like sex. But that’s where it starts and finishes. Because I don’t do family. It’s not going to happen.’

This time she took a step towards him, stunned by his sheer arrogance. ‘You think I was on some kind of fishing expedition to work out what my chances were of becoming Mrs Leo Zamos for real?’

‘You were the one asking the questions.’

‘And I also said I don’t want to see you again. Which part of “I don’t want to see you again” equates to “Please marry me” exactly?’

‘I was just saying—’

‘And I’m saying you needn’t have bothered. I’m not in the market for a husband as it happens, but even if I were, I’m certain I’d prefer someone who didn’t profess to liking women and sex quite so much!’ She turned on her heel and strode through the bedroom, slipping on her heels and picking up her purse, scanning the room for anything she might have left.

‘Evelyn!’

But she didn’t stop until she was through the living room then, turned, one more question to be answered before she left. ‘I’ll understand if you no longer want to retain me as your PA.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I want to keep you.’

She nodded, relieved, suddenly realising how perilously close she’d come to blowing things. ‘All right. All the best with the deal tomorrow. I guess I’ll be hearing from you in due course.’ She offered him her hand, back to brisk, businesslike efficiency, even if she was dealing with a man wearing nothing more than a towel. ‘Thank you for a pleasant evening, Mr Zamos. I’ll see myself out, under the circumstances.’

One eyebrow quirked at the formality but he took her hand, squeezing it gently. ‘It was my pleasure, Evelyn. My pleasure entirely.’

Minutes later, she sank her head back against the plush leather headrest and sighed as the limousine slipped smoothly from the hotel. Better to end this way, she reflected; better that they had argued rather than agreeing to meet again. Better that it had ended now when anything else would merely have been putting off the inevitable.

For it would have ended, nothing surer, and probably as soon as their next meeting. And then Leo would take off in his jet and find another convenient Evelyn somewhere else in the world, and she would be forgotten.

But now they’d claimed their stolen night, the night they’d been cheated out of by conspiring circumstances those years ago, and it had been an amazing night and she’d managed to survive with both some degree of pride and her job intact. But it was for the best that it had ended on a sour note.

Now they could both put it behind them.

SHE grappled with the front-door key, her baby growing heavier by the minute. That or her night of sinful and unfamiliar pleasures had taken it out of her, but the child dozing on her shoulder felt like he’d doubled in size and weight overnight. Then again, maybe he’d just had one too many pancakes. She knew she had. She’d woken this morning after too few hours’ sleep almost ravenous.

She was barely inside the door when the phone started ringing and she picked it up more to shut it up than any desire to talk to whoever was calling. She had less desire to talk when she found out who it was.

‘Evelyn, it’s Leo.’

The sound of his voice sent ripples of pleasure through her, triggering memories formed all too recently to not remember every single sensual detail. She sucked in air, but Leo was the last person she’d expected to call and there was nothing she could think of to say. Hadn’t they said everything that needed to be said last night?

‘Evelyn?’

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the snatches of memory flashing through her mind, the rumble of his murmured words against her thigh, the brush of his whiskered cheek against her skin, his clever tongue…

‘I…I didn’t expect to hear from you.’

‘I didn’t expect to be calling. Look, Evelyn, there’s been a development. Culshaw wants to move the contract discussions to somewhere where the weather suits Maureen better. He suggested we reconvene on his island off North Queensland.’

With the dead-to-the-world weight of her toddler on her shoulder, she battled to work out what it was Leo actually wanted. ‘So you need me to make some bookings? Or do I have to rearrange your schedule?’

‘Neither.’ A pause. ‘I need you to come.’

Sam stirred on her shoulder, his head lolling from one side to the other, and she kissed his head to soothe him. ‘Leo, you know that’s not possible.’

‘Why isn’t it possible?’

‘You said our deal was for one night only and I already told you I wouldn’t meet you again.’

‘But that was before Culshaw came up with this idea.’

‘That’s too bad. I did what we agreed.’ And then, thinking he might better understand it in business-speak, ‘I fulfilled the terms of the contract, Leo, and then some.’

‘So we make a new deal. How much this time, Evelyn?’ he asked, sounding angry now.

‘I told you before, it’s not about the money.’

‘Fifty thousand.’

‘No. I told you, they’re nice people. I don’t want to lie to them any more.’

‘One hundred thousand.’

She looked up at the ceiling, cursing under her breath, trying not to think about what a sum like that would mean to the timing of her renovation plans. She could engage a decent architect, get quotes, maybe landscaping so Sam had a decent play area outside. But it was impossible. ‘No!’

‘Then you won’t come?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘So what am I supposed to tell Culshaw?’

‘It’s your lie, Leo. Tell him what you like. Tell him it’s family reasons, tell him I’m sick, tell him I never was and never will be your fiancée. It’s your call.’ On her shoulder her son grew unsettled, picking up on the vibe in the air, butting his head from side to side against her shoulder, starting to grizzle.

‘What was that?’ Leo demanded.

‘Me about to hang up. Are we finished here? Only it’s not really a convenient time to call.’ Please, God, can we be finished here? she prayed as her muscles burned under Sam’s weight.

‘No. I need…I need some documents to take with me!’

‘Fine,’ she said, sighing, wondering which documents they could possibly be when she was sure she’d provided him with everything he needed already and in triplicate. ‘Let me know which ones and I’ll email them straight away.’