Nicola Marsh - Her Deal with the Devil

If it hadn’t been for Biology during their final year of high school he would have thought she really didn’t like him. But being her lab partner, being forced to work with her, had shown him a different side to Sapphire—one that had almost made him like her.

Because beneath the tough exterior was a diligent, devoted girl who hated to let anyone down. Including him. Probably the only reason she’d put up with him during their assignments.

He admired her unswerving loyalty to her family, her dream to expand Seaborns. Especially when he’d had no aspirations to join Fourde Fashion and all it entailed.

Ironic how, ten years later, he was back in his home city, making Melbourne sit up and take notice of the newly opened Fourde Fashion his priority.

He had a lot to prove to a lot of people—mainly himself—and he’d take Fourde Fashion to the top if he had to wear shot silk and stilettos to do it.

The waitress deposited his espresso on the table and he thanked her—a second before he caught sight of Sapphire leaving Seaborns.

His gut tightened as she glanced his way, her gaze soft and unfocused, almost lost.

Her vulnerability hit him again. He’d never seen her anything less than über-confident and he wondered what—or who—had put the haunted look in her eyes.

She hadn’t caught sight of him so he stood and waved her over.

A slight frown creased her brows as she worried her bottom lip, obviously contemplating how to flee. He took the decision out of her hands by ordering a tall, skinny, extra hot cappuccino with a side of pistachio macaron , loud enough for her to hear.

Her eyes narrowed as she stalked towards him, the yoga pants clinging to her lean legs like a second skin, a pink hoodie hiding the delectable top half he’d already checked out.

Sapphire might be petite, but the way she held herself, the way she strode, made her appear taller. In heels, she was formidable.

He liked the grass-stained purple sneakers with diamante studs better.

‘Care to join me?’ He pulled out a wrought iron chair. ‘I ordered your favourites.’

‘So I heard.’ She frowned, indecisive, as she darted a glance inside. Probably contemplating how to cancel the order without offending. ‘Rather presumptuous.’

He pointed to his espresso. ‘I hate drinking alone.’

‘I’m busy—’

‘Please?’

He tried his best mega-smile—the one she’d never failed to roll her eyes at.

She didn’t disappoint, adding an exasperated huff as she slid onto the seat. ‘Tell me you’re not still using that smile to twist people around your little finger.’

He shrugged. ‘Fine. I won’t tell you.’

‘Does it still work?’

‘You tell me.’ He crooked a finger, beckoning her closer. ‘You’re here, aren’t you?’

‘That’s because I haven’t had my cappa fix this morning.’

‘And you can’t resist anything sweet and French.’

She snorted. ‘Surely you’re not referring to yourself?’

‘I’ve lived in Paris for ten years.’ He leaned towards her, close enough to smell the faint cinnamon peach fragrance of her shampoo—the same one that had clung to his tux jacket after their kiss. ‘And you used to find me irresistibly sweet.’

She pretended to gag and he laughed.

‘Let me guess. You’re trying to impress me by remembering my favourites after all these years?’

‘Not really.’ He pushed around the sugar sachets in the stainless steel container with his fingertip. ‘Hard for a guy to forget when you had the same boring order every time we studied for those stupid Biology spot tests.’

She ignored his ‘boring’ barb. Pity.

‘Remember the plant collection assignment?’ She winced. ‘Just thinking about poison ivy makes me itchy.’

‘Though it wasn’t all bad.’ He edged closer and lowered his voice. ‘As I recall, the human body component in last semester proved highly entertaining.’

Her withering glare radiated disapproval. The arrival of her coffee and macaron saved her from responding.

He let her off the hook. Plenty of time to stroll down memory lane if she wowed him with her presentation, as he expected, and they ended up working together.

It would be interesting, seeing if the old bait and switch that had underpinned their relationship in high school would apply now. If her responses to him so far were any indication, not much had changed. He relished the challenge of making her loosen up. She thrived on proving that anything he said annoyed the crap out of her.

She’d change her attitude if Fourde Fashion brought Sea-borns on board for this campaign. And if that happened he should change his attitude too.

He needed this business venture to thrive, and he needed to be on top of his game to do it. Invincible. And he knew Sapphire could help him do it.

There might not have been so much at stake in high school, bar a pass or fail grade, but he hadn’t forgotten her ability to command and conquer. If she brought half that chutzpah to her presentation tomorrow he had a feeling Fourde Fashion working with Seaborns for Fashion Week couldn’t fail.

And that, in turn, would launch his plans—the ones ensuring the entire fashion world, including his folks, would finally forgive the mistakes of his past and recognise there was more to him than his family name.

‘Fill me in on what you’ve been up to.’

An eyebrow inverted as she stared at him over the rim of her cappuccino glass. ‘In the last decade?’

‘Give me the abbreviated version.’

‘The usual. Taking over the business. Working my butt off to make it thrive.’ Shadows darkened her blue eyes to midnight before she glanced away.

Damn . How dumb could he be? He’d forgotten all about passing on his condolences. ‘Sorry about your mum.’

‘I am too.’ She cradled her coffee glass, determinedly staring into its contents.

‘You must miss her?’

‘Every day.’

With a suddenness that surprised him she placed her glass on the table and jabbed a finger in his direction. ‘Her drive and vivacity and tenaciousness were legendary. And that’s exactly what you’ll get a taste of in my presentation tomorrow.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’

He was surprised by her mood swings: pensive one moment, wary the next. The old Sapphire would never let anyone get under her guard—least of all him.

Which begged the question: what had happened to make her so… edgy ?

‘No significant others?’

A faint pink stained her cheeks again, highlighting the incredible blueness of her eyes—the same shade as the precious stone she was named after.

‘Haven’t had time.’ She picked up her glass again, using it as a security measure. ‘Work keeps me busy.’

‘Will you fling that macaron at me if I quote you the old “all work and no play” angle?’

‘No, because I’ve heard it all before.’ Her fingers clutched the glass so tightly her knuckles stood out. ‘Besides, I play.’

Defensive and nervous. Yep, definitely not the woman he remembered.

‘How?’

She frowned. ‘How what?’

‘How do you play? What do you do for kicks?’

The fact that she screwed up her nose to think and took for ever to answer spoke volumes.

‘You’re a workaholic.’

She puffed up with indignation. ‘I do other stuff.’

‘Like?’

‘Yoga. Pilates. Meditation.’

He laughed, unable to mesh a vision of the long-striding, book-wielding girl going places with an image of Sapphire sitting still long enough to contemplate anything beyond Sea-borns’ profit margins.

‘What’s so funny?’

He shrugged and stirred his espresso. ‘You’re different than how I remember.’