Daphne Clair - Infamous Bargain

‘I’ll book us a table,’ he said. ‘Pick you up at seven, OK?’

She wanted to tell him no, it wasn’t OK at all. But Laura’s disquiet had communicated itself to her. She hesitated and was lost.

‘See you then,’ Kynan said. And she was left holding the phone, with the dialling tone humming in her ear.

* * *

She wore an apricot wild silk jacket over a flowered skirt and soft jade green blouse, and put on the highest heels in her wardrobe, remembering that Kynan Roth was a tall man. She didn’t want him towering over her.

He arrived promptly and she opened the door to him herself. Laura had already served a meal for herself and Xavier, and they were watching a favourite programme in the TV room. ‘Briar’s going out with Kynan Roth,’ Laura had told Xavier brightly.

Watching her father’s face, Briar thought he seemed almost disconcerted. Then he’d said, a shade too loudly, ‘Well, that’s nice, Briar. Must have taken a fancy to you.’

* * *

Kynan ushered her into the passenger seat of a shiny dark blue car. He had manners, if nothing else, she reflected. And quickly amended that—as well as everything else. Money, good looks, power, and the sex appeal that went with them. All the superficial advantages were his.

And superficial they were, she reminded herself as he slid into the driver’s seat, smiling at her before starting the engine. There were more important qualities that she looked for in a man. Compassion, kindness, understanding, the capacity to love, and a sense of humour.

He had that last, but she wasn’t sure if there was any warmth or gentleness behind it. An ability to laugh at others didn’t necessarily go with an equal willingness to laugh at oneself.

She concentrated on the view from the side-window—the big, rambling old houses and professional buildings lining Remuera Road. But as Kynan stopped for a red light she peeped speculatively at his profile, eyeing the jutting nose and strong chin.

He turned as though he’d felt her gaze, and asked, ‘What’s that for?’

‘What?’ She looked away, watching a woman walk by on the pavement with a Siamese cat on a leash.

‘That look you just gave me,’ he said.

‘I was wondering if you can laugh at yourself.’ She raised her chin and met his eyes.

‘Think I can’t?’ He stared back at her.

Behind them a horn tooted gently. ‘The light’s changed,’ she told him.

He gave the other driver a wave, and sent the car gliding over the intersection. Picking up speed, he kept his eyes on the road and the traffic. ‘You didn’t seem to think I was particularly funny,’ he said, ‘last night.’

Last night she’d thought he was particularly insulting. ‘I wasn’t thinking of last night. Just...in general.’

‘Well...’ He slanted her a glance. ‘Perhaps you’ll find out, in time.’

Which suggested that they’d be seeing each other again after tonight.

They cruised through the Newmarket shopping area, and then crested a hill and drove past the colonial-style shops and trendy eating places in Parnell village. He didn’t speak again until they reached the restaurant down near the harbour, and he let her out of the car.

Briar half expected him to take over ordering her meal for her. Instead he allowed her to make her own choice and consulted her preference before deciding on the wine. The restaurant was crowded, but their table, lit by a single candle and discreetly dim wall-lighting, was screened by a couple of plants and a trellised partition, and next to a window overlooking a glimpse of the Waitemata Harbour. She wondered if he’d asked for it specially. ‘Have you been here before?’ she asked him.

‘Once. The food’s good. And the service.’

‘And the view.’ The darkened water reflected the lights of the city near the shore. Further out the moonlight had washed it with a subtle silvery patina. ‘It’s lovely.’

‘Mm-hmm.’ But when she looked back, his eyes were on her face. ‘You’re looking wonderful tonight,’ he said. ‘I’ve been telling myself all day you couldn’t be as beautiful as I remembered.’

‘I...thank you.’ She wasn’t unaccustomed to compliments. She’d travelled in Italy and France, and the men there weren’t backward in their comments on a woman’s appearance. But she was oddly flustered now. He didn’t sound admiring, but rather as if he was reporting a fact, almost clinically detached.

He said, ‘I’ve never seen eyes that colour before. Like moonlight on water.’

Instinctively she glanced out at the moonlit harbour, and returned her gaze to his in frank disbelief.

Kynan looked briefly out at the view, too. ‘Not quite the same, I admit. They remind me of nightfall in the Islands.’

Briar gave a little laugh.

‘What’s funny?’

‘My eyeshadow,’ she said, ‘is called “Tropic Dusk”.’

‘It’s a perfect description.’ He leaned over and brushed a finger very lightly over her eyelid. ‘I didn’t realise you were wearing shadow.’ He looked at the faint smudge on his finger and his eyes gleamed as he raised them again to hers.

She studied the starched white tablecloth, fiddled with a polished silver fork, and lifted a hand nervously to brush a strand of hair from her cheek.

‘Tell me about yourself,’ he invited.

‘What, everything?’ She looked up. She wasn’t shy or nervous, normally. He was only a man, and she’d had dealings with equally sophisticated men before, just as handsome, just as sure of themselves. Well, almost.

‘Where did you go to school?’ he asked. ‘Diocesan?’

Briar grimaced. ‘How did you guess?’

He laughed. ‘It isn’t hard, is it?’

Given what he knew or had guessed of her background, Briar had to admit it wasn’t. Xavier had always gone for the best. The most socially acceptable.

‘And after that—what?’ he asked, and answered for her, ‘University, right?’

‘Right,’ Briar conceded.

‘And a Bachelor of Arts degree, which you got easily.’

‘Am I that predictable?’

‘And then...you did your Overseas Experience. Along with a couple of girlfriends. Or a boyfriend.’

‘I went with a group of both sexes.’

‘Anyone special, for you?’

‘We made a pact before we left. No pairings. We had a great time, without hassles or emotional tangles.’

‘Where did you go?’

This was safe ground. She talked about her travels until their food arrived, and then asked if he’d done much travelling himself.

‘Closer to home, mostly. I crewed on a schooner round the Pacific Islands when I was younger.’

That was interesting, and she plied him with questions while they finished their dinner. And discovered that he did have an ability to laugh at himself—at least at his younger self, fighting seasickness in a mid-ocean squall, being the butt of a practical joke involving a fake shark fin in a lagoon in the Cook Islands, falling from a coconut palm when he tried to emulate the Fijians who climbed to the top with deceptive ease.

‘Were you hurt?’ she asked him.

‘Fortunately the sand was soft. I bruised my ego, that’s all. And took some teasing about it afterwards.’ He pushed his plate aside. ‘You don’t eat sweets, do you?’

‘Sometimes. I’d prefer cheese tonight, but don’t let me stop you.’

He shook his head. ‘I’ll join you. A cheese board,’ he said to the waiter who had appeared to take their plates. ‘And then coffee?’ He looked at Briar enquiringly.

‘Yes, thank you.’

Cutting herself a wedge of pale, delicately flavoured havarti, she asked, ‘So how do you become an investor? My father said you’d inherited a manufacturing company.’

He was placing a slice of gruyre on a cracker. When he looked up she thought he seemed wary. ‘My father’s firm made parts for ship-building. When he took over it already had a healthy profile. He expanded the base, used the profits to buy up various companies in related fields. His business judgement was impeccable.’ A bitter expression crossed his face, so fleetingly that Briar decided she’d imagined it.