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The Sweetest Revenge
Emma Darcy
Power, passion, possession… Barbie Lamb is on a mission. The plan:1) Arrive at Nick Armstrong’s 30th birthday looking so fabulous his jaw drops.2) Use a fake identity to mask their past connection and seduce him.3) Leave him wanting more.Not in the plan:1) Fall back in love with the same guy who broke her heart years before.Nick can’t believe that the gorgeous woman before him is the same girl he once knew. But why is she using a different name? If she wants to play games…all right – he’ll play. But she’ll have to play by his rules…
About the Author
Initially a French/English teacher, EMMA DARCY changed careers to computer programming before the happy demands of marriage and motherhood. Very much a people person, and always interested in relationships, she finds the world of romance fiction a thrilling one, and the challenge of creating her own cast of characters very addictive.
Recent titles by the same author:
THE INCORRIGIBLE PLAYBOY
AN OFFER SHE CAN’T REFUSE
THE COSTARELLA CONTRACT
HIDDEN MISTRESS, PUBLIC WIFE
Did you know these are also available as eBooks?Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
The Sweetest
Revenge
Emma Darcy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE
MONDAY morning, and as usual, the staff of Multi-Media Promotions was abuzz with the swapping of weekend news before everyone settled down to work. Nick Armstrong exchanged only brief greetings as he strode to his private office, trailed by his friend and business partner, Leon Webster. The moment his door was shut, he released his pent-up anger to the one person who should understand his situation.
‘You know what Tanya said to me on Saturday, after I’d called off our planned outing once again?’ he exploded.
‘Something undoubtedly designed to cut you off at the knees,’ came the voice of experience.
Nick grimaced, remembering that Leon had just been through a nasty break-up with a live-in girlfriend. ‘She said what I really wanted was a toy doll whose feelings wouldn’t be hurt from being left on a shelf until I had time for playing.’
‘Sounds good! A toy doll wouldn’t nag.’
‘Better still, a fairy princess doll …’
‘Yep. Beautiful, glamorous, long blond hair, sparkling eyes, a smile to warm a man’s heart …’
‘…with a magic wand that would give me the energy to be the kind of lover that even a plastic toy would expect of a man.’
‘Oooh … we’re getting into kinky stuff here.’
‘Leon, this is serious. And we are going to have a serious discussion.’
Eyebrows lifted mockingly. ‘About women?’
‘About business.’ Nick glowered at his friend as he rounded the desk and dropped into his chair. ‘Take a seat. And wipe that smirk off your face. This is deadly serious.’
‘The man is wounded,’ Leon muttered, settling into a chair with a mournful expression. Seeing Nick’s irritation, he made an effort to present a suitably serious countenance.
It was dangerous to rile Nick in this mood. He was the darkly brooding type—a creative genius and a computer whiz from way back—and he often needed lightening up, but this was not the moment, Leon decided.
They were opposites in many ways. Even in looks. Nick—tall, black-haired, blue-eyed, had a face and body that were stamped with masculine strength, both physical and mental. Oddly enough, Leon never felt diminished by him. While he himself was only average height and his colouring wasn’t so dramatic, having fairish brown hair and brown eyes, he had the gift of the gab and could attract any woman he wanted.
They made a great team—the design king and the salesman—and Leon was not about to allow anything to disturb it. Besides which, his partner’s mental well-being was of paramount importance to their success.
‘Business!’ Nick tapped the desk with a strong index finger for emphasis. ‘You know how much the Internet stuff has taken off, Leon. I’m snowed under. I need two more graphic designers to help take the load.’
‘That will cut into our profits,’ he cautioned.
‘I need a life, too,’ Nick bit out.
Leon rolled his eyes. ‘Just because Tanya got in a snit over not getting your undivided attention? She doesn’t own you, Nick, and take it from me …’
Blue lightning flashed straight back at him. ‘I take a lot from you, Leon. You’re a fantastic salesman and we’re doing great, but I will not work to this pressure anymore.’
Hands instantly lifted into a truce position. ‘Okay, okay,’ he soothed. ‘So long as this is you talking and not Tanya. You always said if we worked like dogs until we’re thirty …’
‘I’m thirty next week. Both of us pocketed over five million dollars last year …’
‘And may well pocket twice that this year.’
‘But we’ve paid a price for it. You lost Liz …’
‘There you go, bringing women into it …’
‘Damn it, Leon! I want a life beyond work, even if you don’t. I’m thirty next week. Enough’s enough. I need more staff.’
‘Okay, okay. I’ll ask around. Head-hunt someone good for you.’
Nick held up two fingers.
Leon sighed. Two more salaries to pay. ‘So we’ll get someone good and one out of design school to be trained. How’s that?’
‘Cheapskate.’
‘Not at all. Common sense to train them our way. You know that, Nick.’
Nick privately conceded the point, but was not about to relax his stance on the issue. ‘Get right onto it, Leon. And don’t be giving me any delay tactics. I don’t care what it costs. It will cost a damned sight more if I reach burnout.’
‘Don’t mention that word!’ Horror-struck, Leon jackknifed from his chair. ‘Your wish is my command, dear boy. I shall go forth this moment and head-hunt.’
‘A trainee, as well.’
‘No problem. They’ll be storming the portals to get in here.’ He strode to the door and paused, looking back with cynical eyes. ‘I bet Tanya is still coming to your birthday bash. She likes what our money can buy. Don’t forget that when she turns the screws again.’
‘Business, Leon,’ Nick tersely reminded him, and he went.
On edge, disgruntled with his world, Nick turned to his computer, switched it on, and tried to settle himself to work. But Leon’s words stuck in his mind. The flaming row he’d had with Tanya had ended with her saying that the party would be his last chance with her. If he hadn’t made some move to reorganise his life …
His lips thinned. She’d gone too far, expecting him to order his life to suit her. It wasn’t as if he was being unfaithful, taking out other women on the side. And she certainly didn’t mind him spending the big money he earned, always asking him to take her to the most fashionable restaurants and get the best seats at the live shows she wanted to see. Leon was right about her suckering him for all he could give.
Not that it was an overly disturbing factor. What was money for, anyway, if not to buy life’s pleasures? Except Tanya wasn’t delivering much in the way of pleasure herself. In fact, she was becoming an unreasonable nag, picking fights at the end of the night which inevitably turned him off wanting to have sex with her. It wasn’t so much energy he lacked, but desire.
His last chance …
He had a good mind to finish it before the party, which of course she didn’t want to miss. Who would? Leon had organised a marquee on Observatory Hill overlooking Sydney Harbour, a hot jazz band, top caterers. All the young successful men who were making their mark in business would be there for her to cast her eyes over.
Let her, Nick thought grimly.
Maybe he would cast his eyes around, too. There had to be someone who’d be more amenable to his needs … who wouldn’t mind occupying her own shelf while he dealt with the stimulating challenge of business. He could certainly do without an unreasonable nag.
Leon headed for his own private office, hoping he’d just spiked Tanya’s guns with that last comment—selfish trouble-making bitch. She pumped Nick for all he was worth and never gave anything back, as far as Leon could see. Maybe he should rope in some hot party girls for Nick’s birthday bash, show him there were many more fish in the sea, fish that would only be too happy to swim with him without kicking up a storm.
Better still ….
Leon smiled.
Why not a fairy princess doll? With a magic wand that would turn Tanya Wells into an ugly croaking frog.
The smile broadened to a gleeful grin.
‘Party Poppers,’ Sue Olsen announced brightly, tucking the telephone receiver on her shoulder as she reached for pad and pen, hopeful of a lucrative booking. ‘How may we pop for you?’
‘You supply acts for birthday parties?’ a male voice answered.
‘Yes, indeed, sir. What do you have in mind? We have The Singing Sunflowers, The Cuddly Animal Farm, The Jellybean …’
‘I want a fairy princess with a magic wand to sing ‘‘Happy Birthday’’ and sprinkle some sparkle around,’ came the decisive demand.
Sue grinned at her friend and business partner, Barbie Lamb, who still felt ragged from yesterday’s clown act for thirty screaming five-year-olds. ‘We have the perfect fairy princess for you,’ she answered with proud confidence.
Barbie rolled tired eyes at Sue. Clearly she needed a sprinkle of magic dust herself to raise some enthusiasm this morning. Four children’s parties over the weekend was a heavy schedule and a huge energy-sucker. On the bright side, the fairy princess job would be a breeze for her, much easier to carry off than the clown act.
‘What date are we looking at?’ Sue inquired of the caller.
‘I want to be sure of the goods first,’ came the wary reply. ‘Perfect, you said. I need beautiful …’
‘Absolutely beautiful,’ Sue assured him, grinning at Barbie.
‘Long blond hair? All loose … like flowing around her shoulders?’
‘That describes her hair exactly.’
‘It’s not a wig? A wig won’t do.’
‘I promise you it’s not a wig.’
‘Fine. What about her smile? Good teeth? A big warm smile?’
‘A dazzling smile. Any dentist would be proud of her.’
‘Dazzling, huh? Well, that fits the bill so far. How tall is she?’
‘Tall?’ Sue frowned over this requirement.
‘I don’t want a midget. I mean, we’re not talking a dressed-up kid here, are we?’
‘No. Our fairy princess is a beautiful young woman, taller than average but not quite model height.’
Barbie pulled a face, distorting her lovely features, baring her teeth and raking out her hair to produce her Wicked Witch of the West look. Sue poked out her tongue.
‘Great!’ her caller enthused. ‘This is sounding good. Just one more question. How does her figure rate?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Her figure. You know … curves in the right places?’
‘Uh-huh,’ Sue said non-committally, waiting to see how far he would go on this contentious point.
‘A skinny rake won’t do,’ he stated emphatically. ‘If she’s got sexy curves, that’s the ticket.’
‘Hmm …’ Sexy set off alarm bells in Sue’s mind and raised a nasty suspicion. They did occasionally get weirdo calls. Time to nail this one down. ‘Is this booking for a children’s party, sir?’
‘No. No kids at this party.’
‘Would this happen to be a bucks’ night?’ Sue asked sweetly, ready to pour acid on the idea.
‘Believe me. Weddings are not in the air,’ he answered sardonically. ‘This is a big party for my friend’s thirtieth birthday and I want this act as a special surprise for him.’
‘Will there be women as well as men in attendance?’
‘There most certainly will. You could say the bachelors and spinsters of the social-climbing crème of Sydney society will be there. Nothing secret or closeted about this party, I assure you,’ he added, catching the wary drift of her questions. ‘Very public. It’s to be held in a marquee on Observatory Hill.’
‘I see.’ Opportunity leapt to the fore in Sue’s thinking. A bunch of eligible bachelors on the loose was an attractive proposition. ‘Well, I would have to insist on accompanying my fairy princess to ensure she isn’t subjected to any … shall we say, indignities?’
‘No problem. You’re welcome to join in the party afterwards,’ he offered, striking precisely the bargain Sue had been angling for. ‘I take it she does look sexy,’ he added, wanting confirmation.
Caution dictated Sue’s reply. ‘Her figure is definitely curvy in all the right proportions. But I wouldn’t want anyone to get any wrong ideas about why she’s there. This is simply a fairy princess appearance to sing ‘‘Happy Birthday.’’ Correct?’
‘Spot-on. Oh! Forgot to ask. Can she sing? I mean … really sing.’
‘She has toured the country as a professional entertainer. Good enough?’
‘Fabulous!’
This is going to cost you big, Mister, Sue decided, as she proceeded to get party details and settle on the fee, which she enterprisingly quadrupled for both herself and Barbie since it was an after-hours’ engagement … plus danger money. Not that she thought there was any real danger in it but she felt such a consideration was easily justified.
Barbie was stunned at the outrageous fee Sue was demanding for this gig. No problem about making a profit next week, she thought gratefully. Ever since they’d started Party Poppers, they’d been battling to make ends meet, but at least it brought in more regular work than their Country and Western act, and they were settled back in Sydney. Travelling around the country-club circuit had been fun but not exactly financially rewarding.
However, listening to Sue talking on the phone, it was clear the engagement she was arranging was not about entertaining children at all. It sounded somewhat dodgy. Admittedly running a car and paying the rent on this two-bedroom apartment in Ryde, not to mention buying food and paying other bills, meant they couldn’t look a gift-horse in the mouth, but …
The telephone receiver clattered down. ‘Got it!’ Sue cried triumphantly, dollar signs sparkling in her wickedly gleeful green eyes. She could do a great pixie or Tinkerbell with her short, ragamuffin red hair and her slim, rather petite figure, and she was definitely projecting a high degree of mischief right now.
‘Got what exactly?’ Barbie demanded warily.
‘He didn’t even hesitate over the money. Shows he’s really loaded and doesn’t mind spending. I just love men like that,’ Sue bubbled on.
‘Sure he’s not a dirty old man?’
Sue grinned. ‘Could be a dirty young man. Definitely young, thirtyish, and a bachelor. Co-owner of Multi-Media Promotions.’ She cocked her head on one side. ‘Maybe I could ask him to set up a website for us. Get clients from the Internet.’
‘We haven’t even got a computer,’ Barbie dryly reminded her. Sue’s mind invariably soared with wild dreams and pulling her feet back onto the ground was often a difficult task.
She shrugged. ‘Just thinking ahead. This is really good for us, Barbie. All that lovely money and opportunity plus.’
‘When you get your head out of the clouds with silver lining, would you mind spelling out what this is all about?’
She did, virtually dancing around their small living room in excitement as she laid out the party details and the invitation to stay on and mix with the crème of Sydney bachelors. Which Barbie had to concede, did sound interesting, given their current dearth of social life.
‘What’s this guy’s name? The one who booked my fairy princess act,’ she asked, wondering if there was some way of checking out his bona fides before the night.
‘Leon Webster.’
It struck a nerve and the twang was highly unpleasant. ‘Leon …’ Hadn’t Nick Armstrong had a friend of that name, a guy full of slick patter whom he’d linked up with in his university years? Compelled to know for sure, she asked, ‘And his partner’s name? The birthday boy?’
‘Nick Armstrong.’ Sue broke into mad song. ‘Happy birthday, dear Nick. Happy birthday, dear Nick ….’
‘Stop it!’ Barbie yelled, rising from her chair with clenched fists, so violent was the rush of emotion that name had stirred.
Sue stopped dead, gawking at her as though she were mad. ‘What’s the matter?’
As quickly as shock had drained the blood from her face, the memory of the worst hurt and humiliation of her life poured heat back into it. ‘Don’t you remember?’
‘Remember what?’ Obvious bewilderment.
Above flaming cheeks Barbie’s silver-grey eyes turned to icy daggers as she remembered the man who’d broken her heart into irrecoverable little pieces. ‘Nine years ago I sang at Nick Armstrong’s twenty-first birthday party.’
Sue still looked non-plussed. ‘You did?’
‘Yes, I did. And I poured it all out to you at the time … how he …’ She bit off the wretched recollection and faced Sue with blazing resolve. ‘I will never … ever … sing for him again!’
‘But … uh-oh!’ The memory finally caught up with her. She grimaced. ‘The guy you had the big crush on when we were schoolkids.’
‘I was sixteen!’ Barbie’s voice shook with the violence of feeling the memory stirred.
She’d loved Nick Armstrong with all she was, and he’d totally belittled that love by preferring what a sexy tart with a flash car could give him. Which undoubtedly proved he wasn’t the person she’d believed he was, but even telling herself he had to be a shallow rat to be seduced by such superficial assets, did not stop her from feeling utterly crushed.
‘A lot of water under the bridge since then, Barbie,’ Sue pleaded.
True, yet she’d carried that deep misery with her all the way. No other man had even scratched the surface of what she’d once felt for Nick Armstrong. He’d blighted her faith in love and had probably blighted her belief in dreams, too.
‘It’s only a ten-minute act,’ Sue argued. ‘It will put us well in the black financially.’ Her hands lifted in appeal. ‘He probably won’t even recognise you. You had braces on your teeth then. Your hair was short and much fairer, almost white …’
Yes, white and crinkly like a baby lamb’s coat. Baa-Baa Lamb was what Nick’s friends had called her in those days, teasing her for following them around. She’d hated it.
‘You wore glasses instead of contacts,’ Sue rattled on. ‘And well … you were a skinny rake when we were teenagers. You’re much more mature in your looks now.’
‘That’s not the point,’ she flared. ‘I won’t sing for him. You can if you want, Sue.’
‘Oh, yeah … like I’m blond and beautiful and sexy. Come on, Barbie, the fairy princess act is yours, not mine. Besides which, I promised Leon Webster no wig.’
‘Cancel then. Let him find someone else.’
‘And lose all that lovely money? Not to mention the chance to rub elbows—and possibly more—with guys on the rise?’ She shook her head and advanced on Barbie, the glint of determined battle in her eyes. ‘Best for you to sit down, calm down, and think reasonably about this. If the thought of Nick Armstrong can hurt you so much after nine years … you’ve got a real problem, and it’s time you faced it and got over it.’
Barbie sat down, not wanting to fight with her friend but mutinously resolved on sticking to her guns. She would not sing for Nick Armstrong. Never!
‘Remember the other side of our business—Drop Dead Deliveries?’ Sue prompted as she propped herself on the large padded armrest of the chair.
The idea of someone delivering a bunch of dead roses to a party who had injured them had appealed to quite a few clients. It was a relatively harmless outlet for feelings of frustration and anger, a healthy outlet, Sue had argued, when Barbie had voiced doubts. At least it stopped people doing worse and gave them the satisfaction of doing something instead of just being a victim. Which was probably true.
Nevertheless, Barbie preferred to pass on those jobs to Sue who liked doing them. She didn’t. And delivering wilted flowers to Nick Armstrong to demonstrate what she thought of him and his actions was no answer. She wanted no contact with him at all.
‘Forget it, Sue. I’d rather face a tiger snake, and you know how I feel about snakes.’
With an expressive shudder, Barbie leaned the other way, resting her elbow on the other armrest and adopting an air of unwearable-down patience. Her friend could rail at her as much as she liked, but on this issue, she would not be moved.
‘Forget the dead roses. That’s not what I’ve got in mind,’ Sue assured her.
‘Then why bring it up?’
‘Because there’s nothing like a bit of revenge when someone’s done the dirty on you,’ Sue went on, beginning to wax lyrical with their own advertising copy. ‘Having the last laugh is wonderful. You can then get on with your life, knowing you squared the ledger. Clean slate.’
Barbie rolled exasperated eyes at her.
It didn’t stop Sue.
‘Revenge is sweet,’ she declared with relish, her eyes beginning to sparkle again as she spread out her hands like a magician about to perform a marvellous illusion. ‘Now imagine this, Barbie …’
CHAPTER TWO
BARBIE was literally trembling, her nerves a total jangle as she waited to make her entrance. She shouldn’t have let Sue talk her into this. Somehow her friend had plumbed a well of pride, stirring it to the point where Barbie had actually thought that seeing the stunned look on Nick Armstrong’s face might mend the scars on her heart. Especially when she sprinkled stardust over him, turning him into the child, with her being the adult, falsely smiling at him.
Sweet revenge, Sue called it, but right now Barbie seriously doubted that anything about this gig could turn out sweet. She would hate it if Nick Armstrong didn’t recognise and remember her and she would hate it if he did. And it was useless to even try to pretend she had forgotten him.
Nevertheless, she was here, outside the party marquee on Observatory Hill, and it was too late to call off the promised performance. Someone inside was making a speech—Leon Webster?—to bursts of appreciative laughter and occasional guffaws. About a hundred guests, dressed in very trendy evening gear, Sue had reported, definitely a moneyed crowd.
Since the sides of the marquee were clear plastic for the guests to have an unimpeded view of the harbour and its spectacular coathanger bridge, as well as the myriad night lights of North Sydney, Barbie was standing out of sight behind their car while Sue stood at the entrance, watching proceedings until the vital moment came.
At least she could make a fast getaway, Barbie consoled herself, with the car so close by. Ten minutes—just ten minutes—of being a fairy princess and she could be out of here. Sue, of course, didn’t want to leave. She was all dressed up to party in a slinky green satin slip dress—a very sexy pixie tonight—but she’d promised she would find her own way home if Barbie wanted to take off.
A burst of applause made her heart start skittering. Sue held up her hand, the signal to get ready. Barbie briefly closed her eyes and prayed that her wings wouldn’t fall off, that the long train of her skirt wouldn’t catch on anything, that her vocal cords wouldn’t collapse on her, that the stardust mechanism on her wand would work without a hitch. One perfect performance, she pleaded, for this one night.
Leon Webster grinned around at his audience as the applause for his speech died down. ‘Please … hold your seats, everyone. We have a special surprise coming up for Nick, just to add a little bit of magic to the big 3-0 milestone.’
He gestured an over-to-you to the bandleader and stepped off the podium, having stirred a buzz of speculation around the tables. Nick watched his friend striding across the dance floor to their table, a slight swagger to his gait. Leon was certainly in top form tonight. He’d pulled off a hugely entertaining speech and now he was about to pull something else out of his hat of amusing tricks.
Leon was a great party guy, Nick reflected, smiling at the high-octane energy still radiating from him as he dropped into his chair at their table. Over the years they’d had a lot of fun together—all through university, setting up the business and running it. Long-time friends and always would be, Nick thought, knowing each other probably better than any women in their lives ever would.
The band started playing something he didn’t recognise until the clarinetist came in with the melody. Then Nick burst out laughing at Leon. ‘‘‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’’?’
‘The pot of gold is coming, man.’
‘A bit childish, isn’t it, Leon?’ Tanya sniped.
Nick gritted his teeth, biting down on the urge to tell Tanya to take a hike. She’d been in a picky mood all evening—criticising everything—and very soon now he was going to advise her to join another table.
Leon gave her a smile that smacked of sweet satisfaction. ‘I’m giving Nick a touch of romance, Tanya. He needs it.’
Nick felt Tanya bristle and braced himself for another snide sling off at him. The surprised exclamations of ‘Oh, look!’ and ‘Wow!’ from other guests came as welcome relief, drawing their attention to where everyone else was turning. Swivelling around in his chair, Nick was initially hit with stunned disbelief.
A gorgeous glittering blonde with gossamer wings?
Then he took in the total image and barely stifled a glorious bubble of laughter. Leon—with undoubtedly the most wickedly Machiavellian pleasure—had got him a fairy princess with a magic wand! Tanya, of course, would not appreciate the joke, but Nick no longer cared what Tanya thought. Or did. In fact, if a wave of that wand could make her disappear, he’d have no objection at all.
He smiled at the fairy princess. He wouldn’t be leaving her on a shelf for long if he had her in his keeping, and he wouldn’t need any magic to spark off desire, either. She was the best-looking fantasy he’d even seen in the flesh.
And what flesh!
The gauzy silver evening dress shimmered around hourglass curves and the clingy fabric clearly revealed there was no artful underwear involved in creating the sexy effect. This was all living, breathing woman, so perfect she could have emerged from the pages of a fairytale.
Her lovely face was made even more luminous by a smile that could have made gooey mush out of a stone heart and eyes that sparkled through a sprinkling of stardust. A delicate diamanté tiara crowned a long rippling flow of silky blond hair which looked all the more beautiful, framed by the wings with their fine network of silver spokes and loops.
A princess indeed, Nick thought, and hoped she would grant his wish for her to stay on at the party so they could work some magic together.
So far, so good, Barbie told herself, smiling so hard her face ached. She’d made it up the aisle between the tables from the entrance to the dance floor without a falter or mishap. Her surprise appearance was certainly coming off as a surprise and she was intensely grateful that the response from the guests was positive—no cat-calling or anything off-putting, just a buzz of wonder and appreciation and a heightened sense of anticipation for what would happen next.
She spotted Nick Armstrong as she stepped onto the dance floor. Leon had told Sue that he and the birthday boy would be at the table directly opposite where the band was set up, and there they both were, Leon emphatically pointing at Nick to identify him as the guest of honour.
Barbie nodded to show she understood. Nick was happily smiling at her, looking even more handsome than she remembered him, a dark blue shirt enhancing his dark colouring and heightening the vivid blue of his eyes … eyes that were gobbling her up as though she were everything his heart could desire.
For a moment, her heart leapt with treacherous joy … Nick loving the image of her. Then her mind savagely kicked in—lust, not love, you fool. He’d probably have the same look for a curvaceous bikini girl popping out of a birthday cake.
Her gaze slid briefly to the woman sitting next to him—masses of black hair in a tousled mane, pouty red lips and a red dress with a décolletage that had undoubtedly attracted him—out of the same mould as the scarlet tart he’d preferred to true love on his twenty-first birthday.
Barbie hated her on sight. And quite clearly, the woman was making no bones about hating her right back. The fairy princess for Nick was not going down at all well with her.
Unaccountably a sweet sense of satisfaction swept through Barbie. She bestowed an especially warm smile on Nick before turning to walk to the podium where the microphone awaited. Let him lust after her instead of his black-haired bed-pet, she thought wickedly, and put a more seductive sway into her hips to help him focus his attention where she wanted it.
Sue was right about revenge. It would be balm to her wounded soul if Nick ended up panting after her tonight. Of course, it would mean he was a shallow rat, but proving that beyond a doubt might help to finally put him behind her. And then she could crush him and walk away. Walk away forever!
She timed her arrival at the podium to the last chords of ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow.’ The musicians were grinning at her, thoroughly enjoying the effectiveness of her appearance. The bandleader winked his approval and another wicked idea slid into her mind.
‘Remember Marilyn Monroe singing ‘‘Happy Birthday’’ to the president?’ she whispered.
He nodded, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
‘I want that tempo. Okay?’
‘You got it, babe.’
She took the microphone and swallowed a couple of times to moisten her throat. One of her talents was doing a good mimic. She hoped she could pull this one off tonight. It was worth trying, anyway, she boldly reasoned, even if her voice did waver off the note. If it was sexiness that turned Nick Armstrong on, she’d pour it out at him.
The audience settled and hushed. Sue gave her a thumbs up sign from where she still stood at the entrance to the marquee. Leon Webster leaned forward, saying something to Nick at their table. The black-haired sexpot looked furious. Nick flashed a grin at his friend, ignored the woman beside him, turning his back to her as he concentrated his attention on the fairy princess about to sing for him. Not polite attention, Barbie noted triumphantly. Wolfish attention!
The band struck up a vibrant opening chord. Barbie took a deep breath and lifted the microphone close to her mouth so she could purr into it.
‘Ha … ppy birth … day …’ another big breath ‘… dear … Nick …’
A ripple of amusement ran around the marquee. It was pure over-the-top candied honey. Nick tilted his head back in delight, a low chuckle emerging from his throat … music to Barbie’s ears. He was captivated all right.
She repeated the line, putting a huskier edge on her voice. The band paused for her until the appreciative laughter died down, picking up again as she started the third ‘Happy Birthday’, soaring with her as she poured more volume into the high note, then dropping softly to the ‘Dear Ni … ick,’ into which she pumped a load of seductive come-on.
He was not the least bit embarrassed by it. His head was cocked slightly to one side, as though bewitched and bemused, wanting more.
Barbie gave it to him, drawing out the last line and loading it with sensual innuendo as she sang ‘… to … you-ou-ou,’ her lips rounded in a suggestive oval, sending a long, long, visual kiss.
The crowd in the marquee erupted then, guys standing up on chairs, clapping and hooting and whistling, the women laughing and cheering. Leon Webster jumped to his feet, arms up in the air, drinking in the credit of being a magnificent impresario to have brought this off.
But Nick didn’t even glance at his friend. Or at his rollicking guests. His gaze was burning up a line that linked him straight to his fairy princess, and Barbie didn’t feel her face ache at all as she smiled some sizzling heat right back at him. She replaced the microphone on its stand and stepped down from the podium, all primed for the final part of her act.
‘Everybody join in singing now,’ Leon shouted, swinging around and waving up more enthusiasm.
The band broke into a more jolly rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ and everyone who wasn’t already standing, rose to give loud voice in accolade to the one man who remained seated. Hands slid over his shoulders as Barbie walked towards him, her wand benevolently raised—hands with long red nails, claiming jealous possession.
If Nick felt them he showed no sign of it. No appeasing smile was flashed at the woman behind him. His gaze remained fixed on the princess approaching him, feasting on every physical facet of the illusion.
Barbie feasted on the sense of power this gave her. It was more exhilarating than any applause she had ever received for entertaining people. This was real woman-power and she was holding it over the one man in the world she most wanted to hold it over … Nick Armstrong.
Her stomach was contracting in spasms of delight. Her breasts seemed to thrust themselves out more, peaking and tingling. Her hips rolled in voluptuous provocation, her thighs sliding sensuously against each other with every step she took towards him. She was intensely conscious of every part of her femininity, as though it had not only been awakened to a new level of awareness, but aroused to fever-pitch and highly primitive immediacy.
Nick was facing her, still seated, but with his face upturned when she stopped in front of him, barely a step away. It was a miracle she remembered what had to be done with the wand. His eyes were locked on hers, transmitting a blazing quest for more knowledge of her, intimate knowledge of her, and the desire to get it.
‘Make a wish,’ she invited huskily, smiling as she lifted the wand over his head and pressed the button on the silver rod, opening the star at the end of it to release a shower of silver glitter. It speckled his hair, his nose, his cheeks, and the brilliant blue of his eyes suddenly seemed to become more piercing, magnetic in its intensity.
She bent to bestow a fairy kiss on his cheek. Her heart was drumming in her ears, driving the noise around them off to some far distance. She saw his lips part slightly and temptation seized her. Instead of planting her mouth where it should have been planted to seal the wish-spell, an irresistible force dragged it down to meet his.
The moment the first tantalising contact was made was the last Barbie had any control over. Nick surged to his feet, a thumb hooked under her chin, fingers thrusting into her hair, taking a firm grip, tilting her head back, his mouth dominating hers as his other arm burrowed under her wings and scooped her in to a full body blast of his highly energised masculinity.
It was like no other kiss Barbie had experienced in her whole life—a wild, storming kiss that electrified every nerve, a stampeding kiss that reduced her mind to a whirlpool of fantastic sensation, an ecstatically passionate kiss that taught her that lust had an intoxicating excitement that could not be denied. Enthralled by these overwhelming factors, she was unaware of the removal of the wand from her grasp. Indeed, she didn’t even realise where her hands were.
With shocking abruptness, the mouth that had wrought such intense rapture was wrenched from hers. The harsh words, ‘What the hell!’ rang in her ears. Her eyes flew open just as the star at the end of her wand was slammed down on Nick’s head as though it were a flyswatter being wielded with deadly intent. Glitter sprayed from the impact.
‘I’ll give you magic!’ a woman’s voice screeched, and the wand lifted, ready to crash down again.
Nick’s hand hastily disengaged itself from Barbie’s hair and he threw up an arm to ward off its descent. ‘Quit it, Tanya!’ he grated.
‘You quit it!’ came the fierce retort.
Tanya, the black-haired witch! Dazedly, Barbie stared at the furious attacker, feeling oddly detached from the emotional violence playing across the other woman’s face.
‘How dare you kiss her, in front of me!’ she snarled as Nick swivelled to grab the damaging wand from her.
Tanya whipped it out of his reach and advanced on Barbie who was now hugged to Nick’s side but open to frontal assault. The red mouth was stretched into an ugly jeer as her arm swung back to deliver another forcible blow, this time aimed at Barbie’s head.
‘And you … you fairy cow … can milk someone else for sex! Nick is mine!’
It was Leon Webster who caught the wand in mid-swing, tore it out of her grasp and tossed it onto the dance floor. ‘Cool it, Tanya!’ he commanded.
Being de-weaponed, however, did nothing to lower the raging fury. With arms raised and fingers curled like talons, Tanya lunged at Barbie, hissing like a snake.
Nick threw in a shoulder-block. Leon knocked her arms down and pinned them to her sides in a smothering hug from behind. Everything had moved so fast, Barbie was still in a shocked daze, though her body was quivering in reaction to the chaos without and within.
‘Let me go!’ Tanya seethed.
‘Not until you’re ready to behave,’ Leon tersely retorted.
‘Right!’ another voice cracked into the maelstrom.
Sue!
‘No indignities you said, Mr. Webster!’ she reminded him in high dudgeon. Her hands were planted on her hips in aggressive mode as she subjected Nick and Leon—still holding the struggling Tanya—to a look of arch scorn. ‘The crème of young Sydney society?’ she drawled with biting acid.
‘Miss Olsen … Sue …’ Leon started ingratiatingly.
‘My fairy princess gets grabbed and ravished in plain view of a hundred people …’
‘I didn’t anticipate she’d be so …’
Sue cut him off. ‘We delivered precisely what you ordered, sir. Sexy, you said. Indeed, you insisted.’
‘I know. I know. But …’
‘Control, Mr. Webster, was in your court.’
‘I’m doing it. I saved her from being attacked. Tanya, apologise to the ladies.’
‘Ladies! They’re no better than whores!’ she shrieked.
‘More indignities,’ Sue hammered. She glared at Nick. ‘Kindly unhand my fairy princess, sir. I am taking her out of this unsavoury scene.’
His warm, supporting arm was removed, leaving Barbie feeling chilled and shivery. He gestured a plea to Sue. ‘I’m sorry things got out of hand …’
‘Perhaps you’ll now take them in hand,’ Sue shot at him, glancing meaningly at Tanya. ‘I expect Mr. Webster to escort us out of this marquee, guaranteeing safety for my fairy princess. And may I say, sir …’ Her green eyes knifed into Nick’s. ‘… your choice of companion is no lady.’
‘Who the hell do you think you are!’ Tanya snarled.
Sue ignored her, nodding to Barbie. ‘The wand needs collecting.’
Barbie took a deep breath, gathering herself together, then stepped away from Nick, trying to maintain an air of dignity as she set off to where the wand had fallen on the dance floor.
‘No, wait!’ A hoarse plea from Nick.
Barbie hesitated, still feeling the magnetic pull he’d held on her, but she resisted it, realising Sue was right in her judgement to get them out of here, pronto! Nothing good could eventuate from what had already gone on. Revenge, she decided, was a very tricky thing to play with.
‘Please … stay!’
It was an almost anguished cry from Nick this time, curling around Barbie’s heart, squeezing it, throwing her into confusion. Before she could respond either way, her wings were grabbed from behind and jerked from the boned slot in the back of her dress. Crying out in horror at the damage that might be done, she swung around to find Nick juggling the wings with an equal expression of horror, babbling apologies. ‘I didn’t mean … I just wanted …’
‘More indignities!’ Sue accused hotly. ‘Mr. Webster …’
‘For God’s sake, Nick!’ Leon begged. ‘Leave her be and take Tanya from me.’
‘I don’t want Tanya!’ Nick snapped at him. ‘She can go take a flying leap off the Harbour Bridge for all I care!’
‘You scum!’
The black-haired witch broke free of Leon and smashed Barbie’s wings out of Nick’s hands with her fists. They fell to the floor and she jumped on them, stamping her feet all over them like a dervish, her red toenails splayed openly in black stilleto sandals, looking like drops of blood on the silvery gossamer as she wreaked her malicious damage.
Sheer shock paralysed everyone for several seconds.
‘No … no …’ Barbie moaned.
It shot Nick into action, hauling the hysterical woman off her feet and carrying her to the other side of the table where he forcibly held her to prevent any more harm being done.
Barbie stared down at the broken wings. They’d taken her so many hours to create and they’d been beautiful. Tears welled into her eyes. It was like a desecration …
Someone tapped her on the arm and offered her the wand she’d meant to collect. The star was hanging drunkenly at the end of the silver rod. It was broken, too.
‘You’re going to get a huge damage bill for this, Mr. Webster,’ Sue threatened darkly, folding her arms in firm belligerent style.
‘Okay. I’ll pay,’ he promised on a ragged sigh. ‘If we could move now …’
They moved, Leon shepherding both Sue and Barbie through the loud melee in the marquee. The wings were left where they lay crushed. Leon muttered something about a good joke going awry. Sue castigated him for not providing adequate protection. Barbie stared at the battered wand in her hand.
A falling star, she thought.
A wish …
Did wishes ever come true?
CHAPTER THREE
LEON swept into Nick’s office for their usual Monday morning conference, hoping his friend had wiped the birthday disaster from their joint slate, only to be faced with incontrovertible evidence that Nick was still obsessed with it!
‘What are those fairy wings doing on your desk?’ he demanded in exasperation.
Nick lifted a belligerently determined face. ‘I’m going to fix them.’
‘And just how do you propose to do that? Tanya punched so many holes through them with her stiletto heels, the fabric is irreparable.’
‘I am aware of that, Leon.’ He glowered dangerously. ‘Which is why I need to get the fabric matched so I can replace it. I decided you wouldn’t mind lending me your secretary for a while this morning. She’d probably know how …’
‘You can’t use Sharon for personal jobs.’
One black eyebrow lifted in challenge. ‘Can’t I?’
‘This is ridiculous!’ Leon expostulated. ‘I said I’d pay the bill for damages and I will. As soon as it comes in.’
‘I’m going to fix the wings,’ Nick repeated stubbornly.
‘Why?’
‘Because I want to. Because it will mean something when I give them back to her.’
Leon expelled a long breath. Nick was definitely out of his tree. He lifted his hands in a plea for sanity. ‘It was just an act. An act I paid for, Nick. Nothing more. Just a …’
‘It turned into something more.’
‘Okay, she was beautiful. She was sexy. She turned you on. But you don’t even know the woman, Nick. She might be …’
‘I don’t care who she is!’ His hand slammed down on the desk as he stood up. ‘I want to feel that again. I have to know. And I will know.’ He paced around the office, clearly disturbed, his hands moving in agitated gestures. ‘When I kissed her … I’ve never experienced anything like it in my life before. She’s different, Leon.’
‘Fairy princesses tend to be different, Nick. Kind of like dream stuff.’
That perfectly rational point earned a flash of impatience that said he didn’t understand, didn’t have the experience to understand.
‘I can’t let it go,’ came the steely resolve.
Totally out of his tree!
Recognising a brick wall when he saw it, Leon asked, ‘So, have you tracked her down, arranged to meet under normal circumstances?’
Nick’s face twisted with frustration. ‘I called and called the Party Poppers number yesterday and all I got was an answering machine. Then finally, this morning, I reached that Sue Olsen on the phone, but she flatly refused to give out the name and address of her fairy princess. Against company policy.’
Dead right, Leon thought approvingly. Fantasy and reality didn’t mix. Expectations could never be met and it was a stupid waste of time to go chasing them.
Nick grimaced and muttered, ‘But I’ll get it somehow. Sue Olsen said something about Singing Sunflowers before I started in on questions. I’ll ask my sister to book that act for her kids. My fairy princess is a singer … right? She might be a sunflower, too.’
The desperate hope in Nick’s voice told Leon his friend needed help fast or very little creative work was going to get done on the designs they’d been contracted to deliver. He instantly revised his opinion. The sooner hopes and expectations were blasted, the better.
‘No need to go to that trouble, Nick,’ he soothed.
‘I’ll go to any lengths,’ came the punchy retort, his eyes flashing unshakable determination. ‘I have to find her.’
‘Sure you do. I understand,’ Leon quickly inserted. ‘All I meant was … leave it to me. I’ll have the name and address you want before today is out.’
Nick frowned, suspicious of his confidence. ‘How?’ he demanded.
‘I’ll call Sue Olsen, ask her out for lunch as an apology for the mess on Saturday night. Restaurant of her choice. Promise to write out a cheque for the damages bill there and then. Butter her up. Piece of cake. As you well know, I am the best salesman in the business.’
‘What about her company policy?’
‘I’ll find a loophole. Trust me.’
Nick expelled a deep sigh. Then his eyes narrowed. ‘You won’t put her further offside?’
Leon laughed. ‘That feisty little redhead wasn’t offside. She was making hay while the sun shone. A dyed-in-the-wool opportunist, like me. In fact, I’ll enjoy having lunch with her. I have the feeling Miss Olsen and I speak the same language.’
‘Okay. Just don’t slip up, Leon. This is really important to me.’
‘No problem, Nick, I swear. Just shovel those wings off your desk and get to work while I …’
‘I’m still going to fix them. If you’d send Sharon along …’
Leon ungritted his teeth enough to bite out, ‘Okay. But don’t take up too much office time on it. It’s bad business getting secretaries to do personal jobs, Nick, and you’ve got a full schedule, too.’
‘I just want to ask her advice,’ he insisted.
‘Fine! Speak to you later.’
Leon went off fuming.
Women!
He’d got rid of Tanya Wells for good, only to be loaded with another festering problem. There was black irony for you. A fairy princess was supposed to remove trouble not make it. He should have hired a doll, not a real woman. Big mistake, Leon, he castigated himself. Though there was one bright spot.
A very feisty little redhead.
Cute, too.
He wouldn’t mind having lunch with Sue Olsen at all.
Yes, that was definitely a bright spot.
Barbie was still trying to mend the broken wand when the Drop Dead Deliveries telephone rang. She frowned at it. Sue had gone off to lunch with Leon Webster, assured of getting the damages cheque, while she was supposed to deal personally with any bookings that came in. Except Barbie didn’t like answering the revenge phone, as she thought of it. Why couldn’t it have been the Party Poppers one?
‘Business is business,’ she muttered, putting the wand down with a resigned sigh.
Feeling very, very ambivalent about revenge after the cataclysmic meeting with Nick Armstrong, she reluctantly lifted the receiver and pulled an order pad and pen within easy reach.
‘Drop Dead Deliveries,’ she stated flatly, unable to project Sue’s enthusiasm. ‘How may I help you?’
‘I want you to deliver a dozen dead roses to a guy named Nick Armstrong at Multi-Media Promotions.’
Barbie’s heart flipped.
Was this the black-haired witch who had attacked them with the wand and smashed her wings?
‘Your name please?’ she asked.
‘Tanya Wells.’
Tanya! No mistake about that. Even the voice was putting her teeth on edge—like chalk screeching on a blackboard.
‘And I want you to write just one word on the card—Loser!’
‘You don’t want to add your name?’
‘He’ll know who it’s from,’ came the venomous retort. ‘And before we go any further I want to know when you can deliver. It has to be today and the sooner the better.’
The demanding tone raised Barbie’s hackles. This was definitely a woman who wanted—and expected—to get everything her own way. Nevertheless, a paying customer was entitled to the service they paid for.
‘Just a moment while I check,’ she said with surface calm, hiding the maelstrom of thoughts the other woman stirred.
Loser! Well, she had tickets on herself that Barbie would never have given her, but maybe Tanya Wells had reason to believe Nick valued his relationship with her. If he did, he’d certainly been a fool to act as he had at his birthday party. On the other hand, maybe all women had only one value for him, and he thought he’d found another candidate to fulfil that requirement better than Tanya. Was that why he was so hot for Barbie’s name and address?
‘Well? When can you get the dead roses to him?’ Angry impatience.
‘Possibly three o’clock,’ Barbie temporised, feeling distinctly negative about obliging Tanya Wells with anything.
‘Can’t you do it earlier?’
Not if Sue did the job. But what if she went herself? Dressed in a black suit with her hair tucked up under a hat, dark glasses on … the image she’d present would be a far cry from the fairy princess that had taken Nick’s fancy on Saturday night. And if he did somehow recognise her, she could deliver a double whammy of rejection. Serve him right for playing fast and loose!
At least he hadn’t identified her as Barbie Lamb, so she felt safe about that. No humiliating trip down memory lane would eventuate from this. And it would be … interesting … just to see him again, in his workplace.
Temptation was a terrible, terrible thing.
‘We could manage two o’clock if that suits.’ It was almost twelve now. She needed time to get dressed …
‘Perfect! That should screw up his precious work this afternoon.’
Again Barbie frowned. Tanya Wells was a malicious piece of goods and it didn’t sit well, being a partner to her wishes. Yet how could she judge what had actually gone on between her and Nick? Maybe she had just cause … if he was a shallow rat!
‘May I have your credit card details, Miss Wells?’
Barbie completed the transaction, her mind moving into a ferment over the wisdom of taking this job. Nick’s calls to Party Poppers proved he wanted to see her again, but he didn’t know who she was and Barbie found herself totally churned up over what his response would be if he found out. A sexy fantasy was one thing, reality quite another.
She’d certainly found out what it was like to be kissed by him—with lustful desire. And she couldn’t deny she’d felt swamped by lustful desire herself. But undoubtedly it had been no more than a highly heated moment, generated by volatile emotions on both sides. His angry outburst about not caring if Tanya took a flying leap off the Harbour Bridge surely pointed to their having been at odds before Barbie had appeared on the scene as a fairy princess.
Revenge …
For all she knew, Nick himself might have been taking vengeance on Tanya for something the black-haired witch had done!
Barbie stared at the order sheet she had just written out.
Maybe she shouldn’t go.
Sue could do it when she came back from her lunch with Leon Webster. So what if the delivery was a bit late …
No!
She wanted to see Nick for herself, in the cold light of day! Sue was right about finishing this … this hangover from the past. Saturday night was supposed to have achieved that purpose, yet when he’d kissed her … somehow it had just made everything worse, stirring up what she had wanted to put behind her. It would be different today.
Best to go and make absolutely certain there was nothing about Nick Armstrong that was worth harbouring in her memory.
CHAPTER FOUR
NICK propped the broken wings as best he could against the file cabinet, then moved a chair up beside them. The small swatch of damaged fabric he’d cut out of one of them made them look even more forlorn, but the salesman at the Strand Arcade where Sharon had advised him to go, swore the organza he’d subsequently bought was a perfect match. Not feeling quite so certain, Nick wanted to check it truly was right.
He undid the parcel, shook out the full length of the folded organza and draped it over the chair next to the wings. Moving back a few paces, he looked from one to the other and felt both relief and satisfaction. The salesman did know his fabrics. It was exactly the same.
A rather tentative knock on his office door brought a smile to his face. It was sure to be Sharon coming to see if he’d been successful in his lunch-hour quest. ‘Come in,’ he called, not even glancing at the door, his smiling gaze revelling in the evidence of his achievement.
Barbie took a deep breath. It had been bad enough running the gauntlet of curious stares on her way to this door. The receptionist had looked very doubtful about giving directions to Nick Armstrong’s office, and Barbie had been fearful of being called back and more rigorously questioned. But she’d made it to here without being accosted—the all-black funereal garb probably an intimidating factor that had worked for her—and now she was being invited to enter by his voice.
She had to go through with it.
Stupid not to, at this point.
Nevertheless, her heart was thumping erratically as she turned the knob and pushed the door open. Her mind was so highly energised, she had the weird sensation of floating as her quivering legs took the few necessary steps to move into the room to face the man and the feelings she’d come to confront.
Except he wasn’t facing her at all.
Nor even looking at her.
His attention was trained entirely on … her fairy princess wings!
‘See?’ he said, gesturing to a length of fabric draped over a nearby chair. ‘A perfect match!’
Shock held Barbie speechless. Her gaze moved slowly from the silvery organza to the man who had gone to the trouble of acquiring it. Would a shallow rat want to fix her wings? Wasn’t Leon Webster in the process of paying the cost of replacing them? What was going on here?
She wished she could read Nick’s mind. His expression in profile seemed relaxed into a smile, but what did the smile mean? Was he remembering her as the fairy princess, anticipating more from her? Or calculating how to get more?
A convulsive little shiver ran down her spine as she stared at him. He was so very handsome, even in profile, so strongly male. His thick black hair brushed the collar of his white shirt. He had the broad shoulders of a star swimmer and a taut sexy butt, outlined by the grey trousers he wore. She remembered her thighs being pressed to the hard ungiving muscularity of his, her breasts squashing against the hot wall of his chest …
Her nerves leapt in shock as he suddenly turned, looking directly at her, his vivid blue eyes sharp and probing. The lingering smile was instantly wiped from his face and a frown creased his brow as his gaze raked her from head to foot and back again.
Panic plunged Barbie’s mind into a fog of fear and set her heart fluttering in wild agitation. Would he—could he—recognise her, despite the large dark sunglasses and the black hat that covered her hair and dipped over her forehead? Her fingers closed more tightly around the base of the cone of black tissue paper which held the dead roses. She could use it as a self-protective weapon if she had to.
‘Who are you?’ he rapped out.
Relief! He didn’t know. Barbie struggled to re-gather her wits. She was here to do a job, not get shattered again by this man. Every self-protective instinct screamed—get it right and go.
‘Mr. Nick Armstrong?’
Her voice came out too soft and husky. She should have swallowed first. He was frowning more quizzically at her now. Had her tone struck a familiar chord with him? Was he matching it to the way she’d sung at his birthday party?
‘Yes,’ he answered belatedly, his gaze zeroing in on her mouth, studying it with highly discomforting intensity.
Barbie was drawn into staring back at his, remembering how it had felt, how it had aroused such a stampede of wild sensations and needs …
Rattled at finding herself so treacherously distracted from her purpose, she rushed into the set speech for this job. ‘I hereby present you with a Drop Dead Delivery.’
‘What?’ he demanded incredulously.
Her nerves jangled at the sharpness of his tone. Somehow she found the strength of will to step forward, holding out the bundle of black tissue for him to take. ‘This was ordered for you,’ she explained.
‘By whom?’
He didn’t take delivery. His arms remained at his sides, his refusal to accept her offering an innate challenge to her presence, and by stepping closer to him, Barbie had the overwhelming sense of having put herself in a danger zone. It was as though he emitted an electric charge. Her whole body was tingling with an extreme awareness of his powerful masculinity. She wished she could turn tail and run but knew instinctively he wouldn’t let her.
The black tissue paper rustled slightly. She was shaking. Desperate to get past this contretemps with him, she quickly spelled out, ‘I understand from our client that you will know who the sender is.’
‘Someone who wants me to drop dead?’ he quizzed sardonically, still not taking delivery. His eyes were like blue lasers, boring through the dark cover of her sunglasses. ‘Now who would that be?’
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Emma Darcy
Power, passion, possession… Barbie Lamb is on a mission. The plan:1) Arrive at Nick Armstrong’s 30th birthday looking so fabulous his jaw drops.2) Use a fake identity to mask their past connection and seduce him.3) Leave him wanting more.Not in the plan:1) Fall back in love with the same guy who broke her heart years before.Nick can’t believe that the gorgeous woman before him is the same girl he once knew. But why is she using a different name? If she wants to play games…all right – he’ll play. But she’ll have to play by his rules…
About the Author
Initially a French/English teacher, EMMA DARCY changed careers to computer programming before the happy demands of marriage and motherhood. Very much a people person, and always interested in relationships, she finds the world of romance fiction a thrilling one, and the challenge of creating her own cast of characters very addictive.
Recent titles by the same author:
THE INCORRIGIBLE PLAYBOY
AN OFFER SHE CAN’T REFUSE
THE COSTARELLA CONTRACT
HIDDEN MISTRESS, PUBLIC WIFE
Did you know these are also available as eBooks?Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
The Sweetest
Revenge
Emma Darcy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE
MONDAY morning, and as usual, the staff of Multi-Media Promotions was abuzz with the swapping of weekend news before everyone settled down to work. Nick Armstrong exchanged only brief greetings as he strode to his private office, trailed by his friend and business partner, Leon Webster. The moment his door was shut, he released his pent-up anger to the one person who should understand his situation.
‘You know what Tanya said to me on Saturday, after I’d called off our planned outing once again?’ he exploded.
‘Something undoubtedly designed to cut you off at the knees,’ came the voice of experience.
Nick grimaced, remembering that Leon had just been through a nasty break-up with a live-in girlfriend. ‘She said what I really wanted was a toy doll whose feelings wouldn’t be hurt from being left on a shelf until I had time for playing.’
‘Sounds good! A toy doll wouldn’t nag.’
‘Better still, a fairy princess doll …’
‘Yep. Beautiful, glamorous, long blond hair, sparkling eyes, a smile to warm a man’s heart …’
‘…with a magic wand that would give me the energy to be the kind of lover that even a plastic toy would expect of a man.’
‘Oooh … we’re getting into kinky stuff here.’
‘Leon, this is serious. And we are going to have a serious discussion.’
Eyebrows lifted mockingly. ‘About women?’
‘About business.’ Nick glowered at his friend as he rounded the desk and dropped into his chair. ‘Take a seat. And wipe that smirk off your face. This is deadly serious.’
‘The man is wounded,’ Leon muttered, settling into a chair with a mournful expression. Seeing Nick’s irritation, he made an effort to present a suitably serious countenance.
It was dangerous to rile Nick in this mood. He was the darkly brooding type—a creative genius and a computer whiz from way back—and he often needed lightening up, but this was not the moment, Leon decided.
They were opposites in many ways. Even in looks. Nick—tall, black-haired, blue-eyed, had a face and body that were stamped with masculine strength, both physical and mental. Oddly enough, Leon never felt diminished by him. While he himself was only average height and his colouring wasn’t so dramatic, having fairish brown hair and brown eyes, he had the gift of the gab and could attract any woman he wanted.
They made a great team—the design king and the salesman—and Leon was not about to allow anything to disturb it. Besides which, his partner’s mental well-being was of paramount importance to their success.
‘Business!’ Nick tapped the desk with a strong index finger for emphasis. ‘You know how much the Internet stuff has taken off, Leon. I’m snowed under. I need two more graphic designers to help take the load.’
‘That will cut into our profits,’ he cautioned.
‘I need a life, too,’ Nick bit out.
Leon rolled his eyes. ‘Just because Tanya got in a snit over not getting your undivided attention? She doesn’t own you, Nick, and take it from me …’
Blue lightning flashed straight back at him. ‘I take a lot from you, Leon. You’re a fantastic salesman and we’re doing great, but I will not work to this pressure anymore.’
Hands instantly lifted into a truce position. ‘Okay, okay,’ he soothed. ‘So long as this is you talking and not Tanya. You always said if we worked like dogs until we’re thirty …’
‘I’m thirty next week. Both of us pocketed over five million dollars last year …’
‘And may well pocket twice that this year.’
‘But we’ve paid a price for it. You lost Liz …’
‘There you go, bringing women into it …’
‘Damn it, Leon! I want a life beyond work, even if you don’t. I’m thirty next week. Enough’s enough. I need more staff.’
‘Okay, okay. I’ll ask around. Head-hunt someone good for you.’
Nick held up two fingers.
Leon sighed. Two more salaries to pay. ‘So we’ll get someone good and one out of design school to be trained. How’s that?’
‘Cheapskate.’
‘Not at all. Common sense to train them our way. You know that, Nick.’
Nick privately conceded the point, but was not about to relax his stance on the issue. ‘Get right onto it, Leon. And don’t be giving me any delay tactics. I don’t care what it costs. It will cost a damned sight more if I reach burnout.’
‘Don’t mention that word!’ Horror-struck, Leon jackknifed from his chair. ‘Your wish is my command, dear boy. I shall go forth this moment and head-hunt.’
‘A trainee, as well.’
‘No problem. They’ll be storming the portals to get in here.’ He strode to the door and paused, looking back with cynical eyes. ‘I bet Tanya is still coming to your birthday bash. She likes what our money can buy. Don’t forget that when she turns the screws again.’
‘Business, Leon,’ Nick tersely reminded him, and he went.
On edge, disgruntled with his world, Nick turned to his computer, switched it on, and tried to settle himself to work. But Leon’s words stuck in his mind. The flaming row he’d had with Tanya had ended with her saying that the party would be his last chance with her. If he hadn’t made some move to reorganise his life …
His lips thinned. She’d gone too far, expecting him to order his life to suit her. It wasn’t as if he was being unfaithful, taking out other women on the side. And she certainly didn’t mind him spending the big money he earned, always asking him to take her to the most fashionable restaurants and get the best seats at the live shows she wanted to see. Leon was right about her suckering him for all he could give.
Not that it was an overly disturbing factor. What was money for, anyway, if not to buy life’s pleasures? Except Tanya wasn’t delivering much in the way of pleasure herself. In fact, she was becoming an unreasonable nag, picking fights at the end of the night which inevitably turned him off wanting to have sex with her. It wasn’t so much energy he lacked, but desire.
His last chance …
He had a good mind to finish it before the party, which of course she didn’t want to miss. Who would? Leon had organised a marquee on Observatory Hill overlooking Sydney Harbour, a hot jazz band, top caterers. All the young successful men who were making their mark in business would be there for her to cast her eyes over.
Let her, Nick thought grimly.
Maybe he would cast his eyes around, too. There had to be someone who’d be more amenable to his needs … who wouldn’t mind occupying her own shelf while he dealt with the stimulating challenge of business. He could certainly do without an unreasonable nag.
Leon headed for his own private office, hoping he’d just spiked Tanya’s guns with that last comment—selfish trouble-making bitch. She pumped Nick for all he was worth and never gave anything back, as far as Leon could see. Maybe he should rope in some hot party girls for Nick’s birthday bash, show him there were many more fish in the sea, fish that would only be too happy to swim with him without kicking up a storm.
Better still ….
Leon smiled.
Why not a fairy princess doll? With a magic wand that would turn Tanya Wells into an ugly croaking frog.
The smile broadened to a gleeful grin.
‘Party Poppers,’ Sue Olsen announced brightly, tucking the telephone receiver on her shoulder as she reached for pad and pen, hopeful of a lucrative booking. ‘How may we pop for you?’
‘You supply acts for birthday parties?’ a male voice answered.
‘Yes, indeed, sir. What do you have in mind? We have The Singing Sunflowers, The Cuddly Animal Farm, The Jellybean …’
‘I want a fairy princess with a magic wand to sing ‘‘Happy Birthday’’ and sprinkle some sparkle around,’ came the decisive demand.
Sue grinned at her friend and business partner, Barbie Lamb, who still felt ragged from yesterday’s clown act for thirty screaming five-year-olds. ‘We have the perfect fairy princess for you,’ she answered with proud confidence.
Barbie rolled tired eyes at Sue. Clearly she needed a sprinkle of magic dust herself to raise some enthusiasm this morning. Four children’s parties over the weekend was a heavy schedule and a huge energy-sucker. On the bright side, the fairy princess job would be a breeze for her, much easier to carry off than the clown act.
‘What date are we looking at?’ Sue inquired of the caller.
‘I want to be sure of the goods first,’ came the wary reply. ‘Perfect, you said. I need beautiful …’
‘Absolutely beautiful,’ Sue assured him, grinning at Barbie.
‘Long blond hair? All loose … like flowing around her shoulders?’
‘That describes her hair exactly.’
‘It’s not a wig? A wig won’t do.’
‘I promise you it’s not a wig.’
‘Fine. What about her smile? Good teeth? A big warm smile?’
‘A dazzling smile. Any dentist would be proud of her.’
‘Dazzling, huh? Well, that fits the bill so far. How tall is she?’
‘Tall?’ Sue frowned over this requirement.
‘I don’t want a midget. I mean, we’re not talking a dressed-up kid here, are we?’
‘No. Our fairy princess is a beautiful young woman, taller than average but not quite model height.’
Barbie pulled a face, distorting her lovely features, baring her teeth and raking out her hair to produce her Wicked Witch of the West look. Sue poked out her tongue.
‘Great!’ her caller enthused. ‘This is sounding good. Just one more question. How does her figure rate?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Her figure. You know … curves in the right places?’
‘Uh-huh,’ Sue said non-committally, waiting to see how far he would go on this contentious point.
‘A skinny rake won’t do,’ he stated emphatically. ‘If she’s got sexy curves, that’s the ticket.’
‘Hmm …’ Sexy set off alarm bells in Sue’s mind and raised a nasty suspicion. They did occasionally get weirdo calls. Time to nail this one down. ‘Is this booking for a children’s party, sir?’
‘No. No kids at this party.’
‘Would this happen to be a bucks’ night?’ Sue asked sweetly, ready to pour acid on the idea.
‘Believe me. Weddings are not in the air,’ he answered sardonically. ‘This is a big party for my friend’s thirtieth birthday and I want this act as a special surprise for him.’
‘Will there be women as well as men in attendance?’
‘There most certainly will. You could say the bachelors and spinsters of the social-climbing crème of Sydney society will be there. Nothing secret or closeted about this party, I assure you,’ he added, catching the wary drift of her questions. ‘Very public. It’s to be held in a marquee on Observatory Hill.’
‘I see.’ Opportunity leapt to the fore in Sue’s thinking. A bunch of eligible bachelors on the loose was an attractive proposition. ‘Well, I would have to insist on accompanying my fairy princess to ensure she isn’t subjected to any … shall we say, indignities?’
‘No problem. You’re welcome to join in the party afterwards,’ he offered, striking precisely the bargain Sue had been angling for. ‘I take it she does look sexy,’ he added, wanting confirmation.
Caution dictated Sue’s reply. ‘Her figure is definitely curvy in all the right proportions. But I wouldn’t want anyone to get any wrong ideas about why she’s there. This is simply a fairy princess appearance to sing ‘‘Happy Birthday.’’ Correct?’
‘Spot-on. Oh! Forgot to ask. Can she sing? I mean … really sing.’
‘She has toured the country as a professional entertainer. Good enough?’
‘Fabulous!’
This is going to cost you big, Mister, Sue decided, as she proceeded to get party details and settle on the fee, which she enterprisingly quadrupled for both herself and Barbie since it was an after-hours’ engagement … plus danger money. Not that she thought there was any real danger in it but she felt such a consideration was easily justified.
Barbie was stunned at the outrageous fee Sue was demanding for this gig. No problem about making a profit next week, she thought gratefully. Ever since they’d started Party Poppers, they’d been battling to make ends meet, but at least it brought in more regular work than their Country and Western act, and they were settled back in Sydney. Travelling around the country-club circuit had been fun but not exactly financially rewarding.
However, listening to Sue talking on the phone, it was clear the engagement she was arranging was not about entertaining children at all. It sounded somewhat dodgy. Admittedly running a car and paying the rent on this two-bedroom apartment in Ryde, not to mention buying food and paying other bills, meant they couldn’t look a gift-horse in the mouth, but …
The telephone receiver clattered down. ‘Got it!’ Sue cried triumphantly, dollar signs sparkling in her wickedly gleeful green eyes. She could do a great pixie or Tinkerbell with her short, ragamuffin red hair and her slim, rather petite figure, and she was definitely projecting a high degree of mischief right now.
‘Got what exactly?’ Barbie demanded warily.
‘He didn’t even hesitate over the money. Shows he’s really loaded and doesn’t mind spending. I just love men like that,’ Sue bubbled on.
‘Sure he’s not a dirty old man?’
Sue grinned. ‘Could be a dirty young man. Definitely young, thirtyish, and a bachelor. Co-owner of Multi-Media Promotions.’ She cocked her head on one side. ‘Maybe I could ask him to set up a website for us. Get clients from the Internet.’
‘We haven’t even got a computer,’ Barbie dryly reminded her. Sue’s mind invariably soared with wild dreams and pulling her feet back onto the ground was often a difficult task.
She shrugged. ‘Just thinking ahead. This is really good for us, Barbie. All that lovely money and opportunity plus.’
‘When you get your head out of the clouds with silver lining, would you mind spelling out what this is all about?’
She did, virtually dancing around their small living room in excitement as she laid out the party details and the invitation to stay on and mix with the crème of Sydney bachelors. Which Barbie had to concede, did sound interesting, given their current dearth of social life.
‘What’s this guy’s name? The one who booked my fairy princess act,’ she asked, wondering if there was some way of checking out his bona fides before the night.
‘Leon Webster.’
It struck a nerve and the twang was highly unpleasant. ‘Leon …’ Hadn’t Nick Armstrong had a friend of that name, a guy full of slick patter whom he’d linked up with in his university years? Compelled to know for sure, she asked, ‘And his partner’s name? The birthday boy?’
‘Nick Armstrong.’ Sue broke into mad song. ‘Happy birthday, dear Nick. Happy birthday, dear Nick ….’
‘Stop it!’ Barbie yelled, rising from her chair with clenched fists, so violent was the rush of emotion that name had stirred.
Sue stopped dead, gawking at her as though she were mad. ‘What’s the matter?’
As quickly as shock had drained the blood from her face, the memory of the worst hurt and humiliation of her life poured heat back into it. ‘Don’t you remember?’
‘Remember what?’ Obvious bewilderment.
Above flaming cheeks Barbie’s silver-grey eyes turned to icy daggers as she remembered the man who’d broken her heart into irrecoverable little pieces. ‘Nine years ago I sang at Nick Armstrong’s twenty-first birthday party.’
Sue still looked non-plussed. ‘You did?’
‘Yes, I did. And I poured it all out to you at the time … how he …’ She bit off the wretched recollection and faced Sue with blazing resolve. ‘I will never … ever … sing for him again!’
‘But … uh-oh!’ The memory finally caught up with her. She grimaced. ‘The guy you had the big crush on when we were schoolkids.’
‘I was sixteen!’ Barbie’s voice shook with the violence of feeling the memory stirred.
She’d loved Nick Armstrong with all she was, and he’d totally belittled that love by preferring what a sexy tart with a flash car could give him. Which undoubtedly proved he wasn’t the person she’d believed he was, but even telling herself he had to be a shallow rat to be seduced by such superficial assets, did not stop her from feeling utterly crushed.
‘A lot of water under the bridge since then, Barbie,’ Sue pleaded.
True, yet she’d carried that deep misery with her all the way. No other man had even scratched the surface of what she’d once felt for Nick Armstrong. He’d blighted her faith in love and had probably blighted her belief in dreams, too.
‘It’s only a ten-minute act,’ Sue argued. ‘It will put us well in the black financially.’ Her hands lifted in appeal. ‘He probably won’t even recognise you. You had braces on your teeth then. Your hair was short and much fairer, almost white …’
Yes, white and crinkly like a baby lamb’s coat. Baa-Baa Lamb was what Nick’s friends had called her in those days, teasing her for following them around. She’d hated it.
‘You wore glasses instead of contacts,’ Sue rattled on. ‘And well … you were a skinny rake when we were teenagers. You’re much more mature in your looks now.’
‘That’s not the point,’ she flared. ‘I won’t sing for him. You can if you want, Sue.’
‘Oh, yeah … like I’m blond and beautiful and sexy. Come on, Barbie, the fairy princess act is yours, not mine. Besides which, I promised Leon Webster no wig.’
‘Cancel then. Let him find someone else.’
‘And lose all that lovely money? Not to mention the chance to rub elbows—and possibly more—with guys on the rise?’ She shook her head and advanced on Barbie, the glint of determined battle in her eyes. ‘Best for you to sit down, calm down, and think reasonably about this. If the thought of Nick Armstrong can hurt you so much after nine years … you’ve got a real problem, and it’s time you faced it and got over it.’
Barbie sat down, not wanting to fight with her friend but mutinously resolved on sticking to her guns. She would not sing for Nick Armstrong. Never!
‘Remember the other side of our business—Drop Dead Deliveries?’ Sue prompted as she propped herself on the large padded armrest of the chair.
The idea of someone delivering a bunch of dead roses to a party who had injured them had appealed to quite a few clients. It was a relatively harmless outlet for feelings of frustration and anger, a healthy outlet, Sue had argued, when Barbie had voiced doubts. At least it stopped people doing worse and gave them the satisfaction of doing something instead of just being a victim. Which was probably true.
Nevertheless, Barbie preferred to pass on those jobs to Sue who liked doing them. She didn’t. And delivering wilted flowers to Nick Armstrong to demonstrate what she thought of him and his actions was no answer. She wanted no contact with him at all.
‘Forget it, Sue. I’d rather face a tiger snake, and you know how I feel about snakes.’
With an expressive shudder, Barbie leaned the other way, resting her elbow on the other armrest and adopting an air of unwearable-down patience. Her friend could rail at her as much as she liked, but on this issue, she would not be moved.
‘Forget the dead roses. That’s not what I’ve got in mind,’ Sue assured her.
‘Then why bring it up?’
‘Because there’s nothing like a bit of revenge when someone’s done the dirty on you,’ Sue went on, beginning to wax lyrical with their own advertising copy. ‘Having the last laugh is wonderful. You can then get on with your life, knowing you squared the ledger. Clean slate.’
Barbie rolled exasperated eyes at her.
It didn’t stop Sue.
‘Revenge is sweet,’ she declared with relish, her eyes beginning to sparkle again as she spread out her hands like a magician about to perform a marvellous illusion. ‘Now imagine this, Barbie …’
CHAPTER TWO
BARBIE was literally trembling, her nerves a total jangle as she waited to make her entrance. She shouldn’t have let Sue talk her into this. Somehow her friend had plumbed a well of pride, stirring it to the point where Barbie had actually thought that seeing the stunned look on Nick Armstrong’s face might mend the scars on her heart. Especially when she sprinkled stardust over him, turning him into the child, with her being the adult, falsely smiling at him.
Sweet revenge, Sue called it, but right now Barbie seriously doubted that anything about this gig could turn out sweet. She would hate it if Nick Armstrong didn’t recognise and remember her and she would hate it if he did. And it was useless to even try to pretend she had forgotten him.
Nevertheless, she was here, outside the party marquee on Observatory Hill, and it was too late to call off the promised performance. Someone inside was making a speech—Leon Webster?—to bursts of appreciative laughter and occasional guffaws. About a hundred guests, dressed in very trendy evening gear, Sue had reported, definitely a moneyed crowd.
Since the sides of the marquee were clear plastic for the guests to have an unimpeded view of the harbour and its spectacular coathanger bridge, as well as the myriad night lights of North Sydney, Barbie was standing out of sight behind their car while Sue stood at the entrance, watching proceedings until the vital moment came.
At least she could make a fast getaway, Barbie consoled herself, with the car so close by. Ten minutes—just ten minutes—of being a fairy princess and she could be out of here. Sue, of course, didn’t want to leave. She was all dressed up to party in a slinky green satin slip dress—a very sexy pixie tonight—but she’d promised she would find her own way home if Barbie wanted to take off.
A burst of applause made her heart start skittering. Sue held up her hand, the signal to get ready. Barbie briefly closed her eyes and prayed that her wings wouldn’t fall off, that the long train of her skirt wouldn’t catch on anything, that her vocal cords wouldn’t collapse on her, that the stardust mechanism on her wand would work without a hitch. One perfect performance, she pleaded, for this one night.
Leon Webster grinned around at his audience as the applause for his speech died down. ‘Please … hold your seats, everyone. We have a special surprise coming up for Nick, just to add a little bit of magic to the big 3-0 milestone.’
He gestured an over-to-you to the bandleader and stepped off the podium, having stirred a buzz of speculation around the tables. Nick watched his friend striding across the dance floor to their table, a slight swagger to his gait. Leon was certainly in top form tonight. He’d pulled off a hugely entertaining speech and now he was about to pull something else out of his hat of amusing tricks.
Leon was a great party guy, Nick reflected, smiling at the high-octane energy still radiating from him as he dropped into his chair at their table. Over the years they’d had a lot of fun together—all through university, setting up the business and running it. Long-time friends and always would be, Nick thought, knowing each other probably better than any women in their lives ever would.
The band started playing something he didn’t recognise until the clarinetist came in with the melody. Then Nick burst out laughing at Leon. ‘‘‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’’?’
‘The pot of gold is coming, man.’
‘A bit childish, isn’t it, Leon?’ Tanya sniped.
Nick gritted his teeth, biting down on the urge to tell Tanya to take a hike. She’d been in a picky mood all evening—criticising everything—and very soon now he was going to advise her to join another table.
Leon gave her a smile that smacked of sweet satisfaction. ‘I’m giving Nick a touch of romance, Tanya. He needs it.’
Nick felt Tanya bristle and braced himself for another snide sling off at him. The surprised exclamations of ‘Oh, look!’ and ‘Wow!’ from other guests came as welcome relief, drawing their attention to where everyone else was turning. Swivelling around in his chair, Nick was initially hit with stunned disbelief.
A gorgeous glittering blonde with gossamer wings?
Then he took in the total image and barely stifled a glorious bubble of laughter. Leon—with undoubtedly the most wickedly Machiavellian pleasure—had got him a fairy princess with a magic wand! Tanya, of course, would not appreciate the joke, but Nick no longer cared what Tanya thought. Or did. In fact, if a wave of that wand could make her disappear, he’d have no objection at all.
He smiled at the fairy princess. He wouldn’t be leaving her on a shelf for long if he had her in his keeping, and he wouldn’t need any magic to spark off desire, either. She was the best-looking fantasy he’d even seen in the flesh.
And what flesh!
The gauzy silver evening dress shimmered around hourglass curves and the clingy fabric clearly revealed there was no artful underwear involved in creating the sexy effect. This was all living, breathing woman, so perfect she could have emerged from the pages of a fairytale.
Her lovely face was made even more luminous by a smile that could have made gooey mush out of a stone heart and eyes that sparkled through a sprinkling of stardust. A delicate diamanté tiara crowned a long rippling flow of silky blond hair which looked all the more beautiful, framed by the wings with their fine network of silver spokes and loops.
A princess indeed, Nick thought, and hoped she would grant his wish for her to stay on at the party so they could work some magic together.
So far, so good, Barbie told herself, smiling so hard her face ached. She’d made it up the aisle between the tables from the entrance to the dance floor without a falter or mishap. Her surprise appearance was certainly coming off as a surprise and she was intensely grateful that the response from the guests was positive—no cat-calling or anything off-putting, just a buzz of wonder and appreciation and a heightened sense of anticipation for what would happen next.
She spotted Nick Armstrong as she stepped onto the dance floor. Leon had told Sue that he and the birthday boy would be at the table directly opposite where the band was set up, and there they both were, Leon emphatically pointing at Nick to identify him as the guest of honour.
Barbie nodded to show she understood. Nick was happily smiling at her, looking even more handsome than she remembered him, a dark blue shirt enhancing his dark colouring and heightening the vivid blue of his eyes … eyes that were gobbling her up as though she were everything his heart could desire.
For a moment, her heart leapt with treacherous joy … Nick loving the image of her. Then her mind savagely kicked in—lust, not love, you fool. He’d probably have the same look for a curvaceous bikini girl popping out of a birthday cake.
Her gaze slid briefly to the woman sitting next to him—masses of black hair in a tousled mane, pouty red lips and a red dress with a décolletage that had undoubtedly attracted him—out of the same mould as the scarlet tart he’d preferred to true love on his twenty-first birthday.
Barbie hated her on sight. And quite clearly, the woman was making no bones about hating her right back. The fairy princess for Nick was not going down at all well with her.
Unaccountably a sweet sense of satisfaction swept through Barbie. She bestowed an especially warm smile on Nick before turning to walk to the podium where the microphone awaited. Let him lust after her instead of his black-haired bed-pet, she thought wickedly, and put a more seductive sway into her hips to help him focus his attention where she wanted it.
Sue was right about revenge. It would be balm to her wounded soul if Nick ended up panting after her tonight. Of course, it would mean he was a shallow rat, but proving that beyond a doubt might help to finally put him behind her. And then she could crush him and walk away. Walk away forever!
She timed her arrival at the podium to the last chords of ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow.’ The musicians were grinning at her, thoroughly enjoying the effectiveness of her appearance. The bandleader winked his approval and another wicked idea slid into her mind.
‘Remember Marilyn Monroe singing ‘‘Happy Birthday’’ to the president?’ she whispered.
He nodded, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
‘I want that tempo. Okay?’
‘You got it, babe.’
She took the microphone and swallowed a couple of times to moisten her throat. One of her talents was doing a good mimic. She hoped she could pull this one off tonight. It was worth trying, anyway, she boldly reasoned, even if her voice did waver off the note. If it was sexiness that turned Nick Armstrong on, she’d pour it out at him.
The audience settled and hushed. Sue gave her a thumbs up sign from where she still stood at the entrance to the marquee. Leon Webster leaned forward, saying something to Nick at their table. The black-haired sexpot looked furious. Nick flashed a grin at his friend, ignored the woman beside him, turning his back to her as he concentrated his attention on the fairy princess about to sing for him. Not polite attention, Barbie noted triumphantly. Wolfish attention!
The band struck up a vibrant opening chord. Barbie took a deep breath and lifted the microphone close to her mouth so she could purr into it.
‘Ha … ppy birth … day …’ another big breath ‘… dear … Nick …’
A ripple of amusement ran around the marquee. It was pure over-the-top candied honey. Nick tilted his head back in delight, a low chuckle emerging from his throat … music to Barbie’s ears. He was captivated all right.
She repeated the line, putting a huskier edge on her voice. The band paused for her until the appreciative laughter died down, picking up again as she started the third ‘Happy Birthday’, soaring with her as she poured more volume into the high note, then dropping softly to the ‘Dear Ni … ick,’ into which she pumped a load of seductive come-on.
He was not the least bit embarrassed by it. His head was cocked slightly to one side, as though bewitched and bemused, wanting more.
Barbie gave it to him, drawing out the last line and loading it with sensual innuendo as she sang ‘… to … you-ou-ou,’ her lips rounded in a suggestive oval, sending a long, long, visual kiss.
The crowd in the marquee erupted then, guys standing up on chairs, clapping and hooting and whistling, the women laughing and cheering. Leon Webster jumped to his feet, arms up in the air, drinking in the credit of being a magnificent impresario to have brought this off.
But Nick didn’t even glance at his friend. Or at his rollicking guests. His gaze was burning up a line that linked him straight to his fairy princess, and Barbie didn’t feel her face ache at all as she smiled some sizzling heat right back at him. She replaced the microphone on its stand and stepped down from the podium, all primed for the final part of her act.
‘Everybody join in singing now,’ Leon shouted, swinging around and waving up more enthusiasm.
The band broke into a more jolly rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ and everyone who wasn’t already standing, rose to give loud voice in accolade to the one man who remained seated. Hands slid over his shoulders as Barbie walked towards him, her wand benevolently raised—hands with long red nails, claiming jealous possession.
If Nick felt them he showed no sign of it. No appeasing smile was flashed at the woman behind him. His gaze remained fixed on the princess approaching him, feasting on every physical facet of the illusion.
Barbie feasted on the sense of power this gave her. It was more exhilarating than any applause she had ever received for entertaining people. This was real woman-power and she was holding it over the one man in the world she most wanted to hold it over … Nick Armstrong.
Her stomach was contracting in spasms of delight. Her breasts seemed to thrust themselves out more, peaking and tingling. Her hips rolled in voluptuous provocation, her thighs sliding sensuously against each other with every step she took towards him. She was intensely conscious of every part of her femininity, as though it had not only been awakened to a new level of awareness, but aroused to fever-pitch and highly primitive immediacy.
Nick was facing her, still seated, but with his face upturned when she stopped in front of him, barely a step away. It was a miracle she remembered what had to be done with the wand. His eyes were locked on hers, transmitting a blazing quest for more knowledge of her, intimate knowledge of her, and the desire to get it.
‘Make a wish,’ she invited huskily, smiling as she lifted the wand over his head and pressed the button on the silver rod, opening the star at the end of it to release a shower of silver glitter. It speckled his hair, his nose, his cheeks, and the brilliant blue of his eyes suddenly seemed to become more piercing, magnetic in its intensity.
She bent to bestow a fairy kiss on his cheek. Her heart was drumming in her ears, driving the noise around them off to some far distance. She saw his lips part slightly and temptation seized her. Instead of planting her mouth where it should have been planted to seal the wish-spell, an irresistible force dragged it down to meet his.
The moment the first tantalising contact was made was the last Barbie had any control over. Nick surged to his feet, a thumb hooked under her chin, fingers thrusting into her hair, taking a firm grip, tilting her head back, his mouth dominating hers as his other arm burrowed under her wings and scooped her in to a full body blast of his highly energised masculinity.
It was like no other kiss Barbie had experienced in her whole life—a wild, storming kiss that electrified every nerve, a stampeding kiss that reduced her mind to a whirlpool of fantastic sensation, an ecstatically passionate kiss that taught her that lust had an intoxicating excitement that could not be denied. Enthralled by these overwhelming factors, she was unaware of the removal of the wand from her grasp. Indeed, she didn’t even realise where her hands were.
With shocking abruptness, the mouth that had wrought such intense rapture was wrenched from hers. The harsh words, ‘What the hell!’ rang in her ears. Her eyes flew open just as the star at the end of her wand was slammed down on Nick’s head as though it were a flyswatter being wielded with deadly intent. Glitter sprayed from the impact.
‘I’ll give you magic!’ a woman’s voice screeched, and the wand lifted, ready to crash down again.
Nick’s hand hastily disengaged itself from Barbie’s hair and he threw up an arm to ward off its descent. ‘Quit it, Tanya!’ he grated.
‘You quit it!’ came the fierce retort.
Tanya, the black-haired witch! Dazedly, Barbie stared at the furious attacker, feeling oddly detached from the emotional violence playing across the other woman’s face.
‘How dare you kiss her, in front of me!’ she snarled as Nick swivelled to grab the damaging wand from her.
Tanya whipped it out of his reach and advanced on Barbie who was now hugged to Nick’s side but open to frontal assault. The red mouth was stretched into an ugly jeer as her arm swung back to deliver another forcible blow, this time aimed at Barbie’s head.
‘And you … you fairy cow … can milk someone else for sex! Nick is mine!’
It was Leon Webster who caught the wand in mid-swing, tore it out of her grasp and tossed it onto the dance floor. ‘Cool it, Tanya!’ he commanded.
Being de-weaponed, however, did nothing to lower the raging fury. With arms raised and fingers curled like talons, Tanya lunged at Barbie, hissing like a snake.
Nick threw in a shoulder-block. Leon knocked her arms down and pinned them to her sides in a smothering hug from behind. Everything had moved so fast, Barbie was still in a shocked daze, though her body was quivering in reaction to the chaos without and within.
‘Let me go!’ Tanya seethed.
‘Not until you’re ready to behave,’ Leon tersely retorted.
‘Right!’ another voice cracked into the maelstrom.
Sue!
‘No indignities you said, Mr. Webster!’ she reminded him in high dudgeon. Her hands were planted on her hips in aggressive mode as she subjected Nick and Leon—still holding the struggling Tanya—to a look of arch scorn. ‘The crème of young Sydney society?’ she drawled with biting acid.
‘Miss Olsen … Sue …’ Leon started ingratiatingly.
‘My fairy princess gets grabbed and ravished in plain view of a hundred people …’
‘I didn’t anticipate she’d be so …’
Sue cut him off. ‘We delivered precisely what you ordered, sir. Sexy, you said. Indeed, you insisted.’
‘I know. I know. But …’
‘Control, Mr. Webster, was in your court.’
‘I’m doing it. I saved her from being attacked. Tanya, apologise to the ladies.’
‘Ladies! They’re no better than whores!’ she shrieked.
‘More indignities,’ Sue hammered. She glared at Nick. ‘Kindly unhand my fairy princess, sir. I am taking her out of this unsavoury scene.’
His warm, supporting arm was removed, leaving Barbie feeling chilled and shivery. He gestured a plea to Sue. ‘I’m sorry things got out of hand …’
‘Perhaps you’ll now take them in hand,’ Sue shot at him, glancing meaningly at Tanya. ‘I expect Mr. Webster to escort us out of this marquee, guaranteeing safety for my fairy princess. And may I say, sir …’ Her green eyes knifed into Nick’s. ‘… your choice of companion is no lady.’
‘Who the hell do you think you are!’ Tanya snarled.
Sue ignored her, nodding to Barbie. ‘The wand needs collecting.’
Barbie took a deep breath, gathering herself together, then stepped away from Nick, trying to maintain an air of dignity as she set off to where the wand had fallen on the dance floor.
‘No, wait!’ A hoarse plea from Nick.
Barbie hesitated, still feeling the magnetic pull he’d held on her, but she resisted it, realising Sue was right in her judgement to get them out of here, pronto! Nothing good could eventuate from what had already gone on. Revenge, she decided, was a very tricky thing to play with.
‘Please … stay!’
It was an almost anguished cry from Nick this time, curling around Barbie’s heart, squeezing it, throwing her into confusion. Before she could respond either way, her wings were grabbed from behind and jerked from the boned slot in the back of her dress. Crying out in horror at the damage that might be done, she swung around to find Nick juggling the wings with an equal expression of horror, babbling apologies. ‘I didn’t mean … I just wanted …’
‘More indignities!’ Sue accused hotly. ‘Mr. Webster …’
‘For God’s sake, Nick!’ Leon begged. ‘Leave her be and take Tanya from me.’
‘I don’t want Tanya!’ Nick snapped at him. ‘She can go take a flying leap off the Harbour Bridge for all I care!’
‘You scum!’
The black-haired witch broke free of Leon and smashed Barbie’s wings out of Nick’s hands with her fists. They fell to the floor and she jumped on them, stamping her feet all over them like a dervish, her red toenails splayed openly in black stilleto sandals, looking like drops of blood on the silvery gossamer as she wreaked her malicious damage.
Sheer shock paralysed everyone for several seconds.
‘No … no …’ Barbie moaned.
It shot Nick into action, hauling the hysterical woman off her feet and carrying her to the other side of the table where he forcibly held her to prevent any more harm being done.
Barbie stared down at the broken wings. They’d taken her so many hours to create and they’d been beautiful. Tears welled into her eyes. It was like a desecration …
Someone tapped her on the arm and offered her the wand she’d meant to collect. The star was hanging drunkenly at the end of the silver rod. It was broken, too.
‘You’re going to get a huge damage bill for this, Mr. Webster,’ Sue threatened darkly, folding her arms in firm belligerent style.
‘Okay. I’ll pay,’ he promised on a ragged sigh. ‘If we could move now …’
They moved, Leon shepherding both Sue and Barbie through the loud melee in the marquee. The wings were left where they lay crushed. Leon muttered something about a good joke going awry. Sue castigated him for not providing adequate protection. Barbie stared at the battered wand in her hand.
A falling star, she thought.
A wish …
Did wishes ever come true?
CHAPTER THREE
LEON swept into Nick’s office for their usual Monday morning conference, hoping his friend had wiped the birthday disaster from their joint slate, only to be faced with incontrovertible evidence that Nick was still obsessed with it!
‘What are those fairy wings doing on your desk?’ he demanded in exasperation.
Nick lifted a belligerently determined face. ‘I’m going to fix them.’
‘And just how do you propose to do that? Tanya punched so many holes through them with her stiletto heels, the fabric is irreparable.’
‘I am aware of that, Leon.’ He glowered dangerously. ‘Which is why I need to get the fabric matched so I can replace it. I decided you wouldn’t mind lending me your secretary for a while this morning. She’d probably know how …’
‘You can’t use Sharon for personal jobs.’
One black eyebrow lifted in challenge. ‘Can’t I?’
‘This is ridiculous!’ Leon expostulated. ‘I said I’d pay the bill for damages and I will. As soon as it comes in.’
‘I’m going to fix the wings,’ Nick repeated stubbornly.
‘Why?’
‘Because I want to. Because it will mean something when I give them back to her.’
Leon expelled a long breath. Nick was definitely out of his tree. He lifted his hands in a plea for sanity. ‘It was just an act. An act I paid for, Nick. Nothing more. Just a …’
‘It turned into something more.’
‘Okay, she was beautiful. She was sexy. She turned you on. But you don’t even know the woman, Nick. She might be …’
‘I don’t care who she is!’ His hand slammed down on the desk as he stood up. ‘I want to feel that again. I have to know. And I will know.’ He paced around the office, clearly disturbed, his hands moving in agitated gestures. ‘When I kissed her … I’ve never experienced anything like it in my life before. She’s different, Leon.’
‘Fairy princesses tend to be different, Nick. Kind of like dream stuff.’
That perfectly rational point earned a flash of impatience that said he didn’t understand, didn’t have the experience to understand.
‘I can’t let it go,’ came the steely resolve.
Totally out of his tree!
Recognising a brick wall when he saw it, Leon asked, ‘So, have you tracked her down, arranged to meet under normal circumstances?’
Nick’s face twisted with frustration. ‘I called and called the Party Poppers number yesterday and all I got was an answering machine. Then finally, this morning, I reached that Sue Olsen on the phone, but she flatly refused to give out the name and address of her fairy princess. Against company policy.’
Dead right, Leon thought approvingly. Fantasy and reality didn’t mix. Expectations could never be met and it was a stupid waste of time to go chasing them.
Nick grimaced and muttered, ‘But I’ll get it somehow. Sue Olsen said something about Singing Sunflowers before I started in on questions. I’ll ask my sister to book that act for her kids. My fairy princess is a singer … right? She might be a sunflower, too.’
The desperate hope in Nick’s voice told Leon his friend needed help fast or very little creative work was going to get done on the designs they’d been contracted to deliver. He instantly revised his opinion. The sooner hopes and expectations were blasted, the better.
‘No need to go to that trouble, Nick,’ he soothed.
‘I’ll go to any lengths,’ came the punchy retort, his eyes flashing unshakable determination. ‘I have to find her.’
‘Sure you do. I understand,’ Leon quickly inserted. ‘All I meant was … leave it to me. I’ll have the name and address you want before today is out.’
Nick frowned, suspicious of his confidence. ‘How?’ he demanded.
‘I’ll call Sue Olsen, ask her out for lunch as an apology for the mess on Saturday night. Restaurant of her choice. Promise to write out a cheque for the damages bill there and then. Butter her up. Piece of cake. As you well know, I am the best salesman in the business.’
‘What about her company policy?’
‘I’ll find a loophole. Trust me.’
Nick expelled a deep sigh. Then his eyes narrowed. ‘You won’t put her further offside?’
Leon laughed. ‘That feisty little redhead wasn’t offside. She was making hay while the sun shone. A dyed-in-the-wool opportunist, like me. In fact, I’ll enjoy having lunch with her. I have the feeling Miss Olsen and I speak the same language.’
‘Okay. Just don’t slip up, Leon. This is really important to me.’
‘No problem, Nick, I swear. Just shovel those wings off your desk and get to work while I …’
‘I’m still going to fix them. If you’d send Sharon along …’
Leon ungritted his teeth enough to bite out, ‘Okay. But don’t take up too much office time on it. It’s bad business getting secretaries to do personal jobs, Nick, and you’ve got a full schedule, too.’
‘I just want to ask her advice,’ he insisted.
‘Fine! Speak to you later.’
Leon went off fuming.
Women!
He’d got rid of Tanya Wells for good, only to be loaded with another festering problem. There was black irony for you. A fairy princess was supposed to remove trouble not make it. He should have hired a doll, not a real woman. Big mistake, Leon, he castigated himself. Though there was one bright spot.
A very feisty little redhead.
Cute, too.
He wouldn’t mind having lunch with Sue Olsen at all.
Yes, that was definitely a bright spot.
Barbie was still trying to mend the broken wand when the Drop Dead Deliveries telephone rang. She frowned at it. Sue had gone off to lunch with Leon Webster, assured of getting the damages cheque, while she was supposed to deal personally with any bookings that came in. Except Barbie didn’t like answering the revenge phone, as she thought of it. Why couldn’t it have been the Party Poppers one?
‘Business is business,’ she muttered, putting the wand down with a resigned sigh.
Feeling very, very ambivalent about revenge after the cataclysmic meeting with Nick Armstrong, she reluctantly lifted the receiver and pulled an order pad and pen within easy reach.
‘Drop Dead Deliveries,’ she stated flatly, unable to project Sue’s enthusiasm. ‘How may I help you?’
‘I want you to deliver a dozen dead roses to a guy named Nick Armstrong at Multi-Media Promotions.’
Barbie’s heart flipped.
Was this the black-haired witch who had attacked them with the wand and smashed her wings?
‘Your name please?’ she asked.
‘Tanya Wells.’
Tanya! No mistake about that. Even the voice was putting her teeth on edge—like chalk screeching on a blackboard.
‘And I want you to write just one word on the card—Loser!’
‘You don’t want to add your name?’
‘He’ll know who it’s from,’ came the venomous retort. ‘And before we go any further I want to know when you can deliver. It has to be today and the sooner the better.’
The demanding tone raised Barbie’s hackles. This was definitely a woman who wanted—and expected—to get everything her own way. Nevertheless, a paying customer was entitled to the service they paid for.
‘Just a moment while I check,’ she said with surface calm, hiding the maelstrom of thoughts the other woman stirred.
Loser! Well, she had tickets on herself that Barbie would never have given her, but maybe Tanya Wells had reason to believe Nick valued his relationship with her. If he did, he’d certainly been a fool to act as he had at his birthday party. On the other hand, maybe all women had only one value for him, and he thought he’d found another candidate to fulfil that requirement better than Tanya. Was that why he was so hot for Barbie’s name and address?
‘Well? When can you get the dead roses to him?’ Angry impatience.
‘Possibly three o’clock,’ Barbie temporised, feeling distinctly negative about obliging Tanya Wells with anything.
‘Can’t you do it earlier?’
Not if Sue did the job. But what if she went herself? Dressed in a black suit with her hair tucked up under a hat, dark glasses on … the image she’d present would be a far cry from the fairy princess that had taken Nick’s fancy on Saturday night. And if he did somehow recognise her, she could deliver a double whammy of rejection. Serve him right for playing fast and loose!
At least he hadn’t identified her as Barbie Lamb, so she felt safe about that. No humiliating trip down memory lane would eventuate from this. And it would be … interesting … just to see him again, in his workplace.
Temptation was a terrible, terrible thing.
‘We could manage two o’clock if that suits.’ It was almost twelve now. She needed time to get dressed …
‘Perfect! That should screw up his precious work this afternoon.’
Again Barbie frowned. Tanya Wells was a malicious piece of goods and it didn’t sit well, being a partner to her wishes. Yet how could she judge what had actually gone on between her and Nick? Maybe she had just cause … if he was a shallow rat!
‘May I have your credit card details, Miss Wells?’
Barbie completed the transaction, her mind moving into a ferment over the wisdom of taking this job. Nick’s calls to Party Poppers proved he wanted to see her again, but he didn’t know who she was and Barbie found herself totally churned up over what his response would be if he found out. A sexy fantasy was one thing, reality quite another.
She’d certainly found out what it was like to be kissed by him—with lustful desire. And she couldn’t deny she’d felt swamped by lustful desire herself. But undoubtedly it had been no more than a highly heated moment, generated by volatile emotions on both sides. His angry outburst about not caring if Tanya took a flying leap off the Harbour Bridge surely pointed to their having been at odds before Barbie had appeared on the scene as a fairy princess.
Revenge …
For all she knew, Nick himself might have been taking vengeance on Tanya for something the black-haired witch had done!
Barbie stared at the order sheet she had just written out.
Maybe she shouldn’t go.
Sue could do it when she came back from her lunch with Leon Webster. So what if the delivery was a bit late …
No!
She wanted to see Nick for herself, in the cold light of day! Sue was right about finishing this … this hangover from the past. Saturday night was supposed to have achieved that purpose, yet when he’d kissed her … somehow it had just made everything worse, stirring up what she had wanted to put behind her. It would be different today.
Best to go and make absolutely certain there was nothing about Nick Armstrong that was worth harbouring in her memory.
CHAPTER FOUR
NICK propped the broken wings as best he could against the file cabinet, then moved a chair up beside them. The small swatch of damaged fabric he’d cut out of one of them made them look even more forlorn, but the salesman at the Strand Arcade where Sharon had advised him to go, swore the organza he’d subsequently bought was a perfect match. Not feeling quite so certain, Nick wanted to check it truly was right.
He undid the parcel, shook out the full length of the folded organza and draped it over the chair next to the wings. Moving back a few paces, he looked from one to the other and felt both relief and satisfaction. The salesman did know his fabrics. It was exactly the same.
A rather tentative knock on his office door brought a smile to his face. It was sure to be Sharon coming to see if he’d been successful in his lunch-hour quest. ‘Come in,’ he called, not even glancing at the door, his smiling gaze revelling in the evidence of his achievement.
Barbie took a deep breath. It had been bad enough running the gauntlet of curious stares on her way to this door. The receptionist had looked very doubtful about giving directions to Nick Armstrong’s office, and Barbie had been fearful of being called back and more rigorously questioned. But she’d made it to here without being accosted—the all-black funereal garb probably an intimidating factor that had worked for her—and now she was being invited to enter by his voice.
She had to go through with it.
Stupid not to, at this point.
Nevertheless, her heart was thumping erratically as she turned the knob and pushed the door open. Her mind was so highly energised, she had the weird sensation of floating as her quivering legs took the few necessary steps to move into the room to face the man and the feelings she’d come to confront.
Except he wasn’t facing her at all.
Nor even looking at her.
His attention was trained entirely on … her fairy princess wings!
‘See?’ he said, gesturing to a length of fabric draped over a nearby chair. ‘A perfect match!’
Shock held Barbie speechless. Her gaze moved slowly from the silvery organza to the man who had gone to the trouble of acquiring it. Would a shallow rat want to fix her wings? Wasn’t Leon Webster in the process of paying the cost of replacing them? What was going on here?
She wished she could read Nick’s mind. His expression in profile seemed relaxed into a smile, but what did the smile mean? Was he remembering her as the fairy princess, anticipating more from her? Or calculating how to get more?
A convulsive little shiver ran down her spine as she stared at him. He was so very handsome, even in profile, so strongly male. His thick black hair brushed the collar of his white shirt. He had the broad shoulders of a star swimmer and a taut sexy butt, outlined by the grey trousers he wore. She remembered her thighs being pressed to the hard ungiving muscularity of his, her breasts squashing against the hot wall of his chest …
Her nerves leapt in shock as he suddenly turned, looking directly at her, his vivid blue eyes sharp and probing. The lingering smile was instantly wiped from his face and a frown creased his brow as his gaze raked her from head to foot and back again.
Panic plunged Barbie’s mind into a fog of fear and set her heart fluttering in wild agitation. Would he—could he—recognise her, despite the large dark sunglasses and the black hat that covered her hair and dipped over her forehead? Her fingers closed more tightly around the base of the cone of black tissue paper which held the dead roses. She could use it as a self-protective weapon if she had to.
‘Who are you?’ he rapped out.
Relief! He didn’t know. Barbie struggled to re-gather her wits. She was here to do a job, not get shattered again by this man. Every self-protective instinct screamed—get it right and go.
‘Mr. Nick Armstrong?’
Her voice came out too soft and husky. She should have swallowed first. He was frowning more quizzically at her now. Had her tone struck a familiar chord with him? Was he matching it to the way she’d sung at his birthday party?
‘Yes,’ he answered belatedly, his gaze zeroing in on her mouth, studying it with highly discomforting intensity.
Barbie was drawn into staring back at his, remembering how it had felt, how it had aroused such a stampede of wild sensations and needs …
Rattled at finding herself so treacherously distracted from her purpose, she rushed into the set speech for this job. ‘I hereby present you with a Drop Dead Delivery.’
‘What?’ he demanded incredulously.
Her nerves jangled at the sharpness of his tone. Somehow she found the strength of will to step forward, holding out the bundle of black tissue for him to take. ‘This was ordered for you,’ she explained.
‘By whom?’
He didn’t take delivery. His arms remained at his sides, his refusal to accept her offering an innate challenge to her presence, and by stepping closer to him, Barbie had the overwhelming sense of having put herself in a danger zone. It was as though he emitted an electric charge. Her whole body was tingling with an extreme awareness of his powerful masculinity. She wished she could turn tail and run but knew instinctively he wouldn’t let her.
The black tissue paper rustled slightly. She was shaking. Desperate to get past this contretemps with him, she quickly spelled out, ‘I understand from our client that you will know who the sender is.’
‘Someone who wants me to drop dead?’ he quizzed sardonically, still not taking delivery. His eyes were like blue lasers, boring through the dark cover of her sunglasses. ‘Now who would that be?’
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