Vivienne had no intention of cutting her hair. Or of going blonde. Or having a boob job. Neither was she about to cruise bars every night in search of one-night stands. But she was awfully tempted—awfully, awfully tempted—to try to make Jack Stone want her for more than redecorating Francesco’s Folly. She wanted him to look at her with fire in those hard blue eyes of his. Wanted him to want her so badly that he’d stop at nothing to have her.
Vivienne shook her head, her shoulders slumping. Who was she kidding? None of that was ever going to happen. She wasn’t the kind of girl who could turn a man’s head against his will. She wasn’t a flirt, let alone a femme fatale. Before Daryl, she’d had less than a handful of lovers. She was, if truth be told, on the shy side when it came to bedroom matters. Daryl had been the one to pursue her, to seduce her, to make her fall in love with him.
Vivienne frowned at this last thought. Was that true? Had Daryl somehow made her fall in love with him? How odd that sounded, as though she hadn’t had any choice. If there was one thing Vivienne was proud of, it was her ability to make choices in life. To decide. That was what she’d been doing in the bath today—deciding what to do with the rest of her life. Not that she’d come to any solid conclusion in the matter. She’d still been too upset to think rationally. In the end, she’d just lain back in the warm water and listened to music, unaware of time passing and the water cooling.
Jack breaking down the door had shocked the life out of her, not to mention seriously embarrassed her. She hadn’t enjoyed his getting an eyeful of her bare breasts. An exhibitionist, she was not! Which made her subsequent sexual responses to him even harder to fathom. None of it made any sense at all!
When another woman came into the rest room Vivienne scurried into one of the cubicles where, with a bit of luck, she could sit and think in peace. She hated not being able to think clearly.
So what are you going to do about this job offer from Jack, Vivienne? came that stern voice that would pop up in her head on the rare occasions she began to waffle over something. You don’t have to do it. He can’t force you. Come on, girl, make a decision!
Vivienne gnawed at her bottom lip as she considered the pros and cons.
To knock him back would not be the best of moves work-wise, if she wanted to continue being a designer. Jack was a powerful man in the building industry. At the same time, it was going to be awkward, being alone with him in the car tomorrow and then working with him on such a personal project. No doubt they would have to spend more time together than when she usually worked for him. Not an enjoyable situation, if she kept being besieged by hot thoughts about him all the time.
But what was her alternative? Say no and stay home, wallowing in her misery? Vivienne shuddered at the thought. She supposed she could pack her bags and go on a holiday somewhere. But she would still be alone. Alone and unhappy, with nothing to distract her. She’d rather take back her resignation and return to work for Classic Design than do that. Running away never solved anything. You had to face things in life. Face reality!
Okay, so face it, Vivienne! For some weird and wonderful reason today, you’re madly attracted to Jack. Madly attracted and seriously turned on. That’s the truth of the matter.
But there’s absolutely no basis for this sudden attraction, she argued with herself. Jack wasn’t even her type, physically. Vivienne had always found big men intimidating, not appealing at all.
Maybe it was just a temporary aberration. Maybe she’d wake up tomorrow and these mad feelings would be gone. Maybe when she saw him in the morning, she’d only feel what she used to feel for him. Which was a mixture of irritation and exasperation at his bossy ways and less than charming manner.
Soothed by such sensible reasoning, Vivienne decided not to make a hasty decision. She’d wait and see what happened tomorrow. If the drive up there with Jack was a nightmare of frustration and confusion, she’d decline his offer, saying she was sorry but she simply wasn’t up to such a big job at this time.
Surely Jack would understand?
It was a relief to find, as she made her way back to their table, that when she looked over at him, sitting there drumming his index finger on the white linen tablecloth, her only feelings were wry ones. He really was a most impatient man. Impatient, demanding and not happy, unless things were going his way.
Remembering this, Vivienne conceded Jack probably wouldn’t react well if she rejected his proposal. No doubt he would argue with her then offer her more money, neither of which would work. If he knew her better, he’d know she couldn’t be bullied, or bribed into anything she didn’t want to do.
But maybe it wouldn’t come to that. Clearly, she was already over what had taken possession of her earlier. Her brain was now crystal clear and firmly in control of her body.
‘Coffee not here yet?’ she said politely as she pulled out her chair and sat down.
‘Nope. So, is it a yes or a no, Vivienne? Give it to me straight.’
Vivienne almost smiled. Oh yes, things were right back to normal. But she still wasn’t about to be bullied into saying yes prematurely.
‘I think, Jack, that it would be wise for me not to commit myself till I see Francesco’s Folly in person.’
‘Okay, I’ll pick you up early tomorrow morning. Around seven. So don’t go taking too many of those sleeping tablets the doctor gave you.’
Vivienne gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Marion’s a good friend but she talks too much. What else did she tell you about me?’
‘Not much. She did say that you owned rather than rented your apartment. But that was only because I asked her. She didn’t volunteer the information.’
‘I see. And why did you want to know that?’ she asked, thinking to herself that he’d probably been trying to gauge her financial situation. Knowledge was power, after all.
‘No good reason. It surprised me, that’s all, how starkly furnished the place was. It didn’t have your signature warmth and style.’
‘Oh,’ she said, taken aback that he would notice. Her chest tightened as it did whenever she thought of the reasons why her apartment was the way it was. You couldn’t explain something like that. When Marion had asked her the same thing, she’d just said she hated clutter. Of course, it went deeper than that. Much, much deeper.
‘I haven’t long had the apartment renovated,’ she said. ‘The decorating’s not finished yet.’
‘Ah. That explains it, then. I thought maybe the boyfriend had taken some things with him when he left.’
Vivienne rather liked the disdain with which Jack said ‘the boyfriend’ rather than Daryl’s name.
‘Daryl didn’t own anything,’ she bit out. ‘Only his clothes.’ And she’d bought most of them. His salary as a mobile phone salesman didn’t extend to trendy designer wear. God, but she’d been a fool where that man was concerned. Quite unconsciously her right hand went to the fourth finger on her left hand, where her engagement ring had resided until a month ago.
She’d bought that, too, Daryl having promised faithfully that he would pay her back.
But he never had.
Currently, it was languishing in the top drawer of her bedside table, a visual testament to her stupidity.
Vivienne realised suddenly that Courtney Ellison must have paid for the rock she’d been proudly displaying in those photographs published in the gossip section of last Sunday’s paper. No way could Daryl have afforded a diamond that