‘He’s hot. And, let’s face it, Cally, you could do with some hot.’
Instead Cally iced over, and spoke slowly and clearly, her private school timbre carrying across the room. ‘I do not need a gigolo.’ She would never, ever pay someone to be in her company.
She finally chanced another look at the man Mel was so brazenly bidding for. He stood alarmingly close. Stock-still with his gaze locked onto her. His glance flickered between her and Mel and she knew he’d heard her last sentence. His eyes narrowed very slightly. Anger touched his features as his jaw tightened. Mel’s arm was still up, ramrod-straight, right by her ear like the girly swot at school who knew the answer to the question before the teacher had even finished asking it.
She looked back at him and saw his attention was now wholly on her. She wanted to shrivel up and slither off behind a rock somewhere.
Then she heard the applause, the cheering. The blonde had retired from the race. The catch of the day was hers for the weekend.
‘Fantastic!’ Mel was practically frothing at the mouth, looking around for an official. ‘Take the money. Take it. Take it.’
Stonily Cally reached into her bag, pulled out her pen and cheque-book. ‘How much was he?’
‘Does it matter? You have millions, Cally.’
Cally signed the cheque, then handed it to Mel to fill in the blank bits. ‘Consider him a pre-wedding present. A last hurrah before you’re bound into monogamy.’
‘I’m already bound and well you know it.’ Mel laughed. ‘This one is all yours.’
‘Not interested. I’m nipping away now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’
‘Cally …’
Happily one of the organisers swooped on Mel, animated and excited and thanking her for such a large bid.
Cally took the opportunity to escape. Clutching her bag, she rose from the table, then realised she was going to have to get past him somehow. And he wasn’t budging. He stood, tall, silent, waiting by the table—waiting to wait on her. The butterflies in her tummy were beating their wings furiously and she fully regretted every single truffle. She turned quickly, stepping as fast as her short legs and stupid high heels would allow. As he refused to move and she refused to look at him, she had to brush past him, arm connecting with arm, hip connecting with hip. Goose-bumps spread over her skin and she quelled the shiver, striding out as fast as she was able.
She felt him turn back to Mel, but she blanked him from her mind, blanked the fire of the brief touch from his body. She headed to the exit.
Damn. The press hound from the society mag was striding towards her with purpose. Cally could only come up with the age-old escape—the bathroom. She’d had way more than enough excitement for the evening. If she waited a while in there the show would be back on with all eyes to the front and she could slip out the back unnoticed.
Inside the bathroom she hid out in a cubicle for a few moments until it sounded as if there was no one else in there. Then she went to the basin and washed her hands, running the cold water over her wrists to cool the blood racing in her veins.
Mel had only meant for her to have some fun, but she didn’t know how hideous it had made Cally feel. She’d never forget the moment she’d found out about Luc—the hideous humiliation. Beautiful men weren’t interested in Cally, not unless they were paid to be.
Cally closed her eyes against her reflection in the mirror.
Not going there.
Instead she thought of her father. He’d been loving and warm and kind and had made the fact that her mother hadn’t wanted her merely a niggle in her heart, not an aching tear. But he’d died and Cally had been left alone—and mother and daughter had been forced upon each other. Alicia the supermodel hadn’t been prepared for the plump frump that had been her pre-pubescent daughter. Cally had tried, she’d really tried. But at five feet two she was never going to live up to her mother’s five-foot-eleven grace and beauty and expectations. Under her roof, she’d been more alone than ever. And then there’d been Luc.
Cally frowned at the way her thoughts had come full circle. Then the music and noise coming from the bar increased in volume. The show was back on. Breathing a sigh of relief, she knew she could escape now. She pulled open the heavy door and walked out from the bathroom. And there, standing right in front of her, blocking her path, was her catch.
His hands rested on his lean hips, pushing his jacket back and revealing the white business shirt, emphasising the broad shoulders and the ‘I’m in charge’ air. What was it about men in suits? He looked authoritative, aggressive and ready for action. For a long moment he looked her up and down. She was doing the same to him but trying to be a whole lot more subtle about it, and as she tried not to slide into a heap she stiffened—standing straighter than a steel pipe.
Finally he spoke.
‘When and where do you want me?’
CHAPTER TWO
NATURALLY ‘here and now’ was the first reply to spring to mind. Naturally Cally bit her tongue and looked anywhere but at him. She cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘This weekend. You. Me. What do you want me to do for you?’ He was being deliberately provocative—surely?
She cleared her throat again. Got her larynx working. ‘This was a mistake. My friend was doing the bidding. Yes, I paid the money, but you can go. Your weekend’s free.’
‘But I’m yours this weekend.’
She tried to smile politely but knew it was an abysmal effort. ‘Look, that’s really nice. But you don’t have to take this that seriously. I just wanted to donate some money on the quiet, my friend thought it would be fun to bid. So.’ She shrugged. ‘There you go. You don’t have to do the man-power bit.’ She snuck a look at him then and immediately regretted it. Mr Tall, Dark and Determined stood over her and she was melting.
‘She said you’d do this—try to get rid of me. She said I wasn’t to let you and that if I wasn’t with you for the weekend she’d tell the organisers and the money wouldn’t go to charity.’
Cally rolled her eyes. ‘As if they’d send my cheque back—they don’t care what happens now. They have the money. That was the point.’
‘I made a promise. I always deliver on my promises.’
Why wouldn’t he go away? Why was he so insistent on doing this when it had been so apparent she’d ticked him off? But then, maybe that was why. ‘Look, if you have to do something, go and clean my friend’s car.’
‘She said she doesn’t have a car and you know it. She said it’s your car that needs a clean.’
Her irritation and discomfort started to leak through her fragile façade. ‘I’m quite sure you’ve got better things to be doing with your time this weekend.’ He’d have plenty of fish to fry—container-loads, in fact. Frustration forced her into unaccustomed rudeness—again. Without even a nod for goodbye she turned and started walking.
He didn’t block her, rather kept pace every step of the way to the door, shielding her from the audience behind him.
‘What are you doing?’ she muttered.
‘Sticking with you until you figure out my first task.’
She waited until they’d got outside and along the footpath away from the bar. ‘This is ridiculous. You can go.’
‘I never shirk my responsibilities.’ He smiled then. One of those smiles designed to garner the acquiescence of anything and anyone in its path. But she also saw steel in his eyes. It didn’t pay to look too hard into their sea-green depths. They’d have her saying yes faster than any of his other,