It Happened in Sydney: In the Australian Billionaire's Arms / Three Times A Bridesmaid... / Expecting Miracle Twins. Margaret Way
my fault,” she said.
“Camilla told me you were standing with Paula.”
“You can safely rule out any push.” She had seen the accusation in Camilla’s eyes, heard it in her voice, so it wasn’t difficult to guess what Camilla had told him.
“Can I now?” he asked, tersely shooting a quick glance at her.
“What happened to Paula anyway? Surely you didn’t leave her behind?”
“Paula came in her own car. She went home in it too. Very upset, or so she made it appear.”
“Poor Paula!” she dryly commiserated.
“Give me a break! “ he retorted. “Paula pushed you.”
“Paula never laid a finger on me,” she said firmly. “Though I certainly didn’t make that spectacular jump on purpose. Paula and I had a few words. It made me less cautious around the pool.”
“So, then, it was a planned manoeuvre?”
“I never said that at all.”
“You’re being very gracious,” he offered.
“It comes very easily to me.”
“Those aristocratic genes for sure,” he pointed out sardonically. “Anyway, I must apologize.”
She half smiled. “I enjoy hearing you apologize.”
“I thought you might. What were you talking about anyway?”
She stared through the window at the beautiful day. People were out and about in their numbers, enjoying the sunshine and their naturally beautiful city with its magnificent blue harbour. They were passing a small park, a lovely sanctuary of mature shade trees and broad stretches of lush green grass. Children were playing around a central fountain, others had claimed the swings, attended by their doting parents. One little girl in a pretty dress patterned with delicate wildflowers waved joyfully at her. Sonya waved back, a tender smile on her face.
“You, would you believe?” she said and gave a faint laugh.
He groaned, shooting her another quick glance. She looked ravishing with her white-gold mane draped like luminous curtains around her face and falling down her back. The pink of the tracksuit was perfect against her white skin. “So are you going to tell me?”
“No.”
He responded with a crooked smile. “If I say please?”
She shook her head. “You don’t need to know. But I will tell you this. She believes I’m a gold-digger. Her words, echoing yours.”
“A woman as beautiful as you doesn’t have to do a damn thing. Much less dig,” he said crisply. “Marcus is one thing. But why would I come into the conversation?”
“My dear David,” she answered with supreme nonchalance, “the woman would kill for you.”
“I assume you’re joking?” There was a decided edge to his voice.
“You should have a word with her,” she suggested. “It’s not every day a girl has two Wainwrights to choose from. She said I was—wait for it—after you as well!”
“She didn’t.” He almost cringed. It was up to him now to put Paula straight. It hadn’t worked before. It would now.
“Paula is suffering,” Sonya pointed out, not without empathy. “If you don’t love her, maybe you should put her out of her misery? Or is it the mother you’re worried about? I understand she’s the mother from hell.”
He laughed. “Who told you that?”
“As if I’d reveal my sources!”
“Raymond.” He hit on the answer. “Did he ask for your phone number?”
“He’s coming into the shop. He’s very attractive. I liked him.”
“He obviously loved you.” His tone was openly goading. “Isn’t that sweet? I’m so enjoying mixing with the megarich.”
He slotted the Mercedes smoothly between two little runabouts. “This will give the neighbours something to talk about,” she said.
“Aren’t you going to ask me up?” He turned his handsome face to her.
“I dare not,” she said sharply.
He gave her a smile that would make the strongest-willed woman go weak at the knees. “Oh, come on, Sonya. Do you get many visitors?”
“Not too many.”
“At the very least you can make me a cup of coffee. I want to see where you live.”
“You know where I live,” she said, in an off-putting tone. “In fact you never even asked for directions.”
“Let’s get out,” he suggested.
“If you must.”
The voice of caution kicked in. This is going to be very, very tricky.
The apartment complex wasn’t the top end of the market, or anywhere near it, but it was attractive, a contemporary design, well maintained, and in a quiet suburban street. There were only four floors. Sonya’s apartment was at the top. There was no one in the lift. Sonya didn’t look at him on the way up. She was worryingly off balance, but determined to hide it. She knew if he touched her—even her hand—everything would change. So he must not touch her. And she couldn’t afford to be too friendly. Her involuntary physical reactions to him were depleting her supply of self-control. There could be no winners here. Not him. Certainly not her. For her there would be punishment of some kind.
They were inside the small two-bed apartment. Sonya had filled it with the sort of things that reminded her of her early life.
Holt looked around with pleasure. “You decorated this yourself?” He had already guessed the answer. “Where did you get all the old pieces?”
She watched in some wonderment as he moved around the living room. David Wainwright here! She almost felt like bursting into emotional tears. She had been so lonely. Marcus, lovely man that he was, couldn’t hope to fill the sad void in her. But David! She berated herself for her weakness. “I picked them up from demolition yards, jumble sales, second-hand shops.” She managed to sound perfectly calm. “It’s amazing what people part with. I had to work on all my finds, of course. I love timber.”
“So do I. This appeals to me greatly.” He ran a hand over the back of a carved chair with very fine finials. It looked Russian.
“I’m absolutely delighted.” She purposely spiked her tone.
Keep it light. Don’t deepen the connection.
The living-dining area was the usual open plan, he saw. There was a galley-like small kitchen with granite bench tops and good stainless-steel appliances. The balcony had been made a relaxing green haven with luxuriant plants. But what she had done to an ordinary space was what impressed him.
“This has a lot of character.” A beautiful scrap of tapestry had been used to cover the top of the cushion on its seat. “Not our sort of character where the emphasis is generally on exploiting the natural light, the sunshine and the indoor-outdoor lifestyle. This is a glimpse into a different world. Neo-Gothic maybe?” He glanced across the room at her, his eyes touching on her face and lissom body.
“There’s that,” she agreed. “I like the way the timbers gleam so darkly against the white walls. The white-tiled floor I managed to cover with a really good rug, as you can see. That set me back a bit but it was worth it. I don’t own the apartment. I rent it.”
“And the big painting on the wall?” His interest was truly captured.
“Mine,”