True Colours (13 page)

The bathroom mirror, directly opposite the door to the bedroom, picked up the soft ochre walls of his suite – not that he had noticed the colour of the walls. He’d stayed in so many different places over the years that once there was a comfortable bed and hot water he really didn’t care if the bedspread was neon pink. Although he had to admit the Shelbourne was one of the best hotels he had stayed in, one he always looked forward to coming to. Of all the hotels in the world the Shelbourne in Dublin and the Barbizon in New York were his two favourites. In both of them he always booked the same room, was always recognised by the staff. It was like coming home.

Peter had tossed his mobile phone and wallet next to the bed, now picked them up and slipped them into his jacket pocket. This room on the fifth floor was in a corner of the building overlooking St Stephen’s Green. Through the open window Peter could hear the roar of traffic intermingled with the clip-clop of horses’ hooves, the clatter and clamour of the city. He always slept with the window open, hated the stifling heat of a hotel room and now could smell the rain coming. He ambled over to look out the window, the muscles in his thighs stiff, not, he was sure, from his daily workout in the gym. He was almost back to peak fitness but last night with Caroline had used a whole set of muscles that hadn’t been worked out for a while. Beyond the window the sky had darkened, clouds angry and black gathering over the centre of the city like football hooligans on a street corner looking for trouble. Trouble. His middle name.

He paused for a moment, looking out over the Green but not really seeing it, his mind wandering. Was Caroline meeting someone? A pal for lunch or Sebastian? He hoped not. Because right now he wanted to see her again, and he certainly didn’t want to bump into her with her fiancé in tow.

Rolling the idea around in his head, Peter pulled out his mobile phone. It was easy enough to check where Sebastian Wingfield would be at lunchtime. And if he wasn’t meeting Caroline, well...Brown Thomas was only a five-minute walk from this hotel...

Last night had gone way better than he’d expected. Way better. And for a load of reasons that hadn’t been part of the original plan at all. In fact, last night had given the plan a whole new angle.

From the moment he’d got into the cab with her yesterday he could see the attraction. She was gorgeous to look at, of course, he had expected that – gleaming poker-straight hair and model-like figure, the type of waist you could get your hands around. Very trim. And he’d never been attracted to women with big breasts, had always thought more than a handful was a waste. But the moment he’d pulled his door closed he’d realised she smelled delicious. And after a few looks from under those long eyelashes, he couldn’t help himself but ask her out for dinner. ‘Come-to-bed eyes’ they called them, well if anyone had come-to-bed eyes it was Caroline bloody Audiguet-O’Reilly.

Peter had been expecting her to be an impossibly spoilt brat, an arrogant bitch who had nothing to talk about outside manicures and lunch and the latest celebrity gossip. And there was no question that she was all of those things, but what had surprised him more than anything was that she was actually very entertaining company, had a devilish sense of humour that had made him laugh out loud.

And she was damned hot in the sack.

He hadn’t expected that, hadn’t expected quite what the whole package had to offer. The fact that she hadn’t a bloody clue about Sebastian Wingfield’s business interests should have been a problem, but it wasn’t somehow. He shook his head, laughing at himself – somehow between getting into a cab with her yesterday and getting out of a Mercedes limousine last night, the goalposts had moved, big time.

Last night had been something of an eye-opener all right.

SIXTEEN

Sebastian! Alex gasped, her eyes wide.

Sebastian Wingfield was standing behind the black granite breakfast bar which separated the living area in his apartment from a huge open-plan kitchen tucked around the corner. Relaxed, his shirt open at the neck, nautical, red, white and navy stripes, he was pouring himself a cup of coffee from a generous chrome and glass cafetière.

‘
I...’ it took a moment for Alex to catch her breath, ‘I thought I was meeting Jocelyn.’

‘
Did you? Whatever gave you that idea?’

Speechless, shock and irritation bubbling up inside her like a geyser, Alex watched as Sebastian padded out from behind the counter, navy cashmere socks silent on the wooden floor, and moved effortlessly to the window nearest him, his face creased in a frown as he glanced critically outside, like he was checking if the city had turned up to clock in.

The apartment wasn’t the only thing that was impressive. There was something about his scowl that made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck, a shiver head up her spine. His watch loose on his wrist, he had his sleeves rolled up again, the crisp cotton of his shirt pressed to a knife edge down the seams. And he obviously wasn’t planning on going to the office this morning –a pair of faded Levis hugged his hips, the thick woven leather belt emphasising his narrow waist. Gesticulating with his cup, he looked out the window as he spoke.

‘
Bought it for the view. It’s always changing. Thought I’d hate anything modern but it’s very comfortable. No draughts or damp. And every possible gadget. “CLOSE.” He barked and without pausing for breath he turned to Alex and calmly took a sip of his coffee as a pair of huge navy silk curtains began to swish closed behind him.

“
OFF.” Every light in the room dimmed and flicked off.

In a matter of seconds they were standing in total darkness.

Alex’s light to dark vision had never been good. And he knew it. For a few seconds she was totally blind, utterly helpless. Paralysed in the middle of the room, she could feel his eyes on her, could feel him laughing. How many times had he shut her in the dark, in the pantry, in the stables, only to come lunging at her before her eyes had adjusted from the bright light outside? Pushing her up against a wall, plunging his hands down the back of her jeans, or searching for her breasts, his mouth silencing her laughter, his body hard and hot and hungry against hers.

‘
OPEN,” as if reading her mind Sebastian gave the command and the curtains began to part . “ON.”

As the light increased, Alex realised he had moved back behind the counter, was tipping out the old coffee, holding the empty cafetière up as if in question.

‘
Coffee?’

‘
Please.’ Scalding hot and black was what she needed now, but her voice came out as a squeak. Clearing her throat, she tried again, louder, covering her embarrassment by crossing the room to the window and looking out, her arms folded tightly across her chest, her back to him while she fought to regain her composure. She should have guessed; why hadn’t she guessed? Now she was on the back foot AGAIN, feeling a fool, poised on the edge of the chasm of the past that gaped between them. She heard him fill the kettle, click on the switch to boil. Why the hell had she ever agreed to take on this job?

Behind her, the kettle gurgling as it reached boiling point, Sebastian ran his eye over her hunched shoulders, over her neat buttocks, gripped by her jeans, down her legs. Her jacket was well cut, a slim fit, the briefcase slung over her shoulder, Ferrari-red leather, soft and supple. He could almost feel the tension radiating from her, sense her anger seeping from every pore. Brilliant red, just like her briefcase, like the colour of the blood rushing from his heart, pumping right around his body.

Alex Ryan.

After all these years, here she was standing in his living room. And, as if he needed confirmation after their previous meetings, she obviously hadn’t changed one bit, was just as spirited, just as cantankerous as she had been when she was seventeen. And the rain still made her hair go nuts.

Half-smiling to himself, he spooned freshly ground coffee into the pot and sloshed the water over it. She still didn’t turn around, had her eyes fixed on some distant point like it was the most interesting thing she’d seen in years. He could tell she was mad, really mad. But not nearly as mad as he was.

‘
Do you still take it black?’

An almost imperceptible nod of her head.

‘
Why don’t you sit down?’

It was more of a command than a request and suddenly he was behind her, handing her a cup, his aftershave blending with the scent of coffee landing her straight back in her father’s kitchen that first time after they met. He’d turned up on the doorstep with a feeble excuse about getting a fence checked. Her father was out, up at the lake checking the stocks, as well he knew. ‘Coffee?’, ‘Great, if you’ve time.’ The pair of them awkward, self-conscious, tiptoeing around each other like a pair of peacocks in an elaborate courtship dance, their attraction electric.

‘
Thanks.’ Exhaling, trying to still the tremble in her hand, Alex turned from the window, avoiding his eye. Sit down? And face his questions. That was the last thing she wanted to do. Right now she wanted to have a quick look around and get out. Tell him she needed to measure up, that was the thing, tell him she had another meeting and she need to measure up and get out.

‘
I’m a bit pushed for time actually. I just need to get some measurements, a feeling for the light, and I can get down to the suppliers and start working out some ideas. I had hoped to have a chat with Jocelyn.’

Stubborn to the last. ‘Where do you want to start?’

He was standing a couple of feet from her sipping his coffee, one eyebrow raised. Where did she want to start? She winced involuntarily. With the truth…?

‘
Here would be fine. Is that the kitchen?’ Getting away from him as fast as she could Alex strode across to the breakfast bar, taking a slug of her coffee, putting down the cup a little too hard on the granite. The sound echoed in the open space, bouncing off the hard surfaces, the black marble floor, stainless steel appliances jarred against the violins serenading them from a hidden sound system, the orchestra frantic, building to a climax.

‘
Do you want anything done in here?’ Focused, practical, raising her voice over the music, she stuck the tips of her fingers in her jeans pocket. She was safer talking about the job. The violins finished abruptly, the silence deafening.

‘
I’ve no idea. You’re a woman, what do you think?’ His throwaway comment was like a knife between her shoulder blades. Ignoring the jibe, she took one hand out of her pocket and ran her fingertips over the stainless steel counter: spotless, brand new. The next track came on. Piano, soothing and melodic. Thank God.

‘
Does your fiancée like to cook? This is a chef’s kitchen, it’s really well laid out, you’ve everything she could possibly need.’

‘
I like it.’ He paused. Did she detect a sigh? ‘But I don’t think she knows what a saucepan’s for. She’s always had staff. Do you think it needs a bit more colour?’

For a second he sounded like a child unsure of his ground, desperate to please. She could feel his eyes on her back, burning a hole through her jacket, to her skin. Deliberately ignoring the sensation, she put her head on one side, looking around her, searching desperately for ideas. It was a man’s space. Functional, practical… sexy…she curtailed that line of thought as rapidly as it had begun.

‘
You could bring in some Alessi brights; Stefano Giovannoni and Philippe Starck have designed some really funky kitchen accessories for them. A fuchsia plastic fruit bowl would be great, maybe a couple of bright stools, turquoise and lime? Electric colours will work really well with the monochrome backdrop to add a splash of colour. You can follow them through with a colour block clock and aprons and tea towels, to pull it all together.’ She threw him a hasty glance over her shoulder, had to, could feel the mark his eyes had made on her back smouldering. But he didn’t seem to be listening. He was nodding all right, but was looking at his feet.

On the other side of the counter, Sebastian was counting to twenty, struggling to keep his face blank while he fought the image of her fingertips running over the smooth stainless steel, fighting the red hot shot of desire that had routed direct from his groin to his heart the moment she had touched it. She was wearing a pure white guipure lace bra, as hazy as a mirage through the sheer cotton of her shirt, but as she had moved into the kitchen he had caught a glimpse of her cleavage out of the corner of his eye, the full curve of her breast cupped in lace, tantalisingly hidden where the shirt buttoned. And a waft of her perfume. Spicy. Exotic. Sexy. Very sexy. And for a moment he was a teenager again, dizzy with desire, hormones pumping.

‘
That sounds fine.’ What did? What had she been saying?

He turned away from her, suddenly conscious that his jeans might not be loose enough to hide his physical reaction. It wasn’t just his mind she was messing with.

‘
Cool.’ He cleared his throat, this wasn’t going like he’d planned.

For some reason, he’d thought when he got her alone he would come right out and ask her, ask her why she’d left, why she’d just fecked off and turned his life upside down. One minute they’d been getting sweaty on the backstairs, her muffled cries reverberating off the plaster walls, her hand gripping the winding handrail, nails digging into her palm as she tried to keep a lid on her ecstasy, her denim mini around her waist like a belt, t-shirt pulled up over her breasts, the nipple in his mouth as flushed as her cheeks. Then he’d heard footsteps on the stairs below and they’d scrambled to the top, to the doorway of the ballroom where he’d lifted her onto the windowsill, the chance of discovery heightening his passion until her back had arched under him, his forehead pressed against the cold glass, shuddering with need as they climaxed together. And then she’d run, still wet from their union, yanking her t-shirt down, straightening her skirt, throwing a mischievous grin over her shoulder, lips swollen and bruised. Panting and laughing, he had fallen back on the windowsill, heard her heels on the parquet floor as she ran across the room and down the backstairs on the other side.