The Sweetest Revenge

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

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.