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He looked up suddenly, his dark features turning intuitively in her direction. Rather than avert her gaze and look elsewhere, she kept her eyes level and her chin square. There was enquiry, a challenge in his bold stare, transmuted as he held her eyes to stark and unadulterated desire.
No man had ever, as far as she could recall, looked at her so brazenly before. The message in his stare was a blatant admission of desire. She had certainly never experienced this flash fire of wildly conflicting sensations. She stood stock-still, caught in the current that passed between them. She recognised that she was a victim of her own primitive cravings, but felt powerless to resist.
With a soft word Callum extricated himself from his partner, who showed an inclination to pout, and moved purposefully across the room.
‘This is Alice,’ Georgina said nervously as he reached her side.
‘Hello, Alice. I haven’t danced with Georgina yet. You don’t mind if I steal her away, do you?’ His eyes only left her face for a second. She was drawn onto the dance floor without even realising she’d relinquished her role as wallflower. ‘This day is not turning out at all as I’d expected, Miss Campion.’
‘It isn’t?’ she said thickly. The numbness that had hit her seconds before was slipping away to be replaced by a swamping awareness of her body and its reactions and this man, this stranger who held her, his body. She’d drunk too much. She’d been building up to this day for weeks; it was the stress, the entire cocktail of emotional havoc that was responsible for the sexual awareness that had sprung to life.
‘You were described to me as very efficient. I wasn’t expecting hair like glossy autumn leaves, soft, buttermilk skin and sultry lips like ripe strawberries.’
She swallowed, frighteningly aware of how much a captive she was of the deep, resonant voice and the glittering eyes. Excitement and a totally alien exhilaration were swirling in her veins. Common sense, with which she knew she was amply endowed, told her that her bruised ego was lapping up this attention because of its traumatised state. But it was difficult to reconcile common sense with the feverish clamour of her blood. She was aware of trembling—a fact he too couldn’t have failed to notice.
‘Very poetic,’ she replied, injecting scorn into her voice and pulling her eyes from the magnetic tug of his gaze. ‘This really wasn’t in the job description, you know.’ She swallowed. How wrong had she been when she’d thought this man was ill-equipped to act as an escort! She’d almost disastrously forgotten that that was what he was. It was the height of stupidity to fall for a look of desire. Do I need to be wanted that much? she thought bitterly. It must be genetic!
’And I’m certain you made that quite clear at the outset.’ His voice held a degree of almost amused affection which made her glance up.
’Perhaps that’s why the agency described me as efficient.’
‘The agency...?’ he murmured sharply. ‘Oh, yes, the agency. I never mix business with pleasure.’ Perhaps this occasion called for a little flexibility, he told himself.
‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ she said uncertainly. God, how could she be such a fool as to fall for a slick chat-up line and blue eyes? This was superficial attraction, basic. She wished hard that she hadn’t addled her senses with all the free wine.
‘I’d be more than happy to be your escort on an unpaid basis.’
She was almost sure he was teasing her and the mockery helped her fight the spell that the music, the atmosphere... and Callum were weaving. ‘I’m flattered, but you’re not the sort of man I’d go out with.’
Callum neatly avoided a collision with a couple who were both much the worse for the champagne. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of staying in,’ he admitted with a devilish gleam in his eyes.
The breathless sensation could not be solely attributed to the neat manoeuvre that had swung her around one hundred and eighty degrees. ‘I hardly think we’re compatible.’ She couldn’t recall ever being propositioned before so the correct response was difficult to gauge. She was almost sure he was joking and it would make her appear ridiculous if she made too much of the incident.
‘Strange. I’ve been getting quite different messages,’ he murmured. One hand slid down her hair, letting the heavy, silky strands slide through his fingers. ‘Could it be you’re afflicted with the great British disease of being unwilling to mingle outside your own class? Would I be a social embarrassment for an upwardly mobile career woman?’ Mild but damning contempt liberally coated his words.
‘Are you insinuating I’m a snob?’ she replied, registering that his scornful words identified him as probably not being British. ‘I take it from your smug, egalitarian tone that you don’t hail from these shores?’
The slight friction of his hand against the nape of her neck was sending flurries of warmth tingling through her body. His other hand had pulled her body close enough against his own for her to be aware of how taut and muscular his spare frame was. The effort to keep her head from flopping forward against the invitation of his solidly muscled chest made tiny beads of perspiration break out along her upper lip.
‘Are you trying to tell me that if I was an eminently respectable professional like your stuffed dummy you’d still be fighting against this attraction?’ His eyes gleamed with disdain.
To compare this temporary insanity with what she had felt for Alex might have made her smile under less stressful circumstances. She might have worshipped Alex uncritically and, in retrospect, pathetically, but she had never felt anything nearly so insidiously primitive in his arms. Sometimes she thought her self-restraint had had a lot to do with his seeking comfort elsewhere.
‘I’ve given up on emotional complications in my life.’ She wished she sounded as confident about this as she had hoped she would.
‘This is more instinctive than emotional, don’t you think?’ he mused, a lick of grim humour in his voice.
When she looked up there was something far more fierce than humour in his eyes—hunger. Her eyes moved of their own volition to his mouth, and the sensuous curl of his lips made her throat close over. The hot, liquid sensation in her belly expanded to flood her already unsteady limbs. The fantasy that passed before her eyes was full of texture and taste. In fact, all her senses seemed to be involved in the concept of this simple, imaginary kiss.
‘There speaks the male of the species,’ she retorted, her voice all the more angry because of the diversions her mind was taking. ‘A physical experience without emotions is an unrewarding one for a woman.’
‘I thought you’d given up on emotions?’ he said with a quirk of one eyebrow. ‘Does this mean you’ve taken a vow of chastity?’
‘Is that so outrageous?’
‘I think for some people celibacy might be a possible solution. People with a genuinely asexual personality, that is—those who pretend things they are incapable of feeling just to conform. It’s not the answer for someone as sensual as you. Repressing your true nature is no answer.’
‘And you’d know all about my personality!’ she snapped scornfully.
‘I think you’re the sort of woman who is afraid to stand up for what she believes in. You’re big on independence and self-sufficiency, but when an opportunity to display the fact is offered you, what do you do? Rush off to hire a body to wear a suit so you blend in prettily. It takes guts to stand out, Georgina,’ he drawled. ‘It seems to me you like to take the safe option.’
His words had homed in on the disquiet she had felt about the entire face-saving exercise. Damn him! she thought, raising her turbulent eyes to his impassive face. ‘I take it I’m meant to be forced to display that I’m full of radical action by sleeping with you—not the safe option.’
He appeared unfazed by her hot accusation. ‘You have been thinking about it, then,’ he said with a small, disturbing smile playing about the corners of his lips.
Her vehement denial died as she met the cynical knowledge in his eyes. She acknowledged she’d just been manoeuvred into a corner by something of an expert. The music had stopped and they stayed stationary in the middle of the floor. Her attention was so concentrated on her partner than she didn’t hear Alex the first time he spoke.
‘Can I have the next dance, Georgie?’
She spun around, eyes wide, her cheeks still flushed from the stimulation of her fencing with Callum.
‘Go ahead, sweetheart,’ Callum urged, his hand comfortably patting her behind encouragingly. He regarded the slightly younger man in an almost indulgent manner that visibly grated on Alex. ‘The least I can do, as indirectly you’re responsible for my meeting Georgina. Incidentally, she hates being called Georgie; didn’t she ever tell you?’ The music started up and he slipped away, his long strides taking him swiftly out of sight into the crowd.
‘Shall we?’
Georgina pulled herself together with a tense smile. She’d been staring after Callum like a hypnotised idiot; embarrassment at this bizarre behaviour brought a fresh rush of colour to her skin. She thought wistfully of the bland partner she’d imagined.
‘You look well, Georgie...Georgina,’ Alex stumbled awkwardly. ‘I hardly recognised you.’
‘Should I be flattered? But it’s still the same old me, Alex.’ Or was she? she wondered, still in daze. The nights of bitterness and heartache, the sense of betrayal and the deep sense of inadequacy she’d fought against with all her will seemed oddly distant as she faced the object of all those thwarted desires.
‘You seem different.’
She glanced at him curiously, surprised that she could be objective. He sounded faintly piqued at the transformation, which consisted mostly of a sophisticated outfit and an air of self-confidence that was three parts artifice.
Had Alex ever looked beyond the surface? she wondered. She’d been very young when she’d met him and malleable in many ways. That had suited Alex. The only contention that had ever arisen between them had occurred when she had insisted she wanted more careerwise than a receptionist’s job. When she’d insisted on going on her business-studies course, commuting home at weekends, he’d been stiffly disapproving.
‘Everyone grows up, Alex,’ she observed now, with a wistfulness partly reserved for her lost naïvety. Everyone had known about Alex and Harriet for weeks before she had caught on. The constriction in her throat swelled.
‘I treated you pretty badly.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, noticing he was the first one to look away. She’d wanted to make him wonder whether he’d made the right decision and, if she read the signs correctly, that was exactly what he was doing. Strange how little pleasure it afforded her. ‘Lovely wedding.’
‘I wanted something simple.’
‘Harriet didn’t,’ she observed with a faint smile. What Harriet wants, Harriet gets, including my man!
He shrugged awkwardly and she worked hard not to tangle her feet with his. Dancing with Callum had been as easy as breathing—a strange combination of instinct and rhythm. The contrast made her frown.
‘Emotional hothouses, weddings,’ she said lightly.
‘I miss you. I didn’t realise how much...’
The words she’d longed to hear filled her with a sudden deep panic. ‘I don’t think you should be saying this, Alex.’ He’d manoeuvred them into a quiet alcove and the drop in volume meant that her voice sounded loud.
‘Neither do L’
Startled, she spun around to see Callum watching them, leaning with negligent ease against a fake Doric pillar.
‘I was just...’ Alex blustered, letting go of Georgina and backing off a step.
‘I know exactly what you were doing, mate.’ The smile on Callum’s lips was benevolent, but the expression in his eyes made the younger man blanch. ‘I suggest you lie in the bed of your own making and leave Georgina to lie in hers. Speaking of which, darling, I’ve managed to get us the last room available. You’ve had too much to drink and I’m not about to drive that death trap of yours.’
‘But...’ she began, alarm and outrage in her eyes.
‘You don’t need to be in work until Tuesday so why worry?’
‘See you, Georgie,’ Alex muttered, sliding away.
‘Oh...what? Yes, sure.’ To him their exchange must have seemed incredibly intimate. A light squabble between two lovers.
‘Aren’t you going to thank me for rescuing you? Or didn’t the lady want to be rescued? Seducing the bridegroom on his wedding night might be the sort of revenge your soul craves.’
She was so angry that she felt as if she’d explode with frustration. ‘My cravings are none of your business. How dare you interfere?’ she breathed wrathfully. ‘I can only hope your little contribution was pure fiction.’
He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘How had you intended getting home? You’ve been knocking back the vino with splendid abandon all afternoon.’
The way his eyes moved over her body as he said ‘splendid abandon’ made her head spin slightly and she didn’t think ‘vino’ had anything to do with her reaction. ‘I can’t afford this place,’ she said in a hushed tone. The rather over-the-top grandeur of the establishment was not to her taste and she was sure the prices were even less so.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll pay.’
‘You seem to be very affluent all of a sudden,’ she said with suspicion.
‘Well, at least you’ve not objected to spending the night with me,’ he said, pleased to see the distrust swallowed up by horror.
‘I have no intention of spending the night with you. I’ll spend the night with Mother.’
‘Who left a little earlier... and she wasn’t alone. You might not be welcome there.’
She swallowed, admitting the accuracy of his surmise. ‘How did you know I don’t need to be in work till Tuesday? ’ she said, suddenly realising a point that had been niggling at the back of her mind.
‘You must have told me,’ he said carelessly. ‘Whilst you were elaborating on your amazingly responsible position.’
She sucked in her breath wrathfully. The faint curl of disdain on his lips made her stiffen. ‘I wasn’t aware I said anything of the sort. You seem doubtful that I’m capable of working.’
He shrugged. ‘It depends on how far you got due to your pretty face.’
Now she knew he was being sarcastic; pretty was one thing her face was not! ‘I got where I am due to my own merits and a bit of luck. Much like anyone else, irrespective of sex. Just because you rely on your looks and dubious charm, don’t assume we’re all tarred with the same brush.’
‘From what you said, your boss took a bit of a shine to you. I suppose your high-flown morals didn’t let you take advantage of the fact?’ he responded drily.
‘Oliver merely gave me an opportunity to prove myself,’ she said stiffly. The idea of Oliver being influenced by anyone or anything beyond his precious company was laughable. ‘But if his successor has the same biased outlook as you I probably will be out on my ear shortly. I would imagine he’ll be advised to do just that,’ she admitted, a frown pleating her smooth brow.
On paper her credentials were not impressive and she seriously doubted whether she’d have the opportunity to prove her worth. There were several senior executives who had resented the responsibility Oliver had given her and they’d probably already fed the nephew from the outback enough to poison her chances of staying on.
Back-stabbing was an art form in the advertising world and she’d already suffered a good deal of spiteful innuendo concerning her promotion to Oliver’s right hand. He might have been past middle age but he had been virile and active enough to give the scandalmongers fuel for their fantasies.
‘Won’t you get a fair hearing?’ Callum asked, his expression hard and assessing as he watched the expressions flitting across her face.
She shrugged. ‘The nephew is some farmer from the outback,’ she observed dismissively. ‘I doubt very much if he’ll have an opinion of his own.’ After Oliver’s dynamic, hands-on management style she doubted if anything was ever going to be the same again.
‘Still, you could hold his hand and make yourself as indispensable as you did to the uncle.’
The soft voice held a strange underlying acid note that made her eyes narrow and look beyond the languid air of casual interest. The blue eyes gazed back at her benignly, his lips drooped at one corner in a lopsided smile; it was an expression that was somehow strangely familiar. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
‘I’ve no desire to hold anyone’s hand and that goes for you too,’ she said forcefully, her mind returning to her more immediate problems. ‘I can’t possibly spend the night with you.’
‘Why not compromise? Sleep off your afternoon’s excess and you can drive us back this evening.’
His simple statement made all her worries about imminent seduction suddenly seem foolish. She cursed her overreaction. Verbal sparring of a sexual nature was probably as mundane as discussing the weather to him. That was what he did—made lonely women feel attractive. Mortified, she felt her spine stiffen defensively. He was probably more worried about getting back to town as early as possible. She was, after all, just another job, like any other lonely woman.
‘That sounds reasonable,’ she said briskly. Pride brought her chin up to an aggressive angle. ‘What will you do?’ It was deeply embarrassing to think she’d convinced herself that he was actually interested in her.
‘Sleep, if you’ve no objection,’ he drawled. ‘My body clock’s still haywire. I’ve been out of the country.’
‘You’re Australian?’ He nodded, a wing of dark hair flopping into his eye; he brushed it back impatiently and her imagination was captured again by the long, elegant shape of his hands and fingers.
She closed her eyes and shook her head; the whole procedure took seconds but it did help focus her thoughts. The southern hemisphere seemed to have played a large part in her life recently, what with Oliver’s nephew coming from there too. She could have done without either!
‘I’m sure we can come to a civilised arrangement. I’m very sorry to delay you,’ she said formally. ‘Perhaps you could arrange some coffee for me?’ About time I started acting like the cool career woman I’m meant to be, she thought.
A dark brow shot up and he gave her a slow, sardonic stare. ‘Miss Brisk Efficiency,’ he drawled, preparing to move away. ‘Perhaps, as I’ve fulfilled my contract, you should intersperse your commands with the odd please and thank-you.’
She flushed at the remonstrance and gritted her teeth resentfully. She knew she was overcompensating for her ridiculous behaviour earlier but she wasn’t about to admit it to him.
She was still staring after Callum, reflecting that he was the most appalling man she’d ever met, when Harriet appeared with a rustle of silk at her side. The bride got right down to the subject which was making her lips quiver with temper.
‘I might have known you’d try and ruin my day out of pure spite!’
The sheer inaccuracy of this statement temporarily robbed Georgina of speech. ‘Why would I want to do that?’ she said eventually, her tone meant to deflate what looked like a volatile situation. The last thing she needed right now was a scene.
‘As if you didn’t know. I suppose you don’t know Alex hasn’t taken his eyes off you.’ The cold eyes swept disparagingly over Georgina’s finery. ‘You really don’t have the figure to take that outfit.’
‘Then I expect Alex is only marvelling at my bad taste,’ Georgina responded, her temper wearing paper-thin by this point. ‘You really have no need to worry, Harriet; I have no aspirations to take your husband from you. I’m not alone, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
‘What’s wrong, Georgie—hasn’t he found out yet you’re frigid?’ The blue eyes sparkled with malice as she gave a brittle laugh. ‘Alex said it was like being in bed with a statue. I’m not worried about you,’ she sneered. ‘I just didn’t want you to make a fool of yourself.’ With a final, triumphant smile she swept away, her long skirts hissing on the floor.
Georgina was secretly amazed at how she’d managed to keep her own expression blank. Each poisonous dart had hit its target but she’d never let the other girl know. She could have told her that Alex had in fact slept with his new wife before her, but she didn’t want to stoop to the same name-calling tactics as her cousin.
The timetable of events only made her own humiliation worse. It was ironic that when, after resisting Alex’s attempts to make their relationship more intimate, she had finally felt she was ready he had already been unfaithful to her with Harriet. I gave my all and it obviously compared unfavourably with what he already had on offer, she thought with bitter self-mockery.
‘You look pale. Are you all right?’ Callum asked, returning with a cup of coffee.
‘Sorry, did you say something?’ she responded vaguely. It was hard to put the bitter recollections aside and concentrate on the present.
‘The girlie chat with the blushing bride has left you looking like a basket case,’ he observed bluntly.
‘Well, I’m not about to share all the grisly contents with you,’ she said, straightening her shoulders. ‘So you’ll have to settle for a coffee while I go and apply some blusher.’
Callum found himself admiring the determined set of her jaw and the ramrod line of her slender back as she wound her way through the throng. Whatever else she was, Georgina Campion had guts.
Georgina had had two cups of coffee, the bride was ready to leave and Georgina’s head was splitting. They were all crammed in the foyer for the ritual send-off when Harriet deliberately caught her cousin’s eye; the look of triumph was malicious. Recalling her encounter with Alex earlier, Georgina could almost feel sorry for her, with the emphasis on almost She could certainly meet the stare with perfect equanimity—a fact that made Harriet’s pretty features harden.
Georgina wondered what she had ever done to make the girl dislike her so much. She watched as Harriet’s arm moved in an arc and the bouquet hit her full-force in the face, knocking her hat off in the process. The action brought a flurry of giggles and high-spirited comments. Georgina felt her eyes water with pain but smiled through the tears.
By the time Callum retrieved her hat it had been trampled on. She was clutching the rather limp flowers unenthusiastically as he dusted it down and handed it back to her. He watched the narrow-eyed, dispassionate intensity as she brushed a stray tear from her watering eyes.
‘There goes a week’s pay,’ she observed, dropping it in the nearest waste-paper bin. She didn’t need any reminders of this day.
‘Georgie, can we offer you two a lift anywhere? Your mother’s?’ Uncle George included Callum in the good-natured offer.
‘We have a room actually, but thanks anyway,’ Callum said, speaking for them. She felt the weight of his hands once more on her slumped shoulders, wielding the strength of tensile steel as they rested deceptively lightly upon her.
‘I think you can drop the role now,’ she snapped as her uncle moved away with an affectionate admonition not to be a stranger. ‘You’ve more than fulfilled your obligations. On second thoughts your last official duty can be to get rid of these.’ Her nose wrinkled in distaste as she pushed the bouquet into his hands.
‘Aren’t they supposed to predict your imminent nuptials? ’ he said, flicking a white rose with his finger.
‘Not if I’m conscious,’ she said feelingly.
‘I think that’s called tempting fate, Georgie.’ He drawled the hated appellation with deliberate relish. ‘Or should I revert to Miss Campion now my role as official escort is over?’
‘You could revert to silence,’ she suggested, eyeing her tall, elegant companion with grim dislike.
‘Feeling hung-over, are we?’
‘I don’t suppose you drank anything?’ she snapped sarcastically.
‘Nothing alcoholic,’ he agreed. ‘After long-haul flying that would have been a mistake. You’re one of my first...’ he raised his eyes and she saw he looked peculiarly amused ‘...assignments since I arrived.’