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Damn, even hearing the guy’s name made her belly knot with trepidation.
‘I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.’
‘Not about work.’ Ruby rolled her eyes. ‘About what I saw out the back.’
Sapphie didn’t want to think about what had happened out the back. She didn’t want to give credence to a single thing the flirtatious charmer had said or done.
She surreptitiously rubbed the back of her hand where the imprint from his lips lingered to prove it.
He’d been goading her like in the bad old days, nothing more. The fact she’d let him get to her—not good.
She was older and wiser now. Time to prove she could work with him without letting his deliberate barbs affect her.
‘He could be good for you.’ Ruby wound the end of her ponytail around her fingertip in the same absentminded way she did while pondering her next creation. ‘Bit of fun. Nothing serious. Clear out the cobwebs, metaphorically speaking.’
Sapphie grabbed the nearest teatowel and chucked it at Ruby’s head. Her sister ducked, laughing.
‘You’re right about me needing to date again but I wouldn’t touch Patrick Fourde if he was the last guy on earth.’
Ruby smirked. ‘Six-month supply of Tim Tams says you can’t last a fortnight without getting up close and personal with the dishy Patrick.’
‘Too easy.’ Sapphie held out her hand to shake on the bet, looking forward to Ruby stocking her pantry with the irresistible rectangles of decadent chocolate. ‘You’re on.’
Patrick headed for the nearest café. He needed a caffeine shot. Fast. Maybe the jolt to his system would snap him out of his weird funk. A funk that had started around the time he’d laid eyes on Sapphire Seaborn again.
He shouldn’t have come, he knew that, but he’d been unable to stay away.
The cool blonde had always had that effect on him. There’d been something about her in high school that had made him want to ruffle her poised, pristine exterior.
Rather than hating the way she’d turned up her pert nose, as if she had better things to do than hang out with him to study, he’d made it his personal mission to see how far he could push before she’d crack.
She never had, and seeing her name on his meeting manifesto was the reason he’d shown up today.
Curiosity. Was she still the same uptight prig? Would he be able to work with her? Seaborns were the best in Melbourne, and that was what he needed for his venture. But being stuck alongside Miss Prissy for the duration of the Fashion Week campaign wasn’t his idea of fun.
Until he’d fired his first barb. She’d parried it and had unexpectedly catapulted him back in time. For some unknown, masochistic reason he’d wanted to annoy her all over again for the fun of it.
That kiss on the hand had done it too. He’d seen the initial flash of antagonism in her icy blue stare, the tiny frown between her perfectly plucked brows.
But he’d also glimpsed an uncharacteristic softening, a thawing of ice to fire, when he’d lingered over her hand, and that had shocked him. Almost as much as his physical reaction.
Hand-kissing a turn on? Who would’ve thought?
It reminded him of the other time they’d kissed, when he’d managed to delve beneath her frosty veneer and prove she wasn’t as immune as she’d like to think.
That was what he had to do if he were to work with her. Keep her off-guard. Maintain control. And show he wouldn’t tolerate her coolly disdainful treatment.
This time he had something she wanted and she must want it real bad. For Sapphire to approach him for business…Well, Seaborns must be in a worse place than the rumours he’d heard.
Seaborns. He glanced at the elegant art deco cream façade, at the gleaming honey floorboards beneath discreet downlights, at the shimmer and sparkle of exquisite gems behind glass.
And he remembered. Remembered the night he’d brought her home from the graduation dance because her lousy date had been too drunk to drive. Remembered standing in this very spot outside the showroom, reverting to his usual taunts to cheer her up, hating the way the first time he’d seen her vulnerable, seen beneath her outer shell, had made him feel sad rather than victorious.
He remembered the sounds of soft laughter from nearby restaurants, the distinct clang of a tram bell, the faintest wistful sigh a moment before he’d ignored his misgivings and kissed her.
It had been a crazy spur-of-the-moment thing to stop her lower lip wobbling. He’d liked teasing the Ice Princess. He would have hated seeing her cry.
So he’d had no option but to distract her.
He’d expected a kiss to do that and then some.
The part where she’d combusted and he’d lost control a little…Not supposed to happen.
Who would have thought beneath Sapphire’s glacial surface lay a bubbling hotbed of hormones?
He’d kissed a lot of women in his time, in the endless whirl of parties and fashion events throughout Europe, and dated some of the hottest women in the world, but that kiss with Sapphire Seaborn…
Something else.
Not that he deliberately remembered it, but every now and then, when a blue eyed-blonde gave him a haughty glare, he’d remember her and that brief moment when he’d glimpsed a tantalising sliver of more.
Back then she’d shoved him away and fled. Wanting to ease her mortification—and maybe rub her nose in it a little, because old habits died hard—he’d tried calling once, e-mailed and texted a couple of times.
Predictably, she’d raised her frosty walls and he’d backed off. It hadn’t bothered him. He’d left for Paris a week later.
Now he was back, ready to take the Melbourne fashion scene by its bejewelled lapels and give it a damn good shake-up on his way to achieving his ultimate goal. And if he ended up working with Sapphire he’d rattle her too.
As he took a seat at an outdoor table at the café next door and ordered a double-shot espresso he remembered her horrified expression when she’d first caught sight of him.
Shell-shocked didn’t come close to describing it.
Only fair, considering he’d felt the same. When he’d first seen her, arms stretched overhead, revealing a flat, tanned stomach that extended to her bikini line courtesy of ragged, low-riding yoga pants, he’d felt like he had that crazy time he’d leapt into the Seine on a dare: breathless, shivery, out of his depth.
He’d never seen her so casual or without make-up and it suited her—as did the layered pixie cut that framed her heart shaped face and made her blue eyes impossibly large.
Usually lithe and elegant, she’d appeared more vulnerable, more human than he’d even seen her, and it added to her appeal.
She’d been hugely confident as a kid. Cutting through a crowd or cutting him down to size. When Sapphire spoke people listened, and he’d been secretly impressed by her unswerving goal to help run the family business.
Not many teens knew what they wanted to do, let alone actually did it, but Sapphire had been driven and determined. And she hadn’t had time for a guy who plied his charm like a trade, getting what he wanted with a smile or his quick wit.
So he’d tried harder to rile her, needling and cajoling and charming, buoyed by her reluctant smiles and verbal flayings.
Sapphire Seaborn gave good putdowns.
If it hadn’t been for Biology during their final year of high school he would have thought she really didn’t like him. But being her lab partner, being forced to work with her, had shown him a different side to Sapphire—one that had almost made him like her.
Because beneath the tough exterior was a diligent, devoted girl who hated to let anyone down. Including him. Probably the only reason she’d put up with him during their assignments.
He admired her unswerving loyalty to her family, her dream to expand Seaborns. Especially when he’d had no aspirations to join Fourde Fashion and all it entailed.
Ironic how, ten years later, he was back in his home city, making Melbourne sit up and take notice of the newly opened Fourde Fashion his priority.
He had a lot to prove to a lot of people—mainly himself—and he’d take Fourde Fashion to the top if he had to wear shot silk and stilettos to do it.
The waitress deposited his espresso on the table and he thanked her—a second before he caught sight of Sapphire leaving Seaborns.
His gut tightened as she glanced his way, her gaze soft and unfocused, almost lost.
Her vulnerability hit him again. He’d never seen her anything less than über-confident and he wondered what—or who—had put the haunted look in her eyes.
She hadn’t caught sight of him so he stood and waved her over.
A slight frown creased her brows as she worried her bottom lip, obviously contemplating how to flee. He took the decision out of her hands by ordering a tall, skinny, extra hot cappuccino with a side of pistachio macaron, loud enough for her to hear.
Her eyes narrowed as she stalked towards him, the yoga pants clinging to her lean legs like a second skin, a pink hoodie hiding the delectable top half he’d already checked out.
Sapphire might be petite, but the way she held herself, the way she strode, made her appear taller. In heels, she was formidable.
He liked the grass-stained purple sneakers with diamante studs better.
‘Care to join me?’ He pulled out a wrought iron chair. ‘I ordered your favourites.’
‘So I heard.’ She frowned, indecisive, as she darted a glance inside. Probably contemplating how to cancel the order without offending. ‘Rather presumptuous.’
He pointed to his espresso. ‘I hate drinking alone.’
‘I’m busy—’
‘Please?’
He tried his best mega-smile—the one she’d never failed to roll her eyes at.
She didn’t disappoint, adding an exasperated huff as she slid onto the seat. ‘Tell me you’re not still using that smile to twist people around your little finger.’
He shrugged. ‘Fine. I won’t tell you.’
‘Does it still work?’
‘You tell me.’ He crooked a finger, beckoning her closer. ‘You’re here, aren’t you?’
‘That’s because I haven’t had my cappa fix this morning.’
‘And you can’t resist anything sweet and French.’
She snorted. ‘Surely you’re not referring to yourself?’
‘I’ve lived in Paris for ten years.’ He leaned towards her, close enough to smell the faint cinnamon peach fragrance of her shampoo—the same one that had clung to his tux jacket after their kiss. ‘And you used to find me irresistibly sweet.’
She pretended to gag and he laughed.
‘Let me guess. You’re trying to impress me by remembering my favourites after all these years?’
‘Not really.’ He pushed around the sugar sachets in the stainless steel container with his fingertip. ‘Hard for a guy to forget when you had the same boring order every time we studied for those stupid Biology spot tests.’
She ignored his ‘boring’ barb. Pity.
‘Remember the plant collection assignment?’ She winced. ‘Just thinking about poison ivy makes me itchy.’
‘Though it wasn’t all bad.’ He edged closer and lowered his voice. ‘As I recall, the human body component in last semester proved highly entertaining.’
Her withering glare radiated disapproval. The arrival of her coffee and macaron saved her from responding.
He let her off the hook. Plenty of time to stroll down memory lane if she wowed him with her presentation, as he expected, and they ended up working together.
It would be interesting, seeing if the old bait and switch that had underpinned their relationship in high school would apply now. If her responses to him so far were any indication, not much had changed. He relished the challenge of making her loosen up. She thrived on proving that anything he said annoyed the crap out of her.
She’d change her attitude if Fourde Fashion brought Sea-borns on board for this campaign. And if that happened he should change his attitude too.
He needed this business venture to thrive, and he needed to be on top of his game to do it. Invincible. And he knew Sapphire could help him do it.
There might not have been so much at stake in high school, bar a pass or fail grade, but he hadn’t forgotten her ability to command and conquer. If she brought half that chutzpah to her presentation tomorrow he had a feeling Fourde Fashion working with Seaborns for Fashion Week couldn’t fail.
And that, in turn, would launch his plans—the ones ensuring the entire fashion world, including his folks, would finally forgive the mistakes of his past and recognise there was more to him than his family name.
‘Fill me in on what you’ve been up to.’
An eyebrow inverted as she stared at him over the rim of her cappuccino glass. ‘In the last decade?’
‘Give me the abbreviated version.’
‘The usual. Taking over the business. Working my butt off to make it thrive.’ Shadows darkened her blue eyes to midnight before she glanced away.
Damn. How dumb could he be? He’d forgotten all about passing on his condolences. ‘Sorry about your mum.’
‘I am too.’ She cradled her coffee glass, determinedly staring into its contents.
‘You must miss her?’
‘Every day.’
With a suddenness that surprised him she placed her glass on the table and jabbed a finger in his direction. ‘Her drive and vivacity and tenaciousness were legendary. And that’s exactly what you’ll get a taste of in my presentation tomorrow.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’
He was surprised by her mood swings: pensive one moment, wary the next. The old Sapphire would never let anyone get under her guard—least of all him.
Which begged the question: what had happened to make her so…edgy?
‘No significant others?’
A faint pink stained her cheeks again, highlighting the incredible blueness of her eyes—the same shade as the precious stone she was named after.
‘Haven’t had time.’ She picked up her glass again, using it as a security measure. ‘Work keeps me busy.’
‘Will you fling that macaron at me if I quote you the old “all work and no play” angle?’
‘No, because I’ve heard it all before.’ Her fingers clutched the glass so tightly her knuckles stood out. ‘Besides, I play.’
Defensive and nervous. Yep, definitely not the woman he remembered.
‘How?’
She frowned. ‘How what?’
‘How do you play? What do you do for kicks?’
The fact that she screwed up her nose to think and took for ever to answer spoke volumes.
‘You’re a workaholic.’
She puffed up with indignation. ‘I do other stuff.’
‘Like?’
‘Yoga. Pilates. Meditation.’
He laughed, unable to mesh a vision of the long-striding, book-wielding girl going places with an image of Sapphire sitting still long enough to contemplate anything beyond Sea-borns’ profit margins.
‘What’s so funny?’
He shrugged and stirred his espresso. ‘You’re different than how I remember.’
Tension pinched the corners of her mouth. ‘I was a kid back then.’
‘No, you were a young woman on the verge of greatness. And I’m having a hard time reconciling my memory of you then with who you are now.’
He willed her to look at him, and when she did the fear in her gaze made him want to bundle her into his arms.
Closely followed by a mental what the hell? He’d learned the last time that Sapphire didn’t value his comfort and he’d be an idiot to be taken in by her vulnerability again. For all he knew she could be using it as a ploy to soften him up before the presentation tomorrow.
‘I’m still the same person in here,’ she murmured, pressing her hand to her chest. But the slight wobble of her bottom lip told him otherwise.
She wasn’t the same, not by a long shot, and it irked that deep down, in a metrosexual place he rarely acknowledged, he actually cared. Crazy when he didn’t really know her, had never known her beyond being someone to tease unmercifully for the simple fact she’d made it easy.
He could have probed and prodded and grilled her some more, but she seemed so defenceless, so broken, he didn’t have the heart to do it.
So he reverted to type.
‘Maybe it’s the casual exercise gear that threw me?’ He winked. ‘I much prefer you in a school uniform.’
‘You’re a sick man,’ she said, the glint of amusement in her eyes vindication that he’d done the right thing in not pushing her.
‘Well, then, maybe you should don a nurse’s uniform instead and—’
‘Unbelievable.’ She pursed lips in disapproval and his chest tightened inexplicably. ‘You haven’t changed a bit.’
‘You have.’ On impulse he touched the back of her hand and she eased it away, grabbing a teaspoon to scoop milk froth off the top of her cappuccino.
‘Ten years is a long time—what did you expect? To find me dissecting frogs and acing element quizzes?’
He couldn’t figure why she vacillated all over the place but there was something wrong here, some part of the bigger picture he wasn’t seeing, and if he were relying on her to help push Fourde Fashion into the stratosphere he needed to know what he was dealing with.
It was good business sense. It was an excuse for his concern and he was sticking to it.
‘Did you stop to consider my kiss may have ruined you for other men?’
Her eyes widened in shock at his deliberately outrageous taunt a second before she picked up several sugar sachets and flung them. He caught the lot in one hand.
He’d wanted a reaction and he’d got it. It was a start.
‘Newsflash: that kiss meant nothing. You caught me at a bad time and it ended up being two hormonal teens making out in a moment of madness.’ She crossed her arms and glared, outraged and defiant. ‘And I think it’s poor form, you bringing it up a decade later when we’re potentially on the verge of working together.’
‘Another thing that’s changed. You used to be brutally honest. Saying that kiss meant nothing?’ He tsk-tsked. ‘Never thought I’d see the day when you told a fib.’
He baited her again, wondering how far she’d go before he got a glimpse at the truth. He moved the sugar out of her reach just in case.
‘I’m not playing this game with you.’ She slammed her palms on the table and leaned forward, blue eyes flashing fire. ‘No reminiscing or teasing. No pretending to be buddies. And definitely no talk of kissing.’
She waved a hand between them.
‘You and me? Potential work colleagues. Our aim? To make our businesses a lot of money. So quit pretending to be my best buddy, because I don’t need a friend—I need a guarantee.’
Ouch. This brutal honesty he remembered.
‘Of what?’
‘That you’ll give me a fair hearing tomorrow and you’ll judge my presentation on merit and not on our past rel—friendship.’
‘You can say it, you know.’ He cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his exaggerated whisper. ‘Rel-a-tion-ship.’
When she swore, he almost fist-pumped the air. This was more like it. Sapphire riled and feisty. He could handle her this way, firing quips and barbs to get a rise. The withdrawn, almost melancholic woman she’d been a few minutes ago confused the hell out of him.
‘This is important to me,’ she said, her tone low and ominous. ‘You may have it easy, being given a subsidiary of your folks’ company to play with while you’re in Melbourne for however long you care to stick around. Me? Seaborns is everything, and I’ll do whatever it takes, including aligning our jewellery with your fashion, to ensure my company is never threatened again.’
Not much made Patrick quick to anger—bar anyone casting aspersions on how hard he worked.
He’d had a gutful of people doubting him. Doubting his capabilities, doubting his creativity, doubting his business brain.
It was why he’d leapt at the chance to head up this new branch. It was why his main goal was to show the world what he was made of. He intended to prove all the doubters wrong—including his parents.
Patrick Fourde had left the mistakes of his past behind and he had what it took to be a success beyond the family name and all it stood for.
‘Are you done?’
Something in his tone must have alerted her to his inner frustration, for she slumped back into her chair and held up her hands in surrender.
‘Sorry.’
‘No, you’re not. You believe all that crap.’
Just as his folks believed Jacques had single-handedly come up with the concept for the spring collection that had set the couture gowns sales in Paris soaring.
It had been the first time in ten years they’d given him another chance to work on a primary showing, collaborating on the spring collection alongside Jacques. Maybe they expected him to be eternally grateful, maybe they expected him to stuff up again, but never had they considered for one second he’d been the creative genius behind it.
He’d waited for their acknowledgment that he’d made amends for his monumental stuff-up when he’d first started with the company, waited for an encouraging word.
All he’d got was begrudging thanks for being part of a successful team.
Pride had kept him from confessing his true role and he’d realised something. Until he proved he’d put the past behind him on his own no one would believe him.
Least of all himself.
And it was at that moment he’d made his decision.
Making a success of the Australian branch of Fourde Fashion wasn’t debatable. It was imperative.
He needed to do this.
For him.
He’d accept nothing less than being the highest-grossing branch in the company—and that included topping their long-established French connection. Closely followed by putting his secret plan into action.
And he was looking at the one woman who could help make that happen.
‘You think I’m some lazy, indulged, rich playboy who gets by on his charm and little else.’
She couldn’t look him in the eye—vindication that he was spot-on in her assessment of him.
‘You never did give me any credit.’
Her mouth opened and closed, as if she’d wanted to respond and thought better of it. But her eyes didn’t lie, and their shameful regret made him want to thump something at the injustice of being judged so harshly.
‘Irrelevant, because my work will speak for itself.’
He expected to see scepticism.
He saw admiration and it went some way to soothing his inner wildness.
‘Okay, then, I guess we both have something to prove.’ She nodded, tapped her bottom lip, pondered. ‘From here on in a clean slate.’
‘No preconceptions?’
‘None whatsoever.’
For the first time since he’d sought her out today a coy smile curved her mouth, making him wish she’d do it more often.
‘Though you do rely heavily on charm.’
‘Pity it never worked on you,’ he muttered under his breath, surprised by her sharp intake of breath, as if she’d heard him.
She downed the rest of her cappuccino in record time and scooped the pistachio macaron into her palm. ‘Gotta dash. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.’ She cocked her finger and thumb at him. ‘Prepare to be wowed.’
As he watched her stroll away, the Lycra clinging to lean legs and shapely butt, he wondered what she’d think if she knew she’d already achieved her first goal.
CHAPTER TWO
‘YOU’D THINK AFTER three months at a freaking health spa I’d be more relaxed than this.’
Sapphie glared at Karma, the goldfish she’d purchased after checking out of Tenang as part of her new calm approach to life.
Right now rainforest sounds spilling from her iPod dock, lavender fumes from her oil burner and talking to Karma weren’t working.
She’d never felt so tense in all her life and she had Patrick Fourde to blame.
The guy was infuriating.
The guy was annoying.
The guy was seriously hot.
And that was what had her flustered deep down on a visceral level she didn’t want to acknowledge.