Harlequin Presents offers you another chance to enjoy this reader-favorite story from USA TODAY bestselling author Emma Darcy.

Christabel Valdez yearns to say yes to her boss’s dinner invitations and the sensual promise behind them. An intimate involvement with him is dangerous, but can she risk just one night to remember?

Jared King will use everything he has to hold her, keep her. And like his legendary family, who have flourished in this part of the Australian outback, he will not be defeated by anything. For him one night is not enough...

Originally published in 2000.

The Pleasure King’s Bride

Emma Darcy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CONTENTS

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

A MAN in a suit!

No-one wore a suit in Broome, especially not on a Sunday afternoon.

A surge of fear shot Christabel upright from the waist-deep water she’d been swimming in. She needed a better view of the man who was crossing the park above the beach, wearing a suit!

Was it one of them?

Had they tracked her down?

Before she could get a good look at him, his path took him behind the amenities block. She waited, her heart thumping wildly from the shock of being faced with the possibility that she had been found, despite all her precautions.

Six months she’d been here...perhaps, too long...long enough for her to start feeling safe...which was always a mistake. Stupid to ever feel safe from them, with so much at stake. Though there had seemed a very real chance of it, being so far away from everything that mattered to them, camped in this outpost of civilisation on the coastal edge of the great Australian outback.

Broome—a raggle-taggle, multicultural township that had grown up around the pearling industry when people still dived for pearl shell and died of the bends—was at the other end of the earth from the money men in Europe. Its history and tropical location, high on the west coast of the Kimberly region, attracted tourists, but no-one wore a suit here, not locals nor visitors. The heat alone demanded a minimum of clothing.

There he was again—just a glimpse of him crossing the open space between the amenities block and the cafe. His head was turned back towards the car park, making it impossible to identify him, but the suit said a lot to Christabel.

This was someone unprepared for the tropical climate.

Someone in too big a hurry to change his attire.

Someone who was heading purposefully for the caravan park that adjoined the beach area.

And Alicia had gone back to the caravan to fetch cans of cold drinks!

Sheer panic drove Christabel’s legs to wade through the water in frantic haste. She ran through the shallows and along the damp sand, which gave her firmer footing until she could reach the rocky outcrop that led up to the camping reserve. If it was one of them, come to get Alicia, come to snatch her back to that other life...

No-o-o-o!

Christabel’s mind burnt with fierce resolution as she leapt from rock to rock, every muscle tensing as she raced to fight for her daughter, determined on keeping her free from the nightmare world the money men would insist on constructing and maintaining. She would not let them take Alicia back to Europe. Never! Her daughter was safe here. If they’d just leave them alone...let them lead a normal life...

Onto the grassy bank of the reserve, her heart pumping, feet pounding, her long wet hair whipping around her. People she’d come to know from neighbouring caravans called out, startled by her hurtling haste, but she couldn’t pause, couldn’t reply. First and foremost she had to reach Alicia before the man in the suit found her. Did he know where to look, which caravan they lived in? She couldn’t see him but he had to be here somewhere.

Close now...she put on a last spurt, jumping over tent ropes and pegs, finally rounding the back of her van and...stopping dead.

He was there—the man in the suit—talking to her daughter, but he wasn’t one of them.

It was Jared—her employer here in Broome, Jared King—nothing whatsoever to do with them!

And if she acknowledged the deep down truth, he was the main reason she’d stayed in this place, longer than she should have.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, frowning over her obvious state of agitation.

She leant against the side of the van, shaky with relief, one hand pressed to her wildly thumping heart, the other raking back the wet tangle of hair from her face. The dark, waist-length tresses undoubtedly looked like straggling ropes, the usual flow of waves in horrible kinks. It was embarrassing, having him see her like this, ungroomed, hopelessly discomposed and too nakedly vulnerable to successfully hide what had to stay hidden.

“Why were you running, Mummy?”

Having caught her breath, Christabel aimed what she hoped was a reassuring smile at her five-year-old daughter. “I thought you’d got lost.”

Alicia huffed her indignation. “As if I would.”

There she was, a delightful imp of a child, her lovely little face framed by a halo of brown curls, no fear at all in the big amber eyes, no shadow of repression hanging over her. Christabel was amazed at the happy self-assurance her daughter had developed here, in this Broome caravan park, and she was deeply grateful it was still in place.

“You were gone a long time and I was dying for a drink,” Christabel offered in appeasement, conscious that Jared King was studying her quizzically and wishing he hadn’t witnessed her fear. He was disturbingly perceptive at times and she simply couldn’t afford to give too much away. Once people knew who she was, who her daughter was, everything changed.

“I’ve got them, see?” Alicia held up a string bag containing two cans of drinks. “I was on my way back...”

“I guess I should apologise for delaying her,” Jared chimed in, holding up the can in his hand. “Alicia very kindly got me a cold drink, too.”

“Why are you wearing a suit?” The accusatory words shot out of Christabel’s mouth before she could stop them.

Another quizzical, more weighing look from Jared. In fact, his coat was off now, slung over one shoulder, and he’d loosened his tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves. The strong raw maleness that seemed to emanate from all three King brothers was coming at her in waves, making her acutely aware of being a woman.

“I mean it’s so hot,” she gabbled. “Ridiculous to be walking around dressed like that. No wonder you wanted a drink.”

A slow, ironic smile. “I must admit I’d rather be in a swimsuit.” His eyes gliding over her appreciatively.

It wasn’t a leer. Jared King wasn’t the leering type. But she could feel his pleasure in seeing her like this, every curve hugged and outlined by the sleek yellow maillot, still wet from her swim, and his pleasure always did funny things to her, evoking a foolish happiness that muddled her mind and stirring physical reactions that left her miserably unsettled.

Her breasts were tingling right now, a shivery excitement running up and down her spine, her stomach turning mushy. If only he wasn’t so handsome, so insidiously attractive to her in so many ways...

“Actually, I was driving home from the airport,” he went on.

Of course! He was due home from his business trip to Hong Kong. She just hadn’t connected the suit to Jared, but he would wear one to deal with the Chinese, commanding their respect on all levels. The pearl King, they called him, because he headed the pearling industry his family owned, but secretly Christabel had dubbed him the pleasure King. It was something in his eyes, a warm, caressing sensuality...

“Then I remembered my mother was away...”

His mother—Elizabeth King, of the sharp intelligence and shrewd judgment, a woman who’d lived too much and seen too much for Christabel to ever feel comfortable in her company.

“...no-one to talk to, wind down with...”

Making himself sound lonely, but there was never any need for Jared King to be lonely, not a man like him. Or was he subtly tapping at her loneliness?

“...and I wondered if you might like to share my dinner and hear about your designs, the ones I took with me to Hong Kong.”

His smile held a whimsical appeal, and there was a mocking challenge in his eyes over the bait he attached to the personal invitation. He didn’t believe it would make any difference, but since she’d consistently refused to be with him in anything but a business situation, he was trying that angle...just to see her response to it.

“Did they like my jewellery?” she asked, feeling a surge of pride in the designs Jared had given her a free hand to create, and unable to deny her curiosity was piqued.

“Dinner?”

So tempting...strange how a man who always moved with such graceful elegance could exude so much male animal sexuality. He was tall and beautifully proportioned. His almost black hair tended to droop in a soft endearing wave over his forehead, but there was nothing really soft about his strongly boned face, except his rather full lower lip, lending his mouth the same sensual look she often caught in his dark brown eyes...eyes that were simmering at her now with promises of pleasure.

Christabel scooped in a deep breath, wishing she could indulge the desires he stirred in her. “No doubt you’ll tell me everything at work tomorrow,” she answered flatly.

“I was hoping for a pleasant evening together.”

The tug to accept what he offered was stronger than ever. But he would want too much, she told herself for the umpteenth time. Jared King was not the kind of man who would ever settle for less than everything he aimed for. Behind his quiet, affable demeanor was a will of steel she’d sensed many times.

“Vikki Chan invariably cooks a splendid homecoming dinner for me,” he remarked persuasively, dropping in the fact that his Chinese housekeeper would be in the house—the sense of a chaperone. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. In fact, her steamed fish is superb, well worth tasting.”

Food wasn’t the point, and he knew it.

“I like Chinese cooking,” Alicia piped up.

Jared instantly dropped her a charming smile. “What’s your favourite dish?”

“Honey prawns,” came the decisive reply.

“Very tasty,” he agreed with relish. “I’m sure Vikki would do some for you if your mother would like to bring you with her to my place for dinner this evening.”

That was a hit below the belt, involving her daughter directly in the invitation. He’d never done it before and Christabel churned with resentment at the unfair ploy as both of them turned their gaze expectantly to her, Alicia’s expression artlessly pleased at the promise of a treat.

“Can we go, Mummy?”

“I don’t think so,” she answered tersely.

The curt refusal bewildered her daughter, prompting the question, “Why not?”

“Yes...why not?” Jared echoed, maintaining a pleasantly invitational tone.

Christabel glared at him, hating the dilemma he put her in. “Alicia eats early. She’s in bed at eight o’clock.”

“No problem.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost five now. If you come at six...”

“Stop it, Jared!” she burst out.

Slowly he raised his gaze to hers again and there was nothing the least bit affable in his eyes. They burned with the need to rip away every barrier she put up between them. They seared her soul with a truth she could not deny, the sure knowledge of the attraction she felt...the same attraction he felt.

“Some things can’t be stopped, Christabel,” he said quietly.

And she had no answer to that starkly honest statement.

Tension gripped her entire body as she fought the deeply personal needs he evoked. She wanted this man. She wanted to experience all of him so badly, it was like being torn in two, the rational part of her mind insisting an intimate involvement with him would spill over to an attachment with Alicia and the money men would never allow it, not in the long run, so it could only end in wretched torment.

Jared made one of his graceful gestures, the long artistic fingers opening in a curve of giving as he softly added, “Of course, the choice is yours.”

What would it be like to have those fingers caressing her, making her feel loved and cherished and precious to him? Her stomach clenched in a savage desire to know how it would be...the pleasure King making love to her...to have this, just for herself, for at least a little time. Her heart drummed a vehement plea to make her own choice—a choice that shut out every other factor that had ruled her life for so many years.

“I’d like to go, Mummy.”

And why shouldn’t she? Christabel thought fiercely, looking at her daughter with an aching well of love. Why shouldn’t Alicia enjoy the company of a man who didn’t see her as a pawn in a monstrous web of greed? To add something more normal to their life here in Broome...why not?

“Then we shall go,” she answered decisively, defying all the gremlins that rode on her shoulders.

Alicia clapped her hands in delight and lifted a gleeful face to Jared. “Honey prawns,” she archly reminded him.

He laughed at her, his whole body visibly relaxing as he assured her, “I never go back on promises. Honey prawns there shall be.”

“And chocolate chip ice-cream?”

“Alicia!” Christabel chided.

“I was just asking, Mummy,” came the hasty justification.

“You know it’s not good manners.”

A doleful sigh. “Sorry.”

Christabel sighed, too, afraid she was committing an act of utter madness on an impulse she would inevitably regret, yet when she lifted her gaze to Jared’s and saw the happy warmth in his eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to care about the consequences of her decision.

“Six-thirty would suit us better,” she said, wanting time to dry her hair, time to feel all a woman’s anticipation in the indulgence of getting ready for an evening with a man who truly wanted only her, not her connection to obscene wealth.

“Fine by me.” He smiled the words, a smile that curled Christabel’s toes.

“Thank you.” Her voice came out husky, furred by emotions rushing free from the strictures of years of discipline.

“My pleasure,” he replied, then transferred his smile to Alicia. “Chocolate chip?”

Her hands flew up into a fervent wish grasp. “Please?”

“I’ll get some on my way home.”

“Oh, thank you!”

He lifted his hand in a farewell salute to both of them, then strolled away with the air of a man who had come and conquered and the world was now his oyster.

Except it wasn’t, Christabel thought ruefully. Only this little bit of the world belonged to Jared King. She remembered her visit to the great outback cattle station owned by his family, a vast land holding on the other side of the Kimberly from Broome. King’s Eden, it was called. She’d been amongst the contingent of the family’s employees in the pearl industry, invited to Nathan King’s wedding, which had been an eerily soul-stirring ceremony, initiated by Aborigines playing didgeridoos.

She was glad she’d gone, glad she’d experienced such a unique insight into the traditions of the outback and the feeling of an ancient, timeless heritage that was tied to the land. Not the wealth made from it. The land itself. King’s Eden.

Would she prove to be a serpent in Jared’s Eden? The carrier of evil that would poison his piece of paradise?

Sooner or later they would come—the powerful men in suits—and they’d destroy the normality of the life she’d established here, destroy whatever natural connections she’d made with people.

Christabel shivered.

Some things can’t be stopped.

Jared’s words...but they applied to much more than their feelings for each other. Still, for a little while...a defiant recklessness surged over the torturous fears...she would have what she wanted. And so would Jared.

It was his choice, too.

CHAPTER TWO

FEAR...because he’d been wearing a suit.

Jared mulled over that information as he drove back to the main shopping area to buy the chocolate chip ice-cream. It was another piece of the jigsaw he’d been fitting together ever since he’d met Christabel Valdez. The more he thought about it, the more it felt like a key piece.

His unexpected apparel had represented some kind of threat to her peace of mind. Was the suit simply an image that evoked bad memories, or was there more to it than that, a fear of someone who always wore suits turning up in her life again?

Jared didn’t care for this last thought. Yet perhaps it tied in with her living in a caravan, a mobile trailer home she could take with her if she felt the need to move at a moment’s notice. On the other hand, many people enjoyed the sense of a nomadic life that a caravan allowed. Not everyone wanted to put down roots in one place. Impossible to really know Christabel’s truth until she chose to reveal it herself.

It wasn’t the done thing to pry into the background of people who came to work in the Australian out-back. There could be many reasons for dropping out of more sophisticated centres of civilisation. It might be as simple as a wish for a change of lifestyle, a need for space, a desire to experience something different...in which case they usually told you so. But there were those who stayed silent, wanting to shed what they’d left behind...and that was their personal and private business, to be respected as such.

Christabel projected the first attitude but gave out so little of her past, Jared had concluded she wanted to shut the door on it. What had been tantalising, and intensely frustrating to him, was her stance of keeping everyone, including him, at arm’s length, as though she couldn’t bring herself to trust a close relationship, however much she might want it.

And she did want it with him.

Jared’s fingers curled more tightly around the driving wheel as triumphant excitement coursed through him. At last he’d broken through her resistance. She’d given in. Though why now...he shook his head. It didn’t matter.

Perhaps it was the realisation that her fear—whatever its cause—was unfounded with him. If so, all the better. He didn’t want fear to play any part in their relationship. He’d sort that out soon enough, now he had the chance to get close to her, closer than he ever had before in five long months of laying subtle siege to her defences.

Christabel...

He smiled on a wave of sheer exhilaration as he rolled the lovely lilt of her name through his mind...a name he’d thought might haunt him all his days, accompanied by a vision of eyes that glittered like gold in moments of fierce emotion and darkened to a simmering, sensual amber in moments of pleasure.

A woman with the heart of a tiger, he’d often thought, imagining her stretched out on his bed, lazily slumbrous, yet with those eyes inviting dangerous play, her satin-smooth olive skin gleaming, the rich abundance of her glorious long hair spreading silkily across pillows, the soft, perfect femininity of her body calling to everything male in him, a beautiful exotic mystery.

A haunting name, a haunting image...and all this time it had seemed the reality of her might remain forever elusive.

No more.

Tonight she would be within his reach.

Tonight...

It took considerable effort to bank down the passion she stirred in him and concentrate on practical details. Even his fingers were tingling as he activated the car phone and pressed his home number.

“Vikki here,” came the familiar sing-song voice.

“Visitors for dinner, Vikki. Christabel Valdez and her daughter.” It gave him intense pleasure to say that.

“Ah! So you win. I said to your mother, Jared will win. He does not know how to lose, that boy. He keeps at it until he wins.”

He laughed. Vikki Chan had been with the family all his life, cook and housekeeper to his widowed grandfather, staying on to maintain the old Picard home for his mother after Angus Picard’s death. It wasn’t the least bit surprising she knew of his interest in Christabel. Jared suspected she knew everything that went on in Broome from her many long-established grapevines. Besides, his mother was in the habit of confiding worries to her.

“I’m about to pick up the ice-cream her daughter likes,” he informed. “I also promised Alicia honey prawns...”

“No problem. I shall call and have the best green prawns delivered. Also more fish. Is fish all right for your Christabel?”

His Christabel...he hoped. “I’m sure it will be perfect. They’ll be arriving early. Six-thirty. Alicia goes to bed at eight.”

“I will take care of the little one. A bedroom near mine.”

“They may not stay beyond eight, Vikki.” He couldn’t assume too much, given the hot flare of resentment from Christabel when he had used Alicia to press the invitation. In fact, the giving in may not extend anywhere near as far as he wanted.

“I shall work it so you have time alone with her, Jared,” came the arch reply. “I have not lost my touch with children. And I very much doubt you have lost your touch for winning.”

Her confidence set him smiling again. “You’re a wicked old woman, Vikki Chan.”

He heard her cackling with delighted amusement as she disconnected to make other calls and imagined her wizened little face creased into a myriad happy wrinkles and her black eyes asparkle with plots and plans.

Vikki Chan would never say how old she was. Probably in her eighties, Jared guessed, though still incredibly spry and full of a zest for life. She’d be on the telephone right now to her seafood supplier, demanding the very best and threatening terrible fates if it wasn’t delivered. The pencil she invariably poked through the bun that kept her scraggly grey hair under tight control would be down in her hand, making notes no one else could read.

Chinese, she said, but Jared had learnt to speak and read Chinese proficiently and he could never decipher what she wrote. It gave Vikki an enormously smug pleasure to keep her little secrets, while worming out everyone else’s. Though not even she had managed to learn anything about Christabel beyond what Jared had learnt himself.

Which wasn’t much.

She knew Amsterdam. A conversation on diamonds had dropped that fact. Singapore was another piece of the jigsaw, perhaps simply a stopover on her way to Australia. Wherever she had learnt it, she had an extensive knowledge of jewellery and a keen appreciation of how it was valued.

He parked the car in Carnarvon Street, crossed the road to Cocos Ice Cream Parlour, bought two individual tubs of chocolate chip for good measure since Christabel might like it, too, plus several cones in case licking was preferred to spooning.

From there it was a short drive up to the bluff where the old Picard home overlooked Roebuck Bay. Prime position, Jared always thought appreciatively, though the house itself was not a particularly impressive place, just a big, rather ramshackle wooden building, surrounded on three sides by wide verandas that could be shuttered against inclement weather.

Still, it held a lot of history for his mother and it was large enough to accommodate the whole family with space to spare whenever his brothers came to Broome. Tonight it was going to accommodate Christabel Valdez and her daughter, for as long as they were willing to stay. As long as he could make it, Jared privately vowed as he headed inside to the kitchen with the ice-cream supplies.

Vikki was chopping vegetables at her workbench. “Everything okay?” he asked, crossing to the freezer.

“Of course.” She eyed him critically. “You look very hot, shirt sticking to your back. You need a shower and a shave.”

Having put the ice-cream away, he placed the cones on the bench and shot Vikki a teasing grin. “I think I can remember to brush my teeth.”

Unabashed, she returned an arch look. “That cologne you have...it is very nice. Definitely a subtle come-on.”

“I’m glad you approve my choice. Been sniffing it, have you?”

She humphed. “You need all the help you can get to make the most of this night.”

“Not artificial help. It won’t impress Christabel one bit. Nothing has...not who I am or what I am or any material advantages she could get from me.”

“Maybe...maybe not. I’m thinking a clever woman doles out a long rope for a man to hang himself with. You are a prize, Jared, and it occurs to me no other woman has ever tied you up this firmly.”

He shook his head. “She doesn’t see me as a prize. That’s not where it’s at.”

She raised derisive eyes. “The executive head of Picard Pearls? A man with his own custom-fitted Learjet? One of the Kings of the Kimberly?”

“It’s all irrelevant to her. I’d know if it wasn’t. I’m not a fool, Vikki.”

“Men in love can be blind.”

“Not that blind.”

There was a loud rap on the back door. “Ah, the prawns and the fish!” Vikki made a shooing gesture as she moved to answer the summons. “Go off with you, Jared. And if you want my opinion, if your Christabel doesn’t know you are a prize, she is a fool.”

Not a fool, Jared thought, leaving the kitchen to go to the suite of rooms he’d made his. Christabel operated on values that had nothing to do with wealth. That had been clear to him from the beginning, and her independent stance had remained consistent ever since. This was a woman who thought for herself, acted for herself and was wary of allowing any outside influence into her life.

He dumped his briefcase in his home office, stripped off in his bedroom and moved automatically towards showering and shaving, his mind occupied with memories....

* * *

The necklace...looking up from the paperwork on his desk and seeing it around his secretary’s throat...

“Where did you get that piece of jewellery?”

“Oh, sorry!” A fluster of guilty embarrassment. “I know I should be wearing pearls...”

“It’s all right. I just want to know. The design is very striking.” Artistic, elegant, cleverly leading the eye to the enamelled pieces it featured.

“Yes. I love it and couldn’t resist buying it.”

“Where from?”

“At the Town Beach markets on Friday night.”

“The markets?” It was not market goods. It was class. High class!

“Yes. Usually there’s only cheap, fairly tacky stuff, but there was this rather small collection of really super costume jewellery on the stall that sells velvet jewellery bags. I would have bought more but this was seventy dollars.”

“Locally made?”

“Well, the person who made it is a newcomer, though she’s been here a while now. Lives in the caravan park. Very exotic-looking. Comes from Brazil, someone said.”

Exotic...he’d imagined some over made up woman in a multicoloured floating garment...yet that design had tugged him into reconnoitring the market stalls at Town Beach the following Friday evening.

His first sight of her...like a magnet pulling him, his heart hammering, pulse racing. She’d been chatting to her co-stall holder. Had she felt him coming? Her head turned sharply. Their eyes met. An instant sexual awareness. Electric. How long had it lasted? Several seconds? Then she stiffened as though suddenly alert to danger, and her lashes swept down, shutting him out.

The abrupt switch off paused Jared in his tracks. It was wrong, unnatural. He sensed a shielding that was determined on blocking him out, and the urge to fight it welled up in him. She didn’t know him, he realised, and he didn’t know her. He tempered his more aggressive instincts, listening to the one warning him that storming defences was not a winning move.

He slowed his approach and made a casual study of the jewellery on the trestle table she stood behind. Each piece, to his eye, was a unique design, displaying a creative artistry he found almost as exciting as the woman. Part of her, he thought, an intrinsic part of heart, soul and mind woven into patterns and fashioned with exquisite taste. He couldn’t resist touching them.

“You made these?”

Her lashes lifted. “Yes.” She stood very still, her eyes alert, reminding him of a cat’s, watching what his next move would be.

He smiled. “Your own designs?”

“Yes.” No smile in response. A waiting tension emanating from her. “Are you interested in buying?”

She wanted him gone, which seemed so perverse it intrigued Jared even more. “You must have had training,” he remarked.

She shrugged. “I am now self-employed. Do you wish to buy?”

“You come from Brazil, I’m told. Perhaps you worked with H. Stern in Rio de Janeiro?”

More tension. A flat-eyed stare. “Why are you inquiring about me? Who are you?”

“Jared King. I head the Picard Pearl Company here in Broome. I’ve been looking for someone. Someone special. You...I think.”

A flare of alarm...recoil in her eyes.

The personal element was backfiring on him. He instantly slid into business. “I want a unique range of jewellery designed, featuring our pearls. I think you might be the right person to do it.”

No hesitation, not the slightest pause or flicker of interest. “I am not the person you want, Mr. King.”

“I think I should be the judge of what I want,” he dryly returned.

“And I the judge of what I want,” came the sharp retort.

“It could be worth your while...”

“No,” she cut in firmly. “I am self-employed. I like it that way. Now, if you’re not interested in purchasing...”

“I’ll take the lot.”

That startled her. But after the initial shocked flash of disbelief came a hard-eyed challenge. “It will not buy you anything but this jewellery, Mr. King.”

“I didn’t imagine it would, Miss...?”

Her mouth visibly thinned, wanting to hold it back from him, but her own intelligence told her it was too easily learnt from others here. “Valdez,” she answered tersely.

He fished out his wallet. “How much?”

She noted down the prices as she wrapped each piece in individual sheets of tissue paper, then added up the total and showed him so he could check it himself.

As he paid her, he also handed her a business card. “I am seriously interested in your talent as a designer,” he pressed quietly. “Please...think it over. Check my credentials. My contact numbers are on that card.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly and gave him nothing more than the plastic bag in which she’d placed the tissue packets.

Having been comprehensively dismissed, he knew nothing would be gained by staying, but he left determined to seek her out again if she didn’t come to him.

Two weeks he gave her, more than enough time to check him out and consider the possibilities and advantages in the situation. Not the slightest nibble of interest from her. Nothing.

He did the pursuing and every meeting he managed was fraught with tension, her determination not to form any connection with him conflicting with the pull of an attraction she struggled to deny. It took a month of persistent angling and negotiation to get her to agree to submit designs that he could buy from her as he wished. Even then she kept her involvement with him strictly professional, continually blocking any encroachment on her private life.

* * *

Dancing with her at Nathan’s wedding...the intense pleasure of finally holding her in his arms, though not nearly as intimately as he wanted, her hands pressing a resistance to full body contact.

“Are you enjoying your visit to King’s Eden?”

She smiled, relaxing but still maintaining a wary distance. “Very much. It is what one might call a revelation. A world unto itself.”

For once, her beautiful face was lit with fascinating animation as she listed her impressions of what she’d seen and felt throughout this outback experience. The flow of glowingly positive comments fuelled Jared’s hope that she could be drawn into his life, could be happy belonging to it.

“And now you’ve met all my family,” he prompted, wanting some hint of how she felt about them.

An enigmatic smile. “Yes. Your mother must be very proud of her three sons. And pleased with Nathan’s marriage.”

It was more an objective observation than a personal comment, frustrating Jared’s purpose again. “What of your own family, Christabel?”

A slight twist to her smile. “I do not belong to anyone but my daughter.” A gleam of warning in her eyes. “It suits me that way.”

“You could have brought her with you this weekend.” In fact, it was strange she had not, given how watchful and protective she was of the child.

A slight shake of her head. “The family she is staying with is safe. I know them from the markets. Good people. Long-time local residents of Broome.”

“So you wanted to come alone.”

A mocking gleam. “I simply wanted my curiosity satisfied, Jared. Don’t make any more of it than that.”

“And is your curiosity...completely satisfied?” he challenged, acutely aware of his own burning need for all she withheld from him.

She shrugged. “How can I fully know a legend I haven’t lived? The Kings of the Kimberly...a hundred years of building what you have here and in Broome. I cannot expect to grasp more than a glimmering of what it comprehends.”

The evasive answer pushed him into asking, “Do you find the idea of long roots inhibiting?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Have you found it inhibiting?”

“No.”

“It is very much part of you, isn’t it?” More a statement than a question.

“Yes.”

“So you should stay happy with your life.”

The wry resignation in her voice stirred a deep well of frustration. Why was she keeping herself separate from him? Why couldn’t she let the attraction between them follow its natural course?

“Is anyone completely happy without a partner to share their life with?” he demanded tersely, nodding to the bride and groom dancing together, just a few metres away from them. “Look at Miranda. Look at Nathan. That is happiness, Christabel! Can you not imagine that...want that...for yourself?”

He caught a glimpse of raw yearning on her face as she looked at his brother and the woman he had just married. For several moments an air of sadness hovered around her. Then she turned her gaze back to him and her eyes were flat, hard. “I’ve been married, Jared. My husband is dead but I still live with him. I will always live with him.”

“He’s dead, Christabel. Dead is dead,” he countered harshly, unable to stop himself, feeling her vibrant vitality, the pulsing sexuality that aroused his so strongly.

“Believe me...” Her eyes bitterly derided his claim. “...you would not want to live in his shadow.”

He didn’t believe her.

She wasn’t a woman in grief.

He’d witnessed his mother’s grief after his father’s death. Christabel Valdez did not want her husband back. She wanted him, and be damned if he’d be driven away by a shadow.

* * *

Jared wiped the few remaining bits of shaving cream from his face and grimaced at the hard ruthlessness in the eyes reflected in the mirror. He’d been thinking, Nothing was going to come between him and Christabel Valdez tonight! But, of course, she would have her daughter with her, the daughter of the man she’d married.

He’d used the child.

Christabel may very well use her, too.

But he did have Vikki Chan on his side.

He smiled as he tossed the towel aside and picked up the bottle of cologne—Platinum Egoiste by Chanel. He might as well use every bit of ammunition he had in this war, because war it was. And he was sick to death of fighting shadows. He wanted hands-on combat. Action.

His body stirred in anticipation.

Vikki was right.

He would keep at it until he won.

CHAPTER THREE

CHRISTABEL parked her four-wheel drive Cherokee at the end of the street that ran parallel to the old Picard property. There was no road in front of it, nothing to disturb the view it commanded over Roebuck Bay. The house itself was considered a historic landmark, built by Captain Trevor Picard in 1919, the owner of forty pearling luggers—so she’d read in the museum records.

This was where Jared lived.

He was in there waiting for her.

Christabel’s fingers stayed tightly curled around the steering wheel as she tried to steady her nerves. Ever since she’d accepted his invitation she’d been defying all the things she’d forbidden herself, wanting what he wanted, wanting to show him she did. She was twenty-seven years old and she’d never had a lover, only a husband who’d only ever cared about his own pleasure, never hers. She was sure Jared would be different.

“Is this it, Mummy?”

“Yes.” This was definitely it, Christabel decided as she answered her daughter.

“Then why aren’t we getting out?”

“Getting out now,” she answered.

Alighting from the driver’s seat and rounding the Cherokee to the passenger side, Christabel found her gaze drawn to the house where Jared chose to live. It was a big, solid old place. Other people with the accumulated wealth of the King Picard family might have torn it down and built something grander, more modern and impressive, and it would have meant nothing but a symbol of wealth.

Like the majestic old homestead she’d seen at King’s Eden, this house seemed to stand for endurance, for something lasting beyond any one person’s life and death.

It had been caringly maintained—the building, the garden. Caring...everywhere she looked...the precise paintwork on the house, the neatly trimmed bougainvillea, the lustrous clumps of ferns and tropical foliage...and the sharp realisation came that what was in front of her stood for things she could never share with Jared and what she was setting out to do was wrong.

Too wrong to go on with.

She shouldn’t have accepted this invitation, shouldn’t be here. Jared King was too good a man to be used and left, as though he was not worth more than a strictly lustful affair. Maybe that would be enough for him...but what if it wasn’t?

She stopped by the passenger door. Alicia was making an impatient face at her through the window. Should she get back in the Cherokee and drive away? How could she explain that to her daughter—such bad manners? Impossible. Yet to go ahead, dressed as she was...it was a tease, a deliberate sexual tease, meant to signal her willingness to end the torment of wanting. Jared would notice.

And she’d burn with embarrassment at the rampant wantonness that had led her into presenting such a provocative invitation to satisfy every physical desire they’d stirred in each other.

Alicia knocked on the window. “Come on, Mummy.”

She’d have to minimise the effect. Somehow. And leave as soon as she decently could. It had been wrong to give in to this...this raging temptation. She must never do it again. It wasn’t fair to him. He was wasting his time with her, time better spent looking for a woman who could embrace all that his life meant to him.

Best to break the connection after tonight. Or limit it more than she already had, make Jared understand it was not to be. Maybe she could lead into that this evening.

Taking a deep breath to calm the inner flood of agitation, she opened the door and released Alicia from her seat belt, glad she had her daughter to come between her and Jared and determined now not to accept any offer of a bed for Alicia when eight o’clock came. No time alone with him. She couldn’t risk it.

“Big trees, aren’t they, Mummy?” Alicia commented, looking up at them as Christabel lifted her out of the vehicle.

“Older than any others in Broome, I’d imagine,” she replied, struggling for an air of normality as she, too, looked up at them.

The native gum trees had been planted in a row along this side of the house, just within the white picket fence that surrounded the property. The width of their huge white and grey trunks and the spread of the branches testified to the number of years they had stood, while undoubtedly other such trees had been cut down in the past to provide building materials for the township. They were also a testament to a family who looked after what they had, who valued deep roots, who were given to long-term commitment as naturally as they breathed.

“I like this place,” Alicia declared, happily taking Christabel’s hand for the walk around to the front gate.

Her little face beamed excited anticipation and excess energy poured into an occasional skip to her step, making Christabel smile over the uninhibited pleasure being so naturally expressed. Alicia looked very cute in a lime green shift she’d selected herself from a hanging rack at the markets, and simple little sandals with seashells sewn on the straps. To Christabel’s mind, it was much better for her daughter not to be a designer-clad little miss, filled with a pompous sense of her own importance.

She wished her own appearance was as artless, acutely aware that the cotton-knit weave of her dress clung to her curves before flaring into a flirty little skirt that ended mid-thigh. It was definitely a sexy garment, sleeveless, its low round neckline dipping to the swell of her breasts. She wore no bra and only a minimal G-string, not wanting to break the slinky feel of the soft fabric. Its dark red colour hid the nakedness underneath, but the obvious shape of her breasts and the smooth line of hip and thigh suggested it.

Despite the heat, she had left her hair down, readily touchable, rippling around her shoulders in a loose fall to her waist. Her bare feet were slipped into black strappy sandals, easily slipped out of, as well. On a black leather thong around her neck hung a copper sun disk, split in two and joined by a crescent moon from which dangled uneven strings of triangles—all in copper, which had swirls of dark red through its polished surface. It was her own design and she liked the elemental nature of it.

She had been feeling very elemental as she had chosen what to wear...and not wear. It was what she had wanted to feel, a woman meeting a man, intent on revelling in the most basic level there was between them. Totally pagan and primitive, she’d told herself on a wave of mad exultation, indulging the wicked sense of throwing all caution to the winds and having what she wanted, regardless of consequences.

It was only too easy to fool herself into believing she had a right to this. The right of a woman. Being a mother should not mean she had to suppress her own sexuality, and she had never wanted a man as much as she wanted Jared King.

“Looks like a storm coming, Mummy.”

Jolted from her intense inner reverie, Christabel looked out over Roebuck Bay. Black clouds were looming ominously above the horizon. No romantic moonrise tonight, she thought wryly. Not that she’d come for romance. In fact, a quick tropical storm was more in keeping with the kind of relationship she’d envisaged with Jared...a storm that would blow over and just be a part of the past when she moved on.

Could it be so?

Was she worrying needlessly?

Or would it leave wreckage in its wake?

“We’d better get inside before it starts,” she said, quickening her pace, aware of how swiftly storms swept in here.

“Can we watch it from the veranda?” Alicia asked eagerly, always fascinated by the lightning show that usually preceded the deluge of heavy rain. She’d seen quite a lot of it this summer, although it wasn’t called summer here. It was simply the wet season and the rest of the year was the dry. The lightning was always spectacular, and Alicia found it more exciting than frightening.

“I guess so,” she answered, reasoning Jared would want to please her daughter, given his ready offer of honey prawns and chocolate chip ice-cream.

They arrived at the front gate. Christabel reached over it to work the catch on the other side. To her frustration, it seemed to be stuck. She released Alicia’s hand to give herself leverage for a stronger tug, even while thinking this physical obstacle was a sign she was trespassing where she shouldn’t go. The gate didn’t want to let her in. It was protecting the people it was built to protect.

“I’ll open it for you!”

She looked up to see Jared emerging from the veranda, already descending the steps to the path leading to the gate.

“It’s probably stuck, not having been opened since the fence was last painted,” he explained, striding towards her. “We mostly use the side entrance.”

His white shirt was unbuttoned, flapping open as he walked, revealing black curls nestled on his darkly tanned chest and a fine line of hair arrowing down, disappearing below the belt line of white shorts. Snug, sexy shorts, leaving most of his muscular legs bare.

His flagrant maleness caught the breath in Christabel’s throat. She barely had wits enough to withdraw her hand and stand back from the gate for him to work the catch free for her. The urge to simply feast her eyes on him was so strong, it was difficult to think of anything else.

His thick dark hair looked soft and springy, newly washed. He had neat ears for a man, tucked close to his head. His jaw was shiny-smooth. She picked up a tantalising scent, something sharper than fresh sea air, intriguingly attractive, multi-layered in essence. Very Jared, offering sensory pleasure.

“There!” He beamed a triumphant grin at them as he swung the gate wide.

“Thank you,” Alicia piped up, minding her manners.

“You’re welcome,” he returned, waving them forward, his eyes gathering a gleam of more personal triumph as his gaze travelled from her daughter to Christabel herself.

“Lucky you arrived before the storm,” he remarked. “I was about to close the shutters on the veranda.”

“We like storms,” Alicia informed him.

“Well, in that case, we’ll leave the shutters open unless the rain starts coming in.”

Happy with this indulgence, Alicia skipped ahead along the path. Christabel waited for Jared to shut the gate behind them, inwardly churning over what he had to be thinking, given the overt provocation of her dress. She couldn’t bring herself to walk ahead, knowing she would feel him watching the free movement of her buttocks with every step she took. It wouldn’t be so bad, walking with him.

His shoulder muscles bunched as he realigned the catch and fastened it. Her own tautly strung nerves thrummed with the tension coming from him, causing her stomach to contract and sending little quivers down her thighs. Yet when he turned to her, it was with a warm, welcoming smile, aimed at relaxing any fears she might have over accepting his invitation.

“I like the pendant you’re wearing. Very eye-catching,” he remarked.

“It goes with the dress,” she answered before she could catch the words back.

To her intense relief his gaze didn’t wander downwards. His eyes twinkled appreciation straight into hers. “Once again you demonstrate your talent for the perfect touch.”

“I’m a long way from perfect, Jared,” she blurted out, guiltily conscious of raising expectations she didn’t know if she could meet or not. Would he want more from her than having his desire sated? Was it just a physical craving for him?

“You gave me the kind of showcase I wanted for our pearls, Christabel. Your designs are now on display in Hong Kong, exciting far more interest in the trade than a showing of our wholesale product.”

A rush of pleasure eased her sense of guilt. “Then I’ve given you something of value for all the time you’ve spent on me.”

He frowned quizzically. “I do want more.”

The quiet tone carried a wealth of suggestion, tapping straight into the pulsing core of why she’d come, why he’d invited her. He wanted more and so did she, and it had nothing to do with pearls and professional business. She stared at him, feeling the gathering ache of need he stirred, wishing it could be appeased, wondering if the risk would be worth taking.

“It must mean something to you, as well,” Jared went on, “knowing your creative vision has excited such interest?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say, I only did it for you, but that was far too revealing a truth. “I simply enjoy designing, Jared. What you do with my work...that’s your business. It doesn’t relate to me any more.”

“But you could make a real name for yourself,” he pointed out.

A kick of alarm hit her heart. “You didn’t use my name, did you?”

His frown deepened. “No. As per our agreement, the jewellery was simply labelled Designs by Picard. But I do feel very strongly that you should get recognition, Christabel.”

She shook her head, the anxious moment receding at his reassurance. “I truly don’t want that.”

“Why not?”

Because they’ll find me through you. But she couldn’t say that. Dragging him into her dilemma wouldn’t solve anything. “I’m happier this way.”

“You could make a very substantial career.”

“I don’t need a career. What I need is to be free, Jared. Can you understand that?” A kind of desperate panic welled up in her, forcing an explanation that warned him where she stood. “Not to be tied down. Not to be owned. Not to have my life ordered by others. So don’t count on more from me. Don’t ever count on more. I’ve tried to tell you....”

“Yes, you have,” he agreed. “I’m sorry if you think I haven’t respected those feelings.”

The passionate outpouring broke into a ragged sigh. “Then why am I here?” she muttered defeatedly.

“Because it’s where you want to be.”

As simple as that. Except nothing was really as simple as that. She looked at him in anguished uncertainty.

“Let it rest for now, Christabel. Come...” He gestured towards the veranda, smiling in light whimsy. “...it’s only one evening.”

One evening...he was right. It involved only a short time span. Nothing need happen that she didn’t want to happen. And Alicia was with her.

Her gaze automatically swung to the veranda as she fell into step beside Jared. Alicia was chatting to a little old woman who was bent over, exuding interest in what the child was saying.

“Vikki Chan,” Jared elucidated. “Probably checking when and where to serve the honey prawns.”

As with many of the Chinese population in Broome, she wore loose cotton trousers and an overblouse with slits on the side. Her grey hair was scraped into a bun and her much wrinkled face was creased into an indulgent smile. Clearly Alicia was at ease with her.

Christabel gratefully seized on an impersonal topic of conversation. “I find it amazing that the Chinese and Japanese people here have adopted Western society names.”

“They’ve been here a long time. Descendants of the divers in the old days.”

“Yes, but they still keep many of their customs. Like leaving money on the graves in their cemetery.”

“Ah, but that has to do with beliefs, not day-to-day mixing with people. The captains of the pearling luggers gave Western names to their divers, for their own convenience in identifying them. The practice was accepted and passed on.”

“A very arrogant practice, imposing one culture on another.”

“Not a culture. Just a name. The Chinese culture is alive and thriving in Broome.” He slid her a dry look. “I doubt you’d find Vikki critical on that point. She’s quite the queen bee in the Chinese community.”

Being the keeper of the Picard home probably carried a certain status, Christabel thought, and being of a venerable age undoubtedly carried weight. She wasn’t really expecting the bright and shrewd intelligence that came straight at her from the old woman’s eyes when she straightened up from talking to Alicia.

Christabel felt herself blushing. Nothing was escaping those eyes. They had her stripped and logged in detail, with probably a character analysis done, as well. It took staunch discipline to keep walking up the steps to the veranda, her spine automatically stiffening at feeling herself scrutinised so comprehensively.

It reminded Christabel of her first meeting with Bernhard Kruger after she’d married his son.

Was she suitable?

Would she fit into the right mould?

Would she deliver what was required of her?

She’d had no conception of what she was getting into then. But she did here, with Jared’s world, and no matter what she felt with him, the conviction came very strongly that it was wrong to even touch it as she had.

“Vikki Chan...Christabel Valdez,” Jared casually introduced. “And her daughter, Alicia, whose acquaintance you’ve obviously already made.”

The old woman bowed. “An honour to meet you.”

Christabel politely inclined her head. “The honour is mine. It is very kind of you to welcome me.”

Vikki Chan raised a smiling face. “Your daughter tells me she’d like to eat out here so she can watch the storm. I wondered if you would prefer inside.”

“No. This is fine,” Christabel quickly assured her, noting that a table on the veranda had already been set and feeling she didn’t want to go farther into this house. It was easier, staying outside. Easier to leave.

“As you wish. I hope you will enjoy the evening.”

Only one evening, Christabel recited firmly to herself, as she watched the old woman walk back into her domain, Jared’s domain.

Behind her, a clap of thunder boomed with deafening force. It sounded like the crack of doom, warning her she should not have come. But it was only one evening. If she kept her head, no more would come from it.

Having screwed up the necessary willpower, she turned to face Jared...and the storm.

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