sparkled under the light, it was no match for the lights in her eyes.
Not when all she could do was remember that kiss, and how he had damn near wrenched out her mind if not her soul with it.
It was wrong to feel excited, even though its impact had so closely mirrored that of the first. But he’d simply been making a point. He’d been acting. He’d said as much himself. It had meant nothing. Or else why could he so easily have turned and walked away?
Yet still she trembled at the memory of his lips on hers. Still she trembled when she thought of how he’d felt, pressing hard and insistent against her belly, stirring secret places until they blossomed and ached with want.
Want that would go unsatisfied. Cheated again. Just an act. ‘I don’t sleep with my PA.’
And part of her had longed to laugh and tell him that he’d had his chance, years ago, and blown it then. Another part had wanted to slump with relief. While the greater part of her had wanted to protest at the unfairness of it all.
Damn. She’d known this would be difficult. She’d known that seeing him again would rekindle all those feelings she had been unable to bury, unable to dim, even with the passage of time.
She dragged air into her lungs, breathed out slowly and resolutely angled her chin higher as she made one final check on her appearance. For surely the worst was over. And at least she knew where she stood. She may as well try to enjoy the rare evening out.
How hard could it be?
‘Remember,’ Leo said, as they made their way to the presidential suite, ‘keep it light and friendly and whatever you do, avoid any talk of family.’
Suits me, she thought, knowing Leo would be less than impressed if she started telling everyone about Sam. ‘What is it exactly that their sons are supposed to have done?’
‘You didn’t see the articles?’
She shook her head. ‘Clearly I don’t read the right kind of magazine.’
‘Or visit the right websites. Someone got a video of them at a party and posted it on the web.’
‘And they were doing something embarrassing?’
‘You could say that. It was a wife-swapping party.’
‘Oh.’
‘Oh, indeed. Half the board were implicated and Culshaw couldn’t stand seeing what he’d worked for all his life being dragged through the mud.’ He stopped outside the suite. ‘Are you ready?’
As ready as I’ll ever be. ‘Yes.’
He slipped her hand into his, surprising her but not so much this time because it was unexpected but because it felt so comfortable to have his large hand wrapped around hers. Amazing, given the circumstances, that it felt so right. ‘You look beautiful,’ he whispered, so close to her ear that she could feel his warm breath kiss her skin, setting light to her senses and setting flame licking at her core.
It’s make-believe, she warned herself as he tilted her chin and she once more gave herself up to his kiss, this time a kiss so tender and sweet that the very air seemed to shimmer and spin like gold around her. She drew herself back, trying to find logic in a sea of sensation and air that didn’t come charged with the spice of him.
It meant nothing, a warning echoed as he pressed the buzzer. It was all just part of the act. She could not afford to start thinking it felt right. She could not afford to think it was real.
She had just one short evening of pretending this man loved her and she loved him, and then the make-believe ended and she could go home to her falling-down house and her baby son. Alone. That was reality. That was her life.
She should be grateful it was so easy to pretend…
A butler opened the door, showing them into an impressive mirror-lined entry that opened into the massive presidential suite, Eve’s heels clicked on the high gloss parquet floor. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors either side reflected their images back at them, and Eve was struck when she realised that the woman in that glamorous couple, her hand in Leo’s and her eyes still sparkling, was her. Maybe she shouldn’t feel so nervous. Maybe they could pull this off. It had seemed such a crazy idea, and questions remained in her mind as to the ethics of the plan, but maybe they could convince his business colleagues they were a couple. Certainly she had twenty thousand good reasons to try.
‘Welcome, welcome!’ An older man came to meet them and Eve recognised him from the newspapers. Eric Culshaw had aged, though, she noticed, his silvering hair white at the temples, his shoulders a little stooped as if he’d held the weight of the world on them. Given the nature of the scandal that had rocked his world, maybe that was how he felt. He pumped Leo’s hand. ‘Welcome to you both,’ he said, smiling broadly.
‘Eric,’ Leo said, ‘allow me to introduce my fiancée, Evelyn Carmichael.’
And Eric’s smile widened as he took her hand. ‘It is indeed a pleasure, Evelyn. Come over and meet everyone.’
Eve needed the few short seconds to get over the scale of the suite. She’d arranged the bookings for all the rooms, similar corner spa suites for Leo and the Alvarezes, and the presidential suite for the Culshaws, but she’d had no idea just how grand they were. Leo’s suite had seemed enormous, with the separate living area, but this suite was more like an entire home. A dining room occupied the right third of the room, a study opposite the entry, and to the left a generous sitting area, filled with plump sofas and welcoming armchairs. Doors hinted at still more rooms, no doubt lavish bedrooms and bathrooms and a kitchen for the dining room, and all along one side was a wall of windows to take in the view of the Melbourne city skyline. The others were sipping champagne in the living room, admiring the view, when they joined them.
Eric made the introductions. Maureen Culshaw was a slim sixty-something with a pinched face, like someone had pricked her bubble when she wasn’t looking. Clearly the scandal had hurt both the Culshaws deeply. But her grey eyes were warm and genuine, and Eve took to her immediately, the older woman wrapping her hands in her own. ‘I’m so pleased you could come, Evelyn. Now, there’s a name you don’t hear terribly often these days, although I’ve met a few Eves in my time.’
‘It was my grandmother’s name,’ she said, giving the other woman’s hands a return squeeze, ‘and a bit of a mouthful, I know. Either is perfectly fine.’
Maureen said something in return, but it was the movement in Eve’s peripheral vision that caught her attention, and she glanced up in time to see something skate across Leo’s eyes, a frown tugging at his brow, and for a moment she wondered what that was about, before Eric started introducing the Alvarezes, snagging her attention.
Richard Alvarez looked tan and fit, maybe fifteen years younger than Eric, with sandy hair and piercing blue eyes. His wife, Felicity, could have been a film star and was probably another ten years younger than he, dark where he was fair, exotic and vibrant, like a tropical flower in her gown of fuchsia silk atop strappy jewel-encrusted sandals.
Waiters unobtrusively brought platters of canapés and more glasses of champagne, topping up the others, and they settled into the lounge area, Leo somehow managing to steer them both onto the long sofa where he sat alongside her, clearly part of the act to show how close they were.
Extremely close apparently.
For he stretched back and looped an arm around her shoulders, totally at ease as he bounced the conversation between Eric and Richard, though Eve recognised it for the calculated move it was. Yet still that insider knowledge didn’t stop her catching her breath when his fingers lazily traced a trail down her shoulder and up again, a slow trail that had her senses humming and her nipples on high alert and a curling ribbon of desire twisting and unfurling inside her. A red ribbon. Velvet. Like the sound of Leo’s voice…
‘Evelyn?’
She blinked, realising she’d been asked a question that had completely failed to register through the fog