Keeping Her Up All Night (7 page)

Luckily, when the chips were down, inspiration could strike him. Right at that moment he had an image of his aunt’s face, and along with it the calendar she kept pinned to her fridge with all her social commitments.

Something about a meeting of the Kirribilli Mansions Residents’ Committee. At six p.m. on the thirtieth. Wasn’t this the thirtieth?

A
T THE
end of a difficult day, Amber wished, rather than pressing for the lift to take her to the residents’ meeting, she could be far away. On a Pacific cruise, like Jean, or better still the planet Saturn.

Somewhere free from the threat of hungry wolves with sexy mouths. The sooner the honeymooners were home, the happier she would be. The safer. The sheer energy cost of having met Guy Wilder was exhausting.
Twice
while he’d been in the shop this morning she’d been tempted to soften. Twice. She’d actually, for a fleeting instant, considered his demand to meet him. Visions of exotic temptations at the Shangri-la had floated in her imagination for a teensy, tantalising second. Before her brain had cut in.

Give in to that and where would her self respect be?

After he’d gone, though, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of his expression when he’d turned to leave. The lines of his face had tautened to make him look so—grim.

Oh, Amber. Please
. What was wrong with her? Had she forgotten everything she’d learned? She stiffened her spine and shoulders in resistance for a second or so, then let them slump.

Who was she kidding? She knew what was amiss, all right. Having once tasted the wine, the Eustacia Vye in her was craving another sip. A stroll under the gum trees.
Perhaps even a swipe of her head from the palm fronds at the Shangri-la.

She had to fight it—
had
to. Hadn’t she learned only too well how powerfully that addiction could take hold? It was so insidious. The effects of even that single sexual encounter had sunk so deep. Everything about him seemed to have crept into her senses. His hands, his eyebrows. That way he had of considering her every light word as if it had been carved in concrete.

And it was becoming blindingly clear that, regardless of the things she
said
to him, every moment she spent in his dangerous company only fuelled the flames.

To add to her quandary, this afternoon she’d received an e-card in her junk mail from Jean.

Amber had puzzled over it for minutes. TLC for
Guy
? Was Jean kidding? Did she realise what TLC meant? Maybe she had her acronyms mixed up.

The residents’ meetings were usually lacklustre affairs, though the oldies got a kick from the gossip. Amber had been to a few of the smaller ones, but tonight’s was the big annual affair, where the residents and arcade tenants combined.

Though everyone she’d talked to in the mall seemed to be planning to attend, Amber felt tempted to bypass the entire event. Go straight home and soak in a long, soothing, chamomile-scented bath. Wash her hair and paint her toenails. Chill and stop thinking of wine and—that man.

If only tonight’s gathering hadn’t been slated as especially
important. Roger had told her that once the tower residents’ issues were dealt with the business owners would be discussing future directions in the arcade.

A worrying thought occurred to her. What if they discussed her shop and she wasn’t there to defend herself? Though surely they wouldn’t do anything so unprofessional? The shopkeepers were all friends, in a low-key sort of way. Regardless of Roger’s quiet hints to her, everyone was always treated with consideration at the meetings.

With a sigh, she braced herself to be bored, pasted on a smile, and walked into the assembly room.

What?
She nearly choked. Shock speared through her from head to toe.

Guy was there.

Not only was he there, he was occupying Jean’s place at the official desk. But why? As secretary of the committee, it was Jean’s usual role to take the minutes. In her absence anyone else could do it. But there
he
was, laptop open before him, conversing with people, as relaxed and confident as if he belonged there.

On the other side of the room, some instinct or vibration on the air made Guy glance up. Despite what had happened between them this morning, his heart-rate bumped up a notch. Spring had walked into the room. She was hesitating just inside the rear entrance, as slender and fragile in her flowery dress as an iris.

He noticed her stiffen and the set of her delicate jaw firm slightly.

She’d spotted him, then. As a spontaneous response, it was hardly flattering. More like a skewer through the guts. One way or another, he really needed to fix things with her.

Amber’s heart thumped with the stress. What was
he doing here? Invading her professional life? This was wrong. All wrong.

An elderly major from the eighth floor was bending his ear while Guy lounged in his chair nodding, occasionally smiling. She could see him charming the old digger’s socks off. Smiling. Convincing the old boy there was nothing in the world as interesting as his reminiscences about the war.

Guy looked around at her then and their eyes clashed. She saw his face stiffen for an instant, but that might have only been a shadow because it was gone in a trice. He just nodded coolly and went back to the war story as if she was no one of importance.

Strangely, though, in spite of her cynicism, she had the strongest sensation his cool was a total sham. He was as aware of her as if there was no one else in the room.

She knew it with absolute certainty. Because although the room was filling up, buzzing with people, groups chatting here and there, the usual throng gossiping by the desk, she felt gripped by exactly the same obsessive awareness herself.

Heaven forgive her, but right at this moment no one else in the room existed. In fact, it wouldn’t have come as a surprise to her to learn that he’d engineered his way into the meeting specifically to pursue her. But why?

Her tension increased. Had he thought she was playing some game with him this morning? Didn’t he understand she wanted nothing of him?

She waited until a couple of people blocked his line of sight before sidling up to the table and reaching through a chink between bodies for a copy of the agenda.

Before she could snatch one Guy’s hand was there first. His fingertips brushed hers, and it was like a couple of electric wires crossing. As his intense darkened eyes clashed with hers the breath was knocked from her lungs.
She had a wild fleeting impression of showering sparks, sizzling air, walls shaking.

He handed her the sheet. ‘Hello, Amber.’ His voice had that darker, quarry pit quality from the other night.

‘Oh. Hi … er … thanks.’

She backed away, then scouted about for a chair, choosing an inconspicuous place near the exit, from where she could keep her eye on the desk without seeming to.

She wasn’t shaking, was she? No. She just felt … a little … shaken up.

She felt pretty sure the thudding going on in her chest was from adrenaline. But if he was hoping to succeed in seducing her again by intruding into every area of her life he was wasting his time. Nothing he said could make the way he’d treated her acceptable.
Nothing
.

That was exactly the trap she’d fallen into with Miguel. Time and time again. He’d make her feel sorry for him, she’d forgive him, then he’d act like an even bigger jerk than before.

Across the room she caught sight of Roger in a huddle with some of her arcade neighbours, including Marc and Di Delornay.

Amber glanced again. Was there was something strange about them? They looked quite secretive. Conspiratorial, almost. Were they plotting something?

Di looked over at that moment and crossed gazes with her, then muttered something out of the side of her mouth. Worryingly, the others all stopped talking. Some cast Amber covert glances, then the group broke up.

Had they been talking about
her
? What about? Something to do with the shop?

She tightened her hold on the agenda. Too bad. They could talk all they liked. She had nothing to apologise for, and right now more pressing issues to deal with. Despite
her edgy pulse, she threw them all a breezy wave and pretended to read.

If he had to be here, it was a good thing Guy was taking the minutes, actually. Because it meant she could slip away before the meeting ended. Before he had a chance to waylay her. He’d be stuck here, noting down every last word.

The moment arrived when the hum of conversation eased. The chairperson, large in cyclamen, gathered her majestic bulk and called the meeting to order.

‘Most of you will have met Jean’s nephew, Guy,’ the chair announced, twiddling her pearls and beaming through the diamanté frames of her specs. ‘Guy’s kindly offered to fill in for Jean in her absence. I think you’ll agree it’s wonderful of this busy, busy man to give us a slice of his precious time.’

‘Hear, hear.’

There was a small round of applause, then the meeting got underway, with sundry minor items being thoroughly dissected by the residents while the business owners sighed and stared at the ceiling. Guy seemed to take his secretarial role seriously, typing occasional bursts on his keyboard and listening intently.

Every so often the chair turned to him and asked for his opinion, just as she usually did with Jean, and he answered with such calm, intelligent reason Amber gritted her teeth. All right, she could admit he appeared to have a certain authority.

She could see people warming to him. And why wouldn’t they? He was charming.
She’d
warmed to him. And he had that sophisticated aura of the city hanging about him. Honestly, every time she saw him he looked less and less like the musician she’d made love with. Though how her mind could even
think
those words in reference to him without
choking …

No, now he looked quite the slick, corporate advertising man he appeared on his website. A purely objective scan of his face revealed his five o’clock shadow, advanced since this morning. And it so suited his lean face. Drew aching attention to the sensuousness of his chiselled mouth. A mouth she’d kissed.

Had kissed her.

That trick he had of smiling with his eyes as he listened to someone …

Involuntarily, her insides curled over. She fixed her gaze firmly on her agenda. Looking at him was painful.

If everyone here knew how deeply cold and ruthless he was in his private life, they wouldn’t all be queuing up to agree with his opinion. As if he was now the final authority on how to deal with everything from the City Council to the janitor. Considering his casual way of treating Jean’s flat, there was such irony in that.

Amber’s eye fell on the last item on the agenda. ‘Tenancy Relocations’. What was that about? Marc was probably hoping it referred to Fleur Elise.

Guy gave half his brain to the proceedings, sifting out the crucial points with the expertise of experience. The other half was focused on framing some words. Lyrics had never been so tricky. How had he ever made such a complete hash as he had this morning?

Still, was there a woman in the world who was straightforward? This morning he’d finally comprehended something about Amber. It had rocked him. Made his heart clench at odd moments all day. It was no wonder his conscience was burning like hell.

He’d seen it in her before without understanding. But now …

He hated this feeling of having bruised something delicate.
It had hit him with blinding force that Amber O’Neill was as tender as one of her own rose petals.

Roger, the CEO, rose from his chair, still blathering, and walked around to plant himself before the assembly.

Foiled by good manners from making an early escape, Amber shifted restlessly in her chair. How much longer did she have to stay here, avoiding Guy Wilder’s piercing gaze?

Roger cleared his throat and she gave him her unwilling attention.

‘As you know, in a centre like this it’s the management’s job to guarantee that every business maintains a professional standard. I’ve been in discussion with some of you about your particular issues, and most tenants—’ here he cast an approving look around the room ‘—in fact I think I can report that nearly
all
have either complied already or have signed the agreement to meet our renovation deadline.’ He frowned down at his notes, then scanned the assembled faces. ‘There are still a couple of people who haven’t settled their plans with us yet.’

Amber’s insides lurched as his probing gaze scanned the faces, then settled on her.

‘Just wondering how you’re travelling with this, Amber? I have at least one applicant willing to lease your location if you don’t want to keep it on. Let’s see—your lease expires two months from now. Have you made any arrangements to move out of the arcade?’

Amber blenched with shock. To
move
?

Her brain seemed to slow down to a sort of paralysis. Was he being serious? Could he really be saying what it sounded like?

Hot with confusion, she grew aware of all eyes turning in her direction. With a pang she realised Guy was witnessing this. Her public humiliation.

With all her being she wished he was a hundred miles away.

Unable to help herself, she shot a covert glance in his direction. Not focusing directly, of course, but she could feel his gaze torching her face. She felt herself turning a slow, agonised red.

If there truly was a heavenly host, now was the time for them to sink her through the carpet. She could sense everyone waiting. What did they expect her to say? They knew she didn’t want to move. She couldn’t afford to. Roger knew it. They all knew it.

Guy sat very still, a pulse ticking in his temples, uncomfortably conscious of her embarrassment. He willed her to speak.

At last.

Her voice when it came was low and sweet. Proud. Scared.

‘I wasn’t planning any such thing. My mother bought this lease and I’m hoping to extend it. I’m intending to stay right here.’

‘Ah.’ Roger smiled again smoothly. ‘Well, good … good.’ He flicked a glance towards one of the groups. ‘Then, in that case, I have some copies of the agreement here with me now, Amber. For everyone’s peace of mind I think it best we settle this for good and all. Right here, right now. Everyone okay with that?’