Sweet Seduction Surrender (12 page)

"I'm fine, Dom. Just overworked. That's all." Silence again. He didn't believe me. Was I that bad a liar? "Anyway, I've got to go, I'm running late for this thing."

"Thing?" he asked, amused and clearly ignoring my efforts to cut the conversation off at the pass.

"Event. Schmooze-fest. A client is throwing a little party to show off the room I just designed for her and has invited several of her friends to meet me. She seems to think they'd all be interested in hiring my services."

"That's great news," Dom said enthusiastically.

"Yes, well, I'm not sure I want to do similar designs as the one I created for her." I shouldn't have admitted that. I should have just got out while I was ahead.

"Why ever not?" Dominic asked, incredulously. "Business is business, Katie. You can't pay the bills if you don't have the contracts lined up."

"I know, Dom. I'm not entirely new to this sort of thing."

"So, why don't you want to do this design again? Why miss opportunities when they are presented to you just because you need to change things up a bit."

I bristled. I was not a flighty person.

"That's not it at all."

"Then what is it?"

"I just don't think the design will work elsewhere."

"That's nonsense," he retorted. "You once told me a design can be manipulated for any environment, as long as one of the individual elements within the design has a commonality with the final location."

Oh dear. I had said that.

"Sometimes you have to go with your gut," I replied weakly.

"That is the worst argument you have ever given me, Katie. I'm disappointed."

I lowered my head to rest it on my steering wheel. Great. Being told off by my lawyer brother because I'm not debating an issue to the best of my abilities. I said this day was going to be long. I just didn't realise how tediously long it would be.

"Dom," I said on a sigh.

"It's all right. You've said enough. I understand you don't want to talk about this, but we're worried about you, Katie. And it's obvious that something is not perfect in my sister's world."

"Dom," I whispered. "I'm too old to have my big brothers fight all my battles for me. There comes a time when I just have to stand on my own two feet."

Silence again. Dom was very good at that. I refused to fill it, as it was his most powerful weapon.

Finally, he relented.

"OK. I'm here if you need me.
We're
here if you need us."

I didn't say anything, my voice was lost, just swiped the screen to end the call.

I stared blankly out of the car windscreen, replaying the entire afternoon. From walking into Sweet Seduction - my coffee was now stone cold - to Genevieve's worried expression and then Dominic's brotherly phone call. But the biggest
blip
in my mind right then was their news. The announcement that they'd be making on Sunday at the barbecue.

It
was
great news. Dom would make a brilliant father. They both deserved it so very much. I was happy for them. So very happy for them.

My tears plopped heavily onto my lap, leaving isolated spots in the fabric. The more they fell, the heavier they felt... on my legs... in my heart. I shouldn't have been crying. I had no right to feel this desolate at such fantastic news. There was no reason for me to be so bereft. So sad.

But I am.

My cellphone broke the silence, but failed to still my weeping.

Nick. Brother number two checking up on me. Was it Dominic or Genevieve who phoned him? Maybe someone was watching the Sweet Seduction security cameras at ASI, after all. I was going to have to avoid visiting Gen's shop for a little while. I think I was going to have to avoid everyone for a while. I couldn't afford for them to see me this way.

Broken.

I started the car, wiping at my face to clear my vision, and pulled away from the kerb, checking the clock on the dash to make sure I had enough time to make myself presentable before I attended Mrs Montgomery-Smith's soiree.

There were still too many hours left in this day.

I was bored out of my tree. And my cheeks had started to hurt from all the fake smiling. They almost, but not quite, over shadowed the pain in the centre of my chest. I sucked in a deep breath to try to still the roll of my stomach at that thought and took a tiny sip of my cocktail drink. I was in no fit state of mind to get drunk. That could wait until I made it home, but in front of these people... Not a chance.

"How long have you been decorating?" the woman beside me asked. I think she'd been introduced as Mrs Clarkson, but I had never met her at any of my parents' charity events, and my mind was clearly not retaining superfluous information right now.

"I graduated from university eight years ago. I started my business not long after that." I attempted to put a little cheer in my voice, but I was unsure if she noticed.

"You've made a name for yourself in a short amount of time, dear. Well done!" The 'well done' was said in that oh-my-how-did-you-do-it condescending voice people use when they don't truly believe what they're saying.

"Yes, quite," I replied, swallowing the cringe at what my mother would say to that retort.

"Katie is the next best thing," Mrs Montgomery-Smith added, as she approached from the other side of the room.

The sitting room I had completed for the Montgomery-Smiths
was
extraordinary. The design could easily be called my p
ièce de résistance
. The one project that would be at the front of every portfolio I put together from here on in. And the reason why all these stuffy people were here tonight clamouring for a slice of my attention.

I sucked in a shaky breath at how terribly ungrateful I was being. This was not me. Not the Katie Anscombe I normally strove to be. Jason had changed me in more ways than I cared to acknowledge right now. But I would not let his... heartless behaviour affect my future employment.

I pasted a smile back on my face and re-entered civilised conversation.

"It is such a thrill to be here, Mrs Montgomery-Smith," I said with enthusiasm. "I am so grateful for this evening and your continued support."

"Oh
pish
, Katie. You deserve it." And I think she actually meant it, too. My smile turned genuine. Look past the peacock that she is, and there was actually someone nice underneath. She may have driven me a little crazy during our professional entanglement, but her heart had always been in the right place.

And then she ruined my mental appraisal by say, "Oh, there's Henry and Alexandria! I must tell them all about the swimming pool we want to put in."

I started chuckling, realising I was thankfully alone again, as she trotted across the sitting room to greet two new arrivals to the event. I took a bigger sip of my drink and breathed freely for the first time that night. Apart from the newly arrived Henry and Alexandria, I had done the rounds, spoken to everyone present; wowed and schmoozed as expected. They had my contact details and had all been dazzled by my skills. All in all a successful, if not mind-numbingly boring, night.

I couldn't exactly leave yet, being as I was the quasi-guest du jour, but excluding Henry and Alexandria, I didn't have to impress anyone else. Maybe I could fade into the background and be lost in amongst the artwork until it was time to go home. I'm sure, despite them all being here to meet the designer who created this 'masterpiece', that no one would miss me.

I took a furtive look around, and then slipped out of the main part of the room and headed toward the darker, shadowy end. The Montgomery-Smith's sitting room was enormous, split up into three areas. The main event tonight was being hosted in what Mrs Montgomery-Smith called her parlour, or where she would entertain guests after dinner. At one end was a more informal sitting area, with a small selection of books and comfortable chairs. Towards the other end, where I was slinking away to now, were French doors that opened up on to the terrace, and several hand picked, well placed objets d'art. It was all for show, no seating to be had here. Simply an opportunity for the Montgomery-Smiths to show off their prized possessions.

And because of that, no one would be hiding here with me.

A cool breeze came in from the terrace. It wasn't exactly warm out, but even with my thin blouse on, I wouldn't freeze to death. I'd chosen to wear a slim line silk skirt that stopped just below my knees; a very professional and appropriate-for-this-evening looking outfit with a hint of bling, as the deep red silk in the skirt caught the lights and tended to shimmer in them. The top I had on was black, with intricate matching red silk flowers embroidered into it. It had long sleeves, the cuffs hanging over my wrists delicately, but even though the material would provide some warmth, it wasn't much. The sleeves were sheer, my pale skin visible through the loose weave. The blouse also had a lower than strictly acceptable neckline, but the length of the sleeves made up for the flash of décolletage. And anyway, let's not forget I am by no means busty.

I paused on the threshold of the terrace. I hadn't intended to go outside, but remain hidden amongst the art, in the shadows. But the stars were out and a full moon beckoned in the night sky, pulling me forward like an ocean wave. As soon as I stepped out onto the stone patio, I realised I was not the only one who was seeking a refuge tonight.

A spicy and strangely alluring smelling tobacco wafted on the air, but one quick glance around and I couldn't even see the smoke, let alone see the person who was wielding it. I stood frozen for a second trying to decide if I should go forward and be undoubtedly discovered, or head back inside, and probably be thought a fool. The smoker, whoever they were, may be hidden to my eyes right now, but I was haloed in a soft muted glow from the sitting room. I stood out like a sore thumb.

Shaking my head at myself, I prayed they would leave me alone, as I took the necessary steps to fully emerge under the moon. Surely they could see I was escaping.

I stopped beside a statue of Venus and stared unseeing up at the stars. I should have really been mingling. As Dom had said, it was an opportunity not to be missed. But I'd well and truly done my dash tonight. I was all faked out. This was the real me. Alone. Sad. A little bit teary eyed, truth be told.

I'd grown up in this environment, my parents on occasion having to attend events such as these and dragging their children along. But although my parents might have been part of this world, they were not entrenched in it. Thankfully. But several people here had mentioned my father in passing, or a charity event my mother had planned. I may not have known them, but they knew me - or at least my parents.

Jason wouldn't fit in this world. He'd look at these people and have less patience than me with their pomp and circumstance, their never ending need to be on top, to be seen. In some ways Jason and I were two completely different people. Even his sister was more able to slip into Dominic's life, than Jason would ever have been able to slip into mine.

Maybe he did me a favour. Maybe he knew this already and was saving us both further regret down the line.

I sighed. It was louder and longer than I had intended. Epiphanies can do that to you.

The smell of the tobacco grew stronger until it was obvious the smoker of the exotic smelling cigarette had approached. I turned my head slightly to see a tall man leaning against the stone railing several feet away. Watching me. He took a slow drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke out gradually, dark eyes on my face.

I blinked at him, unsure if I should greet the man or just ignore his presence altogether. He took another pull on the cigarette and waited for me to say something. I found his silence amusing for some reason. A small smile graced my lips. If he was part of this crowd he was blatantly disobeying the rules of etiquette. I turned back to look at the stars and he let a low chuckle out.

"You don't much care for this sort of thing, do you?" he asked, in a smooth voice like velvet.

"I'm not the only one escaping," I pointed out.

"Ah," he said in reply. I heard the click of a lighter and saw the flare of a flame out of the corner of my eye. He was lighting another cigarette. "Care to join me?" he asked, holding out a slim metal case that held more cigarettes inside.

"I don't smoke," I answered with a shake of my head. My body had turned slightly to look at him and I hadn't even realised.

"Neither do I, officially," he quipped, taking a purposeful drag on his cigarette. "And I'm not escaping, I've just arrived."

I stared at him for a second longer than I should have. He wasn't familiar to me, I think I would have remembered him if I had met him before. He was tall, but not as tall as Jason's six foot three. He was also much slimmer than Jason's soldier's physique. And at this point, I decided Jason Cain was not going to be the standard by which I compared all other men. I discarded all images of Jason from my mind and concentrated on the strange man beside me.

He had slightly wavy brown hair, combed back in a careless fashion. When he leant forward to flick ash off his cigarette, his hair flopped over his forehead, obscuring eyes, the colour of which I couldn't decipher in the current lighting available. He was dressed in a fine suit, one I am sure would have cost a fortune and matched the extravagance of his highly polished Italian leather shoes. He had gold cuff links on his wrists, the glint of a large round faced watch flashed from beneath the edge of his shirt sleeve.

I felt a sudden disappointment settle in my stomach. Then frowned at my reaction. Had I wanted this man to be something other than those stiffs inside Mrs Montgomery-Smith's sitting room? How utterly ridiculous. I was in no place to entertain a distraction.

Or was I?

My eyes flicked back over to the tall man, who was still watching me keenly. I held his gaze, not wilting under his perusal.

"Why the need to escape?" he asked, softly.

"It's been a long night," I offered, looking back over the Montgomery-Smith's garden. Only dark shadows met my eyes.

He nodded in either understanding or agreement.

"I thought I'd drop in, see what all the fuss is about, and make a hasty retreat afterwards," he suddenly admitted. "Malcolm said I might like their new look." Malcolm being Mr Montgomery-Smith and their new look, I guess, being my design. The stranger didn't seem enthralled with Malcolm's assessment though.

"Are you in the market for an interior designer?" I asked, not really interested in the answer but still stuck in wine and dine mode, it seemed.

"A decorator," he corrected, but there was a teasing note in his voice. My eyes flicked over to his, he was no longer smoking. His hands were thrust deep in his trouser pockets, a boyish grin on his face. "That's what they really are, isn't it? Someone who decorates a room."

"Ah," I said, mimicking his earlier nonchalance. I turned back to the stars, effectively dismissing him. "And what is it you do exactly?" I asked the night sky.

His voice came from right beside me when he spoke, I managed not to jump. "I provide the
decorators
with fine art in order to dazzle their clients."

My face swung around to look at him again. If he was an art dealer of renown I would have met him already.

This close I could see his eyes were hazel, hints of green in amongst the brown. They were unremarkable, despite their tonal colours.

"Where is your store?" I asked, finally believing at least something good could come of this tedious night. A new art dealer on my books would be a coup. Especially if he was a recent addition to town. Being the first to support a fledgling business could establish strong ties. And give me the edge over opposition.

"Parnell. I plan on opening in ten days time, but I can't find a decorator who can work on such a short time-frame." He smiled. It was beguiling, I suppose, but my mind was elsewhere.

I didn't have any contracts lined up following Mr and Mrs Montgomery-Smith's. And although I'd received countless compliments this evening, no one had hinted at a desire to redecorate their homes. Oh, they had talked the talk, but none had actually come out and said they were in the market. They'd snaffled up my business cards with pristine white toothed smiles, but none had asked so much as for a quote.

"Interior designer," I corrected absent-mindedly.

"Interior designer," he murmured in reply. Then, "You wouldn't happen to know of one, would you?"

My gaze flicked back toward the French doors and the darkened end of the sitting room I had designed.

"Have you even looked at the Montgomery-Smith's new sitting room?" I asked.

"I don't need to," he replied. "I know exactly what I want already."

"Ah," I said with understanding. "Then in answer to your question, I am not aware of a
decorator
who would suit your needs." I turned away to look out over the black garden, people like this man were hard to work for; their minds already made up and incapable of direction from a designer. My skills would be wasted here.

"Ms Anscombe," the stranger said, with obvious amusement in his tone. "Do I look like the sort of man who wouldn't have done his homework?"

I bit back the sigh before it escaped. I wasn't sure if liked this man or found him infuriating. One minute he amused, the next he offended. And it was clear he'd had an ulterior motive all along. I was a little sick and tired of men disrupting my life. But then, Mrs Montgomery-Smith hadn't been a walk in the park either.