Australia: Wicked Mistresses(16)

When he stopped before her, she expected his mouth to break into his trademark sexy-as-sin smile. She expected him to sweep her up and kiss her as he’d kissed her through the magical hours of last night. But his lopsided grin remained fixed, and the gleam in his eye seemed somehow…cool.

She felt a little off balance when his fingers curled around her arm and his freshly shaved cheek rubbed lightly against hers.

His lips brushed her temple. “How was your afternoon?”

“Busy.” Her ankle throbbed to punctuate the point.

He drew away and assessed her butter-yellow dress, his gaze deliberately trailing her shape in a vaguely predatory fashion before he ushered her, a hand on her elbow, towards the outdoor setting.

He indicated an ice bucket. “Champagne?”

“You said you’d have it poured,” she teased.

“Nothing worse than when bubbles go flat.”

He popped the cork, and foam spilled over the rim to darken the timber near his feet. To take her mind off his intoxicating sandalwood scent, she inspected the champagne label.

“My father used to keep a couple of bottles of that for special occasions.”

“It’s a rare vintage.” He handed her a glass. “Is your father here with you on the island?”

The breath went out of her. “He died a few years ago.”

His gaze jumped up from his pouring of a second glass. His searching eyes clouded and his voice dropped. “Nina…I’m sorry.”

She sighed quietly. Gabriel could be so strong, yet there were times, like now, he could be so sensitive. As if he truly knew her. Knew her like no one else could.

But then he cleared his throat, raised his glass to his lips, and the deeper moment was gone.

“I bumped into someone this afternoon.” He sipped, swallowed. “He told me the most fascinating story.”

He was watching her over the rim of his glass and the glint in his eyes now seemed almost steely. She’d seen a few sides to Gabriel—uncompromising hero, charmer, believer, lover. When they’d left the cabin this morning he’d been cagey. But the vibes she caught now didn’t fit with any of that.

That pointed gleam in his gaze was enough to make her shiver. Who was the “someone” he’d spoken with?

She sipped champagne without tasting it and when he didn’t divulge more she asked, “What did this man say?”

A humourless smile tugged one side of his mouth. “I thought you might like to tell me.”

Her breath died in her chest. She closed her eyes as her stomach rolled over twice, then sank to her knees. Her throat convulsed and she swallowed.

“You know.”

His chin went up. “I know.”

She’d been caught out before she’d had the chance to come clean. Someone had let on that she was an employee of the island and, given the hard line of his jaw, Gabriel wasn’t pleased.

She managed to keep her voice steady. “Gabriel, let me explain—”

“I will. But first…”

His palm scooped behind her neck and his mouth opened over hers. The lip-to-lip contact sent jets of recognition shooting through her veins. Every cell in her body seemed to tremble, light up and press in. The renewed awareness was so strong, so vital, it was all she could do to remember that…

That this kiss was different.

Rougher.

Dominating.

When their lips parted, her world had slanted and the room seemed to spin.A pulse beat wildly in his cheek, and if he released her there was every possibility she might slide to the floor. As if reading her thoughts, he dragged out a chair. Numbness taking over, she fell into the seat.

“I took the liberty of ordering,” he told her, gesturing to the silver domes set on the table while her mind whirled on. He lifted one dome and the aroma of lobster mornay, scalloped potatoes and buttered asparagus filled her lungs.

He folded into the adjacent slat-backed chair.

“Before you tell your story, Nina, I thought you might like to know more about mine.” He removed his dome, then his napkin flicked out with a snap. “I became aware that Diamond Shores’ previous owner was interested in a buy-out when I paid for April’s wedding and reception. She has no family. After her dedication to her job these past five years, that gift was the least I could do.” He nodded amicably at her plate. “Eat before it gets cold.”

Her limbs were fifty-pound weights. Her lips and tongue were rubber.

“I…I’m not very hungry.”

He collected his cutlery and continued his thread. “You know the resort is running at a loss,” he said, in a monotone that still managed to send heatwaves shimmering over her skin. “The hand-over was low-key. Making my presence known here only to the managers was a strategic decision. It’s difficult to get an accurate idea of performance when fanfares announce your every move. I needed a clear indication of which heads should roll.”

His gaze, holding hers, was both ablaze and cold as a snowstorm. An arctic chill chased up her spine. She couldn’t bear the stomach knots a moment longer.

“I was features editor for a teen magazine,” she got out, clenching the napkin beside her plate. “I was retrenched along with others. I needed a job, but there was nothing available in publishing. It was all I knew.”

All she was.

“That was your crisis?” he surmised, and she nodded. His napkin patted one corner of his mouth. “How did you get a job here?”

“A friend’s father knew the owner. The former owner.” Or so it seemed.

“You had no experience?”

“Next to none.”

His short laugh was abrasive. “No wonder the place is sinking.”

She set her teeth, but continued, “Alice said the hours would be long but the money was good. I could make my mortgage repayments.” Blindly studying her plate, she leaned back. “I didn’t want to lose my house.”

When she levelled her gaze at him, something almost human flashed across his face. But then he took a mouthful of champagne and placed the glass down heavily.

“And yesterday?”

“Was my first afternoon off in what seemed like for ever,” she said. “I was physically and emotionally drained. Most of the staff don’t like me, you see. And it’s true I have a lot to learn. They have every right to feel undervalued. That doesn’t help the way I feel.” Lonely. Very nearly hopeless. “Yesterday I wanted to get as far away from the resort as I could. I started walking, collecting shells to send to my baby nephew back in Sydney.”

“Nephew?”

“My sister’s baby. Codie’s six months old. Jill’s a single mum. She deferred her Masters in Biology to look after him for the first couple of years and—” She stopped, sighed. “You’re really not interested in any of that, are you?”

Gabriel held his impassive face. She was a consummate manipulator, trying to find his vulnerable spot even now. Years had passed, but nothing had changed. Nina was used to getting what she wanted, and it seemed she wanted his sympathy. Wanted him to bail her out.

This afternoon, when he’d uncovered her game, his chest had filled with rage. Having known the princess fourteen-year-old Nina Petrelle had been, he’d easily joined the dots. He had no idea where the Petrelle fortune had gone, but the woman sitting across from him, trying to tug at his heartstrings, needed money badly enough to don an apron. She’d lucked out when he’d come bounding along yesterday to save her. She’d played her cards well and he’d fallen for her.

To a degree.

He didn’t like to be deceived. He’d envisaged sacking her on the spot, throwing her out of her lodgings. He’d imagined the crocodile tears, her pleas, those attempts to use her femme fatale skills to get her way. In hindsight he believed only one thing she’d said.

She wanted to find herself—aka needed to have, to hold, real money again.

His money.

His lips stretched over his teeth.

Time for Act II.

“You might recall I said I’d known a Nina once.” He collected his cutlery again and cut into firm asparagus. “Tell me, have you ever known anyone else called Gabriel?”

His comment pulled Nina up. Her nape prickled with a different kind of awareness as she nodded. “A friend of my brother’s. Gabe Turner.”

“What else do you remember?”

“He was a stuffed-shirt geek who my brother, for some reason, adored.” That horrid gnawing in her gut deepened. She studied the man sitting opposite and instinctively sat back. “Why do you want to know?”

His ice-blue gaze held hers for an endless moment before he announced, “Because that Gabe is this Gabe. Gabriel Turner is me.”

Nina wanted to throw back her head and laugh. She’d never heard anything so ridiculous. Instead she paused to consider the statement more deeply.

“No,” she groaned, slowly shaking her head. “You said…your name is Steele.”

But from the start hadn’t there been a distant whisper of this? Seeing him standing on that cliff a second before she’d passed out…even then he’d seemed somehow familiar. This man—the man she’d shared a bed with—he couldn’t possibly be that stiff, zero taste, no personality dweeb she remembered from all those years ago.

Could he?

“Turner was my mother’s name,” he said. “My aunt’s name. When I made amends with my father in my late teens, I took his name. Steele.”