Runaway Cinderella Read online

  He said nothing, only his gaze lingered on her eyes, her wet lips, and lower to where the water blurred the contours of her body.

  Her breath came shallow. She wanted him to touch where his eyes had travelled. Her breasts swelled and sensitised, aching against the wet constraint of the bathers. She shifted restlessly. The water bubbled against his chest, and she wanted a similar freedom to touch and caress. She wanted…

  He stood, water surging and streaming off the hard lines of muscle and bone. “Time to shower and get ready for the evening.”

  The evening—and real life. She sagged. She’d forgotten that this man was potentially her enemy, to be fought in defence of her brother. If only she could discover if he was sincere in wanting his sister’s happiness, or if, like her dad, business interests drove him.

  “Everything will work out, Cate.”

  She no longer believed such promises. Happy endings were achieved by hard work. She towelled off quickly, then wrapped the borrowed robe around her.

  They rode up in the lift in silence. Inside the penthouse, he hesitated, then his mouth quirked and he stepped back. “Go and make yourself beautiful. I don’t think Salsa’s appreciate the drowned rat look.”

  She was well aware that her black hair was plastered to her scalp and her eyelashes were wet and spiky. “Maybe an hour won’t be long enough.”

  “If you’re fishing for compliments.” His voice deepened. “Don’t. I’d need very little encouragement to strip those bathers off you and prove how beautiful you are.”

  Her brain ceased to operate. She froze.

  “Cate.” He sounded exasperated. “Go.”

  She fled.

  Unthinkingly, she stripped off her bathers and stepped into a hot shower. If he were with her…the water became gently exploring, tantalising fingers. She moaned. Her body was enthusiastically ready to imagine Daniel sharing the shower.

  Was he showering just a few metres away? She leaned her forehead against cool tiles and fought for control. If she were a different sort of woman, she wouldn’t be here alone.

  “But I’m me.” The whisper echoed softly. She sighed and began shampooing the chlorine out of her hair.

  Cate allowed her hair to dry into its natural curl, then pinned it up. The hair clasp had a red silk rose on it that matched the print on her dress. She wore no jewellery. Better not to compete than to be outclassed by Amie’s bling.

  “Poor little working girl,” Cate mocked herself, but for all her attention on surface issues of appearance and presentation, she knew the deep internal quivers were from the thought of facing Daniel.

  “It’s pheromones, irrational.” He might want her body, she might want his, but it was only lust. When she went back to Sydney, she’d forget him. “Count on it,” she told her reflection and swept out of the bedroom, high heels clicking defiance and determination, only to halt in the doorway to the living area.

  Daniel stood looking out the windows, his hands thrust into his pockets. His very stillness made her hesitate to interrupt. Hadn’t he heard the staccato tap of her heels? “Daniel?”

  He swung around and for a long moment said nothing. Then he took his hands out of his pockets and started towards her. “You are beautiful.”

  Her smile went awry. “You look handsome yourself.”

  The formality of dark suit and white shirt underlined his masculinity.

  “This old thing?” He flicked the lapel of his expensive jacket.

  Despite her fast pulse, Cate breathed a silent sigh of relief that he had followed her lead onto the safe ground of casual teasing. He wouldn’t add to her tension tonight by playing on their attraction. She wouldn’t be able to concentrate on Rob and his feelings (or lack of them) for Amie if she was vibrating with awareness of Daniel.

  “Cate, I owe you an apology. I made you uncomfortable before, and I’m sorry. You’re a guest under my roof and you should feel safe here. I can’t deny you’re attractive, but I won’t seduce you.”

  It was a sincere apology and promise, but he stood close and she could smell the clean scent of him and remember the body beneath the formal suit. Seduction didn’t have to be a conscious thing.

  Nor was there any need to treat her as a naive girl.

  “I know you won’t seduce me,” she lied through her set smile. “Seduction would require my cooperation.”

  Devils danced in his blue eyes. “Brave words, Caty, but I meant what I said. Unfortunately.”

  He held out his hand, and she placed hers in it. The gesture was a small act of trust, an acceptance of a truce. For a little while she would accept his flattery and attention. She’d drink champagne, but remember not to over-indulge.

  His gaze ran down her body, lingered at her shoes, and came back to her eyes. “Nice shoes. Amie told me once that sexy shoes have to be impractical. A good thing I planned to drive.”

  “I could walk in these,” she said even as her toes winced at the thought of the distance to Salsa’s.

  “Those shoes are for dancing and seduction. Not walking.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Cinderella, your carriage awaits.”

  In the underground car park, she looked for the four wheel drive, then smiled with genuine delight when Daniel opened the passenger door of a Ferrari parked beside it. “I like this modern day carriage.”

  He grinned down at her as she slid into the seat. “What, no comment about boys and their toys?”

  She returned his grin. “No. It’s a great car.”

  “If you’re a good girl, I’ll even let you drive it.”

  She relaxed into the seat as she listened to the throaty roar of the engine and watched his smooth handling of the powerful car. She dropped her voice to a husky murmur. “I can be good, very good.”

  She actually saw Daniel’s knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. She dropped her false seductiveness and laughed. It was satisfying to see Daniel, and not her, discomposed for once.

  He grinned good naturedly, but gave warning. “Throw out dares like that and I’m liable to take them up.”

  “Promises, promises,” she teased, brave in her knowledge he wouldn’t break their dinner date with Amie and Rob.

  They arrived at Salsa’s and he gave the car keys to the valet and opened her door himself. He helped her out of the low slung car, then bent and kissed the sensitive skin below her left ear. His tongue tip traced a quick delicate pattern.

  “I always accept a dare,” he whispered before straightening and leading her into the restaurant.

  She walked in a daze. Her skin tingled with the incitement of his kiss and burned where his hand touched her waist, lightly guiding her.

  “There you are.” The happy shriek came from Amie, waiting with Rob in the foyer. She rushed forward, a vision in white skin-tight satin with silver sequins and feathers, and hugged Cate, babbling about how good she looked and how was she, and wasn’t this exciting?

  Cate blinked and didn’t even try to answer. Over Amie’s shoulder, she saw Rob smiling, and smiled back. Suddenly her shifting, uncertain world felt stable again.

  Daniel detached Amie with casual ease, leaving Cate free to hug her brother.

  “Amie’s right,” Rob said. “You do look wonderful, and I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me too.” She regarded Rob with affection. His suit was as expensive as Daniel’s and, in deference to Salsa’s dress rules, he wore a tie, but somehow he still managed to look raffish. His brown hair was a fraction too long, his purple and blue tie reminiscent of a thunderstorm, and his watch, though expensive, had a worn leather strap. His nose was too large for him to lay claim to good looks, but his light brown eyes were warm with affection as they dwelt on his sister.

  She hugged him again. “I’ve missed you.”

  “We missed you so much.” It was Amie who answered. “There are so many things to plan for the wedding.”

  “Plan them inside,” Daniel said.

  Cate followed his gaze and saw the maître d
' hovering with displeasure at their noisy usurpation of his kingdom. Daniel took her arm, and the maître d was quick to seize his chance and usher them all to a fine table in the dining room. Rob and Amie followed, with Amie still chattering.

  Daniel seated Cate without fuss and for the first time she noticed her surroundings. Immediately she realised just how tensely emotional she’d been. In normal circumstances, Salsa’s made itself known.

  Because Salsa’s was glorious. It occupied a renovated 1930s building and its Art Deco styling had been meticulously recreated throughout. Off-white walls, grey polished granite with black flecks and shining chromium predominated. Splashes of magenta added colour, presented in the form of orchids on the linen-draped tables, and on the walls in stylised magenta, black and silver prints.

  “Do you like it?” Amie asked.

  “It looks like a movie set.” Cate craned her neck to see more. “It’s fantastic. I’m waiting for Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers to appear.”

  “You were always a romantic,” Rob said.

  “It’s my favourite place.” Amie looked around expectantly. “And the food is luscious.”

  “Talking of food.” Daniel indicated the hovering waiter, but his attention was on Cate.

  “I’m not really a romantic.” She felt she had to deny the charge. “Not anymore.”

  Daniel’s eyes darkened. “Something will have to be done about that.”

  “Cate, you have to try the French onion soup. It’s to die for.” Amie busily organised the table.

  Cate watched Rob withstand the mini-cyclone he was engaged to, as he ordered his old favourite, tomato soup. Their mum had always made it with basil. Cate had never found a recipe that tasted as good.

  “But Rob.” Amie was happily scolding. “You’re not to have whitebait. Imagine eating those itty-bitty fish whole.” She shuddered.

  “Yes, Rob. Try to be civilised,” Cate teased. Their mum used to say something very similar to their dad, who had introduced Rob to the tiny whole fish and passed on his addiction.

  “They serve their whitebait with paprika, here.” But Rob shrugged and accepted the women’s dictum. “I’ll have the fisherman’s pie.”

  Cate followed Amie’s advice and ordered poached salmon.

  “It comes with a gorgeous orangey sauce.”

  Daniel joined Rob in ordering the fisherman’s pie.

  When it came to the main course, there was no discussion. Apparently ham smoked over wine barrel shavings and glazed in a sweet spicy red sauce, was the house specialty. Amie ordered for them all.

  “And we’ll sort out dessert when we come to it,” Rob said and dismissed the waiter with a request for champagne. “Champagne for celebrations.” He addressed Cate. “Remember your twenty first birthday?”

  “And you bought the whole bar champagne?” Cate sparkled with the memory. Impulsively she turned to Daniel and Amie. “It was brilliant. Rob flew into Sydney especially for my birthday and we went to the Opera House for the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, The Pirates of Penzance. I love Gilbert and Sullivan. Afterwards, we bumped into people I knew from work and we ended up in a small bar. Rob shouted champagne for everyone to celebrate my birthday. We had so much fun.”

  “So did I at my twenty first,” Amie said. “Daniel paid for the most lavish party. We had an Arabian Nights theme and it was huge. Fiona Ulton was green with envy—do you remember Fiona, Cate? Never mind. It was the hugest party. Everyone looked amazing.”

  Cate smiled at her old friend’s enthusiasm. Actually, she could imagine Daniel as a golden sheik.

  “I went as an eunuch, a harem guard,” he said.

  Cate choked on her champagne.

  Amie laughed. “Daniel said he was sick of women chasing him and maybe they’d take a hint. But of course, they didn’t listen.”

  “I went as a court scribe,” Rob said. “No one chased me.”

  Cate waited.

  Now was the time for Amie—if she was in love—to reassure him. Instead, she beamed at Daniel. “It was the best party. Everyone was there.”

  Everyone but Cate.

  She saw Rob realise, and look anxiously at her. She smiled. “I think our soups are arriving.” The serving of their soup gave Cate a breathing space to assess the evening so far.

  Amie was much as she remembered her: petite, blonde, bubbly and totally unlike Daniel. Rob, however, seemed different.

  Was it only her worry influencing her perception? He looked healthy, and he smiled when he caught Cate’s eye, but where was his smile for Amie? Even with the return of the prodigal sister, shouldn’t a newly engaged man be absorbed in his fiancée?—if the engagement was a real love match.

  “How’s the soup?” Amie asked.

  Cate had been eating without noticing. She concentrated. “Sweet.”

  It seemed unlikely, but Amie nodded. “They caramelise the onions here. And there’s a hint of thyme.”

  “You’re really into cooking, Amie. Have you studied it?”

  The animation fled Amie’s face and she shot Daniel an indecipherable glance. “Not really,” she said in answer to Cate’s question.

  “Amie volunteers with an animal rescue service,” Rob said.

  Amie regained her enthusiasm as she described the sweethearts of cats, dogs and pet birds rescued and re-housed. “I like happy endings.”

  “And now you’re going to live your own happy ever after,” Cate said with intent. “When and where did Rob propose?”

  “It wasn’t anything exciting.” Amie’s offhand manner didn’t quite hide her disappointment.

  Cate looked at Rob, and couldn’t read his expression.

  He watched Amie.

  “We were having dinner in a small restaurant in the hills and Rob popped the question.”

  “Did you make him wait or did you answer straight away?”

  “You know me. Open mouth and out come the words. I accepted before Rob could change his mind.”

  Rob smiled. “I wouldn’t do that.” But he didn’t reach for Amie’s hand. Perhaps it was only a question of timing. It wouldn’t be easy to romantically hold hands while a waiter served the fish course.

  “Just wait till you taste the salmon.” Amie eagerly changed the subject. “You’ll be asking for a second helping.”

  “Maybe Cate has some self-restraint,” Daniel said. It was an unexpectedly blighting comment.

  Amie, though, shrugged it off. She laughed. “Daniel’s been rescuing me from my enthusiasm since I was a toddler. Big brothers are wonderful, but they’re bossy.” She grinned at Cate, sharing a joke.

  “I can imagine it of Daniel.” Cate tasted the salmon and found Amie was right. The light citrus sauce was divine. “But Rob’s never thrown his weight around.”

  “You make me sound like a wuss.” Rob stabbed at his fisherman’s pie.

  Cate blinked. Rob was usually easy-going. “No, just a nice guy.”

  He didn’t answer and Cate felt her appetite shrivel. What was the use of delicious food when your only brother was poking moodily and uncharacteristically at his food? She had been right to fly to Perth. Rob wasn’t happy about his forthcoming marriage.

  She looked at Daniel and found him observing her.

  “How’s your salmon, Cate? Or is it too early to judge?” The comment was pointed.

  Her chin lifted. “The salmon is delicious. I am happy about the salmon.” But not happy about the state of affairs between Rob and Amie.

  She saw Daniel got the message.

  Amie’s forehead wrinkled. “What a strange thing to say. Happy about the salmon.”

  Amie’s expression reminded Cate of how she’d looked through high school—continually bemused. Amie was enthusiastic and compassionate, but she wasn’t a brain.

  Not that intelligence matters compared to a loving heart, Cate thought. If only she knew that Rob and Amie truly loved one another, she’d be happy for them. But she couldn’t see any signs of devotion.

  “Don’t you
think food should make you feel happy?” she said at random. “Certain foods match certain emotions. Like champagne is for celebrations and chicken noodle soup is for comfort.”

  “So is chocolate.” Amie giggled, evidently intrigued by the notion of emotional dining. “Oysters for seduction and porridge for when you’re feeling stodgy.”

  “What would you serve if you were feeling angry?” Daniel asked idly.

  “Squid served in its own ink. The dish is all black. It’s disgusting.”

  “Take note, Rob,” Cate teased gently. “Don’t make Amie angry.”

  “I’ll remember.” He didn’t look up from his fisherman’s pie.

  The joke fell flat and a small silence descended. Cate listened to the hum of conversation and chink of china from surrounding tables. Amie, despite her professed enjoyment of Salsa’s food, toyed with her salmon rather than ate it.

  Daniel rescued the conversation by launching into a tale about airport delays and missed flights on his last trip to China. It was a topic all four could relate to and it drew Rob into the conversation.

  “Heathrow is the worst,” he said. “Even after all the changes, I still dread it.”

  “Yeah. People get cranky and cross and it becomes a nightmare.” Amie shuddered. “I prefer to fly to Charles de Gaulle Airport in France. Then if I want anything in London, I just take the train.”

  Cate smiled ruefully. Her experience of international flights was limited to Africa and South America. In the glamour stakes, she wasn’t even a starter.

  But Daniel had also travelled to some remote areas. Cate tended to forget he’d been a geologist before turning businessman.

  “Small Third World airports are the worst.” He pushed away his plate. “Pickpockets and the need for bribery. And when there’s a delay with your flight—and there always is—you have to sleep wrapped around your belongings to prevent them being stolen.”

  “But the people are friendly,” Cate argued. “They’re philosophers. Most of them accept the delays. I’ve had some great conversations in tin shed airports.”

  “That’s because people like you,” Rob said.

  She smiled. “What a lovely compliment. Thank you.”