A Past Revenge (8 page)

'Danielle—'

'I have to leave in a few minutes,' she cut in firmly. 'So if you wouldn't mind . . .?'

'But I do mind,' he grated. 'Why the hell won't you just go out with me?'

She shrugged. 'Just look at the fate that befell Miss McDonald and you'll know,' she derided.

Colour darkened his cheeks.
'I
never promised her forever, he rasped.

'You never promise any woman that,' she taunted. 'Only here and now, and enjoying yourselves while you can.'

'And what's wrong with that?'

'Nothing—for you.'

His mouth twisted. 'You want a white gown and a gold wedding ring, hmm?' he scorned.

Her eyes flashed deeply green. 'I want a man
I
can love and respect, and not necessarily in that order.' She gave him a scathing look. 'Do you think you fit the description?'

His expression was glacial,
'I
know
I
don't,' he bit out.

'Then you have your answer,' she shrugged, going into her bedroom, leaving it his decision to leave.

She may have appeared calm while she was talking.to Nick but this was the least calm she had ever felt, leaning weakly against the door. How could she have once loved such a man so much she had given herself to him at their first meeting? How could she
still
feel that trembling of awareness where he was concerned?

She hadn't believed she could feel that way about him after all this time, hadn't felt that way about any man for the last seven years. Certainly no one could accuse her of being promiscuous, she thought hysterically. In all of her twenty-six years she had known only one lover, and he had treated her cruelly enough for her never to want another!

Then why was she so physically aware of him? All the time she had been talking to him this morning she had been conscious of how ruggedly handsome he was, of how the blue shirt and grey trousers moulded to the lean length of his body, had remembered the beauty of that body and the ecstasy it had once given her, if only briefly.

A shower made her feel a little better, and she dressed in a cool lime-green sundress with tiny ribbon straps, a fitted bodice, and loose skirt, needing the look of femininity to bolster her sadly flagging self-confidence, her hair fresh and golden, her only make-up a peach lipgloss. She looked young and attractive, showing none of her confusion of a few minutes ago, she dismissed the intimate thoughts from her mind.

Nick stood up as she entered the lounge, his gaze appreciative on her young loveliness. 'It was worth waiting for,' he murmured softly.

'I thought you would have gone by now,' she snapped ungraciously, the image of cool confidence at once crumbling, leaving her strangely vulnerable when she wanted to be strong.

He shrugged unconcernedly.
'I
thought I could drive you to your parents' home.'

And check that she was actually going there! 'I can drive myself,' she picked up her car keys pointedly. 'In fact, I would prefer to do so. That way I have a lift home again.'

He gave an inclination of his head in acknowledgment of her decision. 'Then I'll walk you to your car.' He took a firm hold of her arm.

'That isn't necessary,' she snapped, trying to free herself and failing miserably.

'I'm leaving anyway,' he pointed out reasonably.

If only she didn't feel so unreasonable when in his company! In fact, she could feel positively violent at times when he was around. Especially times like this, feeling herself guided firmly in the direction of the lift, whether she wanted to go or not.

'You see, I didn't,' he drawled mockingly as they stepped out into the sunshine.

She blinked up at him, had been lost in her own thoughts the last few minutes. 'Didn't what?'

He gave a wolfish smile. 'Ravish you in the lift,' he taunted throatily.

Her face paled as she vividly remembered a time he
had
made love to her in a lift.

'Hey?' all humour left him as he gently clasped her arms, looking down at her concerned. 'What is it?'

'I—'

'Look this way, Mr Andracas,' a voice called out cheerfully from behind them.

They both turned simultaneously, and as they did so a camera clicked, Nick's arm going about her protectively as the camera clicked again.

'Thanks, Mr Andracas, Miss Smith,' the reporter grinned cheekily, a man in his mid-thirties, weighed down by the trappings of his profession. He turned quickly to get into a waiting car.

Danielle was suddenly galvanised into action.
'Hey, stop—'

'Leave it,' Nick rasped at her side, his hands tightening on her arms as the car drove away.

'But—'

'All you'll do by chasing after him is add to his story,' he pointed out resignedly. ' "Latest Andracas mistress denies romance",' he quoted with a sigh.

Danielle wrenched out of his grasp. 'Because there isn't,' she said forcefully.

'A denial will only increase their speculation,' he reasoned. 'The fact that I'm leaving your apartment with you now gives the impression I spent the night here.'

'But you didn't!' she gasped.

He gave her a pitying glance. 'And who do you think will believe that?'

'Anyone who knows me!'

'And everyone else, the people who know
me?
'
he pointed out mockingly.

She looked at him with hate in her eyes, tears glistening there. 'God, how I despise you,' she told him vehemently. 'I despise everything about you. But especially this. I'll never forgive you for it. Never!'

'Danielle—'

'Don't touch me,' she evaded his reaching grasp. 'You probably arranged all this just to compromise me into going out with you!' she added accusingly.

He shook his head. 'Don't be ridiculous. I hate this sort of publicity as much as the next man.'

"Then how would that reporter have known to come to
my
apartment?' she scorned.

Nick shrugged, sighing deeply. 'He could have
followed me—'

'Or he could have been told precisely where you would be,' she finished pointedly.

'Not by me,' he grated.

'And certainly not by me,' she snapped.

His mouth thinned. 'That leaves only one person who could have even guessed I would be coming to see you today. Audra!'

Danielle's eyes widened as he rasped the other woman's name. It would be the sort of thing the other woman would do, but that didn't mean that she had. Although someone had directed that reporter to her apartment.
'I
don't care
who
it was,' she told Nick sharply. 'I just don't want to be caught up in your publicity ever again!' She turned on her heel and walked over to her parked car.

'Danielle—'

She turned to look at him briefly before getting into her car, the sunlight giving his hair an ebony sheen. 'Yes?'

'Have a nice day?' he called softly.

She gave a snort of disgust before climbing into her car, watching as he swung lithely inside the sleek Ferrari parked at the roadside, the black model of the past replaced by this silver one. He drove past her with a brief wave of acknowledgment.

Danielle drove more slowly than him, giving herself time to think, intending to go to her parents' house now that she was out of the apartment.

Nick had been adamant that he had had nothing to do with the reporter being outside her apartment, and she believed him. He knew her well enough by now to know how she would react to such publicity, how she liked to keep a low profile. That only left Audra and the threat she had made yesterday evening. The reporter trailing her and Nick was another warning; she had a feeling things could get a lot rougher.

God, how she wished she had followed her instincts that day Lewis brought her this latest commission, wished she had refused it and stayed as far away from Nick as she could. If she weren't careful he would destroy her life a second time, and there wouldn't be a thing she could do to stop it.

Her parents were pleased, if surprised, to see her again so soon after she had spent the evening with them on Friday, and she saw her father giving her several probing glances. Tall, and still handsome in his mid-fifties, her father hardly looked the part of the successful businessman he was, people who didn't know him personally often mistaking him for one of his own accountants. But he could be ruthless if the occasion merited it, and where his family was concerned he fiercely guarded his own.

'Your mother is worried about you,' he was looking at her closely.

The two of them sat together in the garden of her parents' Richmond home, her mother just having gone into the house to check on when the lunch would be ready. 'That's strange,' Danielle gave him a teasing smile. 'Mummy said the same thing about you when we went shopping yesterday.'

He pulled a face. 'I forget how astute you are. All right,' he nodded. 'We're both concerned about you. Your mother tells me you've become involved with Nick Andracas.'

Danielle relaxed back in the garden chair, at ease now that she was with her family. 'I'm sure Mummy didn't tell you any such thing,' she sipped her sherry. 'I've already explained to her that he's just a client of mine.'

'Hm, well I don't think it's a good idea for you to have met him at all.'

'Why?'

'I know the sort of man he is,' her father looked grim. 'He always wants what he can't have, and that includes women as well as business.'

Danielle frowned at this correct description of Nick. 'I didn't realise you knew him?'

'I
don't, at least, not personally. He tried to take over my company a couple of years ago, and he didn't mind what he paid to get it.'

'I didn't realise that,' she said dazedly.

'No, well I don't like to bother you and your mother with business. But I haven't been unaware of the relatively solitary existence you've lived in recent years,' he told her softly. 'And to a man like Andracas you would be a tremendous challenge.'

'I'm not interested,' she dismissed.

'I wasn't interested in selling either,' he said ruefully. 'But he damn nearly got me. I don't want to interfere in your life, Ellie, I just don't want you hurt again.'

'I know that,' she touched his arm gratefully. 'And I can assure you, I won't be.'

Which was easy to say, but she still remembered the awareness she had felt very briefly this morning. It had been a definite sexual awareness, one she had thought never to feel again, one she didn't want to feel again. Her father was right, Nick was a very dangerous man.

He was also waiting for her when she got back to her apartment later that afternoon! And from the look of him he had been waiting some time.

'I know, I know,' he held up his hands defensively as he climbed out of the car and came towards her. 'You don't want to see me here again. But I thought I should let you know that I tracked down the reporter that was here this morning. I've been waiting over an hour,' he cajoled.

Her eyes widened that he had taken the trouble to look for the other man after telling her it wasn't worth it. 'You had better come upstairs.'

'Don't worry,' Nick taunted at her lack of enthusiasm for the idea. 'He isn't here now, lurking behind a car or something.'

She gave him a scathing glance. 'You had better come up anyway.'

He was still wearing the same clothes he had had on that morning, the shirt now a little damp against his back in the heat of the day. Danielle felt the frisson of awareness down her spine once again.

She faced him across the room once they had entered her apartment. 'What did the reporter say?'

Nick had sprawled himself in one of her armchairs, looking relaxed and at home. 'He works freelance, and had already sold the story and photograph by the time I found him,' he grimaced.

Danielle paled a little. 'Do you have any idea what the article will say?'

He shrugged. 'The usual trash, I would imagine.'

She gave a deep sigh. 'Thank you for taking the time to let me know,' she said dully.

'Hey, look, I really am sorry,' he sat forward in the chair. 'I offered to buy the story off him myself, but I was just too late. And the newspaper, as you can imagine, just didn't want to know.'

'Which one is it?'

He named one of the more gossipy daily newspapers. 'They'll be printing it tomorrow,' he revealed reluctantly as he saw how upset she was.

She nodded. 'Thank you for trying, anyway.'

He shrugged. 'Don't thank me. I couldn't do a thing, except probably make things worse, as I warned you it would. I don't suppose you feel like making me a sandwich, do you?' he looked at her encouragingly. 'I didn't have time for lunch running around after the reporter.'

The logic in her told her to say no, to tell him to go to his own home and get something to eat. And yet he
had
chased around London trying to stop the reporter selling his story. A sandwich wasn't a high price to pay for that, even if he hadn't succeeded.
'I
'l
l get you something,' she moved towards the kitchen, glancing back to find him immersed in the Sunday newspaper.

He looked so completely at home in her lounge, as if he spent a lot of his time there. She was mad to have agreed to getting him something to eat!

In the end she shared the chicken salad with him that she had meant for her own dinner, bread something she rarely bought, which meant she couldn't make him a sandwich. It was very unnerving sitting down to eat with him, gave a normality to their relationship that she would rather hadn't been there. The way they had met in the past, Nick picking her up at a party and then casually sleeping with her was how she wanted to think of him; eating dinner together made Nick seem human, when she knew he was inhuman.

'You can even make coffee,' he appreciatively drank the last of his creamless sugarless brew. 'You're a woman of many talents, Danielle Smith,' he smiled at her, a warmly intimate smile.

'Miss McDonald doesn't cook?'

'I
never asked,' he derided. 'But I know my ex-wife couldn't even open a can.'

It was the first time she had heard him refer to Beverley since the night seven years ago when he had spoken of her so bitterly. He didn't seem bitter now.

'Can you?' she derided.

He looked scandalised at the question. 'I'm Greek, remember?' he mocked. 'Mama made sure all her children could cook—and not out of a can either.'

'How many children are there?' she was curious in spite of herself.

'Six,' he grinned at her wide-eyed look. 'Five girls, and only one boy.'

Her mouth quirked with humour. 'Which means you were a spoilt little boy too.'

'Too?'

'You're definitely a spoilt big boy,' she mocked.

Nick chuckled softly. 'Mama didn't believe in spoiling children, I had to do my share of the chores. Although with so many of us it wasn't too bad.'

She turned away, realising how easily she was succumbing to his charm. 'I'm an only child. I wouldn't know.'

'That's a pity. For you, I mean.'

'What you don't have you never missed,' she shrugged. 'You have no children of your own?' she asked the question, but she already knew the answer. He and Beverley had been childless.

His mouth firmed. 'I have dozens of nieces and nephews, ranging from all ages.'

'I can imagine you have, but it isn't the same as children of your own, is it?'

He shrugged. 'I doubt I would make a very good father, anyway. You could hardly have a spoilt father
and
a spoilt child,' he said self-derisively. 'Is there any more coffee?' he abruptly changed the subject.

Danielle moved to get it for him, deep in thought as she went into the kitchen. He spoke so dismissively about children of his own, and yet she sensed a steel edge beneath the lightness of his voice, a pain he didn't want to talk about. And she disagreed with him about the sort of father he would make, knew he would be firm but loving with his children, as most Greek men were.

He was standing over by the window when she came back into the lounge, the broadness of his back a tautly rigid line. As she watched him, Nick unaware of her presence for the moment, he ran a weary hand around the back of his nape.

'Your coffee,' she broke the moment of intimacy, not wanting to feel any compassion for a man who had never felt any for anyone else, who lived his life to suit himself and didn't give a damn about others. 'And then I'm afraid you'll have to go,' she told him stiltedly. 'I intend working this evening.'

'It's all right, Danielle,' his mouth twisted into the facsimile of a smile. 'I won't overstay my welcome.'