summer sun unless she was slathered in sunscreen.
But she had inherited her parents’ love of dancing. Smiling, she realised one foot was tapping unconsciously. Using her savings to fly twelve thousand miles as a surprise had been an inspired decision, even if it had cleaned out her bank account. When she’d knocked on their hotel door the previous day her mother had fought back tears and her father had swallowed.
Siena glanced at a woman dressed with such superb taste she shone like a gem even in that gathering of the rich and the famous. Beside her was a notorious and inordinately handsome actor.
The skin between her shoulder-blades tightened. Refusing to turn, she kept her eyes on the dance floor while an odd, primitive apprehension throbbed through her.
From behind her a deep male voice said, “Five years ago you’d have turned to see who was watching you.”
Nick.
Deep within her something fierce and bewildering leapt into existence. No, was reborn …
Disconcerted, she focused on the diamond Adrian had given her, and squelched the automatic urge to swivel around. “Five years is a long time, Nick.”
Only then did she brace herself and turn to look up into his lean, handsome face. His brows lifted, one slightly higher than the other, as her wary gaze clashed with the hard, dense green of his eyes, exactly the burnished, many-layered colour of pounamu, the greenstone prized by both ancient Maori and modern New Zealanders.
Beautiful eyes, she’d thought as an adolescent—and far too perceptive, especially when they were half-screened by thick, long lashes. Once she’d been unable to meet his gaze without a secret inner thrill. The same foolish tension sawed at her nerves now.
“But you still know when someone’s watching you,” Nick drawled.
“Sometimes,” she evaded, a shiver scudding the length of her spine. Unbidden, wildly unsettling memories flooded her brain with disturbing, erotic images. Five years previously she’d lived for a few short weeks in a fantasy world, only to have it all crash down on her in a maelstrom of shattered hopes. Since then she’d made sure she hadn’t met him again.
“Do sit down, Nick—you make me feel like a hobbit confronted by an elf.” Her words came too quickly, almost tumbling out.
Nicholas Grenville was overpowering in every way. Superbly tailored evening clothes emphasised powerful shoulders and long legs, the white shirt contrasting with his coppery tan and black hair and those compelling eyes. But what made him stand out in this assembly of well-dressed, sophisticated men was an unconscious air of command, of hard-edged, formidable authority.
He lowered himself into the chair her father had vacated and enquired, “What are you doing in London? Your parents didn’t say they were expecting you.”
“They weren’t,” she told him, still struggling for composure. “I surprised them by arriving yesterday out of the blue.”
“Are you on holiday?”
“No,” she said crisply. “I left my job.”
His brows were raised again. For once, she thought, startled by her satisfaction at the thought, she’d surprised him.
“Why? I thought you were happily settled managing some plant shop.”
Her parents must have told him, and Nick would have filed the information away in that computer brain of his.
Furious and alarmed by the swift surge of warmth that thought aroused, she said, “It wasn’t only a plant shop; I managed quite a big nursery as well.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Very much.”
Nick leaned back in his chair and surveyed her. Five years had made quite a difference; a slender blue dress skimmed her body, subtly hinting at tantalising curves beneath, and she’d highlighted the incredible blue of her eyes and her silky, translucent skin with a skilful use of cosmetics. She hadn’t quite managed to tame her tumble of ebony curls, and the gaze that met his was reserved, but he discerned a familiar hint of challenge in both eyes and attitude.
Ruthlessly he subdued his body’s spontaneous and exasperating response. “So why did you leave?”
She hesitated, then lifted her small square chin in a defiant movement he recognised. “The business was sold, and unfortunately the new owner decided I’d be perfect as a nice little bit on the side.”
Gripped by cold, uncompromising anger, Nick forced himself to control it. “And were you?”
Lips tightening, she lifted her hand and splayed the fingers to reveal an engagement ring. “Not interested. But it made for a difficult situation, so I left.”
Whatever he’d expected, it hadn’t been the sight of that ring. His anger mutated into an emotion he didn’t recognise, one he refused to face. He should be—he was—pleased she’d fallen in love. Presumably with someone who valued her, a man she could trust—unlike the one who’d taken her virginity and then walked out on her.
That ring and all it implied should go some way to easing his guilt.
It didn’t.
It took most of his iron self-control to say curtly, “With a handsome redundancy payment, I hope.”
“Absolutely.” She beamed at him, a smile that had always meant mischief. “I gave it to a charity for abused women. In his name. They were terribly grateful and no doubt will contact him regularly asking for further donations.”
Nick’s smile showed his teeth. “A nice little revenge—and typical of you. I assume you had a contract?”
“A contract I broke.”
“For reasons that could have seen your boss up before the employment court,” he said uncompromisingly. “What did your fiancé think of that?”
Siena’s eyes widened. Adrian had been angry about the situation, but he’d accepted her handling of it. “He was fine.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as defensive as she felt.
Apart from a subtle narrowing of those coolly watchful eyes Nick’s expression didn’t change. “A rather muted response, surely?”
For him it would have been; even as an adolescent he’d been protective towards two small girls.
But Adrian was nothing like Nick. Adrian would never make love to her as though she was the only woman in the world, then leave the next morning without a word of explanation beyond a few curt phrases of apology for getting carried away.
Adrian wouldn’t break her heart.
“Not everyone has your killer instinct,” she told Nick with a taut smile. “Adrian knows I can deal with my own problems.”
Nick leaned back in his chair and let his gaze rest a moment on her ring finger. Siena had to repress a weird instinct to hide it protectively under the table.
Relentlessly he demanded, “So you walked out of a situation
