she was still the young girl she’d been when he’d first met her, he was mistaken. She’d grown up. She wasn’t going to roll over and accept anything at face value, especially this.
She knew what he was like, knew what games he liked to amuse himself with, knew how much he enjoyed getting people to roll over on their previous decisions and come round to his way of thinking.
He wasn’t going to get that sort of satisfaction from her, not after everything she’d been through.
If Nick Coburn wanted to play, fine. She had a few games of her own!
Nick flicked another page in the deposition, glancing at the phone again. Any minute now and she’d call him and say yes. He couldn’t help but smile.
Her place would look like the Botanical Gardens by now. He couldn’t help but smile. If she had been in any doubt that he was serious about his invitation to her, she wouldn’t be now.
He looked at the clock on the wall. Hell, she was stubborn. She’d lasted longer than he’d first thought she would. How many flowers did a girl need to conclude he was seriously interested in taking her out?
Nick would do whatever it took. Money was not an issue. He felt a swell of satisfaction. Just to think it made him taste his sweet success. He’d done what his father, and his brother, hadn’t.
Marrying his mother at twenty-two had, as far as his father was concerned, put paid to his aspirations of becoming a lawyer. He said it had doused his energy and his drive, sucking away his commitment to going back to school.
Nick knew his father had struggled to make enough for their family to get by, sometimes doing two shifts at the factory.
Six children was a bit much. With all the bills, clothing and then feeding them all, his parents barely managed most of the time.
Nick Coburn didn’t want that for himself. No way. And neither did his father. He wanted his sons to achieve what he hadn’t.
He toyed with the pens on his desk. He’d seen his father put all his energy behind his older brother, Robert, encouraging him through school, cheering him on in his achievements at university and urging him to greater career aspirations.
Nick had seen his father shake his head at his brother’s lack of drive. Heard his criticisms of him when Robert had got all serious over a woman. And seen him cry at Robert’s wedding.
Nick had never seen his father cry. It hadn’t felt good. It had felt like a giant hammer had slammed the air out of his lungs.
He didn’t want to feel like that again. Ever. He was going to get where he was going—come hell or high water. Nothing was going to stop him.
He’d make his father’s dream come true for at least one of his sons before he left this world.
A knock sounded. His office door opened and his secretary came in quietly, carrying a steaming cup of coffee. She hovered next to his desk.
He could smell the heady brew. ‘Thanks, Liz.’ He took the cup from the greying woman. ‘Any news?’
Liz pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. ‘I just heard that there’s been a spate of anonymous deliveries of flowers to hospitals, to nursing homes, and to medical clinics all over the city.’
Nick coughed, splattering coffee over the desk.
‘Oh, dear.’ She rushed out of the door and was back again, her hands full of tissues and a box of them under her arm. She mopped up the coffee.
Nick pulled a handful of tissues from the box and dabbed the documents in front of him, trying to clear his throat.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
‘Fine.’ He hadn’t expected that! He fought a smile. Skye was something else. There wasn’t an atom in his body that doubted that the flowers were his.
Liz walked to the door. ‘Some people have money to burn.’
‘Yes, well. Thanks, Liz.’ He tossed the clump of sodden tissues into his bin. ‘But I was actually referring to what you may have heard around the office about the promotion.’
‘Oh. Nothing yet, sir. They say they’re going to meet early next week to discuss who’ll make senior partner.’
‘Okay.’
She turned at the door, her face creasing as her smile widened. ‘It was a lovely gesture, don’t you think? The flowers. It would have put a lot of smiles on a lot of faces.’
‘Yes.’ Nick rubbed his jaw. Skye would be smiling all right. The vixen. She was meant to be ringing him with her ‘yes’, thanking him profusely for his incredibly romantic gesture of sending so many flowers to her, not playing philanthropist.
He stared at the work in front of him—it could wait a few minutes. What was her problem? It was only dinner…
He wrenched open his top drawer, pulling out his address book. She wanted to play hard to get? Wanted to torture him some more with what he couldn’t have?
He flicked the book to the right page. Only this time he wasn’t prepared to walk away.
He punched the numbers on the phone. But first, he needed all the facts.
CHAPTER SIX
‘I HAVE good news and maybe not so good news.’
Skye looked up from the prices she’d got from the caterers for the Macdonald wedding. She had hoped to get more than a few minutes work in before anyone realised she was back from lunch. ‘Riana?’
Riana smiled, swinging her arms wide. ‘The good news is the flowers have stopped coming…and the design for Tara’s gown is going to be the best one yet. I’ve made the bodice form-fitting, strapless, with the most gorgeous cut around her cleavage—she has very nicely shaped breasts, you know. And over the fabric on her breasts I’m putting the finest pearl lace and, flowing down around her ribs, beaded drops that look like delicate icicles, so she looks like she’s a ballerina princess, only with a long, flowing gown. And I’m putting pearl beads on some of the panels on the gown too and—’
‘Riana!’ Skye looked up from the file on her desk. Her office was back to the way it had been, except for the one large bouquet of yellow roses she’d kept, for old time’s sake.
‘Okay. I’ll stop rambling. But isn’t it fabulous that the flowers have stopped?’
She nodded slowly. ‘Great.’
‘You don’t sound thrilled.’
Skye forced a smile. ‘I’m surprised they stopped so soon.’ It wasn’t like Nick to concede defeat.
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