so? Do you abandon the fuchsia headband for a schoolmarm’s bun and a riding crop?’ It was possible. Judging by the shop they’d just raided, anything was possible. Ruby’s golden eyes narrowed. Damon offered up his own disarming smile. ‘I can see that working for you.’
‘I’m glad we went shopping together,’ she murmured. ‘You’ve saved me from fantasising about you later.’
‘Because I’m hard to buy for? Or because I’m homeless.’
‘Neither. There’s something else about you that makes you a dismal relationship choice, and once again I can credit my recently departed father for giving me a heads up.’
‘Sounds ominous.’
‘It is. It’s about deception and disguise and people who deliberately portray themselves as something they’re not. You make a charming wastrel, by the way. I’m very impressed. But that’s not what you are.’
‘So what am I?’ he asked quietly.
‘Far smarter than you’re letting on, for starters,’ she offered bluntly. ‘Beautifully evasive when it comes to talking about your work, your needs and your lifestyle choices. An old hand, I surmise, at keeping whatever passes for the real you completely hidden from view. You’re not feckless, Damon. You’re a liar.’
IT REALLY wasn’t supposed to work like this, thought Damon grimly. Finally he’d encountered a woman who saw more of him than most—and granted, she had the benefit of working for his father and therefore knowing more of his family background than most women did at first glance—but still …
Wasn’t she supposed to like what she saw of the real Damon West? Admire his complexity and want to know more, not label him a liar and a bad relationship bet along with it.
‘Everybody lies, Ruby,’ he protested carefully, and watched her lips twist into a bitter smile.
‘Not everybody, Damon. Not to the extent that you do. Few people misrepresent themselves the way you do. Only those with something to hide. Con men, thieves, spooks. Shadow people. The ones you can never know because they never let you, and the only thing you can count on is that you’ll wake up one day and they’ll be gone. Who are you really, Damon? What is it that you do? Are you a money tracker? Is that why your father respects you? Are you here looking for a lead on my father? Because I’ve already told you, I don’t know where he is.’
‘I’m not a money tracker.’
‘Then what are you? Special intelligence service like your brother and sister? What? I’m being as forthright as I know how to be. Just tell me why you’re here and what you need from me. If I have it, it’s yours. No seduction required. No more pretty lies. I am so sick of lies.’
Her eyes were like bruises and they got to him more than he cared to admit.
‘I’m not SIS, and I swear—on my father’s honour—that I’m not hunting your father, or the money he stole, or anything else related to him or to you. Look at me,’ he commanded softly and waited until she did. ‘I’m here for Christmas with my family, that’s all. No hidden agenda, Ruby. None.’
‘Oh, hell,’ she murmured, and looked around the shopping centre, blinking fast as if holding back tears. ‘I’m sorry. I thought …
It felt …’
‘Like you were being played. You were, but not with nefarious intent.’ She’d wanted the truth from him and he gave her what he could. ‘I thought you could handle yourself. I thought you could handle me. Maybe I’m not all I seem to be, I’ll give you that. Maybe I’m not the kind of man Ruby Maguire needs to have around her right now. I’ll give you that too. I didn’t know that earlier. Now I do. No more playing with Ruby, see?’ He took a careful step back to emphasise his words. ‘No harm done.’
‘I’m sorry, I … You must think I’m a paranoid nutter,’ she muttered, setting her shopping bags down so she could slide her headband off, shake her curls free and put it back on again. Busywork for her hands while she looked anywhere but at him.
‘It’s not wrong to be careful of other people, Ruby. I would be too, were I in your position.’ He let her collect her composure. He looked at the nearest retail store, seeking distraction and finding it. ‘I’m thinking I might need some casual wear,’ he offered. ‘As a Christmas gift from my father to me.
They sell that kind of menswear around here, right?’
‘Right,’ she said and took a deep breath.
‘Can we bypass the polo shirts though?’
‘Good call,’ she murmured. ‘I’m betting upscale grunge is far more you. I’m thinking jeans to start with and we’ll improvise from there. How are you off for underclothes?’ She rallied fast, did Ruby Maguire, and Damon’s admiration for her rose a notch.
‘Do they have a brand name plastered all over them?’
‘Only on the band.’
‘In that case, I don’t want any. I prefer my underwear anonymous.’
‘Of course you do,’ she murmured soothingly. ‘I should have guessed. Would you like any help with your clothing selection, or shall I just wait?’
‘I want your help. Whatever it was you did in the other store, do that,’ he added. ‘Only faster.’
Half an hour later Ruby had Damon outfitted in clothes that might even find their way into his travel bag, and relative amicability had been restored. Ruby had more shopping to do but none that required Damon’s assistance.
Damon had more shopping to do too, and he definitely didn’t need assistance. Ruby had agreed to drop him off at the Golden Computer Shopping Centre in Kowloon. Damon would find his own way back to the apartment. Too easy.
‘Mind the scams,’ she said as they loaded up her car with his father’s purchases.
‘I shall enjoy them immensely,’ he murmured and she shot him a perplexed glance. ‘I’m only browsing, Ruby. Seeing what’s new and improved or old and abused. I do it every time I come to Hong Kong.’
‘So … you really do work with computers?’
Damon nodded. Not a lie, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. Ruby headed for the driver’s seat. Damon to the passenger side.
‘Is there any particular type of food or beverage you’d like me to stock the apartment with?’ she asked as they filled the car with shopping bags and then themselves. ‘Your favourites? Your sisters’ favourites?’
‘Lena likes a good Sauvignon Blanc, Poppy loves lychees and I’m a sucker for crispy duck in pancake pockets with all the trimmings. No one’s all that keen on a-thou-sand-year-old eggs, shark-fin soup, turtle jelly, or chicken-feet anything.’
‘Not a problem. I’ll steer clear of the swallow’s nest tonics and imported Japanese blowfish too. And, Damon?’
The
