‘Well, it wasn’t like you were going to bring a date.’ Ethan said, still not releasing Nadia from the inappropriate clinch.
‘We didn’t expect you to either,’ Polly snapped back. It took five crucifying silent seconds for her to realise the her gaffe before she blustered with a sheepish smile, ‘Of course it’s wonderful you could be here, Nadia. You have no idea how thrilled were are to meet you.’
Nadia kept digging her fingers into his shirt, trying to push him away, but the man-mountain wasn’t moving. She could feel the slow, deep rise and fall of his chest against her cheek—completely tantalising and scattering her focus. ‘Oh, thank you so much,’ she babbled to cover her confusion and embarrassment. ‘I’m so sorry to be here unexpectedly. I hope it’s no trouble. I really don’t want to intrude …’ She stumbled over the words and felt her flush deepening. ‘I can—’
‘Come right in.’ Ethan suddenly moved, turning and pushing her slightly ahead of him with firm hands on her upper arms.
The three women stepped back into the house. Nadia walked past them and kept walking to the nearest corner—quite a distance in the stunning large atrium she found herself in. Ethan kept pace.
‘I’m not staying here,’ she hissed, facing him.
‘You have to now.’ He grinned down at her, looking too relaxed all of a sudden. ‘This way you can get to know more about me—my family and my history and all those fascinating, irrelevant things women want to know. I’m sure my sisters would love to fill you in on a few facts.’
Oh, so this was his way of showing her more about himself? She shook her head—he was unbelievable, and now she was stuck here, with no wheels to get away. Of course her curiosity was ravenous … and he knew it.
From the stunned look on his mother’s and his sisters’ faces she figured him bringing a date wasn’t an everyday occurrence. But she knew not to read any significance into it—this was all about their little war.
‘This is so impolite,’ she told him, hoping for a last minute escape.
‘There was me thinking you were an expert at being impolite.’
She swallowed that, then fired right back. ‘You were the one keeping us in that shocking clinch on the step.’
His grin broadened back to wicked. ‘It would have been much more of a shock if I’d let you go and they’d seen how hard I was.’
Nadia flushed, both mortified and melting again. ‘You really think it’s okay for me to be here?’ She gazed up at his laughing façade and saw the shadows lurking in the back of them.
‘As long as you don’t get too close to me again while there are people around,’ he murmured.
‘There’s a little service at the church down the road in a few minutes, and then it’s back here for afternoon tea on the lawn.’ Polly crossed the atrium and interrupted them.
‘Oh.’ Nadia smiled through her breathlessness. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
Ethan laughed. ‘Jess and Polly have this thing planned with military precision. You can just be decorative, like me. Is he here?’ That last to his sister.
Polly nodded with a helpless sort of shrug. ‘But alone.’
Nadia didn’t miss the look that flashed between the two of them. Who were they talking about?
‘Hey, I haven’t had a chance to say congratulations on the latest league tables,’ Polly added suddenly. ‘Most billable hours, biggest revenue earner in the year to date. Way to—’
‘Don’t try to impress her, Polly,’ Ethan interrupted drily. ‘She sees through to my “internetorious” nature.’
Polly’s eyes widened and she looked flustered. ‘I wasn’t thinking of Nadia. I was thinking you should tell him.’
Ethan just grunted.
Polly sighed and turned the sheepish smile on Nadia again. ‘Come on, we’d better get going.’
The church was only a few minutes away, and all the guests walked in a festive procession. Nadia walked near the front, with Ethan still keeping a courteous hand at her back. She wished he wouldn’t. It made her skin there sing—while the rest of her yearned for more of his touch. Deep in her belly the urge for payback burned, but increasingly she doubted she had the skill to play these games with Ethan. She didn’t really know the rules.
To keep herself on track she focused on watching the little girl at the very front, the one all dressed up in a pretty pink confection and bouncing around as if she was on a sugar high.
‘That’s Isabella, Jess’s eldest.’ So Ethan was watching her too.
It seemed everyone else was watching them. As they stood circling the font during the service, she caught several people looking at her and at Ethan, and at the way he now held her hand tightly—not from affection, but so she couldn’t inch away from where he stood too close. Near the back of the group there was a gaggle of beautiful women in beautiful dresses, and they all had hungry features when they looked at Ethan. Even those women obviously in a couple glanced at them too often, curiosity bright in their eyes. Nadia felt more midget-like than ever, and dreaded the tea party to follow. She suspected she was in for some unsubtle grilling. And she was right.
‘Meet Nadia.’
Over and over again he introduced her, never once applying any description to her name—no my date, Nadia, no my friend, Nadia, no bitch queen, Nadia—and of course no one there was impolite enough to ask. Yes, he was a master at preserving the mystery. She met uncles, aunts, cousins, family friends, an endless stream of people involved in Ethan’s life. And she was too acutely aware of his presence at her side to be able to learn anything much.
‘I’ll get you another drink,’ he murmured, relieving her of her empty champagne glass. ‘We’ll switch to lemonade now, huh? Wouldn’t want you getting too hot from the wine.’
She ignored the wicked look he threw her, too nervous about being left alone to face questions to be able to rise to the banter. She turned towards the garden, hoping to avoid everyone, and followed a path between billowing roses, reaching out to touch some of the soft, perfect petals.
‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’
Nadia glanced up. From the other side of a crimson rose-laden bush, an older man held out a glass of champagne to her. To her surprise she recognised the smooth voice—but not his face. She took the glass he offered with a slight smile and rummaged round her useless mind. ‘Yes, they are.’
‘I like that one best—Grüss an Tepliz.’ He pointed to the red ones and added with a smile. ‘My name’s Matthew.’
Of course, she had it now—Matthew Rush. He was a veteran political correspondent. She’d heard him do hundreds of interviews on the radio in the morning, when her parents had been listening as they’d got ready for work. She’d been “shushed” so many times for talking during this guy’s reports. Matthew Rush—so in what way was he related to Ethan?
‘I’m
