hand stilled, holding the kettle in mid-air as she poured boiling water into her mug.
‘I thought we were going to not see each other during the campaign—’
‘Screw it.’ He dragged his hand through his hair and took two steps, which constituted pacing in the tiny kitchenette. ‘We need to get this thing out of our systems, and staying apart isn’t helping, so let’s go for it.’
‘Well, when you put it like that, how can a girl refuse?’ She topped off her mug and placed the kettle on its stand.
He winced. ‘Sorry, that didn’t come out right.’
‘I get it.’ She handed him his coffee. ‘We’re going a little stir crazy. I guess a weekend away can’t hurt.’
‘Great. I’ll set it up—e-mail you the details.’
She nodded, cradling her mug, staring at him with wide eyes over the top of it.
He couldn’t read the expression in those rich blue depths, but if she was half as shell-shocked as him he couldn’t blame her.
Hopefully this impulsive weekend away would ease this clamouring attraction between them once and for all. And then he could concentrate on more important things—like putting his plans into action.
‘What’s got you in a tizz?’ Ruby held out an arm, effectively blocking Sapphie’s exit from her workshop.
‘Nothing,’ she said, wishing she hadn’t snapped at her sister. It was a sure-fire sign something was going on, considering she’d been nothing but the epitome of calm since Tenang.
Before Patrick showed up, that was.
Ruby pointed to a spare stool next to her workbench. ‘Sit. Spill.’
Sapphie shrugged, pretending she didn’t have a care in the world, when all she could think about was getting naked with Patrick face to face. Or other bits to other bits, more precisely.
‘I’m getting angsty about the show.’
Ruby frowned. ‘I thought you weren’t allowed to get ang-sty? Part of your new relaxation routine?’
‘There’s only so far yoga can take you, Rubes.’
Her sister’s astute gaze swept over her. ‘This isn’t about work, is it?’
‘’Course it is—’
‘Why don’t you just bonk him and get it out of your system, already? You’ll feel a lot better for it. Trust me.’
Sapphie screwed up her nose. ‘Euw! Please don’t elaborate on how you and Jax managed to brainstorm that auction.’
Her sister’s smug grin reeked of sin. Half her luck.
Ruby laid down her pliers, pushed her loupe out of the way and crossed her arms.
‘You’ve been working like a maniac this last week. Why don’t you take the weekend off? Call Patrick? Get together—’
‘He’s taking me away for the weekend,’ she blurted, unable to keep it a secret any longer.
She’d had no intention of telling Ruby anything, expecting to be teased, interrogated or both for the next millennium, but with her departure to destination unknown creeping ever closer Sapphie had to say something for no other reason than articulating made it real.
Ruby clapped. ‘Way to go, Saph.’ She wiggled her eyebrows. ‘Dirty weekend away, huh?’
Sapphie’s first instinct was to say It’s not like that, but after withholding the promise she’d made to their mum on her deathbed and the resultant fallout she’d vowed never to keep the truth from her sister again.
Which meant full disclosure. Within reason.
‘I haven’t been out with anyone in a while, he seems keen, so it’s a bit of harmless fun.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Ruby nodded, her sly grin particularly worrying. ‘So it’s just a fling, right? Nothing serious?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Then why are you so flustered?’
‘I’m not,’ Sapphie said, making a mockery of her declaration by edging backwards and tripping over a crate.
Ruby chuckled. ‘I’ve never seen you this worked up over a guy before. It’s cute.’
‘Cute is puppies and newborns. Cute is not the relationship I have with Patrick.’
‘Oh? Then what would you call it?’
Raunchy. Decadent. Naughty.
Very, very naughty.
Images of what they’d done in her bathroom and the boardroom and via Skype in her bedroom earlier this week flashed across her memory and heat touched her cheeks.
Ruby held up her hands. ‘Never mind. Spare me the details. I can see how good it is written all over your face.’ She slugged her on the arm. ‘Proud of you.’
At least that made one of them. Sapphie wasn’t entirely proud of using Patrick—for that was exactly what she was doing. He wasn’t her type, and she had no intention of continuing this dalliance once their work together on Fashion Week ended, so using him didn’t sit well.
The fact he seemed more than happy to use her back was a moot point.
‘Stop thinking so hard. You’ll get frown lines.’ Ruby swiped a finger between her brows. ‘There’s nothing to overanalyse here, sis. Mutual gratification. Fling. Whatever you want to call it—just enjoy.’
She fully intended to. As for what happened after? She’d cross that mannequin when she came to it.
‘Where are you taking her?’ Serge propped himself on the end of Patrick’s desk, the epitome of male chic in one of Fourde’s five-grand-a-pop suits.
‘What’s it to you?’ Patrick practically snarled, and instantly regretted it. It wasn’t Serge’s fault a week’s worth of cold showers and iceberg documentaries hadn’t taken the edge off. Throw in the lack of sleep from working all hours to distract himself, and he was a grouch.
‘Come on, mate, we’ve always discussed our women in the past.’
He’d deliberately shut the door on his past. And Sapphire was no ordinary woman.
He didn’t want to discuss her with Serge, didn’t want to hear the usual ribald jokes and innuendo. Sapphire deserved better than that, and the last thing he needed as Fashion Week crept closer was to lose his right-hand man because he’d punched him in the mouth.
Which led to the question: why did he feel so strongly about this? About her? He had a job to do in Melbourne: make Australia and the world sit up and take notice of Fourde Fash-ion’s latest branch before he moved on
