were paid to be.
Cally closed her eyes against her reflection in the mirror.
Not going there.
Instead she thought of her father. He’d been loving and warm and kind and had made the fact that her mother hadn’t wanted her merely a niggle in her heart, not an aching tear. But he’d died and Cally had been left alone—and mother and daughter had been forced upon each other. Alicia the supermodel hadn’t been prepared for the plump frump that had been her pre-pubescent daughter. Cally had tried, she’d really tried. But at five feet two she was never going to live up to her mother’s five-foot-eleven grace and beauty and expectations. Under her roof, she’d been more alone than ever. And then there’d been Luc.
Cally frowned at the way her thoughts had come full circle. Then the music and noise coming from the bar increased in volume. The show was back on. Breathing a sigh of relief, she knew she could escape now. She pulled open the heavy door and walked out from the bathroom. And there, standing right in front of her, blocking her path, was her catch.
His hands rested on his lean hips, pushing his jacket back and revealing the white business shirt, emphasising the broad shoulders and the ‘I’m in charge’ air. What was it about men in suits? He looked authoritative, aggressive and ready for action. For a long moment he looked her up and down. She was doing the same to him but trying to be a whole lot more subtle about it, and as she tried not to slide into a heap she stiffened—standing straighter than a steel pipe.
Finally he spoke.
‘When and where do you want me?’
CHAPTER TWO
NATURALLY ‘here and now’ was the first reply to spring to mind. Naturally Cally bit her tongue and looked anywhere but at him. She cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘This weekend. You. Me. What do you want me to do for you?’ He was being deliberately provocative—surely?
She cleared her throat again. Got her larynx working. ‘This was a mistake. My friend was doing the bidding. Yes, I paid the money, but you can go. Your weekend’s free.’
‘But I’m yours this weekend.’
She tried to smile politely but knew it was an abysmal effort. ‘Look, that’s really nice. But you don’t have to take this that seriously. I just wanted to donate some money on the quiet, my friend thought it would be fun to bid. So.’ She shrugged. ‘There you go. You don’t have to do the man-power bit.’ She snuck a look at him then and immediately regretted it. Mr Tall, Dark and Determined stood over her and she was melting.
‘She said you’d do this—try to get rid of me. She said I wasn’t to let you and that if I wasn’t with you for the weekend she’d tell the organisers and the money wouldn’t go to charity.’
Cally rolled her eyes. ‘As if they’d send my cheque back—they don’t care what happens now. They have the money. That was the point.’
‘I made a promise. I always deliver on my promises.’
Why wouldn’t he go away? Why was he so insistent on doing this when it had been so apparent she’d ticked him off? But then, maybe that was why. ‘Look, if you have to do something, go and clean my friend’s car.’
‘She said she doesn’t have a car and you know it. She said it’s your car that needs a clean.’
Her irritation and discomfort started to leak through her fragile façade. ‘I’m quite sure you’ve got better things to be doing with your time this weekend.’ He’d have plenty of fish to fry—container-loads, in fact. Frustration forced her into unaccustomed rudeness—again. Without even a nod for goodbye she turned and started walking.
He didn’t block her, rather kept pace every step of the way to the door, shielding her from the audience behind him.
‘What are you doing?’ she muttered.
‘Sticking with you until you figure out my first task.’
She waited until they’d got outside and along the footpath away from the bar. ‘This is ridiculous. You can go.’
‘I never shirk my responsibilities.’ He smiled then. One of those smiles designed to garner the acquiescence of anything and anyone in its path. But she also saw steel in his eyes. It didn’t pay to look too hard into their sea-green depths. They’d have her saying yes faster than any of his other, many, draw cards. His determination to get her to say it, was palpable.
She stopped walking. Knowing she was never going to get rid of him until he’d won, she’d let him have this small victory. She opened her bag and found her pen and notebook. She wrote her address on it.
‘Fine. Be here at nine tomorrow morning. You can wash my car.’ Ultimately she’d be the winner. He could clean her car. But that was it.
He took the paper. Carefully folded it and put it in his breast pocket. His smile was small but satisfied. Genuine this time and more attractive than any he’d bestowed on the audience. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
* * *
Blake pressed the buzzer right on eight fifty-eight a.m. The door opened in less than a minute. She wore loose linen trousers and a plain shirt and looked as if she’d been up for hours. On a Saturday morning you’d have thought a woman like this would be lying in and being loved. But he was stupidly glad she wasn’t. He felt tight inside as adrenalin surged through him. Round one was about to begin. His desire to defrost this ice queen was motivation to win.
He watched her gaze skitter over him, saw pink lightly colour her pale cheeks.
She still wouldn’t quite look up into his face. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name last night.
‘Blake McKay.’
‘Pleasure to meet you, Blake. I’m sorry if I was unappreciative of your determination to see this through. My name is Cally Sinclair.’ Her automatic politeness irked him. It was so obvious she didn’t particularly want him there, and yet she couldn’t quite bring herself to say it. Ordinarily Blake preferred plain speaking. But he could play it her way for now.
‘Enchanted, Cally.’ He reached out and took her hand. The pleasure, at this point, was all his. But he was determined to have her appreciative in no time. The fact was, she fascinated him. He wanted to see her eyes go from disapproving to desirous. He wanted her to admit to the attraction that was making his heart race as he touched her.
She snatched her hand back. Not so politely. ‘I’ve put my car on the drive for you. The garage is open. You’ll find anything you need in there. Once you’re done, you can go.’
Really? He had no intention of leaving after a half-hour car polish. What this stuck-up society miss needed was a good, hard—he pulled back his flare of anger.
‘Damn expensive carwash.’
She ran another eye over his tee shirt and jeans. ‘Feel free to hose off the drive after.’
The door shut in his face. So much for the polite act.
Little minx.
He
