good-looking men was a novelty. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea coming on this trip after all.
All three men turned heads in the restaurant, making her the object of envy from the waitresses and plenty of the guests besides, but even though all were good-looking there was no argument in Philly’s mind as to just which man dominated the proceedings. The brothers were ultrafit and no weaklings, yet Damien, all dark brooding looks and latent power inherent in his every move, dwarfed them with his sheer presence.
Her eyes settled on him now as he quietly allowed the brothers full rein at being hosts. Only the scowl between his dark brows betrayed him. No doubt he’d be thinking about the meetings to come, wheels spinning as he developed plans and devised tactics to close the deal.
He turned suddenly and snagged her eyes with a look that sparked and flared and she jerked her head away sharply, feeling caught out, not understanding the sudden aggression in his eyes and trying to focus back on the conversation with a face that bore the heat from his gaze.
‘Tell me about your name.’ Stuart Murchison leaned closer, clearly oblivious to her discomfiture, one arm at the back of her chair, his body turned to hers, his other hand swirling what was left of his glass of premium Hunter Valley shiraz. ‘Philly. That’s so unusual. There must be a story behind it.’
Damien bristled as he glared at Stuart’s back. Okay, so the dinner had gone well, the whole day had gone well, and with a pinch of luck tomorrow Palmcorp would sign on the dotted line, but that didn’t mean his assistant was up for grabs. She wasn’t part of the deal. Sure, he’d wanted her to look presentable, had even supplied her with the funds to do so. But did she have to have done it quite so successfully?
He stirred his coffee longer than was absolutely necessary and discarded his spoon with a solid clink. The sooner this night ended the better.
Alongside him, Philly smiled in response to Stuart’s question and took a sip of her mineral water.
‘This is probably going to sound really silly…’
‘Of course it won’t,’ said Stuart, stroking her shoulder, ‘you can tell us.’
Damien resisted the urge to growl, instead focusing on Philly’s response.
She cradled the glass between her two hands on the table and smiled. ‘Okay then. My parents wanted to give their children names that were a bit different. They decided on the names of cities that they liked the sound of.’ She looked from the face of one brother to the other. ‘Oh, gosh, that does sound weird, doesn’t it, especially seeing no one but my mother calls me Philadelphia anyway. It always gets shortened to Philly.’
‘Not at all,’ Shayne said, shaking his head. Stuart put down his glass. ‘So they named you Philadelphia?’ He nodded. ‘Yeah, I like it. So what did your folks call the other kids—Melbourne—Paris—Constantinople?’
Even from where he was sitting Damien sensed the change in her as she ignored the light-hearted banter, her eyes focusing on the glass between her hands. ‘There was only one other. My kid brother. They named him Montreal.’
‘Montreal. That’s unusual,’ said Stuart.
‘I know.’ She smiled softly, letting her head fall to one side. ‘He hated it so we call him—’ She hesitated, suddenly biting down on her bottom lip. ‘We used to call him Monty instead.’
There was a quiet resonance in her words that went way beyond what was spoken.
‘What happened to him?’ Damien asked softly, before he’d realised he’d even put voice to his question.
Her eyes were fixed on the glass, her thumbs stroking away the condensation forming and reforming on the outside.
‘He was a pilot, flying home for the weekend with Annelise, his wife, to show off their new baby son. They’d named him after our father—he died ten years ago and mum was so proud that they’d named the baby after him. She couldn’t wait to meet her first grandchild.’ She took a breath, as if unwilling to give voice to what came next for fear it would be true.
‘There was a storm en route and something went wrong; they think a lightning strike took out the electrical system.’ She shrugged. ‘Whatever. The plane crashed and they all…every one of them. They all died.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Thomas was just ten days old.’
Forces shifted inside him as the silence that followed blanketed the table. The quiet emotion of her words betrayed a feeling he recognised, a feeling buried deep inside.
But it was a feeling he didn’t want to be reminded of. He didn’t want to pull it out and examine what it meant. It was better off left exactly where it was.
Philly looked up at the faces around the table. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, you didn’t want to hear all that. Please forgive me.’
Stuart was the first to react. His arm shifted from the chair back to around her shoulders and he gave her a squeeze, putting his wineglass down so he could cover her hands in his. ‘Don’t apologise,’ he said softly. ‘There’s absolutely no need.’
She smiled up at him, her lashes moist, eyes glistening. ‘Thank you, Stuart.’
‘Call me Stu,’ he said, his voice low and sympathetic. ‘All my friends do.’
Her smile widened. ‘Thank you, Stu.’
Damien pushed himself out of his chair. ‘Time to call it a night. Thank you, gentlemen. We’ll see ourselves back to the hotel.’
Philly looked up, surprised by his sudden action. ‘Oh, right. Okay.’
She made a move to stand but Stuart placed an ironman fist over her arm, pinning her to the chair. ‘It’s still early,’ he said, his eyes fixed on Philly but the tone of his words aimed directly at Damien. ‘Maybe Philly would like to see a little more of the Gold Coast entertainment.’
His eyes softened. ‘Would you like that, Philly? Do you like to dance?’
‘Um, yes, actually,’ she said, her voice wavering. ‘I do.’
He turned to Damien triumphantly. ‘So that’s settled, then. Sorry you don’t feel up to joining us, Damien, but we’ll see you tomorrow morning at the office. And don’t worry, we’ll look after Philly for you.’
Damien battled with the urge to rearrange one smug face, but he wasn’t about to undo all the goodwill they’d built up today. Then again, he wasn’t about to be out-manoeuvred either.
He dredged up a laugh, as if he was enjoying the banter, and schooled his voice to sound civilised while inside him his heartbeat pounded like jungle drums. ‘Another time, perhaps. Sorry to disappoint you, but Ms Summers and I have some important details to go over tonight. I’m sure you understand.’
With that he placed a firm hand under her elbow and levered her from her chair. Stuart was left with no choice but to remove his hand from her arm though he made no pretence that he was happy about it.
‘Good night, gentlemen. I look forward to furthering our discussions in the morning.’
He steered Philly out of the restaurant and into a waiting taxi without saying another word.
‘What
