who was he really? With his lifestyle, looks, his way with women, he reminded her too much of the man who, to her humiliation, had left her to cancel their wedding plans alone. But she’d seen glimpses—shadows—of someone else behind that polished façade. Drained of energy, she closed her eyes. Cameron Black Property Developers might have a reputable name but Cameron Black, the man, was someone else entirely.
The wide steel doors slid open on a cushion of air and Cam stepped into his night-darkened office on the fifteenth floor with its twinkling vista of lights below, but he barely gave them a glance as he strode past the empty reception area. He’d kissed her. Didi. The woman he’d commissioned to work for him.
Why, for God’s sake? Because he’d been unable to help himself. He’d been bewitched. No, he told himself, it was simpler than that—he was horny. Scowling, he rifled through his files until he found the Sydney contacts. She didn’t call the shots where his sex life was concerned. So why had it felt as if he’d been sledgehammered? As if he’d been the one out of control?
He tossed the necessary paperwork into his briefcase then moved to his computer, booted it up. He’d not go to Sydney next weekend as he’d originally planned, but tomorrow.
Just a kiss. That was all it was, right?
Who knew what might have happened if the damn cat hadn’t decided to take a piece out of him?
Sex might have happened.
Fast furious sex on his kitchen counter. The image of him whipping her leggings down and plunging himself into that warm wet heat had his pulse stepping up, his blood rushing to his groin. He swore. He didn’t do emotional, he didn’t do trust, not where women were concerned. Not any more.
He tapped keys, booked a seat on the six a.m. flight and printed out his boarding pass. He wanted the best Didi could do with her needlework. He needed her creativity on the wall, not in his bed.
Didi spent the following morning designing something on paper, deciding on materials, sorting through what she already had and what she needed to purchase.
This was what she needed to concentrate her thoughts on, she told herself as she pulled out skeins of tangerine and vermilion silk and matched them to the aubergine. Not the sexy man who was paying her, offering her the chance she’d been waiting for.
Next she took Cameron’s offer of the limo service and shopped like a queen—for supplies. But it was liberating selecting materials without having to think of the cost. Paying for them with the cash he’d left, then riding back to his apartment without having to depend on an unreliable car, the hassles of parking or public transport. The carefree way she’d done as a child.
She and her sister had been raised as the privileged daughters of a society couple. Their parents graced the social pages regularly and she’d attended numerous functions over the years. As a teenager, she’d accompanied her mother to her charitable events, had witnessed firsthand what it was like to live in the gutter with no support, no hope. She’d seen the despair in those eyes and what that desperation led to—drugs, crime, death. It had changed the way Didi viewed her place in the world.
Over the years she’d devoted regular early mornings to helping out with the kids’ breakfast club on the seamier side of the city, lent her expertise to an arts programme for women and children in shelters, volunteered late shifts at a halfway house for those undergoing drug rehabilitation.
People were all equals as far as Didi was concerned.
Mum didn’t see it that way. They’re not like us, dear. Her mother would tell Didi, ‘It’s our duty as Christians to help those less fortunate than ourselves.’ But she didn’t want to soil her silk ensembles doing it.
Nor could Didi imagine Cameron Black getting his designer suits dirty in a soup kitchen or handing out blankets to the homeless on a frosty night.
Bulging shopping bags hanging from both arms, she stepped onto the footpath in front of his apartment building, glancing at a young woman at the entrance as she passed. Even in skinny jeans and a casual black velvet jacket, she was stunning. At around six foot, she was a statuesque brunette with clear blue eyes. Yes, she’d fit right in amongst the tenants who resided here, Didi thought.
Whereas she’d never fitted in. Her older sister, Veronica, took after their parents—tall, dark. Immaculate. At eighteen she’d married a wealthy middle-aged owner of several luxury yachts that ferried rich tourists around the Harbour and now lived a life of luxury in one of Sydney’s most affluent suburbs.
She nodded to Davis at the security desk and crossed the ornate foyer, stepped into the elevator. If her sister could see Didi now …
Should she answer that? Didi frowned at her mobile over her glasses while the familiar tune rang out over the soft CD she’d been working to. She didn’t need any distractions, but what if it was Cameron checking up on her with some request or other? She could tell him she’d started, even if she didn’t need to hear his deep velvet voice on the other end of the line. She set down the frame she was in the process of constructing and answered with a crisp, ‘Hello?’
‘Surprise!’
‘Veronica?’ Thinking of the devil in Prada had somehow conjured her up. Didi leaned back in her chair, removed her glasses, stunned to hear her sister’s voice. Veronica hadn’t spoken to her since she’d left Sydney. She rarely spoke to Didi in any case, unless it was to denigrate her. So why was she ringing now? Didi rubbed the frown pleating her brow. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m well. Are you busy?’ When Didi didn’t answer, Veronica said, ‘I didn’t know if you’d be able to take personal calls while you’re working. Some work-places have a strict policy on mobile phones. I was going to leave a message.’
‘Ah-h-h … No, it’s cool.’ The little lie tripped off her tongue—as far as her family knew, she worked in a gallery and she wanted to keep it that way. ‘We’re fairly casual here.’
‘Great. Listen, I’m in Melbourne for a couple of days—Daniel’s at a residential conference in Brisbane and I told him I needed a break to explore Melbourne’s shopping arcades. And to see you of course,’ she added. It sounded like an afterthought. Definitely an afterthought.
More like you’re checking up on me. Didi’s stomach dived to her feet as her hand tightened on the phone. ‘You’re in Melbourne? Now?’ Oh, she was so dead.
‘I’m at the airport. I should be in the city in, say, thirty minutes. What’s the gallery’s address? I’ll come straight there.’
‘No!’ Think.
‘What’s wrong?’ A definite edge of suspicion. ‘I’ll only stay a few moments. We can catch up after—’
‘I’m not actually working at the gallery today …’ She paused, looked around at her apartment. Cameron wasn’t due home till tomorrow night. He’d never know Veronica had set foot in the place. ‘I’m working from home,’ she continued. ‘I’ve been commissioned to do a piece for the opening of a new gallery.’ That part was true, at least.
‘Oh … that’s … great.’
She heard her sister’s tentative approval and breathed a sigh of almost-relief. Her sister could go home and report everything was fine with Didi and maybe, just maybe, her family would
