so everyday, so forgettable. The thought of her bestowing kisses like that on just anybody made his blood boil. Stupid. He knew this already—she was the type to be ready and willing to turn it on with whoever she fancied in the moment and with no concept of loyalty or depth.
How good a time did she have with all those guys she was photographed out with? He didn’t want to think about it. That way, torture lay—he’d been through that before and he’d be a damn fool to set himself up for it again.
Seeing her at the centre of yet another adoring crowd, he decided he wasn’t going to stick around to watch any longer. She was still in full flight—not looking at all worse for wear, not a hint of tiredness about the eyes. Right now he felt tired just looking at her. Vivacious, sparkling, drawing everyone to her—men, women, gay, married, straight. They all flocked to her. And it wasn’t just the ‘princess’factor. She was a fabulous guest. She didn’t dominate the conversation but she sure kept it sparking. Somehow she made everyone around her feel good.
Everyone except James.
He could see how she thrived on it—the brightness in her eyes was evidence of her enjoyment. Why was it she needed this so much? To be celebrated. To be adored. It seemed such a false sort of existence. Did she really think these people were all offering true friendship? What if she weren’t beautiful, if she weren’t a princess? Did she really think they’d still be there for her?
And her assessment of the event tonight had been pretty astute. He’d played devil’s advocate partly for the fun of it, partly to test her. And she’d done well. It added to his impression that she was more capable than she gave herself credit for. That added to his vexation.
It really was time for him to leave. Not intending to talk to Liss or anyone else at the party again. His convivial spirit had gone into hiding. But just as he hit the exit she came up to him and this time her smile was the one dripping with sarcasm.
‘Has the clock chimed? Is it pumpkin time already?’
‘I have to work in the morning. I take that seriously.’
‘Tomorrow’s Saturday, James.’ She smiled in triumph.
‘I know, princess, but it’s still Friday in Europe, so in the morning I work.’
She actually looked concerned. ‘It is possible to work hard and play hard, you know.’
‘Maybe. But you know you can do more than this, Liss. You should do more than this.’ He didn’t know why she bothered him so much. Why should he even care? But he did and it pissed him off even more. ‘You’re wasting the talents you have. You’re wasting your life.’
Liss just held back the gasp. Froze over, trying not to let her face or body reflect the strike of hurt. Wasting her life? In other words she was a waste of space.
His eyes narrowed. ‘All you’re interested in is whatever feels like fun right now, and don’t you give a damn about consequences or tomorrow.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a party, James.’ He could never understand what her life was like. How alone and lonely she increasingly felt. Homesick for a home she no longer had. All the most fabulous parties in the world could never make her feel better about that. But they helped. And the people welcomed her with open arms—unlike her family.
‘But that’s all you do, isn’t it? You’re spoilt, Elissa. A lost little girl.’
At that point her temper became stronger than her grip on it. ‘Must you be so patronising? Who are you to pass judgment on me anyway? What business is it of yours?’
‘None. Except when the way you party impacts on my business.’
‘I’m at work on time every day.’
‘And doing a sterling job.’ Devastatingly sarcastic.
‘You don’t think I can do it, do you?’
‘Well, I have yet to see much evidence to the contrary. You say you can work hard, but you’re still showing up barely on time, leaving the minute the clock strikes, spending every spare moment shopping.’
‘What I do outside of work hours—’
‘Spare me. I already know. But you’re not putting the effort in work hours either. You’re playing at it. In between reading magazines and surfing the Internet, you still haven’t even figured out the phone system.’
He knew that?
She stared at him—at the anger in his gaze. What had she done to make him dislike her so much? And yet even as she watched she saw it transmute into something else. The magnetism that was so strong between them grew: desire. Need threaded with frustration and ran through her veins, excitement and longing rushed. As the room seemed to darken—there was only James.
The flash of light broke the spell. Just as she registered the clicking sound, James swore, short and crude, his lips barely moving. He stepped away immediately. Turned a final, fleeting, burningly cold glare at her as he exited. Liss blinked—forcing her focus away, suppressing the desire to follow him; instead she faced back to the party, lips twisting up automatically for the camera.
JAMES barely slept. the grumpy, headachy mood didn’t improve when he thought about the night before. He should be working—making those calls. He should be concentrating. Instead he was hit with hideous memories. He remembered clearly his mother’s beseeching tones.
‘You know I love your father very much,’ she’d said.
He’d started walking.
She’d called after him. ‘You know I love you…’
He’d started running then. Yeah, sure you do, Mother. Whose dictionary were you looking up love in? Family and loyalty clearly meant so much. Not.
He got out of bed and went to the gym. Still couldn’t stop thinking, sweating out old hurts, swamped with the threat of new ones. In his mind the past got all mixed up, the hurt, the anger of loss and betrayal. The humiliation of deception and discovery and being the last in the world to know.
His mother had done it. Jenny had done it. Liss was of the same ilk—needy for attention. One man would never be enough. He told himself and told himself—warning. And yet he couldn’t keep away. The drive to be physically near her was too strong. And even though he had spoken the truth last night, he felt guilty.
She opened the door, clearly surprised to see him. She looked him up and down a couple of times. Made him feel so self-conscious he put his hand to his chin. The roughened skin reminded him that he hadn’t shaved before showering.
‘Did you want a ride to Atlanta House today?’ It was kind of an apology. But most of him expected her to say no, sure she only did her ‘charity bit’on the days when she had nothing better to do, or when there was bound to be an audience.
Her expression darkened. ‘Yes, but—’
‘I’ll take you.’
