assistance. Ruby had agreed to drop him off at the Golden Computer Shopping Centre in Kowloon. Damon would find his own way back to the apartment. Too easy.
‘Mind the scams,’ she said as they loaded up her car with his father’s purchases.
‘I shall enjoy them immensely,’ he murmured and she shot him a perplexed glance. ‘I’m only browsing, Ruby. Seeing what’s new and improved or old and abused. I do it every time I come to Hong Kong.’
‘So … you really do work with computers?’
Damon nodded. Not a lie, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. Ruby headed for the driver’s seat. Damon to the passenger side.
‘Is there any particular type of food or beverage you’d like me to stock the apartment with?’ she asked as they filled the car with shopping bags and then themselves. ‘Your favourites? Your sisters’ favourites?’
‘Lena likes a good Sauvignon Blanc, Poppy loves lychees and I’m a sucker for crispy duck in pancake pockets with all the trimmings. No one’s all that keen on a-thou-sand-year-old eggs, shark-fin soup, turtle jelly, or chicken-feet anything.’
‘Not a problem. I’ll steer clear of the swallow’s nest tonics and imported Japanese blowfish too. And, Damon?’
The seriousness was back in her voice.
‘I’m really sorry about our earlier misunderstanding.’
‘Don’t be,’ he said gently. ‘I’ve forgotten it already.’
Ruby hit the grocery stores after that. White wine, fresh fruit—including lychees—and crispy duck with all the trimmings. Snack food for Russell’s fridge that she took back to the apartment immediately in the hope that Damon would still be out. He wasn’t.
‘You shop too fast,’ she said as she downed her numerous shopping bags, opened the coat cupboard and slipped out of her high heels and into her flats. He’d taken his jacket off and rolled up his shirtsleeves.
If a sexier version of manhood existed, Ruby hadn’t seen it.
‘Dare I suggest that you shop too much?’ he countered as he closed the door behind her and picked up the shopping bags.
Now she’d seen it.
‘I smell food,’ he said.
‘It’s crispy duck. I was going to put it in the fridge for later.’
‘Ruby, you spoil me.’ Damon’s grin became boyishly delighted.
‘It’s Christmas.’
‘It’s great.’
Ruby watched as Damon set the bags down next to the bench and found the one with his favourite food in it. Man and his stomach. Always the same, no matter what his pay grade. ‘It’s still hot,’ he said.
‘The restaurant’s only a block away. If you like the food I’ll give you their number.’ Ruby started on the unpacking. The sooner she did her job, the sooner she could leave. Leaving was preferable to being around Damon. Damon called forth feelings she didn’t want any part of. Starting with desire for a man who kept far too many secrets. ‘Pretend I’m not here,’ she told him.
‘But you are here.’
‘Then think of me as the hired help.’
‘Of course.’ He gestured towards the takeaway containers he’d lined up on the counter. ‘Want some?’
Ruby rolled her eyes and kept right on unpacking. Fruit for the fruit bowl by way of a water rinse. She found the colander and started washing grapes. A grape escaped her and rolled across the counter towards him. He stopped it, ate it, and Ruby’s gaze slid helplessly to his lips. Not good.
‘Does my father treat you like an employee?’ he murmured. ‘Why wouldn’t he?’ ‘Just curious.’
‘Whatever you’re thinking just say it,’ she said darkly.
‘I was thinking that I can see now why plenty of people wouldn’t want to employ you. If there were women around you’d outclass them. Husbands around and you’d captivate them. Furthermore, I’m willing to bet that my father treats you more like a daughter than an employee.’
‘I think it’s because he met me a couple of times as a child. I’m trying to break him of the habit.’
‘There it is,’ he said softly. ‘The reason you’ll never make a good underling. You’re too regal. Taking charge comes as automatically to you as breathing.’
‘So?’ For some reason his words wounded her.
‘It’s not a criticism, Ruby. I’m just saying that asking me to treat you like the hired help is all well and good but it’s never going to happen. You’re Ruby Maguire; part princess, part seasoned survivor when it comes to the whims of the wealthy, and you know it. What’s more, I know it. We’re just going to have to come up with some other way of dealing with each other.’
‘Are we having another serious conversation?’ she demanded suspiciously. ‘Because, I still remember how well the last one worked out for us.’
‘You think we should stick to banter? Flirting without intent?’
‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s the perfect solution. Easy as breathing, for both of us—no character assassination intended.’
‘None taken,’ he said dryly. ‘Flirting is comfortable.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Predictable.’ He seemed to be looking for a catch.
‘I’m sure we can make it so.’
‘Safe,’ he said, watching her closely.
‘Possibly a new experience for the mysterious Damon West, but yes,’ she said airily. ‘Flirting with me is comfortable, predictable, easy and safe.’
‘Right.’ Damon’s enthusiasm for flirting—with or without intent—appeared to be on the wane. ‘What if I fall asleep?’
‘It’s all right, Damon.’ Hard not to smile at Damon West’s thorough comprehension of self. ‘I’ll wake you before I leave.’
Ruby did leave Damon’s company eventually, and she took with her plenty of food for thought. She’d never thought of herself in the terms that Damon West had described her. Part princess, part seasoned survivor.
Yes, she knew her way around the upper echelons of society; with its games of one-upmanship and the ultimate scorecard that was money. Yes, she could relate to being a survivor. Always had been. Another lesson from her father. But she’d never thought of herself as authoritative, or a princess for that matter. She’d never considered herself a difficult woman to deal with. Recent bouts of rampant paranoia aside. She’d left Damon enjoying his meal and showing no signs of resentment towards her whatsoever, in the aftermath of her accusations and suspicions. Social disaster alleviated. Good for her. For her and Damon both,
