You always had a list. For everything. A list of things to do that day, a list of how long you practised that week. You are a listy type of person and people don’t change that much. So it makes sense for you to have a list of all the things I am going to have to do in exchange for one interview.’
He shot her a glance which made her eyes narrow. Why did he have to remember that small detail, of all things? There was no way she could talk him through her list now.
‘I prefer to think of them as challenges. But you are right about one thing—I have thought about what you could possibly give me in exchange for an exclusive, and you can take that smirk off your face right now. You would not be so lucky. So I came up with a new approach.’
She crossed the space between them until her face was only inches away from his and licked her lips before speaking.
‘Look, Sam,’ she said in low, calm voice as her gaze locked onto his. ‘I know people are interested in why I decided to retire when I did, but my reasons are very personal and very close to my heart.’ She took a breath and swallowed before rolling her shoulders back a little. ‘It would be very easy for a reporter to do a hatchet job with some crazy headline just to sell more papers. So...I need to know that I can trust the journalist I go for to give me a fair hearing.’
‘That’s not going to be easy,’ he replied in a voice which sang with resignation and disappointment.
‘I know. This is why you are going to have to prove to me that you are the right man for the job before I say a word on the record.’
His eyebrows went skywards. ‘Any ideas on how I do that?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she sniffed. ‘You are going to have to pass an audition before I give you the job. You see, this week is crazily busy and my wrist is a problem. So I need someone to be my Man Friday for the next few days. Unpaid, of course, and you provide your own uniform. But all refreshments are provided by the management. And I just know how much Saskia and Kate are looking forward to having you around the place.’
‘A Man Friday,’ Sam repeated, very, very slowly. ‘So, basically, I have to be your man slave for the next week before you’ll even think about giving me the interview?’
Amber picked her business card out of her dress pocket with two fingers, gave Sam her sweetest camera-ready smile and looked deep into his startled eyes as she held the card high in the air. ‘Well, it’s good to know that your powers of deductive reasoning are as sharp as ever. The audition starts at my apartment at ten tomorrow morning. Oh—and just to make it a little more interesting, I’ll have a new challenge for you every day. See you there, Sam. If you are man enough to accept the challenge.’
The air bristled with tension for all of ten seconds. Then Sam took two powerful steps forward, his brows low and dark-eyed, his legs moving from the hips in one smooth movement. Driven. Powerful.
And, before Amber had a chance to complain or slip away, Sam splayed one hand onto her hip and drew her closer to him. Hip to hip.
Amber’s breath caught in her throat as his long clever fingers pressed against the thin silk of her dress as though it was not there. She could feel his hot breath on her face as she inhaled a scent that more than anything else she had seen or experienced today whipped her right back to being held in Sam’s arms. It was car oil, polish, man sweat, dust and ambition and all Sam. And it was totally, totally intoxicating.
His gaze locked onto her eyes. Holding her transfixed.
‘Bambi, I am man enough for anything that you have to offer me,’ Sam whispered in a voice which was almost trembling with intensity, one corner of his mouth turned up into a cheeky grin as though he knew precisely what effect he was having on her blood pressure. And there was not one thing she could do about it.
Then, just like that, he stepped back and released her, and it took a lot to stay upright.
And then he winked at her.
‘See ya tomorrow—’ he smiled with a casual lilt in his voice ‘—looking forward to it.’
‘No Mother. Seriously. I don’t need another expert medical opinion. Every specialist I have seen recommends six months’ recovery time. Yes, I am sure your friend in Miami is excellent but I am not pushing my wrist by trying to practice before it is ready.’
Amber closed her eyes and gave her virtuoso violinist mother two more minutes of ranting about how foolish she was to throw away her career before interrupting. ‘Mum, I love you but I have to go. Have a great cruise. Bye.’
Amber closed the call, strolled over to the railing of her penthouse apartment and looked out over London. The silvery River Thames cut a wide ribbon of glistening water through the towering office blocks of glass and exposed metal that clung to the riverbanks. Peeking out between the modern architectural wonders were the spires and domes of ancient churches and imposing carved stone buildings that had once been the highlights of the London landscape.
Even five storeys up, the hustle and bustle of traffic noise and building work drifted up to the penthouse, creating the background soundtrack to her view of modern city life.
Everywhere she looked she saw life and energy and the relentless drive for prosperity and wealth. Investment bankers, city traders and financial analysts jostled on the streets below her on the way to their computer trading desks. Time was money.
The contrast to the tiny beachside orphanage in Kerala where Parvita was celebrating her wedding could not be greater.
The seaside village where the girls’ orphanage was based had running water and electricity—most of the time.
She would love to go back and see them again. One day. When she was not so terrified of catching another life-threatening infection.
A cold shiver ran across Amber’s shoulders and she pulled her cashmere tighter across the front of her chest.
Heath and her mother were right about one thing. As always. Even if she wasn’t scared, she could raise more income for the orphanage by staying in London or Boston or Miami and fund-raising than risk returning to Kerala, where she had caught meningitis only a few months earlier.
Now all she had to do was come up with a way of doing precisely that.
Not by playing the piano. That was for sure.
No matter how much her mother nagged her to reconsider and plan a comeback concert tour. A year ago she might have gone along with it and started rigorous training but that part of her life was over now.
Wiped away by meningitis and a few months of enforced bed rest when she had to ask some hard questions about the life she was living and how she intended to spend it in the future.
Amber closed her eyes and inhaled and exhaled slowly a couple of times. No going back, girl. No going back. Only forward. This was her new start. Her new beginning.
The sun was warm on her face and when she opened her eyes the first thing she saw was the braided cord bracelet that Parvita had made and woven onto her right wrist that last day she was at the orphanage.
She
