Infamous Bargain
After a moment he said, ‘OK.’ And he reached over and touched her hand, just a light touch on her skin. Oddly, she felt a tiny fluttering in her stomach, almost as though he’d threatened her in some way.
The coffee came, and she was glad of the diversion. She spooned cream into hers and stirred it broodingly.
‘So what do you do all day?’ he asked her.
‘I help out in a boutique in Newmarket owned by a friend. Fashion accessories.’
He didn’t seem madly impressed. She supposed it was small beer compared with his business empire. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘How long have you been doing that?’
‘About a year. Before that I worked for a market research firm, but they laid off some staff and it was last in, first out. And I’ve been a kennelmaid, receptionist, theatre assistant—before the theatre company went bust. Of course, overseas I picked up odd jobs—fruitpicking, waitressing—once I worked as a nanny for a little while.’
‘A pretty varied working life,’ Kynan commented.
‘I like variety. I was never blessed—or cursed—with a burning ambition for a particular career.’ She was happy to have work of any sort that provided her with some independence.
‘And you still live at home?’
‘Since I came back from overseas.’ His tone was non-committal, but she found herself reacting defensively. ‘It’s convenient and Laura likes having me there.’ When she had first returned she’d intended to go flatting. But Laura had seemed so relieved to have her home, and her father had taken it for granted that she’d stay. Somehow she had never made the move.
‘There’s no man in your life?’
‘If there was,’ she said, ‘I wouldn’t be here with you.’
‘You’re the faithful type?’ he mocked, as though he didn’t believe that such a type existed.
‘If I loved a man,’ she said, ‘I’d be faithful to him.’
‘And have you?’
‘Have I...?’
‘Ever loved a man?’
‘I’m not sure I...know what you mean.’
His mouth quirked. ‘It’s a simple question, but you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.’
It wasn’t a simple question at all. Of course she’d been in love, briefly and blindingly—and falsely, as it turned out. Because that couldn’t be real love, that died so easily and so fast. Real love, lasting love, was a different thing altogether. It hadn’t happened to her yet, and maybe never would. She only hoped that when it did she would recognise it. But what he’d been asking—what she’d thought he was asking—was if she’d had a lover in the physical sense.
‘It’s a very personal question,’ she said.
‘I’ll withdraw it if you like,’ he offered easily, as though it didn’t matter, after all. ‘Maybe...one day I’ll find out the answer.’
His smile glinted. Briar drew in a breath, ready to slay him with words, but of course that was what he was waiting for, her rising to the bait. And then he’d go all innocent and deny that he’d meant what she thought. She knew that game.
Well, she wasn’t going to play it with him. She kept her expression blank and raised her coffee-cup to her lips. Putting it down again, she said pleasantly, ‘That was a wonderful meal. Thank you.’
Kynan inclined his head. ‘Not at all. It was worth it for the pleasure of your company.’ He finished his coffee and asked, ‘More for you?’
Briar shook her head.
He paid the bill and took her arm as they left the restaurant. ‘It’s a nice night,’ he said. ‘Feel like a stroll along the waterfront?’ The scent of the sea came faintly to them. Moonlight still shimmered on the horizon.
It wasn’t late. Cars constantly passed by under the green glow of the street-lights. The night air was cool but pleasant. ‘All right,’ she heard herself say. ‘A short one.’
They walked slowly, and he took her hand and tucked it into his arm. She might have withdrawn it except for the darkness which the street-lights didn’t altogether dispel, and the high heels of her shoes. It wouldn’t do to trip and fall at his feet.
After a while they stopped and leaned on a guard-rail, looking out at the water and the multicoloured reflected lights, ceaselessly moving, and breaking into disjointed lines. Small, unseen wavelets lapped at the shore, and a fishy, salty scent rose from the breakwater. Briar removed her hand from Kynan’s and placed it on the cold metal of the railing.
Kynan turned and leaned back so that he could see her face. His elbows rested on the rail. ‘What did your father say when you told him you were going out with me?’ he asked her.
Briar glanced at him briefly. ‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’
‘He said you must have taken a fancy to me.’ She tilted her head, challengingly.
Kynan gave a breathy laugh. ‘Not, “Good girl”?’
Briar drew away from the guard-rail, taking a step back from him. ‘I thought you’d admitted you were wrong about that.’
‘About you,’ he corrected her. ‘And your father is no fool. He’s right, of course. I have taken a fancy to you—just as he wanted me to.’ His voice was light, but there was an undercurrent to it that made her decidedly uncomfortable.
‘Am I supposed to be flattered?’
‘You needn’t be.’
She wasn’t at all sure what he was getting at. Why did she have the feeling that half of this conversation wasn’t taking place between the two of them at all, but somewhere inside his head?
‘I’m cold,’ she said.
His teeth gleamed whitely for a second. ‘Sure.’ He sounded as though he didn’t believe her for an instant. He knew she was retreating. ‘I’ll take you back to the car.’
He drove her home in silence, and she felt stifled and fidgety the whole time. At the house he got out and came round to her door, but she was already on the pavement when he reached her.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘The meal was delicious.’
‘You’re not going to ask me in?’
‘I need an early night. We had a party last night, remember.’
‘Aren’t you used to late nights?’ He was looking at her curiously.
‘I don’t spend my life at parties, if that’s what you mean.’
‘How about tomorrow afternoon?’
‘What about it?’
‘It’s Sunday,’ he said patiently. ‘Are you free in the afternoon? Do you like cricket?’
‘You don’t need to offer me any more outings,’ she said. ‘The dinner was more than adequate atonement.’
‘Meaning, you don’t want to see me again?’
Why was he insisting on making her spell it out? She lifted a shoulder, not saying anything.
His voice soft, he said, ‘Playing hard to get, Briar?’
She almost choked on her indrawn breath. ‘If you still think that my father—’
He made a small, derisive sound. ‘This has nothing to do with your father. It’s to do with you—and me.’
Bewildered, she demanded, ‘What are you talking about?’
‘This,’ he said tersely, and he reached for her and pulled her into his arms and kissed her before she could do anything about it, driving her astonished lips apart with stunning eroticism. His mouth was warm and firm and compelling, and he gathered her body against his as if he knew that was where it belonged, with a sureness and grace that had her pliant as a willow branch for long seconds, before she stiffened and thrust her hands against him, wrenching herself away, her breath coming fast between her open, moistened lips.
He said, ‘That’s what I was talking about. If I took a fancy to you—and I did—at least it’s mutual. So stop pretending, Briar. Let’s be honest about it.’
CHAPTER THREE
BRIAR hadn’t known. She felt stupid that she hadn’t known it until then. He was right. And he’d recognised, long before she did, that the unsettling effect he had on her was due to basic sexual instinct that had seethed beneath the surface and manifested itself in the uncomfortable emotional reactions she’d mistaken for dislike and even fear.
She’d been right the first time she saw him when she’d thought he was far too knowing and too sure of himself. It was humiliating that he’d proved his point so easily, but at least now she knew about her own vulnerability and she’d not let him take her unawares again.
‘Sex on its own,’ she said, ‘doesn’t interest me.’
Kynan laughed. ‘It doesn’t interest me, either. Mutuality is much more satisfying.’
She was glad it was dark enough that the heat in her cheeks wouldn’t be visible. ‘I meant,’ she said, fighting for some dignity, ‘that I’m not in the market for a casual fling with any passing stranger.’
He cocked his head to one side. ‘Are you so responsive to every passing stranger who happens along?’
‘You know I’m not!’ she snapped.
‘How could I know? We only met—’
‘That’s just my point!’
‘Ah. You feel we should know each other better before indulging in...intimacies.’
Briar found her fists were clenched. ‘I’ve no intention of indulging in anything of the kind!’
‘Not even when you know me better?’
‘I don’t want to know you better! I have no desire—’
His laughter interrupted her. ‘Liar. Why don’t you want to get to know me?’
‘I have no desire,’ she said deliberately, ‘to get to know a self-satisfied, smug, egotistical—’
‘I get the idea,’ he interrupted. ‘You don’t like me.’
‘No, I don’t!’
He grinned. ‘Do you always jump to conclusions about people you hardly know?’
‘Only when their behaviour warrants it.’
He leaned forward a little, bringing his face closer to hers. ‘But you liked kissing me, Briar,’ he reminded her softly. ‘You can’t deny that.’
‘That doesn’t mean you had a right to do it!’
Changing tack abruptly, he said, ‘I thought you were enjoying yourself, tonight. Or was that another demonstration of your acting ability? Don’t bother to be polite,’ he added with some irony.
Tempted to dispute it, she hesitated and reluctantly admitted, ‘It was very...pleasant.’
‘Damned with faint praise,’ he murmured. ‘And the kiss was pleasant too, wasn’t it? A nice way of rounding off the evening, I thought.’
‘No, you didn’t. You meant to teach me a lesson.’
He was still for a moment, then he gave a slight shrug. ‘Maybe that was a part of it. But mostly, I’d been wanting to kiss you ever since we met.’ He paused. ‘Don’t tell me you weren’t aware of it.’
She’d seen the attentive interest in his eyes in that first instant when he looked up and saw her coming down the stairs. She couldn’t refute that. She looked away from him. ‘If you mean that I should have expected to have to pay for my dinner—’
‘I’d stop there if I were you!’ His voice sent a small shiver of fright down her spine. She forced herself to meet his gaze again, defiance in her eyes, but she couldn’t find any more words.
His eyes were very dark, and even in this light she could see the angry spark in them. ‘Don’t push me too far, Briar,’ he warned.
‘Are you threatening me?’ She faced him, her chin squared.
He looked down at her and suddenly laughed again. ‘No.’ He lifted a hand and flicked at her cheek with his finger. ‘I’m telling you to watch those thorns of yours, my sweet rose.’
She jerked her head away from the tiny stinging touch. ‘I’m not yours, and I’m not sweet!’
He was smiling at her, enjoying this. ‘I’d noticed. But I’m sure you could be if you put your mind to it. Think about it.’ And he swung on his heel and went back round the car.
With his hand on the door-handle, he said, ‘Go into the house.’
She was standing where he had left her, and she turned and walked quickly up the path, not looking round as she fumbled with the lock and let herself in. As she closed the door she heard the sound of his car moving away.
* * *
To her annoyance she did think about it—about him, anyway—quite a lot over the next few days. Trying to put him out of her mind simply didn’t work. Her brain insisted on going over and over things he’d said, and her body kept reacting to memories of the way he’d held her and kissed her and woken that unexpected response.
Her father had wanted to know, over breakfast the following morning, how her evening had been.
‘Very nice, thank you,’ was all the reply she was prepared to give him.
But after a few minutes he’d said, as though unable to contain himself, ‘Well, will you be seeing him again?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Briar kept her voice casual.
‘You didn’t offend him, did you?’
‘No.’ She might have, she supposed, with her assessment of his character, but he’d shown no sign of being mortally wounded. If anything, he’d found it amusing. ‘I thought you said he wasn’t all that important. Why are you so anxious?’
‘I’m not anxious,’ her father asserted. ‘But at your age you ought to be thinking about...things. It wouldn’t do you any harm to encourage him.’
Laura said, ‘But if Briar doesn’t like him, Xavier—’
‘What’s wrong with him?’ her husband demanded. ‘Kynan Roth is a very good catch for a girl.’
Laura said, ‘Briar is a very good catch, herself. Any man would be lucky to have her.’
‘Thank you, Laura.’ Briar smiled at her. ‘But I’m not actually thinking of marriage—and neither, I’m sure, is Kynan. I doubt if he’s the marrying kind.’
Laura said confidently, ‘Every man is the marrying kind. They need it more than we do.’
Xavier bent a surprised stare on his wife. ‘What gave you that idea?’
‘I read it somewhere. Men marry more quickly after they lose a partner, and are happier when they’re married. Women are happier single. Statistically speaking,’ Laura added hastily, ducking her head.
‘I don’t believe it,’ Xavier said bluntly.
Laura cast her stepdaughter a lightning-fast glance, then turned an innocent gaze to her husband. ‘Well, that’s what it said.’
‘I’m certainly happy being single,’ Briar declared.
‘Are you saying you don’t want to marry?’ her father asked, a hint of outrage in his voice.
‘Not yet. Maybe never. But if the right man came along...’
‘How do you know Kynan Roth isn’t the right man for you?’
‘He does seem very eligible,’ Laura murmured. ‘Handsome, too. And thoughtful. Not many men will phone their hostess to thank her for a party, and even fewer send flowers...’
‘Do you want to marry me off, too?’ Briar asked her.
‘No, of course not! I love having you here, I don’t know what I’d do without you. But we don’t want to selfishly keep you at home.’
‘You’re not a bit selfish. And you don’t really need my help.’
Laura looked doubtful, and Xavier gave a snort that made his daughter throw him a quick glance, but he didn’t seem to notice.
‘Anyway,’ Briar said, ‘Kynan isn’t likely to suggest seeing me again.’
He’d probably go off and find someone who was less prickly. And good luck to him.
* * *
So she was startled when one day she looked up from serving a customer in the boutique and saw an unmistakable dark head bent over a rack of silk scarves in a corner.
When she had wrapped the customer’s purchase and the woman had left the shop, Kynan turned and smiled at her. ‘So this is where you are,’ he said.
Did that mean his visit was coincidence? She hadn’t told him the name of the shop or exactly where it was. She said, safely, ‘Yes. Can I help you?’
He surveyed her silently for a moment, as though debating what to say. Then he smiled again. ‘Sure. I want to buy someone a present.’
‘A woman?’ There were racks of men’s ties and unisex scarves, but he was in the section containing more obviously feminine wear, and she came out from behind the counter to stand on the other side of the circular display rack.
‘Yes, a woman.’
‘Do you know what colours she likes? What kind of clothes she feels comfortable in? Casual or dressy? And is she dark or fair or—?’
‘Dark,’ he said. ‘Dark-haired, fair-skinned. Brown eyes. She reads Vogue and shops at Saks. Her favourite oufit is a sort of rusty red suit and a blouse with lots of green in it. And she’s just bought herself a red dress.’
He knew a lot about her, Briar thought. She wondered how long he’d known this woman—and how intimately.
Not that it was any concern of hers, of course. As two more people entered the shop, she turned her attention to the scarves, pushing aside a couple of tie-dyed ones and another in blue and green stripes. ‘Perhaps this?’ she suggested, pulling out a big silk square printed with autumn leaves. ‘Or this?’ The pattern was abstract, a daring combination of green, orange and red splashed with black.
‘Mmm,’ he said, fingering the second one. ‘I think she’d like that.’ He took it from her and spread it between his hands, finally nodding. ‘I’ll take it.’
So ‘she’ was no conservative dresser, Briar deduced. ‘Would you like it gift-wrapped? And I can give you a card, if you like.’
‘Thank you.’ He slid a hand into his breast pocket and took out a brown leather wallet. ‘How much?’
He hadn’t looked at the price tags. The scarf wasn’t a cheap one, but he put down a fifty-dollar note on the counter without comment.
Another customer approached, holding two packets of tights. Cutting off a piece of gift-wrap, Briar called through the screened doorway leading to the back of the shop, ‘Pat? Can you serve?’
She deftly wrapped the parcel and was showing Kynan a card for his approval when Pat came in and Kynan looked up, his gaze suddenly arrested.
‘All right?’ Briar prompted him.
He turned to her. ‘Yes. That’s fine.’ His eyes went back to her partner. ‘I hadn’t realised—’
Puzzled, she glanced at the red-headed young man by her side who was serving the other customer. It dawned on her that Kynan had expected her friend and employer to be female.
He was looking at her again now, a peculiarly searching look. She smiled at him blandly and handed him the card. ‘Do you want to write something in it?’
He scrawled, ‘Love, Kynan’ on the inside. She could read it, even upside-down and trying not to. He hadn’t attempted to hide it. She placed the card in the parcel and made a professional job of wrapping it before tucking the fifty dollars in the till and handing him the change.
He picked up the parcel and stood as though weighing it in his hand. Then he said, ‘What time do you finish here?’
‘We lock up at five tonight, and spend about ten minutes cashing up.’
Pat glanced at her curiously as he reached across to the till, and she stepped back to give him room.
Kynan waited until the other transaction was finished, the two people had left, and Pat was moving away to help another customer who was picking up bags and belts at random and replacing them.
‘Come and have a drink with me before you go home,’ Kynan suggested. ‘Or better still, let me take you to dinner.’
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