One Passionate Night

CHAPTER THREE

DANIEL was almost grateful when she gave him the brush-off. What on earth had he been doing, staring at her like that?

Hitting on women had never been his style. On top of that, she was a blonde. One of the bottled variety. Daniel had an aversion to bottled blondes.

To be fair to himself, she wasn’t the usual bottle blonde, the kind his father married. The kind Daniel often met in LA, the ones whose over-bleached, over-teased hair was not the only thing false about them.

Despite the dark roots, this girl’s hair was sleek and simply styled, falling in a straight curtain halfway down her back. There was nothing even remotely false about her face, either, which was as beautiful as it was refreshingly natural. If she was wearing make-up, it had been applied with a light hand. Her skin didn’t need enhancement, anyway, being fine and clear and olive-toned. Her eyes were just as naturally beautiful. Big and blue as the Pacific, with the longest, darkest lashes.

She did have lip gloss on. Her lips had definitely looked extra shiny when he’d stared at them. Shiny and wet and full. The kind of lips made for kissing, and for being kissed by, and for…

Daniel pulled himself up sharply and whirled away from where he’d been standing, still staring after her. It had been a long time since he’d been knocked for six by a woman at first sight. And an even longer time since he had no chance at all in being successful with one he fancied as much as he’d instantly fancied this one.

An intelligent man had to know when a female target was worth pursuing, and when she was not. This girl was getting married tomorrow. He couldn’t expect her to fall at his feet. Couldn’t expect her to respond to him in any way.

Which perhaps was what was still bothering him. Because she had responded to him, hadn’t she? He’d seen the flash of sexual connection in her eyes. He’d spotted the telling tension in her body language. Sensed that she’d been as startled by her attraction to him as he’d been by his for her.

The way she’d blushed when he’d looked her up and down might have been embarrassment. But he suspected not. She was a woman, not some naive young girl.

No, she’d responded to him all right, which was a source of great irritation.

Daniel was not a man who liked to lose at anything in life. But this time, he had to accept defeat gracefully. Had to ignore the signs of mutual attraction and move on. Literally.

With a sigh, he started searching the crowded arrivals area for his sister, deliberately making sure he didn’t go back the way the blonde had gone. The last thing he wanted was to see her throwing her arms around some other man. His male ego was still smarting. His male body wasn’t feeling crash hot, either.

But Beth was nowhere to be found. Yet she should have been here. The plane had been late enough landing.

If Beth had one flaw it was chronic tardiness.

The beeping of his cellphone had Daniel pulling it out and putting it to his ear.

‘Yes, Beth,’ he said drily.

‘I’m sorry, Daniel, but I overslept. I was so excited to see you today that I couldn’t sleep at first last night. So I lay down on the sofa to watch TV and I must have drifted off there. So I wasn’t in my bed to hear the alarm and Vince, of course, would have just banged the button down and gone back to sleep.’

‘Fine. I’ll catch a taxi.’

‘No, no, don’t do that. I am on my way. Have some breakfast in the coffee shop down the far end of Arrivals and I’ll be there in around twenty minutes, OK?’

‘OK,’ he agreed, resignation in his voice.

‘You’re not mad at me?’

‘No.’

‘I’m amazed!’

‘I decided on the plane to be more relaxed in future,’ he informed her with a somewhat ironic smile. Relaxed was not how he was feeling at this moment. Clearly, he needed more practice at being laid-back. And in handling sexual frustration.

‘No kidding. That’ll be a first. Look, I have to hang up. I can’t risk being booked talking on my mobile whilst driving. I’ve already lost three points on my licence for speeding. See you soon. Bye.’

‘Bye,’ Daniel replied into an already dead phone.

Smiling wryly to himself, he slipped the phone into his pocket, then pushed his luggage trolley down to the coffee shop Beth had directed him to. Once he’d ordered a mug of flat white at the counter—he’d had breakfast on the plane—he settled himself at a clean table, stretched his legs out, crossed his arms and started surveying the world passing by.

Bad idea.

For who should be coming towards him but the gorgeous blonde, without a fiancé by her side? She was walking very slowly, with a cute little pink cellphone clamped to her ear, totally unaware of him, her lovely head down, her concentration on the conversation she was having.

Once again, Daniel could not take his eyes off her. Not her face so much this time, but her body, which in slow motion was a sight to behold. His first visual port of call were her breasts—especially in that tight pink top. Full and lush, with perky nipples which even the confines of a bra could not hide. There was nothing wrong with her lower half, either. Small waist. Womanly hips. Flat stomach. Long legs. Slender ankles.

Daniel liked shapely girls in tight jeans, especially hipster jeans that hugged their legs all the way down. He hated flares on a female. He liked to see their ankles. And their feet.

He noticed that she had pretty little feet, shown to advantage in open-toed, high-heeled sandals, her toenails painted the same candy-pink as her top. And her phone.

As she came closer he saw that she was looking pale. Pale and somewhat shaken. Clearly, she was receiving some bad news.

She ground to a halt within listening distance of Daniel’s table. ‘I don’t believe it!’ she cried out. ‘Life couldn’t be that cruel to me!’

Oh-oh. Something serious must have happened to her missing fiancé. As much as Daniel would like the blonde to be footloose and fancy-free, he wasn’t selfish enough to hope her boyfriend had had an accident, or anything horrible like that.

‘The bastard!’ the blonde suddenly spat, and Daniel’s eyebrows shot up.

Nope. Not an accident. The cad just hadn’t shown up. By the sounds of things, he wasn’t about to, either.

Despite his feeling sorry for the girl, all sorts of sexual vistas suddenly opened up before Daniel’s eyes. When his conscience pricked, he ignored it. He was a normal, red-blooded male, after all, not a saint.

‘No, I’ll be all right,’ the blonde said in clipped tones. ‘No, I’m tougher than that. No, of course I’m not going to start crying. I’m in public, for pity’s sake. I’ll wait till I get home first. Or at least in the car.’

But she didn’t wait till she got home. Or even in the car. No sooner had she said goodbye to whoever she was talking to than she burst into tears. Not quiet tears, either. Great, shoulder-racking sobs.

He could understand why the person on the other end of the phone had been worried about her crying.

Thanking fate, Daniel jumped to his feet and rushed to the rescue.

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ he asked as he laid a firm, but gentle hand on one of her shaking shoulders.

Charlotte stiffened, then glanced up through her sodden lashes.

It was him, the handsome American she’d encountered earlier, the one she’d mistaken for Gary, the one who’d stared at her with hot, hungry eyes.

But they weren’t hot, or hungry at the moment. They were looking at her with kindness and concern.

‘Bad news, I gather.’

‘You could say that,’ Charlotte mumbled as she pulled a tissue out of her bag and dabbed at her nose.

‘Look, why don’t you come over and have some coffee with me?’ the American invited, indicating a nearby table. ‘I’m stuck here, waiting for my sister to arrive, and wouldn’t mind a bit of company. Meanwhile, you can tell me why your fiancé didn’t show up.’

Shock made her blink, then blink again. ‘How on earth did you know that?’

‘You told me yourself you’d mistaken me for your fiancé back at the exit gate,’ he explained. ‘There’s no man by your side and you were just crying. It doesn’t take much intelligence to put two and two together.’

‘Oh. Yes, I see,’ she said as she wiped her nose again, then took a deep, gathering breath.

‘So, have you been temporarily stood up?’ he asked. ‘Or fully jilted?’

‘Fully jilted, I’m afraid,’ she said dully, her earlier distress gradually being replaced by despair. How could fate be so cruel? And what on earth was she going to tell her parents?

‘Some men are bloody fools,’ the American said.

Charlotte might have been flattered, if she hadn’t been feeling so devastated.

‘Come on. A cup of coffee will do you the world of good.’

Charlotte was beyond protesting when he took her elbow and led her over to the table. The many-times-bitten part of her knew the American probably had his own agenda in being nice to her. But she wasn’t too worried. They were in public. She was quite safe. If he wanted to buy her a cup of coffee, then he could. She was in no fit state to drive home just yet, anyway.

But she had no intention of telling him a single personal detail. He was a perfect stranger, for heaven’s sake!

The next couple of minutes passed in a blank blur. Charlotte just sat there in a daze whilst the American ordered her a cappuccino. When it arrived soon after his own mug of coffee, he heaped in a couple of spoonfuls of sugar and pushed it over in front of her.

‘Drink up,’ he advised. ‘You need a sugar hit. You’re in shock.’

She did, and soon began to feel marginally better.

‘Thank you,’ she said at last. ‘You were right. I needed that.’

‘Aren’t you going to tell me what happened?’

‘Why on earth would you be interested?’ she countered, just a tad stroppily. Charlotte knew he didn’t really give a damn about her personal pain. He was just trying to pick her up.

His knight-to-the-rescue act. The coffee. His seemingly kind questions. All weapons to get what he wanted. Her.

She’d met his kind before. Overseas visitors who were always on the look-out for female company whilst they were away. He probably had a wife at home, or a live-in lover, or at least a girlfriend. Men who looked and dressed like him were rarely unattached. That suit he was wearing was not of the off-the-peg variety. His gold watch looked expensive as well, as did his gold and diamond dress ring.

He smiled, the gleam in his eyes carrying amusement and admiration. ‘I see you’re already on the road to recovery. That’s good. You’ll survive, then.’

‘That depends on what you mean by survive,’ she retorted. ‘I have my parents driving down to Sydney today to meet my fiancé. Then the rest of my entire family will be arriving tomorrow to attend my wedding. Sisters. Aunts. Uncles. Nieces. Nephews. Cousins. All of them have been dying for me to get married for years. They’re country, you see, and country people think marriage and motherhood is the only true career for a female. At last, I was going to be a success in their eyes…’

Tears threatened again, but she valiantly blinked them back.

‘Tell me what happened with your fiancé,’ he insisted.

She stared hard at him and wondered if she’d been wrong about his intentions. Those expressive eyes of his did seem genuinely sympathetic this time.

‘Nothing much to tell,’ she said with a weary shrug. ‘He’s not coming. The wedding’s off. End of story.’

Again, she had to reach for a fresh tissue. Sympathy always set Charlotte off when she was upset.

He didn’t press her to talk whilst she mopped her eyes once more, and this time she gathered herself more quickly. But as she sat there in wretched silence, having the occasional sip of coffee, Charlotte was suddenly filled with the urge to give vent to her feelings. What did it really matter if he was a stranger? she reasoned as anger started to simmer inside her. Probably better than his being a friend. Most of her friends were sick and tired of hearing about her relationship disasters.

‘Louise was right,’ she bit out, the coffee-cup clattering as she dropped it back into the saucer. ‘He didn’t really love me.’

‘Who’s Louise?’

‘My best friend. We share a flat together.’

‘She was the one on the phone to you just now, I presume.’

My, but he was a very observant man! And extremely intuitive.

She nodded her agreement. ‘Apparently, Gary rang last night and left a message saying he wouldn’t be on the plane and that he’d sent a long email, explaining everything, but we were out very late and didn’t check the answering machine when we came in. Louise saw there was a message after I left this morning. She rang Gary to find out what was going on, but he didn’t answer. I guess it’s the middle of the night over there. So she rang me and I had her have a look at the email he sent.’

‘That would be your missing fiancé’s name? Gary?’

‘Gary Cantrell. And he’s not missing,’ Charlotte ground out bitterly. ‘He’s in LA, with his PA. His pregnant PA, the one who somehow miraculously discovered she was having Gary’s baby the same day he was supposed to be leaving to marry me!’

‘Aah,’ the American said knowingly.

‘Yes. Aaah.’

‘So how long has it been since you and Gary were together?’

‘I haven’t seen him since last June.’

‘That’s eight months ago!’ His shocked tone carried a none too subtle message. Eight months was too long to leave any man on his own, in his opinion.

‘I was faithful to him,’ Charlotte snapped.

‘That’s commendable. But men are not renowned for their faithfulness when their fiancées—or wives—are a world away for such an extended period of time.’

‘Tell me something new.’

‘Why were you apart for so long?’

Charlotte sighed, then gave him a brief run-down on her romance with Gary, leaving out the fact she hadn’t been to bed with him, but including her stupidly going against Gary’s wishes and secretly planning a traditional wedding at a top Sydney hotel.

‘I suppose you don’t know the Regency Royale, being an American,’ she said at this point.

‘The name does ring a bell,’ he replied.

‘It’s one of the plushest hotels in Sydney. Everything there is so expensive. I should be able to cancel the suite I booked for the wedding night, but the reception is a done deal. Know anyone who might want a three-tiered wedding cake and a designer wedding gown? Not to mention a five-day prepaid package holiday up at the Hunter Valley?’

Her father wasn’t the only one who’d wasted a small fortune.

‘Not at the moment. Maybe you can advertise them on the internet. You seem to be able to sell anything there.’

Charlotte groaned. ‘Don’t talk to me about the internet.’

‘Just trying to be practical.’

‘I know what you’re thinking.’

‘What am I thinking?’

‘That internet romances are often little more than fantasies being played out by both parties. They’re not real. Our love for each other wasn’t real.’

‘That is a widely held opinion,’ he said.

‘Maybe that was the case for Gary, but it wasn’t for me. I loved him,’ Charlotte cried. ‘And I was going to marry him tomorrow.’

But even as she proclaimed the depth and sincerity of her love for Gary, Charlotte suspected there had been more than a touch of romantic fantasy about their whole relationship. A touch of desperation on her part as well.

Maybe it was all for the best that she wasn’t marrying Gary.

But that didn’t make her dismay or disappointment any easier to bear.

‘Tomorrow is going to be the worst, most humiliating day of my life,’ she declared, then grimaced. ‘Actually no, today will probably take that prize. I’m supposed to be having lunch with my parents today, to introduce my fiancé in the flesh. I’d do anything in the world not to have to tell my father that the wedding’s off. He’s spent such a lot of money on this wedding, and he’s not a rich man. Just a farmer. I’ll pay him back, of course, but it will take me years on a hairdresser’s pay.’

If only she hadn’t treated herself to a new car last year, or that stupid honeymoon holiday. Her savings account was less than zero, once you factored in her credit-card debt.

With a sigh Charlotte went back to drinking the last of the coffee, her heart sinking lower than it ever had before.

‘Would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight?’

Charlotte’s head shot up, blue eyes widening. ‘Are you serious?’ she said disbelievingly. ‘Haven’t you been listening? I’ve just been jilted. My heart’s been broken. The last thing I want to do is go out with another good-looking, smooth-talking American who’s out here on holiday and who’ll say and do anything to get a girl into bed!’

‘I’m not American, actually,’ he informed her coolly. ‘I’m Australian.’

‘Huh?’

‘I know I sound American,’ he elaborated. ‘That’s because I’ve been living and working in LA for some years. But I was born in Sydney. My mother married an American, you see, and took us there when I was just a baby. My sister, Beth, was born in the States, but we both went to school here in Australia. Beth stayed on afterwards and is now happily married to a Sydney doctor. Speak of the devil, here she is.’

Charlotte glanced up to see a very pregnant lady waddling towards them. She was not unlike her brother in looks, being tall and striking-looking, with dark hair and eyes. At a guess, Charlotte would have put her age at around thirty, with her brother a few years older.

‘I see you haven’t changed, brother dear,’ she said in a decidedly Australian voice before her laughing eyes went to Charlotte. ‘Leave him alone for more than a minute and invariably he’ll zero in on the best looking girl for miles. But be warned, darling. He’s the love ’em and leave ’em type.’

‘Thank you for the recommendation, sister dear,’ her brother said drily as he rose to kiss his sister on the cheek. ‘I’d introduce you if I knew the lady’s name, but she forgot to mention it.’

Charlotte decided this was her cue to escape before she did something stupid, like tell him her name and agree to go to dinner with him tonight. She’d had enough of the love ’em and leave ’em types to last her a lifetime.

Rising to her feet, she hooked her bag over her shoulder and flashed a somewhat brittle smile at him. ‘Thanks for the coffee, but I should be going.’ And she was off in the direction of the exit, striding out as quickly as she could in her high-heeled, backless sandals.

She should have known he would not let her get away that easily.

‘Wait!’ he called out, and raced after her. ‘Don’t take any notice of my sister. She was only joking.’

She stopped and threw him a cynical glance. ‘Are you saying you’re not of the love ’em and leave ’em variety?’

Charlotte glimpsed the flash of guilt in his eyes before he could hide it.

‘Right,’ she said, and went to move on again.

‘At least tell me your name.’

She stopped again to stare up into his handsome face.

Bad mistake.

His eyes had gone back to hot and hungry. Suddenly, she wanted to tell him her name and her phone number; wanted to say yes, I’ll go out to dinner with you. But to do so would be the ultimate of foolishnesses. At thirty-three, it was time she stopped being a fool where men were concerned.

‘I… I don’t think so,’ she said, but unconvincingly.

Before she could say boo, he’d whipped out a business card and Biro.

‘The numbers on this are irrelevant whilst I’m here,’ he said as he balanced the card in his left palm and wrote something on it. ‘But I’ll put my new mobile number on the back. Or you can call me at my sister’s place. Her name’s Beth Harvey. She’s married to Dr Vincent Harvey. He’s an orthopoedic surgeon. They live in Rose Bay and I’ll be staying with them for the next fortnight. They’re in the phone book. Call me if you change your mind,’ he said, and pressed the card into her hand. ‘You’re upset at the moment, but you know and I know that you didn’t really love that Gary guy.’

Their eyes clashed again. Her feminine antennae didn’t just twitch this time. They twanged.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked breathlessly.

‘You know what I mean, beautiful,’ he returned.

Charlotte opened her mouth to deny any such knowledge. But she couldn’t. Because she knew exactly what he meant. How could she have been in love with Gary when this man could make her more aware of being a woman than any man ever had? Her heart was racing and the entire surface of her skin felt as if it was on fire.

She glanced down at the card he’d given her, partly out of curiosity, but mostly to escape those unnervingly magnetic and seductive eyes.

His name was Daniel Bannister. And he was a lawyer, with offices in LA.

Charlotte laughed. She couldn’t help it. Oh, the irony of it all!

‘What’s so funny?’ he asked.

She looked up, her expression quite cynical. ‘Gary was from LA as well. I think I’ve had enough of LA lawyers, don’t you?’

And, shoving the card back into his hand, she whirled on her high heels and fled.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘LOOK, I’m truly sorry, OK?’ Beth apologised. ‘I didn’t mean any harm. I didn’t lie, either. You are the love ’em and leave ’em type. Or so you keep telling me.’

Her brother had hardly spoken to her during the drive back from the airport. Or in the two hours since. As soon as they arrived at the house, he’d taken himself off to the guest suite, where he’d showered and changed, after which he’d settled himself on the back terrace and read the morning paper from beginning to end in frosty silence.

Vince had already left for the surgery by their return, and wouldn’t be home till at least seven tonight, so Beth had the unpleasant prospect of entertaining Mr Grumpy all day by herself. She was almost grateful that she had an appointment with her obstetrician later on.