Bedding The Billionaire (12 page)

"Yes." Nick paused. This could quite
possibly be the most humiliating experience of his life. But it would help him
discover the truth about Abbey. Right now, that was more important than his
dignity. He swallowed. He never thought anything could be that important. But
it was.

"Yes," he said again, straightening. "There's
a girl who, um, may or may not work here."

"Yes?" prompted the woman, Belinda
—
according
to her name tag. She wore a polite but bland expression on her face, just like
every other hotel receptionist around the world.

"Her name's Abbey. I don't know her last
name."

"I don't know any Abbeys. Is she in
housekeeping?"

"Um, no. At least I don't think so."

"Right. Reception?"

"No."

Belinda raised her eyebrows as if to say,
"Well?"

"She's a masseur."

"A masseur?" The eyebrows nearly flew off
her face.

"She gives massages to your guests." Nick
could feel his face heating up.
Control, Delaware, get a grip.

"I don't think we offer that kind of service to
our guests," said Belinda, a hint of amusement in her otherwise polite
voice.

"Is your manager here?"

"No. But I'm sure we can clear this up without
involving him. What sort of massages does she give?"

Belinda was clearly amused now and Nick's temper was
heating up. So was his face.

"The usual kind. Not…the other sort." Well,
only with him. He hoped.

"Other sort?"

"Yes, you know." Nick waved his hand in the
air. "The other sort. The sort you don't tell your wife about."

Belinda's mouth twitched. "Of course. Let me get
this straight. You're after an employee named Abbey who gives massages, but
not
the kind of massage you can't tell your wife about. Is that it?"

"More or less."

"Mr. Vane, I think I can say on behalf of Le
Meridian that we don't offer massages of any kind. However, if a woman is
posing as hotel staff and charging for massages, of a kind you
can
tell
your wife about
—
"

"She doesn't charge."

Belinda's brown eyes widened. "Free
massages?"

"Yes. Compliments of hotel management."

"I
think there's been a mistake, Mr. Vane."

"So do I. I'm sorry I took up your time."

Nick strode away, blood rushing in his ears. He'd
never felt like a bigger fool.

"Ah, Mr. Vane."

He turned round and Belinda waved him back to the
desk.

"What?"

She leaned forward on the desk, her chin in her hand.
The politely bland expression replaced by a flirtatious one.

"If you need a massage, I'm sure we can arrange
one. Of either kind." She smiled wickedly then winked.

Nick cleared his throat. "Thanks." He turned
and walked quickly to the elevator.

Back in his room, he closed the door and leaned
against it. At least he knew for sure that Abbey was lying.

Now he just had to figure out why.

***

Abbey sipped her gin and tonic and settled back into
the chair on the balcony of her Armadale apartment. The view wasn't spectacular
—
just
the leaves of the trees from the house next door
—
but she didn't
care. Her mind was still on that afternoon at the beach. And the man she'd
slept with yet again.

She'd been a fool she told herself. A damn fool for
letting it get this far. It was supposed to be just sex. Nothing more than a
roll in the hay with a stranger.

But Abbey's heart was telling her otherwise.

"Forget about him, Abbey Girl," said Lucy,
holding the neck of a beer bottle. She threw her head back and swallowed a
mouthful.

"He's an S.O.B. He can't keep it in his pants,
and you just happen to be the lucky girl in Melbourne. Or the unlucky
one."

Abbey sighed. "I know that." She did. She
really did know it.

Dusk had settled serenely across Melbourne and its
suburbs. The quiet hum of traffic in the background provided a distant reminder
of where they were, but the surrounding trees and orange-tinged sky made it
feel like the middle of nowhere.

Abbey loved her apartment. Located in one of
Melbourne's better suburbs, rent was expensive and the space miniscule, but it
was close to everything and the surrounding million-dollar mansions made her
feel wealthy.

She was far from it. They couldn't even afford a pizza
between the two of them, so Abbey had to cook. Something she hated doing. Something
Lucy refused to do, so she'd watched, sitting on a stool at the kitchen bench,
sipping her beer as Abbey threw the entire contents of her fridge into a wok. The
stir fry wasn't bad but it was rather bland.

Now, as she sat on the balcony, she wondered what
Damien was eating. Had he gone back to the restaurant where she'd performed her
fancy footwork on him?

She laughed quietly at the memory.

"What's so funny?"

Abbey shrugged. "Just thinking about last night
at the restaurant."

Lucy snickered. Abbey had told her about that too.

"Bet he'll never be able to dine out again
without thinking of you."

Abbey grinned. "That could get
embarrassing."

"Good."

Abbey sighed again.

"Forget about him," Lucy said. "The
guy's a creep. You deserve someone better."

"Do I?"

Lucy moved her chair closer to Abbey's and put an arm
around her. "Of course you do. And you'll find him one day. A guy who's
programmed
not
to cheat on his wife. A guy who's not an arrogant
pig."

"Do they exist?"

Lucy smiled. "I'm hardly the girl to answer that
now, am I."

Abbey laughed then sobered. "I've been really
stupid, this time, haven't I?"

"This time? Nah. You've done some far more stupid
things."

"Like putting up with Tarken for two years?"

"Yeah. Wonder what he's doing now that he's lost
the only person who knows how to run that office?"

Abbey grinned. "Hopefully getting fired."

"Hopefully getting dumped by Melinda."

Abbey shook her head. "She wouldn't. She's too
nice. Poor girl. She doesn't know what he's like."

"Neither did you, remember?"

Abbey shrugged. "You're right, and I should
listen to you more, oh Wise Woman."

Lucy squared her small shoulders and puffed out her
chest. "That's right. You should. And this Wise Woman is telling you to
forget about Damien Vane, and get back into your life. Go get yourself a
job."

Abbey saluted. "Yes, Ma'am."

"I mean it, Abbey Girl," said Lucy slumping
back into her chair. "Damien's a jerk. Guys who cheat on their wives
always are. You need to treat them the way they treat women
—
like
they're not important. It's the only way they learn."

Abbey dragged a hand over her face and through her
hair. Salt water and a stiff breeze had turned it into a mass of uncontrolled
curls.

"I shouldn't have had sex with him in the water
today," she said. "I wasn't going to, but the heat of the moment just
took over."

Lucy giggled. "No you shouldn't have, but you're
one up on me. I've never done it in front of a beach full of people."

Abbey felt her face color. "Did anyone
notice?"

Lucy shook her head. "Just me. And boy, was I
getting turned on watching you two. I was ready to drag that guy off when you
returned."

Abbey's face burned. "You're impossible,"
she said. "And you can do better than that gorilla. The guy had muscles
where there shouldn't be any."

Lucy giggled then sobered. "Seriously Abbey,
maybe you shouldn't have had sex with Vane today, but what's done is done. Now
just forget about him." She squeezed her friend's arm. "Once you get
a job you'll feel more like yourself and you'll realize what an idiot you've
been."

"Gee, thanks."

"Any time."

Abbey knew she meant well. It's just that she didn't
think getting back into the routine of life was going to make her forget about
Damien so easily. Not if the cold stab in the vicinity of her heart was
anything to go by.

The phone in Lucy's bag rang and she ran inside to get
it. A few moments later she was out on the balcony again.

"That was the gorilla from the beach."

"You gave him your number?"

"Sure, why not. He wants to see me tonight."

"Are you going?"

Lucy shrugged.

"Go on, off you go. I'm fine."

Lucy sat down again. "I'm not leaving you. You
need a friend right now. Besides, I don't know if I liked him all that much,
now that I think about it."

"Since when did you have to like them?"

Lucy grinned. "Maybe you're beginning to rub off
on me."

"I wish you'd rub off on me. I wish I could just
have meaningless sex and not get emotionally involved. A few days ago I thought
I could but it seems I'm just not wired that way."

"That's because you're doing it wrong. You need
to pick a guy you have absolutely no interest in. Someone like the gorilla
whose vocabulary consists of monosyllabic words only. That way there's no
danger of getting emotionally involved because the only emotion he can express
involves sex and beer. Possibly at the same time."

Abbey giggled.

"Hey, I've got an idea. How about I hook you up
with one of mine?"

"That's very generous of you, Lucy," Abbey
said with a wry smile, "but I don't think so."

"Why not?" Lucy looked thoughtfully up at
the rapidly darkening sky. Her face brightened and she turned back to her
friend. "How about Mick the plumber? His hands are rough, but he's got a
large dick. And as an added bonus, he'll unclog your sink."

Abbey laughed. "No thanks."

"Okay, what about Lance? Sensitive new age guy. He
recites poetry when he's climaxing. Actually, on second thoughts, he's not a
good idea. The last thing you need right now is a sensitive man."

"I don't need any man, thank you."

"Don't be silly. Listen to me
—
I know
you better than you know yourself. Okay, there's a guy I met about a month ago
at the races. He's got a huge gambling problem so he can't buy you dinner, but
he will give you a good tip. Or there's Vaughn. Well hung, knows all the best
moves and is as supple as a gymnast." Lucy paused. "On second
thoughts, I think I'll keep that one for myself."

Abbey giggled. "Stop it, Lucy, this is
serious."

"I know! Why don't you take the gorilla? You're
completely incompatible so he'd be perfect. No chance you'd fall for a moron
like him."

"Lucy!"

Lucy held up her hands. "Okay, okay. I
tried."

Abbey nodded, still smiling. "Thanks, but I think
I'll wallow in self pity for awhile."

Lucy glared at her but said nothing. Abbey breathed a
sigh of relief. She meant well, but Lucy didn't understand how she felt. She
didn't really understand it herself, but she knew it was more than just sex.

As unlikely as it seemed, she had feelings for Damien
Vane.

And that scared her more than anything.

Tarken hated these things. Not only were they dull,
but software demonstrations were something only computer geeks could get a kick
out of. He was an administrator, a manager, not an I.T. specialist. That's why
he'd brought Donaldson along
—
to talk geek-talk. Tarken was at the
Crown Complex software seminar to talk numbers. Donaldson didn't have a clue
about money, but he knew everything about software. Tarken knew everything
about money and nothing about computers, except how to read and send email. Together
they made a formidable team.

Which was good, because the sooner they cut through
the sales crap, the sooner they could leave. There were only three software
packages relevant to the health care and pharmaceuticals industry, and they'd
already had demos of two of them. Software Solutions was the last.

Donaldson pointed to the stand and they headed that
way. There seemed to be only one person standing there. Good, that meant they
could railroad the salesman with questions and figures, put him on the back
foot and get him to commit to a deal in their favor on the spot. Then they
could get out of there.

"Excuse me, we'd like a demonstration," he
said in his most authoritative voice.

The man turned around and Tarken took a step back,
crashing into Donaldson. "You! What are you doing here?"

It was the man he'd seen having dinner with Abbey. His
Abbey.