Daniel's Bride (3 page)

“He’s determined to save them. He can’t bear to see the
family name dragged down and he can’t bear to see your father’s offspring
become…” Hugh stopped but Daniel knew what he’d been about to say. Sean and
Everett were cut out of a mold the Christies had never encountered before.
True, their father, Duncan, had resented being born into the family but he’d
taken his position in the firm and he’d played his part, even though he’d
loathed every minute of it until his unexpected death ten years ago. Sean and
Everett were something else altogether.

“Frankly, this is killing Arthur.” Hugh rubbed his palms
roughly down his face. “It’s no coincidence that since he had the boys
followed, his health has failed further. And that worries me. It worries me a
hell of a lot.”

Daniel felt something slip away from him. There was only one
person responsible.
Himself
. If he’d kept better control over his
brothers, they wouldn’t have fallen apart, succumbed to the temptations that kids
with too much money and no sense were easy victims of. He should have seen it,
reined them in, sorted them out so that Arthur didn’t have to pay some stranger
to keep tabs on them.
He was their older brother
.

Nausea cemented in his stomach and he breathed in against
the sudden light-headedness. He’d failed them. The buck had just stopped and it
was up to him to fix this for his grandfather.

Before it was too late.

A week away in the tent had not provided Mel with the enlightenment
she’d been hoping for over which direction to head with her life. All it had
done was blast home that she had utterly wasted those days getting in touch
with nature and wallowing in her own pity when she could have been job hunting
and looking for a place to live. She’d been out of a job two months now, used
up her savings and her holiday pay. Being a school counselor was not a high
paying job at the best of times and with government cut backs in the education
sector, the chance of getting a decent position was close to zero. Last week
she’d emailed applications to be a barista, an assistant at a souvenir store,
and a receptionist at a podiatrist’s surgery. She hadn’t even been granted an
interview and had been told by one agency she was overqualified.

To top it off, her tenancy was almost up. She already had
half her gear packed in boxes, ready to cram into the small storage unit she
was about to rent. She had barely enough money to put down on an apartment,
even if she got a job by the end of the week. Of course, she’d get the deposit
money back from the landlord when she handed him the key but it wouldn’t last
long.

She was broke. And there was no one else she could blame.

With frustration, she pushed open the door of her flat,
dropped her keys on the table and went through to the lounge where the packing
was taking place. Not everything was hers. She glanced at a box labeled
Salvation Army, filled with Julia’s things. Her clothes, her books, her
crockery from the kitchen. Julia hadn’t had much time to pack up her stuff.
After all, when you left by stealth with your flatmate’s boyfriend –
fiancé
– it hardly left any time to get organized.

Mel bypassed the box.

The worst thing of all was just how much her life had
revolved around the new future she’d been planning, the new married life that
had vanished down the drain in a gurgle of vile water. Just thinking about the
things Max had said in his note, the reasons he’d wanted out of their
relationship…

She shivered and concentrated on sorting a stack of
paperbacks. When she had to leave the flat, she could stay with her mother a
few nights. There was a couch in her mother’s tiny apartment, and Ellie would
still assume Mel was getting over the pain of being jilted. She grimaced as she
sorted the novels into a keeper and giveaway pile. She’d shied away from
relating the whole sordid story and had kept her flatmate’s name out of it.

Ellie Green had enough to contend with, without worrying
about the mess her only daughter had gotten herself into.

The phone rang suddenly, shrill in the silence, and Mel
hesitated. It could be a telemarketer. Or it could be her mother, or even the
rest home.

She cursed her cost saving when she’d gotten rid of caller
ID, picked up the phone and tucked it under her chin. “Melinda Green speaking.”

  It was Daniel.

Mel took a bite of her hamburger and used a paper napkin to
wipe away a dribble of ketchup from her chin. Steak, tomato and lettuce, a warm
bun, pickles, tons of sauce – what more could you want?

She took a sip of cola - diet cola – from the paper cup, set
it back in the holder, and glanced discreetly at Daniel. What she’d give to
read his mind now, right this minute, as they sat on hard plastic seats in a
stadium with sports crazed fans surrounding them. Most of them were vocal; a
lot of them were just plain drunk. She took another bite of hamburger. This was
the dinner he’d promised her?

Not that she was complaining when it was the most excitement
she’d be getting for a while. Their thighs had touched before and brief as it
was, she hadn’t wanted the feeling to end. But watching a game meant they
weren’t getting to talk and in the days since he’d phoned, imagining their
dinner had been a welcome distraction from everything else. In complete violation
of the rest home rules which stated no visitors allowed she had spent last
night at her mother’s apartment. It had been a trial run, being her mother’s
new roomie, and it would be fine; in a fortnight, she’d have no choice.

Daniel finished off his hamburger and began to tuck into the
rest of his fries. She was drawn to his profile, to the way his hair sat around
his neck, the way his jaw moved as he slowly chewed, the short lines around his
eyes as he focused on the game. Her gaze dipped. The t-shirt emphasised his
flat stomach, sitting nicely around muscular arms and wide, powerful shoulders.
He leant forward, and the t-shirt slipped up from his jeans. Beneath it, a nice
tanned section of male skin. He sat back, and finished off his fries. How did
he manage to eat that stuff and not get fat?

The crowd roared and she jumped in shock. Around them people
rose to their feet, Daniel went with them and Mel followed suit, not sure what
she was meant to be looking at.

She stared at the field, and at the players running around
on the green turf. Suddenly a player was brought to the ground in a tackle, a
collective groan rose in the crowd, and she sat back down with relief, and
consoled herself with the rest of the hamburger.

“I take it you’re enjoying that?” Daniel commented.

Mel froze, mid chew. Heat rose startlingly quick up her neck
as she turned to face him.

He pointed to an area to the right of his mouth. “You’ve got
something…”

She grabbed her paper napkin and dabbed, and for good measure
dabbed the other side, and took a sip of cola to wash away the shame. Not that
she was out to impress him, but she didn’t have to embarrass herself.

“It’s delicious,” she said finally. “Yummy. I haven’t had a
hamburger in ages.”

“It wasn’t bad at all,” he agreed. He screwed up his wrapper
and took his cup from the holder.

And that was the thing. If you were going to bring a girl
out on a date, wouldn’t you go to some swanky French restaurant with four
courses, a waiter who draped a fine linen napkin across your lap, and served
wine in crystal flutes? The Christies were loaded - she’d Googled them. When
he’d said his name was Daniel Christie she hadn’t for a second assumed he was
actually one of
those
Christies. But he was. They weren’t the flashy rich
who paraded themselves at functions or indulged in scurrilous activities and
married supermodels. They were far too conservative and old money for that. But
they packed impressive financial punch, gave heavily to charity, and appeared
to have inherited one heck of a mighty gene pool, judging from the photos that
had come up on line. Even the great grandfather in the grainy sepia shot was
pretty easy on the eye.

“You’re not enjoying yourself, are you,” Daniel remarked. It
was a voice that was neither accusing nor disappointed. For such emotive words,
in fact, it was said with amazing blandness.

“I’m enjoying myself.” She took another sip of cola.

He ran a considering gaze over her. “I thought you’d like
football. You were wearing a football shirt at the campground and I noticed you
had supporters’ stickers on your car bumper.”

Mel closed her eyes a second. Of course he would think that.
It all made perfect sense now. Except that it was her
mother
who was the
huge fan, relying on the cable TV Mel insisted she have to indulge her passion
for the game.

“I’ve watched a lot of sport in my time,” she told him
diplomatically. “My mother is one of those crazy supporters with all the
scarves and the posters and the coffee cups and…” She stopped. She didn’t need
to impart personal information to him. Didn’t need him to know that it was the
one thing that kept her mother sane, and when she was learning how to get her
life back on track, it counted for a lot.

She took the final sip of her cola, and he glanced at the scoreboard
and said, “Looks like we lost.” He stood up, slid effortlessly into his leather
jacket, and held out his hand. “Let’s go.”

She put her hand in his. Heat pulsed through her as he
pulled her up. Everyone around them was getting up from the hard seats, too. He
said, “I’m only sorry I couldn’t deliver a win for your team.”

“Our team,” she corrected in between praying he didn’t ask
her to name which teams had played.

He dropped her hand. Her skin still tingled, still felt hot.
He smiled the amused smile that could have been from a brother to a sister. Her
heart dipped even further. “Of course. Our team. Let’s go.”

They walked out of the grounds, people rushing past, some a
little worse for wear after indulging in the obscenely priced liquor. Daniel took
her hand again. “So we don’t get lost,” he remarked, as a particularly
rambunctious group of young men, rejoicing in their team’s win, jostled past.
“I hear it was a sell-out.”

Mel glanced at his hand, and found herself mesmerised by the
sight, and by the feel. His hand was large and warm, with a grip that said
possession without control. She suddenly noticed women watching them both and
her spirits lifted. Maybe they thought she was his girlfriend. His lover even.

Or maybe, she thought as he said, “Whoa” when she came close
to stepping over the curb, they figured she was his poor simple sister and he
had to hold on to her so she didn’t wander off and get run over. Her spirits
were taking a rapid dive when a voice called, “Daniel?”

An older man, gray hair on the cusp of turning white, walked
towards them, a surprised grin on his face

A supporter’s scarf draped his neck even though the evening
was almost warm.

“Hugh. Why am I not surprised?” They shook hands and Daniel
introduced them. “Hugh Devereaux, this is my… that is, she’s…” His gaze fixed
on Mel a long moment, as if trying to figure out what to call her. Similarly,
her mind had reached a total blank.

“Friend,” he said finally. “And Mel, this is Hugh Devereaux.
Hugh is a family friend and our company lawyer.”

“Charmed, Melissa.” Hugh took her hand, bent and kissed it.
“Or is it Melanie?”

Daniel sighed wearily, and Mel grinned, instantly warming to
the handsome, older man. “No, it’s Melinda. But call me Mel.”

“Mel it is. It’s good to meet any female friend of Daniel’s.
A rare occurrence.”

Really? She stared at Daniel who looked as if he’d heard the
comment a million times and was heartily sick of it. Surely he had women
friends all over the place, just waiting for the nod.

Hugh turned his attention to Daniel, his bushy eyebrows
raised impossibly high above light blue eyes. “What on earth brings you to the
park, Dan? You detest football. What made you see the light?”

Daniel’s face tightened. “I owed Mel,” he said briskly.
“Mel’s the supporter.”

Alarm settled like a fog across her. He’d brought her here
only because he thought she was the footie fan? She didn’t mind it but that was
only for her mother.

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself a…” She swallowed, and stared
back at him. “You mean you don’t really like football?”

Daniel waggled his hand in a fifty-fifty gesture.

“He loathes it,” Hugh put in.

“Loathe is an exaggeration,” Daniel told her. “I prefer to
channel my physical energies into other things. I rowed at varsity and I whack
a squash ball around the court now and then. Suits me fine.”

She dropped her gaze to his broad shoulders. She could
imagine him rowing. He looked like a rower, now she thought of it. All that
power and muscle, not to mention the determination to row mile after mile,
water glistening off his skin, sun hitting his body. The power in his thighs…

He turned to her, and his eyes glimmered as if he had read
her mind.
Impossible
. Hugh slapped Daniel on the back. “At least his
allegiance lies with the family firm, not with a team that darn well lost a
match they should have won.”

Daniel gestured ahead. “Hugh, how about a lift home? I
assume you caught a taxi.” They were out on the main road now, and he said,
“We’re parked up here, it’s not far to walk. And I’ll be dropping Mel off back
at her place.”

Hugh glanced straight at her and his gaze held a curious
fraction. It was loaded with enough questions that she felt like an ant under a
magnifying glass. Daniel seemed ambivalent to the speculation as Hugh agreed,
“I’ll take you up on it. It’ll save me a taxi fare.”

Mel noted his tailored jacket and trousers, and leather
shoes that looked out of a GQ fashion shoot. He looked as if the last thing
he’d ever need to worry about would be the cost of a taxi fare.