Every Girl's Secret Fantasy (13 page)

When his eyes locked with hers, his expression was taken aback, and the smile slid from her face like ice off a plate. Then he smacked his forehead and cursed under his breath.

Her stomach clenched and a massive lump formed in her throat.

He'd
forgotten
? That wasn't possible. He'd seemed so keen this morning. As keen as she'd been. But his reaction and attire said he had other plans. No one wore a tuxedo around the house.

Swallowing against the lump, Phoebe tacked up the heavy corners of her mouth. “We're still on for tonight, right?”

He snatched a kiss from her cheek, then absently checked his gold cufflinks. “Something's come up. Something I can't get out of. I, uh…” He checked his links again. “I have to work late tonight at Brodricks.”

Her brows lifted. “You have to work late in a dinner suit?”

He caught the time on his watch and squared shoulders that looked all the more magnificent in that perfectly fitting dinner jacket. “I'm sorry, but I don't have
time right now.” He threw a look back over his shoulder. “You can stay if you want.”

Her heart dropped.

If you want?

She recovered as quickly as she could from the
thunk
. “No, no, I'm good,” she said. If she were being dismissed, she wasn't about to sit around, chomping on her nails, wondering when his car would rumble up the drive. She'd go crazy.

Her throat backed up with sudden tears, she shrugged. What was there left to say?

“Guess I'll see you later.”

“You mean tomorrow?” He tugged an ear, thinking, then announced, “That might be best.” He held her shoulders and searched her eyes with a determination that rekindled some of her hope. “I can't get out of this.”

From the lounge room, a phone rang out. He turned on his heel to catch it, then, as an afterthought, swung back to drop another kiss on her cheek. He squeezed her arm. “I'll call.”

A moment later Phoebe was walking back to her car on rubbery legs, alone and dazed. The same words kept swirling through her mind.
What had just happened?
Her more rational side told her to chill. Pace had an important business engagement that he'd forgotten about. Simple.

But he'd also forgotten to call her today. Had forgotten she was coming over tonight. Normally he would seduce her with his eyes the moment they saw each other again. The intent had always rippled off him in hot, shimmering waves, drawing her in, making her melt.

Not so long ago it had seemed she couldn't get rid of him.

A disturbing thought crept into the curling edges of her mind. Biting a thumbnail, she cast a questioning look back over her shoulder.

Was he really working late? Or did he have another less professional appointment to rush off to?

She slid inside her car, moisture filling her eyes and raw emotion choking off her air. Wringing her hands on the steering wheel, she breathed all the way in, then out, while telling her thumping heartbeat to quieten. She'd never felt more devastated in her life. Which was over the top.

Nevertheless, wanting to curl up into a ball, she groaned.

Oh, God, she wasn't thinking straight. This minute the most logical plan she could come up with was knocking on his door again and asking if he still cared for her. Of course he did. He
must
.

But how much? Clearly not as much as she cared for him. He wasn't sitting somewhere shaking, wondering if this was the beginning of the end.

Forcing herself to get a grip, she sat taller.

Okay. Obvious call. This was the time to bow out. She was feeling way too much, way too deeply. She'd wondered if the fireworks might weaken after they'd been together a few times. She hated to think about it, but…

Maybe they had for him.

 

Pace stood inside the glass enclosure, unseen by the black tie crowd milling outside the Brodricks building. A ball of nerves rolled around in his stomach. Soon he'd
be out there, addressing business associates, industry gurus and clients. A second chance.

And his brother would be standing beside him.

Pace swung his jacket off the rack and thrust his arms through the sleeves.

He and Nick were both determined to make this work. Pace had verbally committed his private resources to help haul Brodricks out of its current hole. And once the brothers had sat down with Derrick Wilson and discussed the options calmly the prognosis hadn't looked quite as dim. Reshaping was needed, and a cutback in stock, as well as a general tightening of belts. But it was doable.

None of that meant he—or Nick for that matter—needed to give up on plans to pioneer a luxury car which some day would proudly bear the Brodricks badge. Still, any further plans in that direction would kick off only after they were soundly back on their feet, and they'd do it as a team.

Fidgeting with his tie, Pace found a grin.

With Nick on his side, and vice versa, Pace was more than ready to do this job right. He'd never thought this day would come, but now it was here he was almost grateful that the company had hit this pothole. God knew how much longer he and Nick would have clung onto past grievances if not for this glitch. Now, rather than competing, they were committed to working together.

As brothers should.

After running a hand down his satin lapels, taking in one last settling breath, Pace fanned back the door. When the bustle of the crowd and the music hit him, he remembered where he'd been the same time last
night…in his bedroom, with the woman who was as insatiable for him as he was for her.

He'd felt like mud when Phoebe had knocked on his door earlier. She'd looked so gutted. But he hadn't forgotten her…not completely. He'd remembered during the day to call, but had postponed when he'd become distracted again with Nick and Derrick Wilson. His mind had been ticking over so fast when he'd got home…

Setting off, Pace shouldered his way through the crowd.

None of that was an excuse for breaking their date. Neither did he have a choice. Things had changed. Changed dramatically. He'd get tonight out of the way—discussions with Nick were bound to leach into the early hours—and he would call Phoebe in the morning. By this time tomorrow everything would be out in the open and they could resume where they left off.

If
she didn't hate him for keeping the truth behind his identity under wraps, and
if
she could accept he wouldn't have nearly as much time as he'd used to.

He'd been too easily distracted five years ago, the first time round. Now he was determined to put his all into succeeding—just as his father had. Brodricks and Nick needed him as much as he needed them. No more slacking off. No more bickering. Nose to the grindstone two hundred percent. Making this place strong again—redeeming himself—was his number one priority.

This time nothing would stand in his way.

A
FTER
an hour driving aimlessly around, Phoebe came to a decision—one she didn't feel wholly right about but was committed to nonetheless.

Now, as she swerved the BMW into Brodricks, her tummy somersaulted. The car park was packed, filled with every kind of luxury car, many with uniformed drivers perched, waiting, behind their wheels. Subtle strains of music lilted in the background. Colourful arcs from strobe lights—purple, yellow and blue—fanned from a giant marquee erected beyond the extensive Brodricks building.

Easing out from the car cabin, Phoebe rubbed her damp palms together. She'd come to see if Pace were here. Whether he was indeed working late. She hadn't expected this spectacle.

But now it made sense. Pace had said he needed to work late at Brodricks. A black tie function. The boss had probably flung him a “must attend” ticket late this afternoon. Maybe he had to make some sort of speech or presentation. That was why he'd seemed hassled.

A chilly pre-winter breeze ruffled her knee-length hem and her toes curled in their strappy heels. Now she knew he had a legitimate reason for his attire and
behaviour this evening she wondered if she should get back in her car, give him his space and wait for his call. She didn't want him to think she was spying. Even though she was.

And, heck, now she was here…

Maybe when this affair was over they could do something together. Get back to that good place where they both liked to be. Where nothing mattered but being together.

Another breeze stirred around her feet. Hugging herself against the cool, she hurried towards a twinkling arbour where a young uniformed man extended his hand in friendly greeting.

“Brodricks is pleased you could join us…”

As the man went on, Phoebe held up a hand. She wasn't a guest. Not exactly.

“I'm with Pace Davis.” The man's brows jumped. Apparently he needed more information. “Pace is Chief Technical Adviser here.”

The man checked his list and, satisfied, ushered her through. Amid the crush of evening gowns and suits, an eager waiter fell upon her.

“Care for refreshment, ma'am?”

She shook her head. “But could you tell me where I could find Pace Davis? He's wearing a tuxedo—” She glanced around and blushed. “Right. Of course. Everyone is. But he's very tall, with very dark hair and—”

At that moment the music died and all heads swung towards a striking-looking man who waited behind a microphone on the stage.

“Good evening, everyone,” the man at the microphone said. “Thank you for coming to what I know
will be a special evening for us all. I'm Nicholas Brodrick—”

The waiter leaned towards Phoebe and whispered, “He's the boss.”

Phoebe nodded, unable to do anything other than follow the crowd's lead and focus on the spokesperson; she knew his name from the sponsorship agreement.

As Nicholas Brodrick talked on about interesting new directions and challenging economic times, for some strange reason she felt they'd met. His face…something in his expression…seemed familiar.

She shrugged the prickling feeling off.

Most likely she'd bumped into him the other week when she'd come to collect her car. Still, his smile—subtle yet compelling—she felt almost close to.

“This is a very special and interesting time,” he was saying, “not only from a business perspective but also a personal one. I've been President of Brodricks these past three years. Tonight I'd like to welcome my new co-president to the stage. It's my honour to welcome back to the top chair someone who knows this business inside and out.”

On tiptoe, Phoebe scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces. This news was likely interesting to others here, but she only wanted to track down Pace. Maybe a better idea would be to surprise him and be there waiting when he showed up at his place later. Surely this event wouldn't go past midnight? She was used to staying up with Pace much later than that.

Nick Brodrick continued. “Some of you will be familiar with him. Until today he was our Chief Mechanic and Technical Adviser—”

Phoebe's ears pricked.

Technical Adviser? This man was introducing
Pace
?

“Please make welcome,” the man elaborated, “the new co-president of Brodricks Prestige Cars…my brother…Davis Brodrick!” The man raised his hands in welcome and everyone applauded. Everyone—

—except Phoebe.

Her hands were poised and ready, but her expression dropped. Perhaps she hadn't heard correctly. She didn't understand. Words seemed to be messed up in her brain. Had that man said Davis Brodrick? But
Pace
was the Chief Technical Adviser here.

Amidst the stir, Phoebe caught a glimpse of a tall, athletically built man cleaving his way through the crowd with the force of a mighty god parting the sea. With lights beating and music blaring a fanfare, the cacophony continued to usher the man of the moment in. When Phoebe caught a good look at the face—the coal-black hair, those electric blue eyes…

The strength left her body. She felt king-hit. Remembering how he'd chased her, how he'd said he wasn't playing, how he might as well have pushed her out through the door tonight…

Her vision tunnelled and her knees gave way.

The waiter managed his tray with one hand while catching her with the other as she slid towards the ground. His glasses rattling, he rasped, “Lady, are you all right?”

Her surroundings pulled in and out. Colours faded; sounds too. The applause regressed into a muffled din that fogged her mind while faces faded out. Everyone—
everything
—seemed to be laughing at her.

The man on stage—
Pace's brother?
—spoke again.

“Davis Brodrick, ladies and gentlemen.”

Phoebe found her balance and forced her mind to work.

Pace was related to the Brodricks? The family who'd acquired a fortune over the last two decades via their prestige automobile links?

She closed her eyes and her fingers began to tingle.

He'd slept with her—so many times—but he hadn't bothered to mention his real name. Had he ever planned to tell her? Was she the only one on the planet who
hadn't
known?

She held her cheeks as her face began to burn.

She'd thought she had it so together. She was nothing but a first-class fool.

The noise of the party filtered through the haze. Gathering herself, only knowing that she needed to escape, she headed for the exit at the same time as Pace's gaze caught hers. Through the animated crowd she saw his face darken, his square jaw clench, and the burning anxiety condensing in her stomach shot up the back of her throat.

Whether he'd seen her or not, she expected him to continue on to the stage. She prayed that he would. She couldn't face him. Her mind was whirling so much she wouldn't know what to say, what to do.

When his paused step detoured and arrowed straight for her Phoebe's palms began to sweat. Then he was standing in front of her while intrigued spectators paused in their applause to suss out this new twist.

While Phoebe stood frozen—
crushed
—Pace flung a black look around at the entranced audience and, catching her elbow, steered her off to a quiet spot away from the glares.

The murmuring grew, and then she heard Nick Brodrick apologise into the microphone, asking for everyone's patience. Pace set his hands on the brick wall either side of her head and drilled her eyes like a provoked warden.

“What are you doing here?”

Phoebe couldn't block the inappropriate urge to laugh. This was so bizarre. Maybe there was a cup of tea she could drink that would make everything in upside-down-land go right side up again.

She held her brow, the remains of a stunned smile stamped on her face.

He wanted to know what
she
was doing here?

She shook her head. “I—I don't really know.” She'd come to check up on him, then to wait for him. Now…“All I know is…I need to go.”

Pressing a palm to her churning stomach, she ducked to leave, but he herded her back in.

“I was going to explain,” he said.

She swallowed against the rock wedged high in her throat. “Then me coming here saved you time.”

“I didn't lie to you. I
am
Pace Davis.” His brow creased. “It was a business decision made years ago.”

She followed her own logic. “And I was
business
?”

His mouth tightened. “It's a long, complicated story.”

“We all have one of those. I didn't keep mine from you.”

And her past would have been a whole lot harder to talk about than admitting that you were some filthy rich hotshot who for some reason wanted to hide behind another name. Her body, her heart, felt so heavy. She'd never felt more betrayed.

She swallowed against the choking ache in her wind-pipe. “What's this all about, Pace? Who are you?”

The light reflecting in his eyes flared before he stood back and straightened. He was so tall and broad and masterful she felt dwarfed by his presence.

“I'm the second son of Nicholas Brodrick Senior, founder of Brodricks Prestige Cars. When my father died he bequeathed ownership to both Nick, my brother, and I, but I was to take the president's chair. Nick wasn't happy. And neither was I…completely. The industry side of the business I loved—the engineering aspects, the travel, test-driving and importing the most expensive, coveted automobiles in the world. But I wasn't so keen on immersing myself in the daily grind of figures and endless board meetings. That was Nick's forte.”

Pressing her lips together, Phoebe caught a sob. She'd thought she'd known him. She'd known
nothing
. She might as well be looking at a stranger. She'd been sleeping with someone, sharing everything she was, with a man who'd worn a mask.

Her voice cracked. “Why didn't you tell me all this before?”

His fractious look said he was telling her now. “I stepped down from the company's limelight three years ago and Nick stepped up. Today I learned that Brodricks is in trouble again. If it's going to survive, Nick and I need to work together.”

Holding her brow, Phoebe tried to take in all the turns. “Why the alias?”

He hesitated a moment, and in the shadows she saw his eyes darken. “When I stepped down from the presidency it was with egg on my face. I needed to dodge the media spotlight. So I put a spin on my name to get
them off my heels before I went overseas. The name stuck when I came back.”

“And now?”

“Now you know everything.”

Not everything. “What does this mean for us?”

“Nothing's changed.” His chin came down. “Other than I'll need to spend more time here at work until things settle.”

“How long?”

“A year. Two. I don't know.” His shrug verged on the impatient. “Does it matter?”

After these past weeks? “It does to me.”

“You think a better idea would be to let my father's life's work slide down the toilet while I sit back playing house?”

“Is that what we were doing? Playing house?”

Exasperated, he closed his eyes and held his brow with a curved palm. Finally he dropped his hand and fused her gaze with his.

“There's a crowd of people waiting. I won't argue. Whatever came before, this is who I am. A son and brother who is taking on the biggest challenge of his life and won't quit until it's won.” His brow pinched. “Can you understand how important this is to me?”

She nodded carefully. He seemed blinded by it. His every gesture radiated determination. His life had taken an unexpected turn which, it seemed, wasn't unwelcome. He was telling her that not only was his mind made up, but he had other priorities now.

The noise outside seemed to fade up as a head ducked in the alcove—Nick Brodrick, Pace's brother. Or should she call him Davis now?

“Sorry to interrupt,” Nick said. “Just wondering…an estimate…when do you think you'll be joining us?”

A muscle in his jaw popped as Pace shoved his hands in his pockets. “I'll be out in a minute.”

Nick sent Phoebe a cordial nod. When he left there seemed little else to say. Pace had to go. She had to step back. Hadn't she always suspected this time would come? Everything had pointed to a short, hot love affair. She'd gone into this fully informed.

Didn't mean it hurt any less.

Pace pulled his hands from his pockets, but he held off from reaching for her.

His voice dropped, became consoling. “Look, we're both strung out, and this situation isn't going to ease up for a while. I'll be working long hours, going overseas a lot, and you've got your show that's doing so well.”

When he held her eyes, his pupils dilating, Phoebe's chest tightened till she flinched.

“Pace…what are you saying?”

His jaw popped again. “If it's too complicated…maybe we ought to give it a rest for a while.”

The world tipped on its axis and Phoebe swayed. She felt as if every drop of blood had been drained from her body. As if every spark of life she'd ever owned had fizzled out. But these past weeks she'd grown so much. She'd found an aspect of herself that had made her that much stronger. For that experience she had Pace to thank. If she had to walk away, at least she'd walk away with that. And if it was time to go, she'd do it gracefully. No drawn-out goodbyes. No dramatics.

Lifting her chin, she managed a no-hard-feelings smile. “Maybe that would be best.”

His eyes widened before he cocked his head. “I see.” He drew down a breath. Blew it out. “So…I'll call.”

Her gaze drank in every angle of his beautiful face. She'd never forget him. Even if her heart were breaking. They'd had such wonderful times together—how could she not wish him well? If he'd changed these past weeks, then so had she.