Guardian to the Heiress (8 page)

“That’s funny! I thought they were all looking at
you.
Especially the women. Any girlfriends among the ranks?”

“Yes, possibly, a few,” he acknowledged with a faint smile. “You look
exquisite!
” That was a real slip, but he was still reeling from the shock of seeing her as she’d opened her apartment door. The impact had hit him squarely in the chest, the area of the heart. He’d already known she was ravishingly pretty, but even that fell a long way short of an adequate description. She was lovely
with tremendous allure and a new level of maturity. His involuntary—God help him,
passionate
—reaction was, this was a young woman he could easily fall in love with; a very sexy, sensual young woman in her beautiful plum-coloured dress with her ruby hair cut much shorter to frame her small vivid face. Girl into woman.

Only, falling in love with her was a danger to be avoided at all costs. He hadn’t even dared to kiss her on the cheek. He couldn’t afford to indulge in anything like that. It could turn out to be the thin edge of the wedge. But her arm just above the elbow as he had taken it as they’d moved off was so smooth
to his touch. She had beautiful skin. Beautiful skin all over her body, he just knew. If for a moment he had allowed himself to be pierced by an unnerving desire, he was over it. Well...almost over it, back in control. The very last thing he wanted was to bring trouble down on Carol Chancellor’s young head.

Damon sat back, his eyes hooded. If he were honest, he would admit he didn’t really know what was happening in his life any more.

He had already told her she looked beautiful the moment he had arrived to pick her up. She wasn’t expecting
exquisite.
Carol took a deep breath, aware of the heat in her cheeks. “I’m glad you think so. Do I look older?”

Damon couldn’t help laughing. “Was that your intention?”

“You may have noticed I’m not wearing one of my sparkly little numbers,” she leaned forward to confide. “I wanted to appear more elegant.”
For
you.

“You have my
verdict.” There was a faintly sardonic twist to his handsome mouth.

She studied him with her bluer-than-blue eyes. “What do they say, amorous intrigue is the spice of life? Do you agree?”

“You’re saying this is an amorous occasion?” He quirked a brow.

He looked so
attractive she felt her heart give a great lunge. “Don’t be silly, Damon. You’re embarrassing me. I’m talking about
your
lady friends. We can talk about them, can’t we? I happen to know you’ve checked out my list of on-and-off boyfriends.”

“Now, how would you know that?” His gaze sharpened.

“Gotcha!”

“Okay.” He held out his palms. “My job is to protect you, Carol. Protect you and your interests. I have to keep one move ahead of the game. You’re well and truly in the limelight. But you know you have a management team in place.”

“So how long is this management team going to be in place?” She made an attempt at lightness when just being with him engendered such excitement.

The expression on his face was serious. “As long as it takes. Now, this is a celebratory dinner. You’ve done us all proud. What are you going to have? The seafood is always superb.”

“I know. They sing paeans of praise for the chef. Thank you for thinking of me, Damon. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

His brilliant dark gaze held hers. “We are, Carol.” Momentarily he allowed himself to barely touch her small pretty hand lying on the table. Was it an excuse? Sensation stunned him, catching him under the ribs. It set off a surge of adrenaline that ran like shivery pins and needles up and down his arm.

“That’s all I need to know.” Carol, too, felt the impact. For half a second she felt her heart actually flutter. She had never thought of herself as needy, yet it was thrilling to know she had Damon on her side; Damon to stand at her shoulder. He had done that from their very first meeting. She might be a client but she had the unstoppable feeling she was a little bit important to him.

The champagne arrived. He raised his glass to her. “Congratulations, Carol.”

After that, they both fell into their comfort zone. If she wanted so much more, at least she had the sense to know it was out of the question. Damon was kind, he was thoughtful, he was way out of her league. She almost wished herself five or six years older. But that was her nature: she always did rush at things. She had rushed into a huge crush. One could wait all one’s life for such a crush.

It was easy enough to savour the beautiful food and wine. Carol stuck to two glasses of champagne as her limit. She thought Damon would approve. At any rate, he didn’t attempt to press any more on her. They talked about many things—always something fresh to discuss. He told her how he had been hell-bent on a legal career. He talked about his mother. Clearly they shared a close, loving relationship. Damon had travelled widely, sometimes to very distant places like the North Pole.

“I went with a university friend, Zac Murray. We both wanted to have the experience of seeing the Northern Lights, the aurora borealis.”

“And did you? I’d read it’s not always possible, depending on the weather.”

His dark eyes lit up. “We were fortunate to be there in the intense phase of the solar cycle. We lay on our backs for an hour or more, staring up at a phenomenal display. It got too cold to stay. The aurora appeared in curtainlike structures, the most marvellous fluorescent green, very bright. I have seen the aurora australis in the South Island of New Zealand when I was on holidays some years back. It had red and blue lights. Not a lot of people know the Northern Lights and the Southern Lights have almost identical features.”

“In the Middle Ages the aurora was believed to be a sign from God,” Carol remembered. She was an avid reader, unlike her friends, who had enough with their text books and the internet.

One side of his firm mouth lifted slightly. “Difficult to deny the existence of a divine being when confronted by the marvels of nature.”

“A religious experience?

“I’m going to say a spiritual one, Carol,” he said calmly.

He was focusing on her face. Was he really seeing
her
or just a pretty girl? “Maybe that’s how God reveals himself,” Carol suggested.

“Okay,” he smiled. “I’ll go along with that.”

* * *

They finished the entrée of the day, blue swimmer crab with strips of smoked eggplant. It was superb, as was the steamed red emperor served in a banana leaf with papaya chilli and coconut salsa. Australian chefs were among the best in the world, she decided. Australian fresh produce was amazing. They were working their way through what they would have for dessert when a tall, very glamorous brunette rose from her seat across the room and began to wind her way towards them, stopping here and there for short two- or three-way conversations.

Carol revved into life. “How do you feel about introducing me to your girlfriend?” she asked mischievously.

He looked up, his expression half amused, half sardonic. “Which one?”

“The one coming this way. A real glamour girl. Some angst, I’d say, though it’s not all that visible. Why
is
that?”

“I don’t have a clue.” Nevertheless he rose suavely to his feet as Amber Coleman arrived at their table. “Good evening, Amber.”

“Good evening, darling.” She followed up by raising her bare arms to him in a public show of closeness, then she kissed him on both cheeks. She was wearing a short strapless gown in tomato red that set off her brunette colouring beautifully. “Thought I spotted you out of the corner of my eye. And this is young Carol Chancellor?” She turned to give Carol a dazzling smile. At the same time, she made a swift judgement on Carol’s appearance, make-up, hairdo, and dress, even taking a peep at Carol’s stilettos.

Carol returned smile for smile. “How nice to meet you, Ms Coleman. I have a birthday in August. I’ll be twenty-one.”

“A marvellous age!” Amber enthused. “And this is a fabulous dinner date.” She spoke archly. It didn’t fool Carol for a minute. Amber Coleman was
furious.

“Yes, and it’s nearly over.” Carol gave a deep sigh of regret. “I have to be in bed by nine.” She glanced at her watch. “Oops, Damon, we won’t be home on time.”

For a split second Amber Coleman’s fixed smile faded, but she quickly re-found her habitual poise. “Just wanted to say hello. You’re coming to the Burtons’ tomorrow night, Damon?” She shifted her golden-brown gaze back to him.

A line appeared between his black brows. “I don’t know that I got an invitation, Amber.”

“You
did,
darling,” she said. “Oh, well...” Another glance flicked over Carol. “I suppose you’re very busy.”

“He is, too. I worry about him,” Carol piped up with concern. “But you mustn’t blame me, Ms Coleman. Damon has plenty of other important clients.”

“Now that was naughty,” Damon said after Amber just short of flounced away.

“Kids are allowed to be naughty. I
am
naughty, make no mistake. I’m on my best behaviour with you, Damon. I can’t promise it will last. I
was
a naughty kid. It happens when family abandons you.”

“You had your mother.”

That earned him an enigmatic smile. “So I did. Tell me, are you going to the Burtons’ knees-up?” She widened her eyes. “Did you hear what Ms Coleman said? You were invited.”

Damon knew she was trying to rattle his cage. He concentrated his attention on the menu. “I’m debating the six little macaroons of different flavours or the Turkish-coffee petits pots?”

She was instantly diverted. “Why not both, then we can share? Macaroons sound easy but they’re actually quite difficult to get perfect.” She spoke seriously.

“You cook?” One brow lifted.

“Why look so surprised?” Her gaze was challenging.

He gave a near-Gallic shrug. “Well...”

“I know. You thought I’d be useless in the kitchen. Well, I have to tell you I’m a good cook. I devour cookbooks. I love cooking programmes. I love that French guy. I make a
wicked
chocolate-truffle tart. I used to do most of the cooking at the flat. My girlfriends were happy to leave it to me. Jeff used to love my cheesecake. My mother never touched sweets—the figure, you know? Needless to say, she never cooked. They dine out just about every night. Roxanne is actually anorexic, which is worrying. She pushes food round and round her plate. It’s something to see.”

“It would be,” he agreed, glad she had concerns about her mother’s health no matter their difficult relationship. “How do you get on with your stepfather?” He made a searching assessment of her expression.

Her eyes shot to his face. “Oh, hey, I don’t talk about Jeff, Damon. Not even with you.”

His handsome features tautened. “He never laid a finger on you? I saw the two of you together at the house, remember?”

“Is
that
why you charged over?” She let out a gasp. “You thought I was frightened?”

“Not frightened—you were surrounded by people—but he had his arms wrapped right around you. You’re small.”

Carol sat back.
“Gosh, I’m glad you didn’t say
short.
You gave Jeff quite a fright.”

“I meant to.” His disapproval of Jeff Emmett was evident. “Now here comes the waiter. I just hope the macaroons are as good as yours.”

Carol laughed in delight. He had thought she was scared. His reaction had been immediate. “Maybe you should tell the chef he has plenty of competition out here.”

* * *

They walked companionably to the entrance of her apartment building. Damon intended to see her right to her door. One of the wealthiest women in the city had been the recent focus of attention for a male stalker who had turned out to be an ex-groundsman at her country retreat. He had even been admitted to her building dressed as a maintenance man.

“You don’t have to come up, Damon,” she said

“I will, all the same.” No one was loitering in the street. No one was watching from a parked car. He hated the fact that she was now a target as the Chancellor heiress. It wouldn’t be possible to miss her, with her ruby-red hair, porcelain skin and the graceful ballerina’s body. She had told him she had studied ballet from age six to sixteen.

“Somewhere for my mother to dump me. It just so happened I
loved
it. How did I get in this position, Damon?” she asked.

He took her elbow. “Your grandfather obviously thought you could handle it.”

“With a lot of help.”

“You’ve got it, Carol.” Damon pressed the buttons for both lifts.

“But—”

“No buts. I’ll see you to your door.”

After a moment one lift door opened, but as they went to step in a tall, gangly young man around nineteen or twenty—jeans, blue T-shirt, shock of blond hair—charged from the back of the lift, mobile glued to his ear. He looked angry and upset, red in the face.

“Watch it!” Carol gasped. He had headed right for her, preoccupied, fair head down.

“Sorry, babe, an emergency.” He glanced up. He had taken the short cut between Carol and Damon, not intending to but clipping Carol’s arm and shoulder rather hard. She staggered on her high heels and Damon caught her, slipping a strong arm around her waist. She gave a convulsive swallow, her whole body suddenly pulsing with sensation. It was an extraordinary feeling to be held close to his body—no day dreaming, the real thing—her body pressed against his. She could only stand perfectly still taking little in and out breaths through her open mouth. Her flesh seemed to be burning through the silk satin of her dress. Her legs had lost so much of their strength she felt she just might slide to her knees. Only he held her. How crazy to think it, but she had a feeling she had come home! She wanted to stay there forever.

The sheer folly of it!

Damon also had a good grip on the tearaway. “Are you going to apologize for that?” he rasped.

“What the hell? You’re holding me up, man. Don’t start, right?” The young man took a good look at Damon, then decided on the spot to ditch all bravado. The demand eased off into a plea.

“I’ll do more than that.” Damon released Carol so he could get a better grip on the agitated young man.