Sweet Talk Boxed Set (Ten NEW Contemporary Romances by Bestselling Authors to Benefit Diabetes Research plus BONUS Novel) (104 page)

“Please. Sit,” Martine said as soon as the door of the conference room closed behind them. Hope did her best to breathe, and sat.

“I’ll be frank.” Martine took a graceful seat at the head of the table. “I’m concerned about you. I hope that you aren’t letting your personal life get…away from you.”

“I know I was late today,” Hope hurried to say. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Martine waved a slim red-nailed hand. “It’s not so much the tardiness,” she said, and Hope flushed a little. That made it sound like she’d been late constantly, instead of once. “It’s more the…the special arrangements. The special requests.”

Her glance was knowing, as if she were aware of exactly what Hope had been doing in the wee hours of the night, and exactly whom she’d been doing it with. Hope had taken a shower on board the jet, had changed her clothes, and yet she could swear that Martine knew.

“I’ve had some special assignments, it’s true,” she told Martine. “Is there a problem with that?”

She trembled a little as she said it. This was exactly as awkward as she’d feared it would be, because the whole situation was irregular to say the least, and she knew it. Hemi had made sure that she’d have a full day’s work to point to for every day she’d been gone. Hope had insisted on that. She’d made sure she’d done it well, too. Her efforts might not be anything special, but they were her best.

She wished for the hundredth time that she could get another job, could come to Hemi—not as an equal, maybe, because how could she be that, in the work world?—but at least not as a subordinate. This was too hard, and it felt too wrong.

It wasn’t an option, though. Not when she so desperately needed the salary, and, even more than that, the health insurance. She had tried so hard to keep the boundaries clear, not to accept more than any girlfriend would have from Hemi. Not to let him support her in any way, because she couldn’t bear to think that she had been bought and paid for, and she couldn’t afford to get used to his lifestyle. She had to be able to stand on her own feet. There was no other choice, and she knew it. And to do that, she needed to make this job work out. 

Now, Martine frowned, and Hope fought to keep her breathing under control. She could tell something bad was coming.
Please, don’t let me lose my job,
she prayed.
Please, no.

“I’m going to give you a piece of advice,” Martine said, and Hope’s panic receded, at least for the moment. “Just because you remind me of myself, not so long ago. Be careful. I know you feel…special, right now. But you’re not.”

Hope tried to keep her face neutral, but knew she was failing utterly as Martine went on. “You think that if you follow all his…all the rules, it will last. But it won’t. None of that will matter, in the end, because you’re just one in a line that stretches a long, long way back. And one that will stretch a long way into the future, too. So…” She smiled. “Don’t quit your day job.”

She stood up, opened the door, and Hope scrambled to her feet. “But for now,” Martine said, “I suppose you’ll do what you have to do, because you don’t really have a choice, do you? You’ll go where you’re taken, and you’ll do what you’re told. You’ll take…advantage of the situation. Who could blame you?”

Her gaze swept Hope, and Hope could see her calculating the expense of the new outfit Hemi had bought her, the one that had made her feel so pretty, nearly as sleek and polished as Martine, when she’d put it on under Hemi’s approving eye this morning.

When he’d pulled her into the shop in the luxurious Sydney arcade two days earlier, it had felt like he wanted to pamper her, to spoil her. And maybe, just maybe, just for a minute, it had even felt a little bit like…love. Now, she felt as if she were wearing some kind of scarlet letter, as if one look at her shoes would tell everyone in the office what was really going on. Why she had a job at all, and why she was keeping it.

She did her best not to stumble over her heels on the way back to her cubicle, fought back the stupid tears that insisted on rising all the same, and began to go through her assignments all the same, to plan her day.

Everyone might think she was a fraud, but she didn’t have to be one. She would know the truth, even if she were the only one who did. She would keep her self-respect, even if she couldn’t keep anything else. Or anyone else.

***

This time it wasn’t Will who caught her at it. It was Talia.

“Oh. Hi,” the girl said, hovering on the stairs as if she were about to run back up them.

“Hi.” Faith closed her laptop with what she hoped wasn’t undue haste and set it on the chunky square coffee table that provided a massive centerpiece to the leather couches and chairs around it. “I sure hope you’re about to go into the kitchen for breakfast. And that you can point me to the coffee, because I’m starved and desperate, and I’m not sure what the rules are about what I can eat, or whether I’m supposed to wait.”

Talia smiled, and Faith realized that it was almost the first time she’d seen that expression on her face. The girl came the rest of the way down the stairs in her checked skirt, blue blouse, navy cardigan, and matching knee socks, and Faith stood up and followed her into the modern kitchen. It was stone-floored like the rest of the common spaces, and her stocking-clad feet curled a little against the cold. Maybe she needed to get into the hot tub again. Or maybe not.

“Don’t think we have coffee, actually,” Talia said. “Sorry. We have tea, of course.”

“Of course,” Faith said glumly.

“You can go out for a coffee, though.” Talia filled an electric kettle, set it on its base, and flipped the switch. “Easy as. That’s what people usually do.”

“Oh?” Faith filed that one away for book-reference. “Because back home, we make our own coffee. I mean, regular coffee. Drip coffee.”

“Drip coffee? What’s that?”

“It’s…never mind.” It was much too early in the morning to explain regular coffee, in a regular coffee machine. “Tea’s good.”

“Want eggs, too?” Talia bent to take them out of the fridge, the heavy braid that hung halfway to her hips barely moving. “That’s what I’m doing.”

“Sure. What can I do to help?”

“Toast, if you like.” Talia pulled out the loaf and handed it to Faith.

“You’re up early,” Faith commented. Talia was already pouring boiling water into mugs, she saw with gratitude, because if she didn’t get some caffeine in her fast, she was going to kill somebody, and tea was better than nothing. “I don’t remember being an early riser when I was a teenager. Do you have an early class? And is that a school uniform?”

Talia laughed, which was another first, and shoved the mug across the counter at Faith. “I wouldn’t be wearing it otherwise. Not exactly a fashion statement, is it.”

Faith cast a glance at the skirt. She didn’t miss that Talia hadn’t answered her other question. “Can I ask? Do you roll up the waistband once you’re out of the house? I always heard about girls doing that.”

“Maybe,” Talia admitted, peeping at Faith from under long dark lashes that Faith would have killed for. “Because it’s so
long,
isn’t it.”

“I think they choose the most unflattering length possible,” Faith agreed, “so girls won’t look pretty. Too dangerous. They might forget themselves, or the boys might, as if they wouldn’t anyway.”

She got a little smile for that. “So girls don’t have to wear uniforms in the States?” Talia asked. “Can you wear whatever you like?”

“You can. Of course, that’s got a downside, too. It seems to me, if everybody wears the same uniform, it’s less about who has how much money. If you’re a girl who doesn’t have the right clothes, a uniform could just be the answer to your prayers.”

“I never thought of it like that. Just thought it was ugly, and wished we could wear mufti. I can’t
wait
to get out of school.” Talia’s tone was almost savage as she poked at the eggs she had broken into a pan on the stove with a spatula. “Go to Uni and get
out.
Like Mals.”

Faith started to ask a question, then thought better of it. “Hmm,” she said instead, focusing on buttering slices of toast as if it required all her concentration. “Maybe it’s easier to be a boy.”

She thought Talia was going to say something. But instead, like Hope in the conference room, she seemed to catch herself. She turned away, pulled plates out of the cupboard, and slid eggs onto them. Faith added the toast, and they pulled stools up to the kitchen counter and began to eat.

“So what is there to do after school around here?” Faith ventured after a minute. Talia hadn’t been around the previous afternoon, she hadn’t missed that. “Seems like it might be a little easier to get together with your friends than where I grew up.”

“Where’s that? Vegas? I always wanted to go there. Sounds so glamorous. Not boring like here.”

Faith laughed. “And here I’ve been thinking how beautiful New Zealand is. How much there is to do. The ocean, the lake, the mountains? It seems like paradise to me.”

That was met with a look of incredulity. “Ha. Dead bore. Everybody I know wants to emigrate to Aussie, or the UK, or even,” Talia said with a sigh, “the States. When I told them you were from Vegas, all my friends were jealous as.”

Jealous as what? Faith wondered. “Well, I guess everything looks different from the outside, because it’s not glamorous at all. I work in a casino. I practically grew up in one, so I ought to know. It’s people losing their money, and outside of that? It’s suburbia, and your friends from school live miles away, and you don’t have a car. I’d think it might be better here. What do you do after school?”

“Huh,” Talia said. “We usually go down by the lake. You know, hang out. Have a chat.”

“I haven’t seen the lake yet.” Faith concentrated on her toast. “I wonder—” She stopped. “No, probably not. I know, I’m kind of old. Never mind.”

“What?” Talia asked. “You’re not old. You’re pretty cool, actually.”

“Really? Well…do you think—would you be willing to show me the lake, maybe? Show me around a bit? Because I’ll bet Will’s going to go to the gym this afternoon again, and your grandmother said something about yoga again, so…please.”

Talia laughed, for real this time, her perfect smooth oval of a face lighting up with it, her dark eyes showing a light Faith hadn’t seen in them, and Faith laughed back.

“Yeah,” Faith admitted, “I’m begging here. Please. Hide me.”

***

She did end up seeing the lake before the afternoon, though. She saw it on the way to her Canopy Tour with Will.

His mother had come into the kitchen while Faith and Talia were finishing up, and Talia’s face had gone shuttered, their conversation at an end. Faith had sat at the breakfast table with the others once Talia had taken herself off, had offered to do the dishes, and had had her offer accepted, to her relief.

“You can do them with me,” Miriama said. “Emere is off to work today.”

“Oh, do you work?” Faith asked, and then could have kicked herself, because the woman had raised five children.

“Yeh,” Will’s mother said. “At the i-Site—the tourist information site—a few days a week. Keeps me busy. How do you stay busy, Faith?”

Her glance held not-so-veiled hostility, but Will just laughed. “You’re offside there, Mum. Faith has three jobs.” Well, four, but who was counting? “She’s been working already since she’s been down here, haven’t you noticed? She doesn’t spend her time trolling the casinos for hot rugby boys with big bikkies, whatever you may be imagining.”

“Big…” Faith uttered faintly. What had he just
said?

“With money,” he said. “Why, what did you think? Got to stop looking at those naughty pictures, eh. They’re giving you a dirty mind.”

Faith choked back a laugh, because Will’s mother didn’t look amused, and Miriama’s sharp eyes were on the two of them again.

“Hoping to tear you away today, though,” Will said. “I thought we could do a bit of sightseeing. In fact, I already booked, so no choice. As Kuia pointed out to me, here you are in En Zed, and I’m duty-bound to give you an adrenaline rush, aren’t I.” 

His face was nothing but innocent, but Faith knew better. She looked right back at him and said, “An adrenaline rush? You think you could?”

This time, he was the one choking, to her satisfaction. He recovered himself fast, though, and said, “Well, maybe somebody else could. And I could watch.”

She started to smile, caught the look on his mother’s face, and got up hastily and began to collect plates instead. “I’ll just start this, then. I’d like to help more instead of just falling asleep on you, since you all are being kind enough to let me visit.” Yes, it might have been a blatant attempt to win a little favor with his mother, but she wasn’t used to being hated, and it was wearing on her.

Will got up with her. “We’ll do it together. And then go for my outing.”

“Don’t
do
that,” she hissed at him under cover of the running water when she was scraping plates and filling the dishwasher.

“Who, me? Did I start that?”

“Your grandmother knows,” she muttered. “I’m sure she does. And, what? Now I’m not just a gold-digging tramp, I’m a gold-digging
exhibitionist
tramp?”

His laugh rang out, and she had to laugh too. “Because you’re bad,” he said, the smile reaching all the way to his eyes as he looked down at her. “I’ve always known it. It’s all a front, that good-girl thing you do. See, there you are turning red again, bang on cue. Nothing better than a good girl succumbing to her dark side. Nothing sexier than thinking about helping her do it.”

“Stop,” she warned. “Stop right now. That’s our deal.”

He sighed. “Right. Washing-up, sightseeing, showing my innocent American girlfriend the beauties of my native land. The program as scheduled.”

***

It didn’t turn out to be sightseeing. It turned out to be a heart-stopping journey through the treetops with two guides and five other guests, none of whom had recognized Will, because none of them had been Kiwis. The guides had known who he was, but they hadn’t made a big deal of it. But then, Kiwis didn’t make a big deal out of much, Faith was figuring that out. Well, nothing except rugby.