The Boat Builder's Bed (7 page)

Sophie nodded gravely. Didn’t she just know that! And so much was riding on ‘Subtle’ making a profit. Her rent in Thorndon Quay was horrendous. Her tiny apartment ate up more than two hundred dollars every week. Her ferry-fares to see Camille each Sunday...her mobile and broadband bills... electricity and food...the expenditure seemed endless.

“Thank-you. I’ll be working very hard,” she agreed. “And I think—I hope—my extra luck turned up this morning. A very nice big house.”

She felt Rafe’s fingers pinch her waist and tried to keep a straight face.

“Our beautiful capital city has some glorious properties,” the councilor agreed. “My wife and I have just tendered on a new apartment. Possibly you’d like to view it if the sale goes through?” His bushy eyebrows rose in inquiry.

Sophie was quick to hand him one of her new business cards.

“Do ask your wife to call me any time for a consultation,” she murmured as he moved away.

“Trying to poach my clients?” Faye’s cut-crystal voice sliced from somewhere close behind them.

Sophie flinched, and felt Rafe’s hand tighten at her waist and then release her.

“I don’t need to poach your clients,” she replied, turning to face her former boss. “When they approach
me
, it’s perfectly fair to offer my services.”

She raised her chin a little, held her drink steady, and stared Faye down. Faye sent her a disdainful sniff and turned aside to Rafe.

“Darling,” she purred, touching his tie, flicking a non-existent speck of lint off his lapel, and stretching up on tiptoe to brush a scarlet kiss onto his cheek. “Fancy seeing you here. How lovely.”
 

Sophie clamped her teeth together so hard she almost popped chips off the enamel. Anger boiled up her throat. How
dare
the woman act all cuddly after treating him the way she had? Leading him on. Waiting years before telling him she didn’t want his children.

She watched as a slight smile tugged at Rafe’s gorgeous mouth. At least he hadn’t kissed the bitch back...

“Business good?” he drawled. “You’re managing without Sophie’s help, are you?”

Oh, that’s really done it
.
Now wave a red cape at her, Rafe.

“I was sorry to have to let her go, of course,” Faye said in a slightly-too-loud voice.

“You didn’t ‘let me go’. I couldn’t wait to leave and set up my own studio.”
 

“Ladies...ladies...” Rafe’s grin broadened as he leaned in between them, ostensibly to lift a canapé from a circulating waiter’s silver tray. “Nibble, anyone?”

Sophie shook her head and stepped away. She was damned if she’d play this game.

Rafe’s long arm shot out and caught hers, forcing her to turn back to him.

“Sophie’s decorating the house for me,” he threw into the frigid air. “I felt it needed a fresh approach, a younger eye perhaps?”

The three of them stood like statues in the midst of all the business babble. Seconds ticked by.

“Good luck with that idea, Rafe. As you know,
I
like to bring something distinctive to a commission. Leave my mark, so to speak.”
 

Sophie, who’d been so in awe of Faye for several years, just couldn’t resist. She set down her glass.

“But we’ll remove this one,” she said, taking Rafe’s handkerchief from his breast pocket, stretching up on tiptoe and wiping the scarlet lipstick from his cheek. “He’s not your commission. He’s mine now.”
 

Faye stared daggers at her for a few seconds, then turned and flounced off.

“That went well,” Rafe said. Sophie felt his grasp around her wrist soften, but he didn’t release her.

It felt damn good having the two of them scrapping over him. He knew it was petty, but his male pride had been stroked by those few choice comments. To see Sophie extend her claws and effortlessly get the upper hand had been a surprise.
 

And how he’d liked the way she’d said
he
was her commission and not the house. Slip of the tongue? He hoped not.

To have Sophie laying claim to him in front of Faye had boosted his satisfaction to very comfortable heights. Add that to the fact he now had a decorator, forward progress on the house, and a woman who piqued his interest, and he was a thoroughly happy man.

“Almost time to eat.”

“I’m quite hungry,” she agreed.

“A little excitement does that, don’t you find? Increases all sorts of appetites?” He watched, amused, as Sophie blushed and huffed and tried to pull away. “Where’s your earring?”

Her hand flew up to grope at her ears and found one missing. “Darn—somewhere in your house I expect.” She unthreaded the other to match.

“We’ll find it tonight after dinner.”

“No, Rafe,” she hissed. “This has got to stay business.”

“We’ll see.”

“We certainly won’t.” She stopped whispering as the silver-haired city councilor approached again.

“Ah, Rafe, want a word,” he boomed.

Rafe followed the man to one of the impressive-looking dining settings and pulled a chair out so Sophie could sit. Councilor Duncan turned aside for a moment to exchange pleasantries with a nearby crony.

“If you want your earring back you’ll need to come out to the house and collect it,” Rafe said, leaning low as he pushed the chair in for her. “They’re starting the big clean-up tomorrow and it might get swept up with all the dust and rubbish.”

Her grey eyes spat sparks at him. “That’s blackmail.”

“Surely not?” He smiled at her outraged expression. “I want you there. I nearly always get what I want.”

“So do I,” Councilor Duncan claimed, turning back and overhearing half of their conversation. “And what I want m’boy is your opinion on the proposed redevelopment of the Miramar wharf area.”
 

Rafe put on his public face and offered opinions on slipways and winches and parking facilities. Faye’s spiky dark hair and cutting-edge lime green jacket were visible across the big room, but far enough away that Sophie could relax a little and join in the general conversation at the table. She wished Rafe hadn’t rubbed Faye’s nose in the situation with quite such glee though. She’d be a formidable opponent, and the design scene in Wellington wasn’t huge. But how good it felt having him at her side.

And how good it
would
feel if she agreed to go back to the house with him. But that wouldn’t happen unless it was strictly business.

She sighed and forked up the last bite of her peppery beef.
 

“Nothing to follow except coffee or tea, I’m afraid,” Councilor Duncan said. “And the ladies do seem to like a little something after their meal.”

“They do indeed,” Rafe agreed.

“I’m fine without,” Sophie insisted.

The guest on her other side was taking every opportunity to harangue the city councilor about the increasing number of pigeons in the park near his business premises.

“Filthy little creatures...fouling the footpaths... smelling like a sewage plant...need to be shot...”
 

Sophie’s lips quirked as she caught Rafe’s amused glance. Surely there were more important problems than this in the capital city?
 

He laid down his fork, edged his chair closer to the table and sent the other diners a benign smile.

“A bird in the hand?” he suggested as his fingers slipped under the voluminous white damask tablecloth and squeezed her thigh.

“Not funny!” Sophie was close to exploding as she hurried down the marble steps of the Wakefield Club a little later. A flush of reined-in fury stained her face. Her eyes blazed with temper. And her body burned with wanting him. “You said I’d be your business guest. You were supposed to be mentoring me, not groping me under the tablecloth. If anyone had noticed, all my credibility would have gone out the window in a flash.”

“Instead of all your composure?” He grinned, unrepentant. “Sophie, you have no idea what a turn-on you are when you’re blushing and wriggling and trying to look prim.”

“Prim? I was trying to look respectable. It was very hard.”

“Well,
something
certainly was. Just as well that was a big tablecloth.”

She snorted at that, and sent him another mutinous scowl as they walked back to the Jaguar. He reached to take her hand. She slapped it away.

He opened the car for her.

“Rafe?”
 

“Yup?”

“Stop it. I don’t want to mess this job up. It’s important to me. My whole future depends on it.”
 

“You won’t mess it up, Sophie. I have complete faith in you.”

“Not the
decorating
,” she insisted as she swung her legs in. “I have plenty of experience. I have good contacts and excellent tradespeople to call on. I have qualifications and my own high standards to live up to. But...”

“Then you’ve nothing to worry about.” Rafe closed the Jaguar’s door and left her cocooned in its leathery luxury. She fumed as he sauntered around to the driver’s side, and seated himself.

“It’s
not
the decorating,” she repeated. “It’s the you-and-me thing. If we socialize and then get a couple of weeks into the house job and can’t stand each other, where does that leave me? I’m just starting out. ‘Subtle’ has been all I’ve planned and saved for, for several years now.”

“While you were working for Faye?”

“Yes, of course. I hate to admit it but I’m jealous of her. Of her beautiful big studio. Of her fantastic clothes and great clients.”
 

She took a deep breath and released it slowly, willing herself to sound calm and rational. “I want the same for me. Every dollar I’ve been able to save has gone towards it. If I fail, I fail big-time. I have so much riding on this—more than you can possibly imagine.”

She bit her bottom lip to hold back any further admissions. She
would not
let him know about Camille and her failure there.
 

Her nerves fluttered with desperation. She’d taken such a risk. Lived on fresh air and hope during the weeks she’d renovated the studio. Her savings were almost gone, and her optimism felt as though it was shored up with string and paper-clips.

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitched. “If it’s any consolation, she’s no hot-shot businesswoman. She enjoys being known as the owner of Severino Design. Throwing my name around, having me to bail her out when jobs went bad in the past. Sure, she’s talented enough, but her concept of profit and loss is laughable.”

Sophie stared at him open-mouthed for a few seconds before recovering her train of thought.

“But I presumed she must have been making a mint. She always seemed to have new jewelry...great holidays...”

“All bought with the boats. When I saw you this morning, part of the reason I stopped was your gorgeous legs, and the other was I wondered if she was expanding or retrenching.”

Sophie’s heart plummeted. “You expected she was going backwards? You think I’ve chosen a bad location?”

“It’s an excellent location, and you know it is. Stop being so female!” He aimed a mock-punch at her jaw and turned it into a quick sensuous caress. “Thorndon Quay’s taking over as the decorator district. You’ll do well there.”

“I’ll do well on the reputation of your beautiful house, and that’s what worries me,” she said, shaking her head. “I really don’t want to risk mixing up the business side of my life with the personal side.”

Rafe closed his eyes for a second.

“Okay, back to basics. The contract in no way depends on that. The job’s yours. I should have pulled finger weeks ago. I had a word with Chris when I was getting a few screws for your signboard. Told him to clean everything up so you can go for it. I know it’s getting toward the end of the year, but at least start things rolling for me?”

He reached over and clasped her hand, with more success now they were sitting close together. “Chase the kitchen people, Sophie. Bring me samples. Fast as you like. I won’t mess you around and I won’t let anything personal get in the way of your work.”

He brought her hand to his lips. “But I’d really like to see you after hours—yes?”

“No,” she said, trying to glare at him, and feeling the corners of her mouth lifting instead. “You’re a bulldozer. You just expect you’ll get your own way, don’t you? All that flirting and those muscles. That fabulous damn smile. Yes, that’s the one,” she added as Rafe flashed her another wicked grin.

“I can wait.”
 
He fired up the engine and checked the traffic. “If I have to.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“Snippy little thing, aren’t you? And so brave with big bad Faye. I enjoyed that.”
 

He accelerated into a gap and concentrated on driving while Sophie tried to steel herself against his charm offensive and wished she didn’t have to.

“I’ll be back at the studio by five with champagne,” he added. “Anything else you need?”

She shook her head and sighed. “Lord, I hope not. They’re keeping the wine and juice chilled for me at McAllisters’ until later on. I’ve hired glasses and plates, I’ve ordered platters of nibbles from the deli, bought paper napkins.” She ticked them off on her fingers as she itemized. “Sent out invitations and lots of people have replied. There are plenty of business cards to give away. I didn’t get brochures printed because my website tells them everything. That’s all I can think of. Let’s hope most of them turn up and some of them book consultations.”

“Let’s hope they don’t tie you up so much you’ve no time left for me.”

“Ha, wouldn’t that be wonderful? That’d solve my problem.”

“But not mine, Ms Calhoun. I have need of your services. I want a fair share of your attention to get my house moving towards completion.”

“As long as that’s all.”

She caught his brief smile before he returned his attention to the traffic.
 

CHAPTER SIX

As the sun started to cast long shadows in Thorndon Quay and the final guests departed, Sophie flopped down on the studio’s sofa, kicked her high sandals off and rotated her aching ankles. She stretched her arms sideways with a long soft groan.