His Irresistible Darling (8 page)

“So I was thinking we could hit the pool and have some fun before you have a little snooze, then we’ll head out to the party. I thought you’d appreciate a sleep after your flight,” she said whilst simultaneously trying to pop the top off her tube of Smarties.

“Sounds good to me,” he agreed, munching on his food, popping his sunglasses on and resting his head back on the headrest. “So where’s your party?” he continued, turning his head towards her, wiping his mouth with the napkin.

“A nightclub at one of the big hotels on the beach. My friend Melina has made all the arrangements. Speaking of whom—” She paused and looked over at James briefly, hoping the guilt wasn’t obvious on her face.

“What? What did you do, Pip?” he yelled, making his voice heard over the wind and crashing ocean and raising his sunglasses to the top of his head, presumably so she could see his suspicious glare.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing much,” she mumbled, her mouth now full of Smarties. “Just helping to speed up the natural course of events. You’re only here for a couple of days and I know you two will like each other so—” she waved her arm in a knowing gesture “—I told her to meet us at the pool. She lives in the same apartment complex. How convenient is that, hey? It’s like fate or something,” she joked.

Once she saw James’s coy smile and slow shake of the head, she knew he wasn’t mad at her. He dropped his shades back down and propped his arm on the car’s door frame.
Job done,
she thought, pleased with herself. James and Melina would only have to set eyes on each other and bam, the chemistry would be there immediately, sparks would fly, no messing around. If only her own love life were so simple to fix…

Before James could ask any more questions, Pip turned on her iPod connected to the car’s stereo system. Not bothering to try to secure her once-again wayward hair, she sang along to Bob Marley.

She chose to ignore the rib from James about her singing not improving. Nothing could blight her good mood.

***

Jumal cursed as he simultaneously tried to rinse shampoo out of his eyes, fumble to shut off the shower and reach for his ringing mobile phone he’d set on a towel on the marbled vanity.

He managed to answer it, still blinded, before it went to answerphone. He held it in the crook of his neck whilst grabbing the towel to wrap around his hips and dabbing water in his eyes from the sink. Whoever said men couldn’t multitask hadn’t met him.

“Hey Malik, yeah.”

“Oh hey, yeah it’s me, erm, so you know you told me to keep an eye on Pip and call you if I thought you needed to be here for any reason whatsoever?”

“Yeah. Ow shit,” he cursed again. How the hell could this stuff sting so much?!

“Well. I think you should come on down.”

“Is she okay?” he asked, trying to keep calm. Christ what if she needed to get to a hospital or something? He could barely open his eyes.

“Yeah. She’s fine but put it this way: she could head straight to the beach and she’d still be underdressed and er, she’s getting quite a lot of attention.”

“What the hell does that mean? You know what, never mind. I’m on my way. Just don’t let her out of your sight,” he growled.

He ended the call, abruptly cutting off his friend in his rush to dress and get to Pippa.

***

“Where is she?”

Jumal followed Malik’s nod towards the packed dance floor. Jumal craned his neck and shielded his eyes from the glare and dazzle of the disco lights but was still not able to see her.

Suddenly, the crowds parted like the Red Sea.

“Holy mother of Allah. Is that…?”

“Yep,” Malik acknowledged loudly before throwing back the shot he was nursing.

“Why the hell didn’t you call me sooner?” he challenged whilst tracking Pippa’s stroll towards them.

“Hey, Jumal, you came!” she yelled at him over the bass of the music before turning her attention from him. “Malik, you ready to dance with me yet? You promised.” She popped her hip and pouted.

Jumal didn’t move his eyes from Pippa as he placed a restraining hand on his friends arm, knowing his friend would understand his message loud and clear. Malik cleared his throat. “Right well erm, I think I’ll go and get us a drink,” he said motioning his thumb behind his shoulder towards the bar. “Save me a dance for later, birthday girl.”

Jumal thought he caught Malik saying something along the lines of him needing luck as he walked past him to the bar.

“Brilliant fancy dress, Jumal,” she teased. “You’ve got the whole ‘tight-arsed, control freak, big boss man slash relaxed Friday night combo’ down to a tee.” He watched tight-lipped as she waved her hand judgementally as his clothes.

He scowled at her. “And what the hell have
you
come as? A Victoria’s Secret model?” He inwardly winced. He hadn’t intended for his voice to be quite so aggressive.

“Humph, isn’t it obvious? I’m Halle Berry from the James Bond film and James—” she turned and waved her arm randomly towards the dance floor “—has come as the man himself, although to be honest he didn’t have to make much of an effort, just put on a tux—handsome devil that he is. And,” she went on, “can you believe that he wouldn’t let me strap my diver’s knife to my thigh? Anyway,” she continued, as she punched his arm in what he presumed was supposed to be a friendly way but had a surprising amount of force to it, “get you, knowing about VS. There may just be hope for you yet.” She winked at him.

“So what do you think?” she asked, as she gave him a twirl. “I pretty much nailed it, didn’t I? Well apart from the hair,” she said as she flicked the ends of her hair dismissively over her shoulder. “Couldn’t do much about that with this mop, but my second attempt at applying a fake tan was much more successful. Don’t you think? Jumal?”

“Huh, what?” Crap he’d been caught ogling. Again. “Come on, I think it’s time I took you home,” he told her, holding out his hand.

“What?” she shrieked at him and he automatically dropped his hand. “Are you
kidding
? It’s my birthday, well my party anyway and I’m not ready to go home, not for a long time.” He knew it wasn’t her birthday for a few days yet. She surprised him by taking hold of his hand and gently urging him forward. “Come and dance with me and then you can keep a proper eye on me like I know my brother told you to.”

Jumal was pleased that she was making her own assumptions about his turning up at her birthday party. For once, it worked in his favour.

“I don’t dance,” he said sharply, shaking his head.

She dropped her hand from his and strangely he missed the comforting contact. He wasn’t a “hand-holding” kind of person, even with his family or Faridah. “You’re kidding?” She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side. God she was beautifully annoying.

“As you have told me on numerous occasions, I don’t have a sense of humour when it comes to you,” he replied, straight-faced.

“Fine, you can just stand like a sulking Muppet and I’ll dance around you like a bloody maypole.” And she was off again, twirling around him whilst holding his shoulders as he kept his focus straight ahead, fighting the need and desire to track her every movement.

“A what?” he asked, when she finally came to a stop.

“Oh never mind.” She sulked again with her hands on her hips. Was she aware that the action caused her perfectly sized breasts to jut out even further? “It’s just as I thought,” she ranted at him.

“What is?” he asked, impatiently. The girl spoke in riddles.

“You’re too old to have fun. You act like an old fart. I can’t believe that I—” she waved her arms dismissively at him “—never mind. Your loss.” And with that she was off, leaving him standing there in the wake of Hurricane Halle, his mouth hanging open like a fish—or to use her earlier phrase, a Muppet.

He tracked her movements again as she laughed and joked with her friends at their table and finished off a long dark drink before she made her way back to the dance floor.

“She didn’t manage to get you dancing then?” Malik enquired as he handed him another beer and took up position at his side.

“Not a chance,” he replied, taking a long swig. He surveyed Malik and shook his head. “So what the hell have you come as and why didn’t you tell me it was fancy dress?”

“Me? Well I’m the American President.”

Jumal looked him up and down and gave him a puzzled look. “Which one?” he asked.

“Any. See, I’m wearing the little stars-and-stripes pin on my suit jacket.” He turned to show him the pin.

Jumal couldn’t help but chuckle. “That has got to be the worst fancy dress I have ever seen,” he teased, smiling.

“Hey, I have a slave driver for a boss and I was at work till late on a deal that’s going to get him in next year’s Forbes richest list. This was the best I could come up with. I thought it was inspired when I saw the pin in my desk drawer. Melina brought it back from her trip to New York last year. And I did try to tell you it was fancy dress but you hung up on me cursing, so—”

Their heads turned in unison towards the shrieks of delight coming from the dance floor as someone appeared to be trying their hand at breakdancing. Jumal had never understood the appeal of spinning on one’s head but then again, as Miss Darling had so eloquently put it, he was an old fart…and right now, yeah, he felt like one.

Chapter Four

Jumal glimpsed occasional flashes of orange on the dance floor but despite being a couple of inches over six foot he couldn’t quite see over all the bobbing heads and writhing and gyrating bodies.
Where the hell has she gone?
he thought, as he was forced to stand on tiptoe—a fact that grated on him no end.

“Who the hell is that guy?” he growled at Malik, having finally spotted her.

“Which guy?” Malik asked, trying to see through the human medley.

“
Which guy
?” Jumal repeated incredulously. “That one,” he shouted, pointing, “with his hands all over Pippa.”

“Ah right, that guy. Yeah well he’s the reason I called. Well one of the reasons, the other being I know you promised her brother when she came out here that you’d look after her and I have a feeling the night is going to get riotous quickly.” Jumal scowled as Malik took another swig on his bottle as if needing it for confidence. “Well anyway, she came with him.”

“She came with him,” Jumal repeated in disbelief. “What do you mean?” he asked, unable to stop his voice from rising. Oh this just got better. Not. He raked his hand through his hair. The bloody girl was going to make him go bald if he kept having this reaction to her youthful escapades.

“Just that, well actually she came with two men; one is a tall handsome blond bastard who seemed far too comfortable with his arm around Melina. I can’t see them anywhere.”

Jumal would have analysed his friend’s comments in more detail if he wasn’t completely focused on getting his head around the fact that Pippa had come with a man, correction: two men.

“I think this one’s her date, but I could be wrong,” Malik told him, nodding towards the dance floor. “In fact the rumour mill at the office is that she’s already stayed the night with him.”

Jumal choked on his beer. “Jesus who told you that?” he probed, trying to maintain some dignity as he cleared his throat and continued to cough up his lungs.

“Well, Reeta on reception told Conrad in accounts who told my secretary that he came into the office to bring her lunch box, which she’d apparently left at his place that morning.”

Jumal watched Malik wiggle his eyebrows and smile knowingly but quickly stop and clear his throat as he no doubt took in Jumal’s stony gaze.

Jumal took another swift drink and turned his attention back to the dance floor and away from Malik, but the view of Pippa gyrating her hips with another man was not appealing.

“It’s probably just gossip, Jumal,” Malik suggested, shrugging his shoulders. “You know what the office is like.”

Office gossip or not, Jumal was confused by his reaction to the news about Pippa. He didn’t like it—being confused, the gossip or his reaction. Ah great, more of those alien feelings she brought forth in buckets.

“Well, she looks pretty damn comfortable in his arms and he looks far too smug. He looks about eighteen for God’s sake. What is she dancing with him for anyway?”

“Presumably, because he asked her and he looks about her age, mate.” Jumal was tempted to throttle his friend. “But that’s just my guess,” Malik continued, shrugging his shoulders.

Jumal crossed his arms in front of him to avoid the temptation. “Well, whatever—” he said, shaking his head, knowing
he
now sounded like a sixteen-year-old, but he was worked up like a coiled spring. Again, only Pippa could shake his apparent legendary control.

“So did the IT team come back to you and confirm that they’d changed all the security access codes and shored up the firewall?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the bouncing orange bikini and the man who was dangerously close to losing his hands if he didn’t remove them from around Pippa’s waist.

“Yep, all done and they’ll continue to monitor over the next few weeks just to make sure there’s no attempt to hack our system.”

“Good.”

“So, erm, are you sure you shouldn’t call in the police?”

“No. We don’t need the negative publicity it would attract—not when we’re so close to signing the deal. I’ve appointed alternative counsel who is tying it all up and I’m going to go out there next week to put it all to bed and get it signed.”

“Okay, still, seems she got off lightly, Jumal.”

“She’ll never work in law again,” he said, his face deadpan and breaking his gaze from Pippa temporarily. “Plus she knows that I won’t hesitate to have a little chat with her parents about what she’s been up to with her friends in Dubai, and that would cause too much family embarrassment for her. She’ll just crawl back under a rock somewhere.”

“And are
you
okay?” Malik nudged his elbow with his bottle of beer, eyebrow raised.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” he replied dismissively, shrugging his shoulders.

He saw Malik purse his lips and nod.

Inwardly, Jumal was still struggling to maintain his composure and keep a lid on his rage following Faridah’s betrayal. After he challenged her, she’d eventually confessed the details of her betrayal to him and broken down in tears. Crocodile tears, he was sure. She’d begged him not to tell her parents of her indiscretion and he’d agreed on the basis that she’d write out a cheque there and then to his charity for the money she’d received from his Dubai competitor to include a default term in the contract which, if not spotted, could have cost his company millions. The naïve idiots had paid her for her treachery in advance. Arrogant fools.