Operation Valentine (12 page)

He looked up to find Chloe standing on the other side of the bar. ‘How the hell did you get here?' he asked a little too sharply.

‘I took a bus.'

Owen put down the bottle he was holding and wiped his hands. ‘You shouldn't be here. You know how I feel about you coming to the bar.'

‘I had to ask her myself.' Chloe pouted stubbornly.

‘Well, as you can see,' Owen folded his arms, ‘you've wasted your time. She's not here.'

‘It's Valentine's Day.' His daughter stubbornly put her hands on her hips. ‘She'll be here, eventually.'

‘No, she won't,' he sighed, wishing now that he had never said anything to his daughter about his feelings for Sarah. She had noticed straight away when his mood that week had gone from cranky to crankier and sad to even sadder. She was not put off when he told her that he'd changed his mind about asking Sarah out. Instead, she was angry – demanding to know the reasons. In the end, when she refused to stop nagging, he'd had to tell her everything, including the fact that Sarah was seeing someone else. But she didn't believe it.

Couldn't accept it.

He had no idea why, considering he'd even told her he'd met Jason in person, so the man definitely existed. ‘Chloe,' he turned to his daughter now, his voice dripping in frustration, ‘she's got her work function on tonight, remember? And she has a date for that.'

Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘She won't have a date, Dad. She's cursed. And pretty soon she's going to end up here to drown her sorrows.'

Aah, the simplistic view of a child.
A lovely thought, but completely far-fetched.

‘Chloe, I'm taking you home.' He tried to keep his voice low and rational as he walked around the bar to her side.

‘No.' Chloe stamped her foot. ‘I'm waiting until she turns up.'

‘You need to keep your voice down.' He glanced around nervously as he noticed that some bar patrons were starting to turn to see what the commotion was, including two young women seated at a table not far from where they were talking. If his daughter didn't lower her voice, they'd be able to hear every word.

‘I don't care. She can't just walk out of our lives like this without an explanation.'

‘There was an explanation,' he said through his teeth. ‘She met someone else. I told you that.'

‘That's rubbish,' Chloe snapped loudly. ‘She likes you. I know she does. You two just need to sit down and talk. Work this thing out.'

‘Chloe,' he said firmly, trying to grab her arm but she hastily jumped out of his reach. ‘This is exactly what I was afraid of – you getting too attached to the women in my life. It's probably better that Sarah and I never got together.'

‘How can you say that?' She clenched her fists. ‘She was perfect for you. You love her!'

Her words affected him like a physical blow and he grabbed her roughly. ‘That's enough. We're leaving.'

As he spun her in a circle, he noticed that the two women at the table near them had stood and were now blocking his path. They both looked incredibly excited.

Great!

Now his life was a free episode of
The Bold and the Beautiful
.

‘Excuse me,' he ground out. ‘We need to get through.'

‘Wait.' The tall blonde held up her hands and he now, belatedly, realised he recognised her. Wasn't she the woman who had interrupted him and Sarah while they were having dinner the other week? As if to confirm his thoughts, she said, ‘We're friends of Sarah's and your daughter is right.'

‘What are you talking about?' he rasped, though his heart had already kicked up a notched.

‘Sarah doesn't have a date tonight.'

‘Jason is married,' the brunette at her side added for good measure. ‘She dumped him and is going to the ball alone.'

‘
What?
'

Chloe's face lit up, her lips stretching from ear to ear. She shook his arm as he stood there stunned. ‘You have to rescue her, Dad. Just like Prince Charming in the fairytale.'

‘Yes,' Sarah's friends both nodded their agreement. ‘That's
exactly
what you should do.'

From her vantage point, Sarah scanned the ballroom, biting her lip anxiously. Everything was exactly how it should be. The chairs were beautifully wrapped. The cupids on the pillars regally poised. The table centres, a floral wonder of red roses. The entire room glittered from the sparkling chandeliers to the silver and gold confetti sprinkled on the tables.

She should feel proud of herself.

And she did.

No one would suspect from looking at this room that Penwick Pty Ltd was in any sort of financial trouble or that jobs were on the line. But it was Valentine's Day. And the curse, as usual, was in full swing. There was no date on her horizon and she was all alone in this sea of revelry. She really shouldn't have expected anything less. She fingered the silky blue chiffon of her dress. It was a beautiful design and on any other night she would have felt like a princess. Today she just wanted to get the evening over with.

Yesterday, when she had rung Amy to cry on her shoulder, her friend had scarcely believed the news that Jason was married.

‘No way! The bastard. Are you sure?'

‘It was pretty cut and dry. I couldn't really misinterpret it. To be honest, I'm almost thankful. He was always more of a friend than a boyfriend. I just couldn't seem to find a zing with him.'

‘A zing?' Amy repeated.

‘You know,' Sarah had responded glumly, ‘that electric current that shoots up your back whenever you see him standing there across the bar looking at you.'

‘Bar?'

‘D-did I say bar?' she stuttered. ‘I meant room.'

‘A blue room, I suppose,' Amy groaned. ‘Please don't tell me you've still got Owen Black on the brain.'

‘Okay,' Sarah agreed, ‘I won't tell you.'

Amy sighed. ‘What are you going to do about this?'

‘What can I do? I'm just going to go to that ball alone tomorrow night and hope and pray it doesn't cost me my job.'

And so here she was, doing just that. Though saying the words had been much easier than actually completing the task. Guests were starting to walk in now. The women in their long, shimmering evening gowns, the men in their smart tuxes or suits. Staff she had appointed were greeting them at the door, ticking the names off and directing the guests to their tables. There really wasn't anything else for her to do but head over to her own chair and face the music. Mr Penwick would see immediately that she had not filled the extra seat at his table as he had specifically requested. The other guests would provide a buffer for his anger tonight, but there would no doubt be some glares and a few heavily loaded remarks to keep her sweating till Monday.

Best get it over with.

To her chagrin, she was the last to arrive at her table, so she couldn't even disguise the fact that she was alone. They were already seated as she walked up, the two vacant chairs at the round table for twelve so glaringly obvious it was embarrassing. To make matters worse, the guests all rose to greet her.

‘Aah, Sarah.' Mr Penwick, who was standing next to his rather austere-looking wife, held out his palm to her, covering both their hands with his other one when she reached over to take it. ‘You've done a fabulous job with the venue.'

‘Yes, it's magnificent, Sarah,' Eric Crown, the president of the Cancer Foundation, smiled his agreement.

‘Thank you.' She inclined her head. At least she had
a few
points in her favour. But the feeling of success was short-lived as Mr Penwick began to peer around her as though she were hiding someone behind her back.

‘Did you bring anyone?'

‘Er …'

And then she saw him, in a black tuxedo, crisp white shirt and smart bow tie. Incredibly, Owen Black was here and crossing the floor towards her. Broad shouldered and heartbreakingly handsome, he was like an image out of a dream. Her prince, come at last. Those lips that had both teased and taunted her for weeks stretched into a devastating smile as he took her in. His eyes roved over her body from head to foot, rising goosebumps on her bare shoulders. When he looked at her like that, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the room. Her hand went to her throat so that she might catch her breath.

‘Sarah?' Her eyes flew from Owen to Mr Penwick, whose expression had morphed from pleasant to cranky. ‘Where is your partner?'

‘Just running late.' Owen had by now arrived by her side and she felt his hand on the back of her neck. When his thumb caressed the skin there, she almost died from the sensation. Luckily, he also took over the conversation at that point so she wasn't called upon to formulate words. He stretched out a hand to Mr Penwick. ‘Hi, I'm Owen Black.'

Mr Penwick's dark expression cleared. ‘Nice to meet you. This is my wife, Chelsea, and my vice-president, Simon Fairmount.'

As the rest of the table introduced themselves, including Mr Penwick's secret guest of honour, Andrew Whenam, Sarah's heart rate began to slow down, but only slightly.

Can it be possible?

I have a date for Valentine's Day.

And not just any date.

But the man I'm in love with.

She pinched herself.

‘Ouch.'

Owen looked down at her as everyone took their seats. ‘Are you okay?'

‘I think so,' she breathed, trying to stall her imagination which seemed to be racing away with her. Owen was not a handsome prince come to claim her. He was a playboy, who liked being her friend, nothing more. What was he up to? After all, there had to be some catch, didn't there?

As the other guests became distracted by a waiter offering wine, she leaned over and whispered, ‘What are you doing here?'

‘Your friends Mia and Amy said that Jason wasn't coming.'

She wanted to shrink into her chair in humiliation. ‘Did you hear why?'

‘Yes.' He grinned.

‘I bet you're as pleased as punch to be right about him.'

His grin broadened. ‘As a matter of fact, I am.'

‘So you're here to gloat.'

‘Amongst other things.' He leaned a little closer. ‘I like your dress.'

Liquid heat coiled through the body. ‘Um … thanks.'

There was no time to talk further, as Mr Penwick was giving her the look. She knew it was time to open proceedings. As the organiser of this ball, it was her privilege to welcome everyone and then introduce Mr Penwick as the keynote speaker. She got up from her chair and went to a podium at the front of the room to make the opening address. As she forged her way through the five-minute speech, welcoming sponsors and donators, the only person in the room she was really speaking to was Owen. His eyes remained glued to her, his expression maddeningly like that of someone who was proud of her.

Surely not?

Bad boy Owen was lethal enough without adding supportive, caring Owen to the mix. By the end of the night her heart was going to be in tatters. How was she going to get through this?

By staying focused on the job.

So she took her eyes from Owen and didn't look at him again for the rest of the speech. When she returned to the table she concentrated all her energies on wooing Mr Crown and making sure Mr Penwick had ample opportunity to talk to Mr Whenam. When conversation was flowing too smoothly to warrant her interference, she got up to check on the kitchen and venue staff. Who, in turn, began to get annoyed as this happened far more than was necessary. If Owen noticed she wasn't talking to him, he certainly didn't let on, regaling the other guests at the table with a
few funny stories from his bar whilst shamelessly charming the pants off the ladies. They were all at least fifteen years older than him and flirted with him much like one would give a young pup a scratch under the chin. As far as they were concerned, he was bright young Lothario provided for their entertainment. Which, Sarah supposed, in a certain way he was. It didn't stop her, however, from feeling irrationally jealous at their harmless banter.

Mr Penwick certainly approved of him, nodding at her several times in discreet endorsement. But by the end of dinner she was emotionally exhausted and, under the pretence of checking on the venue staff once more, she left the table.

Instead though, she went through some double doors that led outside onto a large balcony overlooking the city. She breathed deeply of the cool night air as she took in the gorgeous view of Perth. The building lights glittered at her as she rested her hands lightly on the railing, wondering what the hell she was going to do with Owen Black.

‘I thought I'd find you out here.'

Speak of the devil.

She turned around to find him standing quite close to her. Her heart nattered wildly in her chest.

‘It's a great event, Sarah,' he said. ‘You've really outdone yourself. I don't see how your boss could fail to be impressed.'

‘Thank you,' she said tightly.

He put a hand on the rail next to her waist, making her feel surrounded. But she firmly stood her ground.

‘Sarah, have I done something to upset you?'

‘No.' She shook her head, staring firmly at his top button, which seemed to be awfully close all of a sudden. ‘I'm just a little confused, that's all.'

‘About what?'

‘Why are you even here? You don't do Valentine's Day, remember?'

‘No, not usually,' he agreed and the air around them seemed to thicken further. ‘It's very much an established couple thing, isn't it? And we're just friends.'

‘About that.' She stopped him with a hand on his chest. His warmth seeping into her palm made her bite her lip. She didn't want to say it but knew for her own sake it was necessary. ‘I …' She took a deep breath. ‘I don't think I can be your friend anymore.'

He nodded with a husky lilt in his voice. ‘You're right. It's just not working out, is it?'

She glanced up sharply, her eyes widening, as she snatched her hand away – panic setting in. She had to harden her resolve now before her body surrendered under the power of her attraction.

‘Owen, I don't want to have a fling with you,' she said quickly, her voice trembling as his arms encircled her.

‘Then we won't.'

‘I'm serious.' She shut her eyes, trying desperately to regain control of the situation.

He touched his forehead to hers, his lips a mere hair's breadth away. ‘So am I.'

‘W-what?' She glanced up, a wetness starting to fill her eyes. She blinked hastily.

‘Ever since Amanda died,' he said with a graveness she had never seen on him before, ‘I've shut the door on a part of my life to protect myself and my daughter. But when you showed up, you flung it wide open and I can't seem to close it now.' She waited as though suspended over a precipice. ‘My problem is,' he said softly,
‘whenever I look at you, I see all the things that I never desire from a woman and find myself wanting them.'

She sucked in a breath. ‘Like what?'

He cupped her face, brushing her cheek with his thumb. The gentle caress nearly made her legs buckle beneath her. His eyes glittered with the city lights, his voice sweet, seductive and deliberate. ‘Like Christmas and Easter and Valentine's Day. Like babies and marriage and growing old. Like buying a house, going on holiday and … falling in love.'

Her lungs filled with air so fast she felt giddy.

‘So I was wondering if I might ask you on a date,' he said with a lazy smile. ‘A proper one, where I buy you dinner and you wonder whether I'm going to kiss you goodnight but I don't because I respect you too much. And so we go out again, until pretty soon you're calling me your boyfriend and you're so completely and madly in love with me you take your profile off that stupid bloody website. Because I couldn't cope if another man like Jason came along. Damn near killed me seeing you with him the first time.'

Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it had moved up her chest and into her head.

‘So what do you think? Do you think you could do that for me? At least see how it goes?'

‘Oh, Owen.' She lifted her hands to touch his face as well. ‘I don't need to see how it goes. I'm already in love with you.'

‘Thank God,' he said. ‘Because I'm definitely already in love with you.'

Then he bent his head to take her lips, his fingers threading into her hair, angling her face to receive him. It was the most beautiful kiss she had ever experienced.
Urgent, passionate but gentle. Everything he had just said to her, he said again, except this time with his body. She threw her arms around his neck and he drew her closer, moaning against her mouth as she fit her body right into his. The world whirred around them but they remained untouched by it, caught in the magic of the moment. Too long had they danced on the edge of this feeling. Too many stolen glances, too many fleeting caresses. Too many instances when they had doused the fire smouldering between them.

Now finally they had their roaring blaze.

And, boy, did they let it burn.