The Collector's Edition Volume 1 (52 page)

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Authors: Emma Darcy

BOOK: The Collector's Edition Volume 1
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He laughed and turned towards the car. “I gave up believing in heaven a long time ago.”
“Yes. I guess you did,” she agreed, falling into step beside him.
He was hard, cynical and self-sufficient apart from needing an obliging partner to satisfy his sexual drive. On his terms. Beth felt quite certain Jim Neilson no more believed in love than he believed in heaven. He wouldn’t promise it, either. He wouldn’t stoop to that kind of dishonesty. There was a rough kind of integrity in the challenge he undoubtedly threw out to women.
Take me as I am or walk away.
But he had pursued her.
Though what that meant Beth was yet to find out.
At least the crackling tension between them had eased, she thought, wryly putting that down to the sexual release they had shared. It was almost a companionable walk to the Porsche. Jim Neilson unlocked and opened the passenger door for her with casual courtesy. She stepped in without hesitation or apprehension. Impossible to imagine anything of any great moment happening that could top what had already happened.
She fastened her seat belt and relaxed into the comfortable leather seat as he rounded the car to the driver’s side. He opened the door, bent down, picked up the papers from his seat and tossed them onto her lap.
“Yours,” he said, as he settled behind the driving wheel.
“What do you mean, mine?” she asked, frowning at the legal papers pertaining to the sale of the property.
He closed his door, fastened his seat belt, switched on the engine and thrummed up the revs before he answered her. “You wanted this property. I bought it for you. It’s yours, free and clear.”
He gave her a sizzling look to confirm his gift, then gunned the motor and swung his Porsche away from the house he had paid for, speeding down the road to the gateway, away from the land he didn’t want, heading fast out of the valley he preferred to forget.
S
HOCK kept Beth silent. She was vaguely aware of valley landmarks flashing past them, but her mind was in too much turmoil to take them in as she had during the drive with Aunty Em. Jamie—Jim—made no comment on anything. He was probably waiting for some response from her. His gift of her old family property certainly rated one.
“Why?” she finally asked.
He shrugged and slanted her a sardonic smile. “I can afford it.”
“I don’t doubt you can, but... that doesn’t answer my question.”
A sharp, hard probe from dark, fathomless eyes. “Does it matter to you?”
“Yes,” she answered vehemently. “I can’t just accept—” she gestured agitatedly “—so much.”
“Why not?”
“I wouldn’t feel right about it.”
He pondered that response for a while, then gave her a derisive look. “I accepted a lot from you and your family in years gone by.”
Aunty Em’s words flashed into Beth’s mind.
Perhaps Jamie feels he owes you.
She shook her head. It was wrong to reduce kindness and consideration and friendship to some mercenary level. To offer chequebook generosity to clear some perceived debt seemed almost offensive to the spirit of including him in their family fold.
“None of what was given to you by my family was ever given with the thought of being repaid,” she asserted strongly, her distress at the idea creeping into her voice as she added, “surely you know that!”
“Of course I do,” he agreed easily. “None of you could have possibly foreseen that I’d ever amount to anything.”
The lightly mocking tone set her nerves on edge again. It was a more subtle fight, but he was fencing with her, not letting her into his mind. She sensed her words were bouncing off his habitual suit of armour, not penetrating at all. Jim Neilson was on his own somewhere, as unreachable as ever.
“Though it’s been quite amazing how many people have climbed out of the woodwork since I have proved worth knowing,” he drawled. “People who’ve had no contact with me for years. People I don’t even recognise.” He flashed her an ironic smile. “Usually they want something from me.”
Beth flushed in mortification as she realised what he was implying, what he thought!
“Sometimes I give it. Sometimes I don’t,” he went on, his tone hardening. “I guess you knew that.”
“No. I didn’t,” she protested, almost swallowing the words, shrinking from the cynicism she realised was based on experiences that would sour even a giving heart.
She’d had no idea he’d been pestered by people for handouts on-the basis of having known him in less fortunate circumstances. It appalled her that he was putting her in the same class—a parasite on the fortune he’d made for himself.
“You of all people could have come to me straight, Beth. You didn’t have to bait the hook.”
Bait the hook
? She stared at him incredulously, her flush heating into a painful burn at his interpretation of her actions. He was putting her in the same class as a whore who used sexual performance to draw what she wanted out of a client. And it was true in a way, though it hadn’t been money on her mind. Never money.
He gave a dark chuckle. “I must say I’m glad you did. I wouldn’t have missed last night and this afternoon for anything. You are one hell of a woman.”
“So you said,” she muttered bitterly, sickened by his view of her. It was so twisted, horrible. Her self-respect demanded she correct it. “Let me get this straight, Jim Neilson. You think I played you along to draw you into providing backup finance in case I couldn’t buy the farm.”
His eyes glittered briefly at her. “Don’t keep playing me for a fool, Beth. I’ll admit I’ve never been on the receiving end of a more masterly piece of manipulation. It was psychologically brilliant. You had me skidding down a guilt trip this morning.”
She hadn’t planned it. Not any of it. Her heart was pumping furiously. It was difficult to keep her mind clear, to pursue this abomination right down the line.
“But you’d reasoned it all out by the time you got to the farm,” she prompted, remembering the searing look in his eyes as he’d mockingly asked,
What have you become
?
“That’s what I do best. Add up all the factors forming market forces and use the emerging pattern as a springboard to jump ahead of everyone else in foreseeing where the profit’s going to be.”
“Don’t you ever make a mistake?”
“Not often, and never a big one.”
Welcome to a huge one, buster
! “I see,” she said, covering her inner seething with a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “So where is the profit in this deal for you?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
“You’re giving me the property. What do you get?” she prodded.
A smile lurked on his lips.
She hated him.
“Free of guilt?” she mocked.
He laughed. “You excite me more than any woman I’ve ever met. And the feeling’s mutual.” His eyes threw her a hot challenge. “Isn’t it, Beth?”
Impossible to deny, even though she was sizzling with rage. She fixed her attention on the road, letting her silence seed doubts in him. If he ever allowed himself doubts. She wanted to pour scorn on his head, attack him tooth and claw for drawing such a sleazy picture of her, but she’d given the primitive streak in her too much rein as it was. Now was the time for rigid control, cool dignity, unshakable resolution.
They were out of the valley. The road sign directing them onto the expressway was right ahead of them. She had to play her cards right to get rid of Jim Neilson. He was a burr under her skin that had to be torn out. She’d patch over the wound somehow once she was free of him.
“It’s not over,” he said as though acknowledging it to himself. “Maybe it will burn itself out in time. Who knows? As I see it, we take it as far as it goes.”
Buying time
!
“That’s the profit, is it?” She managed an ironic smile. “You bought the farm to keep me on as your sexual partner.”
“Let’s say the farm is more accessible to Sydney than Melbourne is. For both of us.”
“A love nest?” she mocked.
“Hardly. With your father there.” He shot her a smouldering look. “Would it be a hardship for you to drive to Sydney? I’m sure you could invent the occasional errand.”
Of course, she thought derisively. Jim Neilson didn’t want to come to the valley. Bad karma for him. He thought he was in the box seat, having handed over her father’s dream on a plate, and he was now spelling out his terms. Jim Neilson wasn’t about to come down from his mountain. He wanted her on top of it. Until she wasn’t
exciting
any more.
They zoomed onto the expressway, and with a bit of deft handling, the Porsche was swiftly steered into the fast lane. Naturally. Nothing slow for this man.
“I suppose I should feel flattered you paid so much for me,” she said, her voice projecting light amusement. “It’s nice to know my value.”
It earned a glowering look. “I’m not buying you. I simply wanted you satisfied.”
“Oh, I am.” Knowing what was in his mind cleared up all the mystery for her. She let a smile linger on her lips as she looked at his thighs, deliberately holding her gaze there as she added, “Though I think you underrate yourself. You’re quite a pistol, Jim.”
She sensed him weighing the comment, sifting it from every angle, doing his brand of mathematics on it. Nevertheless, there probably wasn’t a man alive who didn’t respond positively to having his virility tagged with dynamic potency. Beth looked away, wishing she could castrate him. Which just went to prove he was still striking some savage strain in her.
“Are you staying with your aunt in Sydney?”
There was calculation behind that question. No doubt he wanted to show her his pistol was a six-shooter.
Is he riding for a fall
! Beth thought viciously. And she was just the person to make the fall as hard as it could be!
“No. I’m by myself. Staying at the Ramada Hotel in Ryde,” she answered casually.
“Are you free to have dinner with me?”
The wolf’s appetite was whetted. “In your apartment again?” she asked pointedly.
A wicked grin, twinkling with arrogant confidence. “We could pick up some food along the way. What do you like? Italian? Chinese? Indian?”
“I take it you don’t want to hang around in a restaurant,” she said dryly, reading him with ease. Why waste time when he could be feeding every appetite?
A flick of eyes already simmering with anticipation. “Not as intimate. But if you’d prefer it...”
He was prepared to wait an hour or two. “Sometimes it pays not to rush,” she said, loading the words with suggestive meaning.
He liked it. She could feel his delight, excitement building, the imaginative leap to sexual flirtation over and under a table in a public restaurant. It lent an extra edge to what would follow. Little did he know he was about to be paid out for rushing into judgment on her!
“Where would you like to go?” he asked.
Beth cynically supposed money could find a table for two in most restaurants, even though it was a Saturday night and the more fashionable and popular places would be fully booked. “Let me think about it,” she said, leaving the promise hanging.
The Porsche was eating up the road. At the rate they were travelling, the outskirts of Sydney were not far away. Another twenty minutes or so. She needed to soak up time to play out her hand for maximum impact.
He gave her five minutes before prompting, “Tell me what you fancy. If you don’t know many places in Sydney...”
“I don’t. Better for you to decide.” She offered him a teasing smile. “Surprise me. You’re very good at that.”
“You have quite a talent for it yourself,” he said with an appreciative sparkle.
Wait for it, lover
, she silently commanded him. “I want to go to my hotel first. I’d like to change out of these clothes.”
“First stop, the Ramada,” he readily agreed.
“It’s along Epping Road.”
“I know it.”
“Good. Then if you don’t mind, I’ll close my eyes for a while. I’ll be much fresher after a catnap:”
“Go ahead.” He gave her a teasing smile. “I’ll think of a way to wake you up.”
The claws would be out so fast he wouldn’t see them coming.
Beth closed her eyes on that venomous thought. She didn’t go to sleep. Her mind was like a bed of nails, thinking what a fool she’d been, chasing after dreams that should have been laid to rest years ago. She could certainly forget them now. Though maybe Jim Neilson would put the farm on the market once he realised it wouldn’t buy what he wanted.
No reason for him to keep it. And the carbuncle man was of the opinion it would not fetch such a high price again. If she contacted the real estate company that had run the auction, let them know she was still an interested party should the new owner want to sell, a bargain might be struck at a price she could afford.
Though it would probably be wise to arrange it through some agent, not use her name. Jim Neilson was not going to like swallowing the mistake he had made. He wouldn’t want her to profit by it. Wiser in the long run for her to forget the whole thing, just wipe it off the possibility register. Yet there was still her father to consider.
Sick at heart, she wished her aunt had never told her about the auction, never shown her the item in the society pages mentioning Jim Neilson as one of the invited guests to the exhibition opening at the Woollhara gallery. This whole trip had been a disaster from start to finish.
Well, not quite, she corrected herself. The visit to her publisher’s Sydney office had been productive. Her books were selling so well, a larger print run was being considered. Not bad for children’s books.
Jim Neilson hadn’t even asked her what she did for a living. So much for any interest in her as a person! He probably thought she sponged off lovers. It was laughable, considering how few men there had been in her life. Only Gerald, in any serious sense. And why she had hung onto him for so long, she didn’t know. Easier to drift than to break away?
She would have no problem breaking away from Jim Neilson!
Beth felt her jaw clenching and forced herself to relax again. They had to be in Sydney suburbia by now. The Porsche had stopped several times, signalling the occurrence of red traffic lights. It was time to get her mind into gear for the final showdown.
Jim Neilson was about to be proved right in one sense. She’d had no thought of playing him along last night or this morning, but she had certainly done it since leaving the valley. She hoped it would leave as bitter a taste in his mouth as he had left in hers. She was not a vengeful person by nature, but somehow he stirred a depth of passion that made hitting him where it hurt seem right. Necessary. Aunty Em would probably call it pride.

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