Too Proud to be Bought (9 page)

‘Y
OU’VE
been remarkably quiet,
angel moy.’

Behind the protective shield of her sunglasses, Zara studied the powerful body of her Russian lover, which gleamed like a golden statue beneath the Mediterranean sun. They were sprawled on loungers beside the vast turquoise glitter of an infinity pool, where they’d spent the day drifting in and out of sleep.

Occasionally, they’d sipped at iced drinks which Nikolai had carried from the well-stocked fridge in the pool-house—in what seemed like a neat little bit of role-reversal. In air scented by roses and jasmine, they’d eaten the bread he’d brought back that morning—spread thickly with home-made fig jam—the most delicious meal she could ever remember eating. And if she had to keep reminding herself that she wasn’t dreaming, then who could blame her when this bore not even a passing resemblance to her real life?

‘Mmm?’ he prompted as he turned onto his side to look at her—at the shiny caramel-coloured hair, which was loose and spilling down all over the bright red triangles of her bikini top. Most women you couldn’t shut up once you’d made love to them. But not Zara. She’d said very little which wasn’t a breathless variation on his name. And, ironically, it made him curious about her in
a way he was rarely curious about a lover. ‘So why the sudden silence?’

Zara tried to concentrate on what he was saying to her, but it wasn’t easy when he was within touching reach and wearing nothing but a pair of sleek swim-shorts. Of course she hadn’t said much—she had been too dazed by what had been happening to her, and forcing herself not to question where it was all heading. And they had none of the equipment necessary for small talk, she realised. No mutual friends or acquaintances. They didn’t even have the shared experience of being the same nationality. In fact, when it boiled down to it, they had absolutely nothing in common except for this urgent sexual hunger which seemed to have taken both of them by surprise.

She shrugged. ‘Well, you’ve taken about five phone calls since we’ve been out here—and when you haven’t been doing that, you’ve—’

‘Been having wild and amazing sex with you?’ he finished silkily, enjoying the corresponding rush of colour which flooded into her face.

She laid a cool palm over her warm cheek. ‘You just struck me as the kind of man who wouldn’t be particularly interested in chit-chat,’ she added truthfully.

A smile curved the edges of his lips. ‘How very perceptive of you,’ he murmured. ‘Or maybe you’re much cleverer than I thought. Perhaps you’ve learnt the power of withholding information.’

‘You make it sound like some sort of secret war,’ she observed, with a sudden beat of misgiving.

‘Don’t they call it the battle of the sexes?’

She brushed an insect away from her arm. ‘That’s a little too complex for me, Nikolai. Deep down, I’m a simple soul.’

Intrigued now, he shifted his body slightly, so that
the curve of her hips and breasts were fully in his line of vision. ‘And apart from being a simple soul—what else are you, Zara? How come a woman like you ends up being a waitress?’

She watched the little ladybird spread its shiny, spotty wings and fly away before she looked up at him. ‘That’s a pretty insulting question to ask. There’s nothing wrong with being a waitress, you know.’

‘I’m not saying there is. You just struck me as someone capable of a job that’s a little more imaginative. Don’t you ever aspire to something other than offering plates of food to people whose palates are already jaded?’

Zara smiled—because in a way his deprecating comment was cleverly directed at himself. He was a man whose own palate was jaded, she recognised—and that might be one of the reasons she was here with him. Was she his ‘bit of rough', she wondered—someone different enough from his usual partners to awaken a bored appetite? ‘Of course I want to do something else with my life,’ she said. ‘But it’s not always as easy as that, and I don’t ever want to knock waitressing. It’s a fantastic job—it’s flexible and it’s varied.’

Folding his arms behind him, he pillowed his head on them and surveyed her from between narrowed eyes. ‘And that’s what you’ve always done? ‘

‘Not always, no. In a previous existence, I was an agricultural student,’ she said.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Unusual choice,’ he commented. ‘Any particular reason?’

‘Oh, the usual one. I just fell in love with the land.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I grew up in the city and that’s all I ever really knew—and then one day we went on a school trip to a farm. There were only cows and
sheep and a rather mangy old goat, but I was hooked. And that’s when I realised that grass and mud held a certain kind of appeal. I worked hard at school and got all my grades and was accepted at college.’

‘So what happened to make you jettison something you loved?’

She slid her shades up onto her head and looked at him. ‘You’re assuming something happened?’

‘Keen students don’t drop out unless they’re forced to.’

‘You’re right, of course. They don’t.’ There was a pause. ‘My godmother became sick—and I took some time out to care for her.’

‘How very admirable,’ he observed.

‘I didn’t do it to be admirable,’ she said sharply—because wasn’t there a wry undertone to his remark, as if she were making up some kind of sob story in order to tug at his heartstrings? Did people
do
that as well? she wondered suddenly. Try to engage his sympathy and hope that he’d put a big wodge of money their way?

She swallowed. ‘She’d never married nor had children of her own and she put her own life on hold to bring me up when my parents were killed. I loved her, and I owed her—big time. Only, after she’d died …’ Her words tailed off as a wave of sadness hit her.

His eyes narrowed as he saw her face crumple. ‘What?’ he asked softly.

Zara shifted slightly on the sun-lounger. ‘I seemed to have been away from college for so long, and to have seen so much of a different side of life, that I wasn’t sure whether I could go back and start all over again. Waitressing was something I could do without any qualifications while I gave myself time to think about my future. That’s what happened.’

But Nikolai still felt as if she was leaving gaps in her account. What did they call it? Being economical with the truth. What wasn’t she telling him, and why? ‘And what will you do when you go back—do you have other jobs like this lined up?’

It was the best question he could have asked, because it reminded her of the great gulf which divided them. Two people from two different worlds. All that had happened was that those two worlds had briefly collided and after the weekend the universe would settle back into its normal order.
So hold onto your dignity,
she told herself fiercely.
You may have barely a penny to your name—but he will never,
ever
take pity on you.

Hiding her fears behind a composed smile, she paused as if to give his question proper consideration. ‘I haven’t really decided what I’m going to do,’ she said blithely. ‘I’m waiting for inspiration.’

He saw the proud tilt to her chin and something stirred in his conscience. Had he misjudged her? Been too quick to spring to the conclusion that she was one of those women who wanted to get her hands on his money? She certainly hadn’t been acting that way since she’d been here. There had been none of that narrow-eyed assessment as she’d surveyed the priceless artefacts in his house. In fact, she’d been more interested in the flowers in his garden. And if she was a gold-digger, then she didn’t play by the traditional rules—because she certainly didn’t dress like one. He thought of the simple little sundress which had still managed to look like a million dollars. The cheap little sandals which showcased her wonderful legs. He thought about how hard she’d worked at lunch and dinner—carrying heavy trays in the warm Mediterranean air, while resolutely refusing to meet his gaze and flirt. Maybe he
had
misjudged her.

‘Well, if it’s inspiration you’re after, then maybe I can help with that.’ He rose from his sun-lounger, momentarily blocking out the sun with his statuesque form—all tight, hard muscle and gleaming golden flesh. ‘Ever swum naked before?’

She shook her head as she looked up at him. ‘Never.’

He took off his swim shorts, then bending over her, he smiled, wondering why her lack of sexual experience should please him so intensely. ‘Good,’ he murmured. ‘Then prepare to be inspired.’

He helped her off the sun-bed, then quickly divested her of her bikini top while she shimmed out of her bottoms. He lifted her up and slid her into water which felt like cool silk on her naked limbs. Zara could never recall feeling quite so weightless, or free before—and she kicked away from him instantly. She was a good swimmer and swam almost a length under water, emerging to blink away the shining droplets of water to find Nikolai leaning at the far end of the pool, watching her.

‘You swim like a mermaid,’ he said.

She laughed. ‘I seem to be missing a tail.’

He caught her by the waist as she passed, brushing his lips over her wet face. ‘I prefer legs,’ he said softly as he found the centre of her feminine warmth, erotically contrasted with the cool lick of the water. He moved a finger with light precision. ‘Don’t you?’

‘Without…question. Oh, Nikolai …’

His kisses were hot and hungry, his fingers practised and swift. The world became composed of nothing but intense sensation—and he brought her to orgasm so rapidly that Zara slumped helplessly against his shoulder, her eyes closed and her breath shuddering from her lips.

‘You liked that,’ he murmured eventually as her breathing slowed against his skin.

‘Mmm.’ Fractionally, she moved away from him—reaching down to capture the hard heat between his legs, her hand closing over his velvety shaft. ‘And do you like this?’

‘Yes, I like it,’ he ground out urgently as she slid her fingers over him with insistent, silky movements—until he, too, groaned his own release.

For a while they stayed locked in each other’s arms as the water lapped against them and then he lifted her from the water and carried her out to one of the loungers, where he wrapped her in a vast and fluffy towel.

He watched as her eyes drifted to a close and it occurred to him that maybe he could have offered her some more imaginative inspiration than mere sex. Couldn’t he have suggested a few of his wealthy colleagues who might be looking for permanent waiting staff—would that have helped? Maybe that was something he should bear in mind.

She was sleeping now, so he went and sat out of earshot and made a few more calls. And later, he took her out to dinner—after first reassuring her that the dress she’d brought from England was fine.

‘Honestly?’

‘Honestly,’ he said quietly. ‘The way your skin is glowing and your hair is shining—I think you could probably get away with wearing sackcloth.’

‘That’s not the most reassuring answer you could have given me, Nikolai,’ she said gravely, and he laughed.

Through the darkening mountains, they drove to St Jean Gardet—where the village had sprung to life. Zara looked around as the powerful car bumped to a halt in the main square, finding it hard to imagine that this was the same sleepy place she’d stumbled upon yesterday. Shops were open and people were strolling around in
holiday mood. Lights gleamed from trees and restaurant tables spilled out onto the cobbled stones, so that laughter and chatter carried on the still night air.

Beneath the stars, they ate
steak-frites
and drank red wine and Zara wished she could have hung onto that moment for ever.
Is this what it feels like when you start to fall in love?
she wondered as she stared across the table at Nikolai’s angled face.
As if everything is perfect and exactly as it should be. As if you have everything you ever wanted, right there at your fingertips.

‘It’s so gorgeous here,’ she said, looking around and trying to fix the moment in her mind. ‘And the woman who was so surly to me in the
tabac
has just said
“bon appétit”.’

‘That’s because you’re with me.’

She bit back a smile. ‘I’d sort of worked that one out for myself.’

He thought how huge her eyes looked tonight and how dark and kiss-bruised her lips. She had piled her hair up high on her head so that only a few loose tendrils were dangling down around her face—and it occurred to him that by now he should be growing a little bit bored. Too much unbroken time in one woman’s company was usually enough to make him want to make his excuses, and leave.

Usually.

He leaned back in his chair and studied her. Was it her lack of sophistication which was responsible for the unfamiliar sense of ease he was experiencing in her company? Or because he had known from the outset that there could be no future in it?
And there is no future in it,
he reminded himself as his pager went off in his pocket.

He took the call with the news that the New York
merger was finally going ahead—and in a way it made his decision for him. He would have to bring his schedule forward and cut short this weekend. He saw Zara’s tentative little smile at him over the rim of her glass and thought that maybe it was for the best—because he suspected she was starting to care for him, and that was certainly not what he had intended.

She was no virgin. In fact, she was one of the most exciting and inventive lovers he had ever known—and yet in a funny sort of way she seemed terribly innocent. She was also very sweet and he didn’t want her to get hurt. And didn’t he always hurt women—no matter how unintentionally—because he could never give them what they wanted?

‘Did I mention that I have to go to New York tomorrow?’ he questioned suddenly. ‘Which means that I’ll have to fly out first thing.’

Painfully, Zara’s heart slammed beneath her breast and the previous peace of the evening disintegrated. So this was it. The goodbye she had been expecting—only not quite so soon, nor quite so brutally executed. And she was going to have to take it on the chin.

‘No, no, you didn’t mention it.’ In the candlelight, she forced a bright smile. ‘But I was supposed to be leaving tomorrow anyway and I guess I
am
a little redundant—now that your guests have gone.’