AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We’re here now because you represented a way out of a situation I didn’t want,” she stated flatly.
“Which, in turn, represented a way into a situation I did want,” he slid back at her. “And both wants have their roots in the past…which definitely has not passed, Nicole.”
Not for him. It had only been sex on his mind then and he had the hots for her again now. This was just a second round of the same. But it was different for her. She’d been wildly, blindly, heart-wrenchingly in love with him. That definitely had passed.
Not wanting this subject pursued, Nicole kept her mouth firmly shut. Quin waved her to turn under an archway which led into a lobby housing a massive spiral staircase and a bank of elevators—marble tiles on the floor, marble walls, huge chandelier hanging from a ceiling, two storeys high—the kind of place that screamed exclusive to the very wealthy.
“Here we are,” he announced, using a key to operate one of the elevators.
The doors opened.
Quin ushered her into the softly carpeted compartment, stepped in after her, pressed a button marked P and closed out the rest of the world. P for penthouse, Nicole thought, panic skittering through her stomach as the elevator zoomed up to the private apartment where she would become Quin’s penthouse playmate. Would it be more pain than pleasure? Had she been completely mad to enter into this contract?
Think of what had been achieved for her mother, she told herself, trying desperately to appear calm and composed as Quin guided her into a fabulous living room. Dominating it were floor to ceiling windows, giving a spectacular view of Sydney Harbour stretching from Bennelong Point right out to sea. Nicole automatically walked over to it, needing to face something other than Quin’s material acquisitions, which had clearly meant more to him than she ever had.
The carpet underfoot was a soft teal colour. There were cream leather couches with lots of colourful scatter cushions, glass tables with creamy granite pedestals holding them up. Just props, Nicole thought in bitter dismissal. Status symbols. Expensive interior decoration did not make a home. Quin had never been interested in making a home.
It was a high view of the harbour. Although it was now dark outside, the foreshore with all its little coves was outlined by the lights of the houses crowding it. Boats riding at anchor could easily be seen, ferries carving through the water to their destinations. Nicole wondered if living up here made Quin feel he was on top of this city, king of his castle.
Did he know how empty his castle was, despite all his possessions, of which she was now one—but only a very temporary one.
Did he ever think this wasn’t enough?
She shook her head over the foolish questions.
They sprang from her own emotions, not his, and she was not—not—going to get emotionally involved with Quin Sola again!
Quin stood by the broad serving bench of the open plan kitchen, watching Nicole take in the multimillion dollar view. He made no move to join her, though he sensed she was armour-plating herself against the inevitable intimacy of the bedroom. Her shoulders were rigidly squared. Her stillness seemed to form a self-protective cloak. She would give what she had to give but nothing more.
Under normal circumstances, women coming here for the first time showed some curiosity or interest in his personal living quarters; checking out the furnishings, fossicking through his kitchen, making admiring comments. Nicole’s stiff back shut it all out and her silence affirmed her lack of caring. She no more wanted to be part of his life than she wanted him to be part of hers. The adamant rebuff of the butterfly gift underlined her determination to stay detached where it really counted—in her mind and heart.
He felt his own jaw tigh
ten with determination as he looked down at the chic boutique bag he was still carrying. Nicole had used the tissue-wrapped blue butterfly nestled inside as a weapon against him, telling him very sharply he didn’t belong in her world and she would not let him put even one small step into it. Nevertheless, her strongly negative reaction to the gift told him he could use it as a weapon, too, hitting at what obviously had some personal meaning to her.
“Would you like some coffee, Nicole?”
“Yes, please,” she answered without turning her head.
“You used to like cappuccino. My coffee machine can make it if that’s still your preference.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
A tight flat voice and still no glance around.
It increased Quin’s determination to crack the wall she was putting up between them. He made her coffee, opened a small box of Belgium chocolates, set both of them down on the low table which serviced the sofa closest to where she was standing. At the slight clatter of china on the glass surface of the table—or maybe it was the strong scent of the steaming hot coffee—she did turn, finally acknowledging his efforts to please her with a dry little smile.
“Chocolates, too,” she said as though mocking any attempt to sweeten her up.
“Since you’re so entranced with the view,” he drawled, mocking her right back. “I’ll leave you to enjoy it while I slip into something more comfortable. Excuse me, won’t you?”
The startled look on her face gave him immense satisfaction. He grinned to himself as he headed down the hall to his bedroom. It wasn’t his comfort on his mind. The aim was to keep tipping Nicole out of any comfort zone she thought she had, and there was nothing more effective to gain ground than a surprise attack.
Nicole frowned in confusion as Quin disappeared down a hall.
Slip into something more comfortable?
That was a woman’s line—a woman intent on seducing a man.
