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And judging by the look on her manager’s face, the drink spillage hadn’t gone unnoticed. Behind her smile Amber gritted her teeth, wondering if she’d taken leave of her senses when she’d stormed out of Conall’s office telling him she didn’t want his job. Had she really thought the world would be at her feet, waiting to dole out wonderful opportunities by way of compensation? Because life wasn’t like that. She’d quickly discovered that a CV riddled with holes and zero qualifications brought you few opportunities and the only work available was in places like this—an underlit hotel nightclub where nobody looked happy.
‘That’s the third drink you’ve spilled this week!’ The manager’s voice quivered indignantly as Amber grew closer. ‘Where did you learn to be so clumsy?’
‘I...I moved a bit too quickly. I thought he was going to pinch my bottom,’ babbled Amber.
‘And? What’s the matter with that?’ The manager glared. ‘Isn’t it nice to have a man show his appreciation towards an attractive woman? Why else do you think we dress you up like that? Well, you’ll have the cost of the drink taken from your wages, Amber. Now go and fetch him another one and, for goodness’ sake, try and be a bit friendlier this time.’
Amber could feel her heart thudding as the bartender put a fresh glass of fizzy wine masquerading as champagne on her tray and she began to walk back towards the man with piggy eyes. Just put the drink down carefully and then leave, she told herself. But as she bent down in front of him, he reached out to curve his fat fingers around her fishnet-covered thigh and she froze.
‘What...what are you doing?’ she croaked.
‘Oh, come on.’ He leered at her again. ‘No need to be like that. With legs like that it’s a crime not to touch them—and you look like you could do with a square meal. So how about we go up to my room after you finish? You can order something from room service and we can—’
‘How about you get your filthy hand off her right now, before I knock you into kingdom come?’ came a low and furious voice from behind her, which Amber recognised instantly.
The podgy hand fell away and Amber turned around to see Conall standing there—his rugged face a study in fury and his powerful body radiating adrenaline as he dominated the space around him. The lurch of trepidation she felt at his unexpected appearance was quickly overridden by the disturbing realisation that she’d never been so glad to see someone in her whole life. He looked so strong. So powerful. He made every other man in the room look weak and insubstantial. Her heart began to pound and she felt her mouth grow dry.
‘Conall!’ she whispered. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Well, I certainly haven’t come here for a quiet drink. I tend to be a little more discerning in my choice of venue.’ Raising his voice against the loud throb of music, he glanced around at the other cocktail waitresses with a shudder of distaste he didn’t bother to hide. ‘Get your coat, Amber. We’re leaving.’
‘I can’t leave. I’m working.’
‘Not here, you aren’t. Not any more. And the subject isn’t up for discussion, so save your breath. Either you come willingly, or I pick you up and carry you out of here in a fireman’s lift. The choice,’ he finished grimly, ‘is yours.’
Amber wondered if there was something wrong with her—there must be—because why else would the thought of the Irishman putting her over his shoulder make her heart race even harder than it was already? She could see her manager saying something to a burly-looking man who was standing beside the bar, and as the music continued its relentless beat she began to dread some awful scene. What if Conall got into a fight with Security—with fists and glasses flying?
‘I’ll get my coat,’ she said.
‘Do it,’ he bit out impatiently. ‘And hurry up. This place is making my skin crawl.’
She headed for the changing room—relieved to strip off the minuscule satin dress and fishnet tights and kick the scarlet shoes from her aching feet. Her skin was clammy and briefly she splashed her face with cold water, dabbing herself dry with a paper towel before slithering into jeans and a sweater. Her heart was racing when she reappeared in the club—thankful to find Conall still standing there, with the bar manager handing over what looked like a wad of cash, with a sour expression on her face.
‘Let’s go,’ he said as she approached.
‘Conall—’
‘Not now, Amber,’ he snapped. ‘I really don’t want to have a conversation with you here, in earshot of all this low life.’
His expression was resolute and his determination undeniable—so what choice did she have but to follow him through the weaving basement corridors of the hotel until they found the elevator which took them to the main lobby?
They emerged into the dark crispness of a clear spring night and Amber sucked in a lungful of clean air as a chauffeur-driven car purred to a halt beside the kerb.
‘Get in,’ said Conall and she wondered if he’d spent his whole life barking out orders like that.
But she did as he asked and a feeling of being cocooned washed over her the moment she climbed onto the back seat, because this level of luxury was reassuringly familiar. A luxury she’d been able to count on before Conall and her father had conspired to take it away from her. She glanced over at his hard profile as he got into the car beside her, and her temporary gratitude began to dissolve into a feeling of resentment.
‘How did you find me?’ she demanded as the powerful engine began to purr into life.
He turned to look at her and, despite the dim light of the car’s interior, the angry glitter in his eyes was unmistakable. ‘I had one of my people keep track of you.’
‘Why?’
‘Why do you think? Because you’re so damned irresistible I couldn’t keep away from you? I hoped I might be able to tell your father how well you were doing following your dramatic exit from my office.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Some hope. I should have guessed that you’d head for the tackiest venue in town in search of some easy money.’
‘So why bother coming to look for me if you’d already written me off as useless?’ she flared.
Conall didn’t answer straight away, because his own motives were still giving him cause for concern. He’d been worried about her ability to adapt to a hard world without the cushion of her wealth—yes. And he’d heard stuff about the club where she was working which made him feel uneasy. Yes. That, too. But there had been something more—something which wasn’t quite so easy to quantify—which had nothing to do with his moral debt to her father. Hadn’t there been a part of him which had admired the way she’d flounced out of his office? And he didn’t just mean the pleasure of watching the magnificent sway of her curvy bottom as she’d done so. The way she’d turned down his offer of a job with a flash of defiance in those emerald eyes had made him think that maybe there was a strong streak of
