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‘I know who it is,’ she said coolly, her heart still fluttering in her throat. Tucking her personal card in the pocket of his black jacket as she left his hotel room had been a wild gamble she’d thought that she’d lost. Even if he hadn’t found it before he’d jetted off to America, he knew where she worked and she was in the phone book
Her eyes darted around the almost empty office and she slumped lower in her seat so her head slipped below the level of her flat-screen display, giving her the illusion of privacy. She had endured a lot of ribbing from colleagues who had seen her leave the party with Drake, especially after her unprecedented late arrival at work the next morning. Luckily, none of them had really believed the fastidious Katherine Crawford capable of getting down-and-dirty on a first date with a serial womaniser, and their interest had rapidly faded on hearing that Drake had left the country.
‘I thought you might have forgotten me.’
Fat chance of that, with the reception area plastered with blow-ups of his latest book-jacket! Every morning when she came to work she was greeted at the door by his sexy grin and mocking brown eyes.
‘I have an excellent memory for trivia,’ she reminded him.
‘Ouch!’ he said, with the vocal equivalent of a rueful shrug. ‘I suppose I should be grateful that it’s your passion, then, as well as your profession.’
She found her toes curling inside her delicate pumps. How magnificently he turned his guilt to flattery. ‘Most researchers have university degrees—I got lucky when I did a work experience with Enright’s just as they were setting up their own PR department,’ she found herself telling him. ‘Marcus noticed how much I enjoyed reading and how good I was at ferreting out interesting facts for people, and offered me on-the-job training if I stayed. It turned out to be a perfect fit. I like being able to come up with things that surprise and intrigue people.’
‘So, I guess you already know that although Hemingway and Faulkner were included in the writing credits for the movie, a lot of the dialogue in To Have And Have Not was actually improvised on set.’
‘Which goes to show that even great authors don’t always get it right,’ she shot back, feeling exhilarated and alive again for the first time in a month, but unwilling to let him entirely off the hook. She cupped a hand over her phone as the last of her co-workers in the open-plan office switched off his computer and began loading his briefcase. ‘Why are you calling, Drake?’
There was a brief pause during which she visualised him smiling with that irresistible twist of self-derisive arrogance.
‘I’ve forgotten how to whistle,’ he drawled. ‘I thought you might bring your lips over to remind me.’
Hope burned incandescent, even as she cautioned herself to wariness. Drake was never going to fit into the mould of a conventional lover.
‘To New York?’ Enright Media subscribed to a multimedia clippings service for all its clients. In spite of her pretence of indifference in front of her colleagues, it had been impossible to resist snooping through the press reports of his trip. He had been last spotted at a famous nightclub in the Big Apple, with the usual phalanx of eager acolytes.
‘I’m back in Auckland…at the penthouse.’
She closed her eyes at the powerful memories invoked by his words. ‘And obviously at a loose end,’ she said wryly.
‘I have plenty to do. I’d just rather do it with you,’ he said with seductive simplicity. ‘There’s a party I’ve been invited to tonight—I thought you might like to go.’
Yes! He wasn’t just calling her for a quick sexual fix!
‘And afterwards we could come back here…’
Her nipples hardened against her blouse. ‘Let me guess—you have a DVD of To Have And Have Not for us to watch,’ she murmured, giving a weak waggle of her fingers to her colleague as he headed out with a casual reminder of the usual after-work session at a trendy local watering hole.
‘Well…that, too, of course…’ he said, and she could hear the sexy amusement in his voice. ‘Although, tradionalist that I am, I was going to suggest Casablanca.’
He would. Romantic but ending in a bittersweet parting—yes, that would appeal more to Drake’s cynical nature than the hopefully upbeat ending for the wise-cracking hero and heroine of To Have And Have Not.
‘As long as you understand I can’t stay the night—I have to start work early tomorrow,’ she warned him, drawing her definitive line in the sand. She was never going to risk reliving the painful awkwardness of that first morning-after. She inhaled a deep breath and took the plunge. ‘After all, we don’t want to make this into something it’s not…’
There was an edgy silence. ‘You’re a devil for matching the quotation to the moment, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘Agreed.’ His voice deepened to that spine-tingling drawl that made her feel weak as water. ‘I’ll just have to make sure that we cram everything in before the witching hour…’
And cram they did. For two years their affair had been a case of feast and famine, with neither side willing to admit to any vulnerability. Had they both been so busy protecting themselves that they had wrecked any chance of building a real relationship?
Kate shaded her forehead with the flat of her hand as she stared up at the lone figure on the balcony. That wary stillness was so characteristic of Drake, the watchful vigilance of a man who had to constantly guard himself against the world. He never spoke about his childhood except in the vaguest of terms, but there had to be something there that had warped his ability to trust…particularly women. He sloughed off praise and criticism with equal ease, using his cynical brand of humour to appear open and gregarious, while in fact revealing little about himself that wasn’t already in the public arena.
How long had they been standing there staring at each other, separated by more than just the physical space between them—Drake perched on his high, lonely pedestal, Kate grounded in the ordinary, everyday world he had left behind?
On impulse Kate lifted her hand and waved. For a moment she thought she saw his hand twitch on the shiny aluminium rail as if he was going to wave back, but then she saw Melissa move out from the shade of the house onto the sunlit balcony, and put her hand on his bare arm. He turned to accept the cup she handed him, sliding a brown arm across the back of her dazzling white top as they both retreated inside the house.
At least they weren’t having breakfast in bed! thought Kate savagely, letting her hand drop to her somersaulting belly.
‘It’s OK, little one, I won’t let that wicked witch keep your stupid daddy walled up in his ivory tower,’ she soothed.
Her green tea had gone cold, and she was tipping it onto the sand when she noticed what was happening to her abandoned breakfast dish.
