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For working, Nik translated, she had probably arranged a charity fashion show or a masked ball, which was fine, but hardly enough to stimulate someone of her obvious intelligence. His dark brows flattened as he recognised but struggled to explain a sense of disappointment.
It wasn’t as though he had any expectations of her, and God knew she wouldn’t be the only titled socialite who didn’t hold down a real job. Maybe it was just that he was surrounded by strong, driven women. His mother was a partner in a law firm, who had raised brows when she had continued to work after she was married, and his sister juggled a successful career with motherhood. Ana might be in the fashion industry, but he knew that his sister would have been appalled if her daughter had thought being decorative was more important than getting an education, which made this friendship with Chloe all the more puzzling. He really couldn’t see what the two women had in common.
‘I don’t have my wallet with me, but I do have my chequebook and I am a dutiful brother,’ Nik said.
Before Chloe could react to the patronising undertone that brought a sparkle of annoyance to her eyes, across the table an elderly silver-haired Greek businessman began to laugh.
‘I wouldn’t be so quick to give her a blank cheque, my boy. If that young lady gets you in a headlock, she’s relentless.’
Nik elevated a dark brow. ‘I thought that was just a rumour.’
‘She’s cost me more than my wife.’
‘Which one, Joseph?’
The question caused a ripple of laughter around the table.
‘It’s all in a good cause,’ Tatiana said, patting his hand. The soft murmur of agreement that followed her words left Nik feeling excluded, as he seemed to be the only one who didn’t have a clue what the old man was talking about.
‘And what cause would that be?’
The rest of the table had returned to their own conversations and Nik’s curiosity was the only thing left to distract himself from the ache in his groin. Messing with the seating arrangements had seemed like a good idea at the time, but he really hadn’t factored in the painful strength of the hard throb of need, which was becoming increasingly impossible to think past.
Insane...When had a woman made him feel like this? He looked at her mouth, remembering how it had tasted, and wondered. Last night about three a.m. she had vanished from his dreams like mist, as she always did. What if he woke up with her in his arms for real? Would she and the nightmares be gone for ever?
Chloe shifted in her seat before looking up from her contemplation of her empty glass. Strands of blonde hair fell across her cheek and she brushed them away, puzzling at her own reluctance to discuss the subject so passionate to her heart. It struck her as ironic considering she’d spent the evening selling the cause, and in all honesty she felt she was pretty good at it.
‘Helping burns victims. Originally the idea was to raise money for specialised equipment for the NHS that under normal circumstances they can’t afford.’
It was the last thing he had expected to hear. ‘And now?’
‘Oh, we’ll still do all those things, but, in conjunction with that goal, we are also aiming to set up centres where there is access to physical therapy like physiotherapy, rehabilitation and so forth, alongside psychotherapy and counselling, plus the practical stuff like learning how to apply make-up to cover scarring and job retraining. In essence it will be a one-stop shop where people can access what they need or just come in for a cup of coffee and a chat.’
He watched her face change as she spoke and the animation was not something that could be faked. She was truly passionate about this charity. ‘That is a very ambitious scheme for someone so young.’
She lifted her chin. ‘I really don’t see how my age has anything to do with it, and I was always brought up to aim high.’
‘So you’re saying positive thinking works miracles?’
‘I’m not after miracles. Everything we are aiming for is achievable and I have the facts and figures to prove it. As for positive thinking...well, that is helpful, but there comes a point when action is needed. This isn’t some sort of game to me.’
‘I can see that.’ His admission came with some reluctance. He didn’t want to admire her; he wanted to bed her. Liking was not a prerequisite for compatibility in the bedroom. In fact, it was a complication.
‘So why this particular cause?’ he asked.
‘I met someone in hospital...’
‘You were ill?’ He visualised an image of her lying in a hospital bed and didn’t dare analyse the emotion that tightened in his gut.
She dodged his interrogative stare and looked down at her fingers, watching as they tightened around the stem of the wine glass she held. She had recovered her composure by the time she responded, explaining in a quiet measured voice wiped clean of any emotion, ‘I parted company with a motorbike.’ The shaky laugh was less planned. ‘Or so they tell me.’
The how and why remained a blank to this day. In fact the only thing she remembered that might not have been a dream was climbing on the bike calling to her sister to follow her, and then nothing until the smell of burning and sirens. If it hadn’t been for her brother-in-law she wouldn’t even remember that.
She wouldn’t be here at all.
Some people needed their drug of choice to be happy, but she was alive and that was all the buzz she needed. The knowledge that life was so fragile had made her determined to do something with her life that would leave something tangible behind.
‘I hope the driver didn’t get off scot-free.’ The corners of his mouth pulled down in disapproval as he imagined her slim arms around some leather-clad idiot, her lithe body pressing into him.
