Just One More Night

Nick sent her another assessing glance. Despite her intention to be cool and distant and, as she’d done the previous evening, pretend that she didn’t look a whole lot different than she had a month ago, Elena’s pulse rate accelerated. Even though she knew she looked her very best, thanks to the efforts of the beauty spa, she was still adjusting to the changes. Having Nick Messena put her new look under a microscope, and wondering if he liked what he saw, was unexpectedly nerve-racking.

Nick bent his head close enough that she caught an intriguing whiff of his cologne. “Is that a tattoo on your shoulder?”

Elena stiffened at the blunt question and the hint of disapproval that went with it. “It’s a transfer. I’m thinking about a tattoo.”

There was a small tense silence. “You don’t need it.”

The flat statement made her bristle. “I think I need it and Giorgio thought it looked very good.”

“Damn,” he said softly. “Who is Giorgio?”

A small thrill went through her at the sudden, blinding thought that Nick was jealous, although she refused to allow herself to buy into that fantasy.

From what she knew personally and had read in magazines and tabloids, Nick Messena didn’t have a jealous bone in his body. Most of his liaisons were so brief there was no time for an emotion as deep and powerful as jealousy to form. “Giorgio is...a friend.”

She caught the barest hint of annoyance in his expression, and a small but satisfying surge of feminine power coursed through her at the decision not to disclose her true relationship with Giorgio. It was absolutely none of Nick’s business that Giorgio was her personal beauty consultant.

In that moment she remembered Robert Corrado, another very new friend who had the potential to be much more. After just a couple of dates, it was too early to tell if Robert was poised to be the love of her life, but right now he was a touchstone she desperately needed.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to recall exactly what Robert looked like as they followed Gabriel, Gemma and Sanchia down the aisle.

She felt Nick’s gaze once again on her profile. “You’ve lost weight.”

Her jaw clenched at the excruciating conversation opener. It was not the response she had envisaged, but all the same, a small renegade part of her was happy that he had noticed.

Her new hourglass shape constantly surprised her. The diet, combined with a rigorous exercise regime had produced a totally unexpected body. She still had curves, albeit more streamlined than they used to be, and they were now combined with a tiny waist.

She was still amazed that the loss of such a small amount of weight had made such a difference. If she had realized how little had stood between her and a totally new body, she would have opted for diet and exercise years ago. “Can’t you come up with a better conversational opener than that?”

“Maybe I’m out of touch. What am I supposed to say?”

“According to a gossip columnist you’re not in the least out of touch. If you want to make conversation, you could try concentrating on positives.”

“I thought that was a positive.” Nick frowned. “Which columnist?”

Elena drew a swift breath. After her unscheduled meeting with Nick in Auckland she had, by pure chance, read that he had dated a gorgeous model that same night. She said the name.

His expression cleared. “The story about Melanie.”

“Melanie. Rhymes with Tiffany.”

Nick’s gaze sliced back to hers. “She’s a friend of my sister, and it was a family dinner. There was no date. Have you managed to sell the villa yet?”

“Not yet, but I’ve received an offer, which I’m considering.”

The muscles beneath her fingers tensed. She caught his flash of annoyance. “Whatever you’ve been offered, I’ll top it by ten percent.”

Elena stared ahead, keeping her gaze glued to the tulle of Gemma’s veil. “I don’t understand why you want the villa.”

“It’s beachfront. It’s an investment I won’t lose on, plus it seems to be the only way I can get you to agree to help me search for the ring.”

“I’ve looked. It’s not there.”

“Did you check the attic?”

“I’m working my way through it. I haven’t found anything yet, and I’ve searched through almost everything.”

Her aunt had been a collector of all sorts of memorabilia. Elena had sorted through all the recent boxes, everything else she had opened lately was going back progressively in time.

There was a small, grim silence. “If you won’t consider my purchase offer, will you let me have a look through before you sell?”

Her jaw set. “I can’t see Aunt Katherine putting a valuable piece of jewelry in an attic.”

“My father noted in a diary that he had given the ring to Katherine. You haven’t found it anywhere else, which means it’s entirely probable that it’s in the house, somewhere.”

Elena loosened her grip on the small bouquet she was holding. Nick’s frustration that he wasn’t getting what he wanted was palpable. Against all the odds, she had to fight a knee-jerk impulse to cave and offer to help him.

Determinedly, she crushed the old overgenerous Elena: the doormat.

According to Giorgio her fatal weakness was that she liked to please men. The reason she had rushed around and done so much for her Atraeus bosses was that it satisfied her need to be needed. She was substituting pleasing powerful men for a genuine love relationship in which she was entitled to receive care and nurturing.

The discovery had been life altering. On the strength of it, she intended to quit her job as a PA, because she figured that the temptation to revert to her old habit of rushing to please would be so ingrained it would be hard to resist. Instead, she planned to branch out in a new, more creative direction. Now that she’d come this far, she couldn’t go back to being the old, downtrodden Elena.

Aware that Nick was waiting for an answer she crushed the impulse to say an outright yes. “I don’t think you’ll find anything, but since you’re so insistent, I’m willing for you to come and have a look through the house for yourself.”

“When? I’m flying out early tomorrow morning and I won’t be back for a month.”

In which time, if she accepted the offer she was considering, the villa could be sold. She frowned at the way Nick had neatly cornered her. “I suppose I could spare a couple of hours tonight. If I help you sort through the final trunks, one hour should do it.”

“Done.” Nick lifted a hand in brief acknowledgment of an elderly man Elena recognized as Mario Atraeus. Seated next to him was a gorgeous brunette, Eva Atraeus, Mario’s adopted daughter.

Elena’s hand tightened on Nick’s arm in a weird, instant reflex. Nick’s gaze clashed with hers. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She had just remembered a photograph she stumbled across a couple of months ago in a glossy women’s magazine of Nick partnering Eva at a charity function. They had looked perfect together. Nick with his strong masculine good looks, Eva, with her olive skin and tawny hair, looking like an exotic flower by his side.

The music swelled to a crescendo as Gabriel and Gemma, with Sanchia in tow, stopped to greet an elderly matriarch of the Messena clan instead of leaving the church.

Pressed forward by people behind, Elena found herself impelled onto the front steps of the church, into a shower of confetti and rice.

A dark-haired young man wearing a checked shirt loomed out of the waiting crowd. He lifted a large camera and began snapping them as if they were the married couple. Embarrassment clutched at Elena. It wasn’t the official photographer, which meant he was probably a journalist. “He’s making a mistake.”

Another wave of confetti had Nick tucking her in closer against his side. “A reporter making a mistake? It won’t be the first time.”

“Aren’t you worried?”

“Not particularly.”

A cluster of guests exiting the church jostled Elena, so that she found herself plastered against Nick’s chest.

“I said I wasn’t going to do this,” he muttered.

A split second later his head dipped and his mouth came down on hers.

Four

Instead of pulling away as she should have, Elena froze, an odd feminine delight flowing through her at the softness of his mouth, the faint abrasion of his jaw. Nick’s hands settled at her waist, steadying her against him as he angled his jaw and deepened the kiss.

She registered that Nick was aroused. For a dizzying moment time seemed to slow, stop, then an eruption of applause, a raft of excited comments and the motorized click of the reporter’s camera brought her back to her senses.

Nick lifted his head. “We need to move.”

His arm closed around her waist, urging her off the steps. At that moment Gemma and Gabriel appeared in the doors of the church, and the attention of the reporter and the guests shifted.

Someone clapped Nick on the shoulder. “For a minute there I thought I was attending the wrong wedding, but as soon as I recognized you I knew you couldn’t be the groom.”

Relieved by the distraction, Elena freed herself from Nick’s hold and the haze of unscripted passion.

Nick half turned to shake hands with a large, tanned man wearing a sleek suit teamed with an Akubra hat, the Australian equivalent of a cowboy. “You know me, Nate. Married to the job.”

Elena noticed that the young guy in the checked shirt who had been snapping photos had sidled close and seemed to be listening. Before she could decide whether he was lingering with deliberate intent or if it was sheer coincidence, Nick introduced her to Nate Cavendish.

As soon as Elena heard the name she recognized Cavendish as an Australian cattleman with a legendary reputation as one of the richest and most elusive bachelors in Australia.

Feeling flustered and unsettled, her mind still locked on Nick’s statement that he was married to the job, she shook Nate’s hand.

Nate gave her a curious look as if he found her familiar but couldn’t quite place her. Not surprising, since she had bumped into him at Atraeus parties a couple of times in the past when she had been the “old” Elena. “You must be Nick’s new girl.”

“No,” she said blandly. “I’m not that interested. Too busy shopping around.”

Nick’s gaze touched on hers, promising retribution. “It’s what you might call an interesting arrangement.”

Nate shook his head. “Sounds like she’s got you on your knees.”

Nick shrugged, his expression cooling as he noticed the journalist. “Another one bites the dust.”

“That’s for sure.” Nate tipped his hat at Elena and walked toward the guests clustered around Gabriel and Gemma.

Nick’s gaze was glacially cold as he watched the reporter jog toward a car and drive away at speed.

Elena’s stomach sank. After working years for the Atraeus family, she had an instinct about the press. The only reason the reporter was leaving was because he had a story.

Nick’s palm landed in the small of her back. He moved her out of the way of the crowd as Gemma and Gabriel strolled toward their waiting limousine. But the effect that one small touch had on Elena was far from casual, zapping her straight back to the unsettling heat of the kiss.

Nick’s brows jerked together as she instantly moved away from his touch. A split second later a vibrating sound distracted him.

Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he stepped a couple of paces away to answer the call.

While he conducted a discussion about closing some deal on a resort purchase, Elena struggled to compose herself as she watched the bridal car leave.

A second limousine slid into place. The one that would transport her, Nick and Kyle to the Dolphin Bay Resort for the wedding photographs.

Her stomach churned at the thought. There was no quick exit today. She would have to share the intimate space of the limousine with Nick then, sit with him at the reception.

Too late to wish she hadn’t allowed that kiss or the conversation that had followed. Before today she would have said she didn’t have a flirtatious bone in her body. But sometime between the altar and the church gate she had learned to flirt.

Because she was still fatally attracted to Nick.

Elena drew a breath and let it out slowly.

She should never have allowed Nick to kiss her.

Her only excuse was that she had been so distracted by Gemma finally getting her happy-ever-after ending that she had dropped her guard.

But Nick had just reminded her of exactly why she couldn’t afford him in her life.

Nick Messena, like Nate Cavendish, was not husband material for one simple reason: no woman could ever compete with the excitement and challenge of his business.

Nick terminated his conversation and turned back to her, his gaze settling on her, narrowed and intent. “Looks like our ride is here.”

Elena’s heart thumped once, hard, as Nick’s words spun her back to their conversation on the sidewalk in Auckland. The breath locked in her throat as she finally allowed the knowledge that Nick was genuinely attracted to her to sink in. More, that he had been attracted to her six years ago, before she had changed her appearance.

The knowledge that he had wanted her even when she had been a little overweight and frumpy was difficult to process. She was absolutely not like the normal run of his girlfriends. It meant that he liked her for herself.

The sudden blinding thought that, if she wanted, she could end the empty years of fruitless and boring dating and make love with Nick sent heat flooding through her.

Nick was making no bones about the fact that he wanted her—

“Are you good to go?”

Elena drew a deep breath and tried to slide back into her professional PA mode. But with Nick looming over her, a smudge of lipstick at the corner of his mouth, it was difficult to focus. “I am, but you’re not.”

Extracting a handkerchief from a small, secret pocket at the waist of her dress, she handed it to him. “You have lipstick on your mouth.”

Taking the handkerchief, he wiped his mouth. “An occupational hazard at weddings.”

When he attempted to give the handkerchief back, she forced a smile. “Keep it. I don’t want it back.”

The last thing she needed was a keepsake to remind her that she had been on the verge of making a second mistake.

Slipping the handkerchief into his trousers’ pocket, he jerked his head in the direction of the limousine. “If you’re ready, looks like the official photo shoot is about to begin.” He sent her a quick, rueful grin. “Don’t know about you, but it’s not exactly my favorite pastime.”

Elena dragged her gaze from Nick’s and the killer charm that she absolutely did not want to be ensnared by. “I have no problem with having my photo taken.”

Not since she had taken one of the intensive courses offered at the health spa. She had been styled and made up by professionals and taught how to angle her face and smile. After two intimidating hours beneath glaring lights, a camera pointed at her face, she had finally conquered her fear of the lens.

* * *

A good thirty minutes later, after posing for endless photographs while the guests sipped champagne and circulated in the grounds of the Dolphin Bay Resort, Elena found herself seated next to Nick at the reception.

Held in a large room, which had been festooned with white roses, glossy dark green foliage and trailing, fragrant jasmine, the wedding was the culmination of a romantic dream.

A further hour of speeches, champagne and exquisite food later, the orchestra struck a chord. Growing more tense by the second, Elena watched as Gabriel and Gemma took the floor. According to tradition she and Nick were up next.

Nick held out one large, tanned and scarred hand. “I think that’s our cue.”

Elena took his hand, tensing at the tingling heat of his touch, the faint abrasion of calluses gained on construction sites and while indulging his other passion: sailing.

One hand settled at her waist, drawing her in close at the first sweeping step of a waltz. Elena’s breath hitched in her throat as her breasts brushed his chest. Stiffening slightly, she pulled back, although it was hard to enjoy dancing, which she loved, when maintaining a rigid distance.

Nick sent her a neutral glance. “You should relax.”

Another couple who had just joined the general surge onto the floor danced too close and jostled her.

Nick frowned. “And that’s why.” With easy strength he pulled her closer.

Feeling a little breathless, Elena stared at the tough line of Nick’s jaw and decided to stay there.

“That’s better.”

As Nick twirled her past Gabriel and Gemma, Elena tried to relax. Another hour and she could leave. Tension hit her again at that thought because she would be leaving with Nick, a scenario that ran a little too close to what had taken place six years ago. The music switched to a slower, steamier waltz.

Instead of releasing her, Nick continued to dance, keeping her close. “How long have you known Gemma?”

Heart pounding with the curious, humming excitement of being so close to Nick, Elena forced herself to concentrate on answering his question. “Since I started coming to Dolphin Bay for my vacations when I was seventeen.”

“I remember seeing you on the beach.”

Elena could feel her cheeks warming at the memory of just how much time she used to spend watching Nick on his surfboard or messing around on boats. “I used to read on the beach a lot.”

“But not anymore?”

She steeled herself against the curiosity of his gaze, his sudden unnerving focus. “These days, I have other things to occupy my time.”

He lifted a brow. “Let me guess—a gym membership.”

“Fitness is important.”

“So, what’s behind the sudden transformation?”

Elena stiffened against the urge to blurt out that he had been the trigger. “I simply wanted to make the best of myself.”

They danced beneath a huge, central chandelier, the light flowing across the strong planes and angles of Nick’s face, highlighting the various nicks and scars.

He tucked her in a little closer for a turn. “I liked the color your eyes used to be. They were a pretty sherry brown, you shouldn’t have changed that.”

Elena blinked at the complete unexpectedness of his comment. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

No one else had, including herself. A little breathlessly she made a mental note to go back to clear contacts.

“And what about these?” he growled. His thumb brushed over one lobe then swept upward, tracing the curve of her ear, initiating a white-hot shimmer of heat.

He hooked coiling strands of hair behind one ear to further investigate, his breath washing over the curve of her neck, disarming her even further. “How many piercings?”

Despite her intense concentration on staying in step, Elena wobbled. When she corrected, she was close enough to Nick that she was now pressed lightly against his chest and his thighs brushed hers with every step. “One didn’t seem to be enough, so I got three. On my lobes, that is.”

His gaze sharpened. “There are piercings...elsewhere?”

Her heart thumped at the sudden intensity of his expression, the melting heat in his eyes. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Just one. A navel piercing.”

He was silent for a long, drawn-out moment, in which time the air seemed to thicken as the music took on a slower, slumberous rhythm. A tango.

Nick’s hand tightened on her waist, drawing her infinitesimally closer. “Anything else I should know?”

She drew a quick, shallow breath as the heat from his big body closed around her. The passionate music, which she loved, throbbed, heightening her senses. Her nostrils seemed filled with his scent. The heat from his hand at her waist, his palm locked against hers, burned as if they were locked into some kind of electrical current.

She squashed the insane urge to sway a little closer. Wrong man, wrong place and a totally wrong time to road test this new direction in her life.

The whole point was to change her life, not repeat her old mistake.

Although, the heady thought that she could repeat it, if she wanted, made her mouth go dry. She hadn’t missed the heat in Nick’s gaze, or when he’d pulled her close, that he was semiaroused. “Only if you were my lover, which you’re not.”

“You’ve got a guy.”

She frowned at the flat statement, the slight tightening of his hold. As if in some small way Nick considered that she belonged to him, which was ridiculous. “I date.” Her chin came up. “I’m seeing someone at the moment.”

His gaze narrowed with a mixture of disbelief and displeasure. “Who?”

A small startled thrill shot through her at the sudden notion that Nick didn’t like it one little bit that there was a man in her life, even if the dating was still on a superficial level.

A little drunk on the rush of power that, in a room teeming with beautiful women, she was the center of his attention, she touched her tongue to her top lip. It was a gesture she became aware was an unconscious tease as his focus switched to her mouth.

Abruptly embarrassed, she closed her mouth and stared over Nick’s shoulder at another pair of dancers whirling past. “You won’t know him.”

“Let me guess,” he muttered. “Giorgio.”

Elena blushed at the mistaken conclusion. A conclusion Nick had arrived at because she had deliberately failed to clarify who, exactly, Giorgio was. “Uh—actually, his name is Robert. Robert Corrado.”

There was a stark silence. “You have two guys?”

She wasn’t sure if the two tentative pecks on the mouth she had allowed, and which had been devoid of anything like the electrifying pleasure she had experienced when Nick kissed her, qualified Robert to be her guy. “Just the one.”

Nick’s gaze bored into hers, narrowed and glittering. “So Giorgio’s past history?”

Elena tried to dampen down the addictive little charge of excitement that went through her at Nick’s obvious displeasure. “Giorgio’s my beauty consultant.”

Nick muttered something short and succinct under his breath. Another slow, gliding turn and they were outside on a shadowy patio with the light of the setting sun glowing through palm fronds and gleaming off a limpid pool.

Nick relinquished his hold, his jaw set, his gaze brooding and distinctly irritable. “Is Corrado the one you got the piercings for?”

The question, as if he had every right to expect an answer, made her world tilt again.

She had speculated before, but now she knew.

Nick was jealous.

Five

Elena dragged her gaze from Nick’s and looked out past the pool and the palms to the ocean. Anything to stop the crazy pull of attraction and the dangerous knowledge that Nick really did want her.

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