Chasing Summer: Date with Destiny / Marooned with the Maverick / A Summer Wedding at Willowmere

Yes, she decided with a flood of relief. That sounded spot on. Molly’s predilection for younger men had been a trial all Salome’s life. Not that she seriously believed Mike would be interested in her mother. Men like him went for the younger, more glamorous type.

Which reminded her... It would be wise to be on her guard with Mike tonight. All of a sudden he was exuding the sort of charm Italian men were renowned for, and which she’d seen him use on women other than herself. Now that their hostility towards each other had been put on hold, it was on the cards that he might fancy a spot of seduction for supper.

A bitter smile passed over her lips. Silly man. There were better bets than her in that regard. Much better. Still...it didn’t do any harm to watch herself. Mike was an exceptionally attractive and sexy man, and it was hard not to respond, even if that response was fleeting and superficial.

It suddenly occurred to her that she had left him out there with Molly alone, and she scuttled out of her bedroom, walking quickly back down the hall, her handbag under her arm.

‘Found!’ she announced with a hurried smile. ‘Just as well, or the entire bill would have been on you tonight, Mike.’

Those black eyes locked on to hers, amusement in their depths. ‘My dear Salome,’ he drawled lazily. ‘When I take a woman out to dinner I always pay.’

Salome had to drag her eyes away from the magnetism of his, her heart thudding against her ribs. ‘I’ll come back and get more of my things tomorrow, Molly,’ she said far too breathlessly. Really, this sudden susceptibility of hers to Mike’s male charisma was beginning to annoy her. ‘Perhaps we should be going?’ she suggested, lifting cool eyes. Thank the lord, she thought with sardonic relief, that I’ve learnt not to show my emotions in my face.

Nevertheless, Mike slanted her a thoughtful look before smiling at her mother. ‘Nice meeting you, Molly. You and Wayne will have to come out with Salome and myself one night. What do you say, Salome? Will you be in on that?’

Salome smothered a sigh, wondering just how much Molly had told Mike while she’d been in the bedroom. No doubt he already knew about her illegitimacy and her mother’s new live-in boyfriend—Molly was not high on tact. Although, to give him credit, Mike wasn’t looking down his nose at Molly, as Charles had done. Even Ralph, she thought wryly, had wanted her mother kept safely in the background.

But Mike’s easygoing acceptance of Molly and Wayne did not excuse his presumptuous invitation a moment ago. Truly, men could be the limit! Would it damage his ego to admit this was a one-off platonic date? And did he have to put on that lady-killer act, just for the benefit of her mother?

Piqued and irritated, she literally had to plaster her smile in place. Already, it was feeling like cement, and she suspected that, any moment, cracks would begin to show. She had to get out of here, and right now!

‘That would be nice,’ she agreed with forced sweetness, then turned to her mother. ‘See you tomorrow, Molly,’ she said as she bent to plant a kiss on her cheek.

‘You too, love. And you know what they say...’ Molly threw after them as they made their way out on to the porch and down the front steps. ‘If you can’t be good, be careful!’

Salome groaned under her breath. Molly had always had this embarrassing fondness for that type of sexually flavoured comment.

‘Should we stop at a chemist’s on the way?’ Mike chuckled. ‘Or shall we be daring and leave matters up to fate?’

An angry exasperation welled up inside Salome, but she bit her tongue till they were beside the white Ferrari in the shadows of the tree-lined driveway, then she turned to set steely eyes upon her escort.

‘Let’s get one thing straight, Mike,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m going to dinner with you tonight because you were quite kind to me today, and because I thought this was your way of apologising for your narrow-minded dislike of me all these years. But I don’t want you to get the idea this is going to become a habit, just because I’m moving into the penthouse next to yours. Also, let me assure you that when I go out with a man on a platonic date I don’t need to buy contraceptives!’ She glared at him in what she imagined was dignified reproach.

His head tipped slightly to one side, his expression one of mild pity. ‘Poor Salome...I can see that your recent divorce has destroyed your sense of humour.’

‘Really?’ Her tone was very prickly.

‘Yes, really.’ He put down her case next to the Ferrari, and slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers. ‘I wasn’t suggesting a thing. I was having a joke, merely following on from your mother’s quip, that was all.’

There was a weary note to his voice that made her feel guilty. Looking at the situation more objectively she realised she had over-reacted abominably. ‘I see...I—I’m sorry, then,’ she said, then added defensively, ‘But I was worried that you might be having after-dinner expectations.’

‘“Expectations”? What kind of “expectations”?’

‘Sexual expectations!’ Good grief! Why did she have to blush when she said that? Thank the lord the light was dim here.

‘Ahh...’

A dark, predatory light gleamed momentarily in his eyes, bringing immediate panic. ‘I won’t sleep with you, Mike Angellini!’ Salome burst out, and was relieved that her words sounded firm. Not as rattled and shaky as she was feeling.

His laugh was low and drily amused. ‘I don’t recall asking you to. Anyway, I told you once before, Salome, sleeping with you is not high on my list of priorities. Look, we’ll have to get a move on,’ he said, deftly changing the subject. ‘Our booking was for eight-fifteen, and the restaurant I’m taking you to is back at McMahon’s Point. Have you got a key for this boot, and I’ll put your case in?’

Salome stared speechlessly up at him for a moment, her mind in total confusion. She should have been pleased to be on the end of such a blunt rejection, but she wasn’t. She felt annoyed.

‘Your key?’ Mike repeated, his voice betraying a growing impatience. ‘You have to follow me in your car, remember?’

Salome snapped out of her startled bemusement with a degree of fluster. She had difficulty finding her key, and when she handed it over she was astonished to see her hands were trembling. Mike gave both her hands, then her face, a sharp look, but took the key and deposited her case in the boot.

‘Keep close,’ he advised as he handed back the keys. ‘I wouldn’t want to lose you in the traffic.’

‘Yes...yes, I will,’ she assured him, her voice not at all steady.

Again his eyes raked hers. ‘Truce still intact?’ he asked with a wary little smile.

‘I suppose so,’ she choked out.

‘Mm.’ His frown showed he didn’t quite believe her, but then he shrugged and strode off towards where his bronze Jaguar was parked at the kerb. Almost against her will, Salome’s eyes followed him, lingering on the breadth of his shoulders, the feral grace of his stride, the way his glossy black waves gleamed lustrously under a streetlight. Her stomach fluttered as a thought struck. Was it possible that Ralph’s accusation had finally come true—that she did indeed now want this man to want her? Was that why she’d been jealous when he’d paid attention to her mother, then angry when he’d told her he wasn’t interested in her in that way?

No, she decided, frowning and shaking her head. No...that wasn’t possible. That didn’t make sense. I won’t accept that, she argued with herself. Basically, we dislike each other. It’s just female vanity, that’s all. No woman likes a man to say outright that he doesn’t want her. Yes, that sounded right. I’ll put it down to a case of female pique.

A shiver ran through Salome as a puff of wind blew down the driveway, rustling the leaves at her feet.

‘You like standing out there in the cold, do you?’ Mike called to her over the bonnet of his car.

Salome looked up and pulled a face at him. ‘Hardly.’

‘Look...’ His voice was gaining a frustrated edge. ‘I realise you don’t really want to go out with me, but you can’t very well trundle back inside now, can you? And you have to eat somewhere, so come on, get that sexy bod of yours into your white charger and move it! And remember, if you’re too slow I’ll lose you.’

Throwing her a challenging look, he ducked into the car.

Her green eyes blazed angrily Mike’s way, but he was already behind the wheel, the Jaguar growling into life. Taking up the challenge, Salome followed suit, jumping into the Ferrari and firing the engine with a furious flick of her wrist. When the Jaguar shot away from the kerb with a squeal of tyres, she was hot on its tail.

CHAPTER FOUR

THERE were several sticky moments on the way to the restaurant when a lesser driver could easily have lost the Jaguar in front. But Salome didn’t. She stuck to its gleaming bumper-bar like glue, letting neither amber traffic lights nor changes of lane faze her. In an odd sort of way, it was the most exhilarating experience she had had in months, even if more inspired by temper than a natural love of speed and danger.

She was normally a very safe and careful driver. Tonight, though, she seemed driven by inner demons, and, by the time she screeched the Ferrari to a halt beside Mike’s Jaguar in the restaurant’s car park, her own engine was as hot and bothered as the car’s.

What on earth was possessing her tonight? she thought dazedly as she slumped over the wheel, her heart pounding madly.

Any agonising over this score had to be postponed, however, for at that moment her door was wrenched open, making her sit bolt upright. Mike leaned across her and angrily switched off the still throbbing motor, his black eyes blazing. ‘Good God, woman, do you always drive like that?’ he snarled.

Salome bristled to her own defence. ‘You said not to lose you,’ she pointed out, ‘and you didn’t exactly dawdle yourself.’

The exasperated man gripping the car door with white-knuckled intensity wasn’t to be denied. ‘Maybe so, but I didn’t mean for you to drive the whole damned way barely five centimetres from my back bumper-bar. Hell, you scared the living daylights out of me every time I changed lanes or went around a corner! I was too bloody petrified to slow down in case I finished up with you in my passenger seat!’

‘You needn’t have worried.’ Her tone was now unruffled and very, very droll. ‘Ralph sent me to an advanced driving school before he gave me this car, his motto being that all expensive and beautiful things should only be put into the hands of people who know what to do with them.’

Salome retrieved the keys from the ignition and slipped them into her handbag, then glanced up to find Mike still glaring down at her, his eyes more disapproving than ever. What had she said now to annoy him?

‘Excuse me,’ she sighed, swinging her knees around in order to climb out of the low-slung car. He took a step back, at the same time holding out his hand to help her. There seemed no option but to accept it.

His grip was firm, hauling her upwards in a single smooth motion which brought her within inches of his lean length, her hand squashed in his between them. She blinked up at those intense black eyes, and was suddenly very aware of the hard male body close to her own softer female curves. The subsequent fluttering in her pulse-rate startled her. As did the quiet heat that crept over her skin.

Heavens! She knew Mike was a very attractive man, but it was infinitely disturbing to find he could command such a response from her without even trying. What would happen if he did try?

Prior to this moment, Salome would have sworn that no man would have had a chance in Hades of seducing her unless she was in love with him. Now, amazingly, Mike was stirring her on a purely physical level as no man had ever done before. Really, it was incredible! But it seemed there was a first time for everything, she thought bitterly.

Well, she would just have to ignore it all! came her immediate resolve. Or who knew what might happen? As Mike had said to her earlier that afternoon, he might not have fancied her seriously in the past, but he wouldn’t knock her back if she offered herself to him on a silver platter.

A shudder raced through Salome at the thought of ending the night in his bed. Casual sex was not for her. She had seen the results of a woman letting men use her in that way. All she had to do was to keep thinking of Molly, and this unexpected weakness was sure to cure itself.

Gathering her inner resources, she sucked in a resolute breath and plastered a determinedly innocuous smile on her face. ‘Shall we go inside?’ she suggested, and slipped her arm through Mike’s elbow.

A shaft of relief darted through her when this bold foray produced no feelings whatsoever. No tingling nerve-endings, no increased heartbeat, no flush of heat to the skin. Marvellous! The cure was working.

‘Am I missing something?’

She gave Mike’s disgruntled face the most innocent look. ‘Pardon?’

‘You seem very pleased with something all of a sudden. Am I to be allowed in on it?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she blinked vapidly. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

He withdrew his arm from hers and gave her a sharp look. ‘Don’t take me for a fool, Salome,’ he warned darkly. ‘I know when a woman has devious thoughts ticking over in her brain. And I know when she’s trying to hide something.’

She gave a light laugh, but underneath she was genuinely worried. Mike was an astute and intelligent man. And a dedicated womaniser, if the gossip she had heard about him was correct. Had she unwittingly given something away a moment ago? She hoped not, but, if she had, the best thing was to try to confuse the enemy immediately.

‘Surely you aren’t imagining I’m planning to replace Ralph with you, are you, Mike?’ she teased, green eyes mocking.

His black gaze narrowed. ‘Hardly.’

‘Then stop glowering at me. You’re quite safe. All I was thinking earlier was how strange it was that you should be the first man I’d go out with after my divorce.’

Too late, she realised that even this was an admission.

His left eyebrow lifted. ‘I find it hard to believe I’m your first male escort since Ralph.’

She silently thanked his distrust of her. ‘Well...’ She let her voice trail away tellingly, but her heart was in her mouth. ‘One doesn’t always go out...’ She considered it the lesser of two evils if he thought she’d had a lover or two. Better than his jumping to the conclusion that he alone had captured her sexual interest in fourteen months.

Mike’s mouth tightened at this revelation, his gaze hardening to the cynical expression she had known and hated from her nights at Angellini’s. It was depressing that any ground she had made in changing his opinion of her had probably been lost, but it couldn’t be helped. Perhaps it was just as well, anyway, since he was to be a neighbour, that he be kept at a distance. Doubtless, after tonight, he wouldn’t be rushing to ask her out again.

‘I suppose I should have known better,’ he drawled, ‘than to think a woman like you would do without—er—shall we say male “companionship”, for want of a better word?’

Salome buried any hurt beneath a wall of bitter sarcasm. ‘My, my, you do have a high opinion of me, don’t you? One wonders what you’re doing here with me at all. Or were you thinking of sacrificing yourself later tonight to appease my—er—”loneliness”, for want of a better word?’

A muscle in his jaw clenched, then released to make way for a black smile. ‘My neighbourly offers of friendship don’t usually extend quite that far.’

‘Oh, dear, I’m crushed.’

‘Of course, I wouldn’t like to see a lady suffer. If the worst came to the worst, I suppose I could always lie back and think of Australia.’

‘Don’t you mean England?’ she countered tartly.

‘Poetic licence. Look, do you think we could cut this charming repartee short till I can get some food into my mouth? I haven’t eaten for hours and I’m in dire need.’

‘By all means,’ she tossed back. ‘I happen to be hungry too, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.’

He chuckled. ‘Come on, then. I know when I’ve gone as far as I can go. Dinner it is!’ And he took her arm.

Salome was quite happy to be stampeded across the car park in blissful silence. She had felt her blood-pressure rising dramatically beneath her increasingly tart replies. Though not from temper. The cause was far more perturbing.

Mike’s retort about lying back had projected a vivid and erotic mental image into her imagination, sending the blood roaring through her veins. Even now her mind’s eye held a tantalising vision of him, naked and supine on her bed. He wasn’t alone either. She was there, making the most amazingly abandoned love to him.

Shock rippled deep inside Salome. It was incredible! Impossible! This couldn’t be her thinking things like that! It wasn’t as though making love had ever brought her any physical pleasure. Why should she be craving it with this man all of a sudden?

Yet, as her eyes slid sidewards to flick surreptitiously over him, she was consumed by urges so wanton and so primitive that she had to bite her lips to stop herself from groaning out loud. Currents seemed to be racing down her limbs into her fingertips and toes. A clamminess was spreading over her skin. Her mouth felt dry, her lips needing moisture.

As for her breasts...Salome was bitterly regretting her decision not to wear a bra. As it was, she was fiercely conscious of the movement of her breasts as she walked, the way her nipples were rubbing to painful hardness against her clothing.

‘I know this place doesn’t look much,’ Mike remarked as they approached the windowless façde of the restaurant, ‘but it improves once inside.’

Salome dragged her mind out of its dungeon of horrors to really look at the building for the first time. It was a solid square two-storeyed structure, painted an unprepossessing dark brown, with ‘MARTINE’S’ in gilt letters over a heavy-looking wooden door.

Mike moved ahead slightly up the front steps, the door yielding reluctantly to his push. He held it open and waved her inside. Salome stepped into the dimly lit, air-conditioned interior, her whole insides twisted as tight as a coiled spring. The door closed behind her, giving her an entombed feeling. She glanced around nervously as Mike drew to her side.

He was right about the restaurant. The interior was quiet and dark and intimate, with a small black and white tiled lobby, a classy-looking bar on their left, a flight of stairs straight ahead, and offices, Salome guessed, behind the closed door to her right. An attractive dark-haired woman in her late thirties and a smart black dress floated down the stairs, smiling at Mike as she approached. ‘Mr Angellini,’ she murmured with a gracious nod. ‘Your usual table has been reserved for you.’

Salome’s agitation was momentarily distracted when she followed the woman to the top of the stairs and realised why Mike had chosen this particular place to eat. Clearly, it wasn’t far from their block of units, since the wide windows on the upper floor displayed the same splendid view Salome had seen from her penthouse balcony that afternoon. Except that now it was night-time, with Darling Harbour, the city and the bridge ablaze with lights, their glittering reflections dancing in the black waters that lapped the foreshores.

Salome hesitated only briefly to admire the view before continuing her trek between the tables at the woman’s heels. Her eyes automatically noted and assessed the quality cream tablecloths and napkins, the comfortable cane-backed chairs, the silver candlesticks and the assorted potted palms placed discreetly for extra privacy. A place of class, without being ostentatious.

They were shown to the most private table of all, tucked away in a dimly lit corner, but still with an unimpeded view, a reserved-for-Angellini card propped up against the silver candlestick. Recalling the woman’s words that this was Mike’s usual table sent an ironic little smile to Salome’s lips. This was not his usual sort of date, though, was it?

Salome no longer had the slightest worry about Mike making a pass at her tonight. She knew he wouldn’t. Beneath his drily amused tolerance and neighbourly goodwill, he still despised her morals. It was all rather a sick joke, the way she kept wanting him, despite everything. He would probably laugh, if he knew.

Once they were seated, their hostess handed out the menus, lit the single candle, then asked if they would like a pre-dinner drink. Mike glanced questioningly over at Salome, but all she could think of was how brilliantly his eyes gleamed by candle-light and how sensuous his mouth looked in shadow. ‘Salome?’ he prompted.

Oh, God! she thought despairingly. ‘My usual,’ she managed huskily, guilt and shame a heavy burden in her heart. How could she be thinking and feeling these things for a man who thought so lowly of her? On top of that, she was supposed to be still in love with Ralph! It was all very confusing.

Mike ordered her a vodka and orange, and a double Scotch on the rocks for himself. The woman departed saying she would bring the wine list and take their orders when she returned with the drinks.

Once alone, an awkward silence fell over their table, with Salome deliberately averting her eyes from his too intuitive ones to stare blankly at the panoramic view.

‘How far are we away from home?’ she asked after a while. But she still didn’t look at him.

‘Only a couple of blocks.’

‘And you come here often?’

‘Often enough.’

Composed now, she swung her eyes back to face him, and was surprised to find she was able to look at him in a perfectly calm manner. See him for what he is, Salome, she told herself. A womaniser. A worse user, even, than Ralph. Maybe that will exorcise you of these unwanted and unwarranted desires.

‘You’ve had a lot of women, haven’t you?’ she said casually.

He seemed startled by her question, leaning back in his chair and studying her for a few seconds before answering. She found the delay almost as unnerving as his close scrutiny. ‘How many is a lot? Five? Ten? A hundred? And from what point are you counting? From my first fumbling encounter, or from the time I would classify myself as a passable lover?’

Salome began wishing she had not started on this subject. The thought of his making love to any woman was suddenly agitating her. Silly, really. What did it matter? It seemed, though, that this tack was certainly not curing her. Far from it.

She gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘Please yourself.’

‘Oh, I usually do,’ he drawled. ‘Which means I decline to answer your question on the grounds that it might incriminate me. Unless, of course, you want to play mutual confessions... How many men have you had, Salome? Or have you lost count?’

She stiffened, but then laughed. ‘Touché. But I claim the same privilege as you, Mike. You already think I’m Mata Hari. I wouldn’t want to shock you further.’ And shocked he would be, she thought ruefully, if she said she’d only had one man, and that man was not her husband! Not that he’d believe her.

The drinks arrived at this fortuitous point, and Salome resolved to keep their conversation off sex for the rest of the dinner. It wasn’t easy, but she managed, chattering away about the weather and sport during the entrée, politics during the main course, music and theatre over dessert, then the state of the economy all through coffee and liqueurs. Salome could not have told anyone afterwards what she actually ate. Seafood, she supposed, since it was primarily a seafood restaurant.

Occasionally, she caught her companion giving her a frowning glance as though he didn’t know quite what to make of his remarkably well-informed companion. Salome smiled to herself at the irony of his confusion. Her own was far more unnerving.

It was past eleven by the time Mike announced they should be going. She stood up much too abruptly, and swayed on her feet.