All He Wants For Christmas...: Flirting With Intent / Blame it on the Bikini / Restless

‘Right. And definitely the tickets. Buying tickets online would mean we wouldn’t necessarily have to go into any of these shops. Problem solved.’

‘Or we could put the tickets in the handbag,’ murmured Ruby. ‘Or in the pocket of a black velvet evening coat. Do you have her measurements?’ Damon shook his head. Ruby sighed her impatience. ‘C’mon, Damon. Work with me here. Surely a rake of your stature can hazard a decent guess as to dress size? We’re not going to swing tailor-made at this time of year anyway. It’ll have to be ready-to-wear.’

‘In that case, Poppy’s five seven and too slender for her own good. Size ten, Australian.’

‘Thank you. I knew you could do it. What about Lena?’

‘Lena is a little taller and has spent six of the last eight months in a wheelchair. She’s even skinnier than Poppy these days. I hope it doesn’t last.’

‘So … dress size eight? Or ten?’

‘Yes,’ he said and earned himself an eye roll. ‘Ten would be better. Give her something to aspire to.’

‘And what size am I?’

Nice of Ruby to give him permission to study her delectable form. ‘Arms above your head and turn around,’ he directed smoothly.

‘Funny man.’ Ruby’s honey-coloured eyes narrowed and her hands went to her hips. Damon’s gaze followed. Her waist was tiny but she did have hips. Not to mention a fine rear and full breasts. Her chestnut curls stayed clear of her face, courtesy of the ridiculous headband, and the black leather tote completed her general air of plenty.

Plenty of curves, plenty of attitude and plenty of challenge to be going on with. Damon smiled his appreciation.

‘Somewhere between a size ten and a twelve, Ruby, though I’m guessing most of your clothes are custom fit. You’ve got that look. How am I doing so far?’

‘You’re a true expert on the female form. Lucky me. Now tell me what kind of clothes your sisters prefer to wear.’

Damon looked warily upwards once again, towards the retail floors filled with shops. They seemed like very spacious shops. Probably not that many per floor. ‘Poppy likes layers. Lena hates dresses. Neither of them are into colour.’

‘That’s just sad,’ she murmured. ‘Do they like jewellery?’

‘They have jewellery.’

‘I’m working on the general assumption that they have everything,’ said Ruby dryly. ‘In here, Damon,’ she said, gesturing to the nearest shopfront. ‘No one does neutrals better than the French.’

Bracing himself, Damon followed her inside.

It wasn’t Ruby’s headband that got them exemplary service, decided Damon a few minutes later. It was her attitude. The way she knew not to browse the racks herself but describe what she wanted and then let the assistants fetch the stuff. The way she efficiently sorted the offerings into discards and items she wanted to consider. There was seating, and Damon availed himself of it. Refreshments, which he declined.

Three saleswomen and one curvaceous general. Two presents to purchase. Five minutes, tops.

He was so wrong.

What kind of maniac put a beige trench coat over what looked like a corseted black baby-doll nightie? Or covered a perfectly serviceable strapless black mini dress with a sheer purple overgown that rippled to the floor?

The purple gauzy thing and the mini beneath it were discarded on account of Lena not being one for colour or dresses. In the end, Ruby settled on a pewter-coloured miniskirt for Lena. It had ruffles and looked softly feminine and would not emphasise his sister’s frailty. Damon approved. The ivory-coloured waist-length jacket Ruby chose to go with it had some sort of sculpted band around the hem but it went with the skirt better than expected. The beige trench coat and the baby-doll nightwear combo that she’d set aside was apparently for Poppy.

‘Do I get a say?’ he murmured and four perfectly styled women turned to regard him with varying degrees of pity. ‘You said handbags,’ he said to Ruby mildly. ‘To put the tickets in?’

‘Dammit, you’re right,’ she said, and turned to the attendants. ‘We’ll need to look at handbags too. Satchels, I think.’

‘In the black?’ asked an attendant.

‘Of course.’

Half an hour later they left the shop, goodies in hand, and with Ruby sporting the kind of glow that only came from hitting a credit card hard. ‘Now you,’ she said. ‘Would you like a new suit?’

‘Why? What’s wrong with my suit?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Then I don’t want another one.’

‘How about a watch?’

‘I got this one from Poppy and Lena last Christmas. I’ve worn it once.’

‘Well, that’s hardly the watch’s fault,’ she said with a glance at his wrist. ‘It’s a very nice watch. What about gadgetry? New phone? Camera? Computer? What is it that you do?’

‘I troubleshoot computer systems.’ ‘For who?’ She looked intrigued. ‘For those who ask.’ ‘Where are you based?’

‘I don’t have a base. The job’s portable.’

‘But surely life isn’t? Or are you one of those people who just can’t seem to settle anywhere?’

‘Something wrong with variety?’

‘I guess not.’ She didn’t sound impressed. ‘All right. What about a new set of travel bags for Christmas? We’re in the neighbourhood.’

‘There’s some new computer tech I’m interested in. Why don’t you leave it with me?’

‘That’s not what I’m paid to do, and, frankly, I hate leaving jobs undone. It’s a little quirk of mine.’

‘Another one.’

‘Exactly.’ There was that disarming smile again. Feminine weaponry at its finest. ‘If I don’t have a gift for you by the end of the day I won’t sleep. If I don’t sleep I get cranky. It’s not a good look.’

‘How so? Do you abandon the fuchsia headband for a schoolmarm’s bun and a riding crop?’ It was possible. Judging by the shop they’d just raided, anything was possible. Ruby’s golden eyes narrowed. Damon offered up his own disarming smile. ‘I can see that working for you.’

‘I’m glad we went shopping together,’ she murmured. ‘You’ve saved me from fantasising about you later.’

‘Because I’m hard to buy for? Or because I’m homeless.’

‘Neither. There’s something else about you that makes you a dismal relationship choice, and once again I can credit my recently departed father for giving me a heads up.’

‘Sounds ominous.’

‘It is. It’s about deception and disguise and people who deliberately portray themselves as something they’re not. You make a charming wastrel, by the way. I’m very impressed. But that’s not what you are.’

‘So what am I?’ he asked quietly.

‘Far smarter than you’re letting on, for starters,’ she offered bluntly. ‘Beautifully evasive when it comes to talking about your work, your needs and your lifestyle choices. An old hand, I surmise, at keeping whatever passes for the real you completely hidden from view. You’re not feckless, Damon. You’re a liar.’

CHAPTER TWO

IT REALLY wasn’t supposed to work like this, thought Damon grimly. Finally he’d encountered a woman who saw more of him than most—and granted, she had the benefit of working for his father and therefore knowing more of his family background than most women did at first glance—but still …

Wasn’t she supposed to like what she saw of the real Damon West? Admire his complexity and want to know more, not label him a liar and a bad relationship bet along with it.

‘Everybody lies, Ruby,’ he protested carefully, and watched her lips twist into a bitter smile.

‘Not everybody, Damon. Not to the extent that you do. Few people misrepresent themselves the way you do. Only those with something to hide. Con men, thieves, spooks. Shadow people. The ones you can never know because they never let you, and the only thing you can count on is that you’ll wake up one day and they’ll be gone. Who are you really, Damon? What is it that you do? Are you a money tracker? Is that why your father respects you? Are you here looking for a lead on my father? Because I’ve already told you, I don’t know where he is.’

‘I’m not a money tracker.’

‘Then what are you? Special intelligence service like your brother and sister? What? I’m being as forthright as I know how to be. Just tell me why you’re here and what you need from me. If I have it, it’s yours. No seduction required. No more pretty lies. I am so sick of lies.’

Her eyes were like bruises and they got to him more than he cared to admit.

‘I’m not SIS, and I swear—on my father’s honour—that I’m not hunting your father, or the money he stole, or anything else related to him or to you. Look at me,’ he commanded softly and waited until she did. ‘I’m here for Christmas with my family, that’s all. No hidden agenda, Ruby. None.’

‘Oh, hell,’ she murmured, and looked around the shopping centre, blinking fast as if holding back tears. ‘I’m sorry. I thought …

It felt …’

‘Like you were being played. You were, but not with nefarious intent.’ She’d wanted the truth from him and he gave her what he could. ‘I thought you could handle yourself. I thought you could handle me. Maybe I’m not all I seem to be, I’ll give you that. Maybe I’m not the kind of man Ruby Maguire needs to have around her right now. I’ll give you that too. I didn’t know that earlier. Now I do. No more playing with Ruby, see?’ He took a careful step back to emphasise his words. ‘No harm done.’

‘I’m sorry, I … You must think I’m a paranoid nutter,’ she muttered, setting her shopping bags down so she could slide her headband off, shake her curls free and put it back on again. Busywork for her hands while she looked anywhere but at him.

‘It’s not wrong to be careful of other people, Ruby. I would be too, were I in your position.’ He let her collect her composure. He looked at the nearest retail store, seeking distraction and finding it. ‘I’m thinking I might need some casual wear,’ he offered. ‘As a Christmas gift from my father to me.

They sell that kind of menswear around here, right?’

‘Right,’ she said and took a deep breath.

‘Can we bypass the polo shirts though?’

‘Good call,’ she murmured. ‘I’m betting upscale grunge is far more you. I’m thinking jeans to start with and we’ll improvise from there. How are you off for underclothes?’ She rallied fast, did Ruby Maguire, and Damon’s admiration for her rose a notch.

‘Do they have a brand name plastered all over them?’

‘Only on the band.’

‘In that case, I don’t want any. I prefer my underwear anonymous.’

‘Of course you do,’ she murmured soothingly. ‘I should have guessed. Would you like any help with your clothing selection, or shall I just wait?’

‘I want your help. Whatever it was you did in the other store, do that,’ he added. ‘Only faster.’

Half an hour later Ruby had Damon outfitted in clothes that might even find their way into his travel bag, and relative amicability had been restored. Ruby had more shopping to do but none that required Damon’s assistance.

Damon had more shopping to do too, and he definitely didn’t need assistance. Ruby had agreed to drop him off at the Golden Computer Shopping Centre in Kowloon. Damon would find his own way back to the apartment. Too easy.

‘Mind the scams,’ she said as they loaded up her car with his father’s purchases.

‘I shall enjoy them immensely,’ he murmured and she shot him a perplexed glance. ‘I’m only browsing, Ruby. Seeing what’s new and improved or old and abused. I do it every time I come to Hong Kong.’

‘So … you really do work with computers?’

Damon nodded. Not a lie, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. Ruby headed for the driver’s seat. Damon to the passenger side.

‘Is there any particular type of food or beverage you’d like me to stock the apartment with?’ she asked as they filled the car with shopping bags and then themselves. ‘Your favourites? Your sisters’ favourites?’

‘Lena likes a good Sauvignon Blanc, Poppy loves lychees and I’m a sucker for crispy duck in pancake pockets with all the trimmings. No one’s all that keen on a-thou-sand-year-old eggs, shark-fin soup, turtle jelly, or chicken-feet anything.’

‘Not a problem. I’ll steer clear of the swallow’s nest tonics and imported Japanese blowfish too. And, Damon?’

The seriousness was back in her voice.

‘I’m really sorry about our earlier misunderstanding.’

‘Don’t be,’ he said gently. ‘I’ve forgotten it already.’

Ruby hit the grocery stores after that. White wine, fresh fruit—including lychees—and crispy duck with all the trimmings. Snack food for Russell’s fridge that she took back to the apartment immediately in the hope that Damon would still be out. He wasn’t.

‘You shop too fast,’ she said as she downed her numerous shopping bags, opened the coat cupboard and slipped out of her high heels and into her flats. He’d taken his jacket off and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

If a sexier version of manhood existed, Ruby hadn’t seen it.

‘Dare I suggest that you shop too much?’ he countered as he closed the door behind her and picked up the shopping bags.

Now she’d seen it.

‘I smell food,’ he said.

‘It’s crispy duck. I was going to put it in the fridge for later.’

‘Ruby, you spoil me.’ Damon’s grin became boyishly delighted.

‘It’s Christmas.’

‘It’s great.’

Ruby watched as Damon set the bags down next to the bench and found the one with his favourite food in it. Man and his stomach. Always the same, no matter what his pay grade. ‘It’s still hot,’ he said.

‘The restaurant’s only a block away. If you like the food I’ll give you their number.’ Ruby started on the unpacking. The sooner she did her job, the sooner she could leave. Leaving was preferable to being around Damon. Damon called forth feelings she didn’t want any part of. Starting with desire for a man who kept far too many secrets. ‘Pretend I’m not here,’ she told him.

‘But you are here.’

‘Then think of me as the hired help.’

‘Of course.’ He gestured towards the takeaway containers he’d lined up on the counter. ‘Want some?’

Ruby rolled her eyes and kept right on unpacking. Fruit for the fruit bowl by way of a water rinse. She found the colander and started washing grapes. A grape escaped her and rolled across the counter towards him. He stopped it, ate it, and Ruby’s gaze slid helplessly to his lips. Not good.

‘Does my father treat you like an employee?’ he murmured. ‘Why wouldn’t he?’ ‘Just curious.’

‘Whatever you’re thinking just say it,’ she said darkly.

‘I was thinking that I can see now why plenty of people wouldn’t want to employ you. If there were women around you’d outclass them. Husbands around and you’d captivate them. Furthermore, I’m willing to bet that my father treats you more like a daughter than an employee.’

‘I think it’s because he met me a couple of times as a child. I’m trying to break him of the habit.’

‘There it is,’ he said softly. ‘The reason you’ll never make a good underling. You’re too regal. Taking charge comes as automatically to you as breathing.’

‘So?’ For some reason his words wounded her.

‘It’s not a criticism, Ruby. I’m just saying that asking me to treat you like the hired help is all well and good but it’s never going to happen. You’re Ruby Maguire; part princess, part seasoned survivor when it comes to the whims of the wealthy, and you know it. What’s more, I know it. We’re just going to have to come up with some other way of dealing with each other.’

‘Are we having another serious conversation?’ she demanded suspiciously. ‘Because, I still remember how well the last one worked out for us.’

‘You think we should stick to banter? Flirting without intent?’

‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s the perfect solution. Easy as breathing, for both of us—no character assassination intended.’

‘None taken,’ he said dryly. ‘Flirting is comfortable.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Predictable.’ He seemed to be looking for a catch.

‘I’m sure we can make it so.’

‘Safe,’ he said, watching her closely.

‘Possibly a new experience for the mysterious Damon West, but yes,’ she said airily. ‘Flirting with me is comfortable, predictable, easy and safe.’

‘Right.’ Damon’s enthusiasm for flirting—with or without intent—appeared to be on the wane. ‘What if I fall asleep?’

‘It’s all right, Damon.’ Hard not to smile at Damon West’s thorough comprehension of self. ‘I’ll wake you before I leave.’

Ruby did leave Damon’s company eventually, and she took with her plenty of food for thought. She’d never thought of herself in the terms that Damon West had described her. Part princess, part seasoned survivor.

Yes, she knew her way around the upper echelons of society; with its games of one-upmanship and the ultimate scorecard that was money. Yes, she could relate to being a survivor. Always had been. Another lesson from her father. But she’d never thought of herself as authoritative, or a princess for that matter. She’d never considered herself a difficult woman to deal with. Recent bouts of rampant paranoia aside. She’d left Damon enjoying his meal and showing no signs of resentment towards her whatsoever, in the aftermath of her accusations and suspicions. Social disaster alleviated. Good for her. For her and Damon both, given that she’d be seeing a fair bit of him over the next few days.

The rest of Ruby’s afternoon consisted of a charity meeting on Russell’s behalf, and once she’d clocked off for the day, getting her nails done, and doing a spot of Christmas gift shopping, this time for herself. Her modest optic fibre Christmas tree had no gifts beneath it. Now it would.

Ruby let herself into her own apartment shortly after 7:30 p.m. Shoes off at the door—an old habit, drummed into her by a long-ago nanny—and a smile for the tiny half-grown cat who peered at her suspiciously from beneath the lounge chair. The kitten had been haunting the residents’ underground car park, half starved, not tough enough for the streets, and Ruby had been lonely. They’d agreed on a one-week trial. Today was the start of week three and the ribbed look had faded somewhat but the little cat’s wariness remained. ‘Evening, C.’

Such a pity cats didn’t talk back.

‘I met a man today. A man who saw straight through me, and I through him.’

The little cat regarded her gravely.

‘That’s what I thought,’ murmured Ruby as she knelt, stretched out her hand and managed to touch the little cat’s shoulder with her fingertips before he retreated. ‘Scary stuff, but we managed a respectable distance, of sorts. Eventually. Hey, I got you a present.’ Ruby dug in her grocery bag and drew out a fluffy toy mouse and set it on the floor. The cat disappeared back beneath the lounge. So much for progress.

‘All righty then. How about some food?’ Ruby headed for the galley kitchen, switching on lights with her elbow as she went. She fed the cat, set soothing music to playing and put a plate of leftover stir-fried vegetables in the microwave. She poured a glass of white wine and sipped it as she crossed to the window and stared out over the vast and bustling Victoria harbour.

This job for Russell West had only ever been a stopgap while she recovered from the blow of her father’s deception. She’d made of her duties what she could, and she would always be grateful to Russell for giving her safe haven when others had cast her aside, but it was time to move on and Damon’s observations had merely confirmed it. Domestic servitude wasn’t for her. She needed to find something else to do. Start her own business. Study a different type of law. One not associated with big business and big money. Something humanitarian.

‘What do you think, cat? Would I make a good human rights advocate?’ Sighing, Ruby pulled her headband from her hair and tossed it on the nearby table. ‘No? How about family law? Prenups. Divorce.’ Given her family history she knew plenty about both.

Damon West had thought her headband ridiculous.

Damon West had thought a lot of things about her, most of them accurate. Ruby in turn just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him.

Whether those thoughts were accurate was anyone’s guess.

‘What do you reckon he is, C? A thief?’

No answer from the little cat.

‘But then, Russell would hardly be proud of a thief. Maybe Damon’s a legitimate thief—moral ambiguity aside. Maybe he works for one of those government agencies no one’s ever heard of. Either way, we don’t want any part of him, right, Cat? We don’t like people who keep secrets. Secrets bite. You’d know all about bites, right?’

Ruby took another sip of wine, and breathed a lonely sigh. ‘You think I should have encouraged him, don’t you? Used him to get through the Christmas lonelies, and yes, he’d have been perfect for that. Then I could have handed in my notice come New Year and we’d have never had to see each other again. It could’ve worked beautifully.’

She turned to look at the little cat and the little cat looked back.

‘I disagree,’ she said solemnly and hoped like hell that her decision would stick. ‘I’m lonely; Damon’s solitary. There’s a difference.’

The little cat miaowed and Ruby nodded her agreement. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘It’s a big difference.’

For once in his life, Damon couldn’t keep his mind on the job. He’d found his way to an internet café in Kowloon and logged on to an unsecured network somewhere in the vicinity. He had his laptop with him, the hardware he’d purchased earlier that day in place, he had need of information and he had the skill required to get it without anyone noticing. The clock said 1:00 a.m. Hong Kong time but he was wide-awake. He knew the codes, most of them anyway. All he had to do was bring up the page and start the run.

Why then, instead of doing just that, was he sitting there at the shabby, semi-private computer station obsessing over his recent encounters with one Ruby Maguire? Rewriting them in his head so that they played out the way he wanted them to play out. With him the hero and Ruby suitably awed by his air of mystery and rapier wit.

Not now, Damon. C’mon. Concentrate.

Lena had asked him to look into Jared’s whereabouts. She’d wanted to know if ASIS had Jared listed as active, which would mean he was on a job rather than off doing heaven only knew what on his own. Didn’t mean Lena suspected anything untoward. Didn’t mean Jared was neck-deep in trouble. This was just an insurance run, nothing more. To set their minds at ease.

He pulled up the website he needed, started the run and sat back and put an online gaming map up on the screen while he waited. Two minutes, he estimated. Tops.

And then the laptop beeped and Damon switched screens, noting with a frown the distinct lack of anything remotely resembling his brother’s employment file. Not good. Time to dig deeper and hope to hell he didn’t find Jared’s file down in the pit with all the other dark ponies. Swiftly, Damon cut his way further into the system, cursing inwardly as what should have been a two-minute milk-run turned into a five-minute nightmare.

Six minutes, seven minutes and way past time for Damon to be getting the hell out of the files he was sifting through and still he hadn’t found any information concerning his brother.

Nine minutes into the run and he found a file strung full of encrypted numbers. Heading the string was Jared’s employee number. It’d have to do.

Backing out of the system without a trace took Damon past the ten-minute mark—too long for comfort, with his safety margin well and truly shot.

Pack up, get out. Take the long way home. With the adrenalin blowing through his skull and every sense he owned on hyper-alert.

Minutes later, as he stepped onto the first underground train that came along, Damon West, IT engineer and specialist systems hacker ever since he’d found his way into his high school’s assessment database at the tender age of twelve, grinned.

CHAPTER THREE