Dating and Other Dangers (10 page)

‘I know you’re already seeing someone on Friday, but can you do Saturday?’

‘Yes.’ She didn’t correct her lie, but didn’t try to play any more games by putting him off again either. This was purely about survival now. Of course if she really wanted to survive she should just say no, but she couldn’t say no to him—the beating of her blood just wasn’t going to let her.

‘Afternoon,’ he said calmly.

‘Another day date?’ Heat filled her face as she thought of the last one. The scent of the grass suddenly hit her, along with the remembered sensation of him pressing her into it.

‘Kind of. But there won’t be any exercise this time. You need to wear something a little more formal. That dress you wore to the movies would be good.’

She swallowed. No exercise, huh? His oh-so-casual attitude sharpened her antagonism. He
so
wasn’t dictating her wardrobe to her. ‘I can do a little more formal.’

‘Great. Then I’ll pick you up at one.’

‘Okay. See you then.’

He rang off without saying goodbye. It made concentrating on work the rest of the day impossible. Well, not impossible, but it was extremely annoying that she had to be there and not at home so she could obsess.

She went out for a walk and bought an ice-cream—to cool herself down on the inside. Gave herself a headache by eating it too quickly. She really had to pull herself together. She was
not
going to ruin her reputation at work because of some guy she was going to see only once more. She had to get a grip. Self-pep-talked up, she went back to the office and sat down and worked overtime,
losing herself in the tasks and not once going back online.

In the evening at home she texted Megan for support. He wanted a little more formal? She was going to need some help with that. Formal for day-time wasn’t that easy to pull.

Saturday morning she followed Megan’s advice, plaiting just a narrow section of hair near the front and then clipping it back. She totally wished she could borrow some of Meg’s amazing shoes—except she’d have to stuff tissue into the toes to fit them, and that just wouldn’t be a good look. She put a little more make-up on than usual—mainly to hide the signs of sleeplessness under her eyes.

Right on one o’clock she opened the door, and with a brain-draining combination of nerves, excitement and foreign shyness looked at him. Neither spoke. The moment of silence went on so long she started to panic.

‘Is this not okay?’ Totally husky rather squeaky this time.

‘No, it’s okay.’ He cleared his throat at the same time she did. ‘You look great.’

He was smart-casual too, and she was glad she’d gone with the little gilt heels and the silver dress. But she was melting into a puddle—awkwardness was the only thing that saved her. She wanted to apologise, she wanted to beg, she wanted to start over. She wanted so many things that were impossible.

He had his car, held the door for her to get in. She didn’t look at him.

‘Change the music if you want,’ he said as he pulled out into the traffic.

Actually, she liked this band and their loudness. The car smelt nice—it smelt like him. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Oh, you know I like to preserve a little mystery,’ he answered too smoothly.

She glanced at him, but he was looking hard at the road ahead and she wasn’t inclined to try and start the conversation again. Nor was he—so somehow forty minutes rolled by in silent, screaming tension.

Eventually they cruised into one of those cute home counties villages—all quaint and expensive. And then he pulled into the driveway of one stunning country home. There were little pink balloons on the gate, and a line-up of flash European cars parked along the street.

Nadia’s tension couldn’t stay silent now.
What the hell were they coming to? She slowly got out of the car and followed him to a beautiful doorway. Through the windows of the house she saw people in pretty party dress milling—and she knew.

‘This is some kind of family occasion, isn’t it?’ Appalled, she slowly climbed the steps up to the door. All the needing-to-apologise feeling fled.

‘My niece’s christening, yes.’

‘I can’t be here.’ She saw the amusement on his face and her temper flared. ‘This isn’t the place for you to play your manipulating games.’

‘Oh? That’s fine coming from you—the mistress of manipulation. Treat me mean, keep me keen—is that what you were doing?’

There was only one bit of that sentence she registered. Dumbfounded, she gazed up at him. ‘You’re still keen?’

‘Why?’ Roughly his hands snaked around her waist and he yanked her against him right there on the doorstep. ‘You still want me?’

One hand slid lower, firmly curving around her butt. Through the thin shiny dress his heat burned. Her instant tremor was obvious to them both. And suddenly she felt like crying. She was tired of feeling this desperate for
him. ‘I wasn’t playing games with you.’ Oh, she sounded pathetic—and pleading.

‘The hell you weren’t.’ His intense gaze stripped her completely.

And she was pleading now. He was vibrating too—with annoyance, and something else. Something every ounce of her wanted to believe was desire. She gazed up at him, too thrilled by the close contact to realise what she was revealing to him—too hot to care. All she wanted was this contact to become closer still.

She heard his breath catch, watched immobile as his head angled and slowly lowered, his sensual lips coming towards hers. Her own breath caught then, while her heart thundered. She tilted her chin, wanting the kiss so badly. His hands tightened, sending more pleasure shocks along her nerves. She liked feeling the strength of him.

But suddenly he looked up. Too late she registered that the door beside them had opened.

Not releasing her from his tight embrace, Ethan suddenly flashed a totally different sort of smile. ‘Hello, Mother.’

‘E
THAN
! It’s you.’ The woman sounded stunned. ‘You and …’

Nadia flinched, felt his muscles spasm too. Suddenly it registered that she was resting all her weight against him. But she couldn’t pull away. The steel band across her back—i.e. his arm—wouldn’t let her. Desperately she licked her lips, so she could manage a smile, and turned her head to face the one woman she’d never, ever expected to meet.

‘Ethan?’ Another voice, and then two other, younger women materialised to flank his mother’s sides.

‘Mother, meet Nadia. Nadia, this is my mother, Victoria, and my two sisters Jessica and Polly.’ The mocking amusement in his voice was apparent, but it didn’t chase the surprise off all their faces.

Nadia wished he’d let her go so she could run away to a small dank cave. But he still
held her far, far too closely. She shook her head slightly to dispel her fuzzed vision—only the situation dived drastically when she saw his family clearly. Ethan the Gorgeous just
would
have two glamorous, swan-like sisters and a model-of-class-and-refinement kind of mother.

‘How lovely to meet you.’ Polly swapped a look with her sister. ‘See—this is why I had to pick up Mother, instead of Ethan.’

‘Well, it wasn’t like
you
were going to bring a date.’ Ethan said, still not releasing Nadia from the inappropriate clinch.

‘We didn’t expect you to either,’ Polly snapped back. It took five crucifying silent seconds for her to realise the her gaffe before she blustered with a sheepish smile, ‘Of course it’s wonderful you could be here, Nadia. You have
no idea
how thrilled were are to meet you.’

Nadia kept digging her fingers into his shirt, trying to push him away, but the man-mountain wasn’t moving. She could feel the slow, deep rise and fall of his chest against her cheek—completely tantalising and scattering her focus. ‘Oh, thank you so much,’ she babbled to cover her confusion and embarrassment. ‘I’m so sorry to be here unexpectedly. I hope it’s no trouble. I really don’t want to
intrude …’ She stumbled over the words and felt her flush deepening. ‘I can—’

‘Come right in.’ Ethan suddenly moved, turning and pushing her slightly ahead of him with firm hands on her upper arms.

The three women stepped back into the house. Nadia walked past them and kept walking to the nearest corner—quite a distance in the stunning large atrium she found herself in. Ethan kept pace.

‘I’m not staying here,’ she hissed, facing him.

‘You have to now.’ He grinned down at her, looking too relaxed all of a sudden. ‘This way you can get to know more about me—my family and my history and all those fascinating, irrelevant things women want to know. I’m sure my sisters would love to fill you in on a few facts.’

Oh, so
this
was his way of showing her more about himself? She shook her head—he was unbelievable, and now she was stuck here, with no wheels to get away. Of course her curiosity was ravenous…and he knew it.

From the stunned look on his mother’s and his sisters’ faces she figured him bringing a date wasn’t an everyday occurrence. But she knew not to read any significance into it—this was all about their little war.

‘This is so impolite,’ she told him, hoping for a last minute escape.

‘There was me thinking you were an expert at being impolite.’

She swallowed that, then fired right back. ‘You were the one keeping us in that shocking clinch on the step.’

His grin broadened back to wicked. ‘It would have been much more of a shock if I’d let you go and they’d seen how hard I was.’

Nadia flushed, both mortified and melting again. ‘You really think it’s okay for me to be here?’ She gazed up at his laughing façade and saw the shadows lurking in the back of them.

‘As long as you don’t get too close to me again while there are people around,’ he murmured.

‘There’s a little service at the church down the road in a few minutes, and then it’s back here for afternoon tea on the lawn.’ Polly crossed the atrium and interrupted them.

‘Oh.’ Nadia smiled through her breathlessness. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

Ethan laughed. ‘Jess and Polly have this thing planned with military precision. You can just be decorative, like me. Is
he
here?’ That last to his sister.

Polly nodded with a helpless sort of shrug. ‘But alone.’

Nadia didn’t miss the look that flashed between the two of them. Who were they talking about?

‘Hey, I haven’t had a chance to say congratulations on the latest league tables,’ Polly added suddenly. ‘Most billable hours, biggest revenue earner in the year to date. Way to—’

‘Don’t try to impress her, Polly,’ Ethan interrupted drily. ‘She sees through to my “internetorious” nature.’

Polly’s eyes widened and she looked flustered. ‘I wasn’t thinking of Nadia. I was thinking you should tell
him
.’

Ethan just grunted.

Polly sighed and turned the sheepish smile on Nadia again. ‘Come on, we’d better get going.’

The church was only a few minutes away, and all the guests walked in a festive procession. Nadia walked near the front, with Ethan still keeping a courteous hand at her back. She wished he wouldn’t. It made her skin there sing—while the rest of her yearned for more of his touch. Deep in her belly the urge for payback burned, but increasingly she doubted she had the skill to play these games with Ethan. She didn’t really know the rules.

To keep herself on track she focused on watching the little girl at the very front, the one all dressed up in a pretty pink confection and bouncing around as if she was on a sugar high.

‘That’s Isabella, Jess’s eldest.’ So Ethan was watching her too.

It seemed everyone else was watching
them
. As they stood circling the font during the service, she caught several people looking at her and at Ethan, and at the way he now held her hand tightly—not from affection, but so she couldn’t inch away from where he stood too close. Near the back of the group there was a gaggle of beautiful women in beautiful dresses, and they all had hungry features when they looked at Ethan. Even those women obviously in a couple glanced at them too often, curiosity bright in their eyes. Nadia felt more midget-like than ever, and dreaded the tea party to follow. She suspected she was in for some unsubtle grilling. And she was right.

‘Meet Nadia.’

Over and over again he introduced her, never once applying any description to her name—no
my date
, Nadia, no
my friend
, Nadia, no
bitch queen
, Nadia—and of course no one there was impolite enough to ask.
Yes, he was a master at preserving the mystery. She met uncles, aunts, cousins, family friends, an endless stream of people involved in Ethan’s life. And she was too acutely aware of his presence at her side to be able to learn anything much.

‘I’ll get you another drink,’ he murmured, relieving her of her empty champagne glass. ‘We’ll switch to lemonade now, huh? Wouldn’t want you getting too hot from the wine.’

She ignored the wicked look he threw her, too nervous about being left alone to face questions to be able to rise to the banter. She turned towards the garden, hoping to avoid everyone, and followed a path between billowing roses, reaching out to touch some of the soft, perfect petals.

‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’

Nadia glanced up. From the other side of a crimson rose-laden bush, an older man held out a glass of champagne to her. To her surprise she recognised the smooth voice—but not his face. She took the glass he offered with a slight smile and rummaged round her useless mind. ‘Yes, they are.’

‘I like that one best—
Grüss an Tepliz
.’ He pointed to the red ones and added with a smile. ‘My name’s Matthew.’

Of course, she had it now—Matthew Rush.
He was a veteran political correspondent. She’d heard him do hundreds of interviews on the radio in the morning, when her parents had been listening as they’d got ready for work. She’d been “shushed” so many times for talking during this guy’s reports. Matthew
Rush
—so in what way was he related to Ethan?

‘I’m Nadia.’ She smiled and took the tiniest sip from her glass. Ethan had actually been right in knowing she didn’t want more, but she wanted to be polite. ‘I like these.’

Matthew nodded. ‘Good choice.
Souvenir de la Malmaison.
Polly planted them for Jess a couple of years ago. She did a great job.’

‘Yes, they’re amazing.’ Nadia walked further into the display.

‘This one has an incredible scent.’ Matthew touched a bush smothered in milky blooms.
‘Madame Alfred Carrière.’

‘Nadia.’

Nadia turned at the sharp interruption. Ethan stood at the beginning of the grassy path. She could feel the waves of hostility from here. She snatched a quick glance at the man by her side. But Matthew Rush wasn’t giving anything away.

‘Ethan,’ he said calmly.

‘Dad.’ Ethan clipped the iciest answer back.

Nadia couldn’t have broken the huge, gaping silence even if she tried. Matthew Rush was Ethan’s
dad
?

Finally Ethan turned to her and spoke, his voice betraying a roughness that his father’s polished-for-radio tones never would. ‘I’ll show you the boathouse. Jess has just had it redecorated.’

‘Okay—great.’ She nodded and walked, sending Matthew a smile for farewell, completely confused as to why Ethan had suddenly turned into the ice man.

‘I didn’t know Matthew Rush is your father,’ she said, just for something to say.

He didn’t answer—just kept walking until they were both out of earshot and view of the other guests, until they were in front of the cute restored wooden boathouse. Only then did he turn and face her.

Nadia swallowed when she saw his expression—tight, pale, too controlled. He was angry. Angrier than the day he’d stormed in to see her at work and threatened to sue her. So angry she felt adrenalin surge into every cell, preparing her to
fight
. Except she didn’t know about what.

‘He’s pretty famous,’ she added, still confused. ‘I’ve heard so many of his reports.’
He’d written a book too, if she remembered right. And now the interviewer himself got interviewed.

‘Yeah, you and he would hit it off. You have a lot in common. The need to make yourself important. To be heard by a lot of people. To be recognised.’ Ethan almost snarled.

Okay, she knew she was missing something major, but he didn’t need to go off at her. ‘There’s a flaw in your analysis, Ethan.’ She wasn’t going to let him get away with insults just because he’d been hit by a freak bad mood. ‘Your father seeks fame under his own name. I’m anonymous. WomanBWarned isn’t about me—it’s about making a difference. I’m not taking advantage of my relationships to make a name for myself. In fact
you’re
the one who put our dates out there for everyone to read.’

He glared at her. She watched closely for the steam to start shooting from his ears.

‘Maybe
you’re
like your father,’ she said blandly. ‘Wanting to be popular.’

Colour flooded into his cheeks. ‘I’m nothing like him.’

‘Really?’ His vehemence intrigued her. ‘Why? What’s he like?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ he snapped. ‘Hell, how
do you think it makes me feel to see him hitting on the girl I brought here?’

‘What?’
Nadia gaped. Then giggled. A lot. ‘Ethan, he wasn’t hitting on me. We were talking about the roses.’

But Ethan wasn’t seeing the funny side. Ethan was glowering all the more. ‘I’ve known the guy a whole lot longer than you. I’ve seen that look before.’

She shook her head—the idea was outlandish. ‘You’ve had too much champagne in the sun. You’re seeing things.’ But her humour died when he still didn’t lighten up. He really thought his own father had been flirting with her? That she’d go along with that? ‘You know, it’s completely insulting of you to think that I’d—’

‘I know
you
wouldn’t,’ he snapped. ‘But he would.’

Nadia thought about it. She hadn’t seen Matthew up at the front near Ethan’s mum during the christening. She hadn’t seen Ethan talk to him. There’d been some veiled comment from Polly when they’d arrived—about who’d been going to bring their mum, about whether “he” was here. And “him” being here alone had been major enough for Polly to point it out. She didn’t need a psychology degree to figure his parents had split—and that
it wasn’t amicable. And that there’d probably been adultery issues. Yeah, now she thought about it, some
would
think Matthew was suave. She’d just thought he was old.

She nibbled the inside of her lip and tried not to stare at how uncomfortable Ethan looked. Fiercely defensive, but vulnerable, he turned away from her. She melted, and the desire to reassure him rose—she wished she understood what scar it was that had just been ripped open. ‘Ethan, your father was nothing but charming to me.’

‘Yeah, he’s always charming to women.’

Nadia half smiled and answered softly, ‘So are you.’

Sharply he faced her, but said nothing. Slowly the blaze in his eyes died out, leaving a hint of something like hurt. And he just looked at her. And the longer he looked, the more that hint of hurt seemed to grow. She didn’t understand why.

His lips parted, she heard the indrawn breath, and she waited, her own breath bated.

Piercing shrieks made them jump three feet apart.

‘Ethan, can you help me?’ Jessica hurried towards them, struggling to carry a very red-faced, wriggling toddler. ‘Bella’s having a meltdown, I need to feed the baby and Tom
needs to entertain the guests—and Polly’s working hard to keep Mother away from Father.’

‘Sure—give her to me.’ All calm, Ethan reached out for the wailing child.

‘I’m so sorry to interrupt.’ Jess looked apologetically at Nadia. ‘What must you think of us?’

Nadia didn’t know what to think.

‘She’s just feeling out of sorts.’ Jess looked panicky as Bella geared up for another bellow.

‘She’s not the only one,’ Ethan muttered, getting his niece out of his sister’s earshot. ‘How good are you at entertaining little kids?’ He looked desperately at Nadia.