Temporary Intrigue (20 page)

“Luckily not many people know about this place,” she said to Shane, slipping on her coat as he removed as many boxes from the car as he could carry. She took a few trays of food from one of them to lighten his load and led the way to the hotel.

In the foyer the security guard’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at the cartons in Shane’s arms and the trays of food Dimity was carrying.

“Forbes Catering for Suite Five,” Dimity told him, resurrecting her haughty drawl.

This time it worked. The guard waved them towards the lift.

“Bravo, Miss Forbes,” murmured Shane.

“What a difference a dress makes,” she whispered back.

She was checking her appearance in a polished plaque on the lift wall when the door swished open onto a small, stylish vestibule. Hoisting the cartons onto his hip as he exited, Shane buzzed Suite Five. Dimity joined him as the Mayor opened the door.

“Come in,” he said jovially, recognising Dimity. “We’ll have to change your name to Miss Multi-Skill,” he added, eyeing the trays with appreciation.

From the background noise, the reception was already in full swing. The large living area seemed filled with people. There was the cheerful buzz of a successful party from groups standing around with drinks, a buzz that changed to a rousing cheer when somebody saw the food.

“This is turning into a triumphal march,” commented Shane, making an instinctive beeline for the kitchen area. “More than twenty people, though.”

“Whoops – looks as if they’ve brought partners. Didn’t occur to me. Hope there’s enough food,” Dimity said from the corner of her mouth while trying to look smilingly relaxed and proficient at the art of balancing trays.

“It’s only party food. They’ll manage. And if we leave them wanting more, it means they like it.”

In the centrally-located kitchen, separated from the living area by waist-high granite bench tops, Shane began unloading cartons. Dimity was annoyed to be claimed by Malcolm, with what looked like a substantial drink in his hand. The swagger in his step suggested it wasn’t his first of the evening.

“Very chic,” he remarked, his eyes lingering openly on her neckline after an approving glance at the food. “You didn’t tell me you had a catering business,” he said to Shane.

“It’s very part-time.” Shane gave Dimity a covert grin. “Too hard to get competent staff.”

She made a face at him behind Malcolm’s back then looked through to the main living area. Her heart seemed to stop when she saw Josh, decidedly debonair in a tuxedo, talking with a group.

Although he was smiling his expression seemed a little edgy. She’d keep away from him. He wouldn’t care if he saw her or not, anyway.

Then their eyes met and his face lit up. Almost before Dimity realised he had moved, she found him beside her.

“Let me take that.”

He took the trays she was still holding, standing so close to her that her pulse started galloping at a rate that surely couldn’t be healthy.

“Did you collect the food? You didn’t have to do that.” He looked surprised to see Shane.

“He’s helping out.” Dimity didn’t think it was the time to explain the extent of Shane’s help.

“It looks great.” Josh was puzzled but hospitable. “Don’t rush off,” he said as Shane moved past with some empty boxes.

“Thanks, but there’s more to bring up.”

Shrugging off her coat, Dimity sensed an absence of antagonism. The two men seemed mutually wary, but civilised. Interesting.

She deposited her coat on the counter and busied herself removing plastic wrap from trays.

“You look wonderful,” Josh said, leaning against the counter.

She smiled at him quickly.

“Same to you. And thank you. I did it without Sandy’s help,” she added mischievously.

“Very wise.”

Dimity picked up a tray of mini quiches.

“These need to go in the microwave.”

He took the tray out of her hands and put it down.

“You’re not the skivvy. Come and join the party.”

She felt herself flush scarlet. “But I’m not staying.”

His face fell.

“You’re going somewhere else?”

“Home. I’m not invited. I only came to help with the food.”

“You’re part of the marketing department. Amanda’s here, and Melissa, even though she’s on leave. Oh, and Gail.”

Pleased with Gail’s status as an afterthought, Dimity was also embarrassed. Gail would be livid to see the humble temp mixing it with the bigwigs.

“I honestly didn’t plan to stay,” she said, reaching automatically for the tray.

He covered her hand with his and bent his head towards hers.

“I’ve told you before,” he said softly. She felt his breath warm against her ear. “Refusal is not an option.”

Dimity was feeling distinctly oxygen-deprived when Shane reappeared, loaded with more cartons. Josh drew back.

“I have to take Shane home,” she said, remembering.

“I’ll get a taxi for him.” Josh hooked his thumbs in his belt and dared her with his eyes to argue.

“Do you want to stay?” Shane glanced at her. “I’ll call Leigh. It won’t hurt her to do something.” He unpacked the cartons swiftly. “One more load and I’m out of here.”

He was gone before she could reply.

“No more kitchen duties.” Josh put one warm, strong hand on her arm and picked up her coat with the other. “Come on. I’ll hang this up for you and introduce you round.”

She looked up at him, still undecided. But she couldn’t stand here much longer, with the touch of his hand sending all her nerve ends into a frenzied tap-dance. It was easier to murmur an acceptance and let him lead her into the living area.

Her evening went from good to excellent. Much to her relief Gail ignored her, apart from one ferocious stare. Dimity found herself talking to various tourism operators and meeting an assortment of VIPs including Global CEO Harold Woodman and his wife, who had timed a holiday in Australia to enable them to attend some of the convention activities. To Dimity’s relief Harold Woodman, a fit-looking middle-aged man, didn’t connect her with the forgotten phone messages. He seemed more interested in art than business.

“Nice place,” he remarked, looking around, “but we’ll have to do something about the trash on the walls.” He waved a hand at some prints that Dimity had also privately considered fairly ordinary.

“Maybe we can get rid of the alleged art work on the board room walls at the same time,” said Josh, joining them in time to hear the remark. “Dimity’s an artist. We’ll have to get her advice.” He smiled at her.

Harold turned with renewed interest to Dimity who hoped her blush of pleasure at Josh’s comment wasn’t noticeable.

All too soon Josh moved on to another group. Dimity found herself circulating too, but unfortunately in a different direction. She caught up with the Mayor and his wife, chatted to the owner of a Japanese resort and tried to hold her own during a rather technical talk about wine with two local vignerons. Somewhere in between she said goodbye to Shane when Leigh rang him to say she had arrived.

Before leaving, Shane had heated food and placed trays strategically around the living room. Helping herself to a cracker and a delicious avocado dip, Dimity decided that while there wasn’t an over-supply of snacks, there was enough to look respectable despite her bungle about the numbers.

She glanced up and caught Josh’s eye from across the room. They exchanged a quick smile that sent the blood singing warmly through her.

Standing near him, wearing a brown strapless dress that did nothing for her thin figure, Gail sent another poisonous look in Dimity’s direction, then resumed her fruitless attempts to monopolise Josh. He was unfailingly civil, but somehow managed to extricate himself each time. Finally, clearly irritated, Gail made an early exit. The suite took on an even more agreeable ambience.

“Different from your place, isn’t it?” remarked Josh, materialising beside Dimity at the kitchen divider where she had retreated to avoid Malcolm. Looking around the open-plan living area, he rested an elbow on the counter, so close she could feel the warmth from his body. “Minimalist, wouldn’t you call it in artistic language?” he went on. “It needs your touch to make it more comfortable.”

She smiled, then glanced at him teasingly.

““I must say it’s so neat it hardly looks lived-in. Not like your desk last time I saw it.”

He laughed.

“This place hasn’t had time to look lived-in. I’m hardly ever here. Might as well pitch a tent in the office until next Friday.”

His words reminded her that only seven days remained of their close association.

“Are you– ” Annoyed, she heard a catch in her voice, and tried again. “ Are you looking forward to being back in Sydney?”

“Not really.”

His voice was low. With his gaze holding hers, Dimity forgot there were other people in the room.

Then they both turned their heads as music rose above the sound of chatter. Josh grinned.

“Someone’s brought their swing collection.”

Across the room, Melissa and her husband were demonstrating a professional-looking quickstep. A few other couples also began dancing. Dimity’s foot started to tap.

Josh took her hand.

“Want to join them?”

“I’m a bit out of practice.” Her protest was half-hearted. The touch of his hand was something special, but the thought of being in his arms was irresistible.

“Well it’s time you got back to it. What’s going to happen when all those internet hunks ask you to dance?”

Laughing, she let him lead her towards the improvised dance floor where he turned to face her, taking her right hand. With her left hand resting on his shoulder she was acutely conscious of the play of muscles under his shirt and the strength of his arm as they quickly picked up the beat and began moving together. Despite the fast tempo and her lack of practice she managed to follow his lead, but was laughing breathlessly and grateful for his supportive arm by the time the music stopped.

A slower tune began almost immediately.

“One more before we go back to social duties?” Josh led her into the dance without waiting for an answer and Dimity made no objection.

“About last night.” He looked down at her with a faint smile. “I was way out of line. I’m sorry.”

Dimity’s hand tightened involuntarily in his.

“You had a good point,” she said after a pause. “I just didn’t like hearing it. I can be a bit prickly in some ways.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Josh said wryly.

“Typical man. Anything for a peaceful life.”

She spoke lightly, but the catch in her voice betrayed her. He drew her slowly closer until her head found a natural resting place against his shoulder.

“I won’t argue with anything right now,” he whispered into her hair.

The dance ended all too soon. A couple of guests immediately buttonholed Josh. Warm from the dancing, or so she told herself, Dimity went out onto the balcony, irritated when Malcolm followed her.

“Want a lift home later?”

“No, thanks.” She leaned against the wall at the end of the railing and looked across the harbour. The thunder was still rumbling threateningly. “I’ve got my car.”