Tycoon's One-Night Revenge (12 page)

For once the lack of memory didn’t bother him. Now that he’d had her, all he cared about was making sure she stayed. In his bed, in his home, in his life. The permanency of that thought should have scared the hell out of him, but it didn’t.

Impatient to move on from the past to a shared future, he left her sleeping and dressed quickly. In the wake of last night’s storm, The Palisades’ management would send a craft for them. Their seclusion would soon be at an end and he might not get another chance to seek the answers he needed.

He’d walked the island assessing the damage. Seeing the size of the branch that had crashed through the upstairs windows, his gut churned sickly with what might have been. He came in through the back door, and immediately noted the open doors to his bedroom and onto the veranda. She was up. Good.

He crossed the room, finally catching sight of her on the deck. Morning light traced the lines of her body through her shirt and when she lifted a hand to hold her hair back from her face, her striking beauty hit him anew.

His gut tightened with more than morning lust, with more than appreciation of the picture she made. There was something in her body language, in the taut stretch of her neck and the way her hand gripped the balcony rail that spoke of her inner tension and hot-wired straight into his.

In the clear light of morning she wouldn’t like what they’d done in the dark of night. He figured she would lay the blame at his feet, but he had no intention of dwelling on culpability. What was done, was done.

He’d brought her here to seduce her, to give her cause to end her marriage plans. That goal had been the farthest thing from his mind last night, but he couldn’t pretend to be sorry.

He wondered if Carlisle would be at the resort, awaiting their return. He couldn’t believe the man wouldn’t be. Or that he wouldn’t fight tooth and nail to keep Susannah.

She looked around then, as if the surge of his possessiveness had growled her name. When he approached, she smiled, but the gesture looked as strained and fragile as the shadows of regret in her eyes.

“I saw you out walking,” she said, her gaze skating away over the storm-ravaged vista. “There looks to be a lot of trees down. Is there much damage down at the cottage?”

It was a tossup which Van hated more—the recrimination in her eyes, the false cheerfulness in her voice or the fact she’d resorted to small talk. “Are you going to pretend last night didn’t happen?” he asked.

She let go of her hair, let the breeze pick it up and screen her face, but that didn’t hide the stiffening of her spine. Or the ache of a plea in her response. “For now, yes. I’m not—”

“It has to be now.”

She scooped back her hair to reveal wide and wary eyes. “Why?”

“There are boats out on the bay. I imagine one of them is heading our way.”

“Oh.” Her gaze flickered over him—fully dressed—and then down at her revealing attire. “Then I had better shower and dress.”

“After we’ve talked, Susannah.”

He blocked her attempted exit, forced his attention away from the distraction of her nakedness beneath the shirt and waited for her to meet his eyes. The annoyance he saw there was aimed internally, not at him, and the knowledge caused a subtle relenting in his stance.

“Hey,” he said softly, “don’t beat yourself up.” With a gentle hand he threaded her hair behind one ear and held it there, his thumb tracing the tense line of her jaw before touching the pearl in her earlobe. A hot memory of his mouth, right there, rocketed through him and coloured his voice when he added, “It was inevitable.”

“No.” Shaking her head, she stepped back from his touch and his hand fell away. “You gave me the choice last night. I didn’t take it.”

“You’re here on this island because of me.”

“I’m here because I chose to be,” she said, her voice choked with the same emotion that darkened her eyes. “I shouldn’t have been anywhere near you. I should have stayed in Melbourne. I should have been on my honeymoon.”

For several seconds, Van stared at her, unsure if he’d heard correctly. When he realised that the steadily escalating thrum wasn’t his heartbeat, he turned and looked out over the bay and saw a helicopter zeroing in on the island. His attention zapped back to Susannah’s face. “You’re not marrying Carlisle.”

“After last night?” Her soft words was barely audible above the
thwap-thwap-thwap
of the helicopter’s rotors as it circled overhead, and her eyes swam with the same self-castigation as earlier. “No, I guess I’m probably not.”

Tilting her face, she turned to meet his eyes. “What happens when we get back to Melbourne?”

“We sort out the contract on The Palisades. Then we talk—” he leaned closer, tapped the back of her hand with his finger “—about us.”

Susannah’s heart kicked up a beat and she had to caution herself not to leap into the promise of those words. First she needed to sort out her agreement with Alex. Then there was her business, which could choke and die without an urgent injection of funds.

“I’m meeting with Armitage this afternoon,” he said.

Wow. He hadn’t wasted any time getting back to business. She didn’t even know when he’d found time to make the phone call to Horton’s CEO. The pleasurable ripple he’d started in her veins with his talk of
us
braked to a sudden halt. “So soon?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you at least wait until I’ve spoken to Alex?”

“I need to set things in motion before I leave.”

She straightened, her gaze springing up to meet his. “You’re leaving?
When?”

“That depends on this meeting, but as soon as possible?”

“Because of Mac?” she guessed.

The attendant interrupted with a polite admonishment, drawing their attention to the pre-flight safety instruction. Staring blindly at the video screen, Susannah digested this news. She hadn’t considered that he might be leaving so swiftly. She hadn’t allowed herself to think beyond—

“Come with me.”

His voice, low and intense, was close to her ear. Had she heard him correctly? Startled, she looked around and found those eyes—silver, sharp, determined—focussed on hers. Her heart gave an excited bump. “I can’t. I have to talk to Alex, and there’s my business. I can’t just drop everything and leave.”

“You weren’t going to do that for this honeymoon you mentioned?”

“Yes, but…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze slid back to the screen. A honeymoon was two weeks. He was asking her to…She didn’t know what
come with me
implied. “Can we talk about this after I’ve talked to Alex?”

“When?”

“I don’t know. As soon as I can.”

He fell silent, leaving her to spend the rest of the flight worrying over that upcoming conversation. Donovan had told her not to beat herself up, but how could she not? She’d acted dishonourably, without willpower, and she took ownership of that choice. She refused to blame it on fear or adrenaline or the need to affirm life. Now she had to tell Alex that the temporary delay on their wedding plans was permanent.

She couldn’t marry him, not when another man lay claim to her heart.

“Call me,” he told Susannah, and she read the unsaid rest in his eyes.
After you’ve talked to Carlisle.
Watching him walk away without once looking back, his stride long and purposeful, she felt a panicky sense of loss. That fear—that emotion—must have been written all over her face because her mother tsked her disapproval. “Oh, Susannah, didn’t you learn the last time?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You can try to fool me, darling, but please don’t fool yourself.” Her mother spoke briskly, but the look she turned on Susannah brimmed in castigation. “He used you the first time and he’s used you again.”

Susannah’s stride faltered. “What do you mean by that?” she asked, hurrying to catch up.

“Do you know he’s meeting with Horton’s this afternoon? He called the minute he got off the island, wanting to talk deals. According to Judd, he’s very confident that Carlisles won’t go ahead with the purchase of The Palisades. Does that mean you’ve changed your mind about marrying Alex?”

Susannah nodded and although her mother frowned, she didn’t break stride until they reached her Mercedes. “Aren’t you going to try and talk me out of this rash and foolish decision?” Susannah asked across the roof of the car.

“Unfortunately I agree with you. You can’t marry him.”

Susannah blinked in surprise. “I thought you were set on having a Carlisle for a son-in-law.”

“I was, but…” She made a dismissive gesture, her expression tight. “Never mind.”

But Susannah did mind, and once they were cruising south on the freeway, she turned toward her mother. “What aren’t you telling me? What shouldn’t I mind?”

“Some things are better left unknown.”

“I am twenty-eight years old. Please, don’t keep anything from me for my own good.”

“Very well,” Miriam said stiffly after a moment’s consideration. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but I suppose it may come out anyway. Lord knows why this hasn’t been splashed around the gossip sheets already.”

“Do you mean Donovan and me? I don’t think—”

“No, not you. Alex Carlisle. He spent the weekend with another woman.”

Susannah’s mouth opened but no sound came out. She shut it. Shook her head. Tried again. “No. Not Alex. He wouldn’t.”

“I saw them, outside the Carlisle Grande on Sunday afternoon. The woman was blond, tall, very distinctive in a common sort of way. She was riding a motorcycle.” Miriam all but sniffed with disdain. “He kissed her, right there under the hotel
porte cochere.
In broad daylight, for anyone to see, and I am not talking a sisterly peck. This was a long and indiscreet embrace. I’m sorry, darling, but can you see why I wasn’t going to tell you?”

Struggling to digest the information, Susannah didn’t answer. Alex and Zara? No, not possible. Although she had sent her sister to deliver her message to the hotel. And it would explain why Alex hadn’t called or tried to track her down. If this were true, then backing out of her marriage agreement might not be as difficult as she’d imagined.

“Are you sure it was Alex?” she asked slowly.

“It was Alex. Now,” Miriam continued briskly, “about this Donovan Keane. Do you love him?”

What was the point in prevaricating? Her mother had read the truth in her face at the airport, when she’d watched him walk away. “I wouldn’t have gone to Tasmania if I didn’t.”

“That’s what I feared.”

Susannah sat up straight. “Don’t pass judgment, Mother. You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s been through or how badly he wants The Palisades.”

“Oh, I think I do.” There was something in her mother’s frown, in the dark look she slid Susannah’s way, that stopped Susannah’s heart for a second. “The question is, how badly do
you
want him?”

So here she was, sitting in the foyer of the Lindrum, waiting for Donovan to pick up his room phone. When it switched to voice mail, she closed her eyes in dismay. Was this to be the story of her life?

Susannah Horton lived to a grand old age of ninety-eight. Lamentably, half those years were spent narrating messages and waiting for the calls to be returned.

Where was he? During the taxi ride from her South Yarra duplex, she’d calmed her nerves by setting the scene in her imagination.

She would call his room, he would answer, she would say, “I need to see you,” he would say, “Come on up,” and—

“Susannah?”

She came to her feet in a rush, her heart doing a joyous dance of welcome even though she cautioned it to behave. “I was just calling your room.”

“I’m not there.”

No, he was here.

Looking altogether too gorgeous, damn him, in a dark suit and tie. His gaze drifted over her, taking in the shoes, the stockings, the dress. The hair she’d groomed to within an inch of its natural life.

Nerves fluttered in her belly, but she felt immensely pleased that he was noticing. She might have been miffed with him, but that hadn’t prevented her spending significant time deciding on the little black dress and even longer primping.

“When I saw you sitting here, I hoped to see luggage at your side. This—” his gaze skimmed the dress before returning to her face “—looks more like a dinner date than travelling.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“I’m not too disappointed, except if I’d known you were here waiting, I wouldn’t have let the meeting drag so long.”

Exactly the reminder she’d needed of why she was here. She drew a quick breath and fixed him a cool glare. “I’m surprised the meeting dragged, given how you went in there with such a set idea of what you wanted.”

The lazy drift of his eyes steadied on hers. “News travels fast at Horton’s.”

“When you talk to Judd Armitage about anything that concerns a Horton, my mother will hear.”

“Do I take it you have a problem with the deal I’m brokering?”

“You don’t think you should have run your
deal
by me first?” she asked, unable to keep the indignation from her voice. “Perhaps you might even have waited until I was un-engaged.”

“I don’t have time to sit around cooling my heels. I needed to get started,” he said evenly. “Today was to open negotiations.”

“By requesting the same deal, the same terms, as Alex?”

He regarded her narrowly for a moment. “As I said, a starting point.”

Susannah choked out a laugh and shook her head. “Why would I agree to another contract marriage?” she asked, holding out her hands in mock appeal. “Why would you even contemplate something like that?”

“Why,” he countered after a heartbeat of silence, “are you so opposed to the concept?”

Although his expression was fixed, his voice even, there was something in his stillness that caused her heart to kick in, hard.

“You intended marrying Carlisle,” he continued. “If I hadn’t reappeared, you would have married him last Saturday. I can only surmise that your objection is to marrying me.”

Marry Donovan? Her heart beat hard and fast with the possibility, until she needed to draw a deep breath to settle the giddiness. “With Alex, I knew exactly what was going on.”

“And you wanted to marry him.”

“Yes, I did. I wanted everything the marriage offered.”

“Which begs the question, what part of
everything
can’t I offer? It’s not the money or the business rescue package. I know it’s not the sex.” He paused long enough for their gazes to catch and cling in a shimmer of remembered heat, before continuing in the same deceptively level tone. “Is it the Carlisle name? Or the big, happy family?” When she didn’t answer right away, he leaned closer, and anger flashed brief and hot in his eyes. “Why him, Susannah, and not me?”

“Because he asked,” she replied, her voice thick with the same heat. “It was that easy, Donovan. He didn’t take a deal to Horton’s because he was impatient. Yes, he was in a hurry, too, but he didn’t pick the easiest course to expedite matters. He asked me and he gave me time to consider the offer.”

“And yet you didn’t go ahead with it….”

“Right now,” she fired back, “I’m wondering why I didn’t!”

For a long moment, they faced off. The intensity of her angry words still buzzed through Susannah’s veins and clouded her vision. So much so that she didn’t notice the approach of the front-desk manager until he cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, Mr. Keane.”

Intent on their exchange, she’d forgotten all about their surroundings, but now she glanced around. Thankfully the public lobby was deserted apart from the manager, now engaged in conversation with Donovan.

“A phone call,” he was saying, sotto voce. “A Ms. O’Hara. She said to find you if at all possible. An emergency. You can use my office—it’s over here.”

Donovan turned back to Susannah. A distracted frown drew his brows together as he checked his watch. “I need to take this.”

“I’ll wait.”

She sensed he might suggest otherwise, but then he simply nodded. As she watched him stride away, Susannah did the time translation. It was very early in the morning in California, surely too early for his assistant—she recognized the name, after all those stonewalled calls she’d made back in July—to be calling on business.

By the time Donovan came out of the manager’s office, she’d circled the foyer on anxious feet a dozen times. One look at his tightly drawn features confirmed her worse fears. “Is it Mac?” she asked, intercepting his long-striding path.

“She’s been taken to hospital,” he told her, not easing his pace until he reached the lifts. He punched the up button with controlled aggression. “I’m leaving as soon as possible.”

Susannah didn’t need to ask for details. The answer hummed in the tightly leashed tendons of his neck, in the jump of a muscle in his jaw. “What can I do to help?” she asked. “I can call the airlines, book you flights.”

“That isn’t necessary.”

“It’s what I do,” she pointed out. “I can ensure you’re on the earliest flight to San Francisco, whether that’s from Melbourne or Sydney or Auckland or—”

“Thank you, but Erin is on that.” His tone clipped and final, was punctuated by the electronic ping that signaled the lift’s arrival. The doors slid open. “This is why I needed to get things moving,” he said tightly. “Before it’s too late.”

“I’ll talk to Alex and to Judd. I’ll make sure you get the same deal as your initial bid.”

Inside the car, he turned and their eyes met—one second where the shutters slid aside to reveal a storm of emotion. One second for Susannah to realise, with a blinding flash of belated clarity, that she’d said the worst possible thing. She’d confirmed his belief that she didn’t want to marry him.