His wandering gaze picked her out of the promenade of people when she was still some fifty metres away, coming past the newspaper and magazine stalls that served ferry passengers. His breath caught in his throat at sight of her. She shone. And the whole scene he'd been watching receded into grey nothingness.
Her glorious hair was loose, its gleaming mass rippling down over her shoulders. She'd discarded the black suit, an unpalatable reminder of his aborted relationship with Tanya. The dress she wore was like the rising sun—pale bands of soft yellow and orange—a clingy, filmy creation that flowed" lovingly over and around her curvy figure and ended in a fluid flare well above her knees. A creamy wrap hung around her arms. A small gold bag dangled from one hand and at the end of her long golden-tanned legs flashed cream-and-gold sandals.
She was beautiful, utterly, heart-smashingly beautiful. She was also so vibrantly female, every sexual instinct in Nick started sizzling, demanding primal satisfaction. He rose from his chair with the mindless speed of a lemming rushing towards a cliff, and barely stopped himself from striding out to sweep her into his arms.
Charging like a bull...
Leon's warning punched through the body grip of desire. Nick forced himself to relax. Take the time to get to know her, he sternly told himself. It was important. Yet everything within him screamed it didn't matter. Only this feeling mattered.
The abrupt movement of a man standing up from one of the tables outside the Pier Twenty-One restaurant instantly caught Barbie's eye. Her heart flipped. It was Nick. Nick, waiting for her, watching her come to him.
Keep walking, she fiercely told herself, determined not to let her feet falter, thereby revealing some uncertainty about a meeting which should seem perfectly welcome to a woman who was attracted to a man. She should look eager, pleased to find him waiting for her. Anne Shepherd would. It was the sixteen-year old Barbie Lamb who shrank from facing him. But this was nine years down the track. Barbie had the eerie sensation of a tunnel opening up between them, with Nick Armstrong at the other end of it, a powerful magnet tugging on the woman she was now, lugging inexorably on the most primitive depths of her sexuality, arousing needs that con-fused any sense of romance she'd ever had.
The bustle of people around her faded from her consciousness. It was as though only she and Nick were real. Nothing else mattered. She wasn't even aware of her legs moving anymore, only of getting closer and closer to him, her whole body zinging in anticipation of making contact.
He had changed out of his business suit. He wore an open-necked dark red shirt with black trousers and somehow the more casual clothes amplified his very male physique, projecting a dangerous dominance that both thrilled her and stirred a tremulous vulnerability. She dragged her gaze back to his face, the darkly handsome face that had haunted many dreams. He smiled at her and it was like a burst of sunshine chasing away the miseries of the past.
I'm Anne, she thought, and smiled back at him Anne Shepherd, letting the ghost of a broken young heart melt away under the brilliance of being smiled upon.
He stepped around the table and pulled out a chair ready for her," a gentlemanly courtesy that was all to frequently overlooked these days in the dubious name of equality. 'You look wonderful,' he said, his voice slightly furred, sending a sensual shiver down her spine.
'Thank you,' she replied, her mind too fuzzy with pleasure to produce any other words.
He gestured to the chair and she sat, helping him.....adjust its position for comfortable access to the table
He hadn't offered his hand in greeting—no body contact at all—yet his closeness behind her emanated a warmth that seemed to stroke her skin and he lingered there for moments after she was settled.
Was she imagining it or was he touching her hair? Perhaps the light breeze off the harbour was ruffling it Yet her pulse quickened at the thought of him feeling it, liking it, wanting to touch.
She was about to look up when he moved, stepping around the table, back to his own chair. His smile seemed to simmer with sensual satisfaction as he sat down and Barbie was instantly certain he had run his fingers through her hair.
It's a lovely evening,' she remarked, trying to ignore the wild catapulting of her heart inside her chest.
'Perfect,' he answered, his vivid blue eyes focused directly on her, making the comment intensely personal.
Is this a favorite restaurant of yours?'
'It's good and it's handy. I live close by.'
Oh?' Her stomach fluttered. Was Sue right about bed and breakfast being on his agenda? For all her bravado about possibly wanting that, too...did she re-ally'? This fast?
He gave her a quizzical look. 'Does that disturb you?
She shrugged. 'Why should it? You have to live somewhere. Though it must be expensive to rent anything in this part of the city.'
I don't rent. I bought one of the apartments built above the colonnade.'
'This colonnade?' Impossible to hide her shock. She remembered his family being financially sound—a large, double storeyed brick home at Wamberal, two not overly expensive cars, living well and wanting for nothing-but she'd never thought of them as in the millionaire class. To own an apartment at Benelong Point, over-looking the harbour...had Nick achieved so much in partnership with Leon Webster? He frowned. 'It does disturb you.' 'It's just...you're talking very serious money here I didn't realize...' The party on Observatory Hill should have told her. Plus the renovated warehouse at Glebe. Did he own that, too? 'Realize what?'
'How...how rich you are,' she blurted out. His mouth quirked. 'Is that a black mark against me?'
It sounded absurd. How could wealth attained by hard work and talent be a black mark against anyone Yet it put him on a level far above her own situation where she and Sue were struggling to make ends meet. She wondered who and what Tanya Wells was—a high-flying career person, a socialite? All this time she'd been thinking of Nick as the Nick she had known, wanting him to love her, while he...how was he thinking of her? Bed and breakfast?
'What's the problem, Anne?' he asked quietly, caringly.
Anne...
She had changed from the person she once was.
He had changed, too. This was, indeed, a new ball game, and it had to be accepted as the current day reality it was. Pursuing a dream—an old dream—suddenly seemed very foolish. Yet looking at Nick, she felt the same drawing power he'd always had on her. More...
She took a deep breath and spelled out one undeniable truth. 'I'm not in your league. I'm a professional singer but it's never been what I'd call steady work and I've never cracked the big time. I love singing and I make a living out of it.'
'Nothing wrong with that,' he slid in. 'Not many people can make a living out of doing what they re-ally enjoy doing. It's great that you've been able to in what must be a tough, competitive field.' He leaned forward earnestly, his eyes warmly approving. 'I admire you for going after it, taking it on.' Smooth words, persuasive words...sincere words? 'I share the rent for a very ordinary, two-bedroom apartment at Ryde. Hardly high class,' she stated brusquely, needing to clear up this issue of status.
He smiled ironically. 'When I first came to Sydney, I rented a room in a dump of a place at Surrey Hills. It was all I could afford. I do understand living within one's means, Anne. And I respect it.'
But it's different for you now, and you're obviously accustomed to its being different,' she argued. 'Yes. And I won't say I'm not glad to be in a position where I can buy most things I want.' Did he think he could buy her? Had his money attracted Tanya Wells?
'Things, Anne,' he went on, a more urgent intensity in his voice. 'Like having dinner here whenever I want to. Driving a classy car. Taking a trip overseas. Living in luxury. And all of that is good. I like it. But it doesn't answer all the needs I have.'
His eyes burned into hers as he asked, 'Would it answer all yours?'
She flushed. 'I'm not a gold-digger.' 'And I'm not looking for a cheap thrill from you' 'What do you want with me?' The challenge sliced off her tongue, laced with the cynicism Sue had fed her.
'To know you.'
'There are all sorts of knowing,' she flashed back, her eyes nailing her meaning. 'What sense are you talking about?' 'Every sense,'
She stared at him, desperate to believe he spoke the truth. He held her gaze unflinchingly, beating down any skepticism over his intentions. The tightness in her chest slowly eased. Sue had to be wrong. Nick looked truly genuine in his desire to know more of her than a one-night stand would give him.
'Did some rich guy hurt you, Anne?' he asked quietly.
Again she flushed under his directness. 'Why would you think so?'
'Firstly, you are quite stunningly beautiful. Having you would be an ego boost to many men, and rich guys generally see beauty in a woman as a reflection of their success in life.'
'Do you?'
He shook his head. 'I want more in a woman than skin-deep beauty. I guess you could say I've been taken in by that a couple of times,' he added wryly. We all make mistakes. I was just wondering if you'd been taken in, too. It was the idea of my being rich that upset you.'
Her hands fluttered an agitated appeal. 'I hadn't thought about you in those terms. It came as a shock. I felt...foolish.'
He reached across the table and took one of her hands, pressing it into a stillness that was meant to soothe fears, yet the feel of his flesh encasing hers sent a wave of exhilarating warmth through her bloodstream and set off deep tremors of desire for a more intimate touching.