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He said, ‘I’ve never seen eyes that colour before. Like moonlight on water.’
Instinctively she glanced out at the moonlit harbour, and returned her gaze to his in frank disbelief.
Kynan looked briefly out at the view, too. ‘Not quite the same, I admit. They remind me of nightfall in the Islands.’
Briar gave a little laugh.
‘What’s funny?’
‘My eyeshadow,’ she said, ‘is called “Tropic Dusk”.’
‘It’s a perfect description.’ He leaned over and brushed a finger very lightly over her eyelid. ‘I didn’t realise you were wearing shadow.’ He looked at the faint smudge on his finger and his eyes gleamed as he raised them again to hers.
She studied the starched white tablecloth, fiddled with a polished silver fork, and lifted a hand nervously to brush a strand of hair from her cheek.
‘Tell me about yourself,’ he invited.
‘What, everything?’ She looked up. She wasn’t shy or nervous, normally. He was only a man, and she’d had dealings with equally sophisticated men before, just as handsome, just as sure of themselves. Well, almost.
‘Where did you go to school?’ he asked. ‘Diocesan?’
Briar grimaced. ‘How did you guess?’
He laughed. ‘It isn’t hard, is it?’
Given what he knew or had guessed of her background, Briar had to admit it wasn’t. Xavier had always gone for the best. The most socially acceptable.
‘And after that—what?’ he asked, and answered for her, ‘University, right?’
‘Right,’ Briar conceded.
‘And a Bachelor of Arts degree, which you got easily.’
‘Am I that predictable?’
‘And then...you did your Overseas Experience. Along with a couple of girlfriends. Or a boyfriend.’
‘I went with a group of both sexes.’
‘Anyone special, for you?’
‘We made a pact before we left. No pairings. We had a great time, without hassles or emotional tangles.’
‘Where did you go?’
This was safe ground. She talked about her travels until their food arrived, and then asked if he’d done much travelling himself.
‘Closer to home, mostly. I crewed on a schooner round the Pacific Islands when I was younger.’
That was interesting, and she plied him with questions while they finished their dinner. And discovered that he did have an ability to laugh at himself—at least at his younger self, fighting seasickness in a mid-ocean squall, being the butt of a practical joke involving a fake shark fin in a lagoon in the Cook Islands, falling from a coconut palm when he tried to emulate the Fijians who climbed to the top with deceptive ease.
‘Were you hurt?’ she asked him.
‘Fortunately the sand was soft. I bruised my ego, that’s all. And took some teasing about it afterwards.’ He pushed his plate aside. ‘You don’t eat sweets, do you?’
‘Sometimes. I’d prefer cheese tonight, but don’t let me stop you.’
He shook his head. ‘I’ll join you. A cheese board,’ he said to the waiter who had appeared to take their plates. ‘And then coffee?’ He looked at Briar enquiringly.
‘Yes, thank you.’
Cutting herself a wedge of pale, delicately flavoured havarti, she asked, ‘So how do you become an investor? My father said you’d inherited a manufacturing company.’
He was placing a slice of gruyre on a cracker. When he looked up she thought he seemed wary. ‘My father’s firm made parts for ship-building. When he took over it already had a healthy profile. He expanded the base, used the profits to buy up various companies in related fields. His business judgement was impeccable.’ A bitter expression crossed his face, so fleetingly that Briar decided she’d imagined it.
‘And the firm survived when others went bust.’
‘He’d never over-extended on the basis of cash that he didn’t have. Since I took over I’ve tried to invest as wisely. And I’ve had a certain amount of luck.’
‘Luck?’
‘There’s an element of risk involved,’ he said. ‘What I like to do is step in when a firm is shaky but basically viable, save a good business from going down the drain, taking investors and staff with it. One of my purchases turned out to be a dud but the others covered the loss. Our shares haven’t made huge overnight gains. On the other hand, they’re steady climbers. They’re worth more than twice what they were a few years back.’
‘You’re a bit of a gambler?’
He picked up the cheese knife, then put it down again. ‘Is this leading somewhere?’
‘What do you mean?’ As his brows went up in scepticism, she felt a flush rise to her cheeks. ‘You asked me to tell you about myself. I was simply returning the compliment.’ She was angry, and didn’t care if he knew it.
After a moment he said, ‘OK.’ And he reached over and touched her hand, just a light touch on her skin. Oddly, she felt a tiny fluttering in her stomach, almost as though he’d threatened her in some way.
The coffee came, and she was glad of the diversion. She spooned cream into hers and stirred it broodingly.
‘So what do you do all day?’ he asked her.
‘I help out in a boutique in Newmarket owned by a friend. Fashion accessories.’
He didn’t seem madly impressed. She supposed it was small beer compared with his business empire. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘How long have you been doing that?’
‘About a year. Before that I worked for a market research firm, but they laid off some staff and it was last in, first out. And I’ve been a kennelmaid, receptionist, theatre assistant—before the theatre company went bust. Of course, overseas I picked up odd jobs—fruitpicking, waitressing—once I worked as a nanny for a little while.’
‘A pretty varied working life,’ Kynan commented.
‘I like variety. I was never blessed—or cursed—with a burning ambition for a particular career.’ She was happy to have work of any sort that provided her with some independence.
‘And you still live at home?’
‘Since I came back from overseas.’ His tone was non-committal, but she found herself reacting defensively. ‘It’s convenient and Laura likes having me there.’ When she had first returned she’d intended to go flatting. But Laura had seemed so relieved to have her home, and her father had taken it for granted that she’d stay. Somehow she had never made the move.
‘There’s no man in your life?’
‘If there was,’ she said, ‘I wouldn’t be here with you.’
‘You’re the faithful type?’ he mocked, as though he didn’t believe that such a type existed.
‘If I loved a man,’ she said, ‘I’d be faithful to him.’
‘And have you?’
‘Have I...?’
‘Ever loved a man?’
‘I’m not sure I...know what you mean.’
His mouth quirked. ‘It’s a simple question, but you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.’
It wasn’t a simple question at all. Of course she’d been in love, briefly and blindingly—and falsely, as it turned out. Because that couldn’t be real love, that died so easily and so fast. Real love, lasting love, was a different thing altogether. It hadn’t happened to her yet, and maybe never would. She only hoped that when it did she would recognise it. But what he’d been asking—what she’d thought he was asking—was if she’d had a lover in the physical sense.
‘It’s a very personal question,’ she said.
‘I’ll withdraw it if you like,’ he offered easily, as though it didn’t matter, after all. ‘Maybe...one day I’ll find out the answer.’
His smile glinted. Briar drew in a breath, ready to slay him with words, but of course that was what he was waiting for, her rising to the bait. And then he’d go all innocent and deny that he’d meant what she thought. She knew that game.
Well, she wasn’t going to play it with him. She kept her expression blank and raised her coffee-cup to her lips. Putting it down again, she said pleasantly, ‘That was a wonderful meal. Thank you.’
Kynan inclined his head. ‘Not at all. It was worth it for the pleasure of your company.’ He finished his coffee and asked, ‘More for you?’
Briar shook her head.
He paid the bill and took her arm as they left the restaurant. ‘It’s a nice night,’ he said. ‘Feel like a stroll along the waterfront?’ The scent of the sea came faintly to them. Moonlight still shimmered on the horizon.
It wasn’t late. Cars constantly passed by under the green glow of the street-lights. The night air was cool but pleasant. ‘All right,’ she heard herself say. ‘A short one.’
They walked slowly, and he took her hand and tucked it into his arm. She might have withdrawn it except for the darkness which the street-lights didn’t altogether dispel, and the high heels of her shoes. It wouldn’t do to trip and fall at his feet.
After a while they stopped and leaned on a guard-rail, looking out at the water and the multicoloured reflected lights, ceaselessly moving, and breaking into disjointed lines. Small, unseen wavelets lapped at the shore, and a fishy, salty scent rose from the breakwater. Briar removed her hand from Kynan’s and placed it on the cold metal of the railing.
Kynan turned and leaned back so that he could see her face. His elbows rested on the rail. ‘What did your father say when you told him you were going out with me?’ he asked her.
Briar glanced at him briefly. ‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’
‘He said you must have taken a fancy to me.’ She tilted her head, challengingly.
Kynan gave a breathy laugh. ‘Not, “Good girl”?’
Briar drew away from the guard-rail, taking a step back from him. ‘I thought you’d admitted you were wrong about that.’
‘About you,’ he corrected her. ‘And your father is no fool. He’s right, of course. I have taken a fancy to you—just as he wanted me to.’ His voice was light, but there was an undercurrent to it that made her decidedly uncomfortable.
‘Am I supposed to be flattered?’
‘You needn’t be.’
She wasn’t at all sure what he was getting at. Why did she have the feeling that half of this conversation wasn’t taking place between the two of them at all, but somewhere inside his head?
‘I’m cold,’ she said.
His teeth gleamed whitely for a second. ‘Sure.’ He sounded as though he didn’t believe her for an instant. He knew she was retreating. ‘I’ll take you back to the car.’
He drove her home in silence, and she felt stifled and fidgety the whole time. At the house he got out and came round to her door, but she was already on the pavement when he reached her.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘The meal was delicious.’
‘You’re not going to ask me in?’
‘I need an early night. We had a party last night, remember.’
‘Aren’t you used to late nights?’ He was looking at her curiously.
‘I don’t spend my life at parties, if that’s what you mean.’
‘How about tomorrow afternoon?’
‘What about it?’
‘It’s Sunday,’ he said patiently. ‘Are you free in the afternoon? Do you like cricket?’
‘You don’t need to offer me any more outings,’ she said. ‘The dinner was more than adequate atonement.’
‘Meaning, you don’t want to see me again?’
Why was he insisting on making her spell it out? She lifted a shoulder, not saying anything.
His voice soft, he said, ‘Playing hard to get, Briar?’
She almost choked on her indrawn breath. ‘If you still think that my father—’
He made a small, derisive sound. ‘This has nothing to do with your father. It’s to do with you—and me.’
Bewildered, she demanded, ‘What are you talking about?’
‘This,’ he said tersely, and he reached for her and pulled her into his arms and kissed her before she could do anything about it, driving her astonished lips apart with stunning eroticism. His mouth was warm and firm and compelling, and he gathered her body against his as if he knew that was where it belonged, with a sureness and grace that had her pliant as a willow branch for long seconds, before she stiffened and thrust her hands against him, wrenching herself away, her breath coming fast between her open, moistened lips.
He said, ‘That’s what I was talking about. If I took a fancy to you—and I did—at least it’s mutual. So stop pretending, Briar. Let’s be honest about it.’
