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His latest reputed lover was a gloriously beautiful Greek heiress, quite recently divorced. Rumour had it that Alex had been the reason for the marriage breakup but Serina found that difficult to believe. He was noted for an iron-bound sense of integrity, and it seemed unlikely he’d let a passing fancy for a beautiful woman compromise that.
However, she thought with another spurt of cynicism, what did she really know about him? Nothing, except that he’d used his formidable intelligence, ruthless drive and an uncompromising authority to build a worldwide business empire.
Besides, his fancy for his Greek lover might not be passing.
Alex’s tone was matter-of-fact. ‘Why? I have no partner or significant other.’
So that was that. Neither have I seemed far too much like a bald, much too obvious invitation.
Serina contented herself with a short nod, and kept her eyes fixed on the throng whirling behind him. He was an excellent dancer, moving with the lithe, muscular grace of an athlete, and wearing his formal clothes with a kind of lethal elegance that proclaimed the powerful body beneath.
‘So what’s ahead for you?’Alex asked coolly. ‘More of the same?’
‘More weddings? No one else I know is getting married in the immediate future,’ she returned, deflecting the query.
He met her glance with a glinting one of his own. ‘You’re happy just doing the social round?’
A little shortly, Serina replied, ‘Actually, I’m planning to go back to school.’
Alex’s gaze sharpened. ‘You surprise me. I thought you’d settled into being Rassel’s muse.’
‘We decided he needed a new one,’ she told him without rancour.
Her time with the up-and-coming Parisian fashion designer had been stimulating but, although losing the very generous salary was a blow, she’d been relieved when he’d decided he needed someone more edgy, more in tune with his new direction.
She had no illusions. Rassel had originally chosen her because she had the entrée to the circles he aspired to. The fact that she both photographed well and possessed the body to display his clothes superbly had helped him make the decision. It had always been a problematic relationship; although Rassel referred to her as his muse he’d expected her to behave like a model, and had only reluctantly accepted any input from her. Now that he’d made his reputation he didn’t need her any more.
And she didn’t miss his monstrous ego or his insecurity.
Alex asked, ‘So what are you going to study? Horticulture?’
Did he know she wrote a column on gardens?
‘Landscape architecture.’
She was so looking forward to it. She’d just come into a small inheritance from her grandfather, the last King of Montevel. Added to the money she earned for the column, the bequest would provide enough money for Doran to finish university as well as pay her tuition fees and living expenses.
It would mean an even more rigorous routine of scrimping, but she was accustomed to that.
‘I suppose that figures. Will you continue writing your garden column for that celebrity magazine?’Alex’s dismissive tone made it quite clear what he thought of the publication.
‘Of course.’ Loyalty to the editor made her enlarge on her first stiff response. ‘They took a chance on me and I’ve always done my best to live up to their expectations.’
Why on earth was she justifying herself to this man? She tried to ignore a turbulent flutter beneath her ribs when she parried his enigmatic gaze.
‘Why landscape architecture? It’s a far cry from writing about pretty flowers and people who never get their hands dirty.’
Allowing a hint of frost to chill her words, she said, ‘Apart from admiring the beauty of what they achieve, I respect the hopeless, impossible ambition of gardeners, their desire to create a perfect, idealised landscape—to return to Eden.’ Crisply she finished, ‘And I’ll be good at it.’
‘Your title and social cachet will see that you succeed.’
The comment, delivered in a negligent voice, hurt her. Especially since she knew there was an element of truth to it.
Serina hid her stormy gaze with long lashes. ‘It will help. But to succeed I’ll need more than that.’
‘And you think you have whatever it takes?’
‘I know I have,’ she said calmly.
For answer he pulled her hand into a suitable position for inspection. ‘Perfect skin,’ he murmured on a sardonic note. ‘Not a scratch or stain anywhere. Immaculately manicured nails. I’ll bet you’ve never got your hands dirty.’
The corners of her mouth curved upwards and her eyes glittered. ‘How much will you wager?’
Alex’s laugh smashed through defences already weakened by the feel of his arms around her and the subtle connection with his body, the brush of his thighs against her, the barely discernible scent that seemed to be a mixture of soap and his own inherent male essence.
‘Nothing,’ he said promptly, returning her hand to its normal position. ‘If you want to gamble you shouldn’t show your hand so obviously. Did you have a flower garden as a child?’
‘I did, and a very productive vegetable plot. My mother believed gardening was good for children.’
His expression gave nothing away. Hard-featured, magnetic, he was far too handsome—and Serina was far too aware of his dangerous charisma.
He said, ‘Of course, I should have remembered that your parents’ garden on the Riviera was famous for its beauty.’
‘Yes.’ Her mother had been the guiding light behind that. Working in her garden had helped soothe her heart whenever her husband’s affairs figured in the gossip columns.
The property had been sold after her parents’ deaths, gone like everything else to pay the debts they’d left behind.
The music drew to an end, and Alex loosened his strong arm about her, looking down with a smile that was pure male challenge. ‘You should come to New Zealand. It has fascinating plants, superb scenery and some of the best gardens in the world.’
‘So I believe. Perhaps one of these days I’ll get there.’
‘I’m going back tomorrow. Why not come with me?’
Startled, she flashed him a glance, wondering at his unexpectedly keen scrutiny. Why on earth had he suggested such a crazy thing? Yet she had to resist a fierce desire to take him up on his offer—and on whatever else he was offering.
Just pack a small bag and go…
But of course she couldn’t. Reluctantly she said, ‘Thank you very much but no, I can’t just head off like that, however much I might want to.’
‘Is there anything keeping you on this side of the world? An occasion you don’t dare miss?’ He paused before drawling, ‘A lover?’
Colour flared briefly in her cheeks. A lover? No such thing in her life—ever.
‘No,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘But I can’t just disappear.’
‘Why not? Haruru—the place I own in Northland—is on the coast, and if you’re interested in flora there’s a lot of bush on it.’ When she looked at him enquiringly he expanded, ‘In New Zealand all forest is called bush. And in Northland, my home, botanists are still discovering new species of plants.’
He smiled down at her with such charm that for a charged moment she forgot everything but a highly suspicious desire to go with him.
It was high summer, and the small, cheap apartment in the back street of Nice was stuffy and hot, the streets crowded with tourists…Photographs she’d seen of New Zealand had shown a green country, lush and cool and mysterious.
But it was impossible. ‘It sounds wonderful, but I don’t do impulse,’ she returned lightly.
‘Then perhaps it’s time you did. Bring your brother, if you want to.’
If only! Temptation wooed her, fogging her brain and reducing her willpower to a pale imitation of its normal robust self.
A trip to New Zealand might divert Doran from his increasingly worrying preoccupation with that wretched video game he and his friends were concocting. Prone to violent enthusiasms, he usually lost interest as quickly as he’d found it, but his fascination with this latest pursuit seemed to be coming worryingly close to an addiction. Serina had barely seen him during the past few months.
A holiday could wean him away from it.
It suggested a way for her to avoid the frustration of these past months, too. The sly innuendoes and unspoken sympathy, the rudeness of media people demanding to know how she felt now that her heart was supposedly shattered, the downright lies written about her in the tabloids—it had all been getting to her, she admitted bleakly.
If she went to New Zealand with Alex Matthews her world would assume they were lovers. How she’d enjoy hurling a supposed affair in every smug, avid face! A sharp, clamouring excitement almost persuaded her to agree.
For a moment she wavered, only to rally at the return of common sense. Just how would that prove she wasn’t hiding a broken heart or shattered hopes?
It wouldn’t. The gossips would accurately peg it as bravado, and therefore further confirmation of their suspicions.
‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said carefully, ‘and I’m sure Doran would love to visit New Zealand.’
‘But?’ Alex said ironically.
‘We can’t afford a holiday right now.’
Broad shoulders lifted in a slight shrug, but his gaze didn’t waver. ‘I share a jet with Kelt and Gerd, so transport won’t be a problem. And I have an appointment in Madrid in a month’s time, so I could drop you both off at Nice on the way there.’ He looked down, eyes glinting, and challenged softly, ‘Scared, Princess?’
‘My name is Serina,’ she stated, tipped off balance by the cynical note in his voice. ‘What reason do I have to be afraid?’
Apprehensive, yes. Her stomach felt as though she were standing on the edge of a high cliff. Alex Matthews was way out of her league. Yet Doran…
She looked across the ballroom to her brother, laughing with a group of young men, one of whom was his greatest friend, the son of an old associate of her father’s, another exile from Montevel. It was young Janke who’d introduced Doran to the excitement of computer gaming. Together they’d come up with the idea of creating their own game and making a fortune by selling the rights.
It would be a huge success, Doran had told her enthusiastically, and sworn her to secrecy in case any other video game creator got wind of their idea and stole it.
At first she’d dismissed it as an amusing fantasy on their part—until the project had taken over Doran’s life.
A month on the other side of the world might just break the spell.
Alex said bluntly, ‘You have nothing to fear from me.’
Colour heated her skin. ‘I know that,’ she said on a note that probably sounded a bit equivocal.
As though she hadn’t spoken, he went on, ‘And accommodation won’t be a problem—I live in a huge old Victorian house with enough bedrooms for a huge Victorian family. As well as being beautiful, Northland is interesting in itself—the first place where Maori and Europeans met and mingled and clashed.’
The hairs on the back of her neck lifted in a primitive reaction to…what?
Nothing, she told herself curtly. Although Alex’s tone was pleasant, it was also impersonal, and his offer to host Doran as well meant he didn’t expect her to fall into his bed.
Well, not right away…
Nerves zinging, she said, ‘It’s just not possible,’ and dismissed the subversive thought that a month in New Zealand would provide her with photographs and information for quite a few columns.
But Alex must have noticed that moment of weakness because he said, ‘Why not?’ And when she hesitated he went on, ‘Why don’t you ask your brother how he feels?’
He’d refuse, she was sure. ‘OK, I’ll do that.’
She sent another look across the room, intercepted by her brother, who strode across to them, lean and athletic-looking for someone who’d spent most of the past six months in front of a computer.
When Alex casually mentioned his suggestion Doran responded with his usual enthusiasm. ‘Of course you must go, Serina!’
‘The invitation is for you too,’ Alex said pleasantly.
Excitement lit up Doran’s mobile face, then faded. He glanced at Serina before saying, ‘I wish I could, but…you know how it is.’ He spread his hands and finished vaguely, ‘Appointments, you see.’
Alex said, ‘I believe you’re interested in diving.’
‘Well, yes.’ Doran’s eager response was a sharp contrast to his previous tone.
‘New Zealand has some fantastic sites—in fact, there are two magnificent wrecks not far from Haruru, but friends of mine are going up to Vanuatu in the Pacific to dive the reefs. If you’re interested I’m sure I could get you a berth.’
Doran’s look of extreme longing increased almost comically when Alex added, ‘They’re talking about diving the Second World War wrecks there, as well.’
Serina said quickly, ‘Wouldn’t you have to be an experienced diver to deal with those?’
‘Serina—’
Doran’s protest was overridden by Alex’s voice. ‘So what are your qualifications, Doran, and where have you dived?’
Doran launched into his CV and, when he’d run down, Alex said, ‘That sounds good enough.’ He looked at Serina and added with a smile that held more than a tinge of irony, ‘And, just to reassure your anxious sister, my friends are responsible and expert divers and I’m sure you’re sensible.’ He mentioned the name of a family famed for their exploration of the seas and the subsequent prize-winning television programmes.
‘Wow! And I’m a very cautious diver!’ Doran said, clearly forgetting that he’d refused the trip. He flashed an indignant glance at his sister. ‘You know that, Serina.’
She blinked. She’d had to learn thrift since her parents’ death, so that now the easy way the very rich moved around the world startled her, and the smoothly masterful way Alex had taken control of the situation made her feel the ground had been cut from under her feet.
‘Of course you are,’ she said, ‘but you’d have to get to Vanuatu, and we can’t possibly impose—’
Alex cut her short. ‘Doran won’t be imposing. My friends are taking up a yacht.’ He glanced at the man beside him. ‘You’ll probably have to work your passage.’
Cheerfully, Doran said, ‘That’s no problem.’
Without looking at Serina, Alex said casually, ‘I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. Let me know when you’ve made up your mind. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better go and see whether Gerd needs me for anything.’
CHAPTER TWO
BARELY waiting long enough for Alex to walk out of hearing, Doran said defiantly, ‘Serina, don’t be so damned responsible. I’m an adult, you know, legally and in every other way. The diving in Vanuatu is absolutely fantastic, and since you let Gerd slip through your fingers this will probably be the only chance I’m ever likely to get to see it.’
Serina returned acidly, ‘I thought you were going to make your fortune with your wretched game!’
