Tycoon's Valentine Vendetta Page 3

  “Most of them were coming anyway, but there’ll be a few who’ll come just to check you out.”

  “Gee, I can’t wait.” Lily already regretted accepting his invitation. “See you at seven, then.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” His answering drawl sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine.

  “Sure you are,” she muttered under her breath as she continued up the short staircase that led to her father’s property. It wasn’t until she’d slid the ranch slider closed with a solid thud that he finally started back down the beach.

  Lily dressed up for the meeting with her father. He’d expect it and it gave her confidence a boost to put on one of the designer outfits she’d squeezed into her suitcases in her rush from Los Angeles. Once she’d made her decision to come home she had fast-tracked everything she could to get there. It wasn’t as if there was anything still holding her there. As her profile had waned so too had the friendliness of the clique she moved around in. It had been time for a clean break.

  The offices at FonCom, as Fontaine Compuware was locally known, had been refurbished since the last time she’d been there. Obviously no expense had been spared. Business must be good, she observed.

  “Lily!” Her father’s voice boomed down the corridor as he came into reception to meet her.

  In a whirl of activity he showed her around his staff and the offices. She felt as if she was on show and she smiled until her cheeks ached. Obviously the news of her ignominious fall from grace with her fashion house had been as widely touted here at home. But her father, in his usual fashion, was set to steamroller over everyone’s preconceptions about her.

  It was a relief when Charles Fontaine settled her opposite him at the seafood restaurant near his offices, away from the overeager gazes and the prying questions.

  He looked more tired than she remembered. Last night she’d put it down to having worked late, but in the crisp light of day he looked worn out, the colour in his cheeks unnaturally high.

  They gave their orders and settled back in their seats, each eyeing the other.

  “Mrs. Manson tells me she saw you with Jack Dolan this morning.” Charles Fontaine came straight to the point.

  “Are you spying on me, Dad?” Already?

  “Is it true?”

  Lily sighed in exasperation. “Yes, it’s true. What of it? I am twenty-eight years old and perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

  “Pshaw!” His snort left her in no doubt he thought nothing of the kind. “Did you arrange to meet him?”

  “No, of course I didn’t. I went for a run on the beach. I had no idea he had a property there. He saw me and followed me home.”

  “Chased you like a dog, from what I heard.”

  Lily stiffened. “And so what if he did?”

  “I thought you’d learned your lesson from that guy. Best you stay away from him, Lily, my girl.”

  “I make my own decisions about who I see and who I don’t see.” Lily felt as if she was a teenager once again, being hauled over the coals for having been seen in the company of “that Dolan boy” after school. When would her father learn he couldn’t meddle in other people’s lives?

  “Just thought I’d say my piece. I don’t want to see you hurt again. Not like before.” Charles looked up to the waiter who’d brought their meals and bestowed one of his rare smiles. “Thank you, Johnno. That’ll be all.”

  Lily bit back her retort. It would be a waste of energy anyway. She looked across the table at the massive platter of deep-fried seafood and fries on her father’s plate.

  “Dad, are you looking after yourself okay? Are you certain you should be eating all that?”

  “Never you mind, my girl. Let me be the judge of what’s best for me.” He picked up a fork and speared a French fry before dipping it in the side dish of tartare sauce and then into the tomato sauce dish, as well, before popping it into his mouth. He munched away with an expression on his face that came closer to joy than he’d had when he laid eyes on her last night. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes, that Dolan boy. You’ll stay away from him, won’t you?”

  Hadn’t he listened to a word she’d said? Obviously not. Well, it was time he had a wakeup call.

  “I didn’t say anything of the kind, Dad. You said it.” Tension coiled in her stomach. Home less than one day and already they were set to be at loggerheads.

  “That’s right, my girl. I said it. Just you remember that and we’ll get along fine. Now, aside from him, have you caught up with any of your friends yet?”

  Lily hesitated before answering. “Not yet, although I’ve been invited to a barbecue to catch up with a few of them tonight.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

  “Good, good. I’m glad you’re going to be occupied. Have to work late again. No rest for the wicked. Ha!”

  His laugh at his own joke sounded forced even to Lily’s ears. There was something obviously pressing on him, but theirs wasn’t the kind of relationship where she could ask him what was wrong. Instead Lily applied herself to her calamari and salad and decided quietly to herself to have a word with Mrs. Manson about the type of food her father ate at home. If she had no other influence on his life, Lily would make sure he ate more healthily than now.

  Her father steered their conversation along more general lines for the rest of their lunch, talking loudly about her work and turning heads in a way that made Lily want to crawl under the tablecloth and hide. Instead, she sat with perfect posture and a plastic smile on her face and counted the minutes until he blessedly went back to the office.

  Four

  Lily’s car rolled to a stop on the crushed-shell driveway. She cut the engine and pulled her keys from the ignition. Seven twenty-five. She was running late. From the number of cars already parked in the large parking bay, very late. No doubt it would give Jack another reason to take a swipe at her. If her father hadn’t been so adamant about her not seeing anything of Jack she probably would have called with her apologies by now. In fact, torn between going and another night at home alone, she’d prevaricated for the better part of an hour about whether to come, then another hour about what to wear.

  A gust of wind whipped around the side of the house and pulled wisps of hair from the pins she’d eventually struggled with in her decision to give everyone what they expected. Lily Fontaine, fashion model and socialite.

  He said “dress casual.” So she did. For her. Her strategically torn jeans exposed a glimpse of tanned thighs. The low-slung waist brought attention to the bejewelled belly bar in her navel, while her impossibly high and dainty sandals and silky golden halter top screamed catwalk chic in foot-high letters. Her clothing was her armour and something told her she’d need every link of it tonight. She climbed out of the car and stiffened her spine as she walked toward the sweeping staircase leading to Jack’s front door. This side of the house was no less imposing than the beach frontage; the landscaping around the driveway and parking bay leading to the entrance enhanced the obvious wealth it had taken to create such an architectural dream.

  Her heels echoed on the wooden stairs, heels she’d chosen for the advantage of the added height they’d bring to her five-foot-ten. Wearing these she’d almost be eye level with Jack—on a par. The front door swung open as she approached, just as another wickedly intentioned gust of wind plucked at her hair, loosening another strand to fall softly about her face.

  Jack stood in the doorway. A sudden hunger painted stark on his features as she approached. His unblinking, burning scrutiny sent a cold bead of fear straight to her heart. Maybe she’d gone too far with her choice of clothing tonight. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out she wasn’t wearing a bra under the sensuously soft fabric of her top, and the dropped cowl neck swayed enough with her graceful movements to reveal the swell of her breasts with each step.

  “You’re late.” His words were clipped.

  “Yeah, sorry about that.” She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an excuse. That would im
ply she cared about his opinion—and she didn’t, not anymore.

  “Are you, Lily?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Sorry.”

  She dipped her head, refusing to make eye contact or to acknowledge his question again.

  “Come through.” He gestured her through the entrance and down a short passage that opened out into a spacious open-plan living area.

  Lounge furniture was arranged in front of the windows in a way that offered every guest a view of the ocean. To the right a formal dining suite sat under a modern iron candelabra-style light fitting. Several people stood in small groups, both indoors and out on the deck. Their silhouettes lit by the sun, low in the sky and casting its gilding light across the calm ocean. A few people turned and stared at her before turning back to their group. Lily’s stomach clenched with nerves.

  “This is nice,” she said, looking around the room and noticing the artwork on the walls.

  “Its home,” Jack answered noncommittally.

  He was right. It was a home. Lily’s experienced eye could just about put a price on every item there and while everything was perfect and in its place there was a genuine warmth about the room and the furnishings that made you feel as if you could flop down on one of the wide leather sofas in front of the cheery glass-fronted wood-burning stove, slip off your shoes and tuck your legs under you in absolute comfort.

  “You live here on your own?” Darn it, why did she ask that? It’s not as if she cared.

  “For now.”

  Well, wasn’t he the master of brief conversation tonight, she thought with irritation. That was going to make things awkward. She’d only just arrived and already she felt like she’d done three rounds in an emotional boxing ring.

  She allowed herself to be soothed by the soft song of an Italian tenor played discreetly in the background, the rich timbre of the soloist’s voice weaving around her senses. Jack lifted a bottle of champagne from the ice bucket on the table and filled a slender crystal flute with an experienced hand.

  “Champagne?” he asked.

  “Thank you.”

  Lily assiduously avoided touching his fingers as he passed her the glass filled with the foaming golden liquid.

  Jack watched as she took a sip of the wine, a little of the moisture leaving a glistening imprint on her lips. A small tremor shook her hand. She was nervous. Good. The movement of lifting her arm caused the gossamer-fine material of her top to shift again—movement he’d been aware of from the second he’d opened the front door to his house. From where he stood, to the side, he could almost see the lower curve of her breast.

  Had that heart-shaped birthmark on the underside of her left breast faded at all in the past ten years? he wondered. Or was it still there, begging to be traced with his tongue? A surge of need coursed through him, sending a flood of desire to pool in his groin. Seducing her would certainly be no hardship. Convincing her, now there would be the challenge, and there was nothing in life that Jack loved more than a challenge.

  He put a hand to her elbow and guided her through the bifold doors that led out onto the spacious deck. “Come and meet everyone. They’re looking forward to seeing you again.”

  “I’ll just bet they are.”

  Was that fear in her voice or just the cynicism she appeared to wear like a cloak around her slender shoulders these days? Probably more likely the former. Jack knew he should feel some sense of compassion for her but it was a commodity he was very short on when it came to the Fontaines. Charles Fontaine had destroyed his father, ruined his whole family, without a second thought. The man, and his daughter, would pay dearly.

  He slid his arm around her lower back and guided her from one group to the other, the consummate host, and introduced her to the people she didn’t already know—reacquainting her with their old friends. Surprisingly it all went extremely well and she slotted into conversation with everyone with a minimum of awkwardness. There was the occasional slanted remark but Lily brushed them all off with a smile and a joke. Jack could begin to see why she’d been so popular in the party circuit overseas. She had a way with people that made them feel comfortable and made them laugh. But something about her laughter, the way she spoke, made him feel like she was putting on an act.

  It was soon apparent that everyone there was treating them like a couple and it served his purpose to continue to nurture that misconception. Wherever Lily went, he was never far from her, until eventually she stayed at his side by choice. The simplicity with which it had happened suited him on many levels. Not least of which was that it was the most effective way to dim the avaricious gleam in the eyes of the single, and even some of the married, men there. If his plan was to succeed he’d have to make certain that Lily didn’t hook up with anyone else.

  Much later in the night, and long after the last of the dinner leftovers and dishes had been cleared away, those who hadn’t had to dash home to relieve babysitters congregated down on the beach to toast marshmallows over a driftwood fire. Conversation lowered to gentle murmurs. One of the guys had brought his guitar and sat quietly strumming. If they could have turned back the clock ten years it couldn’t have been more idyllic. Except there was no way to turn back time and make things right. The only way to make things right was to take effective action, and that was something Jack excelled at.

  “So what brings you back to Onemata, Lily?” a voice called through the flickering flames as they licked their way over the twisted logs.

  Jack felt her stiffen at his side. What would she say? he wondered. Would she admit to being virtually broke? Being forced by necessity to come home with her tail between those enticingly long and slender legs of hers. Living, as she had, so prominently in the public eye hadn’t left much to the imagination. And as for any secrets? Well, it was amazing what people would disclose when given the right financial incentive. Yes, he knew her secrets. All of them. No general strategised a battle without sufficient intelligence beforehand. It had cost a small fortune but he was determined to keep the upper hand. He wouldn’t be the loser this time.

  “I’d been unwell. I needed a break and, let’s face it, who wouldn’t come here to recuperate,” she answered with a small laugh.

  “Nothing too serious I hope,” Jack said softly, turning his head slightly to speak to her and her alone. He knew exactly how serious it had been. Not life-threatening, but certainly enough to disrupt her career and to see her agent release her from their contract. She herself had managed to do the rest of the damage by hanging about with the wrong set, being seen in the right places but doing the wrong headline-seeking things. Her subsequent exposure had had the desired effect from Jack’s point of view. It had seen to the commencement of her fall from grace. It couldn’t have worked better if he’d planned it himself, and it had crossed his mind to do so. In the end, it had all come down to Lily. And she’d delivered in typical Lily style. She’d lived high and she’d fallen low. Now she was back.

  She dipped her head, exposing the long graceful line of her neck. Tiny wisps of hair, almost like angel fluff, begged to be touched where they curled against her nape. Without thought, Jack did just that. Winding one of the whirls around his index finger, stroking its softness with his thumb. He felt, rather than saw, the goose bumps raise up on her skin.

  “No, nothing too serious. Besides, I’m fine now.” Her voice stuttered slightly, as if she wasn’t quite sure—or instead, as if his touch had unsettled her about as much as it was unsettling him. “Actually, as surprised as you all seem to be to see me here, I was more surprised to see Jack.” Lily turned slightly to face him. “You were more driven to leave Onemata than I was. And here we are—most of us from high school—still here.”

  The silence that descended upon the group was uncomfortable. All eyes turned to Jack. Abruptly he let go of the strand of hair.

  Was she really that ill-informed that she didn’t know why he’d stayed? Why he hadn’t pursued his dream and left the town they’d both found stifling? Ange
r roiled deep in his gut. How could she not know about his father’s death, about her own father’s hand in what came after? Or was she applying her own special brand of torture in the way that only a Fontaine could? He would show her who was in charge. Before he could say anything, however, a clutch of his guests made their excuses and headed off. Once a few had gone, the rest soon followed until eventually it was only Lily and Jack left.

  “Come on.” He rose to his feet in a shower of sand. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  “I should be going to. It’s getting late.”

  “It’s just a walk,” he coaxed.

  Silently, Lily placed her hand in his and he enveloped her slender digits in his own much larger ones, pulling her to her feet. He hooked her against his body. Without those sexy ice picks on her feet she fit perfectly against his side. His body remembered hers as if it were only yesterday they’d been together instead of a decade ago.

  The tide was out and the moon gleamed like a far-flung silver orb in the sky, sending glimmering light across the wet sand.

  “Jack? Did I say something wrong back there?” Lily asked carefully. “I seem to have generated a mass exodus of your guests.”

  “You really don’t know?” he answered, forcing himself to keep the anger from his tone of voice.

  “Know what? Obviously I put my foot in it, judging by everyone’s reaction.”

  Jack turned her in his arms so that her body lined up against his. “I had to stay. My father died.”

  Her soft cry of distress pierced his chest. She really hadn’t known. He supposed that while she had been up in Auckland, getting ready to give away their child, a short piece in the national newspaper detailing a road fatality was insignificant. Rage boiled beneath the surface.

  “I’m sorry, Jack. I had no idea. You must miss him very much.” She lifted her hand to stroke his cheek with the back of her fingers. His skin burned at her touch.