Flirting with Trouble. Elizabeth Bevarly

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СКАЧАТЬ slid a manila file folder across the desk, which Marnie was confident would have all the information she needed for the case, and quickly began covering the basics. As her boss spoke, Marnie began to flip idly through the pages in the folder, realizing there was too much information to absorb casually. But, hey, that was okay—she’d have plenty of time to study it in depth on the trans-Pacific flight she would doubtless be taking within hours.

      As if reading her mind—again—Hildy concluded, “Go home and pack a bag, Marnie. You’re on a three o’clock flight to Sydney.”

      This was the part of the job Marnie hated most. The sudden switching of gears, the travel for which she had no time to prepare. It wasn’t unusual in public relations to experience both. Especially for a company like Division International, whose client list was overwhelmingly wealthy, pampered and used to getting their way. Of course, there had been a time in Marnie’s life when she herself had been wealthy, pampered and used to getting her way, but those days had come to an end seven years ago, when her father had lost everything—including the trust fund she’d assumed would always be there.

      Marnie was about to flip the folder closed when she noticed the name at the bottom of the first page. The name of the man Louisa Fairchild had shot. The man who was, at that very moment, lying in a Sydney hospital undergoing surgery.

      Sam Whittleson.

      No, Marnie thought, physically shaking her head, as if that might negate what she was seeing. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. Not Sam Whittleson. Not any Whittleson. Not ever again.

      Most especially not Daniel Whittleson. Daniel Whittleson, the only man with whom Marnie had ever come close to falling in love. Daniel Whittleson, who’d come into her life out of nowhere eight years ago and made her rethink everything she’d wanted out of life. Daniel Whittleson, who had been charming and funny and decent and sweet—or so she’d thought—and who had shown her how very good it could be between two people…before dumping her with a Dear Jane letter in which he’d made it clear she was less important to him than the horses that could make him mountains of money. Daniel Whittleson, who had made her feel cherished and loved and important…before breaking her heart in two.

      Daniel Whittleson, whose father, Sam, trained horses in Australia.

      Chapter Two

      “Mr. Whittleson?”

      Daniel glanced up from where he sat beside his father’s hospital bed. The nurse had spoken his name barely loud enough to hear it. Dressed in the traditional white uniform so many nurses in the States had abandoned in favor of brightly colored scrubs, she looked to be in her fifties and had the sort of soft, pleasant features a person liked to see in someone whose job was taking care of others.

      In the same hushed tone, he said, “Yes?”

      “I’m sorry to disturb you, but you have a visitor.”

      “Don’t you mean my father has a visitor?”

      She shook her head. “No, sir. The woman asked if a Daniel Whittleson was here. That’s you, isn’t it?”

      He nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.”

      But why would anyone be visiting him? he wondered as he rose to follow the nurse out. He didn’t know anyone in Hunter Valley besides his father and Sam’s handful of friends, all of whom had already called or stopped by to check on him. And he was certain there were no women in his father’s life.

      “Did she give you a name?” Daniel asked.

      “No, she didn’t,” the nurse told him. She stopped in the middle of the hallway and gestured toward the end. “But she’s waiting for you in the waiting room down there.”

      “Thanks,” Daniel said with some distraction as he strode in that direction.

      At first, he didn’t recognize the sole occupant of the room. She was standing in profile, looking out the windows, staring at the lights of the dark and half-empty parking lot beyond. She was clearly deep in thought and unaware of his arrival, something that only intensified his confusion. He was about to speak when it finally hit him—like a two-by-four to the back of the head—who she was. It was as if thinking about her yesterday had made her suddenly appear today. Except she was supposed to be an ocean—and a lifetime—removed from here.

      Marnie Roberts. Good God. What the hell was she doing here?

      She had changed in the almost decade since their parting. A lot. Her hair was shorter, and dressed in tailored brown trousers and a shirt the burnt sienna of autumn leaves, she looked less like the vivid, bubbly party girl he remembered and more like a sophisticated career woman. But she’d softened the attire with a necklace and bracelet made of ribbons and beads, a bit of whimsy amid the elegance, and much more in keeping with the girlish flirt fresh out of college that he’d met in San Diego.

      The minute she’d breezed into the ballroom of the Coronado Hotel as he was making his way out, Daniel had been smitten. Laughing and walk-dancing in time to the music, she’d been as effervescent as the dewy flute of champagne she’d been holding. He’d watched her as she plucked a chocolate-covered strawberry from a passing waiter and lifted it to her mouth, skimming the treat along her lower lip before taking a delicate bite. As if sensing his scrutiny, she’d glanced up just as she was sinking her teeth into the berry a second time, and her enormous eyes had widened in surprise before sparkling with laughter.

      Once she’d realized she had an audience, she’d finished the fruit with an erotic flair. Her eyes never leaving his, she’d flicked the tip of her tongue against the luscious half-eaten berry before dragging it along her lip again, then sucked it softly into her mouth. Daniel had never been more aroused in his life as he watched her, and he hadn’t even known her name.

      She’d fixed that problem immediately, though, doing the walk-dance thing across the room to boldly introduce herself. Her short, floaty dress was the same dark green color as her eyes, and diamond and emerald solitaires winked from her ears. They’d been triple-pierced, he remembered, and coupled with the dash of silver glitter under each eyebrow, she’d looked like a wild thing bent on mischief. At that point, Daniel had been so stressed out by the upcoming race, he’d decided a little walk on the wild side was exactly what he needed.

      He’d had no idea just how long and complicated a trip it would turn out to be.

      For the first time since arriving in Australia, he was conscious of his appearance, and he suddenly wished it hadn’t been thirty-six hours since he’d showered and shaved and changed into the now-disheveled jeans and oatmeal-colored sweater the Southern Hemisphere winter had demanded. Then he wondered why he cared. Marnie must hate him for the way he’d ended things in San Diego. Yeah, it had been eight years since the two of them had seen each other, and they’d both doubtless changed a lot in that time. But there were some hurts that went too deep, some hurts that people never forgot—regardless of whether they’d been the one who got hurt or the one who did the hurting.

      “Marnie?” he said softly.

      She turned quickly at the sound of his voice. Her lips parted for a moment, as if she were going to say something, then closed again when no words emerged. She made an effort to smile, but the gesture was clearly forced, and nothing like the smiles he remembered from San Diego, so quick and free and full of spirit.

      “Daniel,” she finally said, the word coming out quiet and anxious. “How’s your father?”

      Still СКАЧАТЬ