Pride After Her Fall

‘I’ll get onto the foundation—’

‘Just forward the details to the guys at the track and let me know a time and we’ll give the kids something to smile about.’

He was about to move off when he saw her. She had paused in the doorway to speak to the ma?tre d’. Her head was slightly bent, exposing the lovely length of her neck and making those bare shoulders look impossibly seductive. He hadn’t stopped thinking about those delicately boned shoulders, the fine stemmed length of her throat ever since he’d left her up on the highway.

Nash found himself unable to look away.

Was she meeting someone here? For some reason the muscles tightened all through his body as he cast an inclusive once-over across the room, hunting down the guy. No one had moved towards her, although she had pulled a lot of attention, and he knew in that instant she was alone.

For the first time since he’d quit racing professionally Nash felt the same competitive tension he’d used to before a race.

She turned to look across the room, pushing back a rogue curl with that gesture he remembered, and her eyes met his.

Even at this distance he could see her bow lips tighten. She didn’t look happy to see him.

Irritation sparked as a dozen reasons why he should walk on by and forget about her waved themselves like red flags. Yet as every male head in the room turned as she headed his way he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Lorelei found herself unable to look away.

He stood by the bar, stripped to a crisp white shirt stylishly taut along his torso and dark tailored trousers. His shoulders were impossibly broad, and he radiated confidence and money and power.

Lorelei removed her sunglasses and just stood there, trying to make the connection.

But even as she turned to the ma?tre d’ and gave his name she knew what the answer would be.

A shiver ran through her. In this setting it was obvious he was the most powerful man in the room. He was certainly the most attractive, and the chasm between mechanic and the man standing before her was immense. It couldn’t be leapt.

She’d been had.

Lorelei stiffened as his gaze landed on her.

She’d also been seen.

His eyes locked onto her and for a moment he looked as poleaxed as she felt. Then he frowned.

She straightened, determined that not by an inflection in her voice or the blink of an eyelash should he see how angry she was—although she wasn’t quite sure with who, nor how foolish she felt. She headed over.

Men were looking at her. Men always looked at her. She was tall and blonde and for some guys she was a prize. What they didn’t know was that she wasn’t available to be won.

She did the prize-keeping and the awarding.

‘Mr Blue, I presume?’ She offered her hand unsmilingly.

He wasn’t smiling either, but he took her extended hand with common courtesy.

Lorelei told herself to relax. So they’d had a little moment this morning? He was a professional and she was … well, volunteering her time. Surely this could be polite and … oh …

His hand closed around hers, warm and dry and secure, and she melted just a little behind the knees. Was he holding on a little longer than necessary? Lorelei felt the colour mounting her cheeks. As he released her hand his thumb shifted and gently brushed over the hardened skin at the base of her palm.

A faint look of surprise lit those blue eyes and Lorelei snatched her hand back, feeling exposed. She could hear her grandmother’s voice. ‘Lorelei, a lady is known by the softness of her hands.’

Silly, old-fashioned, not true, and yet …

Another man stepped between them. ‘You’ll deal with me, Miss … St James.’ He read her name off an email printout that Lorelei could clearly see had the Aviary Foundation’s logo.

Lorelei wanted to take a step back but she held her ground. She knew a cut-them-down-to-size gesture when she was on the receiving end of one. She’d experienced enough of them over the weeks when she’d attended her father’s trial in Paris. Nobody wanted her to be the unrattled loyal daughter, especially the media, but that was exactly what she had been. Even if it had meant sitting in the shower every night, crying her heart out.

‘Lorelei St James,’ she said coolly, drawing on the self-control she had perfected during that awful period. ‘Let me guess—you must be Mr Cullinan, the delightful man who spoke to our foundation’s receptionist yesterday and left her in tears.’

The guy bristled, but Nash’s cool, deep voice brushed him aside.

‘It goes with the territory, Ms St James. Sometimes John doesn’t know when to turn it off. Do you have paperwork?’

A little thrown by finding herself under the intent scrutiny of those blue eyes again, for a moment Lorelei had to think. What paperwork? Then she pulled herself together and unclasped her handbag, producing the small glossy folder. Nash handed it over, sight unseen, to the scowling Cullinan.

‘You can go, John. I’ll handle this.’

Lorelei tried not to appear startled.

‘Don’t you want to discuss it?’ She indicated the folder being carried away by Mr Cullinan. The foundation’s president had been very clear: she was expected to go over the schedule with Blue’s management.

‘No,’ he said simply.

To the point. Direct. Like any woman, Lorelei liked decisiveness in a man, but it also left her on the back foot. He’d taken away her reason for being here in a single gesture.

Now they were alone she felt even more exposed. Would he think she had some hand in this? That she’d known exactly who she’d been dealing with up at the house?

She decided to come right to the point. ‘Mr Blue, was there a reason why you didn’t introduce yourself this morning?’

Although she already knew the answer …

‘At the time names didn’t seem relevant.’ His eyes moved with interest over her face. ‘And it’s Nash.’

Because he wasn’t going to be seeing her again. Lorelei remembered how obvious she had made her interest in him and found herself cringing. What was it he’d said about not wanting to discuss it? He can’t make it any more clear, Lorelei, a little voice of self-preservation whispered. He’s not interested. He’s seen you at your worst. Nobody wants to be around that …

She was pulled up short. What was that he’d said about calling him Nash?

‘Tell me, Ms St James, have you eaten?’

Suddenly they seemed to be standing so close. Certainly too close for her to think clearly. His blue eyes moved broodingly over her. Lorelei could feel her body actually quivering in response.

‘Are you offering to feed me, Mr Blue?’

A look of amusement flickered unmistakably in those intense blue eyes. ‘It would seem that way.’ He indicated the bar. ‘What’s your poison?’

Fortunately the answer to that question was always there, even as she scrambled to process the fact he was asking her to lunch with him.

He murmured, ‘Champagne cocktail,’ to the bartender and then quite casually slid his broad hand around her bare elbow.