Her Deal with the Devil. Nicola Marsh
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these polished floorboards one day, who wanted to prove to herself she didn’t have to be a stress-head to be the best in this business and could physically handle the pressures of the only job she’d ever known—the job she valued above all else.
Her brush with chronic fatigue syndrome had left her weak and debilitated. She never wanted to feel that frail again. Ever.
Resuming her position as leader of Seaborns and doing a damn good job was more about proving to herself that she was past her vulnerabilities than anything else.
She had to test her physical capabilities, had to prove she could handle whatever the future held.
‘You and Jax pulled off a coup with the auction. Proceeds are still coming in.’
Ruby shrugged, her bashful smirk not fooling Sapphie for a second. Her creative genius sister loved accolades, and the fact that every one of her signature Seaborn pieces had been snapped up at a recent gala auction had ensured orders flooded in. And kept Seaborns viable.
Something she now intended to do. Her way.
‘We did okay.’ A coy smile curved Ruby’s lips. ‘For two people who couldn’t see what was right in front of their noses ’til it was almost too late.’
Even now Sapphie could hardly believe Ruby and Jax had fallen in love and made their marriage real in every way that counted. The two were worlds apart yet they connected on a deep emotional level she sometimes envied.
What would it be like to be so into another person you were willing to tie yourself to them to life?
The way she was practically married to Seaborns, she’d probably never know.
‘I’m so happy for you.’ Sapphie’s eyes misted over and she blamed it on the steam from her peppermint tea.
‘Thanks, sis.’ Ruby sipped at her tea before lowering it to pin her with a probing stare. ‘So what are you going to do?’
‘About?’
‘Patrick Fourde.’
Damn, even hearing the guy’s name made her belly knot with trepidation.
‘I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.’
‘Not about work.’ Ruby rolled her eyes. ‘About what I saw out the back.’
Sapphie didn’t want to think about what had happened out the back. She didn’t want to give credence to a single thing the flirtatious charmer had said or done.
She surreptitiously rubbed the back of her hand where the imprint from his lips lingered to prove it.
He’d been goading her like in the bad old days, nothing more. The fact she’d let him get to her—not good.
She was older and wiser now. Time to prove she could work with him without letting his deliberate barbs affect her.
‘He could be good for you.’ Ruby wound the end of her ponytail around her fingertip in the same absentminded way she did while pondering her next creation. ‘Bit of fun. Nothing serious. Clear out the cobwebs, metaphorically speaking.’
Sapphie grabbed the nearest teatowel and chucked it at Ruby’s head. Her sister ducked, laughing.
‘You’re right about me needing to date again but I wouldn’t touch Patrick Fourde if he was the last guy on earth.’
Ruby smirked. ‘Six-month supply of Tim Tams says you can’t last a fortnight without getting up close and personal with the dishy Patrick.’
‘Too easy.’ Sapphie held out her hand to shake on the bet, looking forward to Ruby stocking her pantry with the irresistible rectangles of decadent chocolate. ‘You’re on.’
Patrick headed for the nearest café. He needed a caffeine shot. Fast. Maybe the jolt to his system would snap him out of his weird funk. A funk that had started around the time he’d laid eyes on Sapphire Seaborn again.
He shouldn’t have come, he knew that, but he’d been unable to stay away.
The cool blonde had always had that effect on him. There’d been something about her in high school that had made him want to ruffle her poised, pristine exterior.
Rather than hating the way she’d turned up her pert nose, as if she had better things to do than hang out with him to study, he’d made it his personal mission to see how far he could push before she’d crack.
She never had, and seeing her name on his meeting manifesto was the reason he’d shown up today.
Curiosity. Was she still the same uptight prig? Would he be able to work with her? Seaborns were the best in Melbourne, and that was what he needed for his venture. But being stuck alongside Miss Prissy for the duration of the Fashion Week campaign wasn’t his idea of fun.
Until he’d fired his first barb. She’d parried it and had unexpectedly catapulted him back in time. For some unknown, masochistic reason he’d wanted to annoy her all over again for the fun of it.
That kiss on the hand had done it too. He’d seen the initial flash of antagonism in her icy blue stare, the tiny frown between her perfectly plucked brows.
But he’d also glimpsed an uncharacteristic softening, a thawing of ice to fire, when he’d lingered over her hand, and that had shocked him. Almost as much as his physical reaction.
Hand-kissing a turn on? Who would’ve thought?
It reminded him of the other time they’d kissed, when he’d managed to delve beneath her frosty veneer and prove she wasn’t as immune as she’d like to think.
That was what he had to do if he were to work with her. Keep her off-guard. Maintain control. And show he wouldn’t tolerate her coolly disdainful treatment.
This time he had something she wanted and she must want it real bad. For Sapphire to approach him for business…Well, Seaborns must be in a worse place than the rumours he’d heard.
Seaborns. He glanced at the elegant art deco cream façade, at the gleaming honey floorboards beneath discreet downlights, at the shimmer and sparkle of exquisite gems behind glass.
And he remembered. Remembered the night he’d brought her home from the graduation dance because her lousy date had been too drunk to drive. Remembered standing in this very spot outside the showroom, reverting to his usual taunts to cheer her up, hating the way the first time he’d seen her vulnerable, seen beneath her outer shell, had made him feel sad rather than victorious.
He remembered the sounds of soft laughter from nearby restaurants, the distinct clang of a tram bell, the faintest wistful sigh a moment before he’d ignored his misgivings and kissed her.
It had been a crazy spur-of-the-moment thing to stop her lower lip wobbling. He’d liked teasing the Ice Princess. He would have hated seeing her cry.
So he’d had no option but to distract her.
He’d expected a kiss to do that and then some.
The part where she’d combusted and he’d lost control a little…Not supposed to happen.
Who would have thought beneath Sapphire’s glacial surface lay a bubbling hotbed of hormones?
He’d kissed a lot of women in his time, in the endless whirl of parties and fashion events throughout Europe, and dated some of the hottest women in the world, but that kiss with Sapphire Seaborn…
Something else.
Not that he deliberately remembered it, but every now and then, when a blue eyed-blonde gave him a haughty glare, he’d remember her and that brief moment when he’d glimpsed a tantalising sliver of more.
Back then she’d shoved him away and fled. Wanting to ease her mortification—and maybe rub her nose in it a little, because old habits died hard—he’d tried calling once, e-mailed and texted a couple of times.
Predictably,