Enamoured Page 4

“Melanie, what are you doing out here?”

  She stiffened at the intrusion. At that voice. The man she was wrestling with quickly shoved the flash drive back into his pocket as they both turned.

  She looked toward the doorway leading back into the function room.

  Lionel stood there with her mother, frowning. His gaze drifted over the stranger by her side, cataloguing the clothing, the stance. Deborah gazed at her, curious, a small smile on her face, oblivious to her husband’s displeasure.

  “Hello darling, who is this?” Deborah approached them, her lips lifting in a smile of warm welcome. “I’m Deborah, Melanie’s mother.” She held her hand out.

  Melanie tried to shift away, but the strong arm around her waist tightened. Not painfully, and she could easily break his hold, but it felt just a little pleasant, her body held against his.

  ”Hi, I’m Colin, Melanie’s date,” the tall man beside her said as he shook her mother’s hand. He smiled, flashing those sexy damn dimples. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”

  Deborah gestured to her husband. “This is Melanie’s stepfather, Lionel.”

  “Ah, the man of the hour,” Colin said, and shook her stepfather’s hand. “I work for you.”

  Lionel’s eyebrows rose. “You do?”

  Colin nodded. “Yep. L&D Constructions.”

  Lionel’s lips moved, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Really? That’s one of my subsidiaries. Are you working on the site in Hurstville?”

  Colin nodded again. “Yep. I have to say, it’s a real pleasure to meet you, sir. I heard about how you started, working your way up from labourer. It’s a real motivation, working for you.”

  Melanie looked briefly out across the bay. Ugh. Just listening to someone praise her stepfather made her want to heave.

  Lionel cocked his head to the side, giving the man at her side an assessing look. “Really?”

  “Uh-huh. Your first development was amazing, especially considering all the adversity you faced with that project. But you managed to push through and build something incredible. I admire that.”

  Lionel nodded. “Well, thank you for that. Tell me, what did you do before you found your way to L&D Constructions?”

  Colin’s hand rose to Melanie’s shoulder, and she allowed herself to enjoy the warmth for a moment, before she tried to shift away. He hugged her closer. She glanced up, trying to will him to let her go in front of her family. He completely ignored her.

  “I used to be a bouncer at a couple of nightclubs in the city,” Colin informed them.

  “And you didn’t like the job?” Deborah asked.

  Colin grimaced. “Not so much that, it’s the legal consequences that I struggled with. When you’re protecting patrons, or protecting property, or even just protecting yourself, you open yourself up to a liability I just wasn’t comfortable with. It would have been nice not to worry about possible assault charges every time you had to eject someone from the premises.” He grinned at Lionel and winked. “If you know what I mean.”

  Lionel smiled. “I think I do.”

  A waiter approached to tell them that dinner was served, and quietly retreated.

  “Well, let’s go eat,” Lionel said, gesturing toward the door to the function room.

  “Uh, actually, Colin has to go,” Melanie said abruptly. This was her chance to get rid of the annoying, sexy, frustrating, divinely-smelling man. She would get him somewhere private, get the disk, and get rid of him. Legally, of course.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “We need to go,” she said, eyeing him meaningfully.

  “You promised me dinner,” he reminded her, flashing those dimples at her again. She narrowed her eyes at him as he tugged teasingly on her hand. He was playing quite the charmer, the jerk.

  “You can’t let the man leave without feeding him,” her mother chided softly, smiling, as she took Colin’s arm. “Especially if you promised dinner.”

  “And dancing,” Colin added.

  Melanie dug her nails into his palm, satisfied to see the slight tightening around his eyes in response, despite his grin.

  Lionel eyed them for a moment, before smiling coolly. “Of course, I insist you join us, Colin.”

  “It’s not necessary,” Melanie said quickly.

  “Nonsense. I’d like to get to know your young man better,” Lionel said, and Melanie suppressed her shiver at his admonishing look.

  Great. Lionel was going into protective mode. She didn’t fool herself into thinking it was for her benefit. No, Lionel liked to control everything, and at the moment Colin was an unknown factor.

  She allowed her ‘date’ to drag her to dinner.

  Colin sat next to Melanie, fielding the questions her stepfather shot at her. It was an oh-so civilised interrogation over Lobster Thermidor. Fortunately he could lie his arse off quite comfortably.

  Lowry’s partner, and the man who had accosted Melanie earlier, sat across from them, shooting them dark, furious looks before turning to speak to some blonde socialite and her boyfriend sitting next to him.

  Deborah Rhys-Lowry seemed a sweetheart, but a little oblivious to the strain at the table. She was the perfect hostess, and he vaguely remembered reading something in the file about Deborah Rhys-Lowry’s pedigree including a one-time Sydney Mayor as a father. The woman was well-connected, but in a naïve, unassuming way that, while endearing, was a little alarming. He could understand why a dog like Lionel Lowry would want to align himself with her. He just couldn’t figure out why a classy act like Deborah Rhys was with the shady property developer.

  Melanie, on the other hand, seemed so different to both of them. Not gentle and mild, like her mother, or cold and calculating, like her stepfather. She gave the impression of being so sweet, but there was a definite spark, a determination he’d first seen at the construction site, and then again when she’d nearly broken the bones of Lowry’s partner’s hand. Nice, with a touch of naughty.

  He’d seen the data on the drive, had copied it already. He wasn’t sure how far she was involved with her stepfather’s illegal activities—but for her to have that kind of information didn’t look too good, which was a shame. He regretted putting Melanie in this position, but Lionel Lowry looked to be responsible for more than just questionable investment practices. Corruption, bribery, fraud and more—and now it looked like his beautiful stepdaughter was an accomplice. But that was the nature of his job as an undercover cop. You discovered just how well people could act, and how low they could sink.

  “So, does the construction work keep you busy?” Lowry asked now, as he lifted his glass of white wine, the light glinting off his expensive cufflinks. Behind him, the sun had set, and lights twinkled around the edge of the bay as well as bobbing up and down in the marina.

  “I’m always looking for extra work,” Cole said smoothly as he met the man’s gaze.

  Lowry nodded. “Good to hear.” He lowered his glass. “Perhaps you should swing by my home on Saturday,” he suggested. “We’re having a casual barbecue with friends. We could talk over some…career opportunities.”

  Cole inclined his head. “I’d like that.”

  Melanie put down her serviette and rose from the table. “Excuse me,” she muttered. “I see someone I want to say hello to.”

  Each man at the round table watched her leave, as Deborah chatted politely with the socialite. Cole surreptitiously flicked his gaze at the other men. The socialite’s boyfriend looked bored out of his brain, and Melanie’s departure had provided him a momentary distraction before he returned to talking with his partner and Melanie’s mother.

  The other two, though, watched his ‘date’ exit with a keen interest that Cole found disturbing. Both men stared at her with a hunger that neither could conceal. Cole placed his knife and fork on his plate. He’d just lost his appetite.

  He watched briefly as Melanie approached an older couple on the other side of the room. His eyes narrowed. He recognised the man sitting next to the coupl
e. Gabe, the site supervisor. What was he doing here?

  Chapter 8

  She needed to get away from Lionel, from Rob, and now the lovefest that seemed to be developing between her damn date and the men she hated. Melanie smiled brightly at the Stilsons as she approached their table. The elderly couple looked cute, dressed up in their finery. Esme waved to her, and Randall turned to blink, his brown eyes twinkling when he recognised her. He rose, leaning heavily on the table as she approached.

  “Melanie, hello,” he said, lifting his hand in greeting. She reached over and hugged him, feeling his slight flinch of surprise. He hesitated before patting her lightly on the back.

  “It’s so good to see you both here,” she said sincerely. It was good. Randall was a lovely boss, despite taking advantage of her position. He was kind and understanding, giving her time off when she needed it for her study. She was completing her real estate certification so that she was actually qualified to do the tasks Randall kept adding to her administrative management role.

  “Melanie, I’d like to introduce you to Gabriel, our grand-nephew,” Esme said, gesturing to the large man sitting next to her. Brown hair, brown eyes, he had a handsome face and a sweet smile, which he now flashed to her. No dimples, though. Melanie nodded politely.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Gabriel,” she said.

  “Call me Gabe,” he responded.

  “Here, take my seat,” Randall said.

  Melanie shook her head. “No, that’s fine, I thought I’d just pop over and say hello. Are you enjoying yourselves?”

  Esme shifted over into Randall’s seat and patted the one between her and her nephew. “Come, please, it hurts to look up at you all of the time. Sit down.”

  Melanie acquiesced, and took the offered seat. Randall gestured to a waiter, who, with a look of surprise, organised an extra seat at the table for the older man. Melanie sat there for the dessert course, chatting quietly and trying to look suitably fascinated when Gabe talked in great detail about his pet turtles in the specially landscaped garden pond he’d constructed for them.

  Her gaze kept returning to the table where her mother sat, and the date who met her stare every now and then with an intense look of his own.

  He was good-looking, granted. Even the socialite seemed to think so, if her efforts to engage him in conversation were anything to go by.

  But damn, what an arrogant, conceited, pompous jerk. She tried to ignore the fact he’d come to her rescue. She hadn’t asked for his help, hadn’t needed it, but he’d been there to give it. And yes, he’d helped her out at the site—but only after he’d blackmailed her.

  She didn’t trust him. Nu-uh. Not as far as she could throw the big jerk. While she’d love to think she’d inspired devotion from afar, she wasn’t stupid. Or deluded. She didn’t. From the start he’d been almost aggressive in his pursuit. Flattering, certainly, but then he’d turned up here. To her stepfather’s fundraiser. No, she didn’t trust him at all.

  “Melanie?” Esme’s soft voice interrupted her reverie, and she startled, turning to the woman. She’d totally tuned out of the turtle pond discussion.

  “Sorry, Esme, yes?”

  “You seemed so far away. Are you worrying about something?”

  Melanie blinked, surprised by a sudden urge to cry. Heck, when was the last time someone had asked her that? She was usually the one asking that question—to Randall, to her mother…she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had shown her that consideration. Okay, except for maybe Colin after she’d nearly broken Rob’s thumb. But she wasn’t going to think about that.

  She cleared her throat. “No, everything is fine, thanks,” she forced a smile across her lips. “Uh, I have to go.” She gestured to her head. “A little headache. Sorry.” She turned to Randall. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m going to head home.”

  “Oh, perhaps Gabe could take you home,” Esme offered immediately.

  Gabe looked about as surprised as Melanie felt at the suggestion. He nodded. “Yeah, sure. Can I give you a lift?”

  Melanie waved their offers of help down. “No, it’s fine. Thanks. See you later.” She rose from the table. Hesitated. The waiters were clearing away the dessert course, and the band was getting ready to play a set. She could quite easily leave without anyone noticing. But she couldn’t leave without letting her mother know.

  Or her ‘date’. That would be rude. Tempting, but rude.

  She crossed the dance floor to her table, smiling at friends of her mother’s as she went.

  Deborah smiled up at her. “Hey, sweetie.” The opening chords of a popular song filled the room, and some members of the dinner crowd cheered.

  Melanie bent to kiss her mother on the cheek. “I’m going to go home,” she murmured into the older woman’s ear as the music swelled behind her.

  “What about Colin?”

  Melanie turned to look at Colin. She still needed to get that damn USB drive off him.

  Colin’s dimples flashed as he grinned at her and indicated the quickly filling dance floor behind him. “You promised to dance, remember.”

  She shook her head. Not a chance. “I’m tired, I’m going home.”

  Colin pushed his chair back and rose, extending his hand toward her. “One dance.”

  She shook her head, ignoring the urging of her mother. “No.”

  Lionel took a sip of his wine, and she could feel his gaze, watching the exchange closely. She didn’t want him to know how she and Colin met. She didn’t want him to learn of the drive, or wonder where it came from or what might be on it. She smiled, but tried to glare at Colin at the same time as he caught her hand.

  Colin waggled his eyebrows. “You promised.” He smiled, cheeky, charming, and oh-so-aggravating.

  “Go, on, Melanie. Have some fun,” her mother urged, and pushed her gently toward her deceitful date.

  Melanie pursed her lips as he dragged her onto the dance floor. He turned and pulled her into his arms, and she tried to hold herself rigidly as he swept her through the other couples occupying the square section of floor.

  “Relax, Mel,” Colin urged her as he held her close.

  “Let’s get this straight. I don’t want to dance with you, I don’t want to relax with you. When this is over, you’re going to give me the drive, I’m going to leave, and we’re never going to see each other again.”

  His body felt nice. Strong. Warm. His spicy scent teased at her, enticed her. She tilted her head back to gaze up at him. He was staring at her, and his brow had a small line in the middle.

  “Are you happy, Melanie?”

  She stumbled against him, surprised by his question. “What? Why would you ask that?”

  He shrugged, gazing back toward the table they’d left. “Oh, I don’t know. You barely ate anything, you rarely smile. Are you happy?”

  Melanie frowned. “I’m fine.” She felt like she was repeating herself tonight. Fine. Fine. Fine.

  Colin shook his head, just once. “Now, see, it’s a simple question. Are you happy? Yes or no. Not fine.”

  Melanie forced her stare away from his direct gaze to some oblique spot over his shoulder. Was she happy? She liked her job. All the new challenges that Randall threw at her were demanding, engaging, so yeah, she was happy there. At home—no. She hated it. Her mother popped pain pills like lollies, and Lionel was growing increasingly attentive. She always made sure she wasn’t alone with the man. If her mother retired early, so did she. Melanie used the excuse of study to get away from him, and kept her door locked. She was a prisoner in her own home. She was afraid to stay, and afraid of what could happen if she left. Was she happy? Hell, no.

  “Yes, I’m happy,” she said, nearly choking on the lie.

  Colin nodded. “See, now why don’t I believe you?”

  “I’m fine,” she whispered against his shirt collar. Fine. She inhaled, closing her eyes as he danced with her. He pulled her closer, resting his chin on her hair. His bicep bunched under her hand, and she
could feel his hand pressed against her back. It was warm, supportive, and she just wanted to lean into him.

  She didn’t know anything about this man. How is it that she was prepared to set aside her distrust, her reluctance, and just give herself up to the experience of being in his arms?

  He had her drive.

  Her head lifted at that thought. “Give me my disk drive.”

  Colin grinned. “Hm, I was wondering when you’d remember that.”

  “I never forgot it,” she told him tartly.

  “Yes, you did. You were enjoying the moment, just like I was.”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  “You were.”

  “I’m tired. Give me my drive.”

  Colin shook his head. “Nope. We haven’t finished dancing.”

  Melanie frowned. “This is the third song, damn it. I think that’s enough dancing.”

  Colin shrugged and stepped back, his hand delving into his trouser pocket. “Okay, sweetheart,” he said, just a little loudly. Several couples glanced curiously at them on the dance floor.

  Oh, God, he was making a scene. He was going to take it out, right now. What if Lionel saw it? What if he asked questions? The tempo of the music changed to something softer, smoother, sultry.

  She stepped up quickly to him, placing her hands on his shoulders, trying to make it look like they were still dancing. “Don’t,” she said softly, quietly. Firmly.

  Colin arched an eyebrow as he slowly wrapped both arms around her, holding her close. “Oh, now that’s interesting. You don’t want anyone to see it. Or just your stepfather?”

  Melanie stiffened.

  “Ah.” He’d felt it. “Why not?”

  Melanie tilted her head back. She smiled sweetly, but her gaze was direct. “That’s it. Enough. You’ve had your fun. Dinner. Dancing. Done. You don’t need to know everything about me.”

  Colin ducked his head close, and she stopped herself from pulling back. “Maybe I want to know everything about you,” he whispered to her.

  Chapter 9

  Their noses were almost touching. If she tilted her head, stretched just a little, their lips would touch. She trailed her hands across his shoulders, the wool blend of his jacket soft against her fingertips. The cotton collar of his shirt was crisp and cool, and she slid her hands in between the lapels of his jacket, following the movement with her gaze. Heat warmed her cheeks and spread through her body, awakening nerve endings as she slowly, softly, skimmed his chest, dancing across the nubs of his nipples she felt through his shirt. His nipples tightened, as did hers, at the almost careless contact.