Desert Moon Read online

  Natalie pushed all the painful thoughts from her mind and dug her heels into the plush red carpet, dragging herself free while she glared up into O’Rourke’s handsome face. ‘It makes a difference to me! I don’t know you! I don’t want to know you. I especially don’t want anyone, and that includes Damian, to think that you and I are...are...’

  It was odd how difficult it suddenly seemed to say one simple word as her eyes met those sea-green ones. Natalie had the craziest feeling that she was drowning as she looked up into them, could almost feel the water closing over her head. She fought for breath, striving to draw lungfuls of life-giving air, but each moment that ticked past saw her sinking deeper and deeper into those glittering depths.

  ‘Lovers?’ The man’s voice was low, vibrant as he said the word she’d had such difficulty with, and Natalie shot back to the surface with a rush and gasped.

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Fine.’ Flynn grinned at her. ‘I’ll tell Renshaw the truth, shall I, just to clear up the misunderstanding?’ He took a long, ground-eating stride towards the door and the attendant who was watching them with ill-concealed impatience. There were just minutes to go before the first aria and there was no one left in the foyer apart from Natalie and this infuriating, arrogant, self-...

  She blanked the string of adjectives, realising she had something more important to deal with.

  ‘Wait!’ She caught hold of Flynn O’Rourke’s arm and stopped him, then let him go at once, oddly disturbed by the feel of those lean, hard muscles under her fingers. ‘If you tell Damian the truth he’ll be furious. It will be such a blow to his ego to realise that I’ve been lying to him and why. You...I...’ Natalie looked away from O’Rourke’s face, curling her hands into fists so that her red-painted nails cut tiny crescents into her palms. He knew what a corner she was in, knew that telling Damian Renshaw the truth would mean losing the contract, but would he make it easier for her by admitting he understood? No way!

  ‘Yes?’ Flynn glanced at his watch then back at Natalie with a faintly quizzical smile which did little to conceal the amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘I hate to hurry you, Natalie, but Renshaw isn’t going to be pleased if I disturb him just as the show begins. Better to get the unpleasantness over with so that he can concentrate on enjoying himself afterwards.’

  Natalie sucked in air so fast that her lungs burned. ‘I don’t want you to tell him anything and you damned well know why! Be it on your own head, Flynn O’Rourke! Whatever happens now it’s your fault for pushing your nose in where it wasn’t wanted!’

  She swept past him, ignoring the icy glare from the attendant for daring to be so late to take her seat. She paused to regain control before joining Damian and looked back just in time to see Flynn O’Rourke following her through the door. He stopped to say something to the grey-haired dragon on guard at the doorway, and although Natalie couldn’t hear what it was it was as though a miracle had occurred. From fire-breathing custodian to eyelash fluttering femme fatale was quite a transformation in the space of seconds!

  Even as Natalie watched the woman hurried forward to lead them to Damian Renshaw’s private box, thus saving them valuable seconds they would otherwise have wasted looking for it. Flynn O’Rourke rewarded the woman with a thousand-watt smile then solicitously steered her into the corridor when she seemed too dazzled to find the door. He seated Natalie on one of the plush chairs then took the one next to her, settling himself comfortably with one long leg crossed over the other as the lights dimmed and the curtain went up.

  Natalie sat in the darkened enclosure, trying her hardest to concentrate as the opera unfolded, but it was impossible to concentrate on anything but the man at her side. She glanced over at him, colour surging under her skin when she found him watching her, an odd gleam in his eyes which could only be classed as speculative—but why? She looked hurriedly away, feeling uneasy for some reason she couldn’t explain. Who was this Flynn O’Rourke? Pushy, arrogant interloper? Or knight in shining armour who knew every way in the story-book to fight dragons? She had met him less than ten minutes before, knew nothing at all about him, yet something told her that life wasn’t going to be the same for her now that he had taken those first bold steps into it!

  CHAPTER TWO

  BY THE time the curtain came down for the first interval, Natalie’s head was throbbing steadily. The music hadn’t helped, the ponderous arias and thunderous choruses assaulting her senses. She had no idea what the story-line was. She’d been too intent on the man at her side, his blond hair gleaming like soft Welsh gold in the dim light, his slim but undeniably muscular body just an impression in the shadows, to work it out. She could only pray that Damian wouldn’t expect her to contribute much to any discussion during the interval!

  When Damian led the party out of the box Natalie tried to get a grip on herself. She was being ridiculous to allow Flynn O’Rourke to disturb her this way. She had always prided herself on being rational, capable of dealing with any situation in a logical manner. Men were no mystery to her: she accepted the interest they showed her because of her beauty and the unconscious allure she exuded without taking too much notice of it. Her looks were just a quirk of fate, a pleasant combining of genes, that was all. If anything, Flynn O’Rourke had showed slightly less interest in her than was usual on a first meeting, so it wasn’t that which disturbed her. Yet even now, doing nothing more than just walking beside him, she was achingly conscious of him. Could it be the fact that he had aroused her temper more than any man had ever done in the whole of her twenty-three years?

  Natalie grasped that explanation, oddly relieved to have found a reason. She liked to know the reason for things which happened in her life, flourished in an environment where limits were set and surprises kept to a minimum. In a way she was an odd mix, artistic without given to temperament, capable of coming up with startlingly original ideas yet equally capable of realising when something tried and tested would work better. It was what made her so good at her job, what was taking her steadily up the ladder in the cut-throat world of advertising, and no one, especially not this infuriating stranger, was going to put that at risk!

  ‘Penny for them—or perhaps it should be a pound? Thoughts as weighty as those running through your head, Natalie, must be worth that amount.’

  Flynn O’Rourke’s amused tones cut into Natalie’s musings and she turned to stare coldly at him. ‘You don’t need to pay me. I’ll tell you for free what I was thinking about: you!’

  Flynn’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing as he beckoned to the waiter who was circulating with a tray of drinks. He handed Natalie a glass of champagne then requested tonic water and ice for himself. Natalie sipped the dancing bubbles, seething inwardly as O’Rourke waited until the waiter had returned with his drink before saying calmly, ‘As I don’t imagine that you were paying me a compliment, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong now, before your friend Renshaw starts getting suspicious? Glaring at me like that is a real give-away, darling.’

  ‘Don’t you “darling” me, O’Rourke! I’m not your darling, I’m not your anything! Understand?’ Natalie’s fingers curled round the stern of the glass as she fought to control the fresh waves of temper. She took a sip of the drink then fixed a smile to her lips as she caught Damian’s eye across the crowd. He raised his glass aloft in a courtly toast which she acknowledged with a dip of her head before letting her gaze return to the man before her, and felt a frisson run down her spine when she saw the ice in his green eyes.

  He bent towards her until his golden head was mere inches from hers, his voice a low rumble which made the shudders intensify although she couldn’t really have explained why. ‘I understand that you’re a friend of Marcus’s, a friend who was desperate enough to ring him and beg him to meet you here tonight. I heard the call you made, Natalie, because I’m staying in Marcus’s flat while he’s away, so I thought to myself, Why not repay the favour he’s done me? Why not go along and help out Marcus’s old friend, seeing as he can�
��t be there? But obviously I was wrong to do so.’

  Natalie glanced at her glass, feeling like an ungrateful wretch. Put like that, Flynn O’Rourke’s decision to come tonight seemed generous and unselfish and... If she hadn’t chanced to glance up right then and see the gleam of calculation in the aqua depths of his eyes she might have continued heaping praise upon O’Rourke’s golden head and ashes upon her own. But one glance was all it took to set her straight. He had done it deliberately, played upon her guilt for his own miserable ends!

  ‘Why you no-good—!’

  ‘Not interrupting, am I, Natalie?’ Damian’s rather high voice cut off the less than complimentary string of names she’d been struggling with. Natalie took a deep breath then turned to smile brightly at her host.

  ‘Of course not, Damian.’ She shot a mean look at O’Rourke then smoothed the smile back into place as she focused on the other man. ‘We were just discussing the opera.’

  ‘Were you?’ Damian gave a small laugh. ‘Funny, but from across the room I could have sworn that you two were quarrelling. But that goes to show how wrong one can be.’ He turned to Flynn, his eyes cold as they centred on him. ‘I do hope you aren’t finding the evening too boring. Opera isn’t everyone’s taste, I know.’

  ‘Not at all. “Boring” isn’t the adjective which springs to mind when Natalie is around. I always find that being with her is a pleasure in itself.’

  Natalie bit back the hot retort, trying to remember that O’Rourke was only acting a part—very badly, granted, but just the role as he saw it.

  ‘Of course.’ Damian’s voice was icy, his eyes pebblehard as they lifted several inches to meet the green ones which were regarding him just as coolly. ‘But even Natalie’s charming company might not be enough if you aren’t a true aficionado.’

  ‘Perhaps not of this particular work...’ Flynn shrugged lightly.

  ‘I can understand that,’ Damian said pompously, looking smugly superior. ‘It isn’t the easiest work to follow, but rewarding nevertheless for those who appreciate such things.’

  Flynn took a sip of his tonic water then swirled the ice around his glass in a musical tinkle, an expression on his face which Natalie found hard to define but which immediately made her go tense. Behind that lazy, laid-back charm she caught a glimpse of something else...the real Flynn O’Rourke?...and something warned her that Damian was about to see it too.

  ‘As you undoubtedly do, Renshaw? Of course I found the production put on at La Scala last autumn more to my taste. But then one can never fault Caballe’s voice and the presence she brings to a role, don’t you think? Perhaps you were lucky enough to catch it?’ Flynn O’Rourke’s voice was just as low, just as easy as always, but Natalie winced at every word. Damian Renshaw considered himself a patron of the arts, and an expert in his chosen field of opera. He wouldn’t be pleased to be thrown such an indisputable challenge!

  Two bright spots of ugly colour glowed on his fleshy cheeks. ‘Unfortunately, no. It seems that you and I have more than just Natalie in common, O’Rourke, although I must say that she has been remarkably reticent about you. What sort of line are you in?’

  Flynn tipped his head back and drained the glass, then carefully set it down on a passing waiter’s tray. ‘Oh, this and that. You know how it is.’

  ‘Of course.’ Damian cast Natalie a faintly triumphant look, letting her know what he thought of a man who did ‘this and that’ to earn a living. ‘What exactly are you working on at present?’ he asked loftily.

  ‘Right now I’m hoping to take a holiday and do as little as possible—apart from seeing a lot of Natalie, that is,’ Flynn replied smoothly. He slid his arm around Natalie’s waist and drew her to his side, holding her so close that despite her stiffness she found herself moulded to the length of his lean body. ‘After that I’ll see what turns up’

  ‘I see.’ Damian’s good humour seemed somewhat restored as he patted Natalie’s hand. ‘Well, I must circulate. I’ll speak to you later. We’re all going on to supper at Annabel’s afterwards, if you would care to join us?’

  Natalie opened her mouth to make some sort of excuse, unable to face the thought of much more. Didn’t O’Rourke realise that he was antagonising Damian, and that that was the last thing she wanted at this delicate stage in negotiations? ‘I’m sor——’

  Flynn cut her off, his deeper tones drowning hers out. ‘I’m afraid Natalie and I have other plans for later, Renshaw.’ He dropped his gaze to her face, smiling into her eyes as be said softly, ‘Haven’t we, darling?’

  Natalie couldn’t help herself. She could feel the blush starting at the base of her throat, feel it creeping in a hot tide under her skin. It was the way Flynn O’Rourke was looking at her, his sea-green eyes smouldering, his mouth curved into the sexiest smile she’d ever seen. When he bent and brushed her mouth with the gentlest of kisses, she actually sighed before suddenly coming to her senses.

  She shook him off like a dog shaking off water after an unwanted dip, glad that Damian had moved away to speak to another guest. ‘Just what do you think you are playing at, O’Rourke?’ she gritted out from between tightly clenched teeth.

  Flynn shot a glance over his shoulder then steered Natalie behind one of the marble pillars, leaning an indolent shoulder against it as he stared quizzically at her with a faint lift of one elegant brow. ‘Convincing Renshaw that you and I are, as the Americans call it, an “item”. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? I distinctly recall you begging Marcus to—I quote—“do your best to convince Damian he’s wasting his time”. Now maybe I’ve got my motivation for the role slightly wrong but I thought I was doing one hell of a job just now.’

  ‘Let’s cut out the smart answers! You know very well that I was expecting Marcus to come tonight, not some... some interloper! Any instructions I left on that machine were meant for him, and him alone!’ She could feel her temper moving rapidly up the scale from merely hot to volcanic, and it shocked her. True, it hurt to know that Marcus bad gone away without telling her, but could that really explain how she was feeling now, this red-hot anger? So what if Flynn O’Rourke was the most infuriating man she’d ever met? Why didn’t she respond as she usually did with a persistent male and just treat him with cool indifference? Yet somehow it seemed impossible to apply those tactics to him!

  ‘Then all I can do is apologise. Perhaps I have been a shade too...enthusiastic, shall we say? But it was with the best of intentions, you understand, Natalie. I only wanted to help a lady in distress, and a close friend of Marcus’s at that.’

  This time Natalie didn’t repeat the mistake she’d made earlier. Before starting to berate herself for being ungrateful, she looked long and hard at O’Rourke, but she could see no signs this time of any cunning calculation. She sighed wearily, smoothing a heavy black wave behind her ear as she forced herself to smile. ‘Perhaps I do owe you an apology, Mr... Flynn,’ she amended quickly. ‘It was kind of you to come to try to help me out and I am sorry if I appear unappreciative of the trouble you’ve gone to.’

  ‘Don’t give it a second thought.’ Flynn raised his hand and smoothed a stray wisp of hair she’d missed behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than was strictly necessary, cool and hard against her warm flesh. Natalie shivered at the touch of his hand but before she could make any move to break the contact he did so. ‘As for it being any trouble...well, frankly, I wouldn’t have missed a moment of tonight for many reasons.’ His smile deepened as his gaze lingered on Natalie’s upturned face and she felt again that faint unease at the hint of speculation in the glittering green depths of his eyes, before he continued in a voice as smooth as silk, ‘Not least of which was the feeling I had that you would come to appreciate me eventually.’

  The unease faded, wiped out by those silky smooth words which had the impact of a bullet as they hit home. Natalie took a furious step back, realising that once again the wretched man had tricked her into feeling guilty!

  She swung round
on her heel just as the bell rang to warn people that the interval was nearly over, marching back to her seat without a backward glance to see if O’Rourke was following her. Yet when he did enter the box a few minutes later she couldn’t resist shooting him a wary look. She had always believed that there was a reason for everything that happened, but what reason could fate have had for sending Flynn O’Rourke into her life? And why did she have the strangest feeling that it hadn’t merely been some odd little hiccup in life’s otherwise smooth path? It was all highly unsettling.

  It was raining when they left the Opera House, the late April sky black as pitch. Natalie’s headache had reached gigantic proportions now, thundering like a demented percussionist. She pushed her way through the crowd on the steps, barely glancing at the line of gleaming limousines arriving to collect their wealthy owners. Somewhere among the line-up would be Damian’s Rolls but Natalie didn’t experience even a twinge of regret that she wouldn’t be going home in it. Frankly, the sooner this night was over the better!

  ‘If we’re entered in a race then you should have warned me. I’d have made certain I was on the starting-line beside you then.’

  Flynn O’Rourke’s coolly amused tones brought Natalie to a dead stop. She turned to glare at him, uncaring that rain was streaming down her face or that the silk suit which had cost the best part of a month’s salary would never look the same again after its soaking. She had said a curt goodbye to O’Rourke as soon as they had parted from the others, but perhaps she hadn’t made her meaning perfectly plain!

  ‘Goodnight, Mr O’Rourke,’ she said coldly. ‘I can’t say that it has been a pleasure meeting you but it has been an experience—one I shall try my hardest to forget!’

  She hurried on, trying her best to ignore the fact that O’Rourke was strolling alongside her. She wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t give him any encouragement. But it proved as impossible to ignore him now as it had been earlier.