Rendezvous With Revenge Page 3

  His sharply indrawn breath rasped down the line, followed by a few seconds of taut silence.

  'I've already offered you two thousand dollars,' he resumed at last, not a trace of sexiness left in his voice. It was as cold as an arctic blizzard. 'I would have thought that more than sufficed for the job.'

  'I'm sorry, but it doesn't.'

  'I see,' he grated out, with a derisive edge added to the chilly reproach. 'How much would be enough, then?' 'Three thousand.'

  "That's one thousand a day!'

  "That's my price, Dr Grant. Take it or leave it.'

  His laughter surprised then unnerved her. 'Oh, I'll take it, Miss Richmond, but only on one condition.'

  'And what condition is that?'

  'I don't have to change the room booking. Frankly, for reasons which I have no intention of explaining, I would prefer to pretend we were lovers, not just friends. Naturally I do not expect you to sleep in the same bed with me. I will make sure our room has a convertible sofa which will guarantee separate sleeping arrangements.'

  'And if I say no?'

  'Then you say no, and I'll make other arrangements.'

  Abby only had to think of Miss Blanchford's despairing depression to know that she would never say no. But she detested Ethan Grant for manoeuvring her into a corner like this.

  Still, there was no point in prolonging the agony. It would only add to her humiliation. Better to agree immediately, letting him think that she wasn't at all fazed by this change.

  'All right,' she said with a superbly blithe offhandedness. 'I appreciate that for three thousand you can call the shots. But I want it all up front and in advance, as you promised.'

  Once again, Ethan fell silent on the other end.

  Had she surprised him? Shocked him, even?

  Too bad. This was business—the business of healing an old lady's heart and giving her back a reason to live. She had no sympathy for Ethan Grant's feelings. Any man who offered money for a woman's company got what he deserved. Which was nothing.

  'I'll send you the money by courier tomorrow,' he said in a faintly sneering tone. Clearly she hadn't surprised him at all, Abby realised. She'd acted exactly as he expected women of her like to act—like a mercenary-minded bitch!

  'Cash, please,' she snapped, goaded into speaking sharply by a fierce inner fury. Couldn't he see that he was the more contemptuous person, for offering her money in the first place?

  'Naturally.'

  Abby scooped in then let out a shuddering sigh. It was done and couldn't be undone. God, but she wished that she didn't feel so low. Anyone would think that she'd just hired herself out body and soul for life, instead of just her companionship for three miserable days.

  'I suppose we should get down to details while we've got the opportunity,' he said abruptly. 'I don't want Sylvia to know anything. This is just between you and me. As far as my sister is concerned, I'll be going to this conference on my own. You must give me your word on that, Abby.'

  Abby was thrown for a moment by this second use of her first name. Till she accepted that he could hardly keep calling her Miss Richmond. She wasn't about to argue about Sylvia not knowing either. Really, the whole situation was a tad tawdry. And slightly mystifying.

  She wondered why Ethan was so keen to have his colleagues believe his companion was his lover. Did he have a reputation as a stud to uphold? Or did he have some other secret reason for such a pretence?

  Something—some feminine instinct—rang a warning bell at the back of her mind. There was more to this than met the eye...

  But Abby could not allow herself to be swayed by worries and qualms of such an indefinite nature. Three thousand dollars beckoned. Three thousand very real, very vital dollars. Ethan's motivation for such a sham was his business. All she had to do was collect the money then play the appropriate part.

  Maybe what she was really worrying about was how difficult playing that part might be. She hoped she wouldn't make a fool of herself and betray her own secret. Despite not liking Ethan Grant one little iota on a personality basis, she could not think about him any more without thinking of making love with him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  'FIRST things first,' Ethan continued abruptly. 'Your clothes.'

  'My clothes?' she repeated blankly, her mind still back on her perturbing weakness for the man.

  'You do own something other than that black skirt and white blouse you wear every Friday, don't you?'

  Abby thought of all the designer clothes hanging up in her wardrobe at home in KiUara. They wouldn't really have dated, being timeless classical styles. She didn't doubt they would still be there either. She would have no trouble getting them if she went during the day, when her father was at the office.

  'Actually, I have quite an extensive wardrobe,' she replied coolly, resenting both the criticism and scepticism built into his question.

  'Yes, but what type of clothes?' he countered derisively. 'You must appreciate any lady friend of mine will be expected to be well dressed. Nothing cheap or flashy.'

  'I am never cheap or flashy.'

  'You're certainly not cheap, I'll give you that,' he muttered drily. 'And other than one wayward button, you haven't been flashy either. So far,' he added cynically. 'But I wouldn't like any nasty little surprises once we get down to the hotel. Which reminds me—there's nothing in your past or present which would preclude you taking this job, is there?'

  One very good reason catapulted into Abby's mind and she gulped. Surely there wouldn't be anyone at this conference who knew about her trial or her sentence? It had not been in any of the papers. Her father hadn't been prepared to help her with a decent lawyer, but he had used his influence to suppress any publicity.

  'Such as what?' she asked, guilt making her sharp.

  'God only knows. You haven't graced the centrefold of any of the better known men's magazines, have you? Or any of the lesser ones, for that matter. I'm well aware that Sylvia hired you without checking into your background too extensively. I didn't come down in the last shower, Abby. When a girl's hard up for money and has a figure as good as yours, she might be talked into doing things not too savoury.'

  Any guilt disappeared as Abby almost blew a gasket. Not too savoury! What in hell did he think she was doing now, going away with him? Lord, who did he think he was, looking down his nose at her when he was the one paying for her dubious companionship? As for her figure... She was fed up with him equating her lush curves with loose morals.

  'I've never done a thing I'm ashamed of, Dr Grant,' she said with cold dignity. Till now, that is, she added silently. 'Believe me when I say I will do you proud as your .er. ..girlfriend. You won't have cause to complain.'

  'Mmm. That's to be seen, isn't it? By the way, can you play tennis at all?'

  'Yes, but I...'

  'You don't have to be proficient,' he cut in dismissively. 'Adequate will do. I suppose it's too much to ask if you can play golf as well?'

  His patronising tone made Abby seethe. She'd only been going to say that she didn't have a racket.

  If I ever get him on a tennis-court or a golf-course ... she vowed blackly. Thank you, Father, for all those holidays filled with never-ending lessons. You did do something for me after all.

  'Actually, I do play golf. A little,' she added, not wanting to give the enemy advance warning.

  'You've surprised me, Miss Richmond. I would have thought your talents lay elsewhere than on the sporting field.'

  Abby decided to ignore that remark. He would keep. 'I wish you'd make up your mind what you're going to call me,' she said waspishly. 'One minute it's Abby, and then we're back to Miss Richmond.'

  'You're quite right. But I don't feel altogether comfortable calling you Abby. Shall we compromise and make it Abigail?'

  'Whatever you wish. You're the boss. Just so long as I know where I stand and what to expect. Speaking of what to expect, I'm not going to get any nasty little surprises when we get to the hotel, am I?'

&nbs
p; The silence on the line was electric for a few seconds. Abby had no doubts now that Ethan had some hidden agenda at this conference, and it was beginning to niggle her.

  'Meaning?' he asked coldly.

  Meaning what are you up to, you conniving devil? she wanted to say. What is making you pay three thousand dollars to have me there as your pretend lover?

  'Meaning you wouldn't be the first man I've come across who was a wolf in gentleman's clothing,' she tossed back instead. 'I don't want to have to fight you off every night.'

  He laughed drily. 'How beautifully blunt you can be, Abigail. I rather admire it. Actually, I rather admire you.

  You are a girl of rare spirit and a quite tantalisingly enigmatic character. On top of that, you've never resorted to the manipulative ploys an attractive female in your position might be tempted to use. But, no.. .you don't have to worry about fighting me off. Rape has never appealed to me, and seducing you is not part of my plan.'

  'What plan?' Abby just had to say, not believing his back-handed compliments for one moment. He despised her for some reason, and had never bothered to hide that fact. Maybe he despised all females with a bust size over AA?

  'That, my dear Abigail,' he drawled, 'is none of your business.'

  And that, my dear Doctor, is an evasion.

  But she didn't say it. It really wasn't a wise course of action to persist, not if she wanted that three thousand dollars.

  'Fair enough, Doctor. You can keep your little secret.'

  'Ethan.'

  'What?'

  'Call me Ethan.'

  'Oh...oh, yes, I suppose I'll have to. I hope I'll remember.'

  'Have a practice right now, then. Say yes, Ethan. No, Ethan. Three bags full, Ethan.'

  'Don't be ridiculous.'

  'Say he bit out.

  Abby quivered deep inside at his darkly forceful tone.

  'Y-yes, Ethan,' she started hesitantly. Then, 'No, Ethan,' much more firmly, followed by, 'Three bags full, Ethan,' in a dry, challenging tone.

  'See?' he scorned. 'You didn't have any trouble at all. Though perhaps you could practise putting a little more warmth into my name between now and Friday. Say it the way you just did in the presence of others and they'll think you want to kill me, not kiss me.'

  Well, they'd be wrong, she thought ruefully. She wanted to do both. Kill him and kiss him. Damn, but she was actually enjoying sparring with him this way. It had a decidedly sexual edge to it. Abby was hotly aware that her pulse had started racing and that her cheeks were quite flushed with an unbidden excitement. Thank the Lord they were on the phone and he couldn't see her.

  'I'll see what I can do,' she said, surprised by her cool tone. Heavens, she was a much better actress than she'd realised. Who knew? Maybe she might just be able to pull this fiasco off without getting her fingers burnt. If she started getting too hot and bothered over the sexy surgeon, she would simply remember Dillon. Thinking of that bastard always had a chilling effect. If that failed, she would concentrate on a simple survival. Now that she'd lost her weekend job, she needed her Friday job more than ever.

  'Tell me the agenda for Friday,' she said in a businesslike tone. 'What do you want me to do?'

  'We're supposed to arrive at Bungarla some time between three and five. I'm still operating on the Friday morning, and I do have a patient who's travelling down from the country to see me that day as well. I told her to meet me at my rooms at one.'

  'Do you want me to come in as usual, then?'

  'No. That's not necessary. Be at the surgery by one- thirty. I should be finished by then. I'm told the trip down to Bungarla shouldn't take any more than two hours.'

  'What do you think I should wear for the trip down?'

  'Something casual, but smart. It'll be pretty cool down that way of an evening in the autumn, so pop in a jacket as well. And don't forget to pack suitable clothes for tennis and golf. Oh, and throw in a swimsuit. According to the brochure they sent, there's a heated pool.'

  'Yes, boss.'

  'Don't be cheeky.'

  She'd be more than cheeky if she went swimming wearing the bikini Dillon had picked out for her five years ago. Abby had gone up a size since then, especially in her bust. It must have been all that lovely fatty prison food. Or the free doughnuts and cappuccinos she'd been stuffing herself with every weekend at the cafe, so that she didn't have to spend so much money on food.

  She would literally have to starve herself between now and Friday if she wanted her old clothes to fit her properly, but at least she'd already made a good start. She hadn't eaten a darned thing all day!

  'Abigail?'

  'Yes?'

  'Oh, nothing. Is there anything else you want to ask?'

  'Do you have my address to send the money to tomorrow?'

  His sigh sounded irritable. 'I'm glad you've still got your priorities right. Yes, I have your address. You'll have the money, in cash, by three at the latest. Is that satisfactory?'

  'Quite.'

  'And I'll expect my money's worth in return.'

  'You'll get what you paid for. And nothing more.'

  'I'm glad to hear that, Abigail,' he drawled. 'Because u that's exactly what I am paying for. Nothing more. No complications and no consequences. See you Friday. And don't be late!' he snapped, then hung up.

  Abby glared down into the dead receiver, her heart thudding angrily. At least, she hoped that it was with A anger. Friday seemed a long way off, but it would come round all too quickly, she feared.

  It did, dawning cool and sunny, a beautiful autumn day. The week, which usually dragged when she spent it searching fruitlessly for a full-time job, had simply flown. Any spare minute had been taken up with alterations to her clothes. Hems had been taken up or down, and seams let out where possible.

  'Tell me again the name of the place you're off to, dear?' Miss Blanchford asked as she watched Abby packing the freshly washed and pressed garments.

  'Bungarla,' she replied, smiling as the old lady manoeuvred the chair closer with a small movement of the joy-stick-style steering. In just two short days she'd become a real expert, whizzing up and down the hallway and rarely bumping into anyone any more. Seeing her so happy made the sacrifice of the coming weekend worthwhile. 'It's a private hotel just outside of Bowral,'

  'And what exactly is it you have to do there?'

  Abby swallowed. 'Just secretarial work. Dr Grant wants me to take notes on all the lectures he'll be attending.' No way could she tell the old darling the truth. She would simply die, then demand that Abby give Ethan back the money and not go. Which would be a little difficult when it was already in the wheelchair company's bank account.

  'And you need all these lovely clothes just for that?' came her frowning enquiry.

  Abby tried not to look guilty. She laughed, and hoped that it didn't sound too^alse. 'No, of course not. There will be some socialising in the evenings. You wouldn't want me to look dowdy in front of all those high-flying doctors and their wives, would you?'

  'You could never look dowdy, Abby.' Sharp grey eyes latched on to the heightened colour gathering in Abby's cheeks. 'This is all on the up and up, dear, isn't it? I mean... this boss of yours... he's not the type to expect you to be anything more than his secretary, is he?'

  'Good heavens, no! Dr Grant's not like that at all.'

  'I thought you told me he was very handsome. And quite young.'

  'Well, yes, he is.'

  'In that case he's like that, believe me, dear. I've been around long enough to know that all handsome young men are like that. Unless he's queer, of course. He's not queer, is he?'

  'No,' Abby choked out. 'No, I'm sure he's not. But there's no need for you to worry. He doesn't fancy me at all. Certainly not in that way.' Which was just as well, given her unbidden excitement over the coming weekend.

  'What makes you say that? Why wouldn't he fancy you? You're a very fanciable girl. And you're going to look stunning in that dress you have there.'

  Abby stared d
own at the coffee-coloured lace gown that she was carefully folding into the case. 'I might not wear this one. It's a little tight.'

  Actually, most of the clothes she'd collected from home last Monday had been a little tight to begin with. She'd been largely able to correct this problem by letting out seams, but that had been impossible with the lace dress—all the seams being overlocked, with not a centimetre left to spare. She was only bringing the dress because she thought she might fit into it by the last evening—if she swam up and down the pool Ethan had mentioned for a hundred or so laps every day. The colour did look well on her, and it was a dress she'd always felt good in. _ Good!

  Her conscience pricked and Abby had to admit that that particular dress had never exactly made her feel good. Sexy was closer to the mark. On the one occasion she'd worn it for Dillon he hadn't been able to wait to tear it off her at the end of the night.

  She wondered what Ethan would say if and when he saw her in that particular dress, with her hair done up, full make-up on and her diamond and pearl choker around her throat. Seducing her might not be part of his original plan, but it might just come into his mind.. .if she put it there.

  'Abby...'

  Abby started, then glanced up from her suitcase, aware that her pulse was racing uncomfortably. What wicked thoughts that man put into her mind! 'Yes?' she said a little shakily.

  'You're not in love with Dr Grant, are you?' Miss Blanchford asked worriedly.

  'Lord, no!' Maybe a little in lust, she conceded with considerable understatement. But not in love. No way. The very idea was appalling!

  'Telephone for you, Abby!' someone called along the hallway. 'Hop to it. Chap says he's only got a minute.'

  Abby couldn't think who it could possibly be. No one , ever rang her here. She didn't think she'd ever given the number to anyone. Her only friends since getting out of prison were Miss Blanchford and the other boarders. She was hurrying along to where the 'in only' telephone sat on a solid table near the front door when she realised that she'd given Sylvia this number, which meant / that Ethan would know it as well.