Page 102 of Tuxedos and Tinsel

‘By the way, I’m apologising in advance for my car.’

He frowned. ‘Why apologise?’

‘I glimpsed your awesome sports car in the garage as I came in yesterday. You might find my hand-me-down hatchback a bit of a comedown.’

He frowned. ‘I didn’t come into this world behind the wheel of an expensive European sports car. I’m sure your hatchback will be perfectly fine.’

Just how did she see him?His public image—Scrooge, miser, rich guy—was so at odds with the person he knew himself to be. That he wanted her to know. But he could not reveal himself to her without uncovering secrets he would rather leave buried deep in his past.

CHAPTER FIVE

DOMINICHADFACEDdown some fears in his time. But the prospect of being paraded before Andie’s large family ranked as one of the most fearsome. As Andie pulled up her hatchback—old but in good condition and nothing to be ashamed of—in front of her parents’ home in the northern suburb of Willoughby, sweat prickled on his forehead and his hands felt clammy. How the hell had he got himself into this?

She turned off the engine, took out the keys, unclipped her seat belt and smoothed down the legs of her sleek, very sexy leather trousers. But she made no effort to get out of the car. She turned her head towards him. ‘Before we go inside to meet my family I... I need to tell you something first. Something...something about me.’

Why did she look so serious, sombre even? ‘Sure, fire away,’ he said.

‘I’ve told them you’re a client. That there is absolutely nothing personal between us.’

‘Of course,’ he said.

Strange how at the same time he could be relieved and yet offended by her categorical denial that there ever could be anythingpersonalbetween them.

Now a hint of a smile crept to the corners of her mouth. ‘The thing is...they won’t believe me. You’re good-looking, you’re smart and you’re personable.’

‘That’s nice of you to say that,’ he said. He noticed she hadn’t added that he was rich to his list of attributes.

‘You know it’s true,’ she said. ‘My family are determined I should have a man in my life and have become the most inveterate of matchmakers. I expect they’ll pounce on you. It could get embarrassing.’

‘You’re single?’ He welcomed the excuse to ask.

‘Yes. I... I’ve been single for a long time. Oh, I date. But I haven’t found anyone special since...since...’ She twisted right around in the car seat to fully face him. She clasped her hands together on her lap, then started to twist them without seeming to realise she was doing it. ‘You need to know this before we go inside.’ The hint of a smile had completely dissipated.

‘If you think so,’ he said. She was twenty-eight and single. What was the big deal here?

‘I met Anthony on my first day of university. We were inseparable from the word go. There was no doubt we would spend our lives together.’

Dominic braced himself for the story of a nasty break-up. Infidelity? Betrayal? A jerk in disguise as a nice guy? He was prepared to make polite noises in response. He knew all about betrayal. But aquid pro quoexchange over relationships gone wrong was not something he ever wanted to waste time on with Andie or anyone else.

‘It ended?’ he said, making a terse contribution only because it was expected.

‘He died.’

Two words stated so baldly but with such a wealth of pain behind them. Dominic felt as if he’d been punched in the chest. Nothing he said could be an adequate response. ‘Andie, I’m sorry,’ was all he could manage.

‘It was five years ago. He was twenty-three. He...he went out for an early-morning surf and didn’t come back.’ He could hear the effort it took for her to keep her tone even.

He knew about people who didn’t come back. Goodbyes left unsaid. Personal tragedy. That particular kind of pain. ‘Did he...? Did you—?’

‘He...he washed up two days later.’ She closed her eyes as if against an unbearable image.

‘What happened?’ He didn’t want her to think he was interrogating her on something so sensitive, but he wanted to find out.

‘Head injury. An accident. The doctors couldn’t be sure exactly how it happened. A rock? His board? A sandbank? We’ll never know.’

‘Thank you for telling me.’ He felt unable to say anything else.

‘Better for you to know than not to know when you’re about to meet the family. Just in case someone says something that might put you on the spot.’