‘We can keep her here for you.’
‘Great! I’ll pick her up on my way home.’
‘Do you know how to get here?’
‘I looked up the address. Same road as the Matcham Pony Club.’
‘Yes. So…we’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Nine o’clock sharp,’ he said, and ended the call.
Serena’s heart sank. It had been all business, nothing personal. Apart from the mention of the salad bowl, what had happened between them last night might not have been. Indeed, delivering the bowl back to her himself, and the arrangements he’d made for Cleo, kept her away from the Gifford house and any material reminder of the intimacy they had shared.
Was this the first step to establishing a distance which wouldn’t be crossed again? Having won the jackpot, with bonus points, had Nic Moretti decided not to risk getting more deeply involved with a woman who was never going to be a suitable match for him?
A one-night stand could be brushed off.
An ongoing relationship might result in a nasty comeback further down the trail if any expectations were inadvertently raised. Men with big money could become targets of avaricious women who’d be only too happy to sell a juicy story on them.
Serena almost made herself sick with these fevered imaginings. She didn’t confide them to Michelle because she knew they sounded neurotic, and probably were. If Lyall hadn’t come today, stirring all those snobby issues up again, she’d probably be taking Nic’s arrangements about tomorrow at face value.
By the time she went to bed, a resolution had firmed not to cross bridges until she came to them. Whatever Nic had decided about their relationship was beyond her control, and if there was still a choice for her to make about continuing their relationship, it was better made when she could assess his response to her in person.
Michelle had a valid point. There was a lot to be said for trusting one’s instincts.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE next morning Serena worked hard at maintaining a calm, natural manner as she went about her chores. She had just taken early delivery of a poodle at the salon and was seeing the client out of the reception lobby when a fabulous red Ferrari arrived in the parking area.
It was five minutes to nine.
Serena could hardly believe her eyes when Nic Moretti stepped out of it, followed by Cleo on her leash. He’d driven a four-wheel-drive Cherokee to the pony club on Saturday. She wasn’t prepared for this in-your-face evidence of huge personal wealth, even though she knew it was in his background.
Many people could afford a Cherokee, but a Ferrari…it left a Porsche a long way in the shade, costing more than half a million Australian dollars she recollected from a motor show Lyall had taken her to. The famous Italian sports car shouted class, style and performance, and it emphatically underlined the social gap between Serena and Nic Moretti.
The fire was right in front of her now, blazing into her eyes, and it would have to be self-destructive perversity not to step back from it.
She saw Nic pluck the salad bowl from the jump-seat and forced her legs into action. She didn’t want him bringing the bowl to the salon where it would be a constant reminder of her weakness for this man. Better to meet him on the path and take the bowl to the house, putting it away, just as any further personal connection to Nic Moretti had to be put away. It was simply too foolish to entertain any hope at all that there could be any real place for her in his world.
He saw her coming and waited by his car, his smile and eyes radiating a warm pleasure in her that totally scattered Serena’s wits again. Why did he have to be so attractive? Why, why, why? she silently railed, unable to stop her heart from racing and every nerve in her body buzzing in conflict with what common sense dictated.
‘Hi!’ he said, his eyes twinkling an invitation to resume the intimacy that had been so abruptly put on hold yesterday. He nodded to the departing car of the poodle owner. ‘I see you’re busy already.’
‘Yes. What happened to the Cherokee?’ she asked, wondering if he’d deliberately deceived her with it on Saturday, playing down the huge difference between them.
He shrugged. ‘It belongs to Ward. He asked me to take it for a spin now and then. Stop the battery going flat.’
She gestured to the Ferrari. ‘This is yours?’
‘Yes.’ He frowned, picking up on her guarded expression. ‘I guess you haven’t seen me driving it before.’
‘No, I haven’t.’
His gaze locked on hers with forceful purpose. ‘It doesn’t change anything, Serena. I’m still the same man you were with on Saturday.’
The challenge sent a quiver right through Serena but she stood her ground, managing an ironic little smile. ‘It does show I don’t know you very well, Nic.’
‘A situation I’ll be only too happy to correct if you’re free this evening.’
Her stomach cramped as his sexual magnetism came at her full-force. Her mind whirled with the knowledge that he wasn’t finished with her. He wanted more. And so did she. So did she. Yet if she succumbed to this attraction again, got in deeper, it would be all the more painful when it did end, as it inevitably would.
‘No, I can’t,’ she blurted out. ‘Be free, I mean. I have family commitments here. Especially during the week. Michelle and Erin…’ She paused for breath, shaking her head at the excuses pouring from her mouth when all she had to do was say no and stick to it.
‘Fair enough,’ Nic replied. ‘Disappointing, but fair enough. Can I pass my family commitment to you here?’ he went on, holding out Cleo’s leash.
She took it, and the bowl he handed to her.
‘Haven’t got time to talk now,’ he said with a rueful smile. ‘I’ll see you when I return this afternoon.’
She nodded, not trusting what might come out of her mouth if she spoke. He took off in his Ferrari—magnificent man, magnificent car—leaving Serena torn between the desire to take what she could of him and the certainty she’d be heading for miserable humiliation if she did.
A little Peugeot hatchback could never match a Ferrari. The two were worlds apart. The invitation to join him this evening had to be aimed at more sex and Serena fiercely told herself she’d done right to put him off. She hoped Nic had got the message that she was not a readily available bed partner.
The day was busy. At four o’clock, Nic still hadn’t returned to collect Cleo and Serena took off in the van to return the Maltese terrier, Muffy, to her owner at Erina, an elderly lady whose arthritis made any activity difficult. Today she was in considerable pain with her hip and asked Serena to feed the dog for her as bending over hurt too much.