Christmas Belles (Gillies Ridge)

Chapter 4

R ICHARD, together with his parents, stood in front of them as the elevator doors opened.

Rika lifted her chin and stepped forward.

Be professional. She could do this. Courteous. Got it. Civil.

She didn’t even have her lippie on.

Her gaze slid over the Buchanan trio, refusing to let it settle on the man who had played hostage to her dreams throughout the night, their single kiss on half-speed replay in her mind all through the torturous sheet-tangled fantasy.

And he had the audacity to be standing in front of her elevator, looking...too damn debonair in a morning suit of charcoal grey to match his eyes, sporting a velvet bowtie of the same colour.

“Good morning, Richard.” Her traitorous body responded to the question in his eyes.

She’d forgotten T-shirts hid no secrets. Erect nipples? For crying out loud, she was the wrong side of fifty. The last time she had to worry about putting Band-Aids over her nips was when she was a teenager.

But the sight of Richard in a bowtie at ten o’clock in the morning was more than her libido could handle apparently.

Damn the sexy bastard to hell.

One look into the dark swirls of his grey-black eyes and she had blushed like a teenager. One look and she was back where she'd been thirty years ago.

His expression softened and her heart gave a tiny flutter. Not now , she ordered silently and forced her attention to the pair at his side.

Her gaze rested for a moment on the woman she had hoped she’d never set eyes on again.

Gaynor Buchanan stood beside her son watching their exchange with narrow eyed interest. Rika knew from experience that the woman missed nothing.

And her daughters bore witness to her mortification, their faces showing various degrees of alarm.

“Mrs Buchanan. Hubs.”

Civilities complete, she made a bolt for the hotel’s entrance. She swept out of the hotel and turned right.

She could have been going anywhere.

Her purpose was single fold.

To get the hell out of there.

Fast.

Richard called her name, making her walk faster. There was no way she was going back to greet the Buchanans like long lost acquaintances.

And no way was she introducing her daughters. The Buchanans were tarnished. She didn't want her daughters anywhere near them, Richard Buchanan and his come to bed eyes be damned.

She’d deal with her recalcitrant body later. Right now, she needed coffee. Lots of it.

“Mum,” Pom yelled after her. “Wait up. We’re going in the wrong direction.”

Rika didn't care what direction they were going in as long as it was away. From Gaynor Buchanan and her judgmental gaze.

“I thought of a new place,” she said shortly. “Follow me.”

She kept walking and was halfway across the bridge between the city and Southbank before her daughters caught up with her.

“Wow, Mum,” Ali was the first to speak. “I take it you didn't want to introduce us.”

“What gave you that idea?” Grace was close behind. “Our mother taking on all speed records. Or the death glares that woman issued at Mum’s retreating back? You should have hung around, Mum. Pom’s put down was classic.”

“I was rather proud of myself.” Pom came to halt beside her mother and leant on the bridge’s railing beside her sisters. “All those elocution lessons you paid for me came in handy. I pretended she was the snooty judge.”

“You told her to make an appointment.” Ali chuckled. “With Mama’s secretary.”

“You should have seen her face, Mum,” Grace took up the story. “The old bitch was clearly not used to taking orders. Your handsome hero took your side and told his parents to head along to breakfast without him. Then he chased after you.”

Rika forced her voice to lightness. “My handsome hero? Darling, I’m immune to handsome heroes. I'm also immune to Gaynor’s particular brand of civility but thank you for reminding her that the Belles can't be pushed around. How about we forget the unpleasantness and get on with our Sunday.”

“I don't think Southbank has any dive bars,” Pom said. “But there are a couple of nice waterfront bistros that do brunch.”

“No,” Rika said. She would not go near anyplace the Buchanan's had any chance of turning up at. “I'm dressed for dive and a dive it will be.”

“I know a place,” Grace said. “More speakeasy than dive. The cocktails are hot.” She shot a glance at her sisters. “And the mixologist even hotter.”

“I’m in.” Pom picked up the pace.

Ali turned to follow her sister. “Me, too.”

“Lead the way, my darlings.” Rika tipped her fedora to one side. “I'm suddenly desirous of that Gin Sling you promised me.”

Grace didn’t move. “Don't look now, Mumsie, but I think we’re being followed.”

The tingling on the back of Rika’s neck told her the enemy had arrived while she was still making battle plans.

She felt Grace’s hands cover hers. “We've got this, Mum,” she murmured. “We’ll each take an arm and leg and toss him in the river.”

“Or we’ll hip bump him into an oncoming bus.” Pom turned and followed Grace’s gaze.

Rika sighed. “Something tells me he’d survive both. The Richard Buchanan I knew always went after what he wanted.”

“Or whoever he wanted,” Pom said dryly.

“Nothing stands in the way of true love.” Ali glanced over Rika’s shoulder as the bowtied hero of their story closed in on them. “You know those new joggers we put on your feet this morning? How about we try them out?”

Rika was tempted. Running was what she did best with him after all. But she refused to let the man and his tenacity spoil their day.

“Mama, we stand and fight or we turn and run.” Pom summed up their options. “What will it be?”

“Fight,” Grace said.

“Run,” Rika said at the same time.

“Too late,” Ali warned.

“Rika, we need to talk.”

Rika felt the girls circle around her. It was tempting to stay where she was and let her daughters take care of the pesky bowtied man who refused to read the room and leave her the hell alone.

Or worse, he’d read the room and knew she was as hot for him now as she’d been all those years ago.

But she was made of sterner stuff, wasn’t she?

The matriarch of their family mob.

And mobsters didn’t run.

Nor did matriarchs.

She crossed her arms over her chest to hide the telltale reaction of her breasts. Taut nipples were definitely not matriarchal. Nor was the wetness between her thighs as Richard bore down on them, his intent clear in the glint of his storm-grey eyes as he zeroed in on her.

He knew, damn it.

Knew that she was as panting hot for the man with silver at his temples as she’d been for the sexy-as-sin teenager he’d been way back then.

And she was hiding behind her daughters. Like she needed protecting. Instead of a mature woman in tune with her feelings.

Make those lustful feelings. Towards a man who made no secret he felt the same.

But no meant no. And last night she’d said no. It was time to put a stop to him gatecrashing her life.

“Girls, would you give us a minute, please?” She nodded towards the end of the bridge.

The girls hesitated, looking at each other, then back at her.

“Sure,” Grace said finally. “ If you're sure?”

Rika risked a glance at the man who leaned casually against the railing of the bridge, his shoulder brushing against hers as he waited, his sunglasses hiding his expression.

But nothing could hide the frisson of awareness between them.

So much for the slow burn from the night before. Today they’d shot straight to inferno.

She resisted the urge to pull away. “As sure as I am about anything with a man who wears a bowtie to breakfast,” she said lightly.

“I'd stay and watch the fun,” Pom said. “Except I'm hungry and thirsty, and all this sexual tension in the air is too much so early in the morning. Sisters, lead me away.”

Rika found herself alone with the man whose lean body pressed against her side.

Handsome she could deal with.

It was the physical powder keg between them that was a problem. Understatement, Rika. If the heat between them got any hotter they’d fry the bridge and end up a sizzling mess giving off steam in the Brisbane River.

Pom was right. She was still hot for the man who had taken her virginity as carelessly as he’d taken her heart.

And now he stood beside her. Waiting. As sure of himself—and her—as he’d ever been. She’d loved that about him when they were young and in love.

But they were no longer young. And Rika had given up on love a long time ago. It was time he understood that he had no rights.

To her time. Her family. Or her body.

She needed to set the boundaries she should have set last night. “What do you want, Richard?”

He turned so that he was facing her. “You.”

“You can't have me.”

“You look even more beautiful in the daylight.”

“Don't be foolish. I haven't even got any make-up on.”

“You really don't get it do you?” He turned and looked along the river with its bustling city on either side.

“What don’t I get?”

“We have unfinished business.”

“Our business was finished long time ago.”

“I apologise for my mother’s rudeness. And Hubs sends his apologies, too.”

Rika had always liked Gaynor's husband. Hubs was the kind of man who was always fair. Richard got his charm from his father, his incisive brain from his mother, and his wealth from both.

It was a pity the Buchanan men had allowed Gaynor to rule over them like she had. And decide on Richard’s future bride.

Don’t go there, she ordered herself sternly. The past is the past. But if Richard thought Rika was going anywhere near the Buchanans ever again it was time to disabuse him of the idea.

“I think you're a very charming man who is used to getting your way,” she said slowly. “But I'm no longer a starry-eyed teenager. We’re too different, Richard. And it's not just our family backgrounds.”

“I disagree.”

Rika shrugged. “Let me prove it to you. Come with us today. We’re having a girls’ day out. You can see for yourself whether you fit.”

The Richard of her past would have laughed down at her and kissed her nose. “Challenge accepted,” he would say.

But this new Richard merely nodded.

“I think you're right. I've been going about this the wrong way. I regretted not fighting for you the first time round. This time we’ll play your way. Where are we going?”

Rika smiled. “A local dive bar.”

“That explains your attire. You look good in jeans, by the way. Always did.”

“It was all I could afford when you knew me. Secondhand jeans and homemade T-shirts. I'd forgotten how comfortable they were.”

“I've never forgotten how beautiful you were. You haven’t changed.”

Rika swallowed. “We need some ground rules if today is going to work. And rule number one is no more compliments. We’re old friends catching up after many years. Nothing more.”

She felt his gaze slide down her body. “If that's what you want to tell yourself, Freddy. Old friends catching up it is.” He took her hand in his. “Let's go call off your watchdogs and eat. I'm starved.”

Rita chuckled. She could feel her daughters’ glares from halfway across the bridge. Richard was right.

It was time to call a truce. To get the man out of her system once for all. And ease the tension with her daughters.

Old friends catching up . Who was she kidding?

“In the spirit of Christmas let's go forth and eat.” If she liked the feeling of her hand in his, she wasn’t admitting it. “I have one other request.”

“Don't tell me. I'm not allowed to pay.”

“On the contrary you can pay for whatever you want,” she said. “We Belles are big on equality. And your money is as good as ours. I think you should lose the bowtie.”

“A tad overdressed, huh?”

“A tad. Where we're going, they’ll think the place is being raided if you turn up dressed like that.”

“Point taken. Consider it gone.”

Rika swallowed as he dropped her hand and worked the bowtie loose from the collar of his dress shirt.

He undid the top two buttons of his shirt and started on the third.

She saw tanned skin and the pale blond hair of his chest before she realised she was staring.

“More?”

She slapped his hand away. “It’s a family day out. I suggest you stay buttoned.”

“Pity. I like the way you look at me when I’m getting naked.” He deftly caught her fingers and entwined them once more with his.

“I wasn’t picturing you naked. I was picturing you away.” Far away.

“Liar. You were wondering if running your fingers through the hairs on my chest would still turn me on. The answer is yes. All those other things we used to do together would feel good, too. Tell me you didn’t spend the night awake thinking about the same things I did? I’ll walk away now. Back across the bridge and out of your life. Leaving us both wondering.”

Rika swallowed. Is that what she wanted?

Her hesitation gave him the answer he needed. “The best things are worth waiting for,” he said softly. “But thirty years is long enough, Freddy. I’ll give you the day you want but at the end of it, if this thing is still between us, you need to give me the night.”

“I don’t need to give you anything. But I agree with you. Today is about old friends catching up. If there’s anything left between us at the end of it, I’ll do any undressing that needs doing.” She offered him a smile through half-closed eyes. “I seem to remember you liked it when I undressed you.”

“So, you were thinking about us last night. Do you remember what came after you undressed me?”

“Ladies first was always your rule.” She met and held his gaze. “I liked that about you. But, as you said, it’s been a lot of years, and I’ve learned that calling the shots has its own rewards.”

He pulled her against him, touching his forehead to hers. “I’ll give you today but make no mistake, tonight we finish what we started before you ran away.”

She felt his lips brush her hair, his words hanging like a promise hanging between them. “I had my reasons,” she said softly, wondering if he was right.

Could they find closure after all these years?

Or was she opening herself up to the shattering pain of finding herself alone all over again?