Say it with Diamonds...this Christmas (Mills & Boon M&B) (Mills & Boon Special Releases) Read online

  ‘It’s highly possible, by the sounds of things. But what I was actually thinking was that you need someone by your side at this Christmas lunch. A boyfriend of your own.’

  ‘Huh! I’ve brought boyfriends to Christmas lunch before,’ Sarah informed Derek drily. ‘In no time, Nick makes them look like fools, or fortune-hunters.’

  ‘And maybe they were. But possibly they were too young, and totally overawed by the occasion. What you need is someone older, someone with looks and style, someone successful and sophisticated who won’t be fazed by anything your playboy guardian says and does. Someone, in short, who’s going to make the object of your desire sit up and take notice. Of you.’

  ‘I like the idea, Derek. In theory. But even with my improved looks, I don’t think I’m going to be able to snaffle up the type of boyfriend you’ve just described at this late stage. Christmas is two days away.’

  ‘In that case let me help you out. Because I know just such an individual who doesn’t have anywhere to go on Christmas Day and would be happy to come to your aid.’

  ‘You do? Who?’

  ‘You’re looking at him.’

  Sarah blinked, then laughed. ‘You have to be kidding. How can you be my boyfriend, Derek? You’re gay!’

  ‘You didn’t know that till I told you,’ he reminded her. ‘Your Nick won’t know it, either, especially if I’m introduced as your boyfriend. People believe what they’re told, on the whole.’

  Sarah stared at Derek. He was right. Why would Nick—or anyone else at lunch—suspect that Derek was gay? He didn’t look it. Or act it.

  ‘So what do you think?’ Derek said with a wicked gleam in his eyes. ‘Trust me when I say that nothing stimulates a man’s interest in a woman as well as another man’s undivided attention in her.’

  Sarah still hesitated.

  ‘What are you afraid of?’ Derek demanded to know. ‘Success?’

  ‘Absolutely not!’

  ‘Then what have you got to lose?’

  Nothing at all, Sarah realised with a sudden rush of adrenalin. At the very least she would not feel alone, as she often did at Christmas, especially during that dreaded lunch.

  This year she would not only be looking her best, but she would also have a very good-looking man by her side.

  ‘All right,’ Sarah said, a quiver of unexpected excitement rippling down her spine. ‘You’re on.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  SARAH’S positive attitude towards Christmas lasted till she pulled her white car into the driveway the following morning and saw Nick’s bright red sporty number parked outside the garages.

  ‘Darn it,’ she muttered as she pressed the remote to open the electronic gates.

  She’d presumed Nick would be out playing golf, as he always did every Saturday, come rain, hail or shine. Come Christmas Eve as well!

  If she’d imagined for one moment that Nick would be home, she’d have put on one of her sexy new sun-dresses this morning—probably the black and white halter-necked one that showed off her slender shoulders and nicely toned arms. Instead, she was sporting a pair of faded jeans and a striped yellow tank-top. Suitable clothes in which to decorate a Christmas tree. But not to impress a man, especially one who had a penchant for women who always looked as if they’d just stepped out of a beauty salon.

  Still, with a bit of luck, she might be able to sneak up to her bedroom and make some changes before running into Nick. The house was, after all, huge.

  Built in the 1920s by a wealthy mining family, Goldmine had been renovated and revamped many times since then. Its original stone walls were now cement-rendered white, with arched windows and lots of balconies, which gave it a distinctly Mediterranean look.

  Because of the sloping site, the house looked double-storeyed from the road, but there was another, lower level at the back where the architecture incorporated a lot of glass to take advantage of the home’s harbourside position.

  Actually, there weren’t many rooms in the house that didn’t look out over Sydney Harbour, the view extending across the water to the bridge and the opera house in the distance. On the upper floor, all the bedrooms had individual balconies with water views, the master bedroom opening out onto a walled balcony that was big enough to accommodate an outdoor table-setting.

  The enormous back terrace had the best vantage point, however, which was why it was always the place for Christmas lunch. Long trestle-style tables would be brought in, shade provided by huge canvas blinds put up for the day. Only once in Sarah’s memory, when the temperature soared to forty degrees, had the lunch been held inside, in the family room, the only room large enough to accommodate the number of guests who swamped Goldmine every Christmas Day from midday onwards.

  The tradition had been started by Sarah’s father and mother soon after they’d bought the house nearly thirty years ago, a tradition her father continued after her mother’s death, and which Nick seemed happy to honour in the years he’d been living there.

  Of course, the cynic in Sarah appreciated that Christmas lunch at Goldmine was more of a business lunch these days than a gathering of family and long-term friends. Most of the guests at the table would be the people Nick did business with, valuable contacts whose priorities were where the next few million were coming from.

  Sarah was under no illusion that Nick was any different from the types he mixed with. He liked money as much—possibly more—than they did.

  This last thought reminded Sarah of what Derek had implied over drinks last night: that Nick was taking advantage of his position as her guardian to live, rent-free, in her harbourside home. Although she’d defended Nick in this regard, Sarah had to concede that living in Goldmine was a huge social advantage. Not so much because of its size—some of the neighbours’ homes were obscenely large—but because of its position. There was no doubt that having such an address had benefited Nick no end in the business stakes. Which was why he wanted to buy the place.

  The gates finally open, Sarah drove through and parked next to Nick’s car. She frowned over at it, still perplexed that he hadn’t gone to golf today.

  Thinking about golf, however, reminded her of the Christmas present she’d bought him. It was a set of miniature golf clubs, with the club heads made in silver, the shafts in ebony and the bag crafted in the most beautiful red leather. She’d bought it on eBay and it had cost several hundred dollars, more than she usually spent on him.

  The moment she’d seen it, she’d known Nick would like it.

  But would he think it odd that she’d bought him something so expensive?

  She hoped not.

  Sarah grimaced when she realised he might think it even odder that she hadn’t bought her new ‘boyfriend’ anything at all. Which she hadn’t. She and Derek had discussed when he was to arrive tomorrow and what to wear, but they hadn’t thought of presents.

  Sarah sighed, her confidence about this subterfuge beginning to drop.

  Not that it mattered all that much. She couldn’t seriously expect to achieve the miracle of having Nick suddenly look at her and be carried away on a wave of uncontrollable desire. Why should that happen now, after all these years? It wasn’t as though she hadn’t dolled herself up for him before. She had. With absolutely no results at all.

  The truth was she obviously wasn’t his type. Even with her normally lush curves pared down to the bone, she’d never look or act like the kind of girlfriend Nick inevitably chose and obviously preferred: not only super-slim, but also super-chic and super-sophisticated.

  A kindergarten teacher just didn’t cut it with Nick, even with a future fortune attached. If anything, that she was her father’s heiress was probably a turn-off for him. Nick would not like any reminders that he wasn’t entirely a self-made man. Or the fact that she’d known him when he was a nobody.

  With every new girlfriend, Nick came with a clean slate.

  Sarah had no doubt he hadn’t told this latest girl, Chloe, that he’d ever been in jail. Or that his ward’s fa
ther had been a very generous benefactor. She felt sure Nick always represented her father these days as a long-term friend, thereby explaining his guardianship of her.

  Sarah accepted these brutally honest thoughts with a mixture of emotions. There was disappointment, yes. But also a measure of relief. Because it made her realise that to harbour hopes of attracting Nick this Christmas was a case of desperation and delusion. It wasn’t going to happen.

  Whilst this realisation brought a pang of emotional pain—no one liked to have their longest and fondest dream dashed—the acceptance of reality also began to unravel the tight knots in her stomach. What she was wearing today no longer mattered. She could relax now and act naturally with Nick, which she would not have done with her previous pathetic agenda.

  Sarah might have called Derek right then and there and cancelled his coming tomorrow, if she hadn’t already told Flora when she rang last night that there’d be an added guest for Christmas lunch; her new boyfriend, Derek. Although Nick had been out at the time, Sarah had no doubt that Flora would have told Nick this news at breakfast this morning. Flora was a dear lady, but inclined to gossip.

  No, there was nothing for it but to go through with this charade now.

  ‘You’ll probably be glad, come tomorrow,’ Sarah told herself as she climbed out of the car and walked round to open the hatchback. Nick’s new girlfriend sounded like a right bitch, if Flora’s character assessment was to be believed. When Sarah asked what she was like, Flora had said she was up herself, big time.

  ‘Just as good-looking as the last one,’ Flora had added, ‘but more intelligent. And doesn’t she know it! Still, she won’t last any longer than the others. Six months is tops for our Nick. After that, it’s out with the old and in with the new. If that boy ever settles down, I’ll eat my hat.’

  Sarah pulled a face as she lifted her two bags out of the boot.

  She would, too.

  Nick was definitely not a marrying man; never had been and never would be. He wasn’t into romance, either. Catering to his sexual needs was the name of his game where women were concerned.

  Once Nick got bored with his latest game-partner, she was out.

  He’d once admitted to Sarah when she’d been about twelve—they’d just watched a very sweet romance on TV together—that he could never fall in love the way the characters had in that movie. He’d confessed rather grimly that he didn’t have any idea what that kind of love felt like.

  Sarah presumed his inability to emotionally connect with women had something to do with his loveless upbringing, a subject she’d overheard being discussed by her parents not long before her mother died. Apparently, Nick had suffered terribly at the hands of a drunken and abusive father, running away to live on the streets of Sydney when he’d been only thirteen. After that, he’d been reduced to doing some pretty dreadful things just to survive.

  Sarah never did find out exactly how dreadful, but she could guess.

  Just after turning eighteen, Nick had finally been arrested—for stealing cars—and had been sentenced to two years in jail.

  It was during this term that he’d finally been shown some kindness, and given some practical help. By a man who’d spotted his natural intelligence, a man who, for years, had generously given up many hours of his time to help those less fortunate.

  Nick was put into a special education programme for inmates that this man had funded, and became one of their most successful graduates, achieving his higher-school certificate in record time.

  That man had been her father.

  ‘Sarah!’

  Sarah almost jumped out of her skin at her name being called.

  But when she saw who it was, she smiled.

  ‘Hi there, Jim. You’re looking well.’ Flora’s husband had to be over sixty by now. But he was one of those wirily built men who aged well and always moved with a spritely step.

  ‘Got a lot of luggage there, missie,’ he said, joining her behind her car and staring down at her two very large bags. ‘Home for good, are you?’

  ‘Not yet, Jim. Did you get me a good tree?’

  ‘Yep. A beauty. Set it up in the usual spot in the family room. I put the boxes of decorations next to it. And I’ve hung up the lights out the back.’

  ‘Great. Thanks, Jim.’

  Jim nodded. He wasn’t one for chit-chat, unlike his wife.

  Jim was happiest when he was working with his hands. He loved keeping the extensive grounds at Goldmine spick and span, not such a difficult job after her father had come home from a visit to Tokyo a decade ago and had all the more traditional flower beds and lawns ripped out and replaced with Japanese-style gardens. Now there were lots of rocks and gravel pathways, combined with ponds and water features, all shown to advantage by interesting trees and plants.

  Jim hadn’t been too thrilled at first with the lack of grass and flowers, but he’d grown to appreciate the garden’s unique beauty and serenity.

  Jim picked up Sarah’s bags without her asking and started heading along the curved path towards the front porch, putting paid to her earlier plan to sneak in unnoticed through the garages.

  To be honest, Sarah still wished she looked better for Nick’s first sight of her. It would have been rewarding to see the surprised look on his face.

  Sighing, she grabbed her carry-all from the passenger seat, locked the car and hurried after Jim, who by then had dropped her bags by the front door and rung the doorbell.

  ‘I do have keys,’ she said, and was fishing through her bag in search of them when the door was wrenched open.

  Not by Flora—but by Nick.

  If ever Sarah was glad she was wearing sunglasses it was at that moment.

  Not because of Nick’s reaction to her, but because of her reaction to him.

  She’d been so caught up with worrying about her own appearance that she’d forgotten just how devastatingly attractive she found him, especially when he was wearing as little as he was wearing today: just board shorts and a sleeveless white surf top, the colour highlighting his beautifully bronzed skin.

  Sarah’s thankfully hidden gaze travelled hungrily down his body then up again before fixing on his mouth.

  If Nick’s black eyes hadn’t been so hard, and his other features strongly masculine, his mouth might have made him into a pretty boy. Both his lips were full and sensual, curving around a mouthful of flashing white teeth, their perfection courtesy of the top-flight dentist her father had taken him to as soon as he’d been let out of prison.

  If Sarah had any criticism, it was of his hair, which she believed he kept far too short. Still, the buzz-cut style did give him an intimidating look that probably worked well for him in the business world.

  ‘Well, hello, stranger,’ he said, his dark eyes sweeping down to her sneakered feet, then up again.

  Not a hint of admiration in his expression, however, or even surprise. No reaction at all. Zilch.

  His lack of reaction—she’d been expecting some sort of compliment—exasperated Sarah. What did she have to do to make the man notice her, damn it?

  ‘Thanks, Jim,’ he said, bending to pick up her bags. ‘I’ll take these now.’

  ‘Yes, thanks, Jim,’ Sarah managed to echo through clenched teeth.

  Jim nodded, then moved off, by which time Nick had picked up her luggage and turned to carry it inside.

  Sarah wanted to hit him. Instead, she gritted her teeth even harder.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to turn twenty-five. The sooner she got Nick out of her life, the better. He was like a thorn in her side, niggling away at her. How could she have what she wanted most in life—which was children of her own—if he was always there, spoiling things for her? How could she feel completely happy when she kept comparing every man she dated to him?

  Out of sight would be out of mind. Hopefully.

  Sarah closed the front door after her, smothering a sigh when she saw Nick heading for the stairs with her cases.

  ‘I can take thos
e up,’ she said, desperately needing a few minutes away from the man to regain her composure.

  As much as Sarah had subconsciously always known that nothing would ever come of her secret feelings for Nick, finally facing the futility of her fantasies was a soul-shattering experience.

  He hadn’t even noticed that she’d lost weight!

  All that work. For nothing!

  ‘It’s no trouble,’ he threw over his shoulder as he continued on up the stairs with the bags.

  Sarah gritted her teeth, and hurried up the stairs after him. ‘Why aren’t you at golf?’

  ‘I wanted the opportunity to talk to you,’ he tossed back at her. ‘Privately.’

  ‘About what?’

  He didn’t answer her, instead charging on ahead with her bags.

  ‘About what, Nick?’ she repeated when she caught up, frustrated by his lack of reply.

  He ground to a halt on the top landing, dropped her bags then turned to face her.

  ‘Flora, for one thing.’

  ‘What about her? She’s not ill, is she?’

  ‘No, but she can’t do what she used to do. She gets very tired. This last year, I’ve had to hire a home-cleaning service to come in twice a week to do all the heavy cleaning for her.’

  ‘I didn’t realise.’

  ‘If you came home occasionally,’ Nick pointed out drily, ‘you might have noticed.’

  It was a fair comment, evoking a large dose of guilt. Sarah recognised she’d been very self-obsessed this past year. But she’d been on a mission. A futile mission, as it turned out.

  ‘I … I’ve been very busy,’ she said by way of an excuse.

  ‘With the new boyfriend, I take it?’ came his next comment, this one quite sarcastic.

  Sarah bristled. ‘I have a right to a social life,’ she retorted, taking off her sunglasses so that she could glare at him. ‘You have one.’

  ‘Indeed. But it doesn’t take over my whole existence.’

  His critical tone was so typical of Nick when it came to her having a boyfriend, his condemning attitude often sparking a reckless rebellion in her that had her running off at the mouth.