More Than One Night Read online

  Soon, they would be the go-to guys for hospitality I.T. in Australia. After that… Well, after that they were reaching into territory far beyond even Rhys’s current ambitions.

  Greg held his hands out in front of him. “Check it out,” he said as his fingers trembled in midair.

  Rhys offered up his own shaking hands and they started laughing all over again.

  “Man, I’m wrecked,” Rhys said. “I feel like I ran a marathon.”

  He pulled his tie loose and shrugged out of his jacket. Half moons of sweat radiated from beneath his armpits from all the nervous energy he’d expended.

  “Let’s go out, man,” Greg said. “Let’s grab this town by the scruff of the neck and not let go until it shakes us off.”

  “For sure. I’ll call the office and tell the guys to meet up with us.”

  “And I’ll tell Jess to hire a babysitter.”

  They were both grinning as they exited the washroom. They’d come in separate cars and they parted ways in the garage beneath the building.

  “Café Sydney, ASAP. Be there or be square,” Greg called over his shoulder.

  “Bring your accessory liver, my friend. Because tonight is the night,” Rhys said.

  Greg’s laughter echoed at him, bouncing off the concrete and the rows of parked cars. Rhys walked toward his ten-year-old BMW, aware that his cheeks were starting to ache with all his smiling.

  So many people had raised their eyebrows when he’d quit his lucrative management role with a rival I.T. firm eight months ago. Friends, family members had all thought he was nuts to walk away from a cushy job when the global economy was still so shaky. But Rhys had always planned to start his own consulting company from the moment he’d earned his computer engineering degree. He’d saved every spare cent he’d ever earned, denying himself the luxury car and fancy apartment his salary could have commanded because he was determined to be his own master, to guide his own destiny. To make his mark on the world.

  He pulled out his phone and dialed a number by heart rather than use his contact list, only registering that he was still underground when the phone beeped to let him know he had no signal. Shaking his head at his own woolly-headedness—apparently euphoria did that to a person, who knew?—he started his car and drove out into the dying light of a warm Sydney day. He tried his parents again and listened to the phone ring until finally the machine picked up.

  “Hey. It’s me,” he said. “Just wanted you guys to know I got Gainsborough. Like I said I would. I want to take you out for dinner to celebrate, so let me know when you’re available and I’ll book someplace nice, okay?”

  He ended the call as he braked at a stoplight. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to think who else he should phone. The gang back in the office, obviously, but he felt as though there was someone else he was missing. His thoughts ranged over his brothers and sisters, but he dismissed them after a moment’s consideration. They were all so absorbed in their own things that they wouldn’t really care. They would be happy for him, sure, but they’d never really understood what he and Greg were trying to achieve with the business and at some point in the conversation he would feel as though he was bragging—the younger brother trying to impress his siblings with his achievements. They would hear his news via their parents or at the next family function.

  He frowned. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of a single other person who would understand what today meant and share his excitement. The realization left him feeling vaguely dissatisfied. Shrugging off the sensation, he called the office, laughing as he heard the guys hollering in the background.

  “Go home, put on your party clothes and meet us at Café Sydney,” he instructed when they’d calmed enough to be coherent. “It’s going to be a big one.”

  He followed his own advice, cutting across town to his apartment in Potts Point. He spared a glance for the Finger Wharf as he drove through Woolloomooloo. The sun glinted off the white rooftops of the luxurious apartments that had been built on top of the ancient timber wharf. Home to Russell Crowe and a number of other high-profile Australians, the wharf was considered one of the best places to live in Sydney.

  Not long now, baby.

  He’d been eyeing an apartment in the wharf development for years now. The smaller apartments with the lesser views started at around half a million dollars, but Rhys didn’t want a small apartment. He wanted space, he wanted views. If things went smoothly with Gainsborough, there was no reason why he couldn’t start talking to real estate agents in earnest.

  No reason at all.

  A second rush of euphoria hit him as he considered what today meant. He wound down the window and let out a triumphant yahoo. A few people turned to stare. He felt a little stupid, but what the hell.

  Today was the day his life had finally come together. All the planning. All the sacrifices. All the hours and hours of hard graft.

  Life didn’t hand out many moments like this, and he planned to enjoy every second of it. And then some.

  “STOP FIDGETING.” Gina slapped Charlie’s hand away from the neckline of her top.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Everyone in this restaurant knows I’m not wearing a bra. You know that, right?”

  Despite her friend’s admonition, Charlie once again tweaked the neckline of the metallic mesh halter she was wearing. No matter what she did, there was no hiding the fact that there was a lot of cleavage on show. Like the skintight black stretch-satin trousers she was wearing, Gina’s top was not built for subtlety.

  She glanced around the dark, woody interior of Café Sydney, hugely self-conscious in her borrowed clothes.

  “No one knows you’re not wearing a bra except you. And maybe the people at the next table now since we’re talking so loudly. You need to relax. Here, have some more champagne.”

  Gina leaned over and plucked the champagne bottle from the ice bucket where their waiter had left it and poured them both another glass. “You look great, C. You look amazing.”

  “I look like I charge by the hour.” Charlie shifted in her seat, wondering if it was possible for pants to be so tight they cut off circulation to vital organs.

  “You know what your problem is? You’re too used to trying to be one of the guys. Don’t get me wrong, I understand why that’s a good thing in the army, but you’re not enlisted anymore. At the risk of sounding like a feminine-hygiene commercial, you need to embrace your womanhood.”

  Stung, Charlie paused with her glass halfway to her mouth. “I never tried to be one of the guys. I tried to be a good soldier.” She could hear the defensiveness in her voice and she sat a little straighter. “Just because I’m not into pink and because I don’t put everything out there on display doesn’t make me butch or one of the guys.”

  Gina reached out and touched her arm. “I’m sorry. That came out the wrong way. I wasn’t saying you were butch. That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean, then?”

  Like it or not, Gina had hit a raw nerve and for some reason Charlie felt unable to let it go. There was so much else up in the air at the moment, having her sense of herself undermined felt like a step too far.

  Gina studied her for a beat. “Do you honestly think you look bad tonight?”

  “I don’t look like me.”

  “That’s not answering my question. Do you think you look good or not?”

  Charlie glanced at herself. The black mesh of her top reflected the candlelight on the table and clung to her breasts in what she could only describe as an outrageously sexy way. The satin of her pants glowed with a more subtle luster, somehow lending her usually gangly legs a new voluptuousness.

  “I look okay,” she finally conceded.

  Gina shook her head. “You’re hopeless. You’re the hott
est woman in this room and you don’t even know it. What a waste.”

  Charlie made a disbelieving noise.

  “You don’t believe me?” Gina asked.

  “You don’t need to blow smoke up my skirt. I know exactly where I fit in the man-woman food chain.” From the moment she hit puberty she’d known. She wasn’t blonde, she wasn’t perky, and she didn’t have that unknowable “something” that made men want to howl at the moon. A painful realization at the time, but now simply a fact of life. She’d long ago accepted that straight, mousy-brown hair, plain brown eyes and nondescript features were not going to set the world on fire.

  “So where do you fit, then?” Gina asked.

  “On a scale of one to ten? Five. Maybe six on a good day.”

  “You’re nuts.”

  “Why are we even having this conversation? Let’s talk about something else. Tell me more about this Spencer guy you’re seeing.”

  Gina frowned. “Is this why you never went for it with Hamish in Townsville?”

  “Good God. You have a memory like an elephant.” Charlie took a gulp of champagne, hoping the action would hide the fact that she was blushing.

  Her crush on Hamish Flint had not been her proudest moment. She’d mooned over the sexy, handsome warrant officer from afar for more than a year and never gotten the courage to do more than talk work with him.

  Gina rested both forearms on the table and leaned toward Charlie. “I want you to indulge me in a little experiment. I want you to do a lap of the restaurant. All the way around the perimeter. And I want you to pay attention to how many men look at you.”

  Charlie rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to do that.”

  “Why not? Afraid I’m right?”

  “I know you’re wrong.”

  “Off you go, then. One lap, and pay attention. And no crossing your arms over your chest or sneaking around.”

  “Get off the grass.”

  Gina made a chicken sound.

  Charlie rolled her eyes. “How old are you?”

  “How scared are you?”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “Then put your moneymaker where your mouth is, lady,” Gina said.

  A surge of annoyance brought Charlie to her feet. “Fine. I’ll do it. But be ready to eat your words.”

  Gina gave her a finger wave. “I want an accurate tally. No fudging.”

  Charlie snorted as she turned from the table. Gina was an idiot. Well intentioned, but an idiot nonetheless. Charlie had lived with this body and this face for thirty-two years. As she’d said, she knew her place in the dating food chain. And it certainly wasn’t at the top.

  A server was backing away from the next table and she waited until he’d passed before taking her first step. Immediately she felt the subtle sway of her breasts against the top and had to quell the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

  She lifted her chin and walked toward the first table for four. It was full of men in suits who had clearly come straight from the office, and all four of them glanced at her as she walked past. Two of them fixated on her breasts, the other two on her legs. There was no mistaking their interest and Charlie felt an odd squirm of…something in the pit of her stomach.

  Okay, clearly a fluke.

  The next table boasted six couples. Two men and one of the women gave her a fully body scan. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the men turn his head to check out her ass as she passed.

  She frowned, adding two more to her tally. Gina hadn’t told her to count women, after all.

  Next up was a family grouping—three generations, if she was any judge.

  No takers here, I’m sure.

  She was almost out of range when the gray-haired patriarch looked up from opening a gift to offer her a cheeky, spontaneous smile, while the two teenage boys turned and stared unashamedly at her breasts.

  Seven, eight, nine. Bloody hell.

  By the time she’d reached the bar area at the rear of the restaurant she’d racked up seventeen checkouts. She inspected her trousers to make sure her fly was done up. It was. There was no other explanation, then—it had to be the pants and top. Somehow, a bit of slinky fabric had convinced everyone she was a sexy siren. How…bizarre.

  And, if she was being honest with herself, kind of exciting. She’d spent far too many nights talking shop with the boys while watching other servicewomen beat off admirers with a stick to be above enjoying the very flattering male interest. She was only human, after all.

  And maybe more than a little bit tipsy.

  Experimenting, she pulled back her shoulders and injected some sway into her hips as she wove her way through the bar.

  More eyes turned her way.

  Huh. Look at that. I’m really getting the hang of this thing. Who knew it was so easy?

  The thought had barely registered when she stumbled down an unexpected step. Her hand flew out instinctively, grabbing the nearest object—which happened to be a very solid male arm holding a very full glass of wine.

  CHAPTER TWO

  RED WINE FLEW as her weight dragged the arm down. She let out a startled yelp as her hip crashed into her unsuspecting rescuer. For a second she teetered on the brink of losing her balance completely, but he moved incredibly quickly, twisting to face her while his free hand grabbed her other arm. She glanced up and found herself looking into a pair of dark-lashed chocolate-brown eyes that were half concerned, half annoyed.

  “You all right there?” he asked.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t see the step.”

  “But you’re okay now?”

  “Absolutely.”

  They were standing very close, almost chest to chest. She could smell his aftershave—something woodsy, with leather and spice notes—and she could see the fine lines around his eyes and mouth.

  She realized she was staring and took a hasty step backward. Which was when she noticed the huge red stain down the front of his steel-gray shirt. “I ruined your shirt.”

  He glanced at himself. “I guess you did.”

  “I’ll pay for dry cleaning. Or a replacement. And I’ll buy you another glass of wine. Whatever you want.”

  His gaze dipped below her face as he gave her body a slow appraisal. “How about I buy you a drink and we’ll call it even?” There was a cheeky, charming glint in his eye. His behavior was so removed from her usual interactions with men that it took her a moment to understand he was flirting.

  “I can’t let you do that. It was my fault.”

  The smile in his eyes extended to his mouth. “It was an accident. No harm done.”

  “Except to your shirt.”

  He made a dismissive sound and flicked his fingers in the air, never taking his eyes off hers.

  She found herself smiling in return. “You’re really not mad?”

  “It’s a shirt. No big deal.” He offered her his hand. “I’m Rhys, by the way.”

  “Charlie,” she said, shaking his hand. His fingers were long and strong, the nails beautifully manicured.

  “Short for Charlotte?”

  She nodded. “But I’ve always been Charlie.”

  He was still holding her hand. She knew she should pull it free, but she was too busy staring into his face.

  “Why don’t you join me and my friends.”

  She glanced over his shoulder and realized that their whole interaction was being witnessed by a group of eight people.

  She threw them a self-conscious smile. “I can’t. I’m having friend with my dinner,” she said. Then she registered what she’d said. “I mean, I’m having dinner with my friend.”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile deepened. Normally she’d
be embarrassed by her gaucheness, but there was something about the way he looked at her that short-circuited all her usual responses.

  “Right. He’s probably going to come after me with an elephant gun if I hold you up much longer, huh?”

  “It’s a she. And she’s probably thinking I’ve twisted my ankle in these shoes. Which I almost did.”

  “Then I’ll let you go,” he said, his fingers sliding from hers. “But maybe I’ll see you later. We’re going to be here awhile.”

  She had no idea what to say to the blatant invitation in his eyes. She’d never had a man look at her like that in her life. Although she could definitely get used to it, especially if they all had intense dark eyes and olive skin and broad, strong chests.

  “Um. Maybe.” She took a step backward. “Sorry about your shirt. Again.”

  “Forget about it. I already have.”

  She nodded and smiled and finally forced herself to walk away from the magnetic pull of his regard.

  “Wow,” she whispered to herself as she wove through the crowd.

  So that was what it was like to be the absolute focus of a handsome, devastating man’s attention. Heady, a little overwhelming and a lot exciting.

  She glanced over her shoulder as she stepped down into the reception area. Her eyes met his and she realized he’d been watching her walk away. As though he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  She lifted her hand and gave him the smallest of finger waves. He nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment. The urge to walk back and take him up on his offer of a drink was almost impossible to ignore.

  Um, hello? Remember Gina? Earth calling Charlie…

  Charlie forced herself to keep moving. The more distance she put between herself and Rhys-the-superhot, the more sane she felt. For a moment there, she’d bought into Gina’s fantasy of who she was. Which was plain crazy.