Far From Perfect by Portia Da Costa Read Free Book Online Page A

the plainest of terms that night at Villa Rosa he wasn’t interested in her romantically, so why continue to check up on her?
    “Nothing happened between us,” she said, tamping down her irritation with Lydia. Her aunt was the most well-meaning person on the face of the earth, and clearly thought she’d been acting in the best of interests. “I think Nick and I have just sort of outgrown each other over the years. I did have a crush on him at one time, but we’ve both found new friends, new interests.”
    Was he still watching her? Her body seemed to think so. She had visible goose bumps on her arms, and unless it was due to some unexpected adulterant in the champagne that was affecting them, her lips were still tingling from that kiss.
    Lydia snorted and said a rude word. There was no fooling her, even when Anna realized she’d sort of managed to fool herself. Almost… “If he’s outgrown you, why on earth did he—” She stopped short, then bit her lip as Anna focused on her. “Look forget it. Let’s enjoy the party.”
    “Why on earth did he what?” Anna demanded. What had Nick done? What on earth had he done?
    “Nothing,” persisted Lydia.
    “Tell me, Lyd! If it’s to do with me, I’ve a right to know.”
    Her aunt had the decency to look shamefaced, but she stopped prevaricating. “Well, he offered to invest in Traditional Temps, that’s what. He knew how important the business is to you, and he wanted to ensure we got off to a good start.”
    “Oh, please don’t tell me you accepted and pretended that it was your own money.” Agitation swirled in Anna’s throat. The idea of Nick exerting control over the only thing she considered to be truly hers—the business she and Lydia had started together—was deeply unnerving, almost horrifying. His Machiavellian schemes were extending into all corners of her life, it seemed.
    “No, of course not,” said Lydia, shaking her head. “For one thing I wouldn’t be able to fake the sort of funds Nick was offering. And two, I knew you wouldn’t accept it—for some reason best known to yourself—so I declined.” Her eyes brightened. “But he did say the offer would always be on the table if we changed our minds.”
    Anna sighed. “I’ll take that under advisement,” she said dryly, then turned around, only to find, of course, that Nick was still watching her closely. His slight, insolent smile only increased her disquiet and made her even more convinced that he’d acquired demonic powers somewhere along the line and could read her mind.
    If only she could charge across and have the whole business out with him, here and now. But it was her dad’s party, and the last thing she wanted was a scene. But as dinner was announced, the temptation to confront Nick still simmered in her gut.
     
    Oh, why does this not surprise me?
    Lydia had clearly rigged the place settings too. There was no other logical explanation for finding herself sitting next to Nick. Summoning a fair attempt at a carefree, convivial, dinner-party smile, she allowed him to draw out her seat for her, then tuck it neatly behind her knees when she sat. Anticipating a frontal conversation attack, she braced herself, but was saved his individual attention by the guest on his other side. A large, over-dressed, over-made-up, over-perfumed woman, the wife of one of her father’s many friends, engaged Nick in animated conversation and a display of her ample cleavage.
    Enjoy! thought Anna savagely, knowing it was only a matter of time before her turn came.
    “So, Anna, is Traditional Temps thriving?”
    Nick’s voice was casual, social and warm, but beneath the surface it was loaded and provocative. Ding dong went the warning bell in Anna’s brain.
    She turned to look at him and found his beautiful eyes scoping her out, assessing, monitoring. It was blatantly obvious he knew that she knew.
    Anna kept her voice even and low, grappling not to reveal any hint of antagonism. “You tell me,