An Honorable Surprise Read online

  Tamara looked at her and took a deep breath. “Well, I’ve got a date,” she said. “No - wait “ as Donna shrieked in amazement. “Just a dinner date. An old flame.”

  “But you never go out - I worry that you haven’t got a life” Donna answered. “Come on - tell all? I won’t breathe a word. ”

  “Oh yeah? - Half the office will know by the time I leave the downstairs lobby and the rest of the building will be gossiping about it all night! Nope - no excitement, it’s just an old family friend who I haven’t seen for years who’s passing through.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Hey, nosey! None of your business. Anyhow, you’re far too young to be allowed into The Club!”

  It had the desired effect. Donna’s face fell: no one chose to have a date at The Club. The oil paintings of former premiers and winners of sailing regattas crowding the dark walls would chill anyone’s ardour.

  “OK - well, look, Tamara - have a great time. If you want to go dancing ?

  “Donna - good try! Tamara smiled affectionately at her. “It’s family, and part business. No surprises.” Which is partly true, she thought. But I could do with more family and less business.

  Before she left her apartment Tamara took one last look at herself. The dress still looked perfect. The simple diamond earrings she had brought in Hong Kong were her only jewellery but her tanned arms and killer heels meant that she could walk confidently into the lion’s den.

  Chapter 4

  Simon had arrived at The Club early. As he was a Platinum member he received VIP treatment: “Your usual area, Mr Henty?”

  Simon smiled at the irony. It didn’t seem that long ago since he was wiping tables to earn his tuition fees for business school. Fast forward, and he now qualified for table reservations anywhere he chose, and was even entitled to his own “area” in Sydney’s most prestigious private club.

  “Thank you, Marko. Yes - I’m expecting someone for dinner.”

  The Maitre’d smiled knowingly. “I’ll show her to your table as soon as she arrives, sir.” The assumption that Simon would be meeting a woman was total.

  Simon leaned back in the padded chair and thought about Tamara. He didn’t expect her to accept his threat to take his business elsewhere, which he admitted to himself, had been over the top. Nor was he likely to move the account; he knew the concierge service was exceptional, and Tamara did her job well. She was discreet, and he valued her professionalism. In any event, she wouldn’t be anything like the eye-catching fashion models he normally took on vacation.

  He sat at his table and nodded to three friends before checking his emails. The restaurant frowned upon mobile phones, but he did not expect to be reprimanded.

  Tamara caught her breath when she alighted from the taxi. Memories flooded back to her as she looked up at the imposing white fake colonial building with its wide granite steps leading up the polished mahogany doors. So much was unchanged: the discreet polished brass signs, the liveried doormen outside the doors in their dark blue frock coats and polished black top hats, the national flags fluttering high above on their white staffs against the azure skyline. She had flashbacks of the excitement she felt as a little girl when she stood on these steps, holding her mother’s hand. The family used to come at the weekend for brunch, and Tamara delighted in being able to choose whatever she wanted, and eat as much as she liked, while her parents looked on indulgently and chatted to friends.

  But that was then.

  Tonight would be different. She decided she would not only tell Simon that she was not going to accompany him as his eye-candy, but that Square Circle was going to keep his business.

  She calculated he would not welcome adverse publicity she could drip feed to the press suggesting it was she who had “let him go”. And walking up the stone steps, she anticipated that an interesting conversation about to take place.

  The white gloved doorman stepped forward and held the door for her. “Good evening, Ma’am. Welcome to The Club.”

  Simon was alerted by a text from reception: "Your guest has arrived, Mr Henty.”

  Well, this should be interesting, he thought. After three years he was finally going to meet the woman who had avoided meeting him yet who still managed to get under his skin by subtly indicating her disapproval of his lifestyle. If nothing else, the evening might give him an opportunity to express some home truths. He paid her wages, and he wasn’t going to put up with any more attitude.

  Tamara walked through to the lobby with its atrium that soared up the five floors of the building. A fantastic flower arrangement dominated the hall and she inhaled the heady scent of the luxuriant flowers appreciatively. She handed her wrap to the concierge and noticed the way his eyes flickered down her body. God, I hope this dress isn’t too over the top.

  “I’m meeting Mr Henty for dinner,” she said. “He’s expecting me.”

  “Of course, Madam. Would you care to follow me?”

  As she followed the concierge across the lobby towards the main dining area, she couldn’t help but worry she might be recognised. It was irrational, she knew - who on earth would remember her? Besides, she styled her hair in a different way now and, well, she’d never dressed quite like this.

  She was led into the restaurant with its stunning harbour view. She knew where Simon would be waiting for her; after all, her company had organised his membership which allowed him to leapfrog the normal three year waiting list.

  Simon switched his phone to silent and looked across the restaurant expectantly. Surely not? The woman following the concierge to his table was stunning. He’d had no idea what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t the gorgeous woman walking towards him. She wasn’t like the anorexic models he was used to dating: her curves were just right on her. Her riotous blonde hair and, my God, that dress. It screamed sex appeal.

  He stood up and held out his hand. “Tamara? How nice to meet you at last! Up till now you have just been a voice at the end of the telephone but now, face to face -“

  “Good evening, Mr Henty,” Tamara said coolly, holding out her hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

  She sat in her chair as the waiter moved it for her politely, and waited for Simon to speak.

  “You look just great,” he said warmly, “really great. That dress is stunning. How about a drink? Some wine? A spritzer?” He turned to the waiter

  “Mineral water will be fine, thank you.”

  Okay, okay - so she is being careful. She’s here to tell me she doesn’t want to go anywhere with me. Doesn't she realise the stir she made when she walked in here?

  Tamara knew she was being appraised. “Before we order, can I begin by asking we continue the discussion that got interrupted a few days ago?” she asked calmly. “You made a preposterous proposal which I have no intention of accepting. And you also made a threat that was tantamount to blackmail and won’t look too good in the tabloids.” Her eyes met his.

  Simon paused for a second. He had walked into the room prepared to change his mind and let Tamara off the hook; but after seeing the stunning woman sitting opposite him he was now determined to leave the meal with Tamara coming with him on his vacation.

  “Of course we’re going to talk things through,” he said easily. “I can understand your reaction and, I admit, perhaps I was hasty. But I think you know I like to mix business and pleasure, so, please, let’s enjoy ourselves this evening, even if we never meet each other again!”

  Tamara smiled, and found herself looking at Simon differently. He was certainly attractive, and he was one of those men who looked better in person than when they were photographed. The paparazzi pictures were always harsh and unflattering, whereas he was smiling at her warmly across the table, with amazing blue eyes that twinkled mischievously.

  “Of course,” she said, smiling. “You’ve chosen the best restaurant in Sydney; it would be a shame not to enjoy it”

  “Then let’s order.”

  They both enjoyed the lobster which had b
een landed that morning at the harbour, and Simon made Tamara laugh as he described his own attempts at deep sea fishing. “Let me give you some advice,” he finished, “Next time you organise one of those fishing trips as a corporate hospitality experience, make sure there are tame marlin underneath the boat for me to catch. Better still, for my clients to catch!”

  Tamara pushed her plate away and looked at the man opposite her. She had not anticipated how the evening might develop. Simon was not the aggressive alpha male that she expected, nor was he the bully that she imagined when they had spoken on the telephone. In fact, there were aspects that she found intriguing. He hardly talked about his company, and seemed more interested describing the environmental work he was funding.

  “Take this poor lobster,” he said. “Millions of years of evolution have made him the predator he is - there’s precious little out there that he’s afraid of. But he’s up against an invisible enemy.”

  “Which is?” Tamara asked politely, knowing she was about to be told, and hoping it wouldn’t turn into an eco-lecture.

  Simon glanced at her, “I’ll keep it short,” he smiled. “It’s pollution that is hitting these lobsters. Their hard shells, their aggressive, take-no-prisoner lifestyle - none of it’s any good.”

  “So what’s to do? I mean, we’re all guilty aren’t we?”

  “It’s complicated, I admit. But I’m funding marine research that’s investigating ways that our oceans remain clean. In fact, that may even become cleaner if we can start making headway into recovering some of the pollution that’s wrecking marine life.”

  His voice had taken on a serious intensity; Tamara felt that Simon wasn’t talking to her, but was dictating a memo to himself to be acted on later.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m like that. I get carried away and start giving people lectures. I apologise.”

  And then he grinned at her.

  Tamara was shaken, and laughed nervously. Up till this moment they had both been polite but suddenly she felt he had opened up and his real feelings were pouring from him. He had the most gorgeous turquoise blue eyes, and they transfixed her, willing her to respond. For a moment she was at a loss for words and she had to drag her gaze away. I’m not going to be bamboozled by this guy.

  Simon hadn’t been grandstanding, but he noticed the subtle change in her expression. Up till now her eyes have been nervous, but she’s decided on a course of action, he thought to himself. He knew himself too well not to admit that he was attracted to this impossibly glamorous woman but she certainly wasn’t giving any sign that she found him of interest.

  “Let me be straight,” he went on, as the waiter brought their coffee. “I meant what I said. You don’t have to come with me. It really is your choice. And I won’t blackmail you, either. Forget what I said about pulling the account - you do a great job and I don’t want any of that to change. So why don’t we look at my proposal as a business proposition. I need a companion - your company supplies one. You. But you can look on it as being a mystery shopper experience. Why don’t you give yourself the chance - at my expense, I should add - to experience the service you offer at first hand. It may be that you can find ways to improve it?”

  He leaned back and looked at Tamara shrewdly. If he had read her correctly, she would go with his plan. Not that he expected her to be a walkover.

  Tamara stirred her coffee and thought quickly. At least the account was safe, she thought. She could just walk out and be done with it. He was an attractive man, but not someone that she felt attracted to. On the other hand, an all expenses trip to Italy that would allow her to really see if her company delivered the service that it claimed, could do her career no harm. She glanced at her watch.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve got to leave. It’s been a delightful evening.”

  “What have you got to say about my proposal?”

  “I’m glad you’re not going to blackmail me. I’m glad you haven’t cancelled your trip. It’s a good one. And, I’m afraid, your costs are non-refundable were you to cancel at this late stage.” Not that he would even notice the money.

  “And?”

  Tamara reached for her bag, and pushed her chair back. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Mr Henty - “

  “Simon?”

  “I can’t say that your plan is irresistible, because the trip won’t be a surprise - it’s one that I planned for you, so no surprises there. And spending ten days in close confinement with a stranger is not high on my list of things to do before I die!”

  He looked at her as she stood up, and rose to his feet.

  “But I’ll see you at the airport,” she said.

  Simon watched her walk out of the restaurant, her glossy hair trailing down her back, her bare shoulders catching the flickering light from the chandeliers, and then sat thoughtfully at his table. Then he reached for his phone and punched a number.

  “Damian? I want you to do a background check for me. No, this is deep cover. Don’t leave a trail, just find out all you can. It’s a woman. Tamara Tremaine.”

  Chapter 5

  Tamara was walking past Donna’s desk next day when a tabloid newspaper headline stopped her in her tracks. She always teased Donna about her reading - her P.A’s head was always buried in celebrity magazines. But it was a grainy photograph that caught Tamara’s eye with its screaming headline, “Billionaire Enjoys Night Out With Mystery Friend.”

  The shot had been taken from across the Club restaurant, probably by a waiter, Tamara thought. She had her back towards the photographer. Simon was looking over her shoulder, straight at the camera. . Thank God she had worn her hair long - it would be very difficult for anyone to recognise who it was, and she was still looking at the photograph when Donna returned to the office and caught her reading the article.

  “Hey - I knew you were a closet celeb watcher. So who’s in the news?” Snatching the newspaper Donna scanned the page. “I knew it - Simon Henty, our man with the money,” she shouted gleefully. “And this picture was taken at The Club - he must have been there when you were? Did you talk to him?”

  Tamara smiled. “Nope, I had a text from my friend before I left. We decided to meet down at the harbor - that new sushi place. I can recommend it.”

  “Ugh - sushi.” Donna grimaced, sitting at her desk. “Still - you had a good time?”

  “Yes, it was fun,” Tamara agreed, wondering how she had become so good at telling small lies over the years. “But I came away feeling I needed a break from Sydney. I’ve decided to take some vacation. We’re up to speed with projects here; Simon Henty is getting out of our hair in a couple days’ time and you can still get hold of me whenever you need to.”

  “Hey - that’s great news, Tamara! Wasn’t I just saying yesterday that I was worried you didn’t have a life? Where are you taking off to?”

  “I’m going up to Byron Bay - some friends are taking off and said I could house sit - they’ve got a stunning house above the bay by the ocean. I’ll take some trashy novels, sun cream and chill.”

  “I’m being left in charge of the shop!” Donna said theatrically.

  “Not quite. I’ll be my getting emails,” Tamara said quickly.

  “That doesn’t sound much like a vacation?”

  “I know - but New York is chasing everyone as the stock market listing draws nearer. I don’t want to make them jumpy.”

  I think I’ve got away with it.

  But Tamara found the next couple of days were a torture. She knew that Simon’s high profile in the gossip columns meant that any scrap of news to do with his love life - real or imagined - was red meat to journalists. She couldn’t stand the thought of the tabloids digging into the past she had tried so hard to forget and splashing it across a centrefold for the whole world to see.

  But it turned out not to be difficult to leave the office for ten days; Donna was primed to email if anything serious cropped up, so all that remained were her own travel arrangements. It helped that she knew every de
tail of the trip that she and Simon were taking. Italy would be hot but it would be cool on the coast.

  When she was at home she sorted out the clothes she would need, and wondered about her bikini. It flattered her body but she didn’t want to give Simon any ideas. Still, she would cross that bridge when she got to it. In any case, he was used to high end catwalk models with limbs to die for; she didn’t think that she would be any competition.

  At the same time, she suddenly found herself wondering what he would look like by the pool. He obviously kept in good shape and looked as though he worked out regularly. He had said something about scuba diving when they had dinner.

  The most difficult part of the journey, she reasoned, would be the flight. Luxurious though it would be, there would be no getting away from him. Before she knew it, however, she was waiting for the driver from Simon’s company to take her to the airport She looked at her scuffed case. It hadn’t been used for years, and Tamara hoped it wouldn’t look out of place in the luxury villa where they would be staying.