Josh cleared his throat and allowed a small smile of satisfaction to curl his lips as she startled and stopped what she was doing.
“Callie, I need you to attend a gallery opening and silent auction with me tonight. I hope you’re free.”
Too bad if she wasn’t, she’d simply have to change her plans. Under his perusal he saw her eyes widen in surprise for the briefest moment before she appeared to gather her thoughts.
“Tonight?”
“Tremont Corp has sponsored a new gallery in conjunction with the Blackthorne School of Fine Arts.”
“That’s the school that offers scholarships to kids from underprivileged backgrounds, isn’t it?”
Kids like he’d been. “Yeah, that’s the one. I’ll pick you up around seven. Dress formal.”
Callie visibly bristled at his preemptory tone. “I haven’t said I’m free yet.”
He was beginning to enjoy seeing how he could unsettle her. Each day brought its own new challenge with Callie. He kept his face poker straight as he answered.
“If you’re not, you’ll have to change your plans. I need you there.”
Need being a relative word. He wanted her there with him.
“Why wasn’t this in the appointment schedule?”
Good question, he conceded silently. “I hadn’t made up my mind to attend until just now. Do you have any objection?”
“I object to the lack of notice, but as it happens I am free this evening.”
Josh nodded. “Get used to things happening without notice. One of the duties I demand from my staff is flexibility and availability. I’ll be at your place at seven—I already know where you live. Be ready.”
Josh drew his Maserati to a halt outside the compact two-story town house Callie had listed as her residence. The brick-and-weatherboard building was well maintained, and the garden lining the front path was full of late spring colour with the kind of plants his mother had always adored. It was a far cry from the manicured perfection showcasing the palatial 1920s mansion he called home in St Heliers.
Still, considering her location here in Mt Eden, she was doing pretty well for herself. He wondered how much of her position she’d achieved on her own and how much had been assisted by the Palmer family. They tended to look after their own—when it suited them.
With long practice he quelled the habitual anger that flooded his mind. Things should have been so different for his mother and for him as he grew up. The reminder of what the Palmers were capable of never lay far from the periphery of his mind, even if they’d successfully hoodwinked the nation into believing they were squeaky-clean paragons of society.
Payback would be an absolute bitch. He would personally make certain of that.
His hand hovered at the wood-panelled front door to knock, but before his knuckles could rap against the varnished surface the door swung open.
Not a lot took Josh’s breath away these days, but the vision of elegant sophistication in front of him managed to succeed where many had failed.
At first he thought her halter-neck gown was black, but in the overhead lighting he realised it was a rich dark chocolate brown—the same colour as her eyes. The fabric skimmed over her body, in much the same way his fingers now itched to do, caressing each curve in a subtle yet sensuous sweep.
He let out a long low-pitched whistle.
“You look amazing.”
“Thank you. You did say formal. I hope this isn’t too much.”
Too much? He stepped back to appreciate the rear view of the dress as she came through the doorway and methodically locked her front door. The creamy skin of her back was exposed until just below her shoulder blades, and for some reason he found what the gown hid even more enticing than what it revealed.
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
“For getting it right?” Callie looked up at him from sexy smoky-shadowed eyes.
“Yes.”
“Believe me, I’ve been well trained.”
There was a note to her voice he couldn’t put his finger on. Not quite strain, not quite cynicism, either.
Josh felt his lips curve into a smile. “I can well imagine.”
Callie stiffened at his side. “What do you mean by that?”
“The Palmers expect a certain, shall we say, level of behaviour in their consorts.”
“As do you,” she was quick to retort.
“As do I,” he conceded with a small nod of his head. He placed his hand on the small of her back. “Come, let’s get going.”
She didn’t move immediately and he wondered if she thought he was being too informal touching her as he did, but her lips firmed slightly, as if she’d come to some silent decision, and she allowed him to guide her back down her pathway toward his waiting car.