Barbie-barbed wire-p.r.i.c.kly with men who came on to her.

But he hadn't come on to her. It was she who had initiated the kiss at his birthday party. And today, she had known what he was about to do. There'd been no protest, either verbally or physically. Remembering the touch of her tongue on his...nothing unwilling about her desire to taste him, to explore the wild exhilaration of arousing more and more excitement... Nick felt himself stirring, needing what she could give him.

There was no doubt in his mind.

She'd wanted to satisfy herself, as much as he'd wanted to satisfy himself.

Mutual wanting.

Where could it go wrong?

CHAPTER SEVEN.

'YOUR table, sir.'

'Thank you.'

'And you're to be joined by?'

'I'll see her coming.'

'A drink while you wait, sir?'

'A jug of iced water will be fine.'

'I'll be right back with it.'

The waiter was as good as his promise, bringing the jug and pouring Nick a long gla.s.s of iced water before leaving him alone to wait for Anne. Normally he would have ordered a beer to relax over, smoothing away the tensions of the day, but he didn't have work on his mind, and the tension he felt was exciting, not to be diminished.

Tonight of all nights, Nick didn't want his senses blurred by alcohol. He would order wine when Anne came. A gla.s.s or two s.p.a.ced over dinner wouldn't dull his mind from concentrating on everything about her. As he settled back in his chair and looked around him, taking in the colour and movement of the quay, he realised he had never felt so alive, waiting for a woman.

A glance at his watch showed it was still five minutes short of seven o'clock. Having reserved this out-of-doors table, under the huge marble colonnade that led to the opera house, Nick was in the ideal position to watch for Anne, and he found himself enjoying the pa.s.sing parade of people and the coming and going of harbour ferries. Usually he was in too much of a hurry to take notice of what were familiar sights but this evening even the air smelled sweeter.

It had been a warm day for mid-November and the warmth still lingered. With daylight saving in force, tourists were still milling around, happily clicking cameras. Theatre-goers in evening dress strolled past, heading for their choice of entertainment; a concert, a play, a ballet performance. Nick's interest wasn't captivated by any of the stylish women. None of them held a candle to the one he was waiting for.

His wandering gaze picked her out of the promenade of people when she was still some fifty metres away, coming past the newspaper and magazine stall that served ferry pa.s.sengers. His breath caught in his throat at sight of her. She shone. And the whole scene he'd been watching receded into grey nothingness.

Her glorious hair was loose, its gleaming ma.s.s rippling down over her shoulders. She'd discarded the black suit, an unpalatable reminder of his aborted relationship with Tanya. The dress she wore was like the rising sun-pale bands of soft yellow and orange-a clingy, filmy creation that flowed lovingly over and around her curvy figure and ended in a fluid flare well above her knees. A creamy wrap hung around her arms. A small gold bag dangled from one hand and at the end of her long golden-tanned legs flashed cream-and-gold sandals.

She was beautiful, utterly, heart-mashingly beautiful. She was also so vibrantly female, every s.e.xual instinct in Nick started sizzling, demanding primal satisfaction. He rose from his chair with the mindless speed of a lemming rushing towards a cliff, and barely stopped himself from striding out to sweep her into his arms.

Charging like a bull...

Leon's warning punched through the body grip of desire. Nick forced himself to relax. Take the time to get to know her, he sternly told himself. It was important. Yet everything within him screamed it didn't matter. Only this feeling mattered.

The abrupt movement of a man standing up from one of the tables outside the Pier Twenty-One restaurant instantly caught Barbie's eye. Her heart flipped. It was Nick. Nick, waiting for her, watching her come to him.

Keep walking, she fiercely told herself, determined not to let her feet falter, thereby revealing some uncertainty about a meeting which should seem perfectly welcome to a woman who was attracted to a man. She should look eager, pleased to find him waiting for her. Anne Shepherd would. It was the sixteen-year-old Barbie Lamb who shrank from facing him.

But this was nine years down the track.

Barbie had the eerie sensation of a tunnel opening up between them, with Nick Armstrong at the other end of it, a powerful magnet tugging on the woman she was now, tugging inexorably on the most primitive depths of her s.e.xuality, arousing needs that confused any sense of romance she'd ever had.

The bustle of people around her faded from her consciousness. It was as though only she and Nick were real. Nothing else mattered. She wasn't even aware of her legs moving anymore, only of getting closer and closer to him, her whole body zinging in antic.i.p.ation of making contact.

He had changed out of his business suit. He wore an open-necked dark red shirt with black trousers and somehow the more casual clothes amplified his very male physique, projecting a dangerous dominance that both thrilled her and stirred a tremulous vulnerability. She dragged her gaze back to his face, the darkly handsome face that had haunted many dreams. He smiled at her and it was like a burst of sunshine chasing away the miseries of the past.

I'm Anne, she thought, and smiled back at him... Anne Shepherd, letting the ghost of a broken young heart melt away under the brilliance of being smiled upon.

He stepped around the table and pulled out a chair ready for her, a gentlemanly courtesy that was all too frequently overlooked these days in the dubious name of equality. 'You look wonderful,' he said, his voice slightly furred, sending a sensual shiver down her spine.

'Thank you,' she replied, her mind too fuzzy with pleasure to produce any other words.

He gestured to the chair and she sat, helping him adjust its position for comfortable access to the table. He hadn't offered his hand in greeting-no body contact at all-yet his closeness behind her emanated a warmth that seemed to stroke her skin and he lingered there for moments after she was settled.

Was she imagining it or was he touching her hair? Perhaps the light breeze off the harbour was ruffling it. Yet her pulse quickened at the thought of him feeling it, liking it, wanting to touch.

She was about to look up when he moved, stepping around the table, back to his own chair. His smile seemed to simmer with sensual satisfaction as he sat down and Barbie was instantly certain he had run his fingers through her hair.

'It's a lovely evening,' she remarked, trying to ignore the wild catapulting of her heart inside her chest.

'Perfect,' he answered, his vivid blue eyes focused directly on her, making the comment intensely personal.

'Is this a favourite restaurant of yours?'

'It's good and it's handy. I live close by.'

'Oh?' Her stomach fluttered. Was Sue right about bed and breakfast being on his agenda? For all her bravado about possibly wanting that, too...did she really? This fast?

He gave her a quizzical look. 'Does that disturb you?'

She shrugged. 'Why should it? You have to live somewhere. Though it must be expensive to rent anything in this part of the city.'

'I don't rent. I bought one of the apartments built above the colonnade.'

'This colonnade?'

Impossible to hide her shock. She remembered his family being financially sound-a large, double-storeyed brick home at Wamberal, two not overly expensive cars, living well and wanting for nothing-but she'd never thought of them as in the millionaire cla.s.s. To own an apartment at Benelong Point, overlooking the harbour...had Nick achieved so much in partnership with Leon Webster?

He frowned. 'It does disturb you.'

'It's just...you're talking very serious money here. I didn't realise...' The party on Observatory Hill should have told her. Plus the renovated warehouse at Glebe. Did he own that, too?

'Realise what?'

'How...how rich you are,' she blurted out.

His mouth quirked. 'Is that a black mark against me?'

It sounded absurd. How could wealth attained by hard work and talent be a black mark against anyone? Yet it put him on a level far above her own situation where she and Sue were struggling to make ends meet. She wondered who and what Tanya Wells was-a high-flying career person, a socialite?

All this time she'd been thinking of Nick as the Nick she had known, wanting him to love her, while he...how was he thinking of her? Bed and breakfast?

'What's the problem, Anne?' he asked quietly, caringly.

Anne...

She had changed from the person she once was.

He had changed, too.

This was, indeed, a new ball game, and it had to be accepted as the current day reality it was. Pursuing a dream-an old dream-suddenly seemed very foolish. Yet looking at Nick, she felt the same drawing power he'd always had on her. More...

She took a deep breath and spelled out one undeniable truth. 'I'm not in your league. I'm a professional singer but it's never been what I'd call steady work and I've never cracked the big time. I love singing and I make a living out of it.'

'Nothing wrong with that,' he slid in. 'Not many people can make a living out of doing what they really enjoy doing. It's great that you've been able to in what must be a tough, compet.i.tive field.' He leaned forward earnestly, his eyes warmly approving. 'I admire you for going after it, taking it on.'

Smooth words, persuasive words...sincere words?

'I share the rent for a very ordinary, two-bedroom apartment at Ryde. Hardly high cla.s.s,' she stated brusquely, needing to clear up this issue of status.

He smiled ironically. 'When I first came to Sydney, I rented a room in a dump of a place at Surrey Hills. It was all I could afford. I do understand living within one's means, Anne. And I respect it.'

'But it's different for you now, and you're obviously accustomed to its being different,' she argued.

'Yes. And I won't say I'm not glad to be in a position where I can buy most things I want.'

Did he think he could buy her?

Had his money attracted Tanya Wells?

'Things, Anne,' he went on, a more urgent intensity in his voice. 'Like having dinner here whenever I want to. Driving a cla.s.sy car. Taking a trip overseas. Living in luxury. And all of that is good. I like it. But it doesn't answer all the needs I have.'

His eyes burned into hers as he asked, 'Would it answer all yours?'

She flushed. 'I'm not a gold-digger.'

'And I'm not looking for a cheap thrill from you.'

'What do you want with me?' The challenge sliced off her tongue, laced with the cynicism Sue had fed her.

'To know you.'

'There are all sorts of knowing,' she flashed back, her eyes nailing her meaning. 'What sense are you talking about?'

'Every sense.'

She stared at him, desperate to believe he spoke the truth. He held her gaze unflinchingly, beating down any scepticism over his intentions. The tightness in her chest slowly eased. Sue had to be wrong. Nick looked truly genuine in his desire to know more of her than a one-night stand would give him.

'Did some rich guy hurt you, Anne?' he asked quietly.

Again she flushed under his directness. 'Why would you think so?'

'Firstly, you are quite stunningly beautiful. Having you would be an ego boost to many men, and rich guys generally see beauty in a woman as a reflection of their success in life.'

'Do you?'

He shook his head. 'I want more in a woman than skin-deep beauty. I guess you could say I've been taken in by that a couple of times,' he added wryly. 'We all make mistakes. I was just wondering if you'd been taken in, too. It was the idea of my being rich that upset you.'

Her hands fluttered an agitated appeal. 'I hadn't thought about you in those terms. It came as a shock. I felt...foolish.'

He reached across the table and took one of her hands, pressing it into a stillness that was meant to soothe fears, yet the feel of his flesh encasing hers sent a wave of exhilarating warmth through her bloodstream and set off deep tremors of desire for a more intimate touching.

'Give us a chance, Anne. You and me. Is that asking too much?'

'No,' she whispered, barely able to catch her breath. He was gently stroking her palm with his thumb, sparking off electric tingles. The effect was mesmerising. She couldn't shake her mind free of it.

His whole expression emanated a fervent need to convince as he said, 'I feel...'

A waiter interrupted, offering them menus. The moment was lost and Barbie could barely curb her frustration, sensing Nick had been about to reveal something important to her. As it was, he withdrew his hand and turned his attention to the waiter, who proceeded to rattle off 'The Specials' for tonight.

She was too distracted to hear them properly and when Nick asked, 'Do you fancy any of those?' she had to ask the waiter to go through them again.

Even then the food combinations he listed were confusing, unfamiliar. Haute cuisine had not featured largely in her life. Fashionable restaurants like this one were too expensive and she'd never had the time to take an interest in fancy cooking. Rather than reveal her ignorance, she looked to Nick for help.

'What do you recommend?'

'Do you like seafood?'

'Love it.'

'The barbecued calamari in oregano, coriander and lime, and the sole grilled with lemon gra.s.s b.u.t.ter are both excellent here.'

He rattled them off, obviously having no problem at all in remembering the ingredients and accepting them as a good mixture without question. He also clearly expected her to choose a starter and a main meal, regardless of cost.

'Is that what you're having?' she checked.

'Yes.'

'Then I'll have it, too.' She just hoped the herbs and lemon gra.s.s stuff didn't turn her stomach.

'Wine, sir?'