Mistress to the Tycoon Read online

  ‘Cooper, I forgot something.’

  He paused with his hand on the doorknob. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Bring a fig leaf. It might come in handy for camouflage.’

  She tried to keep a straight face and couldn’t, her laughter following him out the door as his exasperated expression told her exactly what he thought of her sense of humour.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘CAN I take a look?’

  Cooper wiggled his fingers and toes in an effort to restore circulation to his extremities, grateful that this modelling gig would be over soon.

  Not that he didn’t enjoy spending one-on-one time with Ariel, who surprised him at every turn, but he needed to seal the deal before next Friday. He had a feeling the investors wouldn’t be too impressed if he stalled again.

  As for his dad, he’d been close to up and leaving, contract or not, several times this week. They didn’t just not see eye to eye any more, they seemed to be on a different plane altogether.

  ‘Stop moving! I need to capture the arch of your right foot tonight and I’m done.’

  She glared at him over the easel, dabbing her brush in the paints on a worn palette next to her before returning her attention to the canvas.

  Even with a smudge of paint on her cheek, her curls escaping their customary bandanna—zebra stripes tonight—and falling across her forehead, and dark circles under her eyes courtesy of how hard she was pushing to finish this portrait in record time, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  From the bottom of her pink raffia ballet shoes to her broderie-anglaise bolero worn over a chartreuse ribbed singlet, she looked adorable, a bright spark in his otherwise dull day.

  As for those shorts she wore…for the last three nights, tonight included, he’d been subjected to long, gorgeous legs poking out from truly ugly shorts. Vintage tartan checks, awful blue flowers against mustard backgrounds and purple polka dots against turquoise. Thankfully, her eccentric taste in clothes hadn’t blinded him to the beauty of her luscious legs and he’d done a fair bit of his own looking while she’d been studying him.

  ‘When you say you’re done, is that done as in finished completely?’

  ‘You wish,’ she said, absentmindedly twisting a curl around a finger while dabbing at the canvas.

  Actually, he didn’t.

  The logical, business side of his brain was yelling ‘woo-hoo’ but the emotional side he’d deliberately shut down wished they could stay ensconced in her cosy studio for ever.

  ‘How much longer?’

  Exhaling loudly, she stabbed her brush into a glass jar of water, rolled her neck a few times, stood up and arched her back. ‘Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?’

  ‘Anyone ever tell you you’re great at avoiding answering questions?’

  After another catlike stretch, which had him averting his eyes in record time when she finally looked at him, she said, ‘If you must know, I’m pretty much done. I just need to get a few details of your face completed and that’s it.’

  ‘Tonight?’

  His heart sank. As much as he liked being here, he’d had a long day at the office and needed to finalise a report for a presentation first thing Monday morning.

  She laughed, a genuine loud, throaty chuckle that made him want to join in. ‘With you sounding so enthusiastic, I guess not. Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll make us a hot drink?’

  Cooper tried not to screw up his face. If he had to endure one more cup of her foul-tasting herbal brews or equally horrid coffee, he’d happily walk away from this deal here and now.

  ‘I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we grab a coffee at the café across the street? The place looks new; they could probably do with the business.’

  ‘Before you tear it down, you mean?’

  Her smile had vanished and he couldn’t tell if she was serious or joking. Either way, he was too tired to argue.

  ‘Whatever you decide to do, I’m heading over there for the largest strong black they’ve got. I have a long night ahead of me.’

  A flicker of remorse crossed her face and she disguised it by tidying up her work space. ‘Hot date, huh?’

  ‘Yeah, the hottest,’ he said, sliding his oldest cotton T-shirt over his head and slipping into faded denim. ‘Just my slinky little laptop and me.’

  ‘Do you enjoy what you do?’

  He stepped out from behind the screen to find her perched on the stool he’d just vacated, a curious look on her paint-smudged face and her spectacular legs tucked up on the rung underneath.

  ‘It’s challenging. I like seeing things develop and take shape from the infant stages right through to the finished product. You can identify with that, surely?’

  He expected a vehement rebuttal, but to his surprise she nodded, a tiny frown between her brows as if she was pondering what he’d said.

  ‘Yeah, I can. Apart from the whole creative side of art, I love seeing something develop before my eyes. It’s often hard work but the reward is worth it.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  They locked stares, his challenging, hers curious.

  However, before she could chastise him any more for being a developer or tease him about his uptight ways, he turned away and shrugged into his leather jacket.

  ‘Right, I have a mega-strong black with my name all over it. I’m out of here.’

  He sent her a casual wave, a major part of him wishing she’d join him. Sure, they’d chatted a fair bit while she’d worked but he still didn’t know what made her tick. She’d deliberately kept things light between them and he hadn’t pushed, despite hoping to get more of an idea behind her absolute refusal to sell the gallery.

  There had to be more to it, more than a promise to a dead aunt.

  He’d bide his time, knowing the pitch he’d prepared to deliver would convince her. If there was one thing he had learned, the gorgeous woman with the kooky dress sense had a brain in her head, and hopefully, she’d see his proposal for what it was: good business, smart business and a win-win solution for them all.

  He’d barely taken a step when she slid off the stool, picked up a giant straw holdall that looked like it could easily contain the proverbial sink and then some, and smoothed her wrinkled shorts.

  ‘I think I’ll come with you. I’ve been cooped up in this place working every night for a week straight. A change of scene will do me good.’

  ‘So it’s not my scintillating company that enticed you to join me?’

  ‘Honestly? No.’

  She matched his sardonic expression, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze head-on.

  The minute he reached out to touch her cheek, he knew it was a mistake.

  ‘You have a paint smudge right here.’

  But then, he’d hardly been his usual rational, conventional self since setting foot in this place.

  He slid his finger down her cheek, slowly, gently, her velvety smooth skin a magnet to his touch.

  He should’ve pulled away the second her luminous green eyes widened and her lush mouth formed a small O, but instead he lingered, savouring the close contact, the intimacy enveloping them as surely as the heady perfume she wore.

  ‘Th-thanks,’ she said, stepping away to rub at her cheek, her eyes not leaving his. ‘Just give me a second to get cleaned up and I’ll be right with you.’

  ‘No problems.’

  However, he lied.

  His reaction to the beautiful artist was definitely a problem, a major one.

  He had no qualms about her focussing on the business side of the deal he proposed, but the million dollar question was, could he?

  Ariel snuggled into the comfy lounge-style chair, loving the homely ambience of The Cypress Tree. The new owners had done wonders with the place and she wasn’t surprised to see it packed on a Friday night.

  ‘What’ll you have?’

  ‘I’ll have a decaf skinny soy latte, please.’

  Cooper stared at her in disbelief. ‘You’re kidding, ri
ght? Tell me that’s not a real drink.’

  Ariel chuckled. ‘To a boring, caffeine-swilling, strong black coffee hick like you, I guess not.’

  Shaking his head, he placed their order with a waitress sporting a magenta Mohawk and enough facial piercings to keep the local silversmiths in business for the next decade. Though the punk hairstyle didn’t do much for her, Ariel admired the teenager’s gold lamé hot-pants and wanted to ask her which boutique she frequented.

  ‘At the risk of sounding like the hick you just accused me of being, is it fancy-dress night at this place?’

  Ariel smiled, knowing exactly what he meant but wanting to tease him a little. ‘Why would you say that?’

  Cooper’s gaze traversed the cosy café, his eyes growing wider by the minute. ‘For starters, there’s a guy over there wearing cow-print leather pants and a red vest with nothing underneath. Then there’s another guy wearing orange leather chaps over denim shorts. Throw in the overabundance of black spandex, gold sequins and silver metallic objects protruding from every body part imaginable, and do you blame me for asking?’

  Ariel shrugged, suddenly saddened by the huge gulf between them. They really were from opposite ends of the planet in every way: their tastes, their occupations, their thinking.

  Yet she still found him attractive. Go figure?

  Darn hormones!

  ‘I don’t blame you for asking. I’m not surprised a man like you wouldn’t know about a cultural hub like Brunswick Street. Take another look around.’

  She swept her hand wide in an all-encompassing gesture. ‘This place is where it’s at. Hip, funky, brimming with life. If you took a walk up the street and actually looked into the buildings rather than dreaming about tearing them down, you’d see a hundred places like this. Jazz bars, tapas bars, Latin American clubs, comedy clubs and restaurants from all around the world. It’s a hub of incredible contrasts and I love it.’

  ‘You really think I’m some sort of ruthless cretin, don’t you?’

  He spoke softly and she had to lean forward to hear him over the din of chattering patrons and Spanish guitar music.

  Thankfully, the waitress arrived at that moment and deposited two enormous steaming mugs in front of them, giving her time to phrase her answer carefully. She wanted to be honest but something about his watchful, brooding expression told her that now wasn’t the time to be too brutal.

  ‘Look, I have this habit of shooting off at the mouth. You know, honesty is the best policy and all that. Guess I just realised exactly how different we are.’

  Ariel made a mad grab at her latte and took a huge sip, scalding or not. There was honesty and there was honesty and from what she’d just said, he might take it she was interested in him. If she burned her tongue on the hot coffee, it mightn’t be a bad thing. She might actually shut up for two seconds.

  ‘You got that right,’ he said, a speculative gleam in his eyes.

  Great. The guy wasn’t stupid and he’d picked up on her interest just as she’d suspected.

  ‘One more session should see us done,’ she said, gratefully hiding behind her latte mug.

  ‘Make that two sessions.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘One for you, one for me. My business proposal? Remember, that one tiny detail you seem to have forgotten?’

  ‘Oh, that. You’re right, minor details.’ She smiled, showing she intended no malice. ‘Maybe I’ll be too exhausted after finishing the portrait to hear what you’ve got to say.’

  ‘And maybe I’ll spread nasty rumours about the artist getting up close and personal with her model.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare!’

  ‘Try me.’

  By his challenging smile, she knew he was kidding but somehow, she didn’t want to test him. Besides, the thought of what he’d suggested sounded way too good.

  ‘Do you always get the final word?’

  She could’ve backed down but then, where was the fun in that? If there was one thing guaranteed to get her fired up it was a challenge, particularly from a guy who probably always got what he wanted.

  Rather than answering her mild dig, he changed the subject altogether.

  ‘You mentioned earlier that all you need to finish is some facial details?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Do we have to do that in the studio?’

  He finally reached for his coffee and drained the mug in one go, when what she really wanted to see was his entire face and read where a strange question like that was leading.

  ‘The studio is where I do my portrait work.’

  Though that wasn’t entirely true. She’d often taken a sketch pad down to the St Kilda foreshore or Albert Park Lake, capturing whatever scene took her fancy whether it be a person, animal or view. New surroundings inspired her and she loved it.

  But, somehow, the thought of sketching Cooper outside her studio seemed way too personal.

  Like this.

  One-on-one time in a cosy café, sitting across from his sexy smiles and piercing blue eyes, definitely entered the realm of too personal and made her forget one very important point.

  This guy was the enemy.

  No matter how charming, how glib, how sexy, he was here for one reason and one reason only: to tear her world apart. And she’d be a darn sight smarter to concentrate on that salient fact rather than the intense colour of his eyes.

  ‘Too bad. Seeing as tomorrow is the weekend and it promises to be a perfect one, I thought it would be good to get a change of scenery. Don’t know about you but I need to shake off my moon tan and catch some sun.’

  He held his chin and turned his face from side to side, a half-smile on his face. ‘It would be a good opportunity for you to study my exceptional profile in some real light. You know, to put the finishing touches on the masterpiece and all.’

  She shouldn’t encourage him, she really shouldn’t.

  But who could resist a man with a smart mouth like that?

  ‘Where did you have in mind?’

  Cooper winked and tapped the side of his nose in true conspirator fashion. ‘Why don’t you leave that up to me? Who knows, this boring hick might surprise you yet. Pick you up on Sunday around ten.’

  With that he stood up, took a final glance around the café, sent her a sexy smile and headed out the door, leaving her wondering if she’d taken leave of her senses.

  Painting Cooper was one thing.

  Spending Sunday morning with the infuriating man, another.

  Think of the finished portrait…think of the money…

  Instead, all she could think about was how denim did incredible things to his butt and how stupid she was for noticing.

  Worse yet, how in just under a week she liked this guy more than she’d liked any guy before.

  Not good.

  And she had a feeling that by spending her precious Sunday morning with him, things were about to get a whole lot worse.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘WELL, aren’t you just full of original ideas this morning?’

  Cooper smiled at Ariel and held open the door to Hideout, the funkiest café he could find in Brunswick Street. ‘Hey, you were the one who said I needed to check out what this precinct has to offer, so here we are.’

  ‘Wise guy,’ she said, her smile warming him better than the sun’s rays had for the last hour while he’d sat on Brighton Beach, more relaxed than he’d been in a long while as she’d studied his face, her fingers flying over her sketch-pad to capture his likeness.

  He’d loved the ocean once, had made a weekly trek to some of Victoria’s best surf beaches all within an hour’s drive from the Central Business District. However, since starting work at Vance Corp he’d been too busy proving himself, putting in the hours, to chill out. He wanted to be the best and it came at a price: limited down time and alienating the one guy who should’ve been cheering him on rather than hating him for it.

  ‘We don’t have to do the brunch thing if you don’t want to,’ Ariel sa
id, a tiny frown puckering her forehead as she searched his face for reassurance. ‘I’ve got what I needed to finish the portrait so you’re obligation-free now.’

  ‘Let’s eat.’

  It wasn’t her fault his mood had soured courtesy of thoughts of his dad’s hang-ups. Besides, he wanted to make sure this final session ended on a happy note considering the next time they met he’d be pitching his plans for the gallery.

  ‘As long as it’s not my head you’re biting off,’ she said, sending him a knowing glance that said she hadn’t bought his abrupt brush-off for a second.

  ‘I promise to be nice.’

  He led the way to the closest table, which happened to be a purple, kidney-shaped one boasting lemon vinyl chairs and a cartoon-like backdrop. Like everything else in this street, the Hideout café was bright, out there and eclectic.

  Ariel fit right in with her denim shorts, indigo silk camisole top and rope espadrilles, whereas he stuck out like a beacon in his conservative navy cargo pants and white T-shirt.

  Then again, he’d never fit in around here. Orange leather chaps just weren’t his thing.

  ‘See anything you fancy?’

  To his amazement, Ariel blushed and toyed with a long blonde curl that persistently bounced in the vicinity of her right ear.

  ‘I’ll have the mushroom omelette.’

  ‘And let me guess. A skinny decaf soy latte chaser?’

  She tilted her nose in the air and sent him an imperious look. ‘Ha! You don’t know me at all. I’ll have a wheatgrass, orange and ginger juice, please.’

  The thought of all those ingredients blended together made him want to forgo the big fry-up he was about to order. ‘Anyone ever tell you you’re a health freak?’

  Rather than bristling as he’d expected, she leaned back against the vinyl booth and chuckled. ‘I’d rather be a health freak than any other kind of freak.’

  ‘You are one interesting woman, Ariel Wallace,’ he said, locking eyes with her over his menu, wondering if she noticed the growing attraction sizzling between them or it had just been too damn long since he’d dated.

  He’d been so busy lately trying to get out of Vance Corporation that he’d neglected his social life. Once this deal went through, he’d make sure he remedied that. Though somehow, he had a feeling he’d need quite a few dates with women the antithesis of Ariel to make him forget her.