Читать книгу The Holiday Escapes Collection - Сандра Мартон - Страница 41

CHARLOTTE had only just closed her office door when a tall figure stepped out of the shadows of the corridor. She felt her heart leap upwards as the dark penetrating gaze of Damon Latousakis hit hers.

Oh, God, she thought in escalating despair. Please, Stacey, don’t make a sound.

‘I was wondering where you had got to,’ he drawled as he came to stand right in front of her, his expression as inscrutable as a mask.

‘Um…I had to see to some…er…paperwork,’ she said, her throat feeling too tight to even swallow her rising panic.

‘Is this your office? ’he asked, indicating the door she was blocking with her body.

‘Er…yes.’

‘Why don’t we go in and have a little chat?’ he suggested. ‘We have a few minutes before the board assembles.’

Her eyes popped in alarm and she pressed her back against the door. ‘Chat about w-what?’

She stood stock-still as he picked up a long wayward strand of her chestnut hair and ran it through his fingertips as if examining the quality of a skein of silk.

‘About us,’ he said, his eyes burning with something she remembered all too well.

She felt the tremors of reawakened desire rearrange her insides, the hot lava of longing anointing her intimately and her breasts tightening as if they could already feel that hard male mouth sucking on them demandingly.

‘Th-there’s no us, Damon…’ Her voice sounded like a rusty hinge opening. ‘You ended our relationship four years ago, remember?’

‘I remember everything,’ he said, still playing with her hair, his coal-black eyes holding hers. ‘And so do you. I see it in your eyes.’

The silence seemed to throb with memories, dangerously seductive memories that had the ability to destroy Charlotte’s self-control all over again. She had thought herself immune to his devastating allure but, from the first time his dark eyes had sought hers that evening, she had felt the lethal tug of attraction in every one of her pulsing veins.

She suddenly heard the sound of a muffled cough from inside her office. ‘I—I have to p-prepare for the meeting now…’ she said hurriedly and with increased volume in case Stacey coughed again. ‘I—I can meet you later, if you like,’ she tacked on without thinking of the consequences. ‘We can talk afterwards. You know…have a drink…or something…’

He released her hair and stepped back from her with an enigmatic smile. ‘I will look forward to it, Charlotte,’ he said.

She peeled herself from her office door once he began to walk back up the corridor, her chest almost collapsing with relief when he turned the corner for the stairs.

Agreeing to have a drink with Damon Latousakis had been her mistake four years ago; God knew what damage it would do to her now, she thought as she made her way to the boardroom on leaden legs.

Charlotte looked around the museum boardroom a few minutes later and wondered if she was going to need more than a glass of champagne for courage. The way she was feeling, a couple of bottles wasn’t going to be enough to dull the panic racing through her system. Her stomach was threatening to misbehave and her head felt so tight she was sure her skull was going to crack under the pressure.

The late-arriving members and guests were finally milling in, their lively chatter setting her already frayed nerves on edge.

She could see Damon Latousakis standing at the back with a glass of barely touched champagne in his hand. He turned and locked gazes with her, the seductive promise she could see glittering there making her heart stumble in her chest.

‘Members and honoured guests, ladies and gentlemen.’ The museum manager took his place at the microphone, his booming voice thankfully kick-starting Charlotte’s heart once more. ‘It is our very great honour to have with us Mr Damon Latousakis, the head of the Eleni Foundation, who has travelled all the way from the beautiful Greek island of Santorini to be with us this evening.’ He sent an ingratiating smile in Damon’s direction before returning to the microphone.

‘I would now like to call upon our acting museum curator, Ms Charlotte Woodruff, who is going to speak to you about how the exhibition cannot go ahead without the continued support of you—our members and our wonderful sponsors, including the very generous Mr Latousakis. Charlotte?’

Charlotte staggered towards the microphone, her mind going completely blank. What was she going to say? With the distraction of Stacey’s impromptu visit and Damon’s sudden appearance in the corridor she hadn’t had time to prepare a speech.

Think! Think!

The microphone needed lowering to her height of five foot five, which gave her a few precious seconds to get her brain into gear.

‘Members and honoured guests, ladies and gentlemen…’ she began and somehow continued her speech without once looking in Damon Latousakis’s direction, but she could feel his black diamond gaze on her all the same.

Finally it was over.

She stepped down from the podium on legs that felt like not quite set jelly and took the glass of champagne Diane was holding out for her.

Diane spirited her away to a quiet corner. ‘What did I tell you? You did a fabulous job. God, Damon Latousakis was looking at you the whole time like he was seeing right through that dress. You might think he’s arrogant, but it sure looks as if you’ve taken his fancy.’

Charlotte took a deep slug of her drink, more to put moisture in her dry mouth than for Dutch courage. ‘I’m sure you’re mistaken. He doesn’t like me one little bit,’ she said, letting her worried gaze drift to where Damon was leaning down to hear what one of the board members was saying.

‘What do you mean?’ Diane frowned as she followed the line of Charlotte’s vision.

‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this,’ Charlotte said, gripping her glass even more tightly.

Diane gave her a probing look. ‘Have you met him before?’

Charlotte didn’t answer but her expression must have given her away for Diane suddenly crowed, ‘I’ve got it! You met him in Greece when you went to do some research for your studies, right?’

Charlotte put her half-drunk champagne down on a side table and turned around so she couldn’t see the man who had torn her heart from her chest.

‘We have a past, yes. But I’d rather not talk about it. Sorry, Diane. It’s just too painful.’

‘Don’t worry, my lips are sealed,’ Diane said. ‘Uh-oh, he’s coming back over. I’d better scoot.’

‘No, don’t leave me!’ Charlotte made a quick grab for her colleague’s arm but it was too late. Diane had already been nabbed by one of the members, who was leading her away to show her something of interest on the far side of the room.

‘It is time for you to fulfil your promise, Charlotte,’ Damon Latousakis said, towering over her, his expression set in intractable lines. ‘Let us go and have that drink, hmm?’

‘Um…I…I’m not sure that would be appropriate right at this moment…I have some more people to see and—’

He stepped closer so she had to crane her neck to keep eye contact, which she could only assume was a deliberate attempt to intimidate her. He had always used his exceptional height to his advantage and now was clearly no different. He towered head and shoulders over everyone else in the room, but with him standing so close she felt even shorter than she really was. And not just shorter, but stripped of any scrap of power she had fooled herself into believing she had.

‘You are not reneging on our arrangement, are you?’ he asked.

‘I—I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to revisit the past…’ She moistened her mouth and added shakily, ‘I’ve had a long day and I think it might be best if I go straight home…’

His eyes burned down into hers with a warning she knew was going to be impossible to ignore. ‘Perhaps it would be a timely reminder at this point to inform you that if you do not follow through on your promise to have a drink with me, you could find yourself without an exhibition and, dare I say, without a job?’

It was true, Charlotte thought with a sickening wave of panic. If she did anything to compromise the exhibition’s success her one-off chance at being head museum curator was going to remain exactly that—one-off. She would never be considered for promotion again and, as he’d intimated—perhaps even fired.

‘The evening is drawing to a close,’ Damon said. ‘I have a limousine waiting outside. You and I will leave in it together and go back to my hotel, where we will have our private discussion and that little drink, understood?’

She swallowed the rough-edged lump in her throat. ‘If you insist,’ she said with undiluted resentment, her eyes flashing her ire.

‘Good,’ he said, taking her by the elbow. ‘Let us go right away. Smile for the cameras, agape mou. It would not look good if you were seen in tomorrow’s papers scowling at me as if I were the devil himself.’

Charlotte didn’t trust herself to answer, but she could feel the touch of his fingers burn through the winter sleeves of her velvet evening gown, the subtle suggestion of force underpinning his hold striking a deep note of unease in her.

The stretch limousine was, as he’d said, waiting outside the museum’s entrance and she made her way down the sandstone steps on legs that were struggling to keep her upright.

Once they were inside the car, Damon closed the panel separating the driver from the rear and joined her on the seat and his weight as he sat back on the plush leather caused her to tip sideways towards him. She put out a hand to stabilise herself but it landed on his strong, muscular thigh. She whipped her hand away but he caught it in mid-air and put it back down on his thigh, but much higher this time.

Charlotte’s eyes flared with panic as she felt his body stir beneath her hand. She could feel her cheeks turning a hundred shades of red as she tried to ease herself away but he was having none of it.

‘What is wrong, Charlotte?’ he asked. ‘Do you not remember how you used to slip your hot little hand inside my trousers in the past? Is that what you were hoping to do tonight, touching me like that to remind me of what we had shared in case I had forgotten?’

She felt a burst of liquid fire explode between her thighs as a host of memories assailed her. Oh, God! He had taught her such intimacies. She had learned under a master, her body singing with the tune of his touch each and every time.

‘And what about your equally scorching little tongue?’ he continued, his eyes still lasering hers. ‘Can you still taste me in your mouth, agape mou?’

She stared at him, unable to speak, unable to move, barely able to breathe.

He slowly brought his mouth to the side of her neck, his lips moving against her sensitive skin as he spoke. ‘I can still taste you. Your saltiness and your sweetness are branded on my tongue.’

Charlotte’s belly prickled with a thousand tiny needles of desire, her skin heating from the inside out. She tried to ease away but he continued his caress of her neck until he came to the upper curve of her right breast where the low-cut design of her gown gave him perfect access. She sucked in a sharp little breath as his tongue licked the exposed flesh, the faint but exquisite rasp on her skin sending every rational thought out of her head.

‘You still taste of passion, Charlotte,’ he said, his voice a low guttural growl as his hand reached for her bra-less breast. ‘I can feel it beating beneath your skin.’

His hand took the weight of her breast while his thumb commandeered her already pert nipple, his touch hovering somewhere between pleasure and pain.

There was a hint of cruelty to his mouth as his head came towards hers, but she did nothing to try and escape it.

Just one kiss, she gave herself mental permission.

Just one kiss…

His lips were like fire on hers, his tongue an invading force as it ensnared hers in a duelling dance that sent her senses into overdrive. Her mouth clung to his, her free hand coming up to his head to bury her fingers in the black silk of his hair, her breasts pressed tight against his chest, her tongue flicking against his unashamedly and with escalating urgency.

He pressed her back into the leather seat, his mouth leaving hers to suckle on the breast he’d already freed with his hand.

Charlotte arched her back as his tongue curled around her nipple, the warm cave of his mouth pulling on her until everything went out of focus. She clamped her eyes shut and whimpered with pleasure as his mouth drew on her more fervently. She felt his erection swelling beneath her hand and, with a brazenness she had no idea she still possessed, she began stroking, up and down, until she had the satisfaction of hearing him groan his need out loud.

His mouth came back to hers, this time with a heat and fire that was devastating. It woke every sizzling memory in her brain of their passionate time together under the burning heat of the Santorini summer sun. Her head burst with the memory of swallowing him for the first time, relieving him of the unbearable pressure that even now she could feel building beneath the ministrations of her hand.

Damon tore his mouth off hers to stare down at her with glittering eyes. ‘So it is as I suspected from the moment I saw you again. There is a fire still burning in your belly for me, as there is one in mine for you. It has never quite gone out, eh, Charlotte?’

She reared back in shock. ‘No! That’s not true.’

He caught her hand and brought it up to his mouth, his lips playing with each of her fingertips until he paused to ask, ‘But the thing I would like to know is, what price have you put on yourself now?’

Charlotte looked at him, her heart kicking like an unbroken thoroughbred in her chest. ‘P-price?’

His smile contained a hint of ruthlessness and his fingers tightened on hers. ‘You have surely moved beyond the pickpocket stage, have you not? You are after a much bigger haul this time around.’

‘You’re wrong,’ she said, lifting her chin in pride as she tugged out of his grasp. ‘I’ve never stolen anything from you or your mother. I was framed. I’m sure of it. Someone wanted me to be found guilty but it doesn’t mean I was.’

‘So you are still lying,’ he said, his dark eyes flickering with anger. ‘I would have thought you would have rid yourself of the habit by now.’

‘I’m not lying!’

‘I know what you are like, Charlotte. You are an expert at deceit. Four long years have passed and you are still the most convincing liar I have ever met. You do innocence so well I am sure you would confuse even a polygraph machine. But I am not a fool. I can see exactly what you are up to.’

Charlotte felt sick with apprehension. Her head swam with it, great swirls of it moving around so erratically she wondered if she might faint. She pinched the bridge of her nose to keep control, her whole body shaking beside the rigidity of his as the limousine drew to a halt outside one of Sydney’s premier hotels.

‘Get out,’ he commanded as the doorman opened the door for her.

She got out on wobbly legs and came to where Damon was waiting for her, his hand reaching for hers, the latent strength of his fingers as they enclosed hers leaving her with no chance of escape even if she’d had the courage or lack of sense to try.

The lift began to sweep them up to the penthouse floor but still Charlotte couldn’t unlock her frozen throat. It was filled with the dry ice of dread as the number for each floor was illuminated by a bright green light. They should be flashing red, she thought as she swallowed convulsively again.

Red for danger…