Читать книгу Bedroom Bargains of Revenge: Bought for Revenge, Bedded for Pleasure / Bedded and Wedded for Revenge / The Italian Boss's Mistress of Revenge - Trish Morey, Emma Darcy - Страница 13

HE MADE no move on her.

All weekend …not the slightest suggestion of a move.

For much of it Sally had been racked with tension, expecting him to act on the pull of attraction she was unable to hide. When he had made her laugh over dinner on Friday night, his vivid blue eyes twinkling an appreciative tease as he remarked on Jeannette’s delicious veal dish being the perfect offering of the fatted calf for the prodigal son; in the stables on Saturday morning after an exhilarating ride; relaxing on sunlounges after a swim in the pool when she couldn’t help admiring his athletic physique, sleek-wet masculinity glistening, urging a desire to touch.

So many moments of acute vulnerability on her part—a dangerous electricity racing through her veins—and she knew he was aware of her reaction to him. His eyes simmered with his knowledge of it, a silent satisfaction that seemed to hum around her, yet not once did he take advantage of it, nor even speak of it.

If he wanted her as his “grateful little mistress,” his lack of action on that front made no sense. Unless he was content to wait, get to know her better, enjoy building up her anticipation of what it might be like with him. Or maybe he didn’t want that with her at all, just a place to come home to now and then without any sexual complications.

He’d given her a fleeting thank-you kiss on the cheek before leaving in the helicopter, certainly nothing to get fussed about. Yet after he’d gone, she couldn’t settle to doing anything, wandering around the house, thinking about him until Jeanette called her for dinner, a light informal meal of quiche and salad in the kitchen, more than enough after the long, sumptuous lunch she’d shared with Jack.

“He’s charming,” Jeanette declared. “Lovely manners. A real gentleman. I don’t know why Lady Ellen took against him.” Then with an arch look at Sally, “And very handsome, too, I must say.”

“Sensible chap,” Graham chimed in approvingly. “Took an interest in everything. Got himself a thorough understanding of what’s involved in running this place.”

They liked him. There’d been nothing not to like. He’d taken the time to have long chats with both Graham and Tim Fogarty who’d been the groom for Sally’s horses for years and lived in a self-contained apartment attached to the stables. Any worries the staff had about Jack’s takeover had been completely allayed this weekend. He’d assured himself of a ready welcome by all of them any time he chose to visit in the future, though that wouldn’t be for a while.

“I won’t come back until the redecorating is done,” he’d told her.

Sally didn’t know how quickly his interior decorator would accomplish the changes in the master bedroom, but she figured it would probably take a few weeks. It was stupid to feel so …so let down by the fact that Jack was not hot to trot with her. He had a busy life in the city, maybe a woman who meant more to him there, a beautiful woman who was sharing a bed with him on a regular basis. No need for a country mistress.

She should be feeling relieved by the lack of sexual pressure from him, glad that her mother had been wrong. At least, when Jane telephoned her somewhat anxiously at eight o’clock, Sally had nothing bad to report.

“Has he gone?” came the first whispered question, as though Jack might overhear.

“Yes. He flew out at five-thirty.”

“Are you all right, Sally? He didn’t …”

“No. Nothing like that,” she assured her sister. “As Jeannette remarked, Jack Maguire was a real gentleman. And Graham and Tim were very impressed with the interest he took in everything to do with the property.”

A huge sigh of relief. “I’ve been so worried all weekend. After what Mum said about his intentions …”

“I told you there was no need to worry. I can handle myself, Jane. The showjumping scene is loaded with womanisers and I’m well practised at fending them off.” Easy when you don’t find them attractive. “Anyway, Jack didn’t give me a problem. On the contrary, he even took a copy of the upcoming showjumping events I want to enter and said he would time his visits not to interfere with my schedule. And it’s okay with him for you to visit me here.”

She didn’t add the rider—not when he was in residence—because it was easy enough to make arrangements which didn’t clash with his time at the property, and Jane would only start worrying about his intentions again.

“He sounds …nice.”

Nice was not a word Sally could apply to Jack Maguire. Her instincts were sensing a dark power in him which he kept leashed until the opportune moment came to unleash it. Just being with him filled her with a nervous excitement which was impossible to ignore or control.

“I wish Mum had let him into our lives,” Jane went on ruefully. “It’s not knowing him that’s been the worry.”

“Well, at least he doesn’t feel vengeful towards us, Jane.”

“No. Obviously not. He’s being very generous. I just don’t understand why, when we’ve done nothing for him.”

“Maybe I’m doing it for him now, making him feel welcome here.”

Jane heaved a sigh. “I hope that’s all it is, Sally.”

“Stop worrying. How’s everything at your end? Has Mum been in touch?”

“No. You?”

“No. But I’ll have to call her.”

She explained about Jack wanting the master bedroom redecorated to his taste and they chatted on, trying to fill the void of having lost the family situation they had been accustomed to all their lives, holding tightly to their sisterhood. Their parents were no longer there to influence or support them. They had to hang on to each other, though Sally couldn’t confide her feelings about Jack Maguire to Jane, which made her feel very alone. Nevertheless, she’d chosen this route into her future—the best route since she could help her sister—so she had to stick with it. Besides, they were probably foolish feelings, anyway.

She did her best to forget them in the weeks leading up to the Maitland Show where she’d be competing in two showjumping events, the main one giving points towards securing a place in the World Cup team. Training her horses up to peak performance level kept her busy and focused on what was important to her.

On the home front she organised a removalist to take the bedroom furniture her mother wanted stored for future use. Jack’s interior decorator came in, took a lot of measurements, had the red carpet taken up and carted away, brought in a tradesman to repaint the walls and promised to notify Sally when the new carpet, curtains and furniture would be installed.

Jack did not contact her personally, nor did she contact him. He knew about the Maitland Show and she had no qualms about loading up the horse truck and heading off for the weekend with Tim Fogarty, who always helped her with the horses on these excursions, feeding them, grooming them, setting up the exercise pen and generally seeing they were ready for her to ride. Tim was in his fifties, an experienced stable hand who’d once worked for a racehorse trainer. There was nothing he didn’t know about horses, and Sally had a comfortable relationship with him, always respecting whatever advice he gave her.

There was accommodation for him at one end of the horse truck and she stayed at a local motel, usually booked out by other riders wanting a bit of social life in between training and competing. This time she planned to keep to herself, avoiding the gossipy crowd and their inevitable curiosity about the outcome from her father’s death. Most of them would imagine she was an heiress, and they’d be all agog if she had to explain her real situation. It was none of their business and she didn’t need that kind of distraction when she was competing.

As it was she had to deal with expressions of sympathy, but the aloof air she maintained protected her from more personal approaches. Until after she won a third place with her second-string horse and George Ponsonby decided she’d be in a more accessible mood with this success under her belt.

She’d no sooner dismounted and handed the horse over to Tim than George pounced, giving her a playful smack on the backside and flashing his whiter than white smile, designed to curl the toes of any female fool enough to fall for his boyish good looks and Casanova charm. Having competed in two Olympic Games, he was a fixture on the showjumping scene, and at thirty, had already been married and divorced twice to heiresses who’d found him cheating on them. Apparently she was his next target, no longer having a protective father in the picture.

“Great seat, Sally! How about plonking it on me tonight? I’m available. Good time guaranteed. Though since you must now be rolling in scads of money, you can shout for the drinks.”

Before she could draw breath enough to pour scorn on his arrogant confidence, another voice cut in, a hard challenging voice that brooked no opposition.

“Miss Maguire is not available tonight. She will be dining with me.”

Jack!

The shock of seeing him kicked her heart and left her mouth agape. George was stunned, too, not expecting to be challenged on what he considered his stamping ground. They both stared at Jack as he strolled forward to claim her company, taller than George and strongly emitting the dark power Sally associated with him—not a man to be thwarted on anything he aimed for.

Did George feel it, too?

He backed off fast. “Sorry. Didn’t know Sal was spoken for,” he gabbled and shot off to find easier game for a roll in the hay.

Jack paused to watch him flee the scene, surrendering the contest without so much as a backward glance, then cocked a sardonic eyebrow at Sally. “Just trying it on, was he?”

She scooped in a quick breath to relieve the tightness of her chest, which was being pummelled by a wild heartbeat. “George tries it on with every woman he fancies,” she answered dryly. “He’s incapable of keeping his trousers zipped.”

“No serious attachment,” Jack concluded.

“Never has been. Never will be with him,” Sally said, shrugging to show the situation with George was totally unimportant and not worth discussing. “What are you doing here, Jack?”

“Came to watch you compete.” His eyes drilled hers. “Am I in the way of some other attachment you have?”

“No. The riders are a fairly incestuous group. They tend to use sex as a bit of relaxation after the heat of competition. I don’t like that kind of meaningless intimacy so I steer clear of it.”

Why she was pouring out this intimate information she didn’t know. Somehow it seemed important for him to understand she was very discriminating about whom she shared a bed with.

“So you don’t sleep around on the showjumping circuit.”

Sexy satisfaction in his voice.

A wave of heat ran through her. “I’m not an easy lay anywhere, Jack,” she flashed at him, suddenly feeling he might be measuring her for his bed and not wanting him to think she would just fall into it with him at his bidding.

He smiled, not the least bit put out by her aggressive statement, amused by her need to make it. “I can get an easy lay any time I want one, Sally. That’s not what brought me to this show today. I simply wanted to see you doing your thing, and I was about to congratulate you on your third place when George’s familiarity with you distracted my intention.”

Confusion swirled over the sexual tension he raised in her. Most probably his interest was simply … interest. Something new. Something different from the life he usually led. She took a deep breath to feed some clearing oxygen into her muddled mind and managed a smile back at him.

“Well you certainly dealt with that effectively. I’ve never seen George so completely intimidated.”

He laughed. “I was offended on your behalf. Not only was the guy a groper but a freeloader, as well.”

Offended.

She looked at him consideringly. “So that was your protective big-brother act?”

“No.” His grin set her hormones buzzing again. “That was me wanting you to myself.” He waved towards the refreshment van. “I thought we could have a coffee together before your next event.”

“I’d rather have a long cold drink.” She was hot, and not just from competing in the show ring.

“Whatever you like,” he said equably.

She took off her riding helmet and ran her fingers through her hair as they moved towards the van. He watched her fluff out the rioting curls with a sensual little smile on his lips.

“Can’t blame George for finding you sexy,” he remarked admiringly. “Your hair is like a beacon on top of that figure-hugging navy jacket, not to mention the fawn pants fitting the bottom half of you like a second skin.”

Which made her acutely aware of her body and its quivery response to his highly male sex appeal, heightened by the black jeans and black T-shirt he wore, the force of his personality making every other man totally insignificant.

“It’s the official outfit,” she answered defensively. “And let me tell you George’s interest is more in my inheritance than me. Except I haven’t got one. And you butted in before I could correct his assumption.”

“Ah! Tricky business having bags of wealth behind you.” His eyes twinkled with wicked teasing. “At least you’ll know from now on you’re wanted for yourself.”

Was there desire for her simmering behind that twinkle? Her mind whirled with the frustration of not knowing, then seized on the chance to find out more about him. “What about you, Jack? Are there lots of women panting for what you’ve got? How do you sort them out?”

He shrugged. “Sooner or later that issue sorts itself out.”

The cynicism in his voice prompted her to ask, “You’ve never wanted to marry?”

He slid her a look that cut straight to her heart. “Are you angling to marry me, Sally?”

It shocked her into stopping dead. Agitated by his thinking it was possible, even probable, she swung to confront him with a rush of anguished protest. “No! Don’t ever think that! I’m not like my mother! I wouldn’t ever try to trap you or …or …”

His mouth curled sardonically. “So Lady Ellen suggested it.”

The certainty in his eyes made it impossible to deny. She had the sickening sense that he’d known it, anyway, known before she’d blurted out the too-revealing words about her mother. Her cheeks burned with the humiliating truth.

“What was the plan?” he bored in. “Lure me to your bed and get yourself pregnant?”

She grimaced at the accuracy of his deduction. “She said you had to want me or you wouldn’t have set up the situation with me at the property, and I could secure my future by … by giving you whatever you wanted and … and trapping you into fatherhood.” Her eyes begged his belief. “But I’d never have a baby for that reason, Jack. Please …don’t think I would.”

Had he been thinking it? Was that why he’d kept his distance from her?

“And I wouldn’t marry anyone for money,” she added vehemently. “I want …”

“What do you want, Sally?” he pushed.

She heaved a huge sigh and gave up her heartfelt truth. “I want there to be love between me and the man I marry. A deep and abiding love.”

“And while you’re waiting for this love—” he lifted a hand and gently stroked her burning cheek, an ironic little smile playing on his lips “—will you fill in the time with me?”

What did he mean?

Love and marriage had nothing to do with any relationship they might have.

He was being very clear on that.

But how did he envisage filling the present gap in her life?

“Did you set all this up just to have sex with me, Jack?” she blurted out, driven by the need to get the situation absolutely straight in her mind.

He mused over the question for several moments before answering, “No. I wanted to know you, Sally Maguire,” he said on a wryly whimsical note. “Know all about you …the way you live your life. Which is why I’m here, watching you compete.”

The way she lived her life …as the adopted daughter of his father … the life he might have had if he hadn’t been taken away from it. Kept away.

The injustice to him tugged at her emotions again. She wanted to give him what he hadn’t had, wanted to give him the sense of belonging. He stirred so many desires in her, and the bottom-line truth was she didn’t want to shut him out on any level. Open the door, Sally, she fiercely told herself, and let him in.

“Do you mind?” he asked quietly. “I really enjoyed seeing you ride. It even made me groan in sympathy when your horse knocked the top rail on the triple jump. You were right on the time clock to win if he’d sailed clear. But if you find my interest disturbing …”

“No,” she answered quickly.

“Then will you share the excitement of your day over dinner with me tonight?”

“Yes. I’d like that,” she said decisively. “Thank you.”

It was an opportunity to learn more about him, too. Knowing this man—all that he was, how he lived his life—seemed more important than anything else.

He nodded. “A pleasure I’ll look forward to.”

Then he smiled.

It was a smile that swept the dark churning clouds right out of her mind, replacing them with a tingling anticipation for the time they would spend together.