Читать книгу The Abby Green Modern Collection - Эбби Грин, ABBY GREEN - Страница 17

BY THE time they were eating their desserts, Maggie was relatively relaxed. Caleb had been charm personified, her mother suitably impressed and Maggie had kept quiet. She had just made coffee and was bringing it on a tray into the dining room.

‘And how on earth did you manage to persuade her to get rid of that car? Believe me, I’ve been trying for years; you would have thought it was like some kind of family pet. The only reason she didn’t drive it over to London was because she knew it’d never survive the journey…’

Maggie stood, stunned into immobility by her mother’s chatter, and then spoke quickly, putting down the tray, giving out the cups, trying not to slop the coffee everywhere with her shaking hands.

‘Mum…I’m sure Mr Cameron doesn’t want to hear about my banger. He did me a favour. I grew out of that long ago.’

‘But Maggie, only a few weeks ago you told me—’

‘More dessert, Mum? More coffee?’

‘We haven’t drunk it yet, Maggie,’ Caleb said dryly, an assessing gleam in his eyes as he took in Maggie’s all too obvious discomfiture.

She managed to distract her mother with something else and prayed that Caleb wouldn’t have taken too much notice. A short while later they stood up.

‘Mr—I mean, Caleb…’ Maggie’s mother laughed almost girlishly—the effect of a couple of glasses of wine. Maggie cringed; she was practically flirting with the man. And while she loved nothing more than seeing this more relaxed, peaceful side to her mother, she wished it could have been with anyone else. Not the all too dangerous Caleb, who would be sizing up every word.

‘I’ll give you the guided tour…’

‘Mum, we should really be going.’

Caleb smiled dangerously, confirming her fears. ‘Nonsense, Maggie, there’s nothing pressing and I’d love to see the house.’

He extended a gallant arm to Mrs Holland, who looked at Maggie triumphantly.

‘See? Now, why don’t you get started on the washing-up and let me show Caleb around?’

They were gone for what felt like ages. Maggie’s brain was working overtime when she thought of her bedroom, which hadn’t been redecorated since her teens, with all her teen idol posters still up and the flowery bedspread. With the move to London for college and only intermittent visits since, she hadn’t had the time. Or inclination, after returning from London.

Then Caleb walked into her line of vision in the garden. Alone. He stood there with hands in his pockets, surveying the view. Spectacular in a black sweater and dark trousers that hugged every bit of his tall, lean length. She sighed. And jumped when her mother appeared.

‘Well, love. Now there’s a man.’

I’ll say…

She joined Maggie at the sink and started to help dry the dishes. Caleb disappeared from view and Maggie felt scared suddenly, imagining when he’d be gone for good.

Her mother put an arm around her shoulders and Maggie leant into her, taking refuge for a moment.

‘We’re okay, love. Thanks to that man, we’re going to be fine.’

Maggie nodded and leant her head on her mother’s shoulder so she wouldn’t see the bright glitter of her tears. Her mother would be fine and that was all that mattered, but she…she knew she wouldn’t be fine at all. And it was thanks to that man.

Caleb came back through the house, his footsteps muffled on the carpet, and halted in his stride when he saw through the open kitchen door. Maggie had her head on her mother’s shoulder, their arms were around each other. There was something in the scene that was so primal and private that he couldn’t intrude. He walked away and waited for a few minutes before coming back, coughing as he did so to make them aware of his presence. He could have sworn he hadn’t just seen what he had when Maggie turned around to face him with a bright smile on her face.

‘We’d better get going.’

‘Fine, dear. I’ve held you young people up long enough.’

They said their goodbyes and finally left.

As the car pulled out of the drive, Maggie turned to Caleb. ‘That day—the day you came to the house—you said you wanted to use it as a bolt-hole…Would you really have moved in?’

Caleb had the grace to look sheepish for a moment. It threw Maggie.

‘I never really had any intention of using it. Most likely I would have sold it…I think I wanted to get a rise out of you.’ He shrugged. ‘What can I say, Maggie? You bring out the worst in me.’

After that she was tight-lipped and distant. He’d never had any intention of moving in, redecorating. And she’d risen to the bait beautifully.

He cut into her thoughts after a while. ‘Maggie…I believe you about your mother.’

‘Good.’ She just felt weary when he said that. She could feel him flick her a probing glance, could feel it heat her skin. Why did she have to be so aware of him?

‘What’s up?’

She took a deep breath and looked at him. ‘Nothing, I’m just a little tired…’

And drained and heart sore…

‘There’s a ball we’re meant to attend tonight, but if—’

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m absolutely fine. We’ll go.’

The rest of the journey was made in silence as Maggie fell asleep and Caleb wrestled with countless disturbing thoughts and feelings. Something just didn’t…fit. When he’d walked around the house with her mother, all she’d talked about was her first husband, as if he were the one who had just died…and not Tom Holland. Maybe it was some form of self-protection? But he didn’t think so. He’d mentioned Tom Holland once and she’d gone pale and changed the subject immediately. All in all, she seemed far too…happy…for someone who’d just been bereaved and not only that. She was far too happy for someone who’d just been disinherited of millions of pounds.

He shook his head grimly. Felt as if he was in new territory, somewhere he’d never wanted to be. The boundaries were shifting. He took in Maggie’s sleeping form and stretched out a hand to tuck some errant hair back behind one delicate ear. She moved slightly against his hand and smiled a tiny smile. Something didn’t fit…at all. But did he really want to find out what that was?

When they returned to the apartment that night after the ball Maggie kicked her shoes off just inside the door—her feet were aching. Her nerves were on a knife-edge. All evening Caleb had been watching her, scrutinising her. It was making her nervous. She went into the kitchen to put on the kettle. She sensed Caleb come in and lean against the door frame. Finally she couldn’t stand it any more and whirled around. ‘What…what is it? You’ve been staring at me all night.’

His eyes ran up and down her body, leisurely and explicit, and she felt a hot flush invade her skin.

‘I don’t like it.’

‘Yes, Maggie, you do.’

He strolled towards her. She couldn’t go anywhere. She was backed against the counter and suddenly remembered that other night in the kitchen when she’d practically ravished him. She went even redder.

‘My, what blushes. What could possibly be going through that head of yours?’

He was almost touching her. His hand lifted and cupped her jaw, caressing, moulding, his fingers tracing the line.

He fixated on her mouth for long seconds and Maggie’s breathing felt far too loud. Her heart was hammering. Her nerves were screaming.

Just do it…kiss me!

Instead, he seemed to wage some inner struggle and met her eyes. He saw the pulse beating at her temple, under the translucent skin.

‘Are you going to tell me what that was all about earlier?’

‘What…earlier?’ She was genuinely mystified and had trouble concentrating when he was so close.

‘Your car, Maggie. The whole song and dance to get your mother off the subject.’

She stiffened. He could sense her distancing herself even though she couldn’t physically get away. He had that sensation of her feeling cornered again.

‘What do you mean? There was nothing going on.’

‘Please. Spare me.’

He brought his arms either side of her body. They brushed against the sides of her breasts. She closed her eyes for a split second. It was so unfair of him to question her like this, when she felt so…weak.

He could see her struggle.

Could see the shutters descend over those lovely eyes, which now flashed a stormy green.

‘It was nothing, Caleb. She thinks I have some adolescent attachment to the car, but I outgrew it years ago. Believe me, I hated it, couldn’t wait to get rid of it.’ She shrugged lightly. ‘When she saw the new one…she just wouldn’t let it drop. That’s all.’

He hadn’t made millions from not being able to read people and, right now, he knew Maggie was lying through her teeth. But why? And what did it mean if she was? A door slammed in his head. He did not want to go there.

He let his gaze wander down. She looked sexily prim and proper tonight. Her hair had been straightened and pulled back into a low chignon. The high-necked designer gown hugged every curve, hiding far too much and conversely revealing everything. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her into him. She melted against him, a tinge of pink along each cheek bone. He told himself he didn’t care. Why was he even bothering to question her about it, anyway? All he wanted from her was right here in his arms. She was warm and willing and oh, so ready.

‘Fine, Maggie, whatever you say…’ and he bent his head and moulded her every curve to his hard length, took her soft lips and kissed her until he felt her legs weaken. Then he led her into the bedroom, opened every button on her dress, kissing each piece of flesh as he did so, by which time she was boneless with want and need. As Caleb came over her, dark and powerful, Maggie had one last coherent thought of thanks that he hadn’t felt the need to pursue the matter. And lost herself in him. Again.

Caleb woke early. A misty dawn light illuminated the bedroom. Maggie was tucked into his side, nestled close, one leg thrown over his, disturbingly close to a part of him that was already responding to her proximity. An arm was flung over his belly and her head rested on his chest. Her hair streamed out like a silken caress over his other arm, which held her in this close embrace. He wanted to pull Maggie even closer. Breathe in the scent of her hair, stroke that thigh that hovered so close, have her move her hand down until she could feel for herself what she was doing to him. She felt so good—every soft curve and smooth, silky bit of skin. Her breasts were pressing into his side. He was growing harder. He never wanted to let her go.

What?

He tensed. Wide awake now. Violently awake. Without thinking about what he was doing, he slowly and stealthily managed to extricate himself from her embrace and didn’t wake her. His body hummed with arousal. She tossed for a second and he held his breath but then she curled away on the other side and he could hear her breaths deepen again. With her back bared, he could see faint bruises. He had done that? Then something caught his eye—on the back of her thigh, he could see a very pink puckering of the skin, a scar of some kind. It looked as if it had been very angry at some stage, but he guessed it was years old. He wanted to reach out and touch it.

That thought galvanised him into action.

Enough!

He was mooning over his mistress as she lay sleeping. His mistress—that was all she was; he had to remember that.