Читать книгу The Abby Green Modern Collection - Эбби Грин, ABBY GREEN - Страница 18

‘MR CAMERON, you’re leaving early…again?’

Caleb looked up as he shrugged on his jacket to see Ivy at the door of his office.

‘Yes. I presume, as the CEO of the Cameron Corporation, I’m allowed that distinction?’ Something in her voice had him sharply on the defensive and he regretted it straight away when he saw an embarrassed flush stain the older woman’s cheeks.

‘Well…of course, Mr Cameron, I never meant to imply for a second—’

‘Ivy, I’m sorry. It’s me. I’m just tired, that’s all.’

‘Of course. This deal with New York is trying all of our patience.’

Yes, it was. And all Caleb wanted to do was go home, walk through that door and see Maggie. Two words had him halt mentally. Home and Maggie. Since when was that designer apartment home and since when did he long to see Maggie?

Since she’d made it a home…since her toiletries nestled alongside yours…since the smell of home cooking greeted you almost every night…since you’ve been happy to sit in and watch movies…

He cut off his thoughts with a ruthless effort.

‘Do you have everything you need for the flight tomorrow?’

‘Yes…’ he answered Ivy with relief. He hadn’t told Maggie about the trip to New York, which he had to leave for in the morning. And why did that make him feel so damn guilty now? He’d never felt the need to answer to anyone before, tell them his whereabouts.

Just then a younger colleague stopped by the door. He hovered nervously at the threshold. ‘Mr Cameron, a few of us are going for a drink around the corner…if you want to join us?’

Caleb picked up his briefcase. ‘There’s nothing I’d like more.’ He was oblivious to the smile that lit up the younger man’s face.

Much later, when he let himself in, the apartment was still and quiet. Maggie’s light floral fragrance hung on the air and Caleb breathed it in. He’d lasted in the bar for as long as he could, but he’d soon become bored with the youthful conversation, the young men trying to impress him, the women brushing past him suggestively.

He dropped his things, shed his coat and walked to the bedroom, already imagining Maggie curled up, warm and soft and silky. He imagined slipping in behind her, moulding her pliant form to his and waking her, making her body come to life…He walked in the door and the bed…was empty. A crushing feeling resounded in his chest. Where was she?

He retraced his steps and looked in every room. A panicky sensation was rising and he fought to keep it down. Maybe she’d just gone to see a movie again…and he suddenly wished he’d been here—they could have gone together. A snide voice whispered that maybe she was out in a bar, looking for company…

About to pick up the phone, he spotted a light coming from the huge glass doors that led on to the terrace. They’d started using it more and more as the weather got better. Morning coffee, breakfast at the weekend. He’d found it far more relaxing than he would have thought. The idea of such domesticity before would have made him come out in a rash, but somehow with Maggie it didn’t feel like that. When he thought about it now, despite having other mistresses in the past, he’d never invited them to live with him. Maggie was the first woman he’d spent so much time with. Which was ironic.

He opened the doors and they made no sound. The cool night breeze swirled around him; the sounds of traffic came up from the streets. Lights twinkled across the city. And there was Maggie. Curled up on a deckchair, in an old comfy track-suit, a shawl wrapped over her. A mug of something beside her. She’d fallen asleep.

And in a flash Caleb knew exactly what had been bothering him from the start. Maggie had never once dressed like she had that night of the seduction in London. In fact, she displayed an effortless, timeless style and everything she wore complemented her unique colouring and figure exactly. So why had she come to him dressed so cheaply that night? Yet more questions rushed in and he couldn’t halt the onslaught. Why didn’t she ever want to go clubbing? Which he personally abhorred, but still, usually had to indulge in. Why didn’t she call ten times a day just to be reassured that he still desired her? Why, when he offered to take her to the newest, most exclusive restaurant, had she screwed up her nose? And why was she so content just to stay in…and read…or watch TV?

It didn’t make sense. But, as these questions begged for his attention, he brutally used the desire rushing through his body to drown them out. He walked over and pressed a light kiss to Maggie’s lips. Her eyes opened—dark and greenly mysterious against the black night.

‘Caleb…’

‘Maggie…’

‘Where were you?’

‘I had to go out…’ And why did he feel like such a heel when he said that?

She just put her arms around his neck and allowed him to lift her against his chest. He carried her into the bedroom, where she buried her hurt and allowed him to undress her. He was back so late. Where had he really been? He’d never say and she’d never ask because he didn’t have to tell her. He owed her nothing. She meant nothing to him.

‘I have to go to New York for a few days.’

Maggie looked at Caleb reluctantly from over her morning coffee cup in the kitchen. She felt tousled and unkempt in her dressing gown next to his pristinely suited, clean-shaven appearance.

‘You’re going…alone?’ She held her breath.

‘Yes.’ He was terse. He needed to get away—from here, from her…from too many questions, making his head sore.

She suddenly felt a weight lift off her shoulders; the thought of a few days’ respite from the bitter-sweet ache of seeing him, sleeping with him every night, was like an oasis in the desert. Her eyes gleamed with relief and he couldn’t fail to notice it.

‘You don’t have to look so pleased, Maggie.’

She rapidly schooled her features, saying flippantly, ‘I’m missing you already.’

‘Maybe you should come with me…’ he taunted, but he knew she couldn’t. This deal was important and she’d be far too much of a distraction. But he’d never tell her that and didn’t like the way she tensed at those words. ‘Relax, Maggie, you can’t.’

He drained his cup and left it in the sink, picked up his coat. Despite the feeling of relief that had invaded her, now as she watched him walk away, about to go out the door, she felt a huge well of loneliness surround her. This was ridiculous. They didn’t even get on.

But…they did when they forgot themselves for a moment and had something approximating a normal, easy conversation. At times, they did have a remarkable accord, an easiness in each other’s company—something she’d never felt with anyone else. But yet, each time it seemed they might actually get close, one or the other would say something and the past would rear its ugly head. Then bed would conveniently take the need to talk further out of the equation. And she knew she couldn’t bear to see him walking away because she knew that one day very soon he’d be doing it for good.

‘Caleb.’

He stopped at the door and she walked up and pulled his head down to hers. She pressed her mouth to his and kissed him with desperate fervour. With a groan she felt him drop his case, wrap his arms around her back and pull her up, off her feet and into him. He kissed her back with a raw hunger, almost as though they’d been separated for days already.

Shakily he lowered her back down his body and put her away from him. ‘Is that so I don’t forget you?’

‘You’d better go.’

He stepped out and the door closed. Maggie leaned against it but couldn’t hold in the shaking that took hold of her body. She would not cry. She could not cry. She went over to the couch and sat down, hugging her arms around herself.

Just another few weeks, that’s all…

She was useless, pathetic. She thought back to when Caleb had come home last night and found her asleep, in a track-suit. She’d meant to change…She was doing so well at maintaining that all-important front…she hoped. But last night, when he hadn’t shown, hadn’t called, she’d been so weary. She had felt the fight leaving her. And in a way she hadn’t cared. He’d never know the full truth and he didn’t seem to mind enough to question her. He hadn’t even cared enough to tell her he was going away…

She stood resolutely and vowed to enjoy the few days of freedom. Even as she realised that she was already missing him. So much for her facetious mocking words. She may as well have been mocking herself.

For the next few days Maggie painted herself into a frenzy, trying her best to block all thoughts of Caleb. He rang every night but the calls were quick, brusque and she felt as though he was just checking up on her. One night she went to bed in one of his T-shirts, breathing his scent in deeply, ashamed of how badly she missed him.

By the weekend it didn’t look as if he was going to make it back. The time stretched ahead of her, yawning, empty. Her feeling of giddy relief at having some time alone had long gone. By the time Monday rolled around, missing him was an ache in her chest. Tuesday came and went. At one stage Maggie thought hysterically that perhaps this was it. She’d get a call from Ivy one day to say that Mr Cameron had shipped everything back to England and could she please vacate the apartment by noon.

The phone rang late on Wednesday night. She nearly dropped it, her heart was beating so fast. Her hands were slippy.

‘It’s me.’

‘Hi.’ Why did she have to sound so shy?

‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’ He sounded deathly tired. His voice raw.

‘Okay. See you then.’

The phones clicked down. Not another word. No I miss you or Can’t wait to see you. Even so, Maggie couldn’t help springing up and wrapping her arms around her body, her blood fizzing with treacherous happiness. He was coming back. He wasn’t leaving just yet.

The following morning she answered a knock at the door; it could hardly be Caleb already? Her pulse speeded up anyway and promptly slowed when she saw John, his driver. He looked terrible and his skin was grey. Her concern was immediate and washed away any thoughts of Caleb.

‘John…? What is it?’

‘I’m sorry to bother you, Maggie. It’s my heart…I was on my way to the airport but had to stop…It’s a stupid angina thing and I need a doctor…I don’t think I can pick Mr Cameron up later.’

Maggie led him into the room and took control. She’d have to collect Caleb from the airport. She’d take John’s car—she could hardly turn up to meet him in the Mini! She slid her feet into flip flops.

‘We’re going straight to the hospital. We’ll take your car; you can show me the ropes on the way and I’ll pick Caleb up.’

‘But…’

‘No buts, John; you could have had an accident…You did the right thing coming here.’

He let her lead him downstairs, into the car. At the great age of twenty-seven Maggie had, unbelievably, never driven anything bigger than the Mini and took a few minutes to feel the much bigger car. She squashed the nervous feeling and trepidation, not wanting to give John anything else to worry about. With a bright smile that hid her nerves and sweaty hands, she pulled out into the manic rush hour traffic.

Some time later, after making sure John was stable and settled into a bed in the hospital, she left. She’d have just enough time to make it to the airport. The car seemed even more daunting now when she got in, not having John by her side to point things out.

Through sheer guts and determination, Maggie managed to navigate it out of the city and on to the main airport road. Finally she managed to loosen her white-knuckle grip on the wheel.

Miraculously she found a parking space, managed not to hit anything and sat there for a few minutes taking deep breaths. She smiled wryly at herself; this was certainly one way to take her mind off Caleb, driving a car worth at least a hundred thousand and three times the size of her own. In the VIP airport arrivals area, John had told her where to wait, as Caleb was due in on a private jet. She stood and waited, her nerves coming back a thousandfold. Would he be surprised? Pleased? Angry?

He was tired. God, he was tired. He’d never felt so tired in all his life. His eyes were gritty behind his lids as he waited for his luggage to be delivered to him. And all he could see was Maggie. He cursed himself again. He could have brought her with him. It wouldn’t have made the slightest bit of difference to his concentration levels and might have actually helped them. She’d managed to invade his every waking thought, every sleeping moment. He’d hoped that the trip might prove to him that she was losing her hold on him, on his desire. If anything it was even stronger. One night he’d had to endure a dinner party where he’d been presented with woman after woman, available for his pleasure. They’d been stunning, the crème de la crème of New York society, models, actresses. And they’d done nothing for him. All he’d wanted was…Maggie. And it tore him up inside to admit it.

Finally his luggage arrived and he walked out, looking to the usual spot for John. And then he saw her. The joy that ripped through him nearly threw him off balance. He felt dizzy for a second. Was he conjuring her up? She was looking away; he saw her in profile. Her hair a shock of red against her light green cardigan, wrapped around a short shift dress. Bare legs, flip flops.

And then she turned and looked straight at him with those huge green eyes, ringed with the longest black lashes. He saw her eyes widen; she slightly lifted a hand awkwardly and it dropped slowly.

Why was he looking at her so angrily? She steeled her heart, which had somersaulted on seeing him, and hitched her chin.

He came over, face shuttered. Stern. ‘Where’s John?’

She blocked the hurt that he’d asked for John first and remembered him guiltily. ‘He’s in hospital—’

‘What?’

She put a hand on his arm. ‘He’s fine. It’s an ongoing angina problem and it flared up. I brought him in and insisted on coming to collect you; he was so worried…’ She took her hand away awkwardly.

He rubbed a weary hand over his eyes and Maggie noticed how tired he was.

‘Really, he’s going to be fine. He just needs to be observed for twenty-four hours.’

‘Okay.’ He looked at her then, blue eyes pinning her to the spot. A hand reached out and he trailed a finger down one cheek. ‘And you?’

She gulped for a breath and just shrugged, nodding. She couldn’t even speak. She was useless.

‘Thank you for looking after John.’

She shrugged again. ‘It’s fine. I was hardly going to insist he pick you up or leave him there. The car is parked nearby.’

‘You drove his car?’

‘Yes, Caleb.’ Her dry tone belied the turmoil it had taken to drive there.

When they reached it, she couldn’t resist saying cheekily, ‘I was going to bring the Mini but was afraid your ego wouldn’t fit…’

He smiled a rare smile and felt a burst of pleasure at her irreverence; it was something he never encountered. ‘Ha, ha.’

He automatically went to the driver’s side and Maggie could see him pass a hand over his eyes. He looked pale with exhaustion.

He gestured for the keys. She shook her head. ‘You’re not driving; you’re half asleep.’

‘Maggie—’

She was so firm, she surprised him. ‘No way.’

She promptly got into the driver’s seat and, short of pulling her back out, Caleb had no choice. Frankly he was too tired to argue. He sat in the passenger seat. He could feel his eyes drift shut; couldn’t keep them open. His last waking thoughts were that he’d never ever been met by a woman at the airport before, how much he’d liked it…and that he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had driven him. And yet, of all women, Maggie had done these two things. And he knew in his exhausted, vulnerable state, before his mind could jump in and deny it, that he wouldn’t have wanted to see anyone else there. The darkness enfolded him.

That night, after dinner, Maggie was preparing for bed. In the bathroom, she took her hair out of the clip and it fell around her shoulders and down her back. She couldn’t mistake the light in her eyes. For him. Because he was back. A flush stained her cheeks. The silk peignoir felt almost painfully sensuous against her heated skin.

This was so dangerous. She knew it. Like being in a car going a hundred miles an hour, hurtling towards a brick wall with no brakes.

She resolutely turned off the light and went into the bedroom. Her heart turned over when she saw the scene in front of her. Caleb, asleep on the bed, sheets pulled up to his waist, chest bare. A lock of hair had fallen forward and he looked so achingly handsome that Maggie couldn’t breathe for a moment.

He sleeps…

As if in a dream, she walked over and sat down beside him on the edge of the bed. He didn’t move. She reached out a hand and smoothed his hair back and brought her finger to her lip and kissed it before pressing it lightly against his mouth.

Without opening his eyes, he grabbed her wrist lightly. He pressed a kiss against the pulse fluttering against the delicate inner skin. He opened slumberous eyes and Maggie was trapped. He brought her inexorably forward until she was lying against his chest, her breasts crushed against him. He made a slow, thorough study of her face and then down, to where he could see the voluptuous V of her cleavage.

‘Caleb…we don’t…you’re too tired…’

He shook his head. ‘Not too tired for this, ever…’

And with a fluid, graceful movement he rolled her over until she was on her back and he hovered over her. With a hand caressing her face, he bent and met her mouth with his, in a sensual onslaught that washed away any resistance. She was as incapable of stopping him as he seemed to be incapable of wanting to stop.

That hand drifted down and over her silk-covered breast, teasing the aching peak that jutted out against the material. Maggie groaned hungrily, her hands searching and finding his chest, moving, exploring, down, under the sheet where she came in contact with the heated evidence of his desire.

He pulled up her slip, baring her to his hungry gaze. ‘God, Maggie…I’ve missed you…You’re like a fever in my blood.’

An answering cry deep within her had her pull her slip up and off completely and they kissed hungrily, passionately, bodies straining together. With uncustomary clumsiness, Caleb found and rolled on protection. And then, finally, he was home…entering her satin flesh. And she was reaching up to meet him. All tiredness and fatigue gone. A distant memory.

That control that he valued so much was slipping again. His aching hardness sheathed in her warmth made him suck in a rasping breath. He opened his eyes and looked down and sank into green depths. As deep as the ocean. Her cheeks were flushed with arousal; he could feel her body start to tense around him.

He tried to hold on…tried to regain some sense of control and couldn’t. Her body tautened and arched against his, her arms wrapped around his back. He could feel her hard nipples pushing against his chest and, giving in to the wild surge building through him, he felt himself being pushed to the brink on the wave of her orgasm and for a moment was poised…about to fall down, into the abyss. But, just before he did, before he crashed, he had the most overwhelming desire to experience this, skin to skin. Without protection. He’d never before felt the lack of that contact with anyone and yet here, now…with her, the protective barrier felt…somehow wrong.

As the carnal pleasure rippled through him and he felt himself explode, he wanted with a fierce primal desire to be spilling deep into her…to brand her, mark her. Seconds later, when the world had righted itself again, when the realisation hit…of what had just gone through his mind, what it meant, his whole body tensed and stilled over hers. Dear God. He wanted to make her pregnant?

That devastating thought drove him to pull free abruptly from her body and he heard her whimper. Their bodies were still painfully sensitive, his own protesting when he moved away—every cell, every inch of him wanting to pull her close and meld her to him again. His body was still hard but now he had to get away…from her…from himself. Was he just going mad with exhaustion? That was all it was. Feeling sudden wry humour at his crazy ramblings, he pushed himself up from the bed and, without looking back at Maggie, went into the bathroom and stepped into the shower.

Behind him, bereft on the bed, tears stung the back of Maggie’s eyes but she would not let them fall. She knew how it was possible to make love and want to cry with a broken heart at the same time. Because she couldn’t deny it any longer, couldn’t deny the certain knowledge that he had her heart, for ever. Every beat was for him. And it would kill her in the end.