Читать книгу Chasing Summer: Date with Destiny / Marooned with the Maverick / A Summer Wedding at Willowmere - Abigail Gordon, Abigail Gordon - Страница 10

THERE were several sticky moments on the way to the restaurant when a lesser driver could easily have lost the Jaguar in front. But Salome didn’t. She stuck to its gleaming bumper-bar like glue, letting neither amber traffic lights nor changes of lane faze her. In an odd sort of way, it was the most exhilarating experience she had had in months, even if more inspired by temper than a natural love of speed and danger.

She was normally a very safe and careful driver. Tonight, though, she seemed driven by inner demons, and, by the time she screeched the Ferrari to a halt beside Mike’s Jaguar in the restaurant’s car park, her own engine was as hot and bothered as the car’s.

What on earth was possessing her tonight? she thought dazedly as she slumped over the wheel, her heart pounding madly.

Any agonising over this score had to be postponed, however, for at that moment her door was wrenched open, making her sit bolt upright. Mike leaned across her and angrily switched off the still throbbing motor, his black eyes blazing. ‘Good God, woman, do you always drive like that?’ he snarled.

Salome bristled to her own defence. ‘You said not to lose you,’ she pointed out, ‘and you didn’t exactly dawdle yourself.’

The exasperated man gripping the car door with white-knuckled intensity wasn’t to be denied. ‘Maybe so, but I didn’t mean for you to drive the whole damned way barely five centimetres from my back bumper-bar. Hell, you scared the living daylights out of me every time I changed lanes or went around a corner! I was too bloody petrified to slow down in case I finished up with you in my passenger seat!’

‘You needn’t have worried.’ Her tone was now unruffled and very, very droll. ‘Ralph sent me to an advanced driving school before he gave me this car, his motto being that all expensive and beautiful things should only be put into the hands of people who know what to do with them.’

Salome retrieved the keys from the ignition and slipped them into her handbag, then glanced up to find Mike still glaring down at her, his eyes more disapproving than ever. What had she said now to annoy him?

‘Excuse me,’ she sighed, swinging her knees around in order to climb out of the low-slung car. He took a step back, at the same time holding out his hand to help her. There seemed no option but to accept it.

His grip was firm, hauling her upwards in a single smooth motion which brought her within inches of his lean length, her hand squashed in his between them. She blinked up at those intense black eyes, and was suddenly very aware of the hard male body close to her own softer female curves. The subsequent fluttering in her pulse-rate startled her. As did the quiet heat that crept over her skin.

Heavens! She knew Mike was a very attractive man, but it was infinitely disturbing to find he could command such a response from her without even trying. What would happen if he did try?

Prior to this moment, Salome would have sworn that no man would have had a chance in Hades of seducing her unless she was in love with him. Now, amazingly, Mike was stirring her on a purely physical level as no man had ever done before. Really, it was incredible! But it seemed there was a first time for everything, she thought bitterly.

Well, she would just have to ignore it all! came her immediate resolve. Or who knew what might happen? As Mike had said to her earlier that afternoon, he might not have fancied her seriously in the past, but he wouldn’t knock her back if she offered herself to him on a silver platter.

A shudder raced through Salome at the thought of ending the night in his bed. Casual sex was not for her. She had seen the results of a woman letting men use her in that way. All she had to do was to keep thinking of Molly, and this unexpected weakness was sure to cure itself.

Gathering her inner resources, she sucked in a resolute breath and plastered a determinedly innocuous smile on her face. ‘Shall we go inside?’ she suggested, and slipped her arm through Mike’s elbow.

A shaft of relief darted through her when this bold foray produced no feelings whatsoever. No tingling nerve-endings, no increased heartbeat, no flush of heat to the skin. Marvellous! The cure was working.

‘Am I missing something?’

She gave Mike’s disgruntled face the most innocent look. ‘Pardon?’

‘You seem very pleased with something all of a sudden. Am I to be allowed in on it?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she blinked vapidly. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

He withdrew his arm from hers and gave her a sharp look. ‘Don’t take me for a fool, Salome,’ he warned darkly. ‘I know when a woman has devious thoughts ticking over in her brain. And I know when she’s trying to hide something.’

She gave a light laugh, but underneath she was genuinely worried. Mike was an astute and intelligent man. And a dedicated womaniser, if the gossip she had heard about him was correct. Had she unwittingly given something away a moment ago? She hoped not, but, if she had, the best thing was to try to confuse the enemy immediately.

‘Surely you aren’t imagining I’m planning to replace Ralph with you, are you, Mike?’ she teased, green eyes mocking.

His black gaze narrowed. ‘Hardly.’

‘Then stop glowering at me. You’re quite safe. All I was thinking earlier was how strange it was that you should be the first man I’d go out with after my divorce.’

Too late, she realised that even this was an admission.

His left eyebrow lifted. ‘I find it hard to believe I’m your first male escort since Ralph.’

She silently thanked his distrust of her. ‘Well...’ She let her voice trail away tellingly, but her heart was in her mouth. ‘One doesn’t always go out...’ She considered it the lesser of two evils if he thought she’d had a lover or two. Better than his jumping to the conclusion that he alone had captured her sexual interest in fourteen months.

Mike’s mouth tightened at this revelation, his gaze hardening to the cynical expression she had known and hated from her nights at Angellini’s. It was depressing that any ground she had made in changing his opinion of her had probably been lost, but it couldn’t be helped. Perhaps it was just as well, anyway, since he was to be a neighbour, that he be kept at a distance. Doubtless, after tonight, he wouldn’t be rushing to ask her out again.

‘I suppose I should have known better,’ he drawled, ‘than to think a woman like you would do without—er—shall we say male “companionship”, for want of a better word?’

Salome buried any hurt beneath a wall of bitter sarcasm. ‘My, my, you do have a high opinion of me, don’t you? One wonders what you’re doing here with me at all. Or were you thinking of sacrificing yourself later tonight to appease my—er—”loneliness”, for want of a better word?’

A muscle in his jaw clenched, then released to make way for a black smile. ‘My neighbourly offers of friendship don’t usually extend quite that far.’

‘Oh, dear, I’m crushed.’

‘Of course, I wouldn’t like to see a lady suffer. If the worst came to the worst, I suppose I could always lie back and think of Australia.’

‘Don’t you mean England?’ she countered tartly.

‘Poetic licence. Look, do you think we could cut this charming repartee short till I can get some food into my mouth? I haven’t eaten for hours and I’m in dire need.’

‘By all means,’ she tossed back. ‘I happen to be hungry too, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.’

He chuckled. ‘Come on, then. I know when I’ve gone as far as I can go. Dinner it is!’ And he took her arm.

Salome was quite happy to be stampeded across the car park in blissful silence. She had felt her blood-pressure rising dramatically beneath her increasingly tart replies. Though not from temper. The cause was far more perturbing.

Mike’s retort about lying back had projected a vivid and erotic mental image into her imagination, sending the blood roaring through her veins. Even now her mind’s eye held a tantalising vision of him, naked and supine on her bed. He wasn’t alone either. She was there, making the most amazingly abandoned love to him.

Shock rippled deep inside Salome. It was incredible! Impossible! This couldn’t be her thinking things like that! It wasn’t as though making love had ever brought her any physical pleasure. Why should she be craving it with this man all of a sudden?

Yet, as her eyes slid sidewards to flick surreptitiously over him, she was consumed by urges so wanton and so primitive that she had to bite her lips to stop herself from groaning out loud. Currents seemed to be racing down her limbs into her fingertips and toes. A clamminess was spreading over her skin. Her mouth felt dry, her lips needing moisture.

As for her breasts...Salome was bitterly regretting her decision not to wear a bra. As it was, she was fiercely conscious of the movement of her breasts as she walked, the way her nipples were rubbing to painful hardness against her clothing.

‘I know this place doesn’t look much,’ Mike remarked as they approached the windowless façde of the restaurant, ‘but it improves once inside.’

Salome dragged her mind out of its dungeon of horrors to really look at the building for the first time. It was a solid square two-storeyed structure, painted an unprepossessing dark brown, with ‘MARTINE’S’ in gilt letters over a heavy-looking wooden door.

Mike moved ahead slightly up the front steps, the door yielding reluctantly to his push. He held it open and waved her inside. Salome stepped into the dimly lit, air-conditioned interior, her whole insides twisted as tight as a coiled spring. The door closed behind her, giving her an entombed feeling. She glanced around nervously as Mike drew to her side.

He was right about the restaurant. The interior was quiet and dark and intimate, with a small black and white tiled lobby, a classy-looking bar on their left, a flight of stairs straight ahead, and offices, Salome guessed, behind the closed door to her right. An attractive dark-haired woman in her late thirties and a smart black dress floated down the stairs, smiling at Mike as she approached. ‘Mr Angellini,’ she murmured with a gracious nod. ‘Your usual table has been reserved for you.’

Salome’s agitation was momentarily distracted when she followed the woman to the top of the stairs and realised why Mike had chosen this particular place to eat. Clearly, it wasn’t far from their block of units, since the wide windows on the upper floor displayed the same splendid view Salome had seen from her penthouse balcony that afternoon. Except that now it was night-time, with Darling Harbour, the city and the bridge ablaze with lights, their glittering reflections dancing in the black waters that lapped the foreshores.

Salome hesitated only briefly to admire the view before continuing her trek between the tables at the woman’s heels. Her eyes automatically noted and assessed the quality cream tablecloths and napkins, the comfortable cane-backed chairs, the silver candlesticks and the assorted potted palms placed discreetly for extra privacy. A place of class, without being ostentatious.

They were shown to the most private table of all, tucked away in a dimly lit corner, but still with an unimpeded view, a reserved-for-Angellini card propped up against the silver candlestick. Recalling the woman’s words that this was Mike’s usual table sent an ironic little smile to Salome’s lips. This was not his usual sort of date, though, was it?

Salome no longer had the slightest worry about Mike making a pass at her tonight. She knew he wouldn’t. Beneath his drily amused tolerance and neighbourly goodwill, he still despised her morals. It was all rather a sick joke, the way she kept wanting him, despite everything. He would probably laugh, if he knew.

Once they were seated, their hostess handed out the menus, lit the single candle, then asked if they would like a pre-dinner drink. Mike glanced questioningly over at Salome, but all she could think of was how brilliantly his eyes gleamed by candle-light and how sensuous his mouth looked in shadow. ‘Salome?’ he prompted.

Oh, God! she thought despairingly. ‘My usual,’ she managed huskily, guilt and shame a heavy burden in her heart. How could she be thinking and feeling these things for a man who thought so lowly of her? On top of that, she was supposed to be still in love with Ralph! It was all very confusing.

Mike ordered her a vodka and orange, and a double Scotch on the rocks for himself. The woman departed saying she would bring the wine list and take their orders when she returned with the drinks.

Once alone, an awkward silence fell over their table, with Salome deliberately averting her eyes from his too intuitive ones to stare blankly at the panoramic view.

‘How far are we away from home?’ she asked after a while. But she still didn’t look at him.

‘Only a couple of blocks.’

‘And you come here often?’

‘Often enough.’

Composed now, she swung her eyes back to face him, and was surprised to find she was able to look at him in a perfectly calm manner. See him for what he is, Salome, she told herself. A womaniser. A worse user, even, than Ralph. Maybe that will exorcise you of these unwanted and unwarranted desires.

‘You’ve had a lot of women, haven’t you?’ she said casually.

He seemed startled by her question, leaning back in his chair and studying her for a few seconds before answering. She found the delay almost as unnerving as his close scrutiny. ‘How many is a lot? Five? Ten? A hundred? And from what point are you counting? From my first fumbling encounter, or from the time I would classify myself as a passable lover?’

Salome began wishing she had not started on this subject. The thought of his making love to any woman was suddenly agitating her. Silly, really. What did it matter? It seemed, though, that this tack was certainly not curing her. Far from it.

She gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘Please yourself.’

‘Oh, I usually do,’ he drawled. ‘Which means I decline to answer your question on the grounds that it might incriminate me. Unless, of course, you want to play mutual confessions... How many men have you had, Salome? Or have you lost count?’

She stiffened, but then laughed. ‘Touché. But I claim the same privilege as you, Mike. You already think I’m Mata Hari. I wouldn’t want to shock you further.’ And shocked he would be, she thought ruefully, if she said she’d only had one man, and that man was not her husband! Not that he’d believe her.

The drinks arrived at this fortuitous point, and Salome resolved to keep their conversation off sex for the rest of the dinner. It wasn’t easy, but she managed, chattering away about the weather and sport during the entrée, politics during the main course, music and theatre over dessert, then the state of the economy all through coffee and liqueurs. Salome could not have told anyone afterwards what she actually ate. Seafood, she supposed, since it was primarily a seafood restaurant.

Occasionally, she caught her companion giving her a frowning glance as though he didn’t know quite what to make of his remarkably well-informed companion. Salome smiled to herself at the irony of his confusion. Her own was far more unnerving.

It was past eleven by the time Mike announced they should be going. She stood up much too abruptly, and swayed on her feet.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked solicitously.

‘The wine has gone to my head a bit,’ she said, clutching the back of her chair.

‘Here...take my arm. What you need is some fresh air.’

‘Fresh air’ was putting it mildly. It was bracing and cold, a stiff breeze coming off the water. But at least it was sobering. Not that Salome had drunk all that much. She hadn’t. A couple of glasses at most. Perhaps it was the company that was so intoxicating, she thought tartly as Mike led her across the car park, his thigh brushing against hers with each stride.

‘Are you sure you’re capable of driving?’ he asked.

‘Perfectly,’ she stated with conviction, knowing she wasn’t over the legal limit and desperately wanting some respite from his physical nearness.

Still, she drove very carefully back to the apartment block, trailing after Mike’s Jaguar from a safe distance, and parking in slow motion in one of her allotted spaces in the basement car park. Mike carried her large case over to the single private elevator that operated from that level, using his key to operate the locked doors. Salome sighed as the doors whooshed shut and the lift began its rapid climb to the penthouse floor. A few minutes and she would be able to crawl into bed, taking her fuzzy head and wretched feelings with her.

Halfway between the fourteenth and the fifteenth floors, the unthinkable happened. The elevator shuddered to an unscheduled halt and the lights went out, plunging everything into darkness.