Читать книгу Chasing Summer: Date with Destiny / Marooned with the Maverick / A Summer Wedding at Willowmere - Abigail Gordon, Abigail Gordon - Страница 14

SALOME found a maroon-robed Mike in the kitchen, brewing even better-smelling coffee than she’d made the previous night. Its delicious aroma, however, ran a distant second where her senses were concerned. They were being filled with the man who was standing next to the percolator, tapping idle fingers on the marble counter-top. Obviously he had used the main bathroom to shower while she’d been in the en suite, for his hair was slicked back behind his ears in wet waves, the style giving her an unimpeded view of his very male profile with its strong, Roman nose and stubborn cleft chin. His mind seemed to be a million miles away, his furrowed brow indicating a serious train of thought.

He must have seen her suddenly out of the corner of his eye, for his head jerked round, his startled gaze raking over her towel-clad body, lingering on bare shoulders before dropping to her equally bare feet. For a moment it was as though he didn’t recognise her, his eyes narrowing with a kind of disapproval as they swept back up to land on her freshly scrubbed face.

Salome’s heart lurched, then sank. Apparently he preferred his women glammed up, even at breakfast.

He was shaking his head. ‘You look about fifteen,’ he said. His dry tone brought a spurt of anger, and she pulled the towel from around her head, letting the red-gold curls spill in damp disarray around her face and shoulders. She knew if anything could destroy the illusion of youthful innocence it was her wild mass of hair. ‘Better?’ she snapped.

His eyes raked over her again, and this time desire flared in those ruthless black pools. Salome was shocked. My God, hadn’t he had enough last night? She tore her eyes away from him, alarmed that recognition of his desire had stirred her also. If this kept up they would spend all their days in bed, not just their nights!

A black wave of dismay rolled through her. What in heaven’s name was she doing, wasting more of her life on another man who didn’t love her? This was even worse than her marriage to Ralph. It didn’t even have the respectability of a wedding-ring, or the illusion of love! If she had any guts she would walk out of here right now.

Her dismay grew, for she knew she couldn’t do it. She wanted Mike too much. All she could hope for was that their affair would be a short one, that her mad desires would be sated before he succeeded in ensnaring more than her bodily responses. In her present vulnerable state, it was within the realms of possibility that she might really fall in love with him. And that, she could do without.

Irritation at her own weakness brought a surge of pride-filled resolve. Get a hold of yourself, woman! You’re an independent adult, not a simpering idiot with no will of your own. You call the shots. You decide what will be done and when. Don’t let another man turn you into a puppet on a string!

Feeling infinitely stronger, she lifted cool green eyes, giving a still staring Mike a sophisticated smile as she walked slowly over and settled herself on one of the stools. ‘Pour me some of that coffee, will you, darling?’ she said, draping the damp towel in her hand over the stool next to her. ‘I need something to wake me up.’

He glared at her, clearly annoyed with her casual attitude; or was it the socially meaningless ‘darling’ that had irked him?

Too bad, her eyes projected back with savage indifference. If you want to have an affair with a woman whom you think has few moral scruples, Michael Angellini, then don’t be put out when she acts like one. Or did you honestly expect her to be the complete fantasy, and pretend undying love as well?

Clenching his jaw, he swung his attention back to the coffee which he poured into two stoneware mugs. Salome got the impression he would have liked to throw hers right at her, but he didn’t. Instead, he put it down in front of her with that cold smile and exaggerated politeness he’d always treated her with at his restaurant. A jug of milk and a basin of sugar were deposited with controlled movements, as was a spoon.

‘Do you want some eggs to go with that?’ he asked with his cold restaurateur voice. ‘Or some toast?’

‘Some toast would be nice,’ she returned blandly.

Actually, she didn’t want toast. She wanted to get the hell out of here. Inside, she still felt thoroughly ashamed of herself, not only for what had happened the previous night, but also for what she knew was going to happen again tonight, and many nights to come. She would never have believed she could become addicted to sex like this, but the least she could do was control her new-found desires as best she could and dissuade Mike from any idea he might be harbouring of a master-slave relationship. Which meant she would have to make a stand on certain matters before it was too late, before she fell more under this man’s sexual power than she was already.

‘Mike,’ she began firmly before she could change her mind. His head snapped up from the toaster, eyes hard.

‘About my moving in with you,’ she went on, her chest tightening at the way his eyes hardened even further. ‘I would rather stay in my own place. I...you said it would be all right with you if I gave you a key.’

He said nothing for several seconds, his glare a troubled mixture of fury and undeniable disappointment. This latter reaction evoked a dangerous weakness within Salome. Incredibly, she was tempted to change her mind, to tell him she would do whatever he wanted, that she would be here for him always, whenever and however he wished.

In the end this very same weakness was her salvation. My God, if this was how her amazing new sense of sexuality was going to make her feel, then it was doubly imperative that she keep her own place and her own counsel, that this affair be on her terms, not Mike’s.

‘On second thoughts,’ she resumed, her voice firming again, ‘I’d rather not give you a key either. All you have to do is knock and I’ll let you in. After all...’ she gave him one of her coolest looks ‘...if I’m not at home, there’s no point in your coming in, is there?’

For a long time they just stared at each other, with Salome again crazily wanting to take back what she had just said. But it was what she began wanting Mike to do that disturbed her the most. She wanted him to sweep her into his arms and tell her not to be so silly, that he really loved her, cared about her, that he wanted to spend time with her, not just in bed but out, wanted to be her friend and companion, not just her lover.

These unexpected desires were so unbelievably strong that they made her head spin. If she wanted him to love her so much, did that mean that the awful had already happened—that she had already fallen for him?

Her gaze went to his broodingly handsome face, his beautiful hands, his impressively virile body, probably naked under the dressing-gown. But she didn’t concentrate on any of these things. Instead, she thought of all she had ever felt for this man, right from their first meeting, when hot black eyes had clashed with cool green ones, and her whole world had tilted, never to be the same again. Could the intensity of her reaction to him back then be reasoned away by blaming it on a thwarted though superficial sexual desire?

She didn’t think so, and, as the scales of self-deception fell from her eyes, something deep moved inside Salome, something as intrinsically emotional and binding as it was physical. There seemed to be no separating them, no matter what she did, and finally she had to accept the truth. Yes, she did love him. Perhaps, in a weird way, she always had.

Her reaction to this acceptance was a wild mixture of despair and relief. Despair that it made a mockery of what she had always thought she’d felt for Ralph. Yet relief that she hadn’t fallen victim to some unexpectedly promiscuous change in her nature. What more natural than to want to make love to the man she loved?

And it was while she was battling with a new rush of weakness towards him that Mike spoke up. ‘Whatever you’re comfortable with, Salome,’ he agreed curtly.

She silenced the crazy words of confessed love that kept bubbling up in her throat by drinking down the scalding coffee and talking to herself. Don’t you dare tell him, you silly little fool, she repeated over and over again. Ten minutes later she had gobbled down the toast and was excusing herself.

‘I must go, Mike. Your kitchen clock says it’s after ten. The day will be over before you know it, and I promised Molly I’d visit. Besides, I’ve many more things to bring over.’

He wasn’t going to let her go that easily, however, and he walked her along the corridor to her still-open door, where he drew her into his arms, his cold eyes warming irresistibly when she made no moves to stop him. Salome found it impossible to concentrate on any resolves for her survival when he looked at her like that, particularly now that she knew she loved him.

Yet, this knowledge should have been making her more wary, more careful. If she had any sense she would put a halt to this right now, do what she’d decided to do yesterday and move back home.

‘You’re an intriguing woman, Salome,’ he murmured. ‘A woman of many colours. A chameleon. I thought I knew you, but I haven’t touched the surface, have I?’

It took every ounce of her control to keep a cool and somewhat mysterious smile on her face. If she let him inside her head and her heart, she would be truly lost.

‘I am what I am,’ she said cryptically.

‘Mm...and that’s very sexy.’ He bent to kiss her mouth lightly with his, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. ‘I have to work tonight,’ he whispered into her parting lips. ‘It’ll be late by the time I get in.’

‘I’ll wait up,’ she returned shakily.

‘I was hoping you’d say that.’ His mouth completed what it had started, her acceptance of loving him giving the experience a poignant edge. It seemed to pierce into her very soul, making her want to cling to him, never to let him go. Her arms shot up around his neck, and she pulled him to her, returning his kiss with sudden blind urgency. He responded accordingly, his arms tightening around her, his hunger inflamed. But when he urged her inside her penthouse, and tried to remove the towel from around her, she wrenched herself away.

‘No!’ she cried, panic-stricken. ‘No,’ she repeated, with a shaky, apologetic smile, hoping it would waylay his troubled astonishment. ‘There isn’t time, darling. Sorry...I’ll make it up to you tonight.’ Clutching the dangerously drooping towel around her, she went up on tiptoe and gave him a dismissive peck.

He stared back down at her, not totally mollified. ‘I wish I knew what went on inside that gorgeous head of yours,’ he growled.

She laughed. ‘What would be the fun in that?’

His face darkened with ill-humour. ‘Who said this is fun? More like bloody torture!’

Salome blushed guiltily, knowing that her burst of love had unwittingly aroused him.

‘And now she blushes,’ he grated out. ‘God!’ He whirled around and stalked out into the corridor, where he seemed to have second thoughts, spinning round to throw her an exasperated though forgiving look. ‘By the way, I’ll see the janitor later about having the locks changed on your door and the basement lift,’ he said. ‘And I’ll find out if we’re likely to have any more of those blackouts. Hopefully, it was a one-off thing.’

Salome’s stomach tightened as she thought of what had happened in the lift. Even her acceptance of loving Mike didn’t stop the automatic feeling of shame.

Mike made a disgruntled sound, as though he too was remembering something best forgotten. ‘I guess I’ll see you later tonight,’ he bit out in clipped tones, and stalked off.

‘I guess so...’ She closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a shuddering sigh. A whole day without him, she thought. And despite all her resolves, all her common-sense reasonings, her heart plummeted. ‘How am I going to stand it?’ she groaned to the cold, empty rooms.