Читать книгу His Christmas Virgin - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 7

‘I DON’T give a damn whether Mr Buchanan is busy or not,’ an angry voice—that unfortunately Jonas recognised only too well!—snapped in the outer office of his London headquarters at nine-thirty on Monday morning. ‘No, I have no intention of making an appointment. I want to talk to him now!’ The door between the two rooms was flung open as Mac burst into Jonas’s office.

Jonas barely had time to register her appearance, in a fitted black jumper and faded hipster blue denims, her hair a silken ebony curtain over her shoulders and down the length of her spine, before she marched over to stand in front of his desk, her cheeks flushed and eyes fever bright as she glared across at him.

She looked like a feral cat—and just as ready to spit and claw!

Jonas tilted his head sideways in order to look over at his secretary as she stood hesitantly in the doorway. ‘There’s no need to call Security, Mandy,’ he drawled. ‘I’m sure Miss McGuire won’t be staying long…’ He looked up enquiringly at Mac as he added that last statement.

Her eyes narrowed menacingly and she seemed to literally breathe fire at him. ‘Long enough to tell you exactly what I think of you and your strong-arm tactics, at least!’ she snarled.

‘Thanks, Mandy,’ Jonas dismissed his secretary, waiting until she had quietly left the room before looking back at Mac. ‘You appear to be a little…distraught, this morning?’

‘Distraught!’ she echoed incredulously. ‘I’m furious!’

Jonas could clearly see that. He just had no idea why that was.

Thankfully Amy had been ready to leave the gallery on Saturday evening when Jonas returned, allowing no opportunity for him and Mac to engage in any more arguments. Or to tempt Jonas into wanting to kiss her…

In the thirty-six hours since Jonas had last seen Mac, he had managed to convince himself that temptation had been an aberration on his part, a purely male reaction to the fact that she had looked as sexy as hell in that red silk dress.

Except that he now found himself facing the same temptation!

Mac wasn’t wearing any make-up today, and her hair was windblown, her clothes casual in the extreme—and yet he still found his gaze drawn again and again to the fullness of her tempting lips.

Jonas’s fingers tightened about the pen he was holding. ‘Perhaps you would care to tell me why you’re so furious?’ he asked harshly. ‘And what it has to do with me,’ he added.

‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m going to tell you exactly why,’ Mac promised. ‘And you know damn well what it has to do with you!’ she said accusingly.

Jonas raised his palms. ‘I really am very busy this morning, Mac—’

‘Do you have someone else you need to go and intimidate?’ she scorned. ‘Oh, I forgot—you usually leave that sort of thing to your underlings!’ She snorted disgustedly. ‘Well, let me assure you that I don’t scare that easily—’

‘Would you just calm down and tell me what the hell you’re talking about?’ he cut in coldly, those blue eyes glacial.

Mac was breathing hard, too upset still to heed the warning she could see in that chilling gaze. ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about—’

‘If I did, I would hardly be asking you to explain, now, would I?’ Jonas retorted.

Mac’s gaze narrowed. ‘You knew I wouldn’t be at home on Saturday evening because of the exhibition, and you shamelessly took advantage of that fact. You—’

He threw his pen down on the desktop before standing up impatiently. ‘Mac, if you don’t stop throwing out accusations, and just explain yourself, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’

The anger Mac was feeling had been brewing, growing, since she’d returned home on Saturday evening. Having no idea where Jonas Buchanan actually lived, she’d had to spend all of Sunday brooding too, with only the promise of being able to visit Jonas at his office first thing on Monday morning to sustain her. Having his secretary try to stonewall her had done nothing to improve Mac’s mood.

She drew in a controlling breath. ‘My studio was broken into on Saturday evening. But, then, you already knew that, didn’t you?’ she said pointedly. ‘You—’

‘Stop right there!’ Jonas thundered as he stepped out from behind his desk.

Mac instinctively took a step backwards as he towered over her, appearing very dark and threatening in a charcoal-grey suit, pale grey shirt and grey silk tie, with that overlong dark hair styled back from the chiselled perfection of his face.

Those sculptured lips firmed to a livid thin line. ‘You’re telling me that your studio was broken into while you were out at the exhibition on Saturday evening?’

‘You know that it was—’

‘Mac, if you’re going to continue to accuse me like this then I would seriously suggest that you have the evidence to back it up!’ he warned harshly. ‘Do you have that evidence?’ he pressed.

She shook her head. ‘The police didn’t find anything that would directly implicate you, no,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘But then, they wouldn’t have done, would they?’ she rallied. ‘You’re much more clever—’

‘Mac!’

She blinked at the steely coldness Jonas managed to project into just that one word. Shivered slightly at the icy warning she could read in his expression.

But she didn’t care how cold and steely Jonas was, the break-in had to have been carried out by someone who worked for him. Who else would have bothered, would have a reason to break into a building that, from the outside, appeared almost derelict?

Jonas was hanging onto his own temper by a thread. Angered as much by the thought of someone having broken into Mac’s home at all, as at the accusations she was making about him being responsible for that break-in. She could so easily have been at home on Saturday evening. Could have been seriously hurt if she had disturbed the intruder.

He frowned. ‘Did they take anything?’

‘Not that I can see, no. But—’

‘Let’s just stick to the facts, shall we, Mac?’ Jonas bit out, a nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw.

She eyed him warily. ‘The facts are that I arrived home late on Saturday evening to find my studio completely wrecked. The only consolation—if it can be called that!—is that at least all of my most recent work was at the gallery that evening.’

Jonas nodded. ‘So there was no real damage done?’

Mac’s eyes widened indignantly. ‘My home, my privacy, was invaded!’

And he could understand how upsetting that must have been for her. Must still be. But the facts were that neither Mac nor her property had actually come to any real harm.

He moved to sit on the side of his desk. ‘At least you had the sense to call the police.’

‘I’m not a complete moron!’

Jonas didn’t think that Mac was a moron at all. All evidence was to the contrary. ‘I don’t recall ever saying otherwise,’ he commented dryly.

‘You implied it, with your “at least” comment!’ She thrust her hands into the hip pockets of her denims, instantly drawing Jonas’s attention to the full and mature curve of her breasts beneath the fitted black sweater. Making a complete nonsense of how he had mistaken her for a young girl at their first meeting two days ago.

She was different again today, he realised ruefully. No longer the waif or the femme fatale, but a beautiful and attractive woman in her late twenties. A man could never become bored with Mac McGuire when he would never know on any given day which woman he was going to meet!

He sighed. ‘What conclusions did the police come to?’

She shrugged those narrow shoulders. ‘They seem to think it was kids having fun.’

Jonas grimaced. ‘Maybe they’re right—’

‘Kids don’t just break in, they steal things,’ Mac disagreed impatiently. ‘I have a forty-two-inch flat-screen television set, a new Blu-ray Disc player, a state-of-theart music system and dozens of CDs, and none of them were even touched.’

Jonas looked intrigued. ‘So it was just your studio that was targeted?’

‘Just my studio?’ she repeated indignantly. ‘You just don’t understand, do you?’ she added as she turned away in disgust.

The problem for Jonas was that he did understand. He understood only too well. Having seen Mac’s work for himself on Saturday evening, he knew exactly how important her studio was to her. It was the place where she created beauty deep from within her. Where she poured out her soul onto canvas. To have that vandalised, wrecked, was the equivalent of attacking the inner, deeply emotional Mac.

His mouth firmed. ‘But you believe I’m responsible for what happened?’

Mac turned to eye him warily as she once again heard that underlying chill in Jonas’s tone, the warning against repeating her earlier accusations.

If Jonas wasn’t responsible, then who was? Not just who, but why? Nothing of value had been taken. In fact, the living-area part of her home hadn’t been touched. Only her studio had been vandalised. Surely whoever had done that would have to know her to realise that the studio was her heart and soul?

Which, as he didn’t know her, surely ruled out Jonas Buchanan as being the person responsible for the damage? After all, they had only met twice before this morning, and neither of those occasions had been in the least conducive to them gaining any personal insights about each other. Jonas certainly couldn’t know how much Mac’s studio meant to her.

She gave a weary shake of her head. ‘I don’t know what to believe any more…’

‘That’s something, I suppose,’ Jonas commented dryly. ‘Why don’t we start with the premise that neither I nor anyone I employ had anything to do with the break-in, and go from there?’ he suggested. ‘Who else could have reason for wanting to cause you this personal distress? Perhaps an artist rival, jealous of your success? Or maybe an ex-lover who didn’t go quietly?’ he added.

Mac’s eyes narrowed. ‘Very funny!’

Strangely, Jonas didn’t find his last suggestion in the least amusing. Especially when it was accompanied by vivid images of this woman’s naked body intimately entwined with another man, that ebony hair falling about the two of them like a silken curtain…

He straightened abruptly and once again moved to sit behind his desk. ‘I really am busy this morning, Mac. In fact I have an appointment in a little under five minutes, so why don’t we meet up again at lunchtime and discuss this further?’

Mac eyed him suspiciously. ‘You’re inviting me out to lunch?’ she repeated uncertainly, as if she were sure she must have misheard him.

No, Jonas hadn’t been inviting her out to lunch. In fact, those earlier imaginings had already warned him that, the less he had to do with the volatile Mac McGuire, the better he would like it!

‘On second thoughts it would be far more sensible if you were to talk to my secretary on your way out and make an appointment to come back and see me at a time more convenient for both of us.’

It would be more sensible, Mac agreed, but after arriving back late from the gallery on Saturday evening to find her studio in chaos, and then another hour spent talking to the police, to spend the rest of the weekend alternating between ranting at the mess and crying for the same reason, she wanted to sort this problem out once and for all. Today, if possible.

Her parents, safely ensconced in their retirement bungalow home in Devon, where they also ran a B&B in the summer months, already worried that their move to the south of England had left her living alone in London. They would be horrified to learn that she’d had a break-in at her home.

But was it a good idea for her to have lunch with Jonas Buchanan? Probably not, Mac acknowledged ruefully. Except that he had seemed sincere—no, furious, actually—in his denial that he was in any way responsible for the break-in.

If that were genuinely the case, then she probably owed him an apology, at least, for having come here and made those bitter accusations.

‘Lunch sounds a better idea,’ Mac contradicted his earlier suggestion. ‘In fact, I’ll take you out to lunch.’

Jonas raised mocking brows. ‘Would that offer be the equivalent of wearing sackcloth and ashes?’

Mac felt the warmth of colour in her cheeks at his pointed suggestion that she should appear penitent for her behaviour. ‘It means that for the moment I’m prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt regarding the break-in.’

‘For the moment?’ Jonas repeated softly, trying not to grit his teeth. ‘That’s very…good of you.’

‘Don’t push your luck, Jonas,’ she snapped. ‘I’m only suggesting this at all because this whole situation seems to be getting out of control.’

Jonas considered her between hooded lids. Mac really had behaved like a little hellion this morning by forcing her way into his office and throwing out her wild accusations. And if Jonas had any sense then he would tell her he would see her in court for even daring to voice those accusations without a shred of evidence to back up her claim. He certainly shouldn’t even be thinking of accepting her invitation to have lunch.

Except that he was…

Mac intrigued him. Piqued his interest in a way no woman had done for a very long time. If ever.

All the more reason not to even consider going out to lunch with her then!

She was absolutely nothing like the women Jonas was usually attracted to. Beautiful and sophisticated women who knew exactly what the score was. Who expected nothing from him except the gift of a few expensive baubles during the few weeks or months their relationship lasted; if any of those women had ever harboured the hope of having any more than that from him then they had been sadly disappointed.

Jonas had witnessed and lived through the disintegration of his own parents’ marriage. He had been twelve years old when he’d watched them start to rip each other to shreds, both emotionally and verbally, culminating in an even messier divorce when Jonas was fifteen.

He had decided long ago that none of that was for him. Not the initial euphoria of falling in love. Followed by a few years of questionable happiness. Before the compromises began. The irritation. And then finally the hatred for each other, followed by divorce.

Jonas wanted none of it. Would willingly forgo the supposed ‘euphoria’ of falling in love if it meant he also avoided experiencing the disintegration of that relationship and the hatred for each other that followed.

Mac McGuire, for all she was an independent and successful artist, gave every appearance of being one of those happily-ever-after women Jonas had so far managed to avoid having any personal involvement with.

‘Well?’ she prompted irritably at Jonas’s lengthy silence.

He should say no. Should tell this woman that he had remembered he already had a luncheon appointment today.

Damn it, it was only lunch, not a declaration of intent!

His mouth thinned. ‘I have an hour free between one o’clock and two o’clock today.’

‘Wow,’ Mac murmured, those smoky-grey eyes now openly laughing at him. ‘I should feel honoured that Jonas Buchanan feels he can spare me a whole hour of his time.’

His eyes narrowed to icy slits as he retorted, ‘When what I should really do is take your shapely little bottom to court and sue you for slander!’

Mac’s eyes widened and hot colour suffused her cheeks at hearing Jonas claim she had a shapely little bottom, making her once again completely aware of his own dark and dangerous attraction…

If anything he seemed even bigger today, his wide shoulders and powerful chest visibly muscled beneath the tailored suit and silk shirt, his face hard and slightly predatory, and dominated by those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see too much.

Did they see just how affected Mac was by his dark good looks, and that air of danger?

Perhaps the two of them lunching together wasn’t such a good idea, after all, Mac decided with a frown. She could always claim that she had remembered a prior engagement. That she had to go to the Lyndwood Gallery to check on how the exhibition was going—

‘Jonas, I have the letter here from—’ The blonde, blue-eyed woman who had entered from the adjoining office, and who Mac instantly recognised as being Jonas’s PA, Yvonne Richards—the same woman who had visited Mac a couple of months ago in an effort to persuade her into agreeing to sell her home—came to an abrupt halt in the doorway to Jonas’s office as she saw Mac there. ‘I’ll come back later, shall I?’ She totally ignored Mac as she looked at Jonas enquiringly.

‘No need, Yvonne; Miss McGuire was just leaving,’ Jonas said as he stood up, obviously dismissing Mac.

The fact that was exactly what Mac had been about to do did nothing to nullify the fact that Jonas was trying to get rid of her! Without any firm arrangements having been made for them to meet later today to continue this discussion…

‘There’s an Italian restaurant two streets over from this one,’ she turned to inform him briskly. ‘I’ll book a table for us there for one o’clock.’

‘Perhaps you would prefer me to book the table for the two of you?’ the blonde woman offered coolly. ‘Mr Buchanan’s name is known to the restaurant owner,’ she added pointedly as Mac looked at her enquiringly.

Mac gave the other woman a narrowed-eyed glance as she heard the edge in her tone, recognising that Yvonne Richards, beautiful and in her late twenties, was obviously a typical case of the PA who believed herself in love with her boss. A crush that Mac doubted Jonas Buchanan was even aware of.

Mac gave the other woman a saccharin-sweet smile. ‘That won’t be necessary, thank you; I know Luciano personally, too.’

‘Fine,’ Yvonne Richards bit out before turning to her employer. ‘I’ll come back when you aren’t so busy, Jonas.’ She turned abruptly on her two-inch heels and went back into the adjoining office, the door closing sharply behind her.

Mac turned back to Jonas. ‘I don’t think your PA likes me!’

Jonas’s mouth compressed briefly. ‘She hasn’t known you long enough yet to dislike you.’ Before Yvonne had interrupted them Jonas had had every intention of refusing Mac’s invitation to lunch, and he wasn’t at all happy with the fact that, between them, Yvonne and Mac seemed to have arranged for him to have lunch at Luciano’s at one o’clock today.

Mac gave an unconcerned grin, two unexpected dimples appearing in her cheeks. ‘That usually takes a little longer than five minutes, hmm?’

‘Precisely,’ he growled.

She raised dark, mocking brows. ‘Perhaps she just has a crush on you?’

An irritated scowl darkened Jonas’s brow. ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

Mac gave an unconcerned shrug. ‘She seems—less than happy at the thought of the two of us having lunch together.’

‘Will you just go away and leave me in peace, Mac?’ Once again Jonas moved to sit behind his imposing desk in obvious dismissal. ‘I’ll see you later,’ he added pointedly as Mac made no move to respond to his less-than-subtle hint.