Читать книгу Ruthless Tycoon, Inexperienced Mistress - Кэтти Уильямс, CATHY WILLIAMS, Cathy Williams - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

AT SIX-THIRTY the following morning, the snow had stopped but outside was a landscape of pure wintry white. Very attractive for a postcard, Jude thought sourly, but not so handy when it came with her house guest, the thought of whom had kept her tossing and turning throughout the night. He should never have mentioned that he slept naked. The minute he had told her that, the image of him without his clothes had lodged in her head and all her mechanisms for a peaceful night—counting sheep, planning her day, thinking about the projects she had on the go—had been ruined.

Her highly efficient heating system had kicked in over an hour previously and the house was already beautifully warm. It was also beautifully silent.

She crept stealthily out of her bedroom, wondering whether to use the bathroom and then deciding against it just in case her visitor woke up. She had decided overnight that the less contact she had with him, the better. He was disturbing and, much as she loved Freddy and Imogen both, she didn’t see why she should have her life disturbed by a virtual stranger. Of course he would surface at some point but before then she could at least snatch a cup of coffee in relative peace.

She crept down the stairs, which didn’t creak because she weighed so much less than he did, and expelled one long relieved breath when she was in the safety of her kitchen.

Like everything else in the cottage, it was small but beautifully proportioned, with two beams across the ceiling, an old but serviceable Aga and a much worn kitchen table, which she had bought second hand from a shop which purported to sell antique pine. Freddy’s apartment in the city centre was shiny and new and kitted out in a style that could only have been achieved by an interior designer with a limitless budget. She caught herself wondering what his brother’s place looked like and immediately stamped on her curiosity.

She was happily pouring hot water into her mug, back to the kitchen door, when an all too familiar voice said from behind, ‘Great. I’ll have one, too.’

Jude started violently, with the kettle in her hand, and she gave a cry of shock and pain as hot water splashed over her wrist.

Cesar was next to her before she could turn around and give him the full benefit of her annoyance at finding her privacy invaded.

‘What have you done?’

‘What are you doing down here?’ The man looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as though he had been up for hours, and he was back in his trousers and shirt, although he had appropriated one of the baggy old zip-up sweats which she kept on a hook by the front door for those rare moments when her conscience got the better of her and she decided to go to the gym. It drowned her but on him was pulled tight, leaving her in no doubt as to the build of his olive-skinned muscular body.

‘Give me your hand.’

‘I know what to do.’ She turned away, her heart racing at the sight of him, and switched on the cold water, but he was there before her, holding her hand under the tap and then gently patting it dry with one of the tea towels on the Aga.

Jude watched, mesmerised, those long brown fingers against her pale skin, barely able to breathe properly. His clean masculine scent filled her nostrils and made her feel giddy.

‘Clumsy, clumsy,’ he tutted under his breath and she glared at him.

‘You gave me the fright of my life,’ she accused. ‘I didn’t expect you to be sneaking around at this hour in the morning! You’re a guest! Guests stay in bed until they think it’s appropriate to emerge!’

‘I’m a morning person. Up with the lark, so to speak.’ He guided her towards a chair and sat her down. ‘Do you have any antiseptic cream? Bandage?’

‘I’ll be fine as soon as you give me back my hand.’

‘Nonsense. As you said, this is my fault.’

Jude couldn’t disagree with that. She told him where to find her first aid kit and watched in silence as he efficiently bandaged her hand, treating her with a great deal more concern than the scalding warranted. Much to her discomfort because halfway through the procedure, and having recovered from the shock at having him sneak up on her from behind, she became acutely aware of what she was wearing. A baggy T-shirt, along the lines of the one she had tossed at him earlier on. It reached mid-thigh but thereafter she was fully exposed and all too aware of the unprepossessing image she presented to a man who obviously didn’t do casual, judging from his remark about her jeans outfit the night before.

She hunched forward in an attempt to conceal the jutting peaks of her breasts and then realised that she was thereby exposing them to an overhead view so she sat up and glared at his dark head as he put the finishing touch to the bandage.

‘Now stay right there and I’ll finish what you started.’

‘What have you been getting up to down here? How long have you been up?’

‘Oh, I only managed to grab a couple of hours’ sleep,’ Cesar said, his back to her as he made them both a mug of coffee. ‘Perhaps it was the novel experience of sleeping in a pink T-shirt.’

Jude took some comfort in imagining him looking ridiculous. Had he been wearing it right now, she figured she might have coped with him being in her space without her body feeling as though it were on fire.

‘Then—’ he placed her mug of coffee next to her on the table and sat down ‘—I tried to get the Internet working but it refused to oblige.’

‘Phone lines might be down,’ Jude said glumly. ‘A heavy fall of snow can sometimes do that. It can also be a bit quirky at times.’

A bit like its owner, Cesar thought. He had had time to think things over and had come to the conclusion that nothing would be gained from browbeating her. She was clearly as stubborn as a mule and, from what he could see, given to baring her claws. Far better to put away his armoury and use weapons of a different nature to find out what exactly her role was in his brother’s life.

‘I then decided to use my time profitably so I went to check on the car.’

‘And you got it started?’

‘Started but nowhere to go with it. Snow’s pretty deep.’

‘Couldn’t you have scraped the snow away? You’re a strong man,’ she added boldly. ‘Men do stuff like that.’

‘Sure, if I’d wanted to spend the next eight hours outside in the freezing cold—and here’s some more bad news. The sky looks grim and the weather reports are talking about more snow in the next twenty-four hours.’

‘They can’t be!’ Jude all but wailed.

‘Hazard of living in this part of the world. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I’ve seen snow in London.’

‘How can you be so…so calm about all of this?’

‘Why get hot and bothered about something over which I have no control?’ Sure, he had uttered a few ungentlemanly curses when he had discovered the lack of Internet connection but he had now resigned himself to the fact that the business world would have to spend at least part of the weekend without him. For Cesar, this was no small thing. Work was his driving force. It took precedence over everything and everyone.

‘Because you live for your work! You practically have a bed in your office!’

‘And how do you know that?’

‘Freddy told me.’ It had slipped out before she had time to catch it and Jude shot him a sheepish look. He might rub her up the wrong way but she knew that she would have hated the thought of being discussed behind her back. ‘He just mentioned it in passing,’ she amended.

‘You two seem to share quite a close relationship…considering it’s purely professional…’

‘I never said that it was purely professional…’

‘But you told me that you were working on a project with him.’

‘I am. Was. Am.’

‘Past tense? Present tense? Which is it to be? And you never said precisely what this so-called project is.’

‘I told you, that’s something I know Freddy would want to tell you about himself.’ She belatedly remembered that she was supposed to support him whenever and wherever possible. ‘And it’s very exciting.’

‘Well, I can’t wait to find out what it’s all about. I’m literally on the edge of my seat. If my little brother is involved, then it’s sure to be a non-starter. His business sense has always been fairly non-existent.’ He finished his coffee and pulled out a stool so that he could prop both feet up—something, she noted, he seemed quite at ease doing considering he was in someone else’s house. ‘So he told you that I’m his workaholic brother, did he? In between discussing his mystery project?’

‘You make it sound as though it’s a crime to be friends with Freddy.’

Cesar decided not to inform her that it would only be a crime should she want to adjust her position from friend to spouse.

‘I’m just curious. Project to friend? Friend to project? What was the order of events? How did you meet?’

Jude looked at him warily. That earnest expression on his face didn’t fool her a bit. He was taking small steps around her, looking for clues.

‘I’m a designer,’ she mumbled, trying to sort out how she could avoid divulging details about their meeting, which had happened courtesy of Imogen. ‘And he needed some stuff doing…’

‘Oh, yes. The stuff he wants to talk to me about. And, at that point, did you know how much Fernando was worth?’

‘I knew that’s where all your questions were leading!’

‘I’m that obvious?’ Cesar asked indifferently.

‘Yes, you’re that obvious, not that you care! I have to go and get changed.’ She stood up and gave him a withering look, which had zero effect. He still carried on calmly looking at her, as though he had all the time in the world to wait until she decided to deliver the answer he wanted to hear.

‘Please don’t bother on my account,’ Cesar drawled, taking in the shapely legs which had been disguised the night before in their jeans. For someone with dark hair and dark eyes, she was delicately pale and her skin was like satin. He had become used to a diet of women who slapped on make-up. Jude, he absent-mindedly noticed, was wearing none and her face was fresh and smooth. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and he imagined that she might have been a tomboy, climbing trees and doing everything the boys did.

Jade ignored him. ‘I haven’t been eyeing up your brother as marriage material so that I can get my hands on his fortune,’ she said tightly. ‘And it’s totally out of order for you to repay my hospitality by insulting me!’

‘Come again?’

‘I could have…left you to find your way round Canterbury in the snow so that you could source a hotel!’ Theoretically. He wasn’t to know that the pleading look Freddy had given her had warned her that he needed help just in case Cesar found himself programming his sat nav for his brother’s apartment—a very strong possibility considering his lack of familiarity with the city and the deteriorating weather. Okay, so maybe hospitality implied more than had actually been delivered, because hospitality implied a smiling welcome, but she was sticking to her guns. ‘You could have ended up lost and trapped in that silly car of yours.’

‘Silly car?’

Jude made an inarticulate, defiant sound under her breath and glared at him. ‘I’m not a gold-digger. I’m not even materialistic! I don’t believe that money can buy happiness. The opposite, in fact! I’ve worked with loads of really rich people who have been miserable as anything. In fact,’ she tacked on meaningfully, ‘are you happy because you work all the hours God made so that you can accumulate more money than anyone could possibly spend in a lifetime? Freddy says that you bury yourself in your work because you’ve never really recovered from…’ She went bright red and covered her treacherous mouth with her hand.

‘From what…?’ Cesar asked softly.

‘Nothing.’

‘What did my brother say?’

‘I really need to go and change now!’ She fled. She didn’t understand how she could have been so thoughtless, just lashing out at him because he had accused her of being a gold-digger. What he’d said meant nothing to her. She should have been able to hear him out and shrug it all off because whatever he thought was never going to be her problem. Instead…

She locked the bathroom door and leaned against it for a few seconds with her eyes closed, before turning on the shower and taking her time under the cascading water.

She felt better once she had showered and even better when she had jettisoned her silly nightie in favour of her favorite fitted jeans and a tight long-sleeved T-shirt. For some indefinable reason she defiantly wanted to show Cesar that she at least had a figure of sorts!

The smell of bacon sizzling greeted her halfway down the stairs and her stomach churned in immediate response. If this was Cesar at the stove, then he was clearly more domesticated than she’d thought he’d be, imagining this brooding billionaire to be the type who had never knowingly sought out any culinary device. She walked into the kitchen and watched for a few silent seconds as Cesar popped some bread in the toaster and then began to beat eggs in a bowl.

‘You ran away before you could tell me what other little gems Fernando has shared with you,’ Cesar said without turning around.

‘I’m sorry.’ Jude took a deep breath and went to sit at the table. She stared at the bandage, then looked at Cesar’s aristocratic profile. His face was a lesson in beauty, his features sharply, powerfully defined. A portrait artist would have given their right arm to paint him. He had rolled his shirtsleeves to the elbows. His hands were sinewy and strong and she looked away quickly. ‘I told you that you were out of order to insult me in my own home and I was out of order to bring up something which is none of my business. Can we call it quits? Maybe start arguing about something else?’

‘I take it he told you about Marisol,’ Cesar said flatly. He had never found himself in the position of talking about his private life before, even though his late wife was not exactly a subject that was out of bounds. Hell, check his profile on the Internet and up the information would come.

‘I’m very sorry.’

‘For what? For not, as he insinuated, recovering from her death?’ He leaned against the counter and met her gaze coolly, steadily.

‘Like I said, it’s none of my business.’

‘You’re right. It’s not, but if you want to make it your business, then feel free to look it up when your Internet connection’s been restored.’ Had he never recovered? Was that the general consensus whispered behind his back? No one had ever dared say anything like that to his face, not even his uncle in Madrid, to whom he was close. The thought of other people having opinions on his state of mind made his mouth tighten in anger but there was no point in venting any of that anger on the woman sitting opposite him. He never allowed other people’s opinions to have an effect on him and he wasn’t going to start now.

Briefly, though, he thought about his late wife, Marisol. She had been dainty and, peculiarly for a Spanish girl, fair. Cesar, just eighteen at the time, had taken one look at her and had known, in that instant, that he had to have her. It had been a union blessed by both sets of parents and Marisol, for that brief window when she had been alive, had lived up to every expectation. She had been the sweetest woman he’d ever met. She had cooked amazing meals, had not once complained at the hours he kept. She had been a woman born to be protected, looked after, sheltered and he had been more than happy to oblige. What man wouldn’t, for a soothing domestic life?

And since Marisol, although he had never contemplated a replacement, he had always been attracted to the same kind of woman. Unbearably pretty and willing to be at his beck and call. As luck would have it, things usually deteriorated with them when his boredom levels were breached, but that never bothered him. He wasn’t in it for the long haul. Did that mean that he had never recovered? That he couldn’t live life fully after a tragedy that had happened more than ten years ago?

He frowned at the wide brown eyes staring back at him and thought, irritably, that he would have been hard pressed to find a less soothing woman than her. Didn’t she know that men weren’t attracted to women who approached life like a bull in a china shop? He was fast coming to the conclusion that if his brother was involved in any way with the woman, aside from platonically, he was a candidate for the loony-bin.

‘And you can stop oozing sympathy,’ he grated.

‘I’m not oozing sympathy. I was just wondering how come you never settled down with someone else.’

‘Why haven’t you?’ He returned to his task of making them something to eat. It was unusual to find him behind a stove and his repertoire of dishes was limited, but he had never taken advantage of the family fortune in the same way that his brother had and consequently was more than capable of fending for himself.

‘I believe in kissing a few frogs so that I can recognise the prince when he comes along.’

‘And how many frogs have you kissed?’

‘I lose count.’

Several kissed frogs but only one who had become close enough for her to be seduced into thinking that he might be the one. It had been three years ago and it had ended amicably enough when he had sat her down and gently broken it to her that she wasn’t the woman for him, that he hoped they could remain friends. Remaining friends, she had later concluded, was just the coward’s way of exiting a relationship with the minimum amount of fuss. If a guy didn’t want some woman crying all over him then he did that gentle smiley thing and carried on about remaining friends, but a let-down was still a let-down and in retrospect Jude could have kicked herself for not at least asking him why. Instead, she had stuck out her chin and saved her tears for after he’d gone.

She had no intention of telling any of that to Cesar, however, and she was thankful that he wasn’t looking at her because, when he did, he always gave her the impression that he had some kind of weird insight into what was going on in her head.

‘That many…’

‘Yes, that many.’

‘And why did none of these frogs turn out to be the prince in disguise?’ He put a plate in front of her, brimming with bacon and eggs, far more than she could have eaten in a month of Sundays.

‘How is it that you can cook a meal and make a bed and your brother is so hopeless?’

‘Is that your not so subtle way of changing the subject?’ Cesar sat down, fork in hand, and began tucking into his breakfast, which was roughly double the amount he had set in front of her. ‘I find that it pays to be able to do everything for myself, even if I might choose not to, and that includes cooking and cleaning.’

‘Fine. In that case you can make yourself useful around here if you can’t drive back for a couple of hours…’ Jude glanced outside at the unpromising sight of snow flurries, which seemed to be reminding her that the weather forecasters might have had their fingers on the button when they’d predicted more snowfall. ‘I’m pretty useless at both.’ Their eyes met for an instant and Jude flushed. ‘Or at least uninterested.’

Cesar grunted. It was a grunt, Jude decided, that was laced with criticism. She could just feel it. The man didn’t have to actually say anything to make his opinions clear. Poor Freddy, written off by his big brother because he didn’t like wearing a suit and going into an office every day to stare at charts and profit and loss columns, having his ideas greeted with those grunts of disapproval.

‘I guess you’re one of those ultra-traditional men who think that all women should either be chained to a stove or else whistling a merry tune as they push a vacuum cleaner up and down the stairs,’ she said tetchily.

‘I admit that when it comes to the opposite sex I have pretty traditional views—am I letting myself in for a feminist lecture now? Because you seem to be very sensitive on the subject.’

‘Of course I’m not sensitive on the subject,’ Jude scoffed, stabbing a piece of bacon with her fork. She thought of James, the disappearing ex-boyfriend who had left smiling and apologising and wittering on about remaining friends. Eight months ago she had heard through a mutual acquaintance that he had since married a sweet blonde thing who had instantly become pregnant and they were both busily doing up a house somewhere in Wiltshire in preparation for the new arrival.

‘Most men are…’ he said provocatively. ‘Fernando included.’

‘Is that your way of warning me off him, should I have ideas above my station lurking at the back of my mind?’ She stood up, plate in hand, and went across to the sink, from which she had a spectacular view of increasing snow.

When she looked around, it was to find him clearing the rest of the table. In an ideal world he would have remained sitting, she supposed, having enjoyed a lavish breakfast prepared by his woman, who would tidy the kitchen without asking for help and then make him comfortable in the sitting room with a newspaper and a roaring fire. Curiosity reared its unwelcome head again and she caught herself wondering what these women of his looked like. Freddy had told her that he apparently had killer appeal when it came to the opposite sex.

‘Maybe—’ she smirked ‘—Freddy isn’t quite as traditional as you think.’

Cesar looked at her sharply and Jude shot him a mysterious smile. In actual fact, traditional-hearted Freddy had found his perfect match in Imogen because, never mind her past occupation, she was as conventional and feminine as they came and always had been. Barbie dolls had been her favourite toys at the age of seven, pink her favourite colour at the age of fourteen and she was a dream in the kitchen. While Jude had been playing football with the boys, her best friend had been experimenting with make-up and, for every botched meal Jude had scraped into the rubbish bin in Home Economics class, Imogen had produced its faultless equivalent. And enjoyed it!

‘Meaning what?’

‘Meaning you don’t give your brother enough credit.’ Well, that was certainly true enough. She had worked with Freddy from every angle when it came to the jazz club, had heard him explain his ideas lucidly and persuasively to accountants, had seen his fledgling plans slowly come to fruition without hitches…

‘I know Fernando better than you think.’ Did he, though? Would Fernando be attracted to a fiery, opinionated, mutinous, downright exasperating woman like this one? A woman who said whatever was on her mind and hang the consequences? Fernando, Cesar thought, would never be able to handle a woman like her! She had said that there was no romantic involvement between them. Was there? It annoyed him that his usual unerring accuracy at reading women seemed to be letting him down now.

‘Even though you never see him?’ Jude asked sweetly. She began washing the dishes.

‘I don’t see my brother because I literally don’t get the time.’ Cesar walked towards the kitchen door, thought better of leaving and turned back to look at her with a disgruntled, exasperated expression. ‘Yes, I work damn long hours. When I took over the company, it was in the throes of internal warfare. I stabilised it and hauled it into the twenty-first century, selling off what I had to and sinking money into speculative investments that paid off. None of that gets done sipping cocktails on a beach in the Caribbean or hitting the slopes in Aspen!’ He raked his fingers through his hair and glowered at her as she continued to pile the dishes haphazardly on the dish rack. ‘I’ve never known my brother to rise to the challenge of anything,’ Cesar heard himself saying. ‘And that includes his choice of women.’

‘And you do?’ Jude turned to look at him. He was leaning against the door frame and the strength of his personality seemed to fill the kitchen, unseen but powerful and suffocating.

His lack of an immediate answer supplied the information she wanted.

‘My choice of women is not the issue here.’

‘You should give Freddy a chance. He feels…’

‘Feels what…? I’m all ears.’

‘Inadequate compared to you. He feels that you’ll shoot him down in flames because he hasn’t followed in your footsteps. At the snap of your fingers, his trust fund will go up in smoke and I don’t suppose that’s the nicest feeling in the world.’

‘He’s told you all this, has he? Or are these loose interpretations based on a one-year relationship?’

‘He’s told me.’

‘Have you had sex with him?’

‘What?’

‘You heard me. You are clearly sleeping with Fernando, because your conversations seem pretty meaningful.’

‘Our conversations are normal.’ Jude was bright red, her hands clenched at her sides. ‘Normal people discuss how they feel about things, what their hopes and dreams are…’ And these had been with Imogen present, just random, casual conversations over spaghetti bolognese at his flat, with some music playing in the background and the three of them all having one too many glasses of wine and putting the world to rights. Cesar might invest something meaningful into her last statement but Jude wasn’t going to supply him with a blow-by-blow description of who said what and where and how and when.

‘You’ve vaguely answered part two of my question but what about part one?’

‘No, I haven’t slept with your brother, not that it’s any of your business.’

Cesar looked at her carefully. ‘Tell me something… If you’re so close to Fernando and you spend hours spilling your hearts out to each other and bonding, why is he so desperate to get his hands on his trust fund at this precise moment in time? He’s been more than happy to lead a carefree lifestyle on the allowance he gets for doing no work whatsoever, yet the last time I spoke to him he sounded desperate… Bit of a puzzle, that…’

‘His project,’ Jude stammered uneasily. And the fact that, while he did indeed get an allowance, he had always funded his lifestyle by sending his bills to Cesar to be paid. Cesar had, through devious means, known pretty much where his money went and could practically track the progress of his relationships by the gifts he had bought for whatever girlfriend he’d happened to be seeing at the time. In short, he had always been accountable. Silk dresses and diamonds, weekend breaks in exotic countries, hotel bills for two—his personal life vetted to a large extent by Cesar, who would step in if he deemed it necessary. Cesar, he had confided in Jude, was very hot on protecting the family fortune from unsuitable women but that had never bothered Freddy because he had never had any intention of getting too wrapped up with anyone. If bills for nursery equipment and baby gear began appearing on the statements, then Cesar would descend with frightening speed and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what his reaction would be when he saw Imogen. The trust fund would give him independence.

‘If I approve whatever scheme he has in mind, then I would be more than happy to invest in it and set aside the headache of putting Fernando in charge of staggering wealth when he has yet to prove that he would know what to do with it. So did he mention why the hurry?’

Jude tried to look as though she might be searching her memory bank for any helpful information on that front, then she shook her head and shrugged. ‘I guess he just wants to take control of his life. I mean, he is nearly twenty-five…’

‘Ancient.’

‘You were younger than that when you took charge of your empire, or whatever you want to call it.’

‘I was responsible.’

‘Of course. Silly me. Crazy to think that you might have had a trace of recklessness in your body.’

‘If by reckless you mean a healthy, active sex life with an interesting variety of women, then, I assure you, you couldn’t be further from the truth. If, on the other hand, you mean an ability to squander money on passing pleasures without any thought to the future, then you’re spot on. I’ll willingly confess to being ridiculously cautious…’

Jude blinked as her active mind hived off on the same unwelcome tangent that had kept her tossing and turning the night before.

Her breasts felt heavy and tender and the brush of her lacy bra over her nipples was almost painful.

‘I think…we should think about what we’re going to do with the day,’ she said hastily, folding her arms squarely in front of her. ‘I agree it would be silly for you to try and dig that car of yours out of the snow when there’s more falling, but there’s no point getting under each other’s feet.’

‘You should give lessons on how to be the perfect hostess.’

‘I’ve got some work I can be getting on with. In my office. Well, I have a little room off the sitting room that I use as an office, anyway. You can…’

‘Make myself scarce?’ He pushed himself away from the door frame, his sharp mind tallying their conversation and replaying it. She had been sincere in her denial that there was anything sexual between herself and Fernando but, that being the case, why her unease the minute his questions became too probing? Why did she behave like a cat on a hot tin roof in his presence?

He looked narrowly at her and the heightened colour in her cheeks, then his eyes drifted to those arms tightly folded over her chest. A very protective gesture, he thought. He knew that he could be intimidating. He liked that. It often helped to keep people at a distance, especially for a man like him, someone at the very pinnacle of his field, which was a situation that encouraged on the one hand sycophants, on the other predatory sharks who wouldn’t hesitate to cosy up to him while clutching knives behind their backs. It also helped as a silent reminder to any woman that, however physically close they got, he was not up for grabs.

Maybe that was it. Maybe she got jittery in his presence and, face it, he was an intruder in her house, snowbound and with zero means of transport out. Or maybe those whispered conversations he had noticed between his brother and her pointed to something going on under the surface, something that made her nervous around him.

Or maybe—and he mulled this last option over with a little kick of satisfaction—just maybe he made her nervous for a perfectly understandable reason. He was a red-blooded man and she, if he wasn’t mistaken, was a woman who was all fire where it mattered if only she knew it. Couldn’t pretty much everything in life go right back to the elemental?