Читать книгу Australia: In Bed with the Boss: The Marriage Decider / Their Wedding Day / His Boardroom Mistress - Emma Darcy, Emma Darcy - Страница 15

‘ACTUALLY, I was thinking about feeding other appetites,” Jake drawled, holding up a plastic carrier bag that held takeaway containers and a paper bag bulging with bottles of wine.

Amy flushed scarlet. She knew it had to be scarlet because her whole body felt as though it was going up in flames. Even her midriff.

“First things first,” Jake burbled on. “Moving is a hot, thirsty business and you’ve probably been run ragged today, too tired by now to think of bothering with a proper dinner, even if you did get provisions in.”

Which she hadn’t, except for absolute basics.

“And since you insisted on doing all this on your own, I thought you might welcome company at this point. Winding down at the end of the day, putting your feet up, enjoying some tasty food and a glass of wine…”

He was doing it to her again, pouring out a reasonable line of logic she couldn’t argue with. Except he was here at the door of her home. And it wasn’t business hours. And he certainly wasn’t dressed for business. This was personal.

With Jake Carter, personal with a woman meant…

His eyes twinkled their devilish mischief. “But if you want to change your mind about going to bed with me later on in the evening…”

“There! I knew it!” she shot at him triumphantly, having worked her way out of the hot fluster.

“Whatever you decide is okay by me, Amy,” he blithely assured her. “I wouldn’t dream of going where I wasn’t wanted.”

“I didn’t invite you here, Jake,” she swiftly pointed out.

“Telepathy,” he declared. “It’s been coming at me in waves all day. Couldn’t ignore it.”

“I haven’t thought of you once!”

“Subconscious at work. No one here to share things with. Low point coming up.”

Suspicion glared back at him. “Sounds more like psychology to me.” Get the girl when she’s down!

“Well, you could be right about that,” he grandly conceded. “I guess I was compelled by this sense of responsibility towards you.”

“What responsibility?”

“Well, I said…Jake, my boy, you more or less pushed Amy into that apartment. There she is, without her familiars, and the least you can do is turn up and make sure she’s okay.”

“I’m okay,” she insisted.

His mouth moved into its familiar quirk. His womantrap eyes glowed golden with charming appeal. “I brought dinner with me.”

No one, Amy reflected, knew the art of temptation better than Jake Carter. She could smell the distinct aroma of hot Chinese mixtures. Her stomach had unknotted enough to recognise it was empty. More to the point, sparring with Jake had banished the black beast of loneliness. If she sent him away…

“Dinner does sound good,” she admitted.

“I hate eating alone,” Jake chimed in, pressing precisely the button that had Amy wavering.

“I wouldn’t mind sharing dinner with you,” she said with arch emphasis.

“Sharing is always better.” He cocked an eyebrow in hopeful appeal. “Can I come in now? I promise I won’t even ask you to show me the bedroom.”

No, he’d just sweep her off there, Amy thought, and the awful part was, the idea had a strong attraction. But he didn’t know that…couldn’t know it…and she was making the rules here.

“Be my guest,” she said, standing back to wave him in. “You know where the kitchen is,” she urged, not wanting him to linger beside her.

He breezed past, never one to push his luck when the writing was on the wall. As Amy shut the door after him, it occurred to her she might be driving the loneliness beast out, but she’d let the wolf in, a wolf who’d huffed and puffed very effectively, blowing her door down, so to speak.

On the other hand, he wasn’t about to eat her for dinner. He’d brought Chinese takeaway. She could manage this situation. But she wouldn’t feel comfortable staying in these clothes. She was too…bare.

Jake was happily unpacking his carrier bag, setting out his offerings along the kitchen counter. His white shorts snugly outlined the taut curve of particularly wellshaped buttocks. When it came to cute butts, Jake Carter could line up against any gym buff. As for power-packed thighs…Amy took a grip on herself, wrenching her mind off the seductive promise of so much impressive male muscle.

Looks weren’t everything.

So what if Steve had been on the lean side in comparison?

“Lemon chicken, sweet and sour pork, Mongolian lamb, braised king prawns, chilli beef, fried rice.” Jake shot her a dazzling grin as he finished listing his menu. “All ready for a banquet.”

“Good choice,” she commented as blandly as she could.

He laughed. “I have acquired some knowledge of your preferred tastes, Amy.”

It surprised her. “You noticed?”

“There isn’t much I haven’t noticed about you in the two years you’ve been at my side.” His gaze skated over her skimpy clothes. “Though I haven’t seen you look quite so fetching as you do this evening. Very au naturel.”

Amy instantly folded her arms across her midriff but she was acutely aware the action didn’t hide the tightening of her nipples.

His eyes teased the flare of hard defence in hers. “Just as well I’m a man of iron control.”

The need for evasive action was acute. “I was about to take a shower and clean up.”

“Go right ahead.” He waved expansively. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get things ready for us here.”

If he thought she was going to reappear in a sexy negligee, he was in for severe disappointment.

All the same, as Amy stood under the shower, soaping off the stickiness of the long, humid day, she couldn’t help wondering how well she stacked up against Jake’s other women. Thanks to her aerobics classes and a healthy diet, she was in pretty good shape, no flab or cellulite anywhere. No sag in her breasts.

She’d always been reasonably content with her body and normally she wasn’t self-conscious about being nude. Not that she intended stripping off for Jake Carter. Besides which, he probably only fancied her because she remained a challenge to him. What physical attributes she had were really irrelevant.

With Jake it was always the challenge. Had to be. Which was why he lost interest once he’d won. At least, that was how it looked to Amy. Though she couldn’t see there was much winning in it when women fell all over him anyway.

She decided to wash her hair, as well. It would do him good to wait. Show him she was not an eager beaver for his scintillating company. Besides, she felt more in control if she was confident of her appearance; fresh, clean, tidy, and properly clothed.

By the time she finished blow-drying her hair it was full of bounce and so was she, looking forward to keeping Jake in his place. She left her face bare of make-up since she wasn’t out to impress. Jake could have that part of her au naturel.

Deciding jeans and a loose T-shirt would make a clear statement—demure and dampening—she tied the belt firmly on her little silk wraparound for the dash from bathroom to bedroom, opened the door to the hallway, and was instantly jolted from her set plan by a flow of words from Jake.

“She’s in the shower, making herself comfortable.”

He had to be talking to someone.

“Would you like a glass of champagne?” he burbled on, apparently having invited the someone into her apartment! “I’ve just poured one for Amy and myself.”

“What the hell is going on here?”

The incredulous growl thumped into Amy’s heart. It was unmistakably Steve’s voice!

“Pardon?”

“Amy can’t afford a place like this.” Angry, belligerent suspicion.

The shock of hearing her ex-partner gave way to a fierce wave of resentment. How dare he judge or criticise!

“I gave her a raise in salary,” Jake blithely replied. “She deserved it. Best P.A. in the world. Is it yes to the champers?”

“No. I only came to see that she was all right.”

Guilt trip, Amy thought, writhing over how she’d been so hopelessly devastated last week.

“From the look of it I could have saved myself the trouble,” he went on, the sneer in his voice needling Amy beyond bearing.

She whirled through the archway in a rage of pride, coming to a stage-stop as she took in the scene, Jake by the table he’d set for their dinner, brandishing a bottle of champagne, Steve standing by the kitchen counter, keeping his distance, obviously put out by her luxurious living area and Jake’s presence.

His carefully cultivated yuppie image—the long floppy bang of hair dipping almost over one eye, the white collarless linen shirt and black designer jeans—somehow looked immature, stacked up against the raw male power so casually exhibited by Jake, and for once Amy was pleased Steve came off second-best in comparison. She fully intended to rub it into her ex-lover’s ego. Let him be flattened this time!

“Good heavens! How on earth did you get here, Steve?” she trilled in amazement.

He gawped at her, making her extremely conscious of her nakedness under the silk and lace bit of froth, which, of course, he recognised as part of the seductive and sinfully expensive lingerie she’d bought herself for her last birthday, intending to pepper up their sex life. The outcome had been disappointingly limp, undoubtedly because he’d been bedding the blonde.

“Mmmh…” The sexy purr from Jake was meant to inflame. “I love your idea of comfortable.”

“I’m so glad,” she drawled, seized by the reckless need to prove she wasn’t a downtrodden cast-off. Abandoning all caution, she ruffled her squeaky-clean hair provocatively as she sauntered towards Jake, knowing full well the action would cause a sensual slide of silk over her curves. “Champagne poured?”

“Ready to fizz into your bloodstream, darling.”

The wicked wolf eyes were working overtime as he handed her a brimming glass. One thing she could say for Jake, he was never slow on the uptake. Right at this moment, his response was positively exhilarating. In the hunk stakes, Jake Carter was a star.

“Darling!” Steve squawked.

Hopefully he was feeling mortifyingly outshone! And very much the odd one out in this threesome!

“I’ve always thought she was,” Jake tossed at him. “I should thank you for bowing out, Steve. It freed Amy up for me, got rid of her misplaced loyalty, opened her eyes…”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Steve chopped in, furious at finding himself upstaged by her boss.

“Which reminds me, where is your bride-to-be?” Amy asked silkily, having fortified herself with a fine slug of alcohol. “Lurking outside to see that you don’t stay too long?”

“No, she’s not!”

“Well, if I were her, I wouldn’t trust you out of my sight. Not after working so hard to get a ball and chain on you.”

Let his free spirit wriggle on that barb, Amy thought bitterly. She sipped some more champagne to dilute the upsurge of bile from her stomach.

Steve’s face bloomed bright red. To Amy, it was a very satisfying colour. Much better than the pallid white he’d left on her face a week ago.

“She knows I’m here. I told her…”

“And just how did you know where to come, Steve?” she inquired with sweet reason. “I haven’t given this address to anyone.”

“Except me,” Jake popped in, shifting to slide his arm around her shoulder in a man-in-possession hug. “We’ve moved so much closer in the past few days.”

Amy snuggled coquettishly, getting quite a charge out of the hip and thigh contact.

Steve looked as if he was about to burst a blood vessel. Which served him right, having thrown a blonde and a baby in her face. He clenched his jaw and bit out his explanation.

“I went to the Bondi apartment this morning and saw our stuff being carried out to the removalist van…”

“Our stuff?” She couldn’t believe he was backtracking on the division of their property. How crass could he get in the circumstances? “It was agreed this was my stuff.”

“Mostly, yes. But there were little things I left behind. Overlooked in…well, not wanting to make things worse for you.”

“Worse for whom?” she demanded with arch scepticism. “The great evader couldn’t get out fast enough. That’s the truth of it, Steve.”

He flushed. “Have it your way. But I still want my things. And since you’d obviously packed up the lot, I followed the van here, then gave you time to unpack…”

“How considerate of you! What things?”

“Well, there were photographs and mementos…”

“I threw them all out.”

“You…what?”

Amy shrugged. “Unwanted baggage. What’s gone is gone,” she declared and proceeded to drain her glass as though to celebrate the fact.

“One never enjoys being reminded of mistakes, Steve,” Jake remarked wisely.

“You could have called me first,” Steve spluttered accusingly.

“Sorry.” She slid a sultry look up at Jake. “I’ve been somewhat distracted this week.”

He instantly brushed his mouth over the top of her hair, murmuring, “Amy, I’ve got to tell you that scent you wear is extremely stimulating.”

She wasn’t wearing any scent. Unless he meant her shampoo and conditioner. It occurred to her she was playing with fire but the warmth coursing through her felt so good she didn’t care.

“Goddammit! I did my best to be decent to you,” Steve bellowed.

“Oh? You call getting another woman pregnant being decent?” Amy flared.

“I bet you were already sneaking behind my back…”

“Amy sneak?” Jake laughed at him. “She is the most confrontationist woman I know. Sparks and spice and all things nice.”

Steve glared furiously at her. “And I was fool enough not to believe Brooke when she told me you just couldn’t wait to have it off with him.”

“Well, sometimes Brooke does get things right,” Amy fired back heedlessly.

“I feel exactly the same way,” Jake declared with fervour. “In fact, I can hardly wait for you to leave.”

“And you do have Brooke’s party to go to,” Amy pressed. “Apart from which, I’m sure your wedding will supply more suitable photos and mementos for your future.” She lifted her glass in a mock toast. “Happy days!”

Unfortunately there was no champagne left in it to drink.

“Darling…” Jake purred “…let me take that empty glass.” He plucked it out of her hand and set it on the table. “Bad luck you didn’t get what you came for, Steve,” he burbled on as he swept Amy into his embrace. “But as my girl here says, what’s gone is gone. And it’s well past time you were gone, too. Would you mind letting yourself out?”

“You know what she called you, Carter?” Steve yelled at him, his face twisting in triumphant scorn. “Jake the rake!”

“Well, fair’s fair,” Jake said, totally unperturbed. He whipped off his T-shirt and spread her hands against his bare chest. “You can do some raking, too, Amy. I’d like that. I’d like that very much.” And his voice wasn’t a purr anymore. More like the growl of a wolf with his dinner in view.

It should have frightened her. This whole scene was flying out of her control. Yet the fierce yellow blaze in his eyes was mesmerising and his skin had a magnetic pulse that compelled contact.

“You’ll regret it,” Steve jeered, but the words seemed to come to her through a fog, setting them at an irrelevant distance, and the door slam that followed them was no more than an echo of the throb in her temples.

“Let me rake you as you’ve never been raked before,” Jake murmured, the low throaty sound hitting on some wild primitive chord that leapt in eager response, and his fingers were running through her hair, tilting her head back.

Then it was too late to pull away, even if she’d found the will to do it, because his mouth took possession of hers and she was sucked into a vortex of irresistible sensation from which there was no escape, nor any wish to. The desire to drown in what Jake Carter could do to her was utterly, savagely overwhelming.