Читать книгу In Bed With...Collection - Emma Darcy, Emma Darcy - Страница 28

BRYCE saw the belligerent tilt of her chin and her mouth compressing into a line of determination as she reached for the menu. He had no difficulty in reading what those telltale expressions meant. The boats were burnt. There was no way back. Not tonight nor tomorrow. No point in not making the most of her time with him.

He smiled to himself. The net was closed. Not exactly how he’d meant to do it. In fact, he’d lost the plot completely in his somewhat intemperate need to have her, but he was now satisfied he hadn’t hurt his end purpose by it. He may well have improved his chances of convincing her to marry him. Mutual desire was a strong persuader. And he had the rest of the night to capitalise on it.

He moved his legs to lie in tandem with hers, enjoying the long silky slide of her calves and thighs. She was certainly built perfectly for him. The way they fitted together was especially satisfying. He looked forward to much more of it.

‘What are your favourite foods?’ he asked, wanting eye contact with her.

Her lashes slowly lifted. From this distance the colour of her eyes looked darker, more a warm brown. They still lit up her face. She had a wonderful face. Not classically beautiful, like Kristen’s, but Kristen’s was like a smooth mask in comparison. Sunny’s was alive, projecting a wealth of fascinating expression.

‘I love lobster,’ she stated with open fervour. ‘I see they’ve got Maine lobster on the menu, so I’m definitely having that.’

He laughed at the rich satisfaction in her voice. She truly was a delight in every sense. He would enjoy having her as his wife. ‘What else?’ he prompted.

She listed everything she found tempting, displaying a relish for food that whetted his own appetite. He couldn’t remember ever having such fun, discussing a menu. They were discussing the merits of a selection of sweets when the telephone rang, interrupting the pleasurable anticipation of a superb meal.

‘Probably announcing the arrival of your luggage,’ Bryce commented, hauling himself out of the bath to deal with the call since the telephone, although in the bathroom, was out of his reach and he didn’t want Sunny answering it.

She laughed at the foam flaking off him as he moved. ‘You make a great snowstorm.’

‘Maybe we should have the Bombe Alaska for sweets,’ he tossed at her, grinning as he snatched up a towel.

‘No. I really fancy the raspberry soufflé.’

‘It’ll probably sink before it gets here. Think about it.’

Her eyes chided him. ‘Spoilsport.’

He laughed, loving the natural interplay between them. Sunny was much more relaxed with him now, not on guard at all. Which had to bring her closer to what he wanted.

Having wiped his hands, he picked up the receiver, expecting a quick communication. ‘Templar here.’

‘Ah, Mr. Templar. Miss York’s luggage has arrived. And so has a Mr. Derek Marsden, demanding to see Miss York. He claims she is his fiancée.’

‘No way,’ Bryce returned tersely.

‘He is being very insistent, sir. One could say threatening, if you take my meaning.’

Bryce tensed, a savage aggression instantly gripping him. The last thing he needed was Sunny’s ex-fiancé hanging around, creating scenes, and possibly swaying Sunny off the course she had chosen. He had to protect the ground he’d won.

‘I’ll come down and deal with it. Give me a few minutes.’

‘Thank you, sir. I’ll hold the gentleman here. Should I send the luggage up?’

‘No. Not yet. I’ll deal with that, too.’

‘As you wish, sir.’

He slammed the receiver down, startling Sunny. ‘Something wrong?’ she asked, wide-eyed at his change of mood.

He grimaced an apology. ‘A business problem.’

‘Not my luggage?’

‘Still coming,’ he answered, quickly towelling himself dry. ‘I have to go and meet an associate in the lobby, Sunny. It should only take ten minutes or so. While I’m gone, call room service and order what we’ve decided upon.’ He forced a smile to put her at ease with the situation. ‘You get to choose the selection of sweets. Okay?’

She caught the undercurrent of urgency. ‘Is it a bad problem?’

‘No.’ He relaxed his face into a wry expression. ‘Just vexing that it’s come up when I’d rather be with you.’

She smiled. ‘Then I’ll try not to miss you.’

‘Think of great food,’ he teased, and was off, striding for the bedroom and the clothes he had to put on before facing the rival he had to dismiss.

He couldn’t allow this Derek Marsden any room for worming his way back into Sunny’s affections. Bryce frowned, wondering how Marsden had picked up on where she was. He hadn’t given out that information.

He dressed at lightning speed, his mind ticking over possibilities. Marsden had arrived at the same time as Sunny’s luggage. Possibly he had gone to her hotel room, found her clothes and toiletries being packed by staff, then followed the trail, greasing palms with big tips to learn what was going on.

Dog in the manger stuff, Bryce decided. If Marsden had really valued Sunny, she wouldn’t be here in this suite. No doubt it was his name being involved that was sticking in Marsden’s craw. In any case, he had no claim on her. She had given him back his ring. The break was clear-cut and Bryce aimed to keep it that way. No second chance for Marsden.

Sunny was still in the bathroom, happily ignorant of her ex-fiancé’s intrusion on the scene. Hoping to make his absence as brief as possible, Bryce made a fast exit from the suite, summoned the elevator, and waited impatiently for its arrival. His mind skated through his impression of the man he’d seen at the blackjack table this afternoon—about the same height as Sunny, fairish hair, clean-cut type of college-man looks, lean build.

Physically, Bryce knew he was the far more intimidating man. He didn’t expect a fist-fight, but Marsden could turn ugly, faced with the frustration of losing out. The trick was to get him to accept defeat, and if possible, allow him some dignified retreat.

The elevator arrived. The descent to the lobby was uninterrupted. Bryce spotted Marsden near the reception desk but proceeded there without giving any sign of recognition. They had never personally met and Bryce had no intention of displaying any knowledge of him. He directed an inquiring gaze to the clerk who had handled his check-in.

Marsden stepped forward before an introduction was made. ‘Mr. Templar,’ he called aggressively.

Bryce paused, raising a challenging eyebrow at the man accosting him. His suit was crumpled, his eyes bloodshot, and he was clearly the worse for having imbibed too much alcohol. Possibly a belligerent drunk.

‘I’m Derek Marsden,’ he announced. ‘Of the Sydney branch of Templar Resources.’

‘Indeed?’ Bryce returned frostily. ‘I understand you’re causing a problem here. What concern do you have?’

He rocked back on his heels, glaring at Bryce. ‘I want to see Sunny.’ His hand lifted, pointing an accusing finger. ‘I know she’s here. I know she’s with you. And you have no right to stop me from seeing her. She’s my fiancée.’

‘Miss York is certainly with me,’ Bryce acknowledged. ‘We are negotiating her transfer to a new position in Los Angeles. As to her being your fiancée, Miss York has declared herself free of commitments and she is certainly not wearing an engagement ring.’

He flushed. ‘We had an argument. She took it off. That’s what I want to see her about. Fix it all up again.’

‘Then I’d be obliged if you’d try doing so in your own time, Marsden. Not mine. This is a business meeting and you are interrupting without invitation.’

‘So what is her luggage doing here if it’s business?’ he jeered, turning nasty.

‘It was brought here at Miss York’s request,’ Bryce replied, keeping a cool calm. ‘I understand she does not wish to return to the conference hotel. Perhaps you are the reason why, Marsden.’

The edge of contempt stung him into defence. ‘I just want to talk to her. Get things straight. She’s gone off half-cocked if she’s discussing a transfer and that won’t do you any good when she comes to her senses.’

‘Miss York has presented herself to me as a free agent and I see no reason to give you the opportunity to harrass her. She is at liberty to contact you if she so wishes. Now if you’ll excuse me…’

Bryce started to turn away.

‘She’s mine!’ came the seething claim as Marsden grabbed him by the arm.

Bryce squared his shoulders and cast a quailing look at the slighter man. ‘You work for Templar Resources, Marsden?’ he said quietly, threat embodied in every word.

The angry glaze in the bleary blue eyes wavered.

‘You are not doing yourself any favours here,’ Bryce continued quietly. ‘I suggest you return to your hotel, sleep off this…unwise burst of aggression…and catch your flight back to Sydney in the morning…where you may still have a job.’

The hand dropped away.

Marsden stood slack-jawed, not having foreseen these consequences.

Bryce had no compunction whatsoever in using the power of his position to get this man out of Sunny’s life. He signalled the concierge who instantly hurried over. ‘Please get Mr. Marsden a taxi and see him into it,’ he instructed and nodded towards a couple of security guards who could assist if necessary. ‘Put the fare on my tab.’

‘I’ll pay for it myself,’ Marsden blurted out in fierce resentment.

Bryce subjected him to one more icy look. ‘As you wish. Goodnight, Marsden. I hope you have a safe trip home.’

He shouldered past the concierge and marched off towards the exit doors. Bryce watched him out, not quite sure he’d read the man correctly. Australians had a reputation for bucking authority, going their own way. Still, he’d given Marsden something to think about and he hoped it was enough to make him realise there was no chance of a reconciliation with Sunny.

He moved over to the clerk he’d dealt with at the reception desk. ‘The bellhop can bring up Miss York’s luggage now. If there’s any more trouble from Mr. Marsden, let me know.’

‘Certainly, Mr. Templar.’

He shared the elevator with the bellhop. Sunny’s luggage comprised a medium-sized suitcase and a standard carry-on, obviously an economic travelling wardrobe, enough to suit what was required for a conference with its various functions, but not enough for a prolonged stay. Some shopping would need to be done.

He dismissed the bellhop at the door to the suite, carrying in the luggage himself. Seeing no sign of Sunny in the living room, he took the bags upstairs, expecting to find her there. She was not in the bedroom. Nor the bathroom. The yellow suit was gone from where it had been dropped on the floor. So were her other garments.

Bryce stared at the empty space that was no longer littered with her clothes. Unfamiliar feelings—fear, panic, an intolerable sense of loss—started screwing him up inside. His mind literally jammed over the thought she had gone…left him…was even now on her way back to Derek Marsden. He should not have given her any time alone to reconsider what she was doing.

Or maybe he was jumping the gun.

He hadn’t searched the entire penthouse.

With his heart pounding harder than if he’d run a marathon, Bryce made a fast sweep through the other upstairs rooms. Nothing! No sign of her presence anywhere!

‘Sunny!’ he roared as he reached the staircase and started down it.

‘Yes?’

He stopped dead, his head swivelling to her voice. She was there, standing in the opened doorway to the outside patio. Her hair spilled in glorious disarray around the huge collar of an oversized white bathrobe. She hadn’t dressed. Her feet were bare.

For several moments they stared at each other. It hit Bryce that she looked very vulnerable, caught in a time-warp between the past and the future, not knowing quite where she was or what she was doing here. He was her only focus right now.

Was he being fair to her?

Would she take Marsden back if the guy cleaned up his act and grovelled enough?

‘Is everything all right?’ she asked, seeking guidance.

‘Yes,’ he asserted, determination sweeping back. He’d be a better husband for her than Marsden. ‘Everything settled,’ he assured her, walking down the rest of the stairs. ‘I took your bags up. They came when I was in the lobby.’

‘Thank you.’ She looked discomforted by that information, half turning back to the patio as she added, ‘I was out looking at the view. All the neon lights along The Strip…’

‘You’re the best sight of all, Sunny,’ he said warmly, crossing the living room to reach her. ‘I was just thinking how much I’d like to come home to you every night. Exactly like this.’

Her gaze veered back to his and he caught the sense she wanted to believe him, but was uncertain of filling that role. He smiled, wanting to convince her of his pleasure in her. It was no lie.

‘Did you get onto room service and order our dinner?’

She smiled back. ‘I did. And I hope you’re really hungry, Bryce.’

‘I am.’

For you.

And that was no lie, either.

He drew her into his embrace. Her eyes were liquid amber, silently, eloquently asking if this was right, or was she hopelessly astray in being here with him.

He kissed her to burn away the doubt.

There was no doubt in his mind.

He wanted her as his wife and she was going to be his wife. Whatever he had to do to win her, he’d do.