Читать книгу Misbehaving Under the Mistletoe - Heidi Rice - Страница 12

CASSIE focused on evening out her breathing as the chauffeur-driven car pulled away from the kerb and the lights of The Chesterton blurred behind them. Going out on the town with a devastatingly sexy guy to one of London’s hottest nightspots was exactly what she needed to dynamite herself out of her pre-Christmas funk. And getting to do it in serious style was not going to intimidate her.

She shouldn’t over-analyse this situation and second-guess her behaviour. Her confidence had taken a huge knock when she’d walked in on Lance and Tracy. He hadn’t been faithful to her, and she’d thought she’d moved on. But the truth was a tiny part of her had always blamed herself. She hadn’t done enough, been exciting enough to keep him interested. And that nasty little seed had festered ever since, making her doubt herself. Tonight would be about getting that part of herself back. And moving on in body as well as spirit.

A warm palm came to rest on her leg. Jace rubbed his thumb across her kneecap and she trembled, the heat seeping through the luxury silk he’d ordered to replace her wet leggings.

‘We won’t stay long. There’s no need to be nervous.’

His dark gaze devoured her, the promise in his eyes so compelling nervous energy turned into the sharp tug of sexual arousal.

‘I’m not nervous,’ she said and realised she wasn’t. Not about going to this event with him anyway. It would give her a little time to prepare herself for what was going to happen later. And getting to know a bit more about the man she was planning to have her first and probably only wild fling with might not be a bad thing.

Added to that, she enjoyed social situations, meeting new people. And getting the chance to see Jace with his friends intrigued her. At school, he’d always been a loner despite the never-ending stream of girlfriends—unlike most of the other kids, he hadn’t belonged to any specific clique, he’d never turned up for any after-school clubs or events and he hadn’t participated in any of the sports teams. She suspected seeing how different he was now from that misfit boy would be another revelation.

‘Whose party is it?’ Assuming it was a party.

He lifted his hand off her leg, tucked one of the curls behind her ear as he hitched his shoulder in a lazy shrug. ‘Just an associate. She’s the reason I’m in London. And believe me, if she hadn’t insisted on meeting up tonight, we wouldn’t be here.’ He leaned across the seat and kissed the side of her neck. Her pulse galloped against her skin. ‘I can think of a few other things I’d much rather be doing,’ he murmured. He took a deep breath in. ‘You smell delicious.’

She.

Cassie’s mind seized on the word as she struggled not to get sidetracked by the feel of his lips tracing across her collarbone. The man had seriously talented lips. ‘Who is she?’

‘Hmm?’ he said nonchalantly, his hand moving to her waist.

‘Are you involved with her?’ She forced the question out, felt the shimmer of regret when his lips stopped nuzzling.

She couldn’t see his expression clearly in the dim light of the car, her heart beating hard in her chest as she waited for a reply. She should have asked this question sooner. A lot sooner. She knew that she was young, free and single, as Nessa had put it. But she’d got so carried away with her own fantasies, she hadn’t stopped to check if he was. She knew what kind of a guy he was where women were concerned. He hadn’t exactly disguised it. She had no right to feel disappointed. But still the thought that he might be attached made her stomach turn over.

He touched her cheek, ran his thumb down to her chin. ‘Exactly how much of a jerk do you think I am?’

The question sounded amused, but underneath she detected an edge. The breath she hadn’t realised she was holding gushed out. She told herself the relief was purely physical. Having psyched herself up to enjoy tonight, it would be devastating to have the prize whisked away at the last minute.

‘It’s not that …’ She wasn’t judging him. She didn’t have the right to judge him. This was just a one-night deal. For both of them. But even so, she would never allow herself to hurt another woman the way she’d been hurt. The way her mother had been hurt. ‘It’s just, I want to be sure you’re not in a relationship. I wouldn’t feel right sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend.’

Jace stiffened at the question. He hated being asked about his personal life.

But this was his own stupid fault. He could hardly blame her for wanting to know more about him. He’d rushed things, indulged himself and this was the inevitable result.

He hadn’t planned to get so carried away earlier. Had only planned to kiss her, but once he’d tasted her, she’d been so delicious, her response so artlessly seductive, he’d been consumed by the desire to taste more, like a starving man at a banquet, desperate to tuck in. The sound of her shocked little sighs as he’d stroked her thigh, the weight of her plump breasts pillowed against his chest, and the sultry Christmas scent of her hair had been so damned erotic he’d been rock hard in seconds. She’d been slick and wet and ready for him and the feel of her contracting around his fingers had nearly made him come in his pants. He’d had to use every last ounce of his control not to rip her clothes off and bury himself deep inside her. All thoughts of Helen’s stupid party and the reasons why he’d flown three and a half thousand miles across the Atlantic had shot right out of his head. The desire to stay in the suite and spend the time devouring Cassie Fitzgerald instead had been all but irresistible. Which was exactly why he’d resisted it.

He should have won an Oscar for the performance he’d given, pretending he wasn’t as affected as he looked. But he’d forced himself to hold back. Because he’d learned from experience that losing control and rushing into sex was never a good idea. He didn’t do that any more and—once he’d managed to get his blood pressure back out of the danger zone—he’d remembered why.

Taking her to Helen’s party for an hour had presented the perfect way to curb his lust without risking her running off. And seeing Helen again would bring him face to face with all the reasons why he couldn’t afford to let his guard down with any woman—even one as apparently guileless as Cassie.

Given all of that, it shouldn’t matter that she’d assumed the worst of him. He’d stopped caring about other people’s opinions when he was a boy—when he’d figured out that it really made no difference what he did, they would always think the worst. But even Helen’s constant and completely unfounded accusations of infidelity hadn’t bothered him as much as the disappointment and resignation he could see in Cassie’s wide blue eyes.

He didn’t know Cassie and he didn’t want to know her other than in a purely physical sense. The only connection they shared was a live-wire sexual chemistry that would soon burn out, once they’d both had their fill of each other. But even so, he couldn’t quite deny the knot of tension in his shoulders.

‘I’m not in a relationship,’ he replied, struggling to keep his voice casual. ‘And I wouldn’t be trying to seduce you if I were.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t mean to imply …’ she cleared her throat ‘ … that you weren’t honourable.’

The earnest statement was so sincere, he laughed, the tension dissolving as quickly as it had come. Settling his other hand on her waist, he dragged her closer. The movement tightened the seat belt under her breast and drew his gaze down to the enticing swell of her cleavage.

‘Cassie, the one thing I’ve never been is honourable.’ He pressed his face into her hair, let his lips linger on the fluttering pulse beneath her ear. ‘If you had any idea how I plan to take advantage of you later tonight, you’d know exactly how dishonourable I am.’

She gave a husky little laugh that had his insides twisting into knots of a different kind. She tilted her head back; her bright gaze met his. ‘I don’t remember agreeing to come back with you tonight.’

‘Yeah, but you will,’ he said, his confidence returning full force as he saw her tongue dart out to wet her bottom lip. His palm rode down the curve of her hip, then snuck under her coat to caress the top of her thigh. ‘How about I remind you how persuasive I can be?’

She grabbed his wrist, brought it firmly back to her waist. ‘Let’s not,’ she said, her lips tilting in a nervous smile. ‘We wouldn’t want to shock the chauffeur.’

He lifted his hand to cup her cheek. ‘Wouldn’t we?’

She wiggled her eyebrows at him playfully. ‘Not while he’s driving.’

As if on cue, the screen slid down and the man in question spoke. ‘We’ve arrived at the restaurant, Mr Ryan.’

‘That was quick.’ Too damn quick.

‘Traffic was surprisingly light tonight, sir,’ the driver replied.

Releasing the catch on Cassie’s seat belt, Jace took her hand in his. ‘Don’t bother to get out, Dave,’ he said through the partition.

Opening the car door, he stepped out, tugging Cassie out behind him.

‘See you back here in an hour,’ he said to the chauffeur as he closed the car door. An hour should be more than sufficient to calm himself down and make sure he was completely in control of this situation before he jumped Cassie again.

Cassie shivered as the car accelerated away. Sliding his palms under the opening of her coat, he placed a quick kiss on her forehead below her hairline. He wasn’t risking going anywhere near her lips again until they had some privacy. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

Taking her hand firmly in his, he strode towards the entrance to the restaurant, impatience in every stride as he listened to the tap of her boot heels against the paving stones.

Taking a time-out to slow things down had been the smart thing to do, but right now, with a whole hour ahead of him before he could get her naked, he couldn’t help wishing he’d been a lot more stupid.

Erotic anticipation rippled through Cassie’s system as she stepped out into the lobby of the Tower’s eighth floor. Her skin felt tight and itchy, and her pulse pounded against her throat like a metronome as Jace’s masculine scent teased her nostrils, and his rough palm squeezed hers. Tonight would be an adventure that she intended to enjoy. For once she wasn’t going to worry about tomorrow, she was going to concentrate on now.

Relax. Enjoy.

She repeated Nessa’s mantra in her head. Then let out a staggered breath as Jace led her into a panoramic rooftop bar, its sleek lines and streamlined elegance reminding her of a vintage thirties ocean liner. Strobes of blue fluorescent light reflected off the forty-foot bar’s steel panelling and illuminated a crowd dressed in everything from exclusive ball gowns and designer suits to artfully ripped denim. The loud buzz of conversation and the clink of glasses were only partially masked by the backing beat of drums and bass-guitar riffs coming from a live band at the far end of the room. Cassie’s astonished gaze riveted on the wall of glass to her left, which framed a breathtaking view of the Thames’ North Bank and the City of London beyond. The majesty of St Paul’s Cathedral dome spotlit in the frosty twilight broke up the geometric shapes of the City’s glaringly modern financial district.

Cassie hesitated, her fingers flexing in Jace’s hand. ‘Wow, no wonder this place is so popular.’

His grip tightened. ‘Yeah,’ he said, not sounding very impressed. ‘Helen always knew how to throw a party.’

‘Who’s Helen?’ she asked. But before she got a reply, Jace stiffened beside her. His jaw clenched as a tall woman in floating red silk made her way through the crowd towards them. The woman’s figure was so thin and delicate, her collarbone stood out against the wispy straps of her gown. Either she was a supermodel or she had an eating disorder. Cassie opted for the former as she glided closer, deciding that her striking face, all high cheekbones, almond eyes and collagen-stung lips, could easily have graced the cover of a fashion magazine.

Dropping Cassie’s hand, Jace placed his palm on her hip to anchor her to his side. And she heard him swear under his breath.

‘Hello, lover boy,’ the woman said breathlessly as she drew level, her six-inch heels bringing her almost eye-level with Jace, and making Cassie feel like a midget. ‘Long time, no see.’ A cloud of expensive perfume engulfed Cassie as the woman leaned into him and pressed postbox-red lips to his. Her mouth lingered on his a moment too long for the kiss to be mistaken for platonic. Cassie wondered if she’d just become invisible.

Jace grasped the women’s waist, deliberately setting her away from him. ‘Where the hell is Bryan?’ he asked, his tone frigid.

‘That’s for me to know and for you to find out,’ she said, batting her eyelids as spots of colour appeared on her angular cheekbones.

‘I didn’t come all this way to play games, Helen,’ he replied, his voice low with annoyance.

So this was Helen.

The woman’s long eyelashes dipped in a bashful gesture that seemed out of keeping with the bold flirtation of a moment before and she gave a breathless little laugh. ‘Don’t be such a spoilsport.’ She touched a perfectly manicured nail to Jace’s chest. ‘I have good news. I have some friends here tonight you must meet. I’ve whetted their appetite already and they’re gagging to hear more about Artisan so they can invest.’

Catching her finger, Jace lowered it. ‘You of all people know I’m not looking for new investment.’

She flicked her fingers in a dismissive gesture. ‘Stop being difficult—you’re not going to sell Artisan. I know how much the company means to you. I’m the one who watched you sweat blood over it.’

‘It served its purpose,’ he replied flatly. ‘I don’t get sentimental about business, any more than I get sentimental about the past.’

The chill in his voice sent a shiver of alarm up Cassie’s spine. Who was this woman? And why did the familiarity between them remind her unpleasantly of the time when Lance had laughingly introduced her to his ‘work colleague’ Tracy at their New Year’s Eve party last year?

She knew she didn’t have any claim on Jace, this was just a casual date with the promise of wild sex for dessert, but that didn’t make the uncomfortable feeling go away. She cleared her throat, loudly, and Helen’s head whipped round.

The woman stared blankly at her as if she were noticing her for the first time, but made no move to introduce herself. Hostility rolled off her in waves, but there was something else there, a flicker of sadness and distress, that made Cassie wish she could disappear for real.

‘Why don’t I go get us a drink?’ Cassie directed the question at Jace. Whatever was between these two, she was pretty sure she’d be better off not knowing what it was.

‘We’ll get one together,’ he replied. ‘I’ll catch you later, Helen.’

But as he took Cassie’s hand and went to sidestep their host she simply stepped the same way, blocking his path. ‘What’s the matter, Jace?’ she said, her raised voice turning several heads by the bar. ‘Does it make you uncomfortable introducing your little tart to your wife?’

He swore viciously as shock and disbelief made blood pound in Cassie’s ears.

His wife?

Seeing the other guests staring at her, Cassie felt the blood pump into her cheeks. Jace said something, his voice low with temper, but she couldn’t make out the words, the buzzing in her ears deafening her. Pulling her hand out of his, she rushed out of the bar and didn’t look back.

She covered her mouth with her hand as reaction set in.

Oh, God, she was going to throw up.

So much for her fabulous adventure, she thought as she stabbed the lift button with frantic fingers. She should have seen it coming. Cassie Fitzgerald decided to have a wild fling and she ended up flinging herself straight into the arms of a married man. It would be ironic, if the guilt and embarrassment and the stupid sense of betrayal tumbling about in the pit of her stomach weren’t making her gag.

‘Hold up, Cassie.’ A large hand wrapped around her forearm and whisked her round. ‘Where the hell are you going?’

‘Home.’

‘Helen’s not my wife,’ he countered. ‘We’ve been divorced for over five years now and separated a great deal longer. And up until about ten seconds ago I thought she’d be here with her new fiancé, so I didn’t anticipate having to deal with this rubbish.’

The dispassionate explanation went some way to dispelling the nausea, but did nothing for the heat burning in her cheeks. ‘Thanks for letting me know that,’ she said, using sarcasm to mask the stupid sting of tears. What on earth was she so upset about? His relationship with his ex-wife really had nothing to do with her. ‘It might have been nice if you’d told me a little sooner, though. Like when I asked about her in the car.’

‘I’m not interested in talking about her or our marriage,’ he said, as if withholding such a vital piece of information was perfectly reasonable.

‘I specifically asked you if you were involved with her. And you didn’t say a word.’

She stared at the lift display panel as if her life depended on it. She didn’t want to look at him. And where the heck was the lift? It needed to get here before she did something really idiotic like bursting into tears. For some reason her emotions had been too close to the surface all night. Ever since she’d leapt into his car like a crazy lady—and then come apart on his sofa.

‘Because there’s nothing to say,’ he huffed. ‘I was never involved with her. Not in any real sense. Our marriage lasted exactly six months and I’ve regretted it ever since. The fact that she’s delusional and insists on pretending there’s still something between us is not my problem.’ His thumb and forefinger gripped her chin and he directed her gaze back to his. ‘Do you think you could look at me while you’re having your snit?’

‘This is not a snit.’

To her astonishment his lip curved up at one corner. ‘It looks like one to me.’

‘Excuse me, but you weren’t the one who got called a little tart in front of three hundred people.’

The other corner curved up. ‘I’m sure it was only two hundred and fifty,’ he replied, his eyes now smiling too.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off.

‘Now, Cassie,’ he said, amusement lightening his voice as he threaded his fingers into the fine hair at her nape. ‘You’re not looking on the bright side here.’

‘What bright side?’ she snapped, trying very hard not to be charmed by that sensual smile and the caressing touch. It wasn’t fair. She’d been humiliated. Branded a tart by a woman she didn’t even know. And he seemed to think it was a joke. She wasn’t about to humour him.

Following her into the lift, he pressed the ground-floor button then placed his hands on either side of her head, caging her against the wall. ‘The bright side is, we get to leave straight away. A whole hour earlier than planned.’

She braced her palms against his chest, but her arms felt heavy, sluggish, the coil of desire unravelling at an alarming speed and sapping her ability to push him away.

‘You don’t seriously think it’s still game on for tonight, do you?’ she said, trying for indignant but getting breathless instead.

He leaned down to suckle the pulse point in her neck. ‘Uh-huh.’

‘Well, you’re wrong,’ she sputtered, but her head dropped back, instinctively giving him better access.

His gaze, dark and intent, fixed on hers as he let one hand drop to snake under her coat and grip her waist. ‘You’re a terrible liar, you know.’ He pulled her flush against him, all trace of amusement gone. ‘Now tell me again you don’t want me and I’ll take you home.’

The gruff invitation and the feel of his rigid arousal pressing into her stomach made the words catch in her throat. She couldn’t say it, because she did want him. And he was right, she’d never been a good liar.

She wanted him more than anything she’d ever wanted. Like a child in a sweet shop, offered the chance to grab as many delights as she could handle.

‘It’s not good to have everything you want,’ she mumbled, mesmerised by the golden flecks that gilded the vivid green of his irises.

His thumb brushed across her nipple and she groaned, the aching tension that shot straight to her sex making resistance futile. ‘It will be tonight,’ he said.

The lift doors opened onto the ground-floor lobby and he eased back. Stepping out, he drew her with him, then dug into the back pocket of his jeans.

He flipped his phone open and dialled without taking his eyes off her. ‘We’re ready now, Dave. How soon can you get here?’

His lips tipped up as he listened to the reply. ‘We’ll be waiting.’

‘How long is it going to take him?’ she asked, her teeth tugging on her lip. She might as well stop pretending that she wasn’t going to jump him as soon as they got back to his suite. Because she wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all herself.

It didn’t matter that he hadn’t told her about his ex-wife. It didn’t even matter that the woman had called her a tart. All that mattered now was that the chemistry was hotter than molten lava—and she couldn’t wait any longer to feel it erupt.

‘Too damn long,’ he said as the chauffeur-driven car squealed to a halt at the kerb.