Читать книгу Love Islands…The Collection - Ким Лоренс, Jane Porter - Страница 28

THERE WAS A LONG, pulsing silence. Across the table, Addie stared at him in mute disbelief, unable to believe what she had just heard. Slowly she picked over his words inside her head, turning and twisting them like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle, trying to make a different meaning. But each time the picture was the same.

His mistress!

The word sounded even harsher inside her head than when he’d spoken it out loud and her breath snarled in her throat. Maybe she had misunderstood him. Or maybe he was joking. But as she stole a glance at his cool, implacable face she realised with a jolt of fear that he was making a serious suggestion.

‘Are you out of your mind?’ she said shakily.

She stared down at the slip of paper, still lying on the table between them, clenching and unclenching her hands in her lap.

He shrugged, his cool gaze boring into her. ‘Everything in life has a price, sweetheart.’

‘A price! What are you talking about, Malachi? You just offered me money for sex!’

His gaze drifted lazily over her pale, stunned face. ‘How very unromantic of you. I thought I was offering you the honeymoon we never had.’

She was suddenly hot with rage. ‘Oh, please! You know exactly what you just said and it had nothing whatsoever to do with romance!’

Her words were tumbling from her lips so fast that she choked. As he gently pushed her glass of water towards her, she shoved his hand angrily away.

‘I don’t want any. I don’t want anything from you.’

Stretching one muscular arm along the back of the banquette, he shook his head slowly. ‘Now, we both know that’s not true. Or are you saying that you want me to cancel that transfer into your account?’

Addie hesitated. She badly wanted to throw the money back in his face, but how could she? Without it the charity would struggle to pay the rent, let alone support the children. And she would lose a part of herself—the part she was most afraid to lose because it absorbed so much of the energy and emotion she had once given to performing. Once given to Malachi. Only she wasn’t about to share that fact with him now.

Gritting her teeth, she lifted her eyes to his and he smiled slowly.

‘See? Everything does have a price, sweetheart.’

He paused. His grey eyes watched her face with a satisfaction that made her want to scream.

‘Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t done before.’ His mouth curved, his grey eyes glittering provocatively.

She glared at him, her own blue eyes snapping fire. ‘What? Sleep with a man for money?’

A muscle flickered in his cheek. ‘I’m simply asking you to resume our relationship.’

‘You are not! You’re taking advantage of me.’

‘No, I’m trying to negotiate a deal with you.’

‘A deal? This isn’t a deal. It’s blackmail. And it’s insulting—’ Shaking her head, she pushed the slip of paper jerkily across the table towards him. ‘I’m not some escort you pay by the day, Malachi! I’m your wife!’

‘So now you want to talk about our marriage?’

His eyes held hers, so dark and dispassionate that suddenly she was frantic to leave. His crude proposal was bad enough. But she couldn’t bear the thought of the two of them turning everything they’d once shared into something so twisted and ugly.

‘No, I don’t,’ she said flatly. ‘I don’t want to talk to you about anything. In fact I’ve got a new deal for you. How about you keep your money? And I’ll keep my pride.’ Rising to her feet, she jerked her bag from the seat and glowered at him. ‘Enjoy your honeymoon.’

‘Addie—’

He was on his feet, reaching out for her. But, slipping away from his outstretched arm, she ran lightly across the restaurant and past the bodyguards. Yanking open the door, she stepped out into the street, her brain registering the black overcast sky just as a strong flurry of wind slammed against her.

Gasping, she tugged her thin jacket more tightly around her body and began to hurry down the rapidly emptying road. Her stormy encounter with Malachi had completely distracted her from the tempest raging outside, but now she realised that, like their relationship, the weather seemed to have taken a turn for the worse. Much worse!

She would have to get a cab, she thought despairingly as she glanced up at the swirling dark clouds. If she waited for a bus she’d be soaked.

Holding out her hand, she began to walk as quickly as her heels would allow, glancing back over her shoulder with increasing urgency until finally, hearing a car slow behind her, she turned with relief.

Only it wasn’t a taxi. Her feet seemed to falter beneath her as a sleek black limousine complete with uniformed chauffeur drew up alongside her.

Her heart lurched and she took a hurried step backwards as one of the bodyguards from the restaurant leaped out from the passenger side. For a moment she thought he might grab her, but instead, turning swiftly, he opened the rear door and she felt her bones turn to ice as Malachi stepped out onto the pavement.

Turning cold blue eyes on him, she breathed out sharply as another gust of wind slapped into her. ‘Shouldn’t you be packing?’ she snapped.

‘Addie, please. Do you really want to be doing this now? Here?’ He flinched as a gust of wind sent a newspaper flapping past his head. ‘It’s been downgraded, but this is still a big storm. We need to get out of it.’

‘I know that. That’s why I’m getting a cab. And there is no “we”.’

She glanced away down the deserted street.

‘There are no cabs.’ Malachi stepped in front of her, his narrowed eyes at odds with the reasonable note in his voice. ‘And it’s getting pretty bad out here.’

As if to attest to the truth of his words, the first fat drops of water hit her face just as he reached out and touched her hand lightly.

‘Let me give you a lift home, okay?’

Despite the chill of the rain, she felt heat explode inside her. The noise of the wind felt suddenly muffled, drowned out by the heavy thud of her heartbeat. But jerking her hand away, she gripped her jacket more tightly. It would have to be a Category 5 hurricane before she’d even consider getting into that car with him.

‘I thought I made myself clear back at the restaurant.’ She was having to shout now, against the buffeting breeze. ‘I don’t need anything from you, Malachi. So if you don’t mind—’

‘But I do. What if something happens to you? Imagine how that would look—’

Addie stared at him in disbelief, trying to banish the sharp stab of pain as his words dug into her brain. ‘So this isn’t about me and my safety. It’s about you and your stupid image?’

For a moment she wanted to hurt him as he had hurt her. Was still hurting her. She clutched her bag against her chest, holding it in front of her like a shield as his eyes locked on to hers.

‘I am worried about your safety.’

‘So am I,’ she snapped. ‘Which is why I’m not getting in that car with you.’

All at once she was conscious of the calm surrounding him—as though his broad body was somehow absorbing the turbulence of the wind.

‘Your choice, sweetheart. The back seat.’ He smiled. ‘Or the boot.’

Her hand tightened on the fabric of her jacket. ‘Really! The boot? First you try and blackmail me—now you want to kidnap me!’

She watched the muscles in his arms swell against his beautifully tailored suit and instantly regretted her words. Knowing Malachi, he would have absolutely no qualms about tossing her into the boot of his car and, glancing down the street one last time, she made up her mind.

‘Fine,’ she said, through gritted teeth. ‘You can give me a lift.’

His eyes glittered with what looked to her horribly like triumph and, willing herself to hold her temper in check, she edged past him. ‘But just so you know—this doesn’t change anything.’

Fuming, she slid along the leather as far as possible until she was pressed against the frame of the door. Already she was regretting her acquiescence, for despite the warmth and sanctuary of the car her nerves were singing, her body painfully alert at the realisation that she was about to be alone and up close with Malachi. It was asking for trouble.

But it was also too late to change her mind.

As he got in beside her she breathed out slowly, her eyes narrowing as he calmly gave her address to the chauffeur.

‘Are you shivering or quivering?’

His voice broke into her thoughts and, turning, she scowled at him.

‘Why do you care?’

‘I was going to offer you my jacket.’

Her heart seemed to dissolve in her chest and a shivering heat crawled over her skin. ‘Well, I’m not cold,’ she said shortly. ‘So you don’t need to worry.’

‘In that case you must be quivering.’ He smiled. ‘Dare I hope that it has anything to do with me?’

She knew he was teasing her but that didn’t stop the sense of nervous unease she felt at his words. The sense that, despite her efforts to be poised and in control, she was making it transparently clear that her body still responded to him as it had always done.

Ignoring the burning in her cheeks, she lifted her chin. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Malachi, but it’s been a long time since I was susceptible to your charms,’ she said bitingly.

He tilted his head, his eyes skimming over her skin, sending ripples of heat in overlapping circles so that she was suddenly struggling to swallow.

‘It’s okay to admit it, sweetheart,’ he said softly. ‘I know you want me as desperately as I want you.’

Shoulders stiffening, she glared at him. Had he already forgotten his despicable and offensive proposal that she be his mistress? Probably. But knowing Malachi, he thought it was a perfectly reasonable suggestion. She knew from painful personal experience that he was happy to exploit everything and everyone—even...especially...his own wife—for his own ends. Five years ago he’d used her image. Now he wanted to use her body.

The thought made her skin smart as though he’d slapped her.

‘Don’t flatter yourself. Right now I’m just desperate to get out of this car and away from you.’

Tipping his head back, Malachi laughed.

‘Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re stuck with me.’

‘Only for as long as it takes your driver to get me home,’ she snapped.

There was a short, pulsing silence, and through the rawness of her nerves she felt a drop of quicksilver shoot up her spine as he stared at her assessingly.

‘We’ll see.’

Her body was suddenly stiff and hollow and she felt a crack of fear open inside her.

‘No, we will not! This is a one-off, Malachi.’

He shrugged, the muscles in his shoulders shifting against the fabric of his jacket.

‘I see it more as a starting point.’

She shook her head slowly, her stomach lurching.

‘For what? You paying me for sex.’ Anger was flaring inside her once more.

‘I just thought we could talk.’

‘Look, Malachi, just because I accepted a lift from you, it doesn’t mean I want to talk to you.’ Fury rose up inside her. He was so insensitive. ‘Why would I? After what you said in the restaurant?’ She shook her head, the memory of his words making her hands ball in her lap. ‘You insulted me!’

He stared at her in silence. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, asking her to be his mistress. Watching her walk towards him, the sight of her gorgeous body pressing against his eyeballs like a hot knife against butter, he’d made up his mind: he had to have her.

From nowhere, the idea had popped into his head, fully formed. But even now he wasn’t completely sure why he’d actually gone ahead and suggested it to her.

Shifting in his seat, he gritted his teeth. Of course lust had obviously played a part. But there was more to his decision than just simple biology. When Addie had pitched into his life five years ago he’d seen her as an opportunity, a chance to have what he’d previously discounted as untenable, impossible. Before meeting her he’d never even wanted a wife—only she had been like an itch that wouldn’t stop.

And then, realising how good she was for his image, it had been easy to persuade himself that she would make the perfect wife, her role in the local charity sector the yin to his yang as a ruthless, self-serving entrepreneur. Crucially, their partnership would help ensure a more positive reception for his new casino in downtown Miami.

His face stilled. But in the space of six months she’d turned his life inside out: she’d taken his heart and his name and discarded both. Worse, his failed marriage had unleashed a sense of disquiet and doubt that he’d never quite managed to shift, and her defection had left him smarting.

Now seeing her again, his body was aching with feverish sexual frustration. Persuading her to be his mistress had felt like the perfect solution, for it would solve his hunger and erase the feeling of powerlessness that was the legacy of their doomed relationship.

His mouth twisted. It was a feeling he loathed more than any other. A grim, painful reminder of a childhood dominated by the dark chaos of his parents’ lives. Addie had seemed like the perfect riposte to their world. Bright, smart, independent—and sexy, of course. Only despite that he’d given her his name, and access to a world of wealth and power, she’d turned out to be just as needy as his parents, only instead of disorder, she brought doubts and accusations.

Remembering how it had felt when she’d left him—the shock, the humiliation—his mouth tightened. It was a bitter reminder of what happened when he let lust not logic make his decisions. But it wasn’t too late; he could still walk away. Only walking away would feel like cashing in his chips. His eyes narrowed. Besides, her impassioned refusal had simply sharpened his determination to change her mind.

Only it wasn’t going quite as smoothly as he would like...

He breathed out slowly. ‘I want you, Addie, and I’m willing to pay to have you.’

Their eyes met and heat crawled over the skin at the back of her neck. She should have been outraged, and part of her was, for his statement was shocking in its almost carnal brutality. Only she couldn’t deny that another, greater part was trembling with raw, feverish longing.

It didn’t seem to matter that she was no longer in love with him. He could still make her hands shake and her head spin.

She lifted her chin. So could a waltzer at a funfair! The difference was that when the ride ended, her heart and her pride would still be intact.

Gritting her teeth, she conjured up a memory of herself, face puffy with crying, slumped on her sofa beneath a duvet. Remember that, she told herself sternly. No amount of money or sexual gratification was worth those consequences.

Digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands, she raised her chin. ‘But you can’t have me, Malachi!’

She turned and glanced out of the window.

‘This probably wasn’t the best idea, so thank you for the lift but perhaps it might be better if you dropped me off here,’ she said stiffly. ‘I can look after myself.’

Malachi met her gaze. ‘Is that why you’re sitting all that way over there on your own?’

Watching her bite into her soft lower lip, he felt his groin harden. He could see the conflict in her eyes, could almost feel the nervous jolt of her pulse. She wanted what he wanted, but she couldn’t admit it to herself—let alone him. Maybe it was time to switch tactics.

He let the silence between them lengthen again and then, shifting round, the better to watch her reaction, he said softly, ‘So, are you demonstrating your independence? Or am I making you nervous?’

He had chosen his words intentionally, guessing that she would find it impossible not to rise to the implication that somehow he had got under her skin. His assumption was quickly and gratifyingly confirmed as she turned and glared at him, her narrowed gaze two slits of hostile blue.

‘Nervous! Why would I be nervous?’

He shrugged, watching the slow rise of colour in her cheeks and the darkening of her eyes.

‘Being here with me...’ he murmured. ‘Alone... There was a time when we couldn’t keep our hands off of one another—’

He could hear her breathing, short and sharp and shallow, and felt a shivering rush of triumph dart over his skin. She was more than nervous. She was aroused.

‘That was a long time ago,’ she said stiffly. ‘A lot’s changed.’

‘And a lot hasn’t...’ He paused, feeling his body respond to the provocation in her eyes and the pulse jerking erratically at the base of her throat. ‘Like this...’ And, reaching out, he stretched his arm along the back of the seat and lightly touched her hair. ‘This hasn’t changed one bit. It’s still just as wild and beautiful.’ Pulling loose a gleaming curl, he wound the hair round his finger.

Heart pounding, Addie shook his hand off. ‘Actually, I’ve been thinking about going blonde. And short. Really short.’

With considerable difficulty, she tore her eyes away from his dark, shimmering gaze. Did he seriously think that one touch was all it would take? That just stroking her hair would be enough for her to melt into his arms and forget all about his appalling attempt to blackmail her? She caught her breath. Probably. He was so used to women throwing themselves at him. And, judging by the way her whole body was vibrating like a tuning fork, it appeared that she agreed with him. Or at least her stupid, treacherous body did.

‘I could walk from here,’ she said quickly, glancing out of the window at the rain-spattered pavement. ‘It doesn’t look that bad any more.’

She turned to face him and instantly wished she hadn’t. Lounging negligently, his grey gaze seemed to hold her captive, so that even if she’d wanted to yank open the door and run as fast as possible from the dangerous, swirling undercurrents in the car, she would not have been able to do so.

‘What?’ she said hoarsely. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Why do you think?’ Slowly, with almost cat-like laziness, he leaned forward and picked up her hand, playing gently with her fingers.

She opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t know or care, but somehow the words stayed stubbornly in her throat. Her mouth was dry and she could feel her pulse hammering in her wrists so hard that her hands seemed like living creatures. Drawing back, she pressed her spine into the upholstery of the seat.

‘It doesn’t matter what I think. None of this is real.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s like you said. It’s just us being alone together again.’

He was holding her softly, but his voice was softer still. ‘Maybe. Only you seem pretty damn real to me—and so does how I’m feeling right now.’

Her blood felt as though it were thinning, growing lighter. If only she could fly, she thought desperately, fly far away. But neither fight nor flight was possible. Even thinking appeared to be a struggle.

Threads of heat were trickling slowly over her skin like warm syrup off a spoon and she stared at him helplessly, hypnotised by the languorous glow of his gaze. She wanted to lie back and close her eyes and breathe in his warm, masculine scent and believe what he was saying was true. How could it not be? When he said it in that voice...

For a moment she lingered over his words, repeating them inside her head: How I’m feeling right now...

And slowly she pulled her fingers away from his. It sounded true because it was true. Probably Malachi did feel like that ‘right now’. But it would pass. No matter how beautiful and enticing it sounded, it was as transient as a winter sunset.

She shrank back inside her skin. ‘But that doesn’t make it right,’ she said quietly.

She felt his gaze, fierce and fixed, on the side of her face.

‘It makes it better than right. It makes it perfect. This time, this way, it’ll be good between us. There’s no expectation. No promises or pressure.’

He made it sound so simple, so perfect. She could feel herself wavering.

Beside her, he inched closer, and looking up into the focus of his eyes, she saw a heat and intensity that seemed to melt her breath. She felt a rush of panic for those eyes told her what she already knew: that he still owned her sexually and now he was claiming her back.

‘Stop it!’ She lifted her hand and held it up. ‘Stop saying these things. And don’t come any nearer. I don’t want you to.’

‘Only because you don’t trust yourself.’

Holding up his hand, he pressed his palm against hers, and the longing inside her seemed to split her apart.

‘Why are you fighting this? You want me as much as I want you, Addie. Tell me you don’t. Tell me I’m wrong.’ In the depths of his eyes something flickered like the flare of a match—a small, bright flame of desire.

She knew she should speak, deny his claim. But she couldn’t find her voice—and even if she could have done she wouldn’t have been able to string her words together in any sensible order.

Heat was spilling over her skin like milk boiling over in a pan. And suddenly she wanted it to overwhelm her. To stop fighting and sink beneath the liquid warmth. His fingers were wrapping around hers, tugging her inexorably towards him, and she knew that they were going to kiss and she was glad...because sometimes kisses were less complicated than words.

Reaching up, she pressed her fingers against his lips, shivering as she saw his gaze darken with hunger. For a moment their eyes locked, and then she slid her hand up and over his jaw and into his dark silky hair, pulling his mouth feverishly onto hers.

At the touch of his lips she felt an ache—blissful, voluptuous—spreading out low from her pelvis, and then her hands splayed apart, her head spinning dizzily as he deepened the kiss.

Moaning, she arched her body towards him, her breath stuttering in her throat, a fissure opening up inside her as his tongue slid between her parted lips and his hands curved around her waist and thigh, pressing, probing.

‘Addie...’

She heard him murmur her name, felt his hand slide inexorably up over the soft skin of her thigh and then higher, beneath the hem of her dress to the pulse beating insistently between her legs.

Her skin felt hot and tight; inside she could feel herself melting. Gasping, she leaned against the hard muscles of his chest, the hot, salt scent of him coiling round her skin so that she was shaking with longing, her whole body clamouring for more. Shuddering, she pulled at his shirt, tugging at it where it was caught beneath his waistband, lost in the quickening of her breath and the lambent heat pooling low in her pelvis.

He groaned softly. ‘Stop, sweetheart...’

And then he said it more loudly, dragging his mouth from hers, lifting his hands away, and she stared up at him dazedly even as her disorientated brain began to absorb the full facts of the situation.

Her eyes opened and, face flaming, she stared in horror at her reflection in the window. How could she have let that happen? Was she out of her mind?

But blaming her mind for what had just happened was about as senseless as blaming the moon for turning the tide. However, any debate on the whys and wherefores of blame was going to have to wait.

Taking a quick breath, she looked up at him reluctantly. ‘That shouldn’t have happened,’ she said slowly.

Leaning back against the seat, he watched her smooth down the hem of dress. ‘And yet it did.’

Her cheeks grew hotter. ‘It was a mistake.’

‘And we learn from our mistakes?’ he said idly, reaching out to take her hand.

‘I have,’ she retorted. ‘I’ve learned that I shouldn’t accept lifts from strangers.’

She tried to twist her hand away from his but he tightened his grip, pulling her towards him so that her body was pressed against his.

‘But I’m not a stranger. I’m your husband.’

And, lowering his head, he kissed her again. She felt the same pull as before, the same ache, only stronger, more fervent, and she moaned softly.

‘Come away with me, Addie.’ His eyes were dark and fierce and compelling. ‘There’s things we need to talk about alone. Just the two of us. Please—say yes.’

She pressed her hand against her swimming head, staring at him helplessly, hazy with wanting him, with needing him, and then finally she nodded, for the sexual attraction between them was irrefutable, so why keep trying to suppress it?

‘Say it!’ His hands captured her face. ‘I want to hear you say it.’

She hesitated. If she half closed her eyes and her mind to the tiny, nagging voices in her head, she could almost absolve herself from any responsibility for her actions.

Her breath tangled in her throat. But if she spoke, if she went into this now, agreed to this deal, then she would do so knowing that Malachi didn’t love her.

She shifted in her seat. Maybe it would be easier that way. There would be no more broken hearts and shattered dreams. In fact dreams would come true for the children who learned to trust and hope and believe again through music. The charity she had founded, which had brought passion and pride back to her life, would grow and prosper. And maybe she needed to own this decision unlike last time when she’d been dazzled and docile and always one step behind.

Determinedly, she lifted her chin. ‘Yes. I’ll come away with you.’ Her employee Carmen was always begging her to take a break. She would be happy to cover for her.

She felt the car slow as he kissed her again, his hands stroking her hair. Then, breaking the kiss, he looked down at her, his face catching the light so that her breath caught in her throat at the absurdity of his perfect cheekbones.

‘It’s not too late to change your mind.’ Despite the teasing smile, his eyes were serious.

Her heart gave a lurch and she almost laughed out loud. Of course it was too late. It had been too late ever since that letter had turned up in her in tray.

Shaking her head, she lifted her chin. ‘No. You’re right—we do need to talk. Besides, I could do with a holiday.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘You might need another one after we get back. This one could be quite...strenuous.’

Before she could reply he leaned forward and tapped on the window. And she felt the car stop.

Stepping onto the pavement, Addie looked up at the sky. The rain had stopped and a small, pale sun was edging out from behind the clouds.

She turned to face him, feeling suddenly awkward. ‘So what happens now?’

Reaching out, he pulled her against him, sliding his arms around her waist, and the touch of his strong hands made her heart slam against her ribs.

‘You go inside and pack,’ he said mockingly. ‘We leave on Monday.’

‘Monday!’ She stared at him in shock, her ears buzzing.

He nodded. ‘My driver will pick you up at nine. Try not to keep him waiting too long.’

Addie was starting to feel somewhat overwhelmed, both by the speed of these arrangements and this unsettling reminder of Malachi’s wealth.

But, determined not to show her discomfort or lack of sophistication, she merely nodded. ‘Leave for where? New York? France? The moon?’

Even to her own ears her voice sounded high and petulant, and she blushed as he laughed softly.

‘The Caribbean. I own an island there—off Antigua.’ Glancing at her astonished expression, he grinned.

‘Y-you own an island?’ She had given up trying to play it cool. ‘What kind of island?’

‘The usual kind.’ He gave her a slow, teasing smile. ‘White sand. Palm trees. Paradise on earth.’

Her head was spinning; questions were flying in every direction. But he was already back in the car.

‘Wait!’ Stepping forward, she hammered on the window, her breath churning in her throat as it slid down.

He leaned forward, a teasing smile on his handsome face. ‘What’s the matter? Are you missing me already?’

She frowned. Away from his touch, with the cooling breeze on her skin, her head was clearing. ‘I need to know what to pack.’

He laughed, his eyes gleaming. ‘It’s a honeymoon, sweetheart. You don’t need to pack anything at all!’