Читать книгу Hotbed of Scandal: Mistress: At What Price? / Red Wine and Her Sexy Ex / Bedded by Blackmail - Kate Hardy, Anne Oliver - Страница 9

DANE found coffee, a plunger and mugs, switched on the kettle and studied the business pages while he waited for Mariel to take a shower. He could hear the water running and schooled himself not to think about all that gorgeous flesh and warm soapy water.

Safer, much safer, to think about making that date he’d promised the robust blonde surfer chick he’d met in the bar last week. The fact that he’d had no intention of following up was irrelevant.

He looked up when Mariel appeared, and his gaze drifted over her of its own accord. She wore a navy mini sundress with a bright floral pattern and a white lace trim. It hugged that sensational figure and left miles of bare leg. Heaven help him.

‘That feels much better,’ she said, taking a seat opposite, her enticing still-damp fragrance wafting across the table.

He didn’t agree. Ignoring his body’s wayward but inevitable response, he poured them both a coffee, then, remembering, he withdrew a small plastic self-sealing bag from his pocket. ‘I was cleaning out my car the other day and found Phoebe’s diamond earring.’

‘She lost her earring? In your car?’

He noticed Mariel’s complexion fade, her green eyes taking on the hue of winter’s frost-covered paddocks. Interesting.

‘A couple of weeks ago, yes.’

She stared at him. ‘You and Phoebe…?’

‘Me and four women, actually. Drunk as skunks, talking dirty to me and giggling themselves silly.’

‘Yeah, right.’ She picked up her mug, but there was a smidgeon of uncertainty beneath the scorn.

‘Ever tried to ferry a gaggle of women home from a hen night?’

‘Hen night?’

‘Amy’s do. Drunk on Mai Tais, Screaming Orgasms and a male stripper. Well-endowed, too…Their words, not mine. The bride-to-be appointed me chauffeur for the evening.’

Mariel’s expression didn’t alter, but he saw something flicker in her eyes. She reached for a croissant, broke it open. ‘I bet that put a dent in your social calendar.’

‘Not at all.’ He took a croissant himself. ‘I’d do it for you if you asked.’

‘Strip and ply me with Screaming Orgasms? No thanks.’ She raised her mug, took a gulp, then set it down with a chink. Her crisp retort made him smile on the inside. But only for a pulse-beat, because the image she conjured with her sharp retort hit him right between the thighs.

He lifted his mug to his suddenly parched throat and took a long, slow swallow. ‘I meant chauffeur duty. You don’t have a car yet, do you?’

‘Actually, I do. A pretty yellow hatchback. I’m picking it up today.’

He watched her eat in silence a moment, considering his words before speaking again, but he had to know for sure. ‘What’s the deal with your business partner?’ He rolled his mug between his fingers. ‘He isn’t only your business partner, is he?’

‘No. He—’ She shook her head, pressed her lips together as if she was afraid of saying too much. ‘And the word’s was. He’s history. Leave it at that.’

She drank her coffee greedily, then finished off her croissant in three quick, careless bites. ‘It’s handy you’re here; you can put those chauffeuring skills to work and drive me to the car dealer. If you’re not busy with any other…ah…commitments, that is.’ Without looking at him she rose, carried the dishes to the sink.

‘Clear schedule today.’ And wasn’t that handy? ‘When do you want to leave?’

She rinsed the dishes, put them away. ‘I’ll be ready in a few moments.’

‘That’s what they all say.’

While he waited he finished off the business section of his newspaper. Twenty minutes later he folded it and wandered over to the window. What had happened between Mariel and her lover? He told himself it was none of his business. He was still pondering when he heard her footsteps cross the tiles.

She’d accessorised the sundress with hot-pink sandals and matching beads.

She looked fresh. Fun. Gorgeous.

His fists tightened in the pockets of his shorts. Once he’d have told her, but now, with this current friction like a live wire between them, it was probably wiser to keep the verbal admiration to a minimum lest it be misinterpreted.

She stared at him a moment, a small frown marring her forehead, as if disappointed to find him lacking in the compliments he’d have once voiced without thought.

Then she spotted his car keys on the kitchen table. Their eyes met and duelled in the familiar battle he’d all but forgotten. ‘Uh-uh, I’m driving.’ She got to them first, swept them up with a laugh and jingled them above her head. ‘Your Porsche. All the way to town.’

‘You think so?’ He was behind her in a second, fingers tangling with hers, wrestling for possession.

Mariel’s laugh snagged in her chest as his familiar deep voice vibrated against her ear and between her shoulderblades. The smell of healthy male sweat and Dane’s own brand of scent seemed to wrap around her. She leaned back…or did he shuffle forward?…and his body bumped against hers and her grip on the keys faltered.

All movement ceased. Even her heart seemed to stop for one long breathless moment. His T-shirt shifted lightly against her bare back so that she was oh-so-aware of the hard abdominal ridges beneath. Over the whisper of the air-conditioning she heard the grandfather clock ticking in the hall. Felt Dane’s hand locked over hers. The rough edge of a fingernail. His breath on her hair. The power he could wield over her, both body and mind…If she let him…

She hesitated a beat too long. She sucked in a breath, but it whooshed out again as he spun her round. She glimpsed the molten steel in his gaze before his lips clashed with hers. Hard, impatient. If she’d been able, she’d have used her hands to push him away but they were trapped between them. His heart pounded heavily against one palm; his car keys dug into her chest in the other.

She had no time to think as sensations battered at her. The heat of his hands on her bare back, her breasts flattened against his rock-solid chest, the sound of her pulse thundering in her ears.

As if he commanded it, her lips opened beneath his, softening and allowing his tongue entry, duelling with hers in an erotic battle of wills. His taste swirled through her mouth, the after-taste of coffee, and something darker, richer, smoother.

There was nothing gentle about it; this assault on the senses was nothing like last night’s getting-reacquainted-and-see-how-we-like-it kiss.

It thrilled her. It terrified her. It gave her the strength she needed to push him away for the second time in as many days. She glared up at him, at the sharp angles of his face, harsh with a desire that had nothing to do with tenderness. Colour slashed his cheeks, his lips. She sucked in air, found it rich with his scent.

His eyes…she couldn’t read them behind the storm she saw there. ‘Who do you think you are, manhandling me that way?’ she demanded, and was appalled at the breathy, needy sound of her voice.

‘You’re over him or you wouldn’t have let me kiss you. Not last night. Not now. And definitely not like that.’

Like he really meant it.

Rather than tingly, her lips felt swollen and numb. She ran an experimental finger over them to check that they were still there. He’d told her last night that he’d enjoyed it, and that she had, too.

‘Why did you come back, Mariel?’

‘I told you, I—’

‘Aside from catching up with family.’

She forced herself to take a slow, steadying breath. To take a mental step away from what had just happened here and focus on Dane’s much more important question. ‘I want to create my own fashion label, set up my own boutique.’

‘You could have done that overseas.’ His voice lost some of its hard edge. ‘Or didn’t you think Paris was big enough for the two of you?’

Because her legs barely supported her, she sank onto the nearest chair. ‘It wasn’t that.’ She stared at her hands in her lap. He had to ask, didn’t he? Better to get it over with.

He took a chair, turned it around and sat astride it, leaning his forearms on the back. ‘Tell me.’

‘Luc’s a fashion photographer; smooth and sophisticated, and he swept an innocent girl like me away.’

At the low, throaty sound she looked up to see Dane’s jaw knotted. He nodded brusquely. ‘Go on.’

‘He liked my designs, but he liked my face better so I modelled for him. We went into business together. The money rolled in, we got involved, I moved into his apartment. It never occurred to me not to trust him. But it turns out Luc’s a drug dealer and he was having a fling on the side. I was just a useful addition to his cashflow. He was arrested on Christmas Day. I was taken in for questioning, too, and fingerprinted before being released.’

‘The bastard.’

‘Yes.’ Remembered humiliation washed through her. ‘My family knows nothing of this, and I want to keep it that way.’

‘You have my word on that.’

The reassuring touch of his hand on hers threatened to open the floodgate on unshed tears. And unwanted desire. She tugged her hand away, swiped at her eyes. ‘So…anyway, I want to set up business here, but finances are a little tight right now.’

His brow lifted. ‘I’d have thought you’d be laughing all the way to the…Don’t tell me…’

‘Yep. It’s gone.’ She rubbed at the tension in her neck. She felt like such a fool. ‘And I’m afraid now my name’s been in the press here—and linked with you—that they’ll dig up the dirt I left behind.’

‘Not if we give them something else to focus on and write about. Keep them interested in the here and now.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We give them the impression we’re a couple.’

‘Couple?’ she choked out.

‘With eyes only for each other.’

A strangled noise escaped her throat. As if. ‘There must be another way.’

‘If you can think of one I’d like to hear it.’

Thing was, she couldn’t—because her stunned mind was on overload, trying to process his outrageous idea. Still, maybe if they went on a few dates. Movies, theatre, a dinner or two…

‘I need a regular companion to take some of the heat off this Bachelor of the Year thing,’ he continued. ‘Someone to accompany me to functions. It’ll be good publicity for you, too, and if they do find anything about Paris my influence with the media here could come in handy. As for finance—I have an empty ground-floor room near my office that you can use rent-free to get your business started.’

She was still stuck on ‘regular’. ‘How regular are we talking?’

His eyes were like charcoal now, and intense. ‘You’ll move in with me—’

‘Whoa. Hold it. Move in with you?’

‘It’s safer that way.’

‘Safer for who?’ Her gaze narrowed. ‘And what’s your definition of safe?’

‘Your parents are away; you don’t want to be up in that big house all by yourself. No one has to know what goes on behind closed doors, Mariel.’

Not an answer. Not an answer at all. ‘So in the public’s eyes we’re a couple?’

‘Lovers,’ he corrected.

Heat spurted through her veins at the mental image. ‘So we’ve gone from companion and a couple of dates to lovers?’

His gaze remained steady on hers. ‘I won’t pretend not to want you in my bed, Mariel.’

‘What makes you think I’d want to be there?’ she shot back.

What made her think she could resist?

‘Vibes,’ he said. ‘Zings. Whatever you call them, they’ve been humming between us since last night. Can’t say I’m happy about it. It complicates things.’

‘For once we’re in total agreement.’

‘Problem is, we both want the same thing—but I’m the only one here willing to talk about it.’

Pressing her lips together to stop herself from giving in, she willed herself to look at him. Were his eyes a deeper colour?

‘Your eyes are answer enough.’ His gaze lowered to her breasts, which suddenly felt full and heavy. ‘Then there’s the way your body respon—’

‘All right, stop right there.’ She struggled to find air. Why was there no air in here? Damn him for making her feel vulnerable.

For making her feel more alive than she had in years.

His expression didn’t change, she noted with envy. How could he sit here so cool and casual and discuss the term ‘lovers’ and what amounted to a business arrangement in the same sentence?

She took another swift breath. It didn’t matter; let him think what he liked about sleeping arrangements. Getting her business up and running was the most important thing right now. Good publicity and a place to set up. Forget vibes. And zings.

And if that meant living in Dane’s house and masquerading as his lover…An affair. She swallowed…She’d bite the bullet and do it.

‘Okay. Two sophisticated people like us should be able to pull it off without too many dramas. But this is a business arrangement. I’ll pay you back once my business starts making money.’

She reminded herself he wasn’t the type of man she dated. She loved glitz and glamour, and sophisticated men with a sense of style, whereas Dane still obviously didn’t give a hang about appearances.

She needed to keep that in mind and put this unwanted, unhelpful attraction she had aside. For her career’s sake.

For her sanity’s sake.

As for Dane and his women…‘Though this is not in any sense a proper relationship, I do have a proviso.’ She wanted to jump up and pace, but made herself sit still, lean back and meet his eyes. ‘Men are very low on my priority list at the moment, so it won’t be a problem on my part, but I won’t tolerate any indiscretions from you while we’re…together.’

‘That goes without saying.’

‘No. It doesn’t. I won’t be made a fool of again.’

‘You’ve got it wrong, Mariel. The Frenchman was the fool.’ Dane rose, returned the chair to its proper place and, with a gesture obviously aimed at taking her mind off her troubles, jangled the keys in front of her face.

‘Oh…’ Somehow he’d managed to steal them away. How had she allowed that to happen?

He opened her hand, dropped them in her palm. ‘Let’s go look at your new business premises and pick up this car of yours.’

Moments later Mariel ran her fingers over the Porsche’s polished silver finish. ‘Nice.’

‘Nice? It’s a 911 Carrera. A very expensive piece of precision machinery.’

‘So am I, darling.’ His eyes met hers over the bonnet and she wished she could unsay the flirty words which once would have brought a laugh to his lips. This time his lips didn’t even begin to crack a smile.

She slid into the driver’s seat, adjusted the mirrors while Dane made himself comfortable beside her—if sitting ramrod-straight and listing her way like a sinking ship could be termed comfortable.

‘Relax, I’m not seventeen any more,’ she reassured him.

‘You’ve been driving in Europe for ten years. Don’t forget which side of the road you’re supposed to be on,’ he told her. ‘And remember, driving a car’s like making love. You handle her gently.’

‘Really?’ She caressed the steering wheel a moment, studying him closely until he turned a quiet shade of pink. ‘That’s where I disagree with you. I’d say it’s more about passion. Fast and furious.’ She flashed him a quick grin and pressed her foot hard on the accelerator.

‘What’s the dress code for tomorrow night’s do?’ she asked ten minutes later as they coasted down the freeway towards the haze-covered city. ‘Black tie? Formal?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll need to buy a dress.’

His head was tilted back on the headrest, and his sunglasses hid his eyes, but she felt his gaze on her. ‘Just keep in mind that I want to be able to slide my hands down your spine when we smooch on the dance floor.’

The way he said it—slow, sexy and appreciative—sent hot and cold shivers down her back. To make sure he didn’t get the wrong idea, she said, ‘To give everyone the impression we’re a couple, right?’

He didn’t answer.

She cleared her throat. ‘Any further requests? Colour?’

‘Surprise me. But make sure the zip glides easily. I wouldn’t want to snag the fabric.’

Her pulse did a fast blip.

‘When we get to town we’ll organise a credit card for you,’ he said. ‘I’m guessing you’ll want the whole deal: shoes, hair, etcetera. It’s an important occasion for me, so don’t skimp.’

‘I never do.’ Rather, she never had. ‘So what’s the evening about?’

‘It’s the year’s major fund-raiser for a charity I founded a few years ago called OzRemote. This dinner and ball raises funds to support kids in the Outback with no access to computers or modern technology.’

‘So you donate computers?’

‘It’s more involved than that. Money raised can pay experts in the field to visit remote stations, instal equipment and offer technological support. I’ve got a trip coming up soon which will take me as far as the northwest corner of the state.’

‘As I remember, Bachelor of the Year entrants have to raise a certain amount of money before they’re eligible for judging and the “fun” part with the babes.’

‘Correct.’ He named a figure that had her nodding with approval.

‘Impressive. I’ll be sure to choose something appropriate to the occasion.’

The office space Dane was offering her was small, but Mariel focused on the positives. She had an address for her business when she eventually opened. Somewhere to store stock, spread out her designs and create in the meantime. She could renovate the little space at the front, dress up the window to attract customers. Employ her own tailor. Dreams, she thought. But they were her dreams, and Dane was going to help make them happen.

After he dropped her at the car dealer she collected her car, then drove back to her parents’ home and packed her stuff to take to the city. She planned to spend the rest of the day on the all-important purchase of that evening gown.

Since this was an annual event, before leaving home she surfed the Internet for information on last year’s ball. There she found a photograph of Dane and a prominent politician’s daughter.

Blonde, big-breasted, statuesque. Naturally. Her full-length gown was an elegant sweep of crimson and the neckline dipped low. Very low. Dane’s hand was curled around the woman’s bare shoulder, hugging her close. Mariel ignored the little twinge. Her emotions were not going to become involved in this…affair they were embarking on.

It was late afternoon when she pulled up outside the address he’d given her in one of North Adelaide’s leafy upscale streets and rang him to say she’d arrived. No pesky reporters that she could see as the high gates swung open.

She took a moment to admire the magnificent two-storey villa, with its bay window and its intricate detail in the veranda columns, stark white against the dark stonework of the nineteenth-century dwelling. A stone cherub cavorted in the midst of a circle of carefully tended low shrubs.

She manoeuvred her car into the empty spot beside Dane’s Porsche and sat a moment, rolling her head back on the headrest. She was smart enough to know this arrangement couldn’t lead anywhere. Dane wasn’t her type, and he didn’t do long-term relationships. But, oh, he only had to stand in the same room with her and her libido responded with a kind of sit-up-and-beg.

She didn’t have time to ponder further because Dane appeared to help her unload her car. She followed him through a back door in the garage and around to the rear of the house.

Greenery and a variety of colourful flowering bushes filled an area enclosed by high stone walls. An inground pool mirrored the sky. A wall of glass doors, clearly a modern addition, opened onto the deck. He led her inside, through a kitchen boasting the latest appliances while retaining its old-world charm. They passed comfortable-looking dark leather couches and a vermilion rug on a polished blonde-wood floor. But it was the stunning chessboard on the coffee table that commanded her immediate attention.

‘Oh, wow! This is magnificent.’ She wandered over for a closer inspection.

‘Black and white crystal. Handcrafted. One of a kind.’

Mariel picked up the king. It was comparable to a shampoo bottle in height, and like the other major pieces was tipped in gold. Dane flicked a switch on the side of the board, which was inlaid with mirrors and frosted glass, and the whole thing lit up from beneath. Another switch changed the colour of the light.

‘That is one of the most magnificent boards I’ve ever seen.’

‘I don’t suppose you’ve learned to play?’ he asked hopefully.

‘You know me—couldn’t sit still long enough.’

‘Pity. Nothing I like better than a challenging game of chess.’

And obviously he didn’t get the opportunity often, she thought, noting the fine layer of dust covering the entire thing. ‘Your father taught you, didn’t he?’

‘One of the few lessons of any value that I learned from him.’ His clipped, cold tone didn’t invite further conversation on the matter.

Thoughtful, she set the piece down. It saddened her to think that after all these years there was obviously still bitterness between them. Not that she blamed Dane—it was just sad.

Upstairs, they passed an open doorway. ‘Is this your home office?’ Without waiting for an invitation, she wandered to the balcony. Adelaide’s high-rise buildings jutted into an azure sky smeared with orange in the lowering sun, its reflection in the glass of the buildings flashing over the nearby golf course’s casuarinas and pine trees. She breathed in the scents of summer foliage. Someone was cooking something Oriental; the fragrance of lemongrass and chilli wafted to her nose.

She turned to study the room. An over-crammed bookcase towered against one wall; an antique green lamp sat on the desk beside a modern computer. School trophies and a collection of model cars were displayed on another shelf.

‘Come on, you can explore later.’

Dane opened another door and set her small rolling suitcase down. A breeze drifted through a partially open window.

Mariel saw a pair of French doors that opened onto the balcony, maroon drapes tied back with tassels, black lacquered furniture, a matching antique full-length oval mirror on a stand. The bed was covered in a quilt of the deepest merlot. He’d added a black throw and a couple of overstuffed turquoise cushions.

‘There’s air-conditioning if you prefer.’

‘Fresh air’s fine.’

‘The bathroom’s next door down the hall. You’ll have it all to yourself; I had my own en suite built into the master bedroom.’

‘Thanks.’ She laid the day’s purchases on the bed.

‘Come down when you’re ready and I’ll fix us something for tea.’

As in they’d be dining in? With all these undercurrents swirling them into dangerous waters? She wanted, needed, to be amongst people. Lots of people. To go to the city and smell hot Adelaide pavement and hear familiar Aussie accents.

‘Let’s eat out,’ she said. ‘I know just the place.’