Читать книгу Mills & Boon Modern Romance Collection: February 2015 - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 11
ОглавлениеDARIUS’S EXPRESSION WAS GRIM as he looked down into the Midas nightclub from the window in his executive office on the second floor.
The club was busy tonight, as it was every night, the glamorous and the famous all wishing to see or be seen as patrons of the fashionable and prestigious members-only Midas nightclub.
Everything about the club spoke of the same opulence as the restaurant on the ground floor; the walls up here were covered in gold silk paper, the dance floor the same gleaming black marble as the pillars supporting the second-floor gallery, where people could stand and talk or just observe the other patrons. The tables placed about the club were rounds of black marble, on gold pedestals, surrounded by comfortable black leather armchairs and sofas.
And Darius, hands in the pockets of his trousers, was able to stand and observe it all, from his aerie on the second floor.
The coloured lights swept across the dance floor full of bodies gyrating to the heavy beat of the loud music. The quietly efficient bar staff, dressed in their black uniforms, were serving champagne and cocktails and everything in between to the people standing about the bar, or sitting at the tables that edged the dance floor. There were curved, leather-seated booths further back in the nightclub, for those patrons wishing for a more private, intimate evening.
It was to one of those booths in particular that Darius’s gaze had kept drifting for the past half an hour as he stood at the window looking out.
It was a booth that continued to remain empty, despite the reserved sign sitting in the centre of the black marble tabletop.
Darius’s mouth tightened in irritation with his own feelings of disappointment. Despite her youth, and the delicacy of appearance, he had hoped that the green-eyed blonde would accept the challenge he had laid down by inviting her and her family up to the nightclub as his guests. That the interest he had seen in her eyes would at least make her curious enough to encourage her family to accept that invitation. Learning during his conversation with Colin Freeman that the other man actually worked for one of Darius’s companies had been something of a bonus, after he had all but stalked the man into the Gents.
Even so, the emptiness of that reserved booth now continued to mock him.
He had been a fool to expect anything else. So the beautiful blonde hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him earlier. So what? Wasn’t the mouse just as mesmerised by the cobra?
No doubt the reason for her interest earlier had been because she’d known exactly who he was, and she had heard those dark rumours about Darius Sterne and been fascinated by the danger he represented. A danger that was no doubt the complete opposite of her own safe little life. An arm’s-length danger that she felt comfortable viewing across a crowded restaurant, but didn’t have the courage to actually meet head-on. As she didn’t have the courage to meet Darius face to—
There was the merest prickling sensation of warning at Darius’s nape, a quiver of awareness down the length of his spine before he looked up and saw the green-eyed blonde standing at the entrance to the nightclub.
Her brother-in-law had referred to her as Andy when the two men had spoken earlier. It seemed far too masculine a name for a woman who looked so totally feminine.
Darius’s narrowed gaze remained fixed on her as her brother-in-law spoke briefly to Stephen, the security man Darius had warned to expect them, before the three of them then followed the security guard into the darkness of the club.
Andy walked ahead of her sister and brother-in-law, her head held high, almost in challenge. Almost as if she knew someone was watching her. As she walked her ash-blonde hair moved silkily about her shoulders.
She was taller than Darius had thought when she was sitting down in the restaurant, possibly five-eight in her stockinged feet, putting her height at about five-ten in the two-inch-heeled black strappy sandals she wore. They were conservative heels, considering that some of the women in the club tonight were wearing heels as high as six or seven inches.
Her black dress was also modest in style; it was sleeveless, yes, revealing those bare and gracefully slender arms, but the curved neckline wasn’t even low enough to reveal the soft swell of the tops of her breasts, and its knee-length was a complete contrast to the bottom-skimming dresses being worn by every other woman in the club.
Darius realised she was even less his usual type than he had initially thought she was.
* * *
‘Andy is a man’s name.’
Andy’s fingers tightened about the stem of her champagne glass at the first sound of that huskily censorious voice coming from just behind her. A sexily throaty voice that she knew instinctively, without even needing to turn and look, belonged to none other than Darius Sterne.
After all, who else could it be?
She was pretty sure she didn’t know anyone else in this place apart from Kim and Colin, who were currently out on the dance floor somewhere. And no doubt the couple were still arguing over the fact that Kim hadn’t wanted to come up to the Midas nightclub at all and Colin had insisted that they had to, that it would be extremely rude of him not to take up his employer’s generous invitation.
It was an argument Andy had stayed out of, mainly because her own feelings on the subject were mixed. Part of her had wanted to go up to the club to see if Darius was there, another part of her had hoped that he wouldn’t be.
His presence behind her had now answered that particular question, at least.
But Darius’s sudden appearance at that private booth, so soon after Colin had persuaded Kim to go and dance with him, the two of them having now totally disappeared into the midst of the other gyrating dancers, made Andy question whether or not Colin working for Midas Enterprises had been the reason they had received special treatment, after all...
She had felt as if she were being watched when they arrived at the club. As if unseen eyes were following her progress as she’d walked to the table ahead of Colin and Kim. Although a surreptitious glance around the room had revealed mild interest from several of the men present, it was not enough to have caused that quiver of awareness down the length of her spine.
Except the feeling had persisted.
Just the thought of being watched by Darius now made Andy shift uncomfortably.
She straightened her shoulders, firmly instructing her fingers to stop their trembling as she composed her expression before she turned to look up at him. There would be no wide eyes and gaping mouth for her.
Instead her breath caught in the back of her throat as she was once again struck by the immediacy of Darius Sterne as he stood just feet behind her.
There was that zing of electricity, of course, but he also looked so very tall and sinfully dark in the dimmed lighting of this part of the room.
Andy had to force herself to meet the intensity of his gaze as she moistened the sudden dryness of her lips with the tip of her tongue, before finally answering him. ‘It’s short for Miranda.’
Darius nodded, liking the soft huskiness of her voice. And the name Miranda. It was so much more feminine than Andy. As Miranda herself was totally feminine.
Miranda was also a name that a man could murmur fiercely into the side of a woman’s throat as he thrust into her before climaxing inside her...
He was close enough to Miranda now to be able to reach out and touch the silkiness of her hair. Her skin was pale and luminescent, a soft glow against the black of her dress, and she wore little or no make-up, perhaps mascara and a soft peach lip gloss. He could see now that her eyes weren’t just emerald-green, as he had thought they were earlier, but shot through with shards of gold and blue. They were unusually beautiful eyes for an unusually beautiful woman.
A beautiful woman who had once again succeeded in arousing him at a glance. An arousal that had deepened as he’d watched the moistness of her tongue sweep across the fullness of her lips before she spoke with that sexily husky voice.
A voice he could easily imagine crying out his own name as they climaxed together.
‘Mind if I join you?’ he prompted as a waitress appeared and placed a fourth champagne glass on the table before quietly disappearing again.
Miranda raised blonde brows in the direction of that fourth glass. ‘It would appear that you already have.’
‘It would, wouldn’t it?’ Darius acknowledged as he made no move to sit down but instead moved to stand further inside the booth, his back to the room, at the same time as he blocked Miranda from looking at anything but him.
‘Do we have you to thank for the champagne?’ She held up her glass.
Darius nodded. ‘It’s the same champagne you were drinking with your meal earlier on this evening.’
A frown appeared between those magnificent green eyes. ‘You noticed that from across the room?’
‘I asked the sommelier on my way out of the restaurant,’ he admitted huskily as he slid into the leather seat opposite her, his gaze continuing to hold hers as he poured himself a glass of champagne.
A blush warmed her cheeks and she was the first to look away.
‘We were celebrating.’
‘Oh?’
She nodded. ‘It’s my birthday today.’
Darius found himself scowling. What were the chances of this woman’s birthday being the same day as his mother’s?
‘I’m twenty-three today,’ Miranda supplied abruptly, as if his continued silence unnerved her.
So she was ten years younger than his own thirty-three years, Darius realised—and a lifetime in experience. Yet another reason why he should just get up and walk away from this woman.
‘Would you like to dance?’ he heard himself say instead, his mind, or another, more demanding, part of his anatomy, obviously having other ideas on the subject.
The soft curve of her jaw instantly tensed. ‘No, thank you.’
‘That was a very definite no,’ Darius murmured.
‘I don’t dance in public.’ Those green eyes now met his probing gaze unblinkingly.
Darius looked at her searchingly, noting the increased tension in her shoulders, and the way her fingers had tightened about her champagne glass until the knuckles showed white. Of course, it could be that he made her nervous just by being here, but somehow he thought there was more to it than that.
‘Only in private?’ he prompted softly.
‘Not then, either.’
‘Why not?’ he demanded abruptly.
She blinked at his terseness, before just as quickly regaining her composure. ‘Maybe I’m just no good at it?’
Darius couldn’t believe that when everything about this woman spoke of grace and poise: the delicate arch of her throat, the way she held herself so elegantly, her fingers long and tapered, her legs slender and shapely. Even her feet and toes appeared graceful in those black strappy sandals. They were graceful and elegant toes he could all too easily imagine moving caressingly along the bare length of his thigh as he made love to her.
‘Now tell me the real reason,’ he bit out harshly.
Andy gave an inner start, not just at Darius’s perception, but also his ability to cut out all unnecessary conversation and just go straight to the point of what he wanted to know. No doubt that stood him in good stead in business, but she found it more than a little disconcerting on a personal level.
Everything about this man was disconcerting on a personal level. The perfect fit of his suit jacket over those wide and muscled shoulders. The flatness of his abdomen beneath the black shirt. The long, long length of his legs.
Those sharply arresting features, dominated by the intensity of that probing topaz gaze as it remained fixed on her so intently.
She forced a smile to her lips. ‘You appear to know my name, and have helped yourself to some of my birthday champagne,’ she added dryly, ‘but so far you haven’t even bothered to introduce yourself.’
‘Let’s not play games, Miranda; we’re both aware that you know exactly who I am.’
Yes, of course Andy knew who he was. She just had absolutely no idea what Darius was doing even talking to her, let alone engaging in what she felt sure was, for him, flirtation.
Just looking at that hard and chiselled face was enough to tell her that this wasn’t a man who would heap flowery compliments and charm on a woman in order to seduce her. That he was far too self-contained, too sure of his own attractiveness, to ever need or want to do that.
But she did believe he was flirting with her now.
Oh, yes, every single nerve-ending in Andy’s body was screaming out that awareness; her nipples were hard buds against the soft material of her dress and there was a heat, a swelling, between her thighs.
Darius Sterne was definitely flirting with her. Andy just had no idea why he was even bothering with someone like her when there were so many glamorously beautiful women in the room. Women who would be only too happy to dance or do anything else with or for him.
‘Of course.’ She nodded. ‘It was very kind of you to extend an invitation to Colin and his family to come up and enjoy your nightclub, Mr Sterne.’
‘I thought I said no games, Miranda,’ he bit out challengingly.
She eyed him warily. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘We both know I invited you to come up to my nightclub, Miranda, so that the two of us could meet,’ he corrected harshly. ‘Your sister and brother-in-law were incidental to that invitation.’
Andy swept a slightly hounded glance in the direction of the dance floor, silently cursing when she still couldn’t see Kim and Colin amongst the writhing bodies, let alone send one of them a silent plea for help. She was finding it more and more difficult to maintain any semblance of polite conversation with a man who just refused to reciprocate that politeness.
‘You still haven’t answered my question as to why it is you don’t dance in public.’
Andy felt decidedly uncomfortable at being the focus of the intensity of this man. It was as if Darius could see into the very depths of her soul. And that by doing so he was also able to see all of her hopes and dreams.
And how most of them had been shattered four years ago.
That notion was ridiculous. This man didn’t know the first thing about her.
‘Hell, now I realise why you seemed familiar to me earlier,’ he murmured slowly. ‘You’re the ballerina Miranda Jacobs.’
So he did know something about her.
He knew everything about her that truly mattered...
Andy drew her breath in sharply. ‘Not any more,’ she bit out stiffly, very aware that her face had paled in shock, and that it was no longer just her hands that were trembling but all of her. ‘Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom!’ She quickly gathered up her black clutch bag before moving along the leather seat, with the intention of making good her escape.
Only to find that escape circumvented as one of Darius’s hands moved quickly across the table and his fingers clamped about her wrist. Not hard enough to actually hurt her, but definitely firmly enough to prevent her from escaping.
The intensity of his penetrating gaze was enough to cause her protest to die in her throat; she knew instinctively, that Darius simply wasn’t a man who took orders, from anyone.
Andy blinked hastily as her vision blurred. She wouldn’t cry. Not here, and certainly not in front of Darius Sterne. ‘Please let go of my arm, Mr Sterne.’
‘Darius.’
She gave a protesting shake of her head. ‘Please, release me.’
He didn’t remove his hand. Andy instead felt the soft pad of Darius’s thumb move caressingly, soothingly, against the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. Increasing her physical awareness of him, despite the fact that seconds ago she had just wanted to escape from the painful memories his words had evoked.
‘I was there that night four years ago, Miranda,’ Darius stated evenly, able to feel the wild fluttering of her pulse beneath the pad of his thumb, to see the look of pained shock in those green eyes for exactly what it was, as well as the deathly pallor of her cheeks. ‘I was in the theatre that night,’ he added, so that there could be no doubts left in her mind as to exactly what he was talking about. ‘The night of your accident.’
‘No!’ she protested weakly.
‘Yes.’ Darius nodded grimly, remembering clearly, as if in slow motion, watching the young ballerina on the stage as she seemed to stumble, attempt to stop herself from falling, before losing her balance completely and crashing down off the stage.
The whole audience had gasped, including Darius, followed by a hushed silence as the music and other dancers froze, and they all waited to know the extent of her injuries.
The realisation that she was the same Miranda Jacobs, the up-and-coming ballerina who had been lauded by the press and critics alike but had been forced to retire four years ago, following that aborted performance as Odette in Swan Lake, now explained so much about her.
That recognition Darius had when he looked at her, for one thing.
Her natural, almost ethereal slenderness, for another.
That fluidity of grace she possessed, just walking across a room. A gracefulness that was apparent in everything she did. Sitting, crossing her ankles, or lifting her champagne glass to her lips.
Everything about this woman was innately graceful.
Even the pained vulnerability he could now see in her eyes.
He had touched on a subject that so obviously caused her immense pain and distress.
Not surprising, when just four short years ago Miranda Jacobs had been called the Margot Fonteyn of her age. She had been an absolute joy to watch that night, mesmerisingly so. And that hadn’t been just Darius’s opinion, but also that of all the reviewers and the newspapers the following day as the headlines had delivered the news of the terrible accident on stage that might possibly mark the end of such a young and promising career.
That had been the end to Miranda Jacobs’s career as a professional ballet dancer; those same newspapers had reported just days later that her injuries were so extensive she would never dance professionally again.
Well, that might be true professionally...
Darius stood up abruptly before moving round the table and exerting a light pressure on Miranda’s wrist as he pulled her to her feet beside him. ‘Let’s dance.’
Her expression was panicked as she pulled against that hold on her wrist. ‘No.’
Darius stilled. ‘Is there any medical reason that says you can’t do a slow dance?’
Her eyes flashed a glittering emerald. ‘I’m not a cripple, Mr Sterne, I’m just no longer capable of dancing in a professional capacity.’
‘Then let’s go.’ His tone brooked no argument as he released her hand to instead place his arm firmly about the slenderness of her waist, holding her possessively into his side as he strode towards the dance floor, deliberately catching the eye of the DJ and giving the other man a barely perceptible nod of his head as he did so.
Mere seconds later the tempo of the music changed to a slow love song.
‘That was convenient,’ Miranda bit out abruptly as the two of them stepped onto the dance floor.
‘No, actually, it was deliberate,’ Darius dismissed unapologetically; he wanted this woman in his arms, and he wasn’t about to pretend otherwise.
She gave a protesting shake of her head, the straight curtain of her hair moving about her shoulders as she placed her hands against his chest, with the obvious intention of pushing him away. ‘I really don’t want to dance.’
‘Liar,’ Darius stated arrogantly as he refused to release her; he had felt the increase of the pulse in her wrist, and his arms about her waist now allowed him to feel the fluttering of excitement that ran through the whole of her body. Very like that of a caged and wounded bird longing to be set free.
Damn it, he was starting to sound poetic again!
If nothing else, his mother’s distant behaviour towards him these past twenty years had taught him that women were fickle and cold and not to be trusted with his feelings.
Nor did he become involved, in any way, with women who were complicated, or wounded, as Miranda Jacobs so obviously was. He carried around enough emotional baggage, the rest of his family’s as well as his own, without taking on someone else’s. Hell, he didn’t become involved with women at all, except in the bedroom, and even then only on a purely sexual basis. Just a scratch to his itch.
But having forced the dancing issue he could hardly back down now. ‘Move your feet, Miranda,’ he encouraged huskily as he lifted her hands up onto his shoulders before pulling her closer still as he began to move slowly in time to the music, leaving Miranda with no choice but to follow his lead.
She was so slender in his arms that Darius almost felt as if he might bruise the willowy slenderness curved against his much larger and harder frame. And if he feared bruising her, just from dancing with her, how much more likely was it that he would completely crush her if he were to ever attempt to make love with her?
That was no longer even a possibility.
Making love to this woman was a definite no-no as far as Darius was concerned. Knowing who she was, who she had been, he also knew this woman was just too vulnerable, her past making her far too emotionally complicated, for him to even contemplate continuing his pursuit of the attraction he felt between the two of them. One dance together, and that was it. Then he would take her back to her booth, before returning to his office until she and the rest of her family had left the nightclub.
Never to return.
Yes, that was what he would do.
Her hair felt smooth as he rested his cheek lightly against it, those silver-gold tresses smelling of citrus and some deeper, enticing spice, that caused his hardened body to throb achingly as he breathed the scent deeply into his lungs. An arousal that Miranda, with the proximity of their two bodies, couldn’t help but be completely aware of.
* * *
Andy was too disturbed at first, at finding herself dancing in public again, albeit in a crowded club, to be aware of anything else. But as her nerves slowly settled, and the trembling stopped, she couldn’t help but become completely aware of the man she was dancing with.
She was five-eight in her bare feet, and even adding a couple of inches for the heels on her sandals Darius still towered over her by a good five or six inches. The width of his shoulders felt hard and muscled beneath her fingers. His chest and abdomen felt just as firmly muscled as he curved her body against and into his. As evidence, perhaps, that he didn’t spend all of his time behind a desk counting his billions.
Well...no, she was sure that Darius spent a lot of energy exercising in his bedroom too. Horizontally!
None of which changed the fact that being so totally aware of the hardness of his thighs, and the heavy length of his arousal pressing against her contrasting softness, had completely taken her mind off the fact that she was actually dancing in public again. More of a shuffle, really, but it was still dancing.
And it was with Darius Sterne.
Darius had to be at least ten years older than her, as well as far more experienced and sophisticated. He was a man who no doubt changed the women in his bed as often as some minion changed the silk sheets for him afterwards, which would be often.
Andy already knew those silk sheets would be black—
Already knew?
Did that mean she was seriously imagining herself one day sharing Darius’s bed sheets with him? Sharing his bed?
She hadn’t needed to be in this man’s company for two minutes to know that she should have heeded Kim’s warning earlier. To know that Darius would eat her alive. Totally possess her. Devour her. Inch by fleshly inch. Bit by arousing bit!
The shiver that now coursed down Andy’s spine was one of pleasurable anticipation. A longing, a yearning, for whatever Darius wanted to give her.
She couldn’t do this.
No doubt other woman, so many other women, would be flattered just to have attracted the attention of a man like Darius. Even more so, to know that he had deliberately engineered her presence in the Midas club tonight, before he had swooped down on her, his arousal now unmistakeable as he danced so close against her.
Other women would be flattered.
Andy couldn’t have the luxury of allowing herself to be flattered by the attentions of a man as dangerous as she considered Darius to be. Not when she knew it could ultimately lead nowhere.
Four years ago her dreams had been shattered. The dream she’d had since the age of five, of being a world-class ballerina, had come crashing down about her ears. Just as surely as she had come crashing down off the stage, shattering her hip and thigh bones.
It had taken over a year of operations and physical therapy for Andy to even be able to walk again, let alone be strong enough to rise up from beneath the misery threatening to bury her. But she had finally done it, had known she had no choice, that she needed to seriously consider her options for the future, now that she could no longer pursue her longed for career.
In the end she had realised that ballet was all she knew; she had won a scholarship to ballet school when she was eleven, had lived, eaten and breathed that world for so long, she couldn’t imagine ever cutting herself off from it completely.
Opening up her own dance studio, while making her painfully aware of her own inadequacies, had seemed the natural solution.
Even that had taken hard work, and Andy had studied hard to take her teaching certificate, before just six months ago finally managing to open her own dance studio. She still had a long way to go for it to be as successful as she wanted it to be.
She certainly didn’t have the time, or the emotional energy, to indulge in even a flirtation with a man like Darius. A man who she had no doubts broke women’s hearts on a regular basis. A man who would have made no secret of the fact that none of those women had meant any more to him than just another conquest, a beautiful body to be enjoyed in his bed, and totally forgotten about the following morning.
Except Andy’s body was no longer beautiful; how could it be, when it bore the physical scars from those many operations?
She pulled out of his arms the moment the song came to an end. ‘As I said, thank you for inviting us all up here, and for the champagne and the dance.’ She made her voice deliberately light, her smile bright and meaningless. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I see that my sister and brother-in-law are waiting for me at the table, no doubt so that we can all leave,’ she added wryly. Kim, at least, was glaring accusingly across the room at Darius.
He frowned. ‘It’s still early.’
‘Maybe for you.’ Andy nodded. ‘Some of us have to get up for work in the morning.’
‘Doing what?’
Her chin rose. ‘I now own my own dance studio, teaching ballet to children. Yes,’ she snapped as she saw his eyebrows rise, ‘a typical example of “those that can’t, teach”! Now, if you’ll excuse me?’
‘No!’
Andy looked up at him uncertainly as she heard vehemence in his tone. ‘No?’
It was one thing for Darius to have decided he couldn’t take his attraction towards this woman any further than he already had, and quite another for Miranda to decide to walk away from him.
Damn it, had he really become so arrogant that he couldn’t accept a woman’s lack of interest in him for what it was?
Hell, yes, he was that arrogant!
Most especially when he knew that Miranda wasn’t uninterested in him at all.
The sexual tension between the two of them had been palpable downstairs in the restaurant earlier, and it was even deeper now that they had actually talked, and then danced together.
‘Have dinner with me tomorrow night,’ Darius prompted abruptly as he turned to place a restraining hand on her arm before they could reach the table where her sister and brother-in-law were waiting for her.
‘I— What—? No!’ Miranda looked totally flustered by the invitation.
‘Why on earth not?’ He scowled darkly.
She gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘As I said, I’m grateful to you for inviting us up to your club, and—and everything else. It’s made my birthday even more special. I just— This— You and me— It isn’t going anywhere.’
‘I only invited you out to dinner, Miranda, not to become the mother of my children,’ he pointed out dryly.
The colour had first drained and then deepened in her cheeks. ‘And when was the last time you invited a woman out to dinner without the expectation of taking her to bed at the end of the evening?’ Her pointed chin rose challengingly as she looked up at him.
‘And what makes you so sure that isn’t going to happen?’ he purred.
Andy wasn’t sure of anything in regard to her undeniable and unexpected attraction to this man; that was the problem!
It would be too easy to become completely caught up in Darius, in his mesmerising attractiveness, in that arrogance and certainty, only to have all of that crash down about her ears when he realised, when he saw, her physical imperfections.
Physical imperfections, scars, which she had no doubts would illicit either pity or disgust. And Andy wanted neither of those things from Darius.
‘I said no, I won’t have dinner with you tomorrow, Mr Sterne. Or any other time,’ Andy added as she pointedly removed her arm from his grasp. ‘Excuse me.’ She didn’t wait for a response from him this time as she turned and walked away determinedly.
As she turned and walked away from the man she knew, instinctively, was capable of capturing her heart before just as quickly breaking it.
