Читать книгу Carole Mortimer Romance Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 14

‘ENJOYING your swim?’

That was exactly what she had been doing! Had been. Lyon’s arrival was sure to spoil that.

Her mother had decided to go into the agency today, insisting Silke take the day off, that she needed a little rest and relaxation after being ill on Saturday evening. Henry had offered her the use of his indoor pool in the grounds of their home, an offer Silke had been only too happy to accept. Until a few seconds ago, that was!

She had been floating aimlessly on her back in the water for the last twenty minutes or so, was enjoying the almost tropical warmth of the beautiful indoor pool, plants and loungers around the spacious pool adding to that effect. But at the first sound of Lyon’s voice she had rolled self-consciously on to her front, swimming to the side now as he stood there watching her.

He looked slightly overdressed in his dark three-piece business suit and pale blue shirt, and considering the heat in here he must be feeling slightly uncomfortable. Not that he looked it, just as arrogantly self-assured as usual as he stood looking down at her.

‘It’s a beautiful pool,’ she answered him warily, conscious of her slicked back hair and make-up-less face. She hadn’t envisaged feeling at quite such a disadvantage the next time she saw him, hadn’t for one moment imagined he would interrupt her leisurely swim. But then, when had Lyon ever done anything she expected him to do! Even so...

‘Henry told me you were here,’ he drily answered the question that had been forming on her lips.

Damn Henry. Didn’t her stepfather realise that Lyon was the main stress and strain she was trying to escape from by taking up her mother’s suggestion that she take the day off? Probably. One thing she was absolutely sure of since coming to know him better: that ‘irresponsible old devil’ pose Henry adopted was just that—a pose. He invariably knew exactly what he was doing. Just as he did this time. He wanted his own way just as much as he protested Lyon always did.

‘We had an appointment at nine-thirty,’ Lyon reminded her when she made no response.

‘I cancelled it,’ she told him dismissively as she climbed the marble steps out of the pool, all the time trying not to hurry her movements and show how uncomfortable she felt dressed in only her brief black bikini, her body lightly golden against the dark material. As quickly as she could without appearing too obvious she pulled on the white towelling robe Henry had provided, wrapping a towel about her wet hair before turning to face Lyon again.

And as she looked at the light mockery in his expression she knew that her efforts had all been wasted; he knew exactly how uncomfortable she had felt emerging from the pool in his presence. Damn him as well as Henry!

‘I’m well aware of the fact that you cancelled the appointment,’ Lyon drawled softly. ‘So I thought I would come and see you instead,’ he added challengingly.

‘The “mountain coming to Mohammed”?’ she derided, settling herself down on a white lounger, relieved to do so, as unnerved as she usually was to be in this man’s company.

His mouth twisted. ‘Something like that. Is the water warm?’

Silke looked up at him frowningly; what did the temperature of the water have to do with their conversation about her broken appointment?

‘Is it?’ he persisted.

‘Very,’ she answered distractedly.

‘In that case—’ he took off his tie, undoing the top button of his shirt ‘—I think I’ll go in for a swim too.’

Silke blinked up at him. ‘You don’t have a costume,’ she stated the obvious.

Dark brows rose over mocking grey eyes as he looked down at her. ‘I always have one here for my use,’ he told her tauntingly. ‘Don’t worry, Silke; I wasn’t about to go skinny-dipping!’

Colour darkened her cheeks at his mockery; it was just like him to realise that had been her immediate worry!

‘We can talk once I’ve had my swim,’ he added arrogantly.

‘I was thinking of leaving,’ Silke told him stiffly, still smarting from his derision. But there was no way she could have sat here calmly while he swam naked—and she knew he was arrogantly sure enough of himself to have done exactly that if he felt like it!

He turned slowly back to look at her. ‘Henry told me you intended spending the day here...?’ He arched questioning brows.

Damn Henry; exactly what was he up to? He knew how much she wanted to avoid Lyon’s company, and yet he had told the other man where she was, and how long she intended staying here.

She shrugged. ‘I have things to do.’

‘They can wait,’ Lyon told her arrogantly. ‘At least until after I’ve had my swim and we’ve talked,’ he added drily as she would have protested at his autocratic manner.

Silke glared after him as he went to get changed. Arrogant, arrogant...God, he was so infuriating; she was starting to repeat herself now!

What could he want to talk to her about? Not her jewellery designs, surely? He had made his feelings clear right from the beginning concerning her mother’s motives for marrying Henry, had classed her in the same category. But he had seemed more than a little interested in the jewellery she had been wearing on Saturday...

‘Why so pensive, Silke?’

She had been so deep in thought that she hadn’t been aware of his return, her eyes widening as she looked up at him standing next to her lounger, swallowing hard as she took in the male beauty of him. Brief black swimming trunks covered the lower part of his body, a body that was tautly muscled, covered in a fine dark hair, the skin lightly tanned. He was breathtaking!

‘Silke?’ he prompted softly as she continued to stare at him.

She blinked, shaking her head slightly to break the spell of his mesmerising virility. But it wasn’t easy to do. She had made love with this man, her body pressed against his, his arms like steel bands about her as he claimed her. And as she looked at him she wanted him again. Oh, God...!

He reached out to remove the towel from about her hair, loosening the silky blonde strands down on to her shoulders, his fingers gently caressing, his gaze intent on her flushed face.

Oh, God, could he see the desire in her face? Was her need of him there in her eyes?

‘Are you coming in for another swim?’

It had been the last thing she’d expected him to say, and her breath left her lungs in a sigh—her first indication that she had been holding her breath in the first place! She swallowed hard. ‘No, I—I think I’ll just sit here for a while,’ she refused awkwardly, not sure if her legs would support her if she should attempt to stand up!

Lyon looked down at her searchingly. ‘Are you still feeling ill?’

She shook her head, the damp tendrils of hair cold about her flushed face. ‘I had been swimming for almost an hour when you arrived,’ she dismissed the suggestion—although she did feel slightly weak-kneed in this man’s presence!

He nodded, straightening, at last removing his hand from her hair—and allowing Silke to breathe once again! ‘I won’t be long,’ he assured her—before diving neatly into the clear water and swimming towards the opposite end of the pool with evenly strong strokes.

He could stay in the water for the rest of the day as far as Silke was concerned; that way she might be able to relax her jangled nerves, and force herself to breathe easily! He really was the most infuriating—! No, he wasn’t infuriating, she admitted heavily; she was just in love with the man—which had to be worse!

What was she going to do about her feelings towards this man? What could she do? He was Henry’s nephew, had been brought up as the son the older man had never had, and with Silke’s mother’s marriage to his uncle Lyon was going to be in her own life for a long time to come. Which was going to be like hell on earth!

She had, in fact, spent much of the weekend and this morning thinking what she was going to do about the situation. And she hadn’t come up with any solutions, other than actually moving away from the area completely, possibly even going abroad somewhere. Maybe if she went to America she might be able to get somewhere with her designs. It was the only really feasible idea she had come up with so far, but it seemed a little drastic even so.

‘You are pensive, aren’t you?’ Lyon frowned as he sat down on the lounger next to hers, towelling the darkness of his hair dry as he did so.

Silke forced a lightness to her expression. ‘Deep in thought,’ she corrected dismissively.

‘Concerning what?’ Lyon still watched her intently.

She gave a light laugh. ‘Really, Lyon, you’re being extremely rude; aren’t a person’s thoughts supposed to be the one thing that is completely private?’

He gave a rueful smile. ‘I thought we had both agreed that I am “extremely rude”; so what were you thinking about?’

She couldn’t very well say, ‘You!’ ‘The future,’ she shrugged. ‘I have a few decisions to make.’

‘About Cameron?’ he bit out, his eyes narrowed, the white towel about his neck now as he sat forward on the lounger.

Silke gave an impatient sigh. ‘I thought I told you James means nothing to me; he certainly doesn’t come into any of my plans for the future!’

Lyon nodded dismissively. ‘Good!’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Then what are these plans? No,’ he added firmly. ‘Before you tell me what you’re thinking of doing, let me tell you of the offer Buchanan’s wants to make to you.’

‘No!’ She sat up abruptly, dark green eyes flashing a warning. ‘I don’t want Buchanan’s to “make me an offer”—’

‘Buchanan’s—or me?’ he grated harshly.

‘Aren’t they one and the same?’ she challenged.

‘Possibly,’ he conceded softly.

‘Definitely,’ she said with feeling. ‘And less than two weeks ago you believed I was nothing but a little gold-digger who intended marrying your uncle for what I could get! The fact that it was my mother who married Henry instead doesn’t change that fact, and I have no intention of accepting anything from you or Buchanan’s!’

‘It’s not a question of accepting anything—’

‘Yes, it is,’ she interrupted with feeling. ‘What happened between us last week hasn’t helped the situation either.’ Colour darkened her cheeks even as she mentioned the subject.

His mouth tightened. ‘This offer has nothing to do with that!’

‘Doesn’t it?’ she scorned. ‘I doubt very much that’s true. You had absolutely no interest in my designs until then.’

‘I hadn’t seen any of them then!’ Lyon rasped, eyes lightly grey.

‘You haven’t seen any of them now!’ Silke returned heatedly. ‘The set I was wearing on Saturday is not enough for you to base a serious decision like this—’

‘I’m a businessman, Silke,’ he cut in harshly. ‘I never make business decisions lightly. Of course I’ve seen other of your designs, as have the rest of the board. And we all agreed that—’

‘Just a minute,’ she interrupted softly, holding up a silencing hand. ‘When did you see any other of my designs?’ She looked at him searchingly.

He returned that gaze just as searchingly, the anger and suspicion in her face unmistakable. ‘Hmm,’ he finally murmured. ‘I have a feeling we have a serious problem here.’

Silke’s gaze didn’t waver. ‘When did you see other of my designs, Lyon?’ she repeated evenly, the flashing of her eyes belying that calmness.

He shrugged. ‘Last week. At the board meeting. All the board saw them.’

‘And just how did my designs get into your board meeting, Lyon?’ she asked steadily. But she knew. Of course she knew!

How dared they? And she knew it had to be ‘they’; Henry might have the arrogance to present her designs to Buchanan’s board without her permission, but she didn’t for one moment believe he had been the one to acquire them from her flat in the first place. Her mother had to have been involved in this too. And Silke was furious at their interference in her life in this underhand way.

Lyon drew in a deeply controlling breath. ‘Henry didn’t have your permission to show them, did he?’ he said slowly, eyes narrowed thoughtfully on her flushed face.

‘Of course he didn’t,’ she snapped. ‘I told him exactly what I thought of the idea of my designs being introduced at Buchanan’s!’

Lyon nodded. ‘Because you genuinely don’t believe your designs are good enough—or because of me?’

The colour deepened in her cheeks. ‘Of course my designs are good enough—’ She broke off abruptly, her gaze challenging as she saw the derision in his face at her admission of its being him that was the problem.

Well, she would be lying if she claimed otherwise; no one in their right mind, in normal circumstances, would pass up the opportunity to market their jewellery designs in a prestigious store like Buchanan’s. And she might not be a lot of things, but she was definitely in her right mind. But these were not normal circumstances, and she had no intention of using her new family connection to achieve that end.

‘So it’s me,’ Lyon said softly.

‘Not for the reason you think!’ she denied heatedly.

Dark brows rose over silver-grey eyes. ‘And what reason do I think?’ he challenged evenly.

‘Look, Lyon—’ she stood up, moving away from him, needlessly tightening the belt on her towelling robe ‘—I don’t feel like playing games—’

‘I’m not playing games, Silke.’ He had stood up too, was now standing dangerously close behind her. Dangerously. Because when he was this close to her Silke couldn’t even think straight, let alone try and match him in a verbal way. ‘Why am I such a problem to you?’

‘You aren’t a—problem—to—me...’ She had spun round to vehemently deny the claim—only to then realise just how close Lyon was, standing only inches away from her now, Silke staring up at him with widely apprehensive eyes.

He reached out to touch the heat of one of her cheeks with cool fingertips. ‘I don’t think that’s exactly true, Silke,’ he murmured huskily. ‘And you’re certainly a problem for me,’ he added gruffly.

She swallowed hard, mesmerised by his darkly powerful face. ‘I am?’ she said breathlessly, completely unable to move away from the caress of his hand.

‘You are,’ he nodded, his gaze locked with hers.

She moistened suddenly dry lips—instantly stopping the action when she saw how his gaze darkened at the movement. ‘Why?’

He gave a half-smile, slightly self-derisive. ‘You’ve been a problem for me since the moment I first saw you at the store in that ridiculous bunny girl costume!’ He shook his head at the memory.

Silke still cringed at the thought of that day. ‘I can’t go on apologising for that mistake for the rest of my life—’

‘I wasn’t asking you to apologise,’ Lyon dismissed lightly. ‘I don’t think you—’

‘Am I interrupting something?’

Silke spun round self-consciously at the sound of Henry’s voice, realising as she saw the speculation in curious grey eyes how damning the situation must look with Lyon and herself standing close together like this, Lyon’s hand still resting against her cheek, a cheek now grown even warmer in her feeling of awkwardness.

‘I thought I might join the two of you for a swim,’ Henry continued drily, holding up his towel as proof of his claim. ‘But I can see I’ll just be in the way,’ he added with some amusement.

It was totally the wrong thing for him to say as far as Silke was concerned. After what he had done last week, how dared he come in here talking in that indulgently patronising tone, implying—well, just implying! The last thing she wanted was for Henry to get the wrong impression about Lyon and herself; she would never hear the end of it, from either Henry or her mother.

She moved pointedly away from Lyon, deliberately not looking at him now either, although she could sense his gaze on her. She glared at Henry. ‘You aren’t in the way at all, Henry,’ she bit out tautly. ‘In fact, you’re just the person I wanted to see!’

‘Oh, dear,’ he grimaced, frowning. ‘I recognise that light of battle in your eyes, Silke; you look just the way your mother did at eighteen.’

‘I probably feel the same way my mother did at eighteen!’ she snapped impatiently. ‘You undoubtedly walked all over her feelings too!’

Henry’s frown deepened. ‘What have I done now?’

‘I should take care if I were you, Henry,’ Lyon drawled, stepping back—as if he were about to stand back and enjoy watching the show. ‘You’re standing on very shaky ground. And, actually, in this case, I happen to agree with Silke,’ he added seriously.

She looked at him in surprise. ‘You do?’

His mouth quirked with humour. ‘I do,’ he confirmed drily.

She gave him a frustrated glare before turning away to look at Henry again, the anger still in her face. ‘You and Mummy had no right to take my designs out of my flat—’

‘Ah,’ Henry gave a guilty grimace. ‘But Silke, we were only thinking of you,’ he added in a cajoling tone. ‘Your designs are brilliant; I don’t know why someone hasn’t snapped them up years ago. And—’

‘Stop the flattery, Henry,’ she cut in forcefully. ‘You had no right doing what you did without my permission!’ Her eyes flashed deeply green.

‘It’s probably a criminal offence,’ Lyon put in softly.

It was his uncle’s turn to glare now. ‘You stay out of this, Lyon,’ Henry snapped.

‘Just pointing out a relevant fact,’ Lyon shrugged, the amusement still in his eyes.

‘Just enjoying yourself, you mean,’ his uncle accused in a disgruntled voice.

Lyon gave another dismissive shrug, moving to sit on one of the loungers. ‘Don’t mind me,’ he invited lightly, looking up at the two of them as Silke and Henry faced each other across the pool like adversaries.

Which, as far as Silke was concerned, at this moment, they were. But, nevertheless, she had no intention of putting on a show for Lyon. No matter how angry she was with Henry!

‘I have no intention of even discussing this further,’ she bit out tautly, that angry flush still in her cheeks. ‘I think what you and Mummy did was despicable,’ she told Henry with feeling.

‘I agree,’ Lyon put in softly.

‘And as for you—’ Silke turned on him furiously ‘—I don’t even want to hear the offer you were going to make me! We both know it actually has nothing to do with my designs, and neither of us owes the other anything just because of what happened between us last week.’ She was breathing hard in her deep agitation.

What Lyon was doing was tantamount to ‘payment for services rendered’—an obligation he felt because of her innocence before that night!

‘What happened between the two of you last week?’ Henry put in curiously.

Silke looked at him with stricken eyes, realising exactly what she had done; Henry was nothing if not determined, and she doubted he would let this go now that he sensed there was more to Silke’s relationship to Lyon than either he or her mother could have possibly guessed. But that was Lyon’s problem. She was getting out of here, as far away from these two men as possible!

But before she could make a move, Lyon spoke. ‘Mind your own business,’ he told the older man coldly.

‘But—’

‘Stay out of this, Henry.’ Lyon stood up, turning to Silke now, the coldness leaving his expression. ‘Silke, we—’

‘There isn’t a “we”,’ she told him heatedly. ‘Not a business “we”, and certainly not a personal one! Just leave me alone!’

‘Silke—’

‘I said leave me alone, Lyon,’ she bit out vehemently, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. ‘Just stay away from me. Both of you!’ she warned before turning and running from the poolside.

And she wanted to keep on running and never stop!