Читать книгу Modern Romance May 2015 Books 1-8 - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 29
ОглавлениеHOPE FLARED BUT was immediately swallowed up by a depressing wave of realism. He was no fairy godmother. It would be hard to think of a less appropriate analogy, even if he had been oozing the milk of human kindness instead of a headache-inducing level of testosterone.
‘And afterwards,’ he continued, ‘I will fund any physical therapy and aftercare.’
When things sounded too good to be true there was often a very good reason.
‘Why?’
She was unable to stop herself—her hostile gaze slid up the impeccably tailored length of him, but she knew during the journey over dark grey suit, white shirt and narrow burgundy tie that it wasn’t hostility that made her stomach muscles tighten and quiver, which was stupid because she had never gone for the ‘groomed to within an inch of his life’ look. It always suggested a vanity that she didn’t find attractive. And he was so groomed he could have stepped right out of one of those glossy ads, the sort that suggested that if you bought the car, the fragrance, the shampoo, you, too, could look like this.
Only you wouldn’t. There might be a few pale imitations but Sebastian was definitely a one-off, and in her opinion one too many. All the same, to look at him was... She just stopped herself sighing; the light flush along the high, smooth curve of her cheekbones she could not control... He would have been easier to tolerate had there been a single thing to criticise. Physical perfection when it came with a massive sense of superiority was not attractive.
Tell that to your hormones, Mari.
The suggestion of a smile touched his expressive lips as he studied her face. ‘Don’t worry, there are no strings.’
She lifted a hand to brush away the heavy strand of dark red hair that a gust of wind had plastered across her face, the same gust that ruffled his close-cropped dark hair up into attractive spikes.
‘I wouldn’t accept charity from you if my life depended on it!’ she told him in a clear, confident voice.
His brows lifted. ‘You can pay lip service to your pride if you want, but it’s not your life we are talking about, is it?’
She flushed at the quiet reprimand. ‘We have a more than adequate health service.’
It was irrational to be irritated by her attitude considering his entire plan rested on her stubborn pride.
‘True, but it is also overstretched. Taking your brother out of that system would free up a bed and cash to allow another person to be treated.’
‘One who doesn’t have a charitable benefactor? Thanks but no, thanks.’ She shook her head and looked at him coldly. ‘We pay our way and we don’t accept charity.’
‘Then don’t call it charity, or are you willing to put your pride ahead of your brother’s well-being?’ And now who is being manipulative, Seb?
Close on her brother’s accusation his comment really stung. Mari swallowed, suddenly struggling to force the words past the aching occlusion in her throat. She wouldn’t cry, not now, not in front of this man.
‘Call it a loan.’
Mari’s hope flared and died; she had seen the figures in the glossy brochure. ‘We would never be able to pay it back.’ But could she really sit back and watch her brother struggle back to health when she could have made it so much easier?
He angled a dark brow. ‘I got the impression that your brother has an entirely more pragmatic attitude than you...towards charity? I could have been wrong...?’
He wasn’t, damn him. If she refused this offer Mark would never forgive her, and if she took it she would never be able to live with herself.
It was a lose-lose situation.
‘Why didn’t you just make this offer to him? Why did you have to bring me into it at all?’
‘I wanted to see if you are as stubborn and proud as I thought you were—you are.’
‘So this is some sort of twisted test? Presumably I failed so now you punish both of—’
His voice was gravelled with irritation as he cut across her. ‘I have no desire for revenge on your brother, and unlike you I don’t think collateral damage is legitimate.’ He allowed her guilty flush to develop before finishing softly, ‘If I want to punish you I will.’
Looking into the mirrored surface of his dark eyes, Mari had no problem believing him.
‘So you’re saying that you do want revenge on me.’ She held a tight grip on her bravado and fought off the effects of the apprehensive shiver that slid its clammy way down her spine. It would take a very dim person not to realise being the target of this man’s revenge would not be comfortable.
‘If I did I’d be stupid to warn you, wouldn’t I?’
Or very clever. All manner of convoluted double bluffs ran through her mind until she felt not just apprehensive but dizzy!
The rain had begun to fall in earnest. In moments the face turned up to him was wet, a perfect classic oval. The moisture glistening on her pale skin highlighted the freckles across the bridge of her small straight nose and the bluish smudges under her beautiful accusing eyes. She looked delicate, sexy and vulnerable.
The sharp, strong stab of something that came perilously close to tenderness was mitigated by an equally strong slug of more familiar lust that pierced him as his gaze fastened on her shirt, where the buttons were straining against her heaving breasts. The rain that was falling heavier now had drenched the fabric, and he could see the scalloped edge of her bra against her breasts.
She really did have an incredible body, he thought, aiming for objectivity as his appreciative gaze slid over her feminine silhouette. Not hourglass—although her waist was tiny, the flare of her hips was less extravagant and her firm high bottom was taut rather than full, making her long-legged frame athletic rather than overtly lush.
And very, very sexy.
His analysis fell way short of objective. He found her body as provocative as her confrontational attitude. The combination was... He struggled to find the right word. Stimulating was a reasonable approximation and one that a man who liked boundaries, who needed control, could live with.
It was ridiculous that he was allowing himself to be distracted by sex like some hormone-laden teenager, when there were much more important issues at stake. For a time over the weekend it had seemed as if the royal deal was dead in the water; it still might be if this went the wrong way.
‘We need to move on.’
‘Where?’
His expressive lips twisted in irritation. ‘Let’s consider the matter closed. I have made contact with the clinic and it is all settled. Your brother is being transferred tomorrow and there is no reason he should know who is footing the bill if that is the way you want it.’
Presented with this fait accompli, Mari shook her head in disbelief, the only response she felt capable of giving. The tension that had sprung up seemingly from nowhere hung heavy in the damp air, and breathing had become something that required conscious effort. It was, she thought guiltily, a sad commentary on her as a sister that she remained so vulnerable to the sexual charge that this man emanated. He didn’t even have to try... What would happen if he did try?
She pushed the question away, unwilling and unable to deal with the distraction or for that matter the answer it might produce.
The silence that built seemed to have a life of its own and a heartbeat that she could feel pulsing. Her fingers plucked fretfully at the knot of bright fabric at the base of her throat until she blurted with more force than she intended, ‘I don’t want you in our life!’
Well, that came from the heart, he thought, directing a slow, sardonic, mirthless smile her way. ‘You should have thought of that before you put yourself in mine.’
She shivered. It was a comment she felt in whole-hearted agreement with; she was living with the consequences of her own actions. The knowledge did not make it easier.
‘Why would you help my brother if you don’t think you’re responsible? You expect me to believe that you’re some sort of altruistic saint?’
His rebuttal was immediate. ‘My offer is not inspired by guilt.’ Not his guilt, but his tender-hearted sister was showing a tendency to beat herself up about things, and if her ex-boyfriend ended up in a wheelchair that situation would not improve. He would do everything in his power to make sure that didn’t happen.
Mari remained suspicious of this very expensively packaged gift horse. Though in the equine world, of course, he would be a thoroughbred, sleek and muscled— With a tiny shake of her head she closed down the thought. ‘So what do I have to do? What’s the catch?’
‘There is no catch, no strings. As I said, I have already spoken to the clinic and your brother will be transferred tomorrow once the paperwork is done. My lawyer will send you the details of an account I have set up in your name for the purpose. I think the funds are adequate, but if there is not enough you simply have to let him know. As I said, it is up to you what you tell your brother. If you’d prefer he remains in ignorance from where the money is coming that is no problem.’
‘I will know!’ Mari always paid her debts—how was she going to pay this one? Submerged by a massive wave of sheer helplessness, she lifted her face to the leaden sky, letting the rain wash over her face.
Seb dragged a hand through his drenched hair and gave a grunt of irritation; the rain was now drumming on the roof of the car.
‘This is ridiculous.’ He wrenched open the car passenger door and walked around to the driver’s side, yelling over to the slim figure who had made no effort to take advantage of the shelter, ‘Personally I’ve nothing against the wet-shirt look, but...’
She glanced down and let out a horrified gasp.
A moment after he had slammed the door she slid into the passenger seat and sat there staring straight ahead, her arms folded across her chest.
A grin split the severity of his lean features. ‘Very modest, but you see a hell of a lot more on a beach.’
She lowered her hands defiantly. ‘I’m not embarrassed,’ she lied. ‘I’m cold.’
He let his eyes drop. ‘I’d noticed.’
Longing to slap the lopsided grin off his too-handsome face, she balled her hands into fists. ‘Smutty schoolboy innuendo. I’d sort of expected something a bit more...’
The grin faded and it was replaced by something far more dangerous, far more... She felt her insides quiver helplessly in response to that nameless thing.
‘Is that a request?’ he asked smokily.
On the brink of succumbing to the heat of his hypnotic stare, her blue eyes flew wide open. It was definitely time to change the subject or at least remember what it was!
‘No, not...’ Definitely not.
‘So no work today?’ he asked casually.
Suspicious of his sudden question, she shook her head. ‘No.’
‘One of those consequences you didn’t consider?’
Mari maintained a tight-lipped silence.
‘I can’t imagine that exclusive school you work for liking the idea of its employees’ sex scandals being made public.’
Bristling with suspicion, she turned in her seat. ‘How do you know what I do or where I work? Have you had my phone bugged or something?’ It was as likely as any of the other wild, nausea-inducing possibilities whirling through her head.
‘That would be illegal.’
She gave a scornful snort. ‘And you have never broken a rule.’ Rules and a thousand hearts, she thought, glad that she was not the sort of woman who had ever had a thing for bad boys.
‘I have my resources.’
Seb’s resource in this instance had been the family lawyer who had witnessed firsthand the wedding drama. It had been the one call that Seb had taken on Saturday night, assuming, wrongly as it happened, that it concerned the possible legal ramifications of the incident.
‘I had no idea you even knew Miss Jones, Sebastian. Let alone—!’
The lawyer whose services he had inherited when his grandfather died had sounded as unhappy as Seb had ever heard him, a situation brought about not by any sense of indignation for his client but the disruption to his granddaughter’s schooling.
‘You do know she’s the first teacher that has understood Gwennie? The child actually wants to go to school and you know what that place is like—they justify their ridiculous fees by claiming they provide a wholesome learning environment, and they have a very good reputation. Hypocrisy, I know, but from a business standpoint they can’t afford a sniff of anything...sexual, not with the sort of parent the place attracts. The best the poor girl can hope for is suspension after this gets out.’
Listening to the woman who had lied through her teeth, sabotaged his marriage, dragged his reputation into the gutter and in the process endangered the deal he had worked so hard to pull off being spoken of as a victim, described as poor, had been as hard for Seb to swallow as visualising the red-headed virago as an empathic teacher.
Would she be as empathic in the bedroom?
‘Your resources?’ His cryptic comment sent a shiver through her. ‘Well, that sounds suitably sinister.’
She gave a laugh, which missed ‘bring it on, I don’t care’ by several thousand miles. Nonetheless, he picked up on it.
‘But you’re not about to be intimidated.’ Seb felt a fresh stab of reluctant admiration; whatever else she was this woman was not gutless. Right or wrong—actually wrong—she had gone out on a very precarious limb to fight for her brother, and, having met the guy again, he doubted that he appreciated how lucky he was to have someone like her in his corner.
If the situation had been reversed would Mark Jones have put himself on the line for his sister? Seb doubted it. Nothing he had seen had given him any reason to alter his initial assessment of Mari’s twin.
Mari ignored the comment.
‘I have spoken to the head, and he was very understanding,’ she retorted, putting a positive slant on a situation that when she allowed herself to think about it looked very black indeed.
‘But you’re not in work today? He was not that understanding?’
She slung him a look of seething dislike. ‘All right, you were right. My life is a mess, people who I’ve never met are discussing surgery I never had and it’s my own fault.’ Which of course made it worse. ‘I achieved nothing and now I’m likely to lose my job, too.’
She closed her eyes, feeling herself falling into the relentless cycle of self-recriminating circles that she had spent the entire weekend trying to escape.
‘Self-pity doesn’t suit you.’
She opened her eyes with an outraged snap and snarled, ‘Go to hell!’ Then she closed them again.
Her moment of madness still seemed unreal; when she thought of it now it felt like some sort of out-of-body experience.
It made no sense. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been painfully aware of the dangers of reacting in the heat of the moment—two foster families had felt unable to cope with the twins after she had reacted.
It was a lesson Mari had learned well. In the short term there was immense satisfaction in making the boy who stole your brother’s lunch money cry and walloping the bully who shut a puppy in a telephone kiosk—the black eye had been so worth it—but there were consequences.
There always were, which was why she no longer reacted before she thought—she considered consequences to the point where Mark frequently complained about her lack of spontaneity. But on Saturday she’d not just been spontaneous, she’d been... She shuddered and shook her head, bringing her chin up. She’d done the crime so now it was about taking the punishment—whatever that might be...
‘I know of a job vacancy that might suit you.’
She opened her eyes and turned her head, still nestled on the leather headrest, to face him, not bothering to hide her suspicion. ‘You suddenly became Santa Claus?’
‘No, I suddenly became in need of a wife.’
She struggled to match his flippancy. ‘Is that a proposal?’
‘Yes.’
The colour flared hot and then faded pale in her cheeks as she sat bolt upright and reached for the door handle. ‘I’m assuming this is some sort of joke. Word to the wise—don’t give up your day job. Stand-up is not your thing.’
‘What I am suggesting is a business arrangement.’ Only his long fingers silently drumming on the steering wheel suggested he was not as relaxed as he appeared.
Mari’s fingers tightened on the handle. ‘Hate is not a good basis for a business arrangement.’
‘I’ve factored that in,’ he retorted with unimpaired cool. ‘In public we would act the happy, loved-up couple.’
A hissing sound left her lips. ‘Marriage. You’re actually talking about marriage—it’s not a sick joke?’ She scanned his face. ‘What planet do you live on?’
‘In private you can carry on hating me and to a large extent living your own life. Eighteen months, we decided, would suffice before we make our irreconcilable differences public—’
‘We...?’ Listening now simply because she couldn’t believe what he was saying, not because she was for one second buying into his crazy suggestion, she pulled the door she had opened closed with a loud, angry bang that shook the car. ‘What is this—proposal by committee?’
Every little girl’s dream, Mari thought, repressing a sudden strong impulse to laugh, or was that cry?
‘I’ve had my legal people draw up a contract. It’s ready for your lawyer to look at.’
He spoke as if everyone had a legal team waiting at the end of the phone. ‘I don’t have a lawyer. You’d be surprised by how many people in the real world don’t.’
He ignored her sarcasm. ‘I suggest you get one before you sign up for this.’
Mari took a deep breath. She had humoured him too long. ‘I’m not going to sign up for this—you’re mad,’ she said with total conviction. ‘Why the hell would you want to get married? Assuming that you haven’t decided I’m your soulmate.’
‘This is about damage limitation, not soulmates,’ he cut back, ignoring her sarcasm. ‘I have spent the weekend trying to repair the damage your stunt inflicted on a crucial business deal.’
His comment stirred a memory. ‘The royal thing?’
He tipped his head in acknowledgement. ‘Good, you know about it, so I don’t have to explain that the royal family are very nervous about scandal, especially the sexual kind that involves men getting women pregnant and deserting them.’
‘So you told them you didn’t know me.’
An expression she could not quite read flickered across his face as he looked at her. ‘Strangely, you know, I feel I do, but no, the truth would not have worked. You were way too convincing, angel. I almost believed you myself except I think I might have remembered sleeping with you. No, this was a situation that required some creativity.’
‘Lies, you mean. Like the one when you said there were no strings to you paying for Mark’s treatment!’
‘No, I meant that if you refuse my proposal your brother’s treatment will still be funded. The two are not co-dependent.’
‘So why would I say yes without blackmail?’
‘Because you don’t want to be in my debt...’ His narrow-eyed scrutiny moved across her face. ‘The idea of that kills you, doesn’t it?’ This thing hung on her stiff-necked pride and his ability to keep his lust in check. This needed to stay business and he needed to retain control.
‘Yes!’ she flung back, hating him so much she could taste it.
‘Excellent... In that case you should probably know about us.’
‘About...?’
‘I gave us a history. We had a short passionate relationship, but there was a lovers’ falling-out—we can’t even remember what the fight was about now. We met up again not long ago by accident, we shared a night of passion, but we were both with other people by then and we went our separate ways. I had no idea you were pregnant until you appeared. Seeing you again has made me realise that you are the love of my life.’
It was all delivered in the sort of deadpan tone that made a computerised voice sound animated. Mari looked at him, fascinated. ‘And they swallowed that?’
‘I lack your dramatic talent,’ he admitted drily. ‘There was no soul baring involved. The reality is they have as much time and money invested in this deal as I do and they are less concerned about me doing the right thing than me being seen to do the right thing.’
‘They sound as shallow as you.’
‘It’s called realism. You ought to try it some time.’
‘I can see a massive flaw in your plan—the baby—so do you expect me to walk around with a pillow shoved down my jumper, too?’
‘That won’t be necessary. We will be away on an extended honeymoon when you tragically lose the baby. It’s not something we want to talk about and people will respect that.’
‘You’ve thought of everything.’
‘If not, I’m pretty good at thinking on my feet.’
‘And modest with it,’ she snapped back waspishly.
‘So what do you say, Mari Jones? Eighteen months of your life, then afterwards slate clean and a financial settlement to ease your way back into your life? It’s negotiable but the figure I suggest is—’
‘No!’
He watched as she chewed her plump lip, an abstracted expression on her face, before she settled back in her seat with a little sigh followed by a decisive nod as she looked at him.
‘Make it exactly what Mark’s treatment costs and you have a deal.’ She gave him a hard look.
‘That would amount to you throwing away several million pounds.’
‘I don’t care about the money.’
‘I assumed you would go away and think about it.’
She gave a slightly wild-sounding laugh. ‘Thinking is the last thing I want to do! The only thing is...when you said this was business you wouldn’t expect me to—’
‘I have never had to pay for sex.’
His eyes trained on the outline of her breasts where the nipples left an erotic imprint against the wet fabric of her shirt. Unable to fight the impulse, he reached across and pushed aside a strand of rain-darkened hair that clung to her cheek.
The touch of his fingers on her skin made Mari tense; slowly she turned her head to look at him. The light contact felt like a brand at every point of contact and her skin tingled and burned.
‘Right, I’ll marry you but I won’t sleep with you.’
A slow smile of satisfaction spread across his hawkish features. ‘In my experience it’s always a good idea to keep business and pleasure separate, but let’s not include it in the vows.’
Mari flinched. Hearing him say vows made it seem more real. She felt as if she were living a recurrent childish nightmare of hers—she had stepped on a carousel that wouldn’t stop and let her off, it just carried on going round and round while she started screaming.
His smile died as he said softly, ‘The next time maybe...?’
She gave a bemused frown and shook her head, parroting in a flat voice, ‘Next time?’
‘Don’t all girls dream of the wedding dress?’
‘Not the groom?’
‘Let’s hope you find a man who hasn’t been put off the white-wedding thing by having been previously publicly humiliated by a wedding crasher. Oh, and while we are on the subject it’s not the best idea to start looking for Mr. Right or even a little light entertainment until after we have split up.’
Struggling to hide her embarrassment behind an air of amused indifference, she shrugged and asked, ‘Is that in the small print?’
He did not smile back, and there was a definite warning in his voice as he told her, ‘No, that part is in the big print. If it’s any comfort, you won’t be the only one condemned to eighteen months of celibacy.’
What was eighteen months when you’d already done twenty-four years? she thought, swallowing the bubble of hysteria that rose in her throat.
‘Still, I suppose eighteen months of abstinence is preferable to a lifetime of regret.’
She lost the battle to allow his cynicism go unchallenged. ‘I suppose the trick is to find the right person.’
He gave an eloquent sneer of contempt. ‘The trick is to enjoy the party but be realistic.’
His attitude continued to get under Mari’s skin. ‘So if you don’t believe people fall in love forever, why were you getting married?’
A muscle throbbed in his lean cheek as he gave a strange twisted smile. ‘Did I say I didn’t think people fall in love forever? My parents’ passion for one another is as strong today, I would think, as the day they met.’ And just as blindly selfish.
The idea of following their example had been the perfect incentive when it came to keeping his own passions under control.
She was bewildered by the aura of anger he was projecting. It had an almost physical presence in the enclosed space.
‘Well, that’s marvellous.’ She looked at him, struggling to read his expression. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘My parents’ love has not stopped them having affairs, but they always come back to one another. However the divorces were never amicable and the marriages always headline-making lavish.’
Her eyes widened. ‘How many times?’
‘Married three times, divorced twice...so far.’
‘That must have been hard growing up.’
The tentative sympathy was met with a hard look. ‘Put your empathy away, Mari. I do not need it. My grandfather brought me over from the Argentine to England when I was eight, up from that point he raised me, and then when Fleur came along he adopted her.’
‘Do you spend much time in Argentina?’
He shook his head. ‘Not now. After the death of her husband my grandmother moved back to her homeland, Spain. I spend some time there.’ He handed her a card. ‘My private number—ring me if you have any questions. So where shall I take you?’
‘I came in my own car,’ she said faintly. ‘So what happens...now?’
‘We get married. It’s not complicated.’
Mari swallowed. ‘When?’
‘I’ll be in touch.’
