Читать книгу Out of Hours...Her Ruthless Boss - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 14

SUNLIGHT was slanting in wide beams on the floor when Lizzie awoke. She lay still for a moment, listening to the gentle whoosh of the sea only metres from their bedroom, the call of a macaw and the rustle of the palms in the breeze.

She glanced over at Cormac and tensed, expecting to see him awake and gazing at her with that sardonic knowledge in those glinting hazel eyes.

Instead she found him asleep, and she shifted carefully on her side so she could study him.

He was a beautiful man. In sleep, his face was softened, relaxed, his thick lashes sweeping his cheeks, his mouth, usually pulled into a frown or a scowl, now softened into a half smile. His hair was mussed like a boy’s. He had the beginnings of a cowlick, and it made her smile.

What had Cormac been like as a boy? She pictured him in a private-school uniform, prissy and pampered. It was hard to imagine. Perhaps his parents had sent him away to boarding school. That innate arrogance, the expectation of obedience came, she thought, from money. Money and power.

Her gaze slid downward. His chest was bare, pure sculpted muscle tapering to slim hips and powerful thighs, hidden only by a thin sheet.

He wore boxers, but she could still see evidence of his manhood and it ignited a traitorous heat inside her, just by looking.

What about touching…

She lifted a hand, stopped. She’d been about to touch his chest…to caress him.

Had she no shame? No self-control?

Then his eyes opened.

Suddenly Lizzie was aware of how close she was, her face inches from his, her hand poised above his chest. She dropped it back on to the sheet.

Cormac watched her, his eyes the colour of moss, clouded with sleep. Then the sleep cleared and was replaced with awareness.

Attraction.

They stared at each other, neither speaking, and Lizzie was conscious of how her body responded to just that look, her blood heating as if he’d stroked her with his hands instead of with his eyes.

Her hair fell forward, brushing against his bare chest, and Lizzie heard his breath hitch.

Still, neither of them spoke, neither of them moved.

She felt trapped by his gaze—trapped, tortured, tempted.

In a weekend of utter falseness, this felt amazingly real.

A bird called raucously outside and the shutter banged in the breeze.

The moment was broken. Lizzie saw it in the coolness that stole into his eyes, the knowing smile curving that mobile mouth.

‘Had a good look?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Lizzie said.

‘Change your mind?’

‘No.’ She gave a knowing smile of her own. ‘You snore.’

He chuckled disbelievingly and shook his head. ‘No one’s told me that before.’

‘I didn’t think your women stayed the night,’ Lizzie threw back, and he stilled.

‘No, they don’t.’ He paused thoughtfully, although something—not sleep—clouded his eyes once more. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever shared a bed with another person for the whole night before.’

‘Me, neither,’ Lizzie admitted, and he chuckled.

‘That I believe, my little virgin.’

She scooted off the bed and busied herself pulling clothes from the cupboard. ‘What are we doing today?’

‘Jan and Hilda are taking us over to the building site. We’ll talk shop while you ladies gossip, and then we’ll all head to the beach for an afternoon of sun, sand and surf. Tomorrow Jan wants to see our formal presentations.’

‘I really am just here as arm candy,’ Lizzie said with a shake of her head. ‘Whatever anyone says about family values.’

‘Delicious arm candy, at that,’ Cormac said. Somehow he’d sneaked up behind her while she’d been selecting her clothes and now he murmured in her ear, ‘If only I could have a taste.’

‘Don’t,’ she snapped, and he laughed.

‘You’re so easy to rile, Chandler. It almost takes the fun away.’

She turned around, one eyebrow raised. ‘Almost?’

He grinned, suddenly looking boyish and uncomplicated. If only. ‘Almost, but not quite.’

Lizzie grabbed the rest of her clothes and headed into the bathroom. She didn’t like Cormac when he was charming. Didn’t trust him. At his most enticing, he was also the most dangerous.

No, Lizzie realised, she did like him at his most charming—or even just a bit charming—and that was the problem. It would be so easy to succumb to temptation. To desire.

She climbed into the shower, let the hot water stream over her and imagined what that would be like. Feel like.

What would Cormac be like as a lover? Would he be commanding, authoritative, taking control with skilled, knowing hands? Or would he be tender, gentle, awakening her responses with a supreme confidence that didn’t need him to be in control?

Lizzie shook her head, suppressed a shudder. She had no business wondering about Cormac, what he was like as a lover, who he really was. Not if she wanted to keep herself—body and soul—safe.

Yet she was curious. Curious about sex, curious about Cormac. Curious about Cormac as a lover…and as a man. What had made him the way he was? What would change him?

‘The trouble with you,’ she told her reflection in the mirror as she towelled herself dry, ‘is that you’ve had no one to care about since Dani left. You’re just lonely and you want someone to fix.’

The realisation sobered her. Saddened her, too. For the last ten years she’d given her life to her younger sister, had poured her emotions and her soul into Dani’s well-being. She knew it was what her parents would have wanted, and she’d been happy to do it.

But now Dani—carefree, laughing Dani—was gone, happily tucked away at university, and at twenty-eight Lizzie was left wondering what to do with the rest of her life.

Whatever happened, the rest of her life, her personal life, would have nothing to do with Cormac, she told herself sternly. So her mind and heart and treacherous body had all better remember that.

She dressed quickly in white capris and a pale pink blouse—sleeveless, cool and elegantly simple. Since they’d be outside for most of the day, she caught her hair up in a loose bun, wisps curling around her face.

Back in the bedroom, she saw that Cormac had changed into khaki trousers and a dark green shirt that matched his eyes, deepening them to the colour of the jungle.

‘Don’t forget your swimming costume,’ he said, and Lizzie mentally cringed at the thought of the jade bikini the boutique assistant had chosen for her—two tiny scraps of shiny material and a bit of string. Suddenly the thought of Cormac—never mind anyone else—seeing her in it made her feel horribly exposed and vulnerable.

Reluctantly, she fished the costume out of her suitcase and packed it in a canvas bag with some sun-cream and a hat.

Outside the villa, two Jeeps had been brought around the drive to take them all to the building site. Hilda and Jan were in the first one, and Lizzie saw Geoffrey and Lara snag the back seats of their hosts’ Jeep, no doubt in an attempt to ingratiate themselves with the Hassells.

Dan offered to drive the second Jeep, as he was familiar with driving on the right-hand side of the road, and Cormac graciously agreed.

Lizzie managed a smile as he slid into the backseat next to her, his arm going round her shoulders in an easy, thoughtless manner that she knew had to be cunningly calculated.

She wanted it to be real. The realisation hurt. She’d known this weekend would be dangerous. Cormac would be dangerous.

She hadn’t realised she would be dangerous. Her body, her heart. Her mind, her soul. Unbending, unfurling. Wanting. More.

Wanting what she’d never had.

‘Careful, Chandler,’ Cormac murmured in her ear, his breath feathering her cheek. ‘You’re not looking very happy with me right now.’

Wendy glanced back at them, smiling, and Lizzie forced herself to smile back and pat Cormac’s thigh in a perfunctory way.

Cormac trapped her hand with his own and kept it there, splayed on his thigh, too high on his leg for her comfort. She averted her head, unable to stomach the indecent intimacy.

Dan drove the Jeep out of the villa’s landscaped grounds, following Jan along a paved track that cut through the dense jungle. Lizzie could hear the chattering of monkeys and macaws even over the sound of the engine.

After a quarter of an hour, they broke through the dense foliage and came to a rocky outcrop high over the water. Lizzie took in an awed breath, for the sight of the Caribbean shimmering with sunlight to the horizon was still stunning to her.

Cormac heard the little indrawn breath and slanted her a knowing smile. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ he said softly, and for once Lizzie felt he wasn’t mocking her.

He even released her fingers and she dropped her hand into her own lap, feeling strangely, stupidly bereft.

They parked the Jeeps where the paved track ended in a pile of dirt and Jan led the party across the rocks to a flattened area that had already been set up with a table sheltered from the blazing sun by a tent.

Lizzie could feel Cormac’s tension, his energy and excitement as the men sat down to discuss blueprints, dreams and designs.

Hilda led the women down a path through the rocks to a strip of white sandy beach below, and Lizzie saw that a separate vehicle had brought all the amenities for a relaxed day at the beach.

Spread out among folding chairs and towels, sheltered by beach umbrellas, Lizzie tried to relax and enjoy the sun and sand. She felt as if she were drawn as tight as a bow string, every sense and nerve on alert.

‘They won’t be long,’ Hilda said with a smile. ‘Jan has already seen all the blueprints, you know. This weekend was simply a way of meeting the men behind the designs. That’s what is important to us.’

And who was the man behind the design? Lizzie wondered. What front would he present to Jan? She’d no doubt he had something worked out, a façade to maintain. Had he ever shown who he really was to anyone? Had he ever been that vulnerable?

The idea was laughable.

Lizzie glanced around. Lara had already stretched out on a towel, glistening with suntan oil, in a bikini that made Lizzie’s own skimpy one look modest in comparison.

In contrast, Wendy was sitting on a folding chair, one hand on her bump, looking hot and uncomfortable.

Lizzie smiled at her. ‘Can I fetch you a drink?’

Wendy smiled gratefully. ‘Water would be great.’

Lizzie found a bottle of water in one of the coolers and handed it to Wendy. ‘A bit hot, isn’t it,’ she said sympathetically, and Wendy nodded.

‘Yes. Dan didn’t want me to come, as I’m only two months from my due date, but I insisted. This commission is so important to him. He’s been struggling in a large firm, and this could really be his chance to break out.’ She bit her lip. ‘Of course, I’m sure it’s important to Cormac, too…and to Geoffrey…’

‘I’m sure every one of our husbands could design an amazing resort,’ Lizzie said a bit lamely, for she was conscious of another fresh pang of guilt.

If Cormac hadn’t insisted on his own way—and finding his own wife—men like Dan White, good, steady, honest men, would have a better chance at gaining such a prestigious commission.

If she hadn’t agreed…

She was as much to blame as Cormac. No matter what he’d threatened her with, she could have said something. Done something.

She’d simply wanted an adventure too much.

And now she’d had enough, even as she wanted more. There was a part of her that longed to run back to safety, to the shelter of her former life. And another part—a treacherous, tempting part—wanted this. A life. Cormac.

She smiled again at Wendy and returned to her seat, trying to involve herself in Hilda’s cheerful conversation about the resort and its plans.

The words washed over her, soothing sounds, no more than white noise. Her mind buzzed with questions. Questions about herself, about what she wanted.

Cormac.

What was she thinking? What did she want?

Change your mind?

No.

Finally, the men left the rocky outcrop. Lizzie watched Cormac walk over to her, smiling easily although his eyes looked blank, preoccupied.

‘How was it?’ she asked in a murmur. She glanced at Geoffrey, who was looking sulky, and Dan, who greeted Wendy with more concern than he’d ever shown about winning the commission.

‘Fine.’ Cormac raked a hand through his hair. ‘Jan likes my ideas, but Stears keeps making remarks and I can tell they’re starting to hit home.’

‘He knows, doesn’t he?’ Lizzie said, fear plunging icily in her middle.

‘Of course he knows. He can’t prove anything, though.’ His eyes rested on Lizzie for a moment and she felt their warmth, a radiant heat that matched the sun.

They both burned.

‘We’ll just have to be more convincing,’ he said lazily. He pulled her towards him and she was too surprised to resist as he gave her a quick kiss. She knew it was calculated, a staged gesture, but it didn’t feel like it.

For one blazing moment she was conscious only of his lips on hers, hard and warm. He pulled away and there was no mocking laughter in his eyes, no sardonic knowledge. ‘Why don’t you get your swimming costume on?’ he suggested, and Lizzie opened her mouth to protest.

‘We’ll go snorkelling,’ Cormac continued. ‘The fish are amazing here.’

A treacherous thrill shot through her. She wanted to spend time with Cormac, she realised. She wanted to have fun. ‘I’m not a strong swimmer,’ she began, and he smiled, laced her fingers with his and drew her in for another kiss.

‘I’ll keep you safe.’

‘Cormac…’ Lizzie shook her head. She knew this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real. He was just acting. Yet, she realised faintly, everyone was chatting or changing. No one was watching them. There was no audience.

There was just them.

Why was he doing it, then?

‘All right,’ she said, and gave him a quick, uncertain smile before she fetched her swimming costume and ducked into one of the tents set up for the purpose of changing.

She emerged a few minutes later, resisting the urge to cover herself as Cormac looked across at her, his eyes sweeping over, then resting on her body, heat and awareness flaring in their depths.

She joined the others, wrapping a towel around her waist as a sarong. She needed some coverage, some armour.

It did little good, however, for she was as aware of Cormac as he was of her. He’d taken off his shirt and wore a pair of navy blue swimming shorts, and even though she’d seen as much of his body before, she couldn’t quite keep her eyes off him, taking in the hard contours of his chest, the tanned forearms resting on tapered hips, the long, powerful legs.

Every inch of him brown, beautiful, perfect.

Jan was advising everyone on the best areas to dive and snorkel, a pile of masks and flippers near his feet.

‘Careful over by the rocks,’ he warned, ‘there’s a bit of an undertow. Nothing too dangerous, but you should be cautious, especially if you’re not a strong swimmer.’

First, however, they ate. Staff had set up a delicious repast on a folding table and everyone helped themselves to fresh conch salad, warm bread and sliced mango and guava.

The tropical tastes were new and tangy on her tongue and Lizzie dug in with gusto, the sun warm on her shoulders, the breeze caressing her face.

She saw Cormac watching her, a strange, speculative look on his face, and she wondered what he was thinking…feeling.

A few days ago she wouldn’t have cared. She would have said Cormac Douglas didn’t feel much of anything.

Now she wondered. What?

Lizzie turned back to her plate of food.

‘Care to snorkel, Elizabeth?’ Geoffrey had moved next to her when she wasn’t looking and now stood above where she was seated, his cynical gaze resting on her cleavage. ‘Lara’s not interested so perhaps I could show you some of the marine sights.’

The last thing Lizzie wanted to do was spend any time alone, anywhere, with Geoffrey, so she felt only relief when Cormac walked over and replied smoothly, ‘Actually, Lizzie and I are planning to snorkel together. That quality time, you know, is so important to couples.’

Lizzie nearly choked on a disbelieving laugh. Cormac talking about couples and quality time was too ludicrous to be believed.

And, by the looks of it, Geoffrey didn’t believe it, for his cynical smile widened and he raised his eyebrows.

‘Indeed.’

Cormac laced his fingers with Lizzie’s. ‘Tend to your own wife, Stears,’ he said pleasantly, and drew Lizzie towards the beach.

‘You shouldn’t antagonise him,’ Lizzie said in a low voice.

‘I wasn’t.’ Cormac sounded supremely unconcerned and, Lizzie thought, rather arrogantly so. Didn’t he realise what a danger—a threat—Geoffrey was?

‘Geoffrey already suspects,’ she said in a furious whisper. ‘If he mentions something to Jan, we could both—’

‘Jan will never listen to the likes of him,’ Cormac said dismissively. He bent down to sort through the pile of snorkelling gear. ‘The problem with Geoffrey is he thinks he can get what he wants by sneering and looking down his nose at everyone. I’ve seen it before. He’s lost more than one commission to me, you know.’

‘Is that why he’s out for your blood?’ Lizzie asked with a touch of acid, ‘or is it because you’ve slept with his wife?’

Cormac only chuckled. ‘Jealous, Chandler?’

‘Not on your life,’ she snapped, too quickly.

Cormac shrugged. ‘I’m not worried about Stears, at any rate. He’s too stupid to realise how you play someone like Hassell.’ He stood up, a mask dangling from his fingers. ‘Here, this should do nicely for you.’

Lizzie stared at him, suddenly feeling icy cold despite the blazing sun on her body. How you play someone like Hassell. The words echoed in her mind, reminding her that, whatever she thought—believed, hoped—Cormac didn’t care about anyone. He played people…was playing her.

Don’t ever forget it.

She shook her head. ‘Is everyone just a pawn to be used to you?’

He cocked his head, his eyes vivid and alert, yet with a certain hardness to his face, his mouth. ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

Lizzie was compelled to admit, ‘I don’t know. I was beginning to think…to wonder…’

He stared at her and Lizzie saw irritation flicker in his eyes. He thrust the mask at her. ‘Try this on.’ He turned away to sort through the rest of the gear and Lizzie was left to slip the mask on—just one more layer hiding her from the rest of the party…and the man before her.

A few minutes later they stood at the edge of the sea, Lizzie feeling both absurd and nervous in her snorkelling gear.

‘I’m not much of a swimmer,’ she reminded Cormac, nudging the gentle waves dubiously with one flippered foot.

‘Then we’ll just stick close by the shore.’ He reached a hand out, tugging on her fingers as a smile tugged on his mouth—and Lizzie’s heartstrings. ‘Come on, Chandler. I promised I’ll keep you safe.’

She bristled even as she moved forward, reluctantly and inexorably pulled towards him.

‘Why should I trust you?’ she muttered, and his deepening smile went right through her soul.

‘Because you can.’

It wasn’t a reason. It wasn’t even close to a reason, considering how he’d lied, cheated and manipulated his way this far.

Yet somehow it was enough.

The sea water was as warm as a bath as Cormac led her in, the waves lapping at her legs, the sand soft without being squishy between her toes. They’d only gone a few feet, the water just at Lizzie’s waist, when he said, ‘Look down.’

Lizzie did…and gasped. A rainbow coloured fish darted between her feet. Another silver fish, banded with black, slipped between her and Cormac. Lizzie laughed aloud in sheer amazement.

‘I’ve never seen anything like…’ she began, and Cormac tugged on her hands once more.

‘Come with me.’

And Lizzie came, slipping into the water, following Cormac’s lithe, powerful body as he sliced through the sea, his hand still firm on hers, keeping her safe just as he’d promised.

It took Lizzie a moment to accustom herself to keeping her face in the water, breathing through the snorkelling tube, but once she was she found herself transfixed by the underwater world opening below her and the man who pointed out each colourful fish, swimming confidently next to her, never letting her go.

She didn’t want him to. She wanted this moment to last for ever—the easy intimacy, the sun warm on her back, its light dancing on the surface of the sea, a dazzling rainbow of blues and greens.

She wanted it to last for ever, even as she wanted more.

Why not? a voice whispered in her mind, her heart. A treacherous, tempting little voice. Why not? You’ve had so little love in your life, so little affection. Maybe it wouldn’t be love with Cormac, maybe it wouldn’t even be close, but it would be something.

Something she’d never had.

Something she wanted.

They swam all the way down the reef, amazed at the fish, anemones and other small sea creatures, taking turns to point at each new discovery.

Finally they stopped waist-deep at a rocky outcrop out of view of the beach and the others. ‘We should take a break,’ Cormac said, slipping his mask and tube down around his neck. ‘We’ve been at it for over an hour. You’ll get tired out if you’re not used to swimming.’

Lizzie slipped her own mask down. ‘It’s been amazing. I’ve never seen anything like this before.’ She glanced at him, water glistening on his bare chest, tiny droplets clinging to his closely cropped hair, even his eyelashes. His eyes were bright in his tanned face.

‘I suppose you’re used to places like this,’ she said.

He quirked one eyebrow. ‘What makes you think that?’

She shrugged. ‘The tabloids, I suppose. They’re always going on about your jet-setting lifestyle.’

‘Ah, I see.’

‘Where did you grow up?’ Lizzie asked impulsively. She wanted to know more about this man, more than the flickers and glimmers she’d glimpsed so far…or thought she’d glimpsed. She wanted to know about the man Cormac hid, the man underneath who was careful to leave no clues, no hints about who he really was, what he really thought. That man.

Cormac glanced at her for a moment, his expression thoughtful. ‘Edinburgh,’ he finally said.

‘You did?’ She was surprised.

‘Yes, actually…’ He paused. ‘I lived in the house on Cowgate that’s now my office. For a while.’ He gave a little shrug and Lizzie watched something dark and fathomless flicker across his face like a shadow. A memory.

‘But…’ She trailed off. Twenty or thirty years ago, Cowgate had been a depressed section of Edinburgh, little more than a slum. Was that where Cormac had grown up? It was far from the life of luxury and privilege she’d always imagined.

A fish, as bright as a gold coin, darted between them. Lizzie laughed aloud. ‘It’s lovely!’

‘Yes, it is,’ Cormac agreed, but he was looking right at her and suddenly Lizzie was conscious of everything—the sun, as bright as a diamond in a brilliant blue sky, sparkling on the water, the water lapping gently against their nearly bare bodies and the closeness of Cormac, less than a foot away, water beading on a chest brown from the sun. How did he get so brown, Lizzie wondered hazily, living in Scotland?

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Cormac said with a little laugh, ‘unless you’re planning to do something about it.’

Lizzie realised she’d been gazing at him openly, hungrily, and she couldn’t help herself.

‘Like what?’ she challenged, but it came out in little more than a breathy whisper.

‘Like coming over and kissing me.’ He reached out and tangled his fingers in the wet strands of her hair. ‘I want you, Lizzie.’

‘I want you, too.’ She was dizzy, heady with the newfound power of her own desirability. Suddenly she realised what leverage she had, the control she could exert over Cormac.

It was herself.

Her body.

He wanted her…and it was about the only thing he wanted that was in her control to keep or give.

Or was it? she wondered as he pulled her closer and she didn’t even try to resist. Didn’t know how. Couldn’t even think of it.

Didn’t want to.

‘Then come here,’ he murmured, ‘and show me.’

In a trance of need, she moved towards him—it was so easy in the water—until her breasts, barely covered in the skimpy bikini, brushed his chest.

‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ he asked. He glanced down at her, amusement quirking his mouth, desire darkening his eyes. She heard his breath hitch and smiled.

‘You know I don’t,’ she said, and kissed him.

Perhaps she’d only meant to brush his lips, but Cormac wouldn’t let her get away with that. He pulled her to him, his hands lost in her hair, her body slick and wet against his. She slipped against him in the water until somehow she found her legs wrapped around his hips, his arousal pressing her in her most intimate place, a sensation she’d never felt…and she wanted more.

More. It was a flood of feeling, an overwhelming tide of need that scattered her senses and left her only aware of Cormac, his body, his mouth and hands and the need.

The incredible need. For him.

She pressed towards him and gasped as he responded. The water and their swimming costumes seemed very little barrier and something in her astonished response must have alerted Cormac for he pulled away with a muffled curse.

‘This isn’t…Come with me.’

Wordlessly Lizzie took his hand, followed him through the shallows, around the rocks, to a stretch of private, pristine beach.

In the distance Lizzie thought she heard a trill of feminine laughter, but it could have been the call of a bird.

Cormac kicked off his flippers, threw his mask to the ground, and numbly, hazily, Lizzie did the same.

The moment stretched between them endlessly, and yet it only lasted a second.

‘Come here.’

Obediently, she came, stood before him. If there had been a choice, she didn’t know when she’d made it. Perhaps there never had really been one at all.

He gave a smile of pure primal satisfaction before he took her in his arms and lowered his head to hers.