Читать книгу Irresistibly Exotic Men: Bed of Lies / Falling For Dr Dimitriou / Her Little Spanish Secret - Laura Iding, Anne Fraser - Страница 11

The landing was a gut-clenching, lip-biting affair, but she managed to make it through without completely losing it. A gray limousine—one of Surfers’ most common modes of transportation—was waiting for them as they disembarked.

At least it’d provide much-needed anonymity, space and distance from the roadblock in her life that was Luke De Rossi.

She settled in the soft leather seat, buckled up and prayed for the forty-minute drive to be over as quickly as possible.

“Drink?”

She glanced up and he nodded to the bar fridge laid into the dash. “Mineral water, juice, Coke …”

“Tequila?”

He didn’t bat an eye. “Sure.”

She smiled humorlessly. “Mineral water’s fine.”

She waited until he’d finished playing host, until he handed her the drink, poured himself a Scotch on the rocks then settled back.

She pointedly turned to the window and drew the icy glass across her cheek with a sigh.

First those cameras, the frenzied questions, everyone pushing and shoving. Then the scary, gut-wrenching flight that felt as if her stomach had been sucked out with a straw.

Yet she’d made it.

Triumph curved her lips in the tinted reflection. She’d done it. With Luke’s help, she’d taken that first step into the unknown and conquered some of her fears.

The victory lingered briefly, until the inevitable memories began to seep in. And slowly, she watched her mouth flatten and her eyes harden.

She’d been eighteen—just a kid. Too young to know better, too weak to hold on.

Frustration snaked its way under her skin, making everything achy, her breath like jagged pieces stabbing her throat on the way in. Those months after the crash had been mind-numbingly tough, her desperation for privacy tested by the public’s morbid fascination with every gory detail. On the very first anniversary she’d caved and given an interview, naively assuming the reporter would keep her personal details anonymous. In the ensuing press avalanche, she’d gone off the grid, working a dozen different cash-in-hand jobs, living in near squalor in Sydney’s far west before reinventing herself. All had been worth it to finally get through night college and earn her TAFE certificate in remedial massage.

She could’ve joined the other survivors in their class action suit but that would’ve involved too many questions, too much publicity. For so long the crash had been her first and last waking thought, consuming every hour, every day, every dream and horror-filled nightmare until she’d somehow managed to leave the past behind and focus on her future.

Stop. You can’t go back. Only forward.

Beth rubbed at her eye sockets until her face ached, until she managed to shove those memories away and her shoulders slowly relaxed.

When she softly exhaled, the window misted. She wiped it away. Now was not the time and place to lose it, not when she needed all her wits and strength to deal with the here and now.

Through the window’s reflection she glanced at Luke, but the melting ice in his drink had his rapt attention.

He handled millions, no, billions, on a daily basis, rubbed shoulders and dealt with clients who made ridiculous amounts of money. The sheer scale of the league she was now in blew her away.

“Do you still think I’m your uncle’s secret mistress?” she asked quietly, still staring out the window.

He paused, but when she turned to face him, he shook his head. “No.”

“Good.”

Another moment of silence passed as they studied each other like wary opponents unwilling to concede.

“I’m serious about my offer to buy you out,” he said suddenly. “I can make it worth your while. You can start over in a new place, something closer to Surfers—”

“Let me tell you something.” She shifted, crossed one leg over the other and gave him her full attention. “Imagine someone gives you a car—it’s old, it’s worn, there are a few bumps and scratches on it and a bit of rust. But still you can see the potential behind all that because up until now, all you’ve ever had were total lemons that weren’t even roadworthy. You spend years on improving that car, banging out the dings, replacing the tires, giving it a new paint job. You sweat and obsess because it gives you a purpose, transports you from your studies, from your crappy waitressing and cleaning jobs, and shows you the possibilities that come with a little hard work and determination. It becomes more than just a project—it becomes a part of who you are. And finally, when you’ve got it running perfectly and that sweet feeling of pride sings through your veins, a guy shows up and demands you turn it over to him. Yes, legally I know I’m just a tenant,” she added quickly just as he opened his mouth. “But, Luke, I put my heart and soul into that place when I had absolutely nothing else. Can you understand that?”

After an interminable silence, a faint ring permeated the air. Without a word he pulled out his phone. Beth sighed and went back to staring out the window.

“Connor. What’s up?” Luke said by way of greeting.

“I heard about the commotion on the 10:00 a.m. newsflash.”

Luke ground his teeth and muttered a curse. “Yeah, we lost them on the way to Brisbane airport.”

“Where are you now?”

“Surfers. Pacific Highway.”

“What? And who’s ‘we’?”

Luke glanced at Beth staring out the window then brought his best friend and boss up to speed.

“I see,” was all Connor said when he’d finished explaining. Luke cringed. He could just picture the dark, impassive expression on Connor’s face.

Luke clamped down on his jaw, grinding his teeth hard. Gino was his uncle. Everything he did reflected on Luke, which in turn reflected on Jackson and Blair. And because of that, good men and women had suffered the fallout. Like Connor Blair. The court case may be over, but the securities commission was still determined to put Jackson and Blair through an internal inquiry.

No wonder Connor was on edge.

“So what’s Gino’s connection to this woman—Beth Jones?” Connor finally said.

“No idea. I called Dylan.”

“The ex-con?”

“P.I. now. The guy owes me a favor.”

“You’re supposed to lay low. In case you missed it, that wasn’t a request.”

Luke ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “And I can kiss that promotion goodbye if I don’t get my name cleared.”

“You will. You made a statement and the majority of the Board is behind you. I’m working on the rest of them. Now it’s up to the commission next month.”

“But—”

“You’ve never second-guessed yourself before, Luke. Why now?” Luke remained silent until Connor broke it. “Your cousin still pissed at you?”

“Yep.”

“And this Beth Jones. She’s not a criminal?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“She an ax murderer? A hit man? A reporter?” He could barely keep the contempt from his voice.

“What—?”

“Do you have a natural disaster about to open the ground? A flood? A bushfire that will raze the house? Because these are the only things I’ll be looking for if I see your name in the papers.”

“Mate …”

“I don’t want to hear it. This latest news flash is the last straw. The company’s under an internal investigation and my soon-to-be vice president is accused of money laundering only because he shares blood with Gino Corelli. Unless your life’s in danger, you are going to wait this out.”

Luke thought of a dozen comebacks, none of them adequate. “How long?” he finally said.

“Take the rest of the month. I’ll give you a call when you need to come in for the hearing.”

He could hear a faint sound in the background, which meant Connor had grabbed a pen and was tapping the end on the desk. Luke could just imagine the accompanying facial expression—a mixture of weariness and caution.

“Okay,” Luke conceded.

“Oh, and Luke?” Connor said suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“Get a massage. Otherwise you’ll get a headache.”

Luke cut the call then settled back in the seat. Beth was on her phone, pressing buttons. “I missed a called from the agent and she texted me,” she said. “We can call her back in an hour.” She returned the phone to her pocket. “A bit pointless now, though.” She sighed and changed the subject. “So you’re up for a promotion.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the job?”

“Vice president of international investments.” He tapped the phone against his knee, thoughts churning.

“Think you’ll get it?”

“Right now, I have no idea.”

Silence fell. Then, “This is not good, is it?” she asked softly.

Luke finally glanced over and their gazes met.

There it was again, that odd vulnerability. It jarred deep inside, stirring long-buried feelings that set his whole body on alert even as he tried to quash it. He’d given up on that dumb compulsion years ago. But now, looking into Beth’s face with those wide green eyes and that guarded expression, he felt the familiar overwhelming urge to protect her from all the world’s wrongdoings.

She doesn’t need you to look after her. You need her out so you can sell that house and give Rosa the much-needed money. Then things will go back to normal.

“Well,” he said slowly, “it’s not all bad.”

“And what’s your definition of ‘bad’?”

“No one got hurt and we have some answers.” He settled back in the seat and laced his fingers behind his neck. “On a scale of one to ten it’d rank at about seven.”

“Including the press ambush?”

He arched one dark brow. “Now you see why I wanted to fly solo? The press would eat you alive.”

Beth swallowed. How little he knew. And why was he picking her apart with that look? She needed the Luke of last night—arrogant and argumentative—so she had a legitimate reason for disliking him.

For one heartbeat Beth wondered what it’d be like to have all that long-lashed, dark-eyed charm smiling only for her.

She stared at his mouth. A delicious-looking mouth with a full bottom lip. A totally kissable mouth that a woman with half a brain would fantasize about.

Don’t even think about it. Luke was definitely a “love ‘em and leave ‘em” guy. Unpredictable, career-devoted and an attention magnet. Attention she had spent years avoiding. Getting involved with him—however superb the encounter promised to be—was the last thing she needed.

She looked away even as her skin began to tingle annoyingly. “What’s our next move?”

“So you’re determined to stay?”

“I still have a lease, in case you’ve forgotten. Legally—”

“Look, if you were in any position to call a lawyer you would’ve done it hours ago. Right? So if you’re not moving out and won’t consider my offer, it leaves with me with only one option. I’m moving in.”

Her mouth gaped before she snapped it shut. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking. I’ve got reporters camped out at my apartment, so I can’t go back without leading them to the house. And—” He stopped abruptly, but she already knew what he’d been about to say.

I still don’t trust you.

Well, fine. She didn’t trust him, either.

“Take it or leave it, Beth. Do we have a deal?”

As the moment stretched in the cool silence, Luke tried to ignore that wide-eyed stare, the frustration and indignation playing out so clearly on her face. Tried, but somewhere inside, something tugged annoyingly on his conscience.

Finally, she said, “Why are you doing this? There’s nothing more to find out and the house will be yours in three months.”

“Because I’m involved.”

“You want to make sure your name stays out of the papers.”

“Yes. And because, a long time ago, there was no one there to help me or my family.” He deliberately avoided those accusing eyes, lingering instead on her mouth.

Damn. Bad move.

“You were told the owners were overseas, right? So why would they lie to you? Plus, there’s the mater of your missing money.”

Luke watched her expression go from shock to resentment, her cheeks twin flaming spots of frustration. He could practically see the steam coming from her ears.

“Get on board or leave, Beth.” He added, “I can help with your bank problem—”

She pulled out her phone and dialed while Luke remained in frustrated silence.

“So a woman came in claiming she was a friend of the owners requesting the tenant be ‘preferably female, single, nonsmoker, employed or owning own business.’”

She nodded, studying him as he proccessed that information. “It’s time to pay my aunt a visit.”

Luke must have let something slip in his expression because a small frown marred her forehead as she studied him.

“You don’t want to see her,” she said slowly.

He shrugged. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, the scowl, the tight jaw. The way you’re narrowing your eyes right now. Plus the lawyer told you in no uncertain terms you should.”

He remained stubbornly silent until he finally said, “I haven’t seen her since Gino’s will reading two weeks ago.”

“So why—”

“It’s complicated.”

“I see.”

And still she continued to sit there, watching him in silent scrutiny until frustration seeped warmly from his skin.

“First this inquiry, then Gino’s heart attack, the funeral. She’s been through a lot.”

“So have you.” When she tilted her head, a blond curl slid across her cheek. “All that anger isn’t good. You should see someone.”

“I don’t need a shrink.”

She brushed the curl away. “I meant a physiotherapist or masseuse.”

“It’s nothing sleep can’t fix.” He stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankle before eyeing her speculatively. “You know, we’re more alike than you think.”

“Really?”

He ignored the sarcasm. “We’re both work driven, handling a lot of stress, and now we’ve got this situation messing up our lives. Which brings me back to my original problem. What’s our connection, Beth Jones?”

“I know as much as you do.” She glanced out the window as they passed the sign to Sunset Island.

“Sure.”

“So you think I’m hiding something.”

“I’ll bet my fifteen years at Jackson and Blair.”

“And in fifteen years you’ve become a master of avoiding a question,” Beth pointed out.

“What question?”

“Relaxation? You’ve got nothing to lose. Unless you like having a sore neck.”

He gave her a look. “Sounds like you want this for me more than I do.”

She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Ignore the expert.” Yet he couldn’t miss that fleeting look of concern as she turned back to the window.

He paused, allowing the events of the last day to press oppressively down. If he watched his back, he could hide out until the press frenzy blew over. Maybe. If luck was on his side.

But there was one big problem. A blonde, beautiful, hostile problem.

“Okay. A massage,” he said suddenly. But when she turned back to him, a small smile blooming, he added, “A massage for some background information.”

She blinked. “Some things are personal.”

“And we’re in each other’s faces, which is about as personal as it gets.”

The silence was absolute, a stark and obscene contrast to the noisy thoughts warring in Beth’s head.

Damn Luke and his steady chip-chip-chipping away at her defenses. She needed space, much more space than this luxurious interior would allow. Like another continent’s worth.

“Look,” she finally said, “I’m tired of arguing.”

“Then don’t.”

For one crazy second, Beth thought about walking away and letting him deal with the mess. Quickly, she rejected it. He’s prepared to fight for this. So am I.

“I promise I’ll get to the bottom of this, Beth.”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“And I can pull my weight around the house. I can clean, fix that loose pantry door. I even make a mean lasagna.”

A vision of Luke cooking in her kitchen jolted her. Another quickly followed—only this time he was stripped to the waist and teasing her with those come-to-bed eyes.

As if reading her thoughts, he grinned. “You’re tempted. The thought of a home-cooked lasagna got you, hey?”

The fantasy scattered. Confusion and pleasure battled for the lead until irritation won out. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing with that seductive smile and I’m-so-charming routine.”

His smile dropped. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to—”

“And don’t insult us both by denying it.” She scowled. “You really think that’s going to work on me?”

Instead of being insulted, that sensual smile just got wider. “You know what I think? I think you’re just trying to pick faults when there aren’t any. That you’re irritated because you desperately want to dislike me. That—” he held up his hand when she opened her mouth to interrupt “—that despite this weird situation you’re actually attracted to me, cara.”

She floundered for a second or two, trying to wrap her head around his bluntness, her cheeks flaming at his obvious amusement.

“Rubbish!”

He winked. “You sure?”

If a man could purr, Luke would be doing it right now. Coupled with that look and the memory of heat on her skin where his fingers had caressed her, he personified danger with a capital D. And he was about to move into her spare room and share her bathroom.

“Positive.” She turned away as her body hummed, a low throb reminding her that impending danger was only a couple of feet away.

She sat back in the luxurious leather, trying to put her thoughts in order. Yet she kept returning to the same conclusion. She might not like his methods. His mere presence may set her pulse racing and her internal alarms on high. But short of a miracle, she needed help finding Ben and sorting out her bank mix-up.

Plus, his staying with her was a perfect chance to convince him to sell.

Her mouth tightened as she turned back to him. “We need to set some ground rules.”

One eyebrow rose. “Okay …?”

“One. We share whatever information we find.”

Luke nodded.

“Two. No physical stuff. I mean it, Luke,” she warned as his eyes crinkled. “No touching. No smiling. Definitely nothing else.”

“So I can’t smile at you now?”

“You know what I mean. No Mr. Charming. Stop it!”

Luke, to his credit, tried to swallow the offending grin. “I can’t promise that, cara. But I will keep my distance if that’s what you want. However,” he added, his mouth kinking up, “if you should change your mind …” Her heart beat a little faster.

“I won’t be asking.”

“Really.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you doubt my willpower?”

“No.” He grinned. “Just questioning why I get you all flustered in the first place.”

The arrogance of the man! Beth looked away as the car finally pulled into the driveway and she leaped out as if her life depended on it.

He followed her up the front steps. “Running away won’t do any good, cara.” His liquid voice dropped to a husky rumble. “You tell me I need to relax, but look at you. You’re a bundle of nerves.”

Welcoming the cold indignation that started in the pit of her stomach, she whirled on him.

“You ever think maybe it could be you stressing me out?” She jammed her keys in the front door and managed to break a nail in the process. Cursing, she glared at him. “I’ve spent the better part of ten years getting my life just the way I want it and suddenly it’s snatched away. Do you know how damn frustrating that is?” She tightened her hands into fists and placed them on her hips, the keys forgotten, dangling from the lock. “It galls me to ask for help but yes, I need it. But let me get something straight—I don’t need fixing or saving or anything else. And I’m not going to be your project, so you can get that out of your head, too.”

She paused for breath.

“You finished?” Luke asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“Good. You got the wrong guy. Playing the knight in shining armor isn’t my thing. All I want is to clear my name and get back to my job. And we both want to keep this out of the papers.”

The keys suddenly fell from the lock and they both bent for them. Their hands collided. Then their gazes. Luke was so close he could smell her—lemons and freshness and rain—could nearly touch those soft curls that framed delicate earlobes. Could even feel the slow heat humming through her skin.

The woman was a baffling mix of “back off” and steely determination. She didn’t want him around, yet she wasn’t going to leave. He’d never felt more confused.

She was the first to straighten. She did it so smoothly and with such aplomb that he almost missed the shadow of regret clouding her eyes.

Finally, Beth managed to open the door. Touching is supposed to be a major release for stress, she reminded herself as she walked down the hall. It boosts your immune system, it eases tension. It releases endorphins to help you relax.

Whoever thought that one up obviously hadn’t been touched by Luke De Rossi.

She glanced back. Luke stood in the doorway, looking very large, very male and totally in charge.

The expression on his face made her nerves backflip. “Trust me, Beth, I’ll get to the bottom of everything.”

Yeah, that’s what she was afraid of.