Читать книгу The Tycoon's Trophy Mistress - Lee Wilkinson, Lee Wilkinson - Страница 7

HER brain stuck on a mental treadmill, thinking, planning, analyzing, unable to rest, Charlotte lay awake for most of the night. She got up the next morning heavy-eyed and headachy, and pulled on her old woollen dressing-gown.

Outside it was grey and gloomy, with lingering patches of mist. Her father would have referred to it as ‘one of the dark days before Christmas’.

When she trailed through to the kitchen Carla, fully dressed and ready for her usual early start, was making toast and coffee.

‘You look like something the cat dragged in,’ she remarked bluntly.

‘I feel like it,’ Charlotte admitted.

‘No beauty sleep?’

‘Not much.’

‘You’ll have to do a lot better than that. If Daniel Wolfe could see you now, he’d run and hide.’

While they ate breakfast together she remarked thoughtfully, ‘I reckon your best bet would be to appeal to his protective instincts, supposing he’s got any. In my experience most macho men like the “wide-eyed and helpless” bit.’

‘I’m not sure I can do wide-eyed and helpless,’ Charlotte objected.

‘Try. It feeds their egos, believe me.’

‘I do believe you, but—’

‘How far do you intend to go? To hook him, I mean. You don’t plan to go to bed with him?’

A shiver running down her spine at the very thought, Charlotte said vehemently, ‘No I most certainly don’t!’

‘Not that you couldn’t use a spot of fun in your life…’

‘That kind of excitement I can do without.’

‘Well, if his reputation is anything to go by, he must be pretty good in bed and in your place I’d give it a whirl.’

‘With a man like that?’

‘As far as I’m concerned, life’s a bowl of cherries. You have to spit out the stones and enjoy the flesh.’

‘I don’t seem able to,’ Charlotte admitted. ‘I often wonder if there’s something wrong with me.’

‘The only thing wrong with you is your pride. And pride builds a lonely house. But a word of caution… If you do mean to keep saying no, just watch yourself. Don’t let the big bad Wolfe get you alone. From all accounts he’s a born seducer and you never know, if he’s used to getting his way, he may turn nasty…’

After issuing a spate of last-minute warnings and advice Carla gave her a quick hug. ‘I’d better go. Fridays are always busy and so close to Christmas it’s bound to be hectic.

‘Oh, by the way, I’ve left your Christmas present on the bookcase. I haven’t had time to wrap it, so you can use it as soon as you like.’

At the door she turned to say, ‘Keep in touch. I’ll miss you.’

When Charlotte went through to the living-room she found one of the boutique’s elegant black and gold bags on the bookcase.

It contained three pairs of pure silk stockings and a bottle of Dawn Flight, her favourite perfume.

Smiling fondly at the other girl’s absurd generosity, she went to fetch the Carillon Trilogy, which Carla had wanted.

Enquiries had proved it to be out of print, but after weeks of searching Charlotte had been lucky enough to find the set in a second-hand bookshop.

After she had showered, made-up with care and twisted her dark red-gold hair into a shining coil, she put on the sage-green suit and oatmeal blouse she had left ready and zipped up her case. Then, feeling tense and jumpy, she went to stand by the window of the basement flat.

She was looking up at the damp street when a sleek dark blue limousine with tinted windows stopped by the spiky wrought iron railings.

A moment later a uniformed chauffeur descended the steps and knocked at the yellow-painted door.

She hurried to open it.

Young and smart, he touched his peaked cap. ‘Morning, Miss Michaels.’

‘Good morning.’

‘May I take your luggage?’

‘Thank you.’

While he dealt with her case, Charlotte locked the door and put the key through the ornate letter-box, before following him up the area steps.

Having closed the boot he sprang to open the door of the limousine.

He couldn’t have been more on the ball if he’d been chauffeuring Daniel Wolfe himself, she thought, secretly amused by his super-efficiency.

Head down, she had started to climb in before she realized that a man with dark hair, wearing a charcoal-grey business suit and a muted shirt and tie was already sitting there.

Surprise making her miss her footing, she stumbled and ended up almost in his lap, her face only inches from his, the warmth of his breath on her lips.

Steadying her until she was properly seated, he picked up the shoulder-bag she had dropped and handed it to her. ‘I’m afraid I startled you.’ He had an attractive voice.

‘I just wasn’t expecting…’ As she realized who her fellow passenger was, the words tailed off.

No, it couldn’t be.

But it was.

Although she had only seen pictures of him, there was no mistaking that tough, charismatic face and the arrogant tilt of that dark head.

In the flesh he was even more sexy than his pictures had led her to believe, and Carla had been quite wrong. His breath was fresh and sweet and the eyes that looked straight into hers were amazing—a brilliant silvery grey, their heavy lids fringed with dense, sooty lashes.

Her heart started to race and her breathing became shallow and impeded, while a quiver of pure hatred ran through her.

She was staring into those handsome eyes as though mesmerized when he reminded her politely, ‘Don’t forget to fasten your seat-belt, Miss Michaels.’

But her brain seemed to have slowed to a standstill and was unable to direct her fingers. When she had made a couple of fumbling, unsuccessful attempts, he leaned over and fastened it for her.

As the car slid smoothly away from the kerb, he felt a boyish urge to punch the air in triumph. After all these months of waiting, here she was at last, sitting beside him.

Close up, she was stunning. Her skin was flawless, a creamy gold, rather than pallid, as some natural redheads were. And those eyes! Daniel had been making bets with himself as to what colour her eyes would be. Probably blue, he’d decided. Blue he could happily live with, but that clear, dark green was absolutely breathtaking.

Not for the first time he found himself regretting what had happened. It could make getting anywhere with this gorgeous woman next door to impossible.

Though she was looking at him in a way that made him strongly suspect she already knew who he was, he decided to take the plunge and bring things into the open. ‘I guess I’d better introduce myself. I’m Daniel Wolfe.’

He held out his hand.

Like someone in a dream, Charlotte took it.

His palm was cool and dry, his handclasp firm, but she would sooner have touched a snake and she was already withdrawing her hand before he said politely, ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Michaels.’

Stunned by this surprise encounter, she made no reply. Her brain seemed jarred, incapable of coming to grips with the situation. All she could think was that it was too soon. She wasn’t ready.

When she continued to sit as still and blank-faced as if she were having a passport photograph taken Daniel held his breath.

If she believed only a fraction of what the gutter press had printed she still had no reason to love him and, his usual confidence deserting him at times, he had wondered uneasily what her reaction would be when they finally came face to face.

Yet it was a hurdle he had to get over, and now the moment had arrived all he could do was wait for the recriminations.

But, apparently thrown by the unexpectedness of the meeting, she remained silent.

Letting his breath out slowly, he went on, ‘As we were travelling at the same time I thought we might as well share a car to the airport…’

Charlotte, who had been struggling to gather her wits, blurted out the first thing that came into her head. ‘I had no idea you were in London… That’s why I was so surprised when you introduced yourself.’

Registering that she had a lovely voice, low and slightly husky, he remarked, ‘I got the impression that you knew who I was before I introduced myself?’

‘Yes, I knew,’ she admitted.

‘But we’ve never actually met.’

‘No,’ she agreed.

‘I presume you’ve seen me at the office?’

‘No.’

‘Out and about, socially?’

Shaking her head, she pointed out, ‘We’re hardly likely to move in the same social circles.’

‘This beats I Spy.’

Momentarily failing to understand, she said, ‘I beg your pardon?’

Straight faced, he explained, ‘As a young child I used to get bored travelling in a car. My mother tried giving me books but looking down made me sick, so we always played I Spy With My Little Eye. I was just remarking that this particular guessing game beats it.’

Annoyed that he was making fun of her, she said crisply, ‘I’ve seen pictures of you in the papers.’

But pictures hadn’t had this impact. Pictures hadn’t prepared her for the man himself.

He sighed. ‘It was just getting exciting, and now you’ve gone and spoilt it.’

‘Well, we can always play I Spy.’

As soon as the words were spoken she wished them unsaid. She was supposed to be trying to charm him, not trying to cut him down to size.

She couldn’t afford to hurt his feelings. Like most men of his ilk he probably had a fragile ego and no sense of humour.

But a split second later he proved her wrong by bursting out laughing. He had a nice laugh, quiet and infectious, not the kind of hearty guffaw she so disliked.

A gleam in his eye, he said, ‘I’m forced to admit that these days I prefer more grown up games.’

‘I’m aware of that.’ She had had tragic proof of his liking for ‘grown up games’, and all at once she wanted to fly at him, to rake her nails down his handsome face until she drew blood.

Regretting the teasing remark that had prompted such an icy response, Daniel sat quite still, watching her intently, braced for the worst.

But, already ashamed of that primitive urge to violence, and reminding herself that if she was to succeed in her campaign he mustn’t know about her connection with Tim, Charlotte reined in her anger.

Making a great effort she added lightly, ‘In every picture there’s been a different woman on your arm, and the papers have frequently referred to you as a latter-day Lothario with a string of notches on your bedpost.’

‘At times their stories have bordered on the libellous. I’ve always deplored that kind of coverage.’

‘Then it wasn’t you who said, “No publicity is bad publicity”?’

Happy to respond to what seemed to be a change of mood, he answered with a grin, ‘What do you think?’

His smile showed the gleam of white, healthy teeth, formed deep creases each side of his mouth and filled his dark face with charm.

Very conscious of his sexual magnetism and hating him for it, Charlotte made an effort to smile back.

She found it easier than she had anticipated. It seemed she was a better actress than she had given herself credit for.

Rocked by that smile, he told her, ‘I’m afraid my present relationship with the press leaves a lot to be desired. After being asked at a recent press conference what I thought of modern journalism, I stated my belief that some journalists not only embroider the truth but fabricate what they don’t know. Since then they’ve been out for blood.’

‘Are they lies?’ The question was out before she could prevent it.

‘Very often they are,’ he said steadily. ‘Though I don’t pretend to live like a monk, most of their stories are just that. Stories. But, unfortunately, when dirt’s thrown some of it’s bound to stick.’

‘But surely you were once the press’s Golden Boy?’

‘I was until I proved to be uncooperative… Which I can never accuse you of being.’ Smoothly he changed the subject. ‘I hope agreeing to make this transfer so soon didn’t cause you too many problems?’

‘No, not at all.’

‘You’re not leaving behind anyone special? A boyfriend, perhaps?’

‘No.’

Only too pleased to have Sheering’s report confirmed, Daniel queried, ‘How did you manage with regard to your flat?’

‘The flat is a rented one I share with an old school friend, so that was no problem.’

‘Most people would have balked at being parted from their families this close to Christmas.’

Her voice under control she said, ‘I have no family to share Christmas with.’

He waited.

When she failed to mention her stepbrother, Daniel wondered why. Even though he was her boss, he couldn’t believe she lacked either the will or the courage to confront him.

Ready to tell her how much he regretted what had happened, to explain his part in it, he asked a number of careful questions, skirting round the family issue, giving her every chance to bring things into the open.

When she failed to do so he was forced to conclude that, for whatever reason, she had made up her mind to say nothing.

Though he himself would have preferred to confront the issue, if she had decided to leave the past behind then, for the time being at least, he would go along with that.

Charlotte, having answered his questions with at least outward composure, was feeling a little more sure of herself. Even so, she seemed unable to get her act together.

Though she knew she might never have this kind of opportunity again, and she should be making the most of it, she could think of nothing sparkling to say, no way to interest him.

When the silence began to stretch, reasonably satisfied with how things had gone so far, Daniel asked, ‘Have you ever been to New York before?’

Relieved to move on to this new subject, she answered, ‘No, I haven’t, though I’ve always wanted to go.’

‘I hope you’ll enjoy the experience.’

‘I’m sure I will.’

Then, seizing the chance to carry on with the conversation, ‘What’s it like, living in New York?’

‘It’s overcrowded, and the traffic is a nightmare. In summer it can be hot and dusty and airless, and in winter cold and bleak and snowy.

‘In common with most cities it has its share of crime and deprivation and weirdos. But in the past it’s always been alive and vibrant. Synonymous with exciting.

‘These days it’s like an old dog that, though it’s been badly beaten, is still brave and beautiful. And you’ll find that most New Yorkers are great. They have the same kind of indomitable spirit that Londoners do.

‘I’ve always thought New York was a wonderful place to be, and I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

‘Having said that, however, I don’t lose sight of the fact that I’m one of the fortunate ones, with a home in a pleasant area and a chauffeur-driven car.

‘When it’s too hot and humid I can move out to the beaches on Long Island, and when it’s miserable and slushy underfoot I can travel Upstate to the virgin snow of the Catskills.’

‘It sounds idyllic.’

‘As I say, I’m one of the lucky ones.’

When she said no more he steered the conversation towards the latest news.

Charlotte followed his lead and until they reached the airport, like polite strangers, they talked about what was happening in the world.

As the limousine drew up outside Departures, with a sinking heart Charlotte realized that her chance to make the right kind of impression on Daniel Wolfe was gone. As soon as the chauffeur had finished unloading their luggage she and her companion would no doubt part company.

The best she dared hope for was that she had made enough of an impact that once in New York he might possibly renew contact to ask how she was getting on.

But when, having smiled and thanked him for the lift, she said goodbye and prepared to go, he shook his head. ‘Stick with me, Miss Michaels.’

‘But I have to pick up my ticket.’

‘That’s all taken care of. We’re both booked on the same plane.’

Before she had got over her amazement he had gathered her up and, a hand at her waist, swept her along with him as though she were his equal rather than his employee.

At five feet seven inches she was fairly tall for a woman, but he must be a minimum of six feet three inches, she guessed, and seemed even bigger because of the breadth of his shoulders.

Focused and powerful, he moved lithely and fast on the balls of his feet, a tight mass of coiled energy, and she found herself almost trotting to keep up with his long strides.

Travelling with Daniel Wolfe, she soon found, was a totally new experience. VIP treatment smoothed their path and added immeasurably to their ease and convenience.

After being whisked through the formalities, they were served with a tray of excellent coffee before boarding the big jet and being shown to a pair of First Class seats.

Charlotte was staggered. Surely it hadn’t happened by chance? She shot him a puzzled glance.

He raised a dark brow. ‘Something wrong?’

‘No…I just didn’t think… I mean, I hadn’t expected that we’d be on the same plane, let alone sitting together.’

His silvery eyes on her face, he queried mildly, ‘I hope the prospect of having me sitting next to you during the flight doesn’t seriously bother you?’

‘N-no, of course not. I’m just surprised.’

‘As we were travelling at the same time, I told my secretary to book adjacent seats. I found the thought of a little company welcome. I hope you do?’

‘Very welcome,’ Charlotte assured him with her most fetching smile.

So was the unaccustomed luxury.

Used to being crowded into economy, she was staggered by how very comfortable and spacious the First Class area was.

In spite of her tension, or maybe because of it, almost as soon as they were airborne she found herself having to stifle a yawn.

‘Tired?’ he queried, proving he missed nothing.

‘I didn’t get much sleep last night,’ she admitted.

‘Over-excited?’

‘Probably.’

‘Then why not have a little nap before lunch?’

She shook her head. ‘I have been known to fall asleep in cars and buses, but never on planes.’

Taking off his jacket he queried, ‘Any particular reason?’

Without intending to she found herself telling him the truth. ‘I can’t relax enough. I’m never really happy flying. My father was killed in a plane crash.’

‘I’m sorry. How long ago was that?’

‘Six years.’

‘I’m sorry. And what about your mother?’

‘My mother died when I was quite young and my father married again.’

‘His dying like that must have been hard on both you and your stepmother.’

Her generous mouth tightening, she said shortly, ‘My stepmother didn’t care.’

‘Oh?’

‘She was playing around with another man when it happened.’

Her companion waited, his eyes on her face.

Though she had had no intention of revealing any more, Charlotte found herself saying, ‘He was an oil company executive and barely a month after my father’s funeral she married him and went to live in the Middle East.’

Knowing Tim Hunt must have been just a schoolboy at the time, Daniel waited for her to go on. But once again she said nothing about her stepbrother.

After a moment, he probed, ‘I guess you were still at college?’

Wondering vexedly why she had told him so much, Charlotte answered briefly, ‘Yes, I was.’

Seeing she didn’t want to carry on the conversation and watching her smother another yawn, he said, ‘Nap time, I think.’

He adjusted the angle of the seats so that they were reclining comfortably and gathered her close.

‘Put your head on my shoulder.’ He settled her head at the comfortable juncture between chest and shoulder, adding, as he might have done to a child, ‘I’ll keep you safe.’

For an instant everything seemed to stop—her heartbeat, her breathing, her very lifeblood—and she froze into stillness.

Then, with a kind of backlash, she felt an almost uncontrollable urge to tear herself away and cry Keep your hands off me, you swine!

But the last thing she must do was let her true feelings show. She had to play-act for all she was worth.

Though for the moment any acting ability seemed to have totally deserted her.

Recalling Carla’s advice, she knew she should be snuggling against him, doing the ‘wide-eyed and helpless’ bit, but somehow she couldn’t.

Breathing in the clean freshness of his shirt, the faint suggestion of shower-gel and the masculine scent of his aftershave, all she could do was stay quite still, every muscle in her body taut.

‘Relax,’ he urged softly.

Only too aware of his overpowering maleness, the firmness of bone and muscle beneath her cheek, the sureness and strength of his arm holding her, she knew it would be impossible to relax.

But after a while, with a weight of warmth and tiredness lying over her body like a cashmere shawl, her tension drained away and she slept.

When she finally stirred and resurfaced for a second or two she had no idea where she was, or who was holding her so closely.

‘Feeling better, Miss Michaels…?’ a pleasant male voice queried.

‘Yes, thank you,’ she mumbled.

Looking into forest-green eyes still dazed with sleep, he added, ‘Or may I call you Charlotte…?’

‘Please do,’ she replied automatically as she gathered her wits and struggled to sit up.

His smile teasing, he said, ‘Somehow, I feel that watching over you while you slept has moved our relationship on to a more…shall we say…personal footing.’

Flustered by the thought of Daniel Wolfe watching her sleep, she drew hastily away.

Removing his arm and readjusting the seats, he pursued, ‘You must have been absolutely shattered. You’ve slept for almost two hours.’

A glance at her watch confirmed the truth of his statement. ‘I—I’m sorry,’ she stammered. ‘I haven’t been much company.’

In truth, he had enjoyed the chance to just hold her quietly and watch her sleeping face.

When Glenda, his younger sister, married and became a mother, she had once remarked how much time she and her husband had spent just looking at the cherished new arrival.

Finding it difficult to take his eyes off his companion, Daniel now knew exactly what his sister had meant.

Studying that glorious hair, the silky brows and thick, naturally-dark lashes that curled so enticingly, the pure curve of her cheek, he had felt a fierce desire.

Then noticing how, in repose, her soft mouth drooped a little at the corners, as though she’d forgotten how to be happy, he had felt an odd kind of tenderness mingling with desire.

Now seeing her look of genuine concern he shook his head. ‘There’s nothing to be sorry for, I do assure you.’

Tucking in a tendril of silky, red-gold hair that had escaped from its neat coil, Charlotte sighed inwardly. Though he sounded quite laid back about the lack of company she was vexed with herself. She should have been using that time to amuse him, rather than just sleeping.

Once they reached New York and went their separate ways, it would be too late…

‘About ready for some lunch?’ His voice broke into her thoughts.

Finding herself unexpectedly hungry, she nodded.

‘What do you fancy?’ He handed her a menu that bore little resemblance to the kind of airline food she had been served in the past.

Seeing her hesitate, he asked, ‘Something wrong?’

‘I’m just bowled over by the choice,’ she admitted. ‘I usually travel economy class.’

He grinned. ‘Oh yes, I remember it well.’

‘You do?’ She failed to hide her surprise.

With a kind of wry self-mockery he told her, ‘After graduating, to see what I was made of, I spent a couple of years working my way round the globe. At times cash was so tight that even those ubiquitous plastic containers were welcome…’

While they ate a leisurely lunch followed by coffee and brandy they talked about his travels and the various places he’d visited.

‘Have you travelled much?’ he asked at length.

‘Not as much as I would have wished.’

‘Even though you dislike flying?’

‘I wouldn’t have let that stop me. At one time I’d planned to go round the world when I finished college, but…’ She stopped speaking abruptly.

‘But?’

‘I had commitments.’ She still felt unbearably desolate and sad when she thought of Tim. Poor Tim. And it was all this man’s fault.

A fresh wave of anger and hatred shook her.

Watching her, Daniel waited.

When she said nothing he queried carefully, ‘Is there anywhere in particular you’d still like to go?’

Taking a deep steadying breath she answered, ‘Quite a lot of places. But until earlier this year Carla—the girl I share the flat with—has been lighting candles for my financial status.’

‘It doesn’t sound as if we’re paying you enough.’

‘As I said, I had commitments.’

It seemed as if Sheering had been right when he suggested that Charlotte had been supporting her stepbrother, Daniel thought, and once again he waited, hoping she would go on.

But her face had that still, controlled look he was coming to recognize and, sighing inwardly, he decided to back off and change the subject.

Leaving the more emotive topics, he began to talk about international finance and how it affected current business interests.

After a moment, appearing cool and collected now, she joined in and held her own in a conversation that, though general, was deep and wide-ranging.

He moved easily from money issues and world trade to global warming and the preservation of natural resources. All the time testing her knowledge, seeking her reaction, asking her opinion, which, greatly to her surprise, often seemed to coincide with his.

If they touched on a subject that she was more familiar with than he was he saluted her superior knowledge. Generously.

Used to being talked down to by the men on her team who seemed to think brains and beauty were incompatible, she found it stimulating to be taken seriously and treated as an equal.

By the time they reached New York and came in to land at busy JFK Airport she had almost forgotten her reason for being there.

Almost.

Once again, with a light but firm hand at her waist, Daniel Wolfe took charge of everything. In no time at all, it seemed, the formalities were completed and their luggage was being ferried to a waiting limousine by a smartly uniformed chauffeur.

Instead of being dull and damp, as it had been in London, to Charlotte’s surprise there was a fresh cover of snow. Overhead the sky was a cloudless cornflower-blue, and the sun shone coldly bright.

As they drove through Queens, which seemed to be mainly residential, she queried, ‘How far is it?’

‘About fifteen miles to mid-Manhattan. It’ll take about an hour, depending on the traffic.’

Though aware that she should be using the time to advantage Charlotte could think of nothing else to say, and once again very conscious of the man by her side she looked resolutely through the car window.

For his part, his first surging excitement now leashed by his better judgement, Daniel was content to simply have her by his side.

Earlier, on the plane, the urge to hold her in his arms had been so great that he had thrown caution to the winds.

He had felt her momentary withdrawal, her tenseness and, expecting the worst, had braced himself for an open rejection.

When it hadn’t come he had been both pleased and puzzled. Either she had decided to forgive and forget or she was playing some deep game of her own.

Whichever, it seemed that, in the short term at least, life was going to be far from dull.