Читать книгу The Banker's Convenient Wife - Линн Грэхем, Lynne Graham - Страница 6

A WIFE, Roel thought morosely.

Was it any wonder his memory had chosen to betray him by overlooking the most unprofitable acquisition in a man’s life since the advent of disease? Although he was only in his thirtieth year, it seemed that he had already sacrificed his freedom. Just as his father had done and his father before him: marry young, repent in millions. Yet he had sworn to himself that he would not make the same error.

He had steered clear of messy personal entanglements and kept mistresses who excelled between the sheets instead. He had a high sex drive, so he took care of it. Lust could not control him. Nor had he ever believed in love. So, love could thankfully have had nothing to do with his evident change of heart on the matrimonial front.

Certain things, however, he did not require memory to know. Indeed certain things he knew by instinct. The wife, whom his undisciplined mind had chosen to forget, would be a tall, elegant brunette because that was the type of woman who attracted him. She would be from a wealthy background and possessed of impeccable society lineage. She might be a career woman—a banker or even an economist, a possibility that was of some small comfort to him. Perhaps while discussing risk management and investment strategy he had recognised a working soul mate. An unemotional and otherwise quiet woman, who would respect the demands of his schedule when he was too busy to see her.

A knock sounded on the door. He swung round from the window, a male who stood six feet four inches, broad of shoulder and lean of hip, his tall, well-built frame sheathed in an Armani business suit of faultless cut.

‘Will you close your eyes before I come in?’ a low-pitched British voice asked. ‘Cos if you don’t I’m likely to feel really silly introducing myself to you as a wife.’

Shock one…he had married a foreigner with a definable regional accent rather than the clear flattened vowel sounds of the English upper class. Shock two…she used teenage slang and made childish requests.

‘Roel?’ Hilary prompted in the taut silence.

Raw impatience clenched Roel’s even white teeth together. He recognised that there were two ways of playing the scene. Either he could blast her out before she even came through the door or he could play along until such time as he had worked out exactly who and what he was dealing with. ‘OK…’

‘I suppose you’re really nervous about this too but, now that I’m here, you don’t need to worry about anything any more.’

His back turned to the door, his dark deep-set eyes alight with intense disbelief, Roel actually found himself snatching in a sustaining breath. Shock three…he had married a woman who, in the space of a mere sixty seconds, could contrive to antagonise and offend him by treating him with disrespect.

‘I was just so touched that you were asking for me at the hospital…’ Hilary gabbled, hastening in and closing the door behind her and only then daring to open her own eyes.

‘I asked for you?’ Roel questioned with incredulity. ‘How could I have asked for you when I don’t remember you?’

‘My goodness, what are you doing out of bed?’ Hilary demanded in astonishment, losing all track of what they had been talking about.

‘Tell me, do you work using a list of stupid comments or do they come to mind without effort?’ Roel shot back with sardonic bite as he swung round to face her.

Standing upright and only three feet from her, Roel’s sheer size was menacing. She had to tilt her head back to get a proper look at him and then, even though she had flinched at that cutting comeback, she could not take her attention from him. Her mouth ran dry and her heartbeat speeded up for before her stood the living, breathing male embodiment of her every desire and dream.

The stark male beauty of his lean dark features hit her with explosive force. He was incredibly good-looking and shockingly sexy. But he also had a magnetic presence of command and icy authority that she could feel right down to the marrow of her bones. He did not smile and she wasn’t surprised. His charismatic smile was rare and the chill in the room was pronounced. And she understood, she understood even his aggressive attack on her, and her heart twisted inside her with loving forgiveness. Torture could not have dragged the truth from him but she knew that he was as close to scared as he was ever likely to be. She was well aware that the sudden onslaught of a forgotten wife was probably his worst nightmare come true.

‘I don’t like sarcasm,’ she told him, tilting up her chin.

‘I don’t like stupid questions.’ Roel discovered that he had to lower the angle of his gaze even to bring his wife into his field of vision. She was tiny but not remotely doll-like, very much an individual and only in her early twenties at most, he noted, succumbing to grudging fascination. Her grey eyes were the colour of stormy seas. Her hair was a shimmering silvery blonde worn in a short spiky cut and tipped with pink. Pink? It had to be a trick of the light, he decided. She had a smattering of freckles across her nose and luscious cherry-red lips that would have tempted a saint.

The distinct tightening in his groin caught Roel by surprise for he was long past the teenage years when his body had last cast off his disciplined control. But as his attention roamed down over his wife’s glorious hourglass shape his arousal only became more pronounced. Full, rounded breasts were moulded by a blue cotton tee shirt while low-slung hipster jeans accentuated her tiny waist and the pronounced curve of her highly feminine hips. While his rational mind struggled to name shock four in his encounter with his wife as her total lack of exclusive designer elegance, his appreciative hormones were winning hands down. He might not remember her but the dynamite sexual charge she ignited in him spoke a great deal louder than memory or words. Roel always had to explain the inexplicable and he was now satisfied as to why he must have married her.

‘I think you should still be resting.’ Involuntarily, Hilary connected with smouldering dark golden eyes and what little grasp she had on the muted dialogue vanished.

‘Are you in the habit of telling me what to do?’ Roel enquired, striving for a warning note that ended up unaccountably husky.

‘What do you think?’ As she met his stunning gaze her mouth ran dry and her tummy flipped. The atmosphere sizzled and her whole body leapt with energised awareness. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t drag in enough oxygen to fill her lungs. Her bra felt too tight, her breasts full and sensitive. Her nipples pinched tight and stung, reacting to the same sensual heat that was flaring into wicked being deep within her pelvis. She knew exactly what was happening to her and, worse, that she was powerless to stop it. This was, after all, the guy who had almost sunk her to the degrading level of offering up her virginity for a no-strings-attached one-night stand. She had craved Roel that much and that bad and, had he displayed any interest in that direction, pride would not have held her back.

Exercising the fierce strength of will that was the backbone of his character, Roel removed his intent gaze from his wife. So at least he understood why he had married a youthful sex kitten with no dress sense: lust, mindless, rampant lust, he labelled, his handsome masculine mouth hardening. He was appalled that he could have been that predictable but not one to beat himself up over a sin of the flesh.

‘The woman who tried to tell me what to do would be a fool,’ Roel murmured with smooth, cutting cool. ‘I’m sure you don’t fall in that category.’

‘I don’t squash easy either,’ Hilary told him doggedly, her colour high but her spine rigid as she utilised every scrap of dignity she possessed to rise above the humiliating weakness of her own body. ‘After what you’ve been through, you should still be in bed.’

His beautifully shaped ebony brows drew together in a fleeting frown line. ‘I have no further need for medical attention. I’m sorry if you have been concerned but I’m heading back into the office.’

Her eyes widened to their fullest extent. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘As I am rarely anything else, I cannot imagine why you should suggest otherwise. Or believe that I’m likely to be in need of your opinion on the issue,’ Roel sliced back in glacial dismissal.

‘Well, for what it’s worth, I’m going to give you my opinion unasked,’ Hilary slammed back at him angrily. ‘Maybe you think it’s dead macho to act like there’s nothing wrong with you but I just think that that’s plain stupid!’

Dark golden eyes flared, incandescent with anger. ‘I—’

‘You’re suffering from a very worrying loss of memory and you are not thinking through what you are doing—’

Roel flung his proud dark head high. ‘I never act without thought—’

‘By going back to work, you would be denying that there’s even a problem. I can’t let you do that—’

‘Tell me one thing,’ Roel countered with sardonic clarity. ‘Before the car smash, were we in the process of divorce?’

‘Not that I know of!’ Hilary tossed back, small hands spreading on her hips to maintain a firmer grip, her grey eyes bright with resolve. ‘You may be a very clever guy but you can also be very stubborn and extremely impractical. Right now, it’s my job to make sure that you don’t do anything that you’ll later regret, so get back in that bed and take it easy!’

Brilliant eyes enhanced by black spiky lashes, Raul surveyed her as though she were a madwoman in need of restraint. ‘Nobody tells me what to do. I’m astonished that you should think that you have the right to impose your views on me.’

‘Yeah, marriage is a toughie for a control freak,’ Hilary slammed back unimpressed. ‘I’m not about to apologise for trying to protect you from yourself. If you go back into the bank, your employees will realise that there’s something wrong with you—’

‘There is nothing wrong with me, only a temporary phase of slight disorientation—’

‘During which you forgot about a great fat chunk of your past life!’ Hilary slotted in heatedly. ‘I think that’s very relevant and a lot more dangerous than you’re prepared to admit. There’ll be employees and clients you won’t even recognise, situations you don’t understand and which you may screw up. You’re also five flipping years out of date with your precious work. Who are you planning to take into your confidence in an effort to avoid making embarrassing mistakes? Because one thing I do know about you, Roel…just about the only person alive whom you trust is yourself!’

Out of breath and trembling with the force of her feelings, for she was aghast at the very idea of him attempting an immediate return to work, Hilary glared at Roel in challenge. Just as quickly her expression changed to one of anxiety as she saw him frown as though with pain. Only then did she register the ashen cast of his complexion and the slight tremor in his hand as he raised it to his head.

‘Sit down…’ Closing both hands over his, Hilary urged him back towards the armchair behind him.

Roel was swaying but he still fought her attempt to help him. ‘But I don’t need—’

‘Shut up and sit down!’ Hilary launched at him fiercely and she used his uneven balance to topple him down into the chair like a felled tree.

’Per meraviglia…’ Roel groaned in frustration. ‘It’s only a headache.’

But Hilary had already hit the call button to bring a nurse and the presence of that third party, soon followed by the entry of Dr Lerther, prevented Roel from expressing his fury at her interfering and taking charge in such a way.

In any case, Roel had recognised that his wife had panic written all over her. He decided that there was something to be said for a woman with a face that seemed to wear her every passing thought. Her eyes were dark with stress and worry and she stood humbly at the back of the room, demonstrating what he considered to be exaggerated respect for the medical personnel while nibbling anxiously at a nail.

He couldn’t take his attention off his nail-biting wife. She looked so scared on his behalf and she was trembling. Concern for his health must have made her shout at him. She seemed to be fond of him. She might well be fonder still of his immense wealth and all that it could buy her, Roel conceded cynically but, indisputably, she seemed to cherish some degree of genuine fondness for him. He knew all women were terrific actresses but any single one of the previous lovers he could recall would have withstood torture sooner than succumb to cannibalising a nail.

In addition his wife was neither as uncomplicated nor as predictable as he had initially assumed. A startling amount of fire and defiance lurked behind that cute and curvaceous feminine exterior. He was accustomed to women who said yes to his every request and worked hard at meeting his expectations before he could even be put to the trouble of voicing a request. He had never met a woman who had the nerve to shout at him or one who would go toe to toe with him in a fight. In actuality, he did not argue with people ever. He had never had to argue. Arguments just didn’t happen to him.

Hilary was feeling hugely, horribly guilty and shaken up. Roel was still suffering from the physical after-effects of a serious accident and she had lost her temper with him. How could she have done that? As a rule she had an even temper and a sunny easygoing nature. What had come over her? Instead of being calm and coaxing and patient, she had been strident and emotional and accusing. He had looked taken aback. She didn’t think he was used to being shouted at and she could not believe that she had done so.

Sucking in a deep steadying breath, she studied him. Her heart jumped as though it were on a trampoline. His luxuriant black hair was tousled, bold profile taut, his dense black lashes cut crescent-shaped shadows over his proud olive cheekbones. Extravagantly handsome, he had a raw masculine appeal that turned female heads wherever he went. He still took her breath away. Just as he had the very first time she’d seen him and the recollection of that particular day nearly four years ago swept her back in time…

Talking on a mobile phone, Roel had walked through the door of the busy salon where she’d worked as a junior stylist. There he had stilled, ebony brows elevating with a faint air of well-bred surprise as he’d taken in his surroundings. She had immediately understood that, like others before him, he had mistaken the salon for the much more exclusive place a few doors further along the street. In that split second when he had been on the brink of wheeling round to leave again something had propelled her forward. Something? The fact that he was so outrageously good-looking she would have gone without food for a week just to own a photo of him? How could she explain her own unbelievably powerful need to prevent him walking back out of her life again as casually as he had wandered into it?

‘Just you stay on the phone and I’ll take care of your hair,’ Hilary suggested, planting herself between him and the door, relying on his essential male instinct to avoid acknowledging that he had made a mistake to guide him.

He flicked her a perplexed glance, the sort that told her he did not really see her and was much more interested in his phone conversation. She expected that to change when she wielded the styling scissors around him. In her admittedly slender experience handsome men were well aware of being handsome and as keen as any woman to ensure that their hair was cut only to their own exact specification.

‘Do what needs to be done,’ Roel told her impatiently.

Asked for guidance a second time, he gave her an unbelieving appraisal. ‘But it’s only a haircut, nothing important.’

So she just copied the existing conservative style. Even the feel of his luxuriant black hair thrilled her fingertips. As he paid she urged him to make sure that he came back. He had just walked out when she noticed the large denomination banknote that she assumed he had accidentally dropped on the desk. Ever eager, she rushed out into the street after him.

‘It’s a tip,’ Roel said in a pained tone when she attempted to return the money. He stared down at her from his great height while a limousine the length of a train drew up behind him and a uniformed chauffeur leapt out to throw open the passenger door for his entry.

‘But it’s too much…’ she mumbled, staggered by the sight of that limo and the concept of a tip that size.

With a shrug of imperious dismissal, Roel swung away into his opulent car.

Hilary drifted back to the present to discover that while she had been lost in her thoughts Roel had contrived to regain his natural colour and was upright again.

‘Should you be standing?’ Hilary queried, watching him set down the phone he had been using.

‘We’re going home,’ Roel imparted, ignoring the question.

In search of support, Hilary looked in dismay at the consultant. ‘Dr Lerther?’

The older man aimed a stiff smile at her. ‘There is no physical reason why your husband should remain at the clinic.’

‘Naturalmente…the other problem will vanish,’ Roel pronounced with supreme confidence.

We’re going home. Home? For goodness’ sake, where was home? Caught totally unprepared for the development, Hilary followed Roel out to the lift, which swept them down to the ground floor. There she learned that the case she had left at reception had already been stowed in the transport awaiting them.

‘So where were you when I crashed my car yesterday?’ Roel enquired a tinge drily.

‘In London…er…I have a business there,’ Hilary answered in an undertone while she frantically wondered what she was supposed to do or say next for she had no script on which to act. Nothing was as she had assumed it would be. He was walking wounded, conscious, but by no stretch of the imagination was he himself.

A limousine with tinted windows sat outside the clinic. A chauffeur doffed his cap. She climbed in and sank into a seat upholstered in rich hide leather. She struggled not to gawp at the astonishing luxury of the car interior.

‘How long have we been married?’ Roel drawled softly.

Without looking at him, Hilary breathed in deep. ‘I think it’ll be more relaxing if I don’t force-feed you facts—’

Roel reached out a lean brown hand and closed long, sure fingers over hers. ‘I want to know everything—’

Startled by the ease with which he had touched her, Hilary could not prevent her fingers from trembling within the hold of his. ‘Dr Lerther said that telling you things that you didn’t really need to know would just complicate matters—’

‘Let me decide what I need to know,’ Roel incised without hesitation.

‘I think Dr Lerther has your best interests at heart and I don’t want to risk your recovery by going against his advice,’ Hilary confided unevenly, for that physically close to him for the first time ever she was a bundle of nerves.

‘That’s nonsense.’

‘In a few days you’ll have remembered it all for yourself,’ Hilary pointed out in urgent consolation, appreciating how much more that scenario was likely to appeal to him. ‘It would be better that way…much better.’

In her eagerness to convince him that patience was his best option, Hilary finally dared to glance up. She met his dark golden gaze in a head-on collision. Her mouth dried and her heart pounded like crazy.

‘And in the short term?’ Roel prompted in his dark, deep drawl.

His delicious growling accent seemed to shimmy down her sensitive spine and set up a chain reaction through her tense body. She was welded to the spot by the electrifying gold of his appraisal; her mind was a blank. ‘The short term…?’ she parroted like someone who had never heard the expression before.

‘You and I,’ Roel specified with a low-pitched laugh that sent the colour flying up into her cheeks while she stared up at him with eyes the same shade as winter skies. ‘What do I do with a wife I’ve forgotten?’

‘You don’t need to do anything. You just trust her to l-look out for you,’ Hilary stammered, fighting with every fibre of her being to suppress her embarrassing lack of self-control around him. Why was she hanging on his every word like a lovelorn schoolgirl and gaping at him like a star struck fan? She was infuriated by her own weakness. Her role was to be a supportive friend, nothing more, nothing less. But the sheer thrill level of just being alone with Roel seemed to have stolen her wits.

‘Look out for me?’ Roel studied her from below black spiky lashes. She was planning to look out for him? In all his life he did not think that he had ever heard anything more naive or ridiculous. Yet he said nothing because she shone with sincerity and good intentions.

‘That’s what I’m here for…’ Hilary extended, but she could hardly find her voice to make that added assurance for her vocal cords were threatening to let her down. His proximity and the casual confidence with which he touched her were sending her brain into freefall.

Even as she spoke Roel raised a hand to let his forefinger trace the luscious fullness of her soft pink lower lip and that did nothing to cool her temperature. Indeed, where he touched her skin seemed to tighten with an awareness so acute it almost hurt to experience it. Leaning closer without even being aware of it, Hilary gave an almost imperceptible gasp as her nipples hardened into stiff straining points below her tee shirt.

‘You’re trembling…’ Roel murmured huskily. ‘But then why not? This is a stimulating situation.’

‘I beg your pardon…?’ Hilary whispered, convinced she had misheard him.

‘A wife I’ve forgotten,’ Roel quipped, watching her with eyes as bright and tough as metallic bronze. ‘A woman with whom I must have shared many intimacies but who appears to me at this moment in the guise of a complete stranger. It’s a sexually intriguing concept, cara mia. How could it be anything else?’