Читать книгу Memo: The Billionaire's Proposal - Melissa McClone, Melissa Mcclone - Страница 8

UNDRESS him? Chaney’s heart pounded in her ears. Surely she had misunderstood. “You want me to…”

“Help me out of this armor,” Drake finished for her. “I don’t know where Russell ran off to, and you’re the only one left.”

She glanced around the drawing room, now deserted. Where had everyone gone? The room had been bustling with activity a few minutes ago.

He stared at her, an expectant look in his brown eyes.

Face it, Gemma wouldn’t think twice about helping him. Neither should Chaney. He’d made a reasonable request, and she was acting as if he’d asked her to his room for a night of hot sex. Sure, the man oozed sensuality, but just because he’d wanted her once didn’t mean he wanted her now.

Time to stop overreacting and do her job.

Chaney straightened. “What do you want me to do first?”

“Come with me.”

She fell in step with Drake, noticing he shortened his stride to match hers. He’d always had lovely, rather Old World manners. She remembered the handkerchief he’d once offered her. Of course, that had been right before he propositioned her.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To my room.”

Her heart bumped. Okay, he was inviting her to his room, but sex was not on the agenda. Hers or, she hoped, his.

No worries, Chaney told herself. She’d heard he was staying in the king’s bedchamber and knew only a staircase led to the suite, not an elevator. He probably didn’t feel like stripping out of the armor and carrying it up to his room. She wouldn’t, either.

No big deal going up there with Drake. She would help him out of the costume then head to her room for some much-needed and wellearned sleep.

She yawned. The jet lag had finally caught up with her. “Will this take long?”

“It shouldn’t,” he said.

Relieved, Chaney stepped through an arched doorway into a hallway of stone. Stone walls, floor and ceiling surrounded her. Electric torches illuminated a circular staircase in front of her. She shivered. Those stone steps led to one place—Drake’s room.

Stop being melodramatic. No big deal, remember. It wasn’t as if she were going to be locked away in a tower cell with him. She was just going up there to help him undress. Chaney gulped.

Drake gestured up the narrow staircase. “After you.”

“Thanks, but I don’t know the way,” she demurred. “My flight was delayed so I missed the taping of the guest rooms this morning. Is it true Henry VIII slept in the king’s bedchamber?”

“That’s what they say.” As Drake ascended, his armor and chain mail clanked. The sound echoed through the stairwell. “He seems to have slept his way across England.”

She followed Drake up. “He did have six wives.”

“Six too many.”

“Divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived.” Chaney repeated the rhyme she’d memorized back in school. “I’m sure at least half of them would agree with you.”

“All of them should.”

The disdain in his voice surprised her. She remembered what he’d said earlier today in the great hall. “So you’re not interested in settling down or in marriage?”

“Beheadings, divorces and deaths sound about right when it comes to matrimony.”

“Don’t forget one of Henry’s wife survived those fates.”

“Sheer luck.” He glanced back at Chaney. “I prefer better odds.”

His take on marriage brought a twinge of disappointment, but she didn’t know why. “Don’t you want a family?”

He shrugged. “I have no time for a family.”

“Someday then?”

He continued up the stairs, all armor and wide shoulders. “Perhaps, but I don’t see it happening.”

“You never know what might happen.” The torches flickered like candles, casting shadows through the stairwell. She touched the wall, the stone cool and rough beneath her palm. “It almost feels as if we’ve gone back in time.”

“Except this castle has electricity, heating, indoor plumbing and Wi-Fi.”

“My kind of castle.”

“Mine, too,” he admitted. “Though there is something to be said for a time when men were men. That isn’t always the case today.”

Armor aside, Drake was as manly as men came. “Many of those men didn’t live to see middle age, let alone old age.”

“True, but at least there were rules and codes to battles as well as relationships. That had to make things easier.”

“Easier doesn’t sound very romantic.”

“Let me guess.” His lighthearted tone teased. “You’re one of those romantic women who enjoy hearts, flowers and violins.”

“Well, I’m not all that into hearts and violins, but I do like flowers. If that makes me one of those romantic women, so be it.” She climbed the stairs behind him. “I do believe true love exists.”

“Love may exist,” he admitted. “But I don’t think it lasts long in the real world or really offers much.”

“My parents are still together after thirty-two years of marriage,” Chaney countered. “I doubt they made it that far by simply liking each other.”

“Like can go a long way. As can habit.” Drake reached the top of the stairs. “But I hope for your parents’ sake and for Gemma and Oliver’s, that their love lasts.”

Maybe Drake wasn’t all that bad. He obviously cared about Gemma’s happiness and future, but his words still bothered Chaney. “So you’re not a full-blown cynic about love.”

He stood in front of a massive wood door, looking every inch the lord of the manor or, in this case, king of the castle. “I prefer to think of myself as a realist.”

“We should agree to disagree, then, because I feel totally removed from reality right now.”

Smiling, he pushed down on the door handle. “Then enjoy the fantasy.”

The words Drake and fantasy did not belong in the same sentence. Okay, the guy might be a total hottie and physically appealing, but Chaney disagreed with everything he said about the subjects of love and marriage. Even though she didn’t want to settle down now, that didn’t mean not ever. One day she hoped to experience the kind of love that lasted, the forever kind. And she would never want to date a man who had such different views on relationships from her. Not that Drake wanted to date her.

He opened the door.

“You don’t lock your room?” she asked.

“Can’t. No place to put the key.”

“You could have asked one of us to hold it.”

“The castle is secure. The production crew top rate. Even the locals we’ve hired seem like excellent workers.” He held the door for her. “Besides I don’t have anything that can’t be replaced.”

Chaney tried to understand his way of thinking. Tried and failed. “One of the perks of being wealthy, I’d imagine.”

“For me, yes.” He didn’t sound boastful, simply honest. “Others might disagree.”

“Several others, I’d imagine.”

“Yourself.”

It wasn’t a question. “I don’t have expensive jewelry or electronics with me, but what I have I’d like to keep.”

“If I were yours, I’d want to be kept.”

Her cheeks warmed. Chaney crossed the threshold to his room so he wouldn’t see her blush. She couldn’t imagine Drake allowing any woman to keep him. Especially her. “Wow. Now I know what the production coordinator meant when she called this room opulent.”

No expense had been spared in decorating the suite, a series of rooms, each of which was larger than Chaney’s one-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles. She stood in the sitting area, where a fire burned in the hand-carved fireplace. The golden flames added warmth and a romantic atmosphere.

Not romantic, she corrected. Nothing about her being her could be construed as romantic. She was here to do a job, nothing else.

Still she caught a glimpse of the bedroom off to her right. Gold and Wedgwood-blue silk curtains hung from a large canopy bed, a bed fit for royalty, heads of state or a corporate raider. Coordinating pillows made a pair of overstuffed chairs placed beneath an arched window look even more luxurious.

“This suite is so lavish,” Chaney said.

“It is rather regal looking.” He removed his gauntlets and placed them on a round table. “If you like it so much, we can trade rooms.”

“Thanks, but I’m happy where I am.” Coming back to England had been a good move, even with seeing Drake again. She’d been handed a golden excuse to miss the housewarming party at her sister’s new house this weekend. No having to tell friends and family she still didn’t have a boyfriend and that she wasn’t jealous her sister was living in a beautiful house in Malibu with a view and a guesthouse. Nope, this was much better than that anyday. “You belong here. This is the king’s bedchamber.”

Drake bowed. “I am but a mere knight, my lady.”

“A king in knight’s clothing.” And with a kingly bed. Chaney noticed the bedding had been turned down. The sheets must be at least 400-count Egyptian cotton. “You shouldn’t sleep anywhere but here.”

“It is a comfortable room.”

“Comfortable? It’s so spectacular I’m afraid to touch anything. I bet that table-and-chair set is worth more than I am.” She pointed the clipboard toward a four-foot-high vase on her left. “That vase probably costs more than my annual salary.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We were required to take out a large insurance rider in order to use the castle and grounds for the show. You’re safe.”

She didn’t feel so safe. Her gaze strayed to his inviting bed. Her bed would look just as good, she reminded herself.

“It’s late.” Chaney’s heavy eyelids kept wanting to close. The sooner she got to her own room, the better. She set her clipboard on the table. “Let me help you out of your costume so we can get to bed.”

“My bed or yours?”

Heat flamed her cheeks. “You know what I meant.”

“I always like to make sure and remove any doubt. It saves me from misunderstandings down the road as well as missed opportunities.”

“You’re not missing anything with me.” The words tumbled from her mouth. “I mean…”

Amusement gleamed in his eyes. “What do you mean, Chaney?”

He sounded so cool and collected, as if having a member of the opposite sex in his room after midnight was no big deal.

Okay, it probably wasn’t to him.

Still, the way he stood there looking sexier than anyone had a right to look dressed like a character from a summer blockbuster movie irritated Chaney.

No, he irritated her.

And that’s when she realized…

She was still angry with him for what happened five years ago, for shattering her illusion of him. She’d wanted to find her Prince Charming back then. She’d wanted him to be Drake. Instead she’d returned home and met Tyler, a man totally opposite from Drake. A man she’d thought had loved her. At least, he’d claimed to love her until he met Simone.

Chaney tucked her hair behind her ears. “How do you remove the costume?”

Drake lifted his left arm and pointed with his right hand. “Buckles are hidden underneath. They attach the armor pieces. You have to undo them.”

Okay, that didn’t sound difficult.

As she walked toward him, heat hit her. Not from the fireplace, but from Drake. She knew he was hot, but not literally. Heat emanated from him. His scent, sweaty, musky and male, filled her nostrils.

“I’m looking forward to getting out of this costume and into a shower,” he said.

She did not want to think about him naked with warm water shooting down on him. She glanced at the bed again. Thinking about him there probably wasn’t a good idea, either.

Chaney pulled apart the armor plates to find the buckles. “All I want to do is sleep.”

“That bed does look…inviting. They even left chocolate on the pillows.” He stared down at her. “Two chocolates.”

Uh-oh. She undid a buckle. “The staff may have assumed you’d have company.”

“I do. Are you interested?”

Her fingers fumbled. “What?”

His eyes danced with laughter. “In a chocolate.”

“I’m not company. I work for your company.” Unfastening another buckle, her fingertips brushed the chain mail underneath. “How many layers are you wearing?”

“A few, but once the chain mail is off, I can handle the rest. Unless you’d rather help with that, too.”

Her fingers trembled. No way would she respond to him. Anything she said would come out wrong and might even sound as if she were interested in helping with…more. She pressed her lips together.

Chaney focused on the armor, not the man underneath it. She caught glimpses of chain mail, a quilted shirt, dark hair. Intriguing images. Tempting impressions. Ones she ignored. She unbuckled the pieces around his chest and shoulders and placed each in a special container sitting on the floor of his room.

She knelt at his feet to remove the lower half of the armor. Reaching around his thigh, she found her hands between his legs and her head much too close to his, um, codpiece.

“I appreciate this, Chaney,” he said as if she were tying his shoes, not practically fondling him as she tried to reach a buckle. “I know you’re tired.”

She kept her eyes focused on the buckle, not allowing herself to look anywhere else. Or touch any part of him. “Almost done.”

Please, oh, please let me be almost done.

She hurriedly undid the buckle. Unfortunately, three more needed her attention and kept her in the uncomfortable, embarrassing position.

“All done,” she said finally, laying the last piece of leg armor into its spot in the container.

“Thank you.”

Chaney turned. The words “you’re welcome” died on her parted lips.

Drake stood wearing chain mail that molded his muscular shoulders, arms and chest. The metal shirt fell to his hips. Talk about hot.

She swallowed.

He was every woman’s fantasy and her worst nightmare. But that didn’t stop her knees from going weak and her blood from boiling.

“The chain mail attaches in the back,” he said.

Chaney forced herself into action. She fumbled with the first hook. Her fingers wouldn’t do what she wanted them to do.

She blew out a frustrated breath.

Darn the man.

His soft-looking hair tempted her to touch it, to see if the strands would curl around her finger.

“Having trouble?” Drake asked.

He had no idea. “I’m getting there.”

Or would. As soon as she reminded her traitorous body and out-of-control hormones she wasn’t interested in Drake Llewelyn. He couldn’t give her what she wanted: a forever kind of love. Not to mention she was taking a break from dating, from men.

An almost two-year break, a voice—maybe her heart—mocked.

Shut up.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

Oh, no. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Sorry, I was just trying to quiet the voices in my head.”

“What were they saying?”

“That it was past my bedtime, but don’t worry. I won’t leave until the job is finished.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

Chaney didn’t understand his confidence in her when she wasn’t sure she could count on herself in this situation.

Finally the snap came undone. Slowly, much too slowly for her liking, she opened each of the remaining ones. “They’re all unsnapped.”

“Can you help me out of it?” Drake asked.

“Sure.” Her voice sounded stronger than she felt.

“Open the back.”

As she did as he asked, Chaney realized how much the chain mail weighed. He shrugged out of the shirt so it rested on his upper arms.

“Now come around in front of me,” he said. “Be careful, it’s heavy.”

Chaney held on to the shirt as he pulled one arm out and then another, never once leaving her to hold the entire weight of the chain mail.

He placed it in the container. His damp, quilted shirt clung to him. He pulled the tails out from the waistband of his pants. “Much better and cooler.”

Maybe for him.

“I should go.”

“Stay.” One soft word in that sexy, accented voice.

She sucked in a breath. “But we’re done.”

His eyes lit again with that wicked, wicked laughter. “Darling, we’re just getting started.”

He walked—no, strutted—toward her, the set of his jaw full of purpose.

Drawn to his strength and heat, Chaney leaned toward him. She tilted her chin.

His gaze smoldered. His lips parted.

Chaney stood transfixed.

Drake stopped in front of her.

She could barely breathe, let alone think. She stared up at him, confused, afraid, attracted. He lowered his mouth to hers.

He was going to kiss her.

The realization ricocheted through her brain. She wanted him to kiss her. Badly. Except…

She ducked her head and stepped back so the only thing his lips touched was air.

“I should so not be surprised by this.” Her voice sounded shrill. She didn’t care.

His head drew back. “Excuse me?”

“I probably shouldn’t ask, given your reputation, but why would you choose to make a move on me now, when you know I’m so tired?”

“I thought you wanted me to kiss you.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Why would you think that?”

“The way you leaned toward me. The tilt of your head. The look in your eyes that said kiss me.”

Oh, boy. Shame flooded her. She’d done all those things and probably more. “I’m sorry if I misled you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” His smile could have charmed a starving mouse out of its last nibble of cheddar. “We can try again. Let me show you what you missed out on five years ago.”

Sex. That was all he’d ever wanted from her.

Anger surged. Disappointment, too. She glanced to the bed and back at him. “In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m not about to be another notch on your bedpost or wherever else you keep track of your conquests.”

“If that’s all I felt about you, Chaney, I wouldn’t be here.”

Even though she was upset at him, his words piqued her curiosity. “What are you talking about?”

“I decided to host this episode so I could see you again.”

The air in his room sizzled. Drake saw a mix of disbelief and hope in Chaney’s eyes. He wanted hope to win. That way he would win, too.

“You thought I was married and you still wanted to see me?” she asked.

“See you, yes. Nothing else.”

“And if I hadn’t agreed to fill in for Gemma?”

“But you did and you’re here. Not to mention unmarried.” He moved closer to her. “We’ve been given a second chance, Chaney. Let’s make the most of this opportunity.”

She put her hands on his chest to stop him. “Why don’t you park yourself at the round table and cool down.”

Her anger confused him. He hadn’t expected that reaction.

She walked away from him. “You can’t actually expect me to believe you.”

“What I said is true.”

Chaney gave him a look. “I only agreed to fill in for Gemma a few days ago. I realize you have enough money to have a custom suit of armor built for you at the last minute, but unless you’ve found a miracle formula to grow that much facial hair overnight, I’d say you spent well over a week on your beard. Probably longer than that.”

Damn. Most women would have pretended not to see through what he’d said and play along, but not Chaney. Drake didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused by the turn of events. “You may have misunderstood my intentions.”

“Oh, no. Your intentions are quite clear, but I want to make sure you don’t misinterpret mine.”

Forget annoyed. The way she dismissed him so easily and the strength she exhibited were total turn-ons.

She continued. “I’m sure whatever lines you normally use on women must work pretty well or you wouldn’t be so confident, but just so you know, nothing’s happening here tonight, tomorrow or any other day we happen to be in the same place.”

No one ever challenged him like this. Maybe he should try another tack or perhaps cut his losses and send her on her way. The truth was he really didn’t want her to leave. “Would you believe your being here gave me a reason to look forward to this weekend?”

Her clear, sharp eyes told him she wasn’t about to be swayed by empty words or careless compliments.

Guilt lodged in his throat. “I’m sorry to have dragged you up here.”

The tightness around her mouth told him he should be sorry. She picked up her clipboard from the table and headed toward the door.

“I’ll walk you to your room,” he offered.

“And tuck me in?” She pursed her lips. “No, thanks.”

“I don’t want you getting lost.”

“I’ll do fine on my own.”

“You said you hadn’t been to this part of the castle before.”

“I can find my way down a lit stairwell.”

The set of her jaw told him she wasn’t about to back down. Early in life, he’d learned what battles were worth fighting. He knew this one wasn’t. “Okay, you win.”

For now.

Her tired eyes widened behind her glasses. “I didn’t know it was a competition.”

“Life is a competition.”

“Only if you turn it into one.”

Chaney may be tired, but her mind was fully functioning. Still, he’d taken up enough of her time for tonight. Drake opened the door for her. “Thanks for your help. Get some sleep.”

Not looking back at him, she fled down the staircase into the shadows.

Once she was out of sight, Drake closed the door.

Frustration gnawed at him. He hadn’t been this off his game since Chaney’s going-away party in London. But that experience hadn’t left him feeling so damn guilty.

Regret swept over him. He’d taken advantage of her helpful nature to get her to his room. Not that she’d allowed him to take advantage of the situation at all.

He hadn’t liked how she turned him down the last time, given her near hero worship of him five years ago, but he’d understood she wanted more than he was offering.

Tonight, however, stung. He rubbed his chin, still not used to the hair against his fingers. She’d been angry and dismissive. Something had changed. She had changed.

I’m on hiatus from…investing.

He knew who to blame….

Her stupid jerk of an ex-fiancé-turned-brother-in-law.

The guy must have hurt her bad. Her sister, too.

Drake grimaced.

Chaney might be a romantic, but she was a wounded one who needed to learn how to have fun again. That was why she reacted the way she had to his overtures.

All he had to do was figure out how to show her she needed some fun. She needed him.

Not an impossible task.

He’d done it before, with companies he’d purchased, by showing them he had something they needed. He would do the same thing with Chaney. A win-win situation for both of them.

And he knew exactly where to start. Drake picked up the telephone and pressed the button for the staff line.

“Good evening, Mr. Llewelyn,” a propersounding male voice said. “What may I do for you?”

“Please deliver a large bouquet of flowers to Miss Sullivan’s room tomorrow. In the morning, if possible.”

“Roses?”

“No,” Drake answered quickly. She would take roses the wrong way and rightfully so. “A mixed bouquet will be fine.”

“What would you like written on the card, sir?”

He thought for a moment. “’Friends’ with a question mark.”

The man repeated the phrase.

“That’s correct.”

“I’ll take care of this straight away, sir.”

“Thank you.” Drake hung up the phone.

Friends would be the perfect place to start with Chaney. Friends could have lots of fun together.

Staring at the armor she’d neatly put away for him, he smiled.

And if things worked out the way he planned, he and Chaney would be more than friends very, very soon.