Читать книгу Socialite's Gamble - Michelle Conder, Michelle Conder - Страница 11

AIDAN SAW A flash of pink hair and one long slim leg before the limousine pulled away from the kerb, its tail-lights blinking in the gloomy night.

Amazing. The woman he had thought a cheap tourist at best could afford a limousine. Or perhaps she’d had a rich lover waiting outside.

With legs like hers it was probably the more likely scenario. Long and golden brown. He had no doubt they’d be smooth to the touch and his hand would have no trouble sliding all the way up to those tiny shorts. He imagined her breathless little gasp as he slid one finger inside the leg of those shorts and teased— What the …?

He pulled himself up short as he realised he was turning himself on.

Rubbing at the space between his eyes he shook his head. He must be going mad to fantasise about a woman like that.

A woman who wore clothes that revealed more than they hid. Well, okay, her purple blouse had been loose and only hinted at the small, high breasts beneath, but it had been designed to make a man think about exactly what they would look like underneath. And those shoes? If they hadn’t been created with sex in mind, he didn’t know what was.

Oh, she had been advertising, all right, and although his body had perked up with interest at her wares he’d had no intention of taking the bait. He was in Vegas for one night and one purpose and it had nothing to do with bedding a woman.

He buttoned his jacket against the cold and glanced around for his limousine. His HR manager had assured him that it would be waiting at the kerb as soon as he exited the main terminal and he was a man who knew how to do his job.

Noticing a white sign on the damp pavement he walked closer and saw that it had his name printed on it.

His gaze narrowed. Why would a piece of cardboard with—Son of a … She’d stolen his limousine!

Aidan stared at the section of road the large car had long disappeared down and knew his mouth was hanging open.

He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his emails to get to the one that would hold the information about which car company his HR manager had used. Unfortunately he already had over one hundred new emails and he didn’t have the patience to find it.

Gritting his teeth and silently imagining every way he could slowly dismember the lanky pink-haired waif he would hunt down as soon as he’d completed his business in Vegas, he raised his eyes to the darkening sky.

There were too many grey clouds for him to locate the moon but he was sure if he could it would be full. Usually, he wasn’t a superstitious person but how else to explain a day that had started out great and gone downhill at a rate of knots. First his PA had quit, claiming he was too hard a taskmaster. Then his trip to Sydney airport had been plagued by an impromptu demonstration against the live export of animals—a worthy cause he might have contributed coin to had they not held him up for so long—only to arrive at the airport to find his plane had mechanical issues and had been grounded. The only available flight out of Sydney for Vegas had one seat available.

And it hadn’t been first class.

Not that he was a snob. Far from it. He’d grown up in a low- to middle-class home and didn’t start travelling first class until he had turned his father’s business around in his early twenties.

No, it wasn’t coach per se that had bothered him but being squashed into a seat his tall frame didn’t easily accommodate and trying to work during what should have been a sixteen-hour flight while others slept or watched movies. Then there had been the small child who kept poking its fingers through the back of the seat and dislodging his paperwork on the tiny tray they called a table.

He sighed wearily. His currently dishevelled state wasn’t exactly the way he had planned to greet his nemesis, Martin Ellery, but okay, he’d make it work. A part of him had been considering some sort of revenge against this man for fourteen years and it had become all-consuming twelve months ago when his father had passed away.

Tonight it would happen, and no matter how many obstacles got in his way Aidan wouldn’t countenance failure. Had, in fact, never failed at anything in his life. And he couldn’t fail at this because he had promised his father on his deathbed that he would get back at the man who had ruined his life. And a promise was a promise. Something meant to be honoured.

Unfortunately the Chatsfield casino house rules were very specific on this night that would pit some of the best and wealthiest gamblers against one another. If you missed the start of play you couldn’t join the game.

He checked his watch and his agitation grew.

Just when he was contemplating the possibility of hiring a helicopter a cavalcade of taxis came into view and the line of weary commuters cheered.

A crumpled but chic businesswoman paused before getting into the first cab. She looked at him.

Aidan had seen that look on women’s faces plenty of times before and he’d already noticed this one eyeing him off for the past five minutes.

‘Would you like to share?’ she asked.

The offer was for more than a taxicab and they both knew it. But he could allay her of that expectation on the way into town.

‘Sure.’

Thirty-nine minutes later Aidan was clean-shaven, dressed in a black suit and black dress shirt—no tie because he hated them—and paused in the doorway to the Chatsfield Hotel’s prestigious Mahogany Room.

It was opulent, but he already knew that. Large crystal chandeliers sparkled off polished mahogany wood panelling and a curved bar with fancy velvet stools lined the far wall. The room was already half full and scented with the faint traces of Cuban cigar smoke and the sweet scent of too many perfumes mixed together. It wasn’t his usual world, but looking at him now—carelessly poised for action—no one would guess he was about to destroy another man’s livelihood.

Ice clinked in a glass and Aidan surveyed the elegant crowd. A few of the men he would play against were already seated at the main table. Martin Ellery wasn’t one of them. Aidan glanced around the room. Where was the slimy bastard anyway?

And then he saw him and his heart skipped a beat.

Because he wasn’t alone. He was standing to the side of the bar with none other than the pink-haired waif who had stolen his limousine!

Aidan’s eyes swept over her. She looked surprisingly classy in a fitted black dress that skimmed her light curves to midthigh. She had on stockings—or would they be those high-topped ones that clung to her thighs and didn’t require a garter belt—what were they called? Stay-ups?—and another pair of skyscraper heels. It took his brain about point four seconds to jump to him seated on a king-size bed with her standing before him in just those stockings and heels.

Damn.

To his mind there was only one reason a woman was in the high-rollers’ room of a casino. She was either looking to pick up a rich man, or she already had. That might be a gross generalisation he was sure the women’s libbers would want to slice him in half for but he didn’t care.

He had been a wealthy man for long enough to know the score. And this woman—this car thief—was on the make, any moron could see that.

He recalled the uppity curse she had delivered at the airport as sweetly as if she had been blessing his firstborn child. He nearly smiled. Then Ellery leaned closer to her.

Had Ellery already laid claim to her?

It wouldn’t surprise him. His last wife hadn’t been dead eighteen months but even before she’d died it had been rumoured he’d moved on. Loyalty was not a word Martin Ellery knew the meaning of, or cared about.

His and Ellery’s paths hadn’t crossed for about that long and Aidan doubted they’d have much to say to each other tonight. Ellery would know better than to try. He knew Aidan loathed him.

And for some reason he loathed the way the older man kept stroking the back of his car thief’s hand in a brief caress that told any other male watching that she was unavailable.

A sick feeling rose up in his stomach. No doubt if she was with Ellery he’d brought her to the game for good luck. Unfortunately it would take more than a statuesque model type to bring him luck tonight.

His car thief stepped back and gave Ellery a flirtatious smile and Aidan was once again caught off guard by a powerful bolt of sexual awareness so hot it burned through his bloodstream. Watching her closely, he couldn’t figure out what exactly it was about her that drew him so intensely and he was mildly irritated by his reaction. Yes, she had a certain feline grace about her. A certain leggy beauty, but the girl had run off with his hire car and only a woman with no morals, or an over-exaggerated sense of entitlement, would do something like that.

Neither type appealed to him.

‘Can I get you a drink, sir?’

Aidan turned his head as a waitress stopped beside him.

‘No. I’m here to play poker.’ He noticed that Ellery had moved to the main table and the pink-haired car thief with the kissable mouth was now alone.

He wondered what she’d do when she spotted him.

Fortunately he didn’t have to wait long to find out. As if sensing his perusal she glanced up and around. He counted to six before her gaze collided with his. Keeping his expression intentionally bland he watched her eyes widen like Bambi facing down a pack of hungry mountain lions.

Oh, God!

He’d followed her.

Cara couldn’t believe it. And he’d gotten into the Mahogany Room which was invitation-only. Her heart raced at the sight of him. Did he know what she had done? That she had borrowed his car? But of course he must. Why else would he be here?

Everyone else in the room seemed to fade away as he continued to stare at her and Cara was aware of nothing beyond the beating of her own heart. And his eyes.

Standing just inside the doorway he was at once invisible and totally conspicuous. His aura alone dominated the busy room. Which shouldn’t have been possible in a place full of the rich and famous. Still, he did and she wasn’t the only woman who had noticed him. She could tell by the low murmur of appreciation by the women on her right that he was being favourably sized up as a potential catch.

And Cara had to get rid of him. Quickly, before the big game started and before he caused a scene that would get back to Christos.

Deciding that the best course of action was the direct one, she tried to still the jittery feeling in her legs and walked towards him.

The room felt like it had just tripled in length and she fervently hoped that he didn’t know that she had been the one who had taken his car.

Would the hire-car company have told him already?

Blast her impulsive decision to colour her hair so brightly. For once she’d be happy to be her normal boring self because a girl with muddy-brown hair would have been so much harder to locate.

But what if he wasn’t looking for her about the car? What if he still thought she was a working girl he’d decided to purchase for the night? A buzz went through her body at the possibility and she was horrified to find that despite everything she was actually totally attracted to him.

At some point she hoped that she would be able to laugh at the day she’d just had. Some point in the very distant future. Right now, though, she would forget all about her unhelpful hormones and the way his eyes shone like brilliant sapphires against his olive skin and black shirt.

Of course she felt sick the closer she came, her stomach clenching and unclenching like a giant-size fist, and when his gaze swept over her body her confidence completely deserted her.

She stopped directly in front of him but with enough room between them to fit at least two buses. ‘I’m sorry,’ she began a little breathlessly, ‘but this room is invitation only.’

His level gaze raked her face and then he smiled. ‘Ah, the woman whose shoe I broke.’

Cara’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of his rich, deep voice. ‘Well, you didn’t break it exactly.’ She let out a nervous laugh. ‘It was an accident. And you were right. I should have been paying more attention to where I was going.’

‘Generous of you considering it was I who ran into you,’ he said pleasantly. Too pleasantly.

He knows about the car, she thought a little desperately, her eyes searching his. She felt it with every guilty bone in her body.

Hoping her face wasn’t flushed even though she felt like it was pressed against a heating pad she told herself to calm down. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe it was her own sense of guilt making her feel paranoid. ‘Please, don’t mention it again.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Now, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to—’

She stopped speaking and stared up at his bemused expression.

Mr Kelly. Mr Kellllly.

Aidan Kelly?

Like one of the poker machines downstairs that had just hit the jackpot Cara’s brain lit up with where she had seen this man’s face before. Unfortunately he wasn’t some matinee idol; he was the Aidan Kelly of KMG—Kelly Media Group. The founder of some huge network TV station in Australia that had expanded to dominate the US entertainment industry and recently had something to do with British TV, as well. She couldn’t remember what, but she did remember he was as rich as they came and his influence was global. He was also rude and full of himself but … She swallowed heavily. ‘You have an invitation.’ Her voice came out as little more than a squeak and his smile grew.

‘Why else would I be here?’ he asked softly.

No reason, Cara thought wildly, no reason at all. No reason other than to play poker at her table.

She groaned inwardly. The night was ruined. She was dead. He would complain to Christos and then … She had to apologise. Had to admit to her desperate actions at the airport. Admit how late she had been, how desperate, how—

No, she wouldn’t let herself panic and ruin everything. Because what if he didn’t know and she admitted her mistake and made everything ten times worse. No, she would do what her brother Franco had taught her to do in situations like this and play the dead bat—an old cricketing term. Franco would be impressed that she had even remembered.

As plans went it wasn’t the greatest, but it would have to do until she came up with something better.

‘Well then, Mr …’

She let the silence fill between them as she waited for him to provide his name. His mouth kicked up at one corner. ‘Kelly. Aidan Kelly.’

Bond, James Bond had nothing on this man, she thought helplessly.

‘Well, I apologise for the misunderstanding, Mr Kelly, and am pleased to welcome you to the Mahogany Room. My name is Cara Chatsfield and—’

‘I thought I recognised you. Apart from the shoes, of course.’

Cara smiled and her lips felt like they were about to crack. ‘Yes, well. As I was saying, I’m the hostess for the game this evening so if you would like to follow me we’ll get underway.’

He fell into step beside her and Cara slowly released a pent-up breath. Maybe, just maybe, she was going to get away with this.

‘I apologise for being late,’ he said easily. ‘I was …’ Cara glanced up at him when he hesitated. His smile widened and her pulse raced. ‘Delayed at the airport.’

Oh, God. ‘Nothing drastic, I hope?’ she said a little too breathlessly.

‘No.’ He shrugged. ‘Nothing I can’t handle, at least.’ His smile turned lupine and Cara felt dizzy.

She knew her actions in taking his hire car were far from admirable and there was no use pretending she had done it because of a couple of small children. Yes, she had loved being able to get them in out of the cold, but really she’d been beyond desperate and she’d been smarting from his condescending attitude towards her.

The need to admit to what she had done made her stomach feel like it was full of battery acid, but something held her back.

She did plan to apologise. To explain that she had been stressed, upset … a little put off by his gruff manner. None of that was an excuse but … it had happened and she would deal with it. She would pull herself out of yet another mess of her own making. The big question was, when would she learn to stop reacting when someone formed a low opinion of her?

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow she would go to him and apologise. After tonight was over.

‘Yes, it was terribly busy, wasn’t it?’ she said briskly.

Having made her mind up to put off the inevitable, the only option left open to her was to keep pretending that everything was completely as it should be.

Feeling marginally better when he didn’t make another comment, she showed him to his seat on the raised circular dais that held the main table and plastered a serene smile on her face. When he handed her his jacket she reached for it, only to find it suspended between both their hands. The wonderful scent of spice and earthy man rose between them and when he didn’t immediately release the jacket she glanced up. His face was closer than she expected, his blue eyes deep pools of lethal sensuality. The heating pad that had attached itself to her face increased a few more degrees until her cheeks stung with it.

‘Oh, and, Miss Chatsfield?’

She blinked, unable to do anything but stare. ‘If you wouldn’t mind getting the phone number of the local police for me. I have an incident to report and I didn’t have time to do it before.’

Oh, God. This was it. She would once again be confirmed as the airheaded younger sister of the Chatsfield family. The naughty girl. The one who shouldn’t have even been there.

And she had no one else to blame but herself.

‘Incident?’ she said weakly, wondering if she threw herself at him and begged for mercy if he would listen. Then she remembered his icy disdain and arrogance at the airport.

‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ he said, finally letting go of the jacket to take his seat.