Читать книгу Desire And Deception - Miranda Lee - Страница 9

JADE surveyed her reflection in the mirror with mischievous satisfaction. Melanie had come through with a navy linen suit that would have looked ghastly if Jade had worn the white silk blouse with the tie at the throat that went with it. Instead, she’d filled the deep V neckline with a lacy pink camisole rescued from the depths of Auntie Ava’s wardrobe. The dear old thing had also produced a pair of dainty pink sandals with outrageously high heels, a relic from her partying days.

Digging deep in her own drawers, Jade had come up with some pink multi-disc earrings which she’d adored as a teenager but which hadn’t seen the light of day since. Oddly enough, they looked very effective with her new short blonde hair.

The combination of the sedate and the saucy produced a highly tantalising whole, which hinted—as Melanie and Ava had suggested—but was still sexy at the same time. Of course, Jade couldn’t resist the naughty little added touches, such as painting her toenails a vibrant pink, then leaving off tights. She’d also turned over the waistband of the knee-length pleated skirt a couple of times so that the hem swirled mid-thigh when she turned around. She made a mental note to turn around often.

Only once during her dressing did Jade’s mind whip back to the distressing events of the previous evening. Melanie had lent her a bra—they were around the same size—but Jade found her bruised breasts too sore to tolerate the constriction. For a moment, as she was forced to face her physical damage, fear swept in again, but this was swiftly followed by a bitter fury. Being a quivering victim was not Jade’s style. She gritted her teeth and vowed she would not let some pervert damage her mind. He could damage her body—that would heal!—but not her mind. Her mind was her own. She refused to have it warped or twisted. If she did, she might end up like her mother. Now there was a warped and twisted mind if ever there was one!

So with her freshly shampooed and moussed hair teased to its maximum height on top of her head, and enough Spellbound perfume on to cast a thousand spells, Jade swanned downstairs and along to the formal drawing-room where Melanie said her father was having pre-dinner drinks with his guest. The grandfather clock in the hall donged seven-thirty as Jade passed. Dinner had been ordered for eight.

Both men were sitting down when she sashayed in, her father on the green velvet sofa that faced the fireplace, while Mr Cool occupied one of the overstuffed brocade armchairs that flanked the marble hearth. There were no guesses which one drew her attention first.

Hell, but he looked as lethally attractive sitting there, sipping his drink, as did the drink he was sipping. By the colour, it had to be straight Johnny Walker. Jade conceded she could have done with a stiff drink herself right at that moment, her courage in danger of failing her. What was it about this man that rattled her so—the fact that she fancied him so badly, or that he didn’t fancy her at all?

She resisted licking suddenly dry lips and kept moving into the room, her skirt swishing around her bare legs, her eyes still on Kyle Armstrong, waiting for—no, hoping for—a favourable reaction to her vastly changed appearance.

His eyes lifted as she approached, locking with hers. They remained perfectly steady, showing nothing in their coal-black depths that she could read. But he didn’t turn his eyes away and oddly she gained the impression he was challenging her, no, compelling her to keep looking at him. Suddenly she felt the power of his mental strength, and her knees almost went from under her. This most uncharacteristic weakness unnerved Jade, unnerved then annoyed her.

Gathering herself, she shot him a bold smile, hoping to ruffle his equilibrium as much as his gypsy-eyed stare had ruffled hers. But he didn’t smile back, merely lifted his drink to his lips again, keeping up his cool assessment of her over the rim.

Jade found her smile fading and an amazing blush heating her cheeks. Totally rattled now, she wrenched her eyes away from him to land on her frowning father, who couldn’t seem to make up his mind whether he liked how she looked or not. She appreciated his ambivalence, and found amusement in it, thank heavens. She needed something to break this awful tension that had been invading her since entering the room.

‘Good evening, Father, dear,’ she said, abandoning her usual address of Pops. ‘Kyle,’ she added, inclining her head their guest’s way without actually meeting his eyes.

Both said good evening back as she continued over to the rosewood drinks cabinet, where she mixed herself a triple Scotch and ginger ale, taking a deep swallow before returning to make the twosome a far from cosy threesome.

Her father clicked his tongue impatiently when he had to move his cane for her to sit down next to him. ‘Did you finish whatever it was you had to finish?’ she enquired casually, crossing her legs and tucking her ankles back toward the base of the sofa.

‘I think we tied up everything to our mutual satisfaction, wouldn’t you say, Kyle?’ Byron conceded, his reply not really telling her anything.

‘Yes, indeed,’ came Mr Cool’s equally uninformative remark.

Piqued, Jade decided to put this chauvinistic pair on the spot. ‘Auntie Ava says Kyle is going to be the new head of marketing at Whitmore Opals—is that right?’

‘Damned woman,’ Byron muttered under his breath.

Jade laughed. ‘Did I hear right, Father, dear? Are you calling me a woman at last?’

His hard blue eyes turned her way. Clearly, he would have liked to tear strips off her for her impudence, but the presence of a guest stopped him. With a great effort of will, Byron relaxed back on the sofa and found a smile that should have warned her what was coming.

‘A real woman is more than a set of curves, daughter, dear,’ he said with poisonous pointedness.

‘So true, so true,’ she returned airily after taking another deep swallow of her drink. ‘And a real man is more than an impressive set of—er—muscles. Don’t you agree, Kyle?’ she finished, flashing him a mock-innocent smile.

Good God, was she imagining things or was that actually a twinkle of amusement in those implacable dark eyes of his? His mouth, however, maintained its habitual straight line, though he did cover it slightly by lifting his drink to his lips once more.

The glass retreated and yes, his mouth was as unmoved as before. ‘I most certainly do agree, Jade,’ he said smoothly. ‘And you’re right about that other matter as well. Byron has offered me the position as marketing manager and I have accepted.’

Most Australians didn’t move their lips much when they spoke. Kyle Armstrong, however, had a surprising mobile mouth when he talked, his voice clear, cultured and well enunciated, like an actor. It drew one’s attention to his mouth, and his lips.

Intriguing lips, those, Jade realised, her gaze fastening on them, the top one thin and cruel, the bottom soft and sensual. Which was the real man? God, she just had to find out. But how? He wasn’t at all impressed by her. Or interested.

Or was he?

Her eyes lifted to that enigmatic gaze of his, only to find it fixed on the expanse of tanned thigh she was showing. Jade’s heart began to beat faster. Maybe he was a little interested. Maybe he was just good at hiding it. Maybe it was only her father’s presence that stopped him from showing any interest. What was he wondering while he looked at her legs? Was he speculating what it might be like to get lost between them?

Jade found herself pressing her thighs tightly together, appalled by the escalating explicitness of her thoughts.

So this was lust, she thought dazedly.

This was one of the seven deadly sins.

No wonder people fell prey to its seductive power. She’d never felt so excited, so driven.

Once again, she started hoping that Kyle might be married, so that she had a good reason to fight this alien force that was possessing her.

‘Are you married, Kyle?’ she asked abruptly.

‘No,’ he said, his brows drawing slightly together as his eyes lifted to hers. ‘Why do you ask?’

Perversely, she was relieved by the news, which didn’t augur well for her future behaviour. Jade suspected she was about to embark on a course of action even more outrageous than any she’d ever been accused of. ‘I was just wondering what your wife—if you had one,’ she added with a husky laugh, ‘might think of her husband moving interstate for a job.’

‘How did you know that...?’ The corner of his mouth tipped up into the tiniest of rueful smiles. ‘Ah...your Auntie Ava again?’ he suggested drily.

‘Of course.’

‘I’ll never tell that infernal woman another damned thing!’ Byron pronounced testily from the other end of the sofa.

‘Poor Auntie,’ Jade muttered before rounding on her father, her voice sharp. ‘Why all the cloak and dagger stuff, anyway? Who’d care if Mr. C—?’ She broke off, her eyes widening. My God, she’d almost called him Mr Cool out loud! Clearing her throat as a cover, she said ‘excuse me’, then sipped her drink. A fit of mad giggles sprang to her throat but she managed to stifle the urge and continue in a surprisingly normal voice. ‘I was going to say why shouldn’t other people know about Kyle’s appointment?’

‘Because I don’t want Celeste Campbell to get wind of it, that’s why!’ Byron snarled.

Jade raised her eyebrows. She often wondered what had happened between her father and Celeste Campbell to make their relationship so vitriolic on his side, and continuingly vengeful on hers. Celeste was, in fact, Jade’s aunt, being her mother’s half-sister. Her mother, Irene, had been Stewart Campbell’s first-born child, but his wife had passed away within weeks of Irene being born and the widower Campbell had subsequently remarried and had two more children, Celeste and Damian.

Jade found the antagonism between her father and Celeste Campbell quite perplexing. The ancient feud between their fathers, David Whitmore and Stewart Campbell, was well known, though not the reason behind it. Something to do with an opal, she had heard once, a very valuable one which had disappeared or something.

Whatever, after the two men passed away, her parents’ marriage had seemed to heal the rift between the families to a degree. Enough, anyway, for the old animosity to die down to nothing but normal competition between business people who shared a common trade. Apparently, however, when Celeste had taken control of Campbell Jewels about ten years ago, she’d found cause to resurrect the old feud between the Campbells and Whitmores.

It was a mystery all right and one which she didn’t think she’d ever solve. Her father was not about to confide in her. Neither was Celeste Campbell. Maybe they just hated each other’s guts. Or, more likely, Jade’s mother had stirred up some trouble. Irene had bad-mouthed Celeste every chance she got.

‘I doubt Ms Campbell could do much more to Whitmore’s than she’s been doing,’ Jade commented wryly.

‘You don’t give an enemy any advantage,’ her father snapped.

‘But why is she your enemy, Father? What did you do to her, or vice versa? I’ve always wanted to know.’

‘I do not wish to discuss this topic at this juncture, thank you, Jade. Kyle doesn’t want to hear our family dirty linen aired, I’m sure.’

Dirty linen? That sounded intensely personal and far darker than anything she’d been imagining.

Jade stared at her father for a second before recovering. ‘I’m sure Kyle would like to be acquainted with the nature of the competition between Campbell’s and Whitmore’s. He needs to know what he’s up against.’

‘He already knows what he’s up against. Celeste Campbell is a conniving, ambitious, vengeful bitch who will stop at nothing to ruin me. There’s no more to be said!’

Melanie’s entering the room at that precise moment to announce dinner was a frustration to Jade. For there was a lot more to be said. The frown on Kyle’s face showed he agreed with her. Maybe he was even having second thoughts about the difficult job he was taking on. Jade suspected that if the family had had to rely on the profits from Whitmore Opals over the past few years they would be in deep financial straits. Fortunately, during the good years, both Grandfather Whitmore and her own father had diversified their investments into property and blue-chip stocks and shares.

Not that Jade had to rely on her family—or her father—for money any more. When she’d turned twenty-one last year, she’d inherited a substantial income from a trust her grandmother had set up for her before she was even born. This had been added to with her mother’s recent estate, which included a lot of valuable jewellery.

Unhappy about taking anything from her mother, Jade had left the jewels to languish in the family safe. Thinking about them now, she decided she would give them all to Auntie Ava. The poor dear had to ask Byron for every single cent, her big brother having been made executor of her inheritance till she married, a most unsatisfactory arrangement for any self-respecting female. No wonder she buckled under his will all the time. She would advise Ava to sell some of the jewellery and do something with the proceeds. Go to a proper art school. Or take off on a world cruise. Who knew? Maybe she’d even meet her Prince Charming if she got out and about. And maybe she’d lose some weight!

‘This way, Mr Armstrong,’ Melanie was directing their guest in her cool, slightly imperious manner. ‘I hope you like lamb...’

Jade was left to help her father struggle to his feet. ‘Here, lean on me, Pops,’ she offered.

‘So it’s “Pops” now, is it?’ he frowned. ‘What happened to “Father dear”? Or was that only to impress our visitor?’

‘Naturally,’ she grinned, and hoisted her father’s arm around her shoulders. He grunted with real pain when his weight shifted across his bad leg.

‘I’ll bet you signed yourself out of that hospital too soon, didn’t you?’ Jade accused.

‘Bloody hospitals should be banned. Torture chambers, all of them.’

Jade laughed.

‘You have a nice laugh, daughter, do you know that?’

‘You certainly haven’t told me before. Watch the edge of that coffee-table!’

They watched it together as she manoeuvred Byron into clear territory. The drawing-room was rather cluttered with a myriad antiques and expensive knickknacks.

‘You’re strong, aren’t you?’ Byron commented with surprise in his voice. ‘You have broad shoulders. Must take after your father.’

‘Part of what you’re feeling is shoulder pads,’ she said, not sure how to take this shift in the conversation. If she didn’t know better, she might think her father was trying to make up with her after their last row, not to mention his earlier rudeness.

‘I can manage by myself now,’ he said curtly, as though embarrassed by his conciliatory behaviour and taking it back. ‘Hand me my cane.’

She did. Smiling.

He caught the smile and smiled back.

Jade’s heart contracted. Why did she love him so much when he was such a cantankerous bastard, and when he lived his life by typically male standards? Did he honestly think she believed that one incident had been his one and only transgression with other women while her mother was alive? Good God, just look at him! Fifty years old with a bung leg and a scowling face and he’d still stop most women dead in their tracks at a single glance. His body was still hard, his head still full of hair. And those hard blue eyes were so damned sexy it was sinful.

‘You’re a good girl,’ he said. ‘Underneath. And you look very nice tonight.’

Jade’s smile widened.

‘What’s the private joke?’ he demanded to know.

‘It was the underneath part. I still haven’t got a bra on, you know.’

‘No, I didn’t know. And neither would any other man looking at you in that rig-out, which is exactly how it should be. The only man who should see a woman’s bare breasts is her husband!’

‘I’ll keep that in mind, Pops.’

Jade resisted telling her father that the last thing she was ever going to have was a husband. Marriage, in her books, was not the key to eternal happiness. She couldn’t deny men filled a necessary niche, every once in a while. But as a daily diet?

Good God, no. Marriage was not for her. No way. She did her own thing, ran her own race, thank you very much. Imagine being married to someone like Mr Cool. In no time, he would be telling her what to wear, how to act, how to vote, even! Men like him couldn’t seem to help taking on the role of bossy-boots. The poor darlings actually thought they knew best, that the world would stop spinning if they didn’t spin it personally.

No, she was not interested in marrying Kyle Armstrong. She simply wanted to sleep with him. There! She could admit it now and not tremble with shock. And if she could wangle a position for herself at Whitmore Opals at the same time, then so much the better!

The grandfather clock slowly and sombrely donged eight as they passed, as though giving her a grave warning about something. Jade ignored the omen. She didn’t believe in such things.

* * *

Eight o’clock found Gemma finding a temporary sanctuary in the swimming-pool. She stroked up and down, up and down, wishing she could recapture the euphoria she’d felt earlier that afternoon in Nathan’s arms. But reality had come back with a rush and it was impossible to stop all the doubts and fears from crowding her mind.

What was everyone in Belleview going to say when she and Nathan announced one day in the near future that they were married? Maybe Byron wouldn’t be too surprised—she had an odd feeling he already knew there was something between herself and Nathan. Neither would Ava or Melanie be too shocked. But they wouldn’t be at all pleased. They might start thinking she was a little schemer, that she’d inveigled her way into Belleview in order to entrap Nathan into marriage.

She could perhaps endure that. Kirsty’s reaction, however, loomed as a major problem. Nathan’s daughter was going to feel betrayed. Gemma had become the girl’s friend, more than her minder. How was Kirsty going to react when she found out Gemma had married her father, the father she still hoped would be reconciled with her mother?

Gemma hated even thinking about it. She also hated having to pretend there was nothing between herself and Nathan till they were safely married. She’d always believed honesty was the best policy. Deception and lies were wrong.

But Nathan insisted they keep their relationship a secret till after the event. He wanted no fuss, he said. No arguments. People would try to talk them out of marrying if they knew beforehand.

Which people? she’d asked as soon as Kirsty had left the house to go to the movie marathon with her friends. Was he talking about Byron? Ava? His daughter? His ex-wife? Was it himself he feared could be talked out of the marriage. Or herself?

Nathan hadn’t really answered her. He’d diverted her questions by making love to her yet again. Afterwards, while he was in the bathroom, she’d slipped on her swimming costume and fled to the pool, anywhere where she could think. The suspicion that Nathan might deliberately have used sex to silence her arguments was now teasing the edges of her mind, and, while she automatically shrank from the idea, Gemma found it wouldn’t let go. If anything, it was growing.

A splash behind her had her feet searching for the bottom of the pool. But she was at the deep end, so she was madly treading water when Nathan swam underneath her feet and surfaced in front of her.

‘I couldn’t find you,’ he said, slicking his hair back from his handsome but angry eyes. ‘Why didn’t you tell me where you were going? I wouldn’t have known where you were if I hadn’t looked out of the study window.’

‘I...I needed some air,’ she answered breathlessly, already feeling tired. She wasn’t the strongest swimmer in the world. If there hadn’t been a learn-to-swim programme at school she never would have learnt at all. Lightning Ridge did not abound in water.

‘Have you changed your mind?’ he asked coldly. ‘About getting married.’

‘No, of course not. It’s just that it isn’t going to be easy. I...I’m worried about what Kirsty’s going to say.’

‘Kirsty will adjust. So will everyone else. Just do as I say and everything will be fine. Here, you’re sinking. Put your arms around my neck and wrap your legs around my waist.’

She went to do so but jerked back as though stung. ‘You’re...you’re naked!’

‘Uh-huh. And so will you be...once I get you out of this strait-jacket.’

Gemma gasped as her breasts burst free of her costume, Nathan peeling the purple maillot downwards till it was dragged right off and let go of, to float away. For a while she trod water again, her flapping arms and legs making her even more aware of her abrupt nudity. She glanced nervously around, happy to see that the trees and shrubbery around the edges of the garden gave them privacy from neighbors. The sun had not long set but the evening was warm. Stars twinkled overhead in a clear sky. A half-moon bathed the water in its soft glow.

‘I...I’m not used to this kind of thing,’ she babbled.

‘I know,’ he said, and caught her to him.

His mouth was wet and warm and wild. Gemma wanted to push him away, to say she had things she needed to talk about, but she soon ran up the white flag. Making love with the man she loved was too new and too wonderful and too exciting to replace with serious discussion. That could wait, she supposed. After all, they did have all night.

With a sigh, she moved to fit her body to his, to entwine her arms and legs around his hard lean torso. Nathan groaned deep in his throat and clasped her even closer. Gemma’s head whirled and she pushed all thought of Kirsty aside. It was a night made for love, a night made for lovers. She would worry about tomorrow...tomorrow.