Читать книгу Australian Bachelors: Masterful Magnates - Miranda Lee - Страница 9

LARA became aware of light, when her subconscious expected darkness, and there was the tantalizing drift of fresh coffee teasing the air as she shifted in bed and slowly opened her eyes.

The hotel suite, Wolfe … Each descended in a heartbeat.

The small banker’s-lamp glowed on the desk where Wolfe was seated, keying data into his laptop.

What was the time? Her watch … where was it?

She checked the bedside pedestal, saw the offending timepiece and snatched it up.

Six.

The markets. She was in danger of missing the early-morning fish market.

In one swift movement she threw back the bedcovers and rose to her feet, then she quickly pulled on jeans and dragged on a sweatshirt.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

Wolfe’s silky drawl drew a fraught glance in his direction as she slid her feet into trainers.

‘Going to the fish market,’ she said without thought to her voice, or its return. ‘I should have been there an hour ago.’

The sedative she’d taken had to have been responsible for her sleeping through the alarm. Or, she reflected hurriedly, given the night’s events, had she even remembered to activate it?

Whatever; it hardly mattered. Her main priority was to reach the markets before the fishermen loaded up their catch and began their deliveries.

‘Call in an order.’

‘That’s not how I choose my supplies.’

Deft fingers smoothed her hair into a ponytail, then she reached for her jacket, collected her shoulderbag and crossed the room. Only to find Wolfe blocking her way.

Clad in jeans and a cotton tee-shirt, he exuded a raw masculinity … heightened by the fact he had yet to shave, and the dark stubble added a primitive air she endeavoured to ignore.

‘Enlighten me.’

‘Personal selection ensures good quality,’ she elaborated. ‘And I prefer wholesale to retail prices.’

He let his gaze travel over her features. ‘You’ve had less than five hours’ sleep.’

‘So what else is new?’ She wanted to hit him, and for a brief second she considered it. Except there was a warning stillness that boded ill for any retaliatory action.

‘Can we have this argument later, rather than now?’

Without a further word he shrugged into a jacket, collected keys, wallet, and the room keycard. ‘Let’s go.’

She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again and followed him out to the bank of lifts.

Lara was aware of the concierge calling up Wolfe’s car, whereupon she gave Wolfe directions as they traversed slick wet streets, and a short while later they caught sight of fishmongers loading what was left of the catch.

Without a word she slid from the car and hailed two men by name as she raced towards them.

Wolfe cut the engine and emerged into the cool morning air, to lean lazily against the Lexus as Lara went into action, watching as she offered apologies and issued a plea to view and select her restaurant’s daily order of fresh fish, lobster, local crustaceans and prawns.

Wolfe witnessed the men’s expressions change from irritation to philosophical acceptance, and glimpsed Lara’s answering smile as they conceded her choices.

A short while later Lara returned to the car, and he straightened to his full height.

‘I gather you saved the day.’

She had, at wholesale prices. The alternative, if she’d been any later, would have meant buying at inflated retail cost. ‘Thanks.’

‘That’s it?’

‘For now.’

‘Why do I get the feeling there’s more?’

She crossed round to the passenger side, and relayed the day’s schedule as she opened the door. ‘I get to have an hour’s sleep, grab breakfast and hit the restaurant around nine.’

He leaned an arm against the roof and regarded her carefully. ‘Not today.’

‘Today.’ She slid into the seat, aware he copied her actions.

He fired the engine, and cast her a piercing look. ‘It’s not negotiable.’

‘The hell it isn’t.’ Her eyes sparked blue fire as anger rose to the surface. ‘Our deal, for want of a better word, begins when we sign the marriage certificate.’ Which, God willing, wouldn’t happen for another week or more at least.

She needed time to adjust to the idea of sleeping with him. Oh, get it right … intimacy. Even the mere thought elevated her pulse-rate and did strange things to her equilibrium.

If only she could indulge in the physical, and hold her emotions in check. Engage the body, but close out the mind.

Fat chance. He’d engaged her emotionally from the moment she’d first met him … something which hadn’t changed in a decade.

And now she would soon take his name, share her body with his, and attempt to pretend it was OK.

The early-morning rain shower had ceased, and the grey dawn subsided as the sun began colouring the landscape.

Light traffic traversed the streets, and within minutes they reached the hotel.

‘I’ll go work out in the gym,’ Wolfe indicated as he unlocked the suite.

Lara inclined her head as she toed off her trainers and shed her jacket, then she set her watch alarm and backed it up by requesting a wake-up call.

While she did that, he exchanged his jeans for sweats, caught up a towel and slung it over one shoulder, then he exited the suite as she crawled beneath the bedcovers.

A short morning nap was so much a part of her daily routine she was asleep within minutes.

The next thing she knew was the sound of the alarm buzzing in tandem with the insistent peal of the phone relaying her wake-up call, and she reached for the handset, closed the alarm, swung her legs out from the bed … and saw Wolfe unloading their breakfast tray onto the table.

‘Hi.’

‘You had no trouble sleeping?’

He’d showered, shaved and exchanged sweats for tailored trousers and a business shirt left unbuttoned at the neck.

‘The habit of years,’ Lara managed evenly.

He examined her features and the tumbled ash-blonde hair drifting onto each cheek. There was evidence of faint bruising beginning to emerge on the underside of her jawline, and he masked a momentary surge of anger.

With her, for neglecting to fill him in with the finer details of precisely who she’d owed money to and when it had been due for payment.

Wolfe pointed at the table. ‘Come and eat while the food is hot.’

Lara rose to her feet in one fluid movement and automatically loosened the tie holding her hair in place. ‘Give me a few minutes.’

She collected fresh clothes and attempted to ignore the way her stomach executed a backwards flip as she moved past him.

He disturbed her more than she was prepared to admit, and there was a sense of temporary relief as she reached the en suite.

In a matter of minutes she was done, and she emerged feeling better equipped to face whatever the day might bring.

Lara couldn’t pinpoint the last time she’d had a cooked breakfast, and she slid into a chair as Wolfe joined her at the table.

Coffee—hot, black and sweet—was liquid ambrosia, and she forked a portion of eggs Benedict, savoured it, then continued eating with renewed appetite.

‘First up this morning is a legal appointment,’ Wolfe began. ‘Followed by various real-estate inspections.’

‘You intend buying a house?’

‘We need somewhere to live.’

The plural ‘we’ caused sensation to spiral deep inside, and she took a soothing sip of coffee, then carefully placed the cup down onto its saucer. There was the home Darius and Suzanne had shared …

‘No,’ Wolfe refuted quietly, accurately reading her thought pattern. ‘That isn’t a consideration.’

If he insisted on adding to his property portfolio, why should she attempt to argue?

‘After lunch we’ll fit in some shopping before I meet with Darius’ managerial staff.’

He worked fast, she accorded silently. Although what else did she expect?

Her chin lifted a little as she met his gaze and held it. ‘You could have checked with me first. The restaurant is operating on minimum staff. I have to be there. There’s no one else to take my place at such short notice.’

Wolfe’s gaze narrowed. ‘Find someone.’

‘Sure.’ Her eyes blazed a brilliant blue. ‘I’ll just wave a magic wand and, poof, a sous chef will appear out of nowhere, ready to start—’ she checked her watch ‘—in half an hour.’

His expression didn’t change, and the smooth silkiness in his voice held a silent warning. ‘Take care of it, Lara.’

‘Or you will?’

One eyebrow lifted in silent cynicism. ‘Yes.’

Time out for a deep breath or three. ‘Hiring someone,’ she managed with attempted calm, ‘is my responsibility.’

‘Make it a priority. A celebrant will conduct our marriage on Sunday morning, after which we fly to New York.’

Her stomach executed a quick somersault and refused to settle. ‘Excuse me?’

Wolfe leaned back in his chair and regarded her steadily. ‘You heard.’

The nerves deep inside pulled tight almost to the point of pain, and she pushed her plate aside. ‘Do I have a choice?’

‘No.’

Succinct, adamant and spoken with an indolence that made her wary.

‘Why? My presence in New York will be totally unnecessary. You’ll be wheeling and dealing by day, and—’

‘Sharing your bed at night.’

Did hearts stop? She was willing to swear hers had. What was more, for several long seconds it seemed her whole body shut down. Then she remembered to breathe.

‘Payback time,’ she managed. ‘How could I have forgotten?’

‘Should I be flattered or flattened?’

Lara summoned a deliberate smile. ‘Flattened, definitely.’

His faint laughter sent goosebumps scudding down her spine. A reaction she refused to examine in any detail.

In order to survive, living with Wolfe would mean adopting a façade. Something she shouldn’t find too difficult, given she’d had practice presenting a sociable mask on the occasion she’d found herself in Wolfe’s presence.

‘Finish your coffee.’ He checked his watch. ‘We need to leave.’ Without a further word he crossed to the console and collected a set of keys.

She wanted to protest, and almost did. Except one look into those dark grey eyes was sufficient warning she couldn’t win.

He moved in close and pressed a forefinger to her lips. ‘Don’t push it.’

Within minutes she slid her feet into comfortable shoes, applied lipgloss, then caught up her shoulderbag and accompanied Wolfe from the suite.

The legalities were straightforward; the lawyer’s explanation merely endorsed Wolfe’s instructions, and the pre-nuptial agreement drawn at Lara’s insistence absolved Wolfe from providing her with anything other than a home, and a generous allowance. Any children issuing from the marriage would become their joint financial responsibility.

Signatures were applied to various documentation and duly witnessed, the lawyer offered his congratulations and best wishes … and it was done.

Sunday. Dear heaven. Five days.

Don’t think about it, she cautioned silently as she accompanied Wolfe down to the car. Just take what each day throws at you, and achieve what you can.

Not the best scenario for someone who coveted perfection in most things. Especially finding a suitable sous chef in so short a time.

Or the number of things quickly escalating in her mind as Wolfe eased the Lexus out of its parking bay.

‘Is there a close relative you’d like to witness our civil ceremony on Sunday? Your father, perhaps?’

Suzanne had been an only child; there were no aunts, uncles or cousins. Just her father … a man who’d declined to attend his ex-wife’s funeral, and was unlikely to accept an invitation to his daughter’s wedding.

‘No.’

It didn’t take long to reach the Rocks, and she released the safety belt as soon as he slid to a halt adjacent to her restaurant.

She reached for the door latch. ‘Thanks.’

‘Call my mobile phone when you’re done for the evening.’

Lara paused in the process of closing the passenger door, a refusal on the tip of her lips, only to have him lean towards her.

‘Do it, Lara,’ he reiterated, and she simply pushed the door closed and filched a set of keys from her bag.

The rest of the day proved hectic, with a discrepancy in produce supplies necessitating phone calls and an adjustment to the lunch menu.

The title ‘chef’, in Lara’s instance, covered a broad spectrum as she checked food preparation, utilized her cooking skills, took care of business, and ensured everything ran smoothly to plan.

Temperament, swearing and hissy fits were not tolerated, and the motto in her kitchen varied from ‘just do it’, ‘suck it up’, to ‘customer satisfaction rules’.

The team comprised junior chefs and wait staff who worked well together, surmounting the inevitable daily hiccup with minimum angst and occasional humour.

By early afternoon Lara had apprised the staff of her temporary absence in New York, her marriage, and provided assurance their jobs were secure.

News which both Shontelle and Sally refused to accept without voiced concern, and they urged a confrontation as the staff returned to their positions.

‘Like, why … and why the rush?’ Sally quietly demanded.

‘Wolfe has to get back to New York, and he wants to get married before we leave.’

‘I can go with that. Except there are holes in the overall story,’ Shontelle pursued with a faint frown.

‘Uh-huh,’ Sally agreed. ‘You’re not exactly the ecstatic, starry-eyed bride-to-be. So what gives?’

They deserved her honesty, for they’d worked together, shared much, and had provided unstinting support when Paul, her business partner, had left her financially bereft.

Lara provided the expurgated version, encapsulating it in one sentence, and went on to explain, ‘I hated that my trust in Paul was totally misplaced … ashamed he managed to fool me so successfully. I’ve fought hard to hold on to Lara’s … something I couldn’t have managed without your support, and your willingness to go that extra mile for me,’ she added with sincerity. ‘I care for Wolfe, and I know he’s an honourable man with whom I’ll share a pleasant life. Our forthcoming marriage is a sensible solution,’ she concluded.

‘And you’re OK to settle with sensible?’ Sally queried with concern. ‘If he gives you grief, he’ll pay—big time,’ Sally promised.

Shontelle added fiercely, ‘When do we get to meet him?’

‘For the visual once-over and a verbal third degree?’ Lara teased.

***

A few phone calls resulted in two interviews arranged for mid-afternoon, each applicant presenting an impressive CV … although proof involved follow-up calls to their current or previous employers, which if satisfactory then relied heavily upon a hands-on trial. Something she organized to occur over the next two consecutive days.

Evening reservations ensured efficient handling in the kitchen. Not an easy task when operating on minimum staff.

However, they managed—just—and shortly after nine the orders for mains lessened and progressed towards desserts and coffee.

‘Party of five, and a gorgeous hunk—solo,’ Sally imparted with an appreciative rolling of her eyes as she presented their order. ‘On a score of one to ten, he’s an eleven.’

Lara merely lifted speculative eyebrows, checked the order and set to filling it.

Sally made a humorous game of according scores to the attractive men frequenting the restaurant.

‘Going to spread some charm.’ Sally grinned as she filched a bottle of still water from the display refrigerator then exited the kitchen.

Good luck, Lara offered silently as she seared a medallion of eye-fillet steak, selected the appropriate sauce and arranged the accompanying salad.

‘Think I’m in love,’ Sally enthused when she returned, and Lara shot her a telling look. ‘Yeah, I know. Like he’s going to even look at me. But a girl can fantasize.’ A telling sigh emerged, accompanied by a feigned dreamy expression.

‘You’re a riot.’

Sally offered an infectious grin as she collected the order. ‘Helps pass the time, darling.’

So it did. Lightening the load when stress threatened to reach the stratosphere, as it did, for one reason or another, on a reasonably regular basis.

Lara had worked the evening with efficient speed, clearing her mind of everything except the essential need to pay attention to detail, and the individual touches that made each dish on the menu special.

Events of the past few days were beginning to take their toll, and she rolled her shoulders in an attempt to ease the muscles in her upper body. Battling a tension headache didn’t help, and she looked forward to closing down for the night and sinking into bed.

Last night a medically prescribed sedative had ensured a good night’s sleep. What would the coming night bring?

Oh, for heaven’s sake! Take a reality check!

Sex with Wolfe was a given. It was just a matter of when. So get over it!

He was a man … like any other.

Sure he is.

A mental, mischievous little imp laughed uproariously until she silently chastised and banished him.

Lara stifled a faintly audible groan, and her hands flew as she gathered a dessert plate, cut a perfect portion of cheesecake, drizzled tangy strawberry sauce in a decorative pattern, added fresh flute-cut strawberries and placed the plate on the serving shelf.

Soon Sally would be able to handle the orders for tea and coffee, and Gina could move into the kitchen to help clean up.

Lara glanced towards the door as Shontelle entered the kitchen and moved close. ‘Compliments to the chef from gentleman at table seven.’

OK, so she’d swing by, smile, exchange a few words with their regular clientele and acknowledge the compliment.

It took a few minutes as she paused at one table, then another—until she saw just who was seated at table seven.

Wolfe, here? What game was he playing?

‘Don’t tell me,’ she managed equably as she reached his side. ‘You were at a loose end, and decided to observe my restaurant first-hand?’

‘No. I finished late, hadn’t eaten and decided to dine here instead of ordering room service.’

She tilted her head to one side. ‘I guess that’ll fly.’

‘Join me for coffee.’

She offered a slight mock-curtsy. ‘The kitchen awaits.’ A faint smile teased the edge of his mouth. ‘I’ll take a rain check.’

He did, until the last patron left, then Lara had no option but to effect an introduction to the remaining staff—which, she suspected, had been his intention—and at his request Shontelle retrieved two bottles of champagne.

The celebratory toast was almost surreal. So too were the voiced congratulations.

‘Wow,’ Sally accorded in a quiet aside. ‘His score exceeds ten, twice over. I hereby withdraw almost all reservations.’

It was midnight when Lara closed and locked the restaurant. Wolfe’s black Lexus was stationary at the kerb, and Lara evinced concern as Sally bade them goodnight.

‘Are you sure you’ll be OK?’

‘I’ve been taking the late train since for ever,’ Sally assured. ‘Long before you moved into the same street.’

Wolfe indicated the Lexus. ‘We’ll give you a ride.’

The city never slept, it merely quieted down some, traffic lessened. The distance to Darlinghurst was achieved in minimum time, during which Sally, bless her, never let the conversation lull.

‘Thanks. See you tomorrow.’

Wolfe waited to engage the transmission until Sally disappeared indoors, and Lara leaned back against the head-rest as he turned the car towards the inner city.

She was conscious of Wolfe’s appraisal later as the hotel lift sped quickly to their high floor.

‘You didn’t need to wait until the restaurant closed. I could have caught a train.’

‘DO you particularly want to argue?’ Wolfe queried as he slid the keycard into place and opened the door.

Right at that minute all she wanted to do was shed her clothes, take a long, hot shower, then tumble into bed.

‘No.’

‘Wise.’ Wolfe tossed keys onto the bedside pedestal, then shrugged out of his jacket.

Lara toed off her shoes, then she collected her nightwear and moved into the en suite.

It was bliss to stand beneath the spray of steaming water and let it ease out the kinks, and it was several long minutes before she picked up the soap, lathered and rinsed it off.

Wolfe was standing at the desk, scrolling through data on his laptop, when she emerged into the room, and he pressed ‘save’ then closed down.

He noted her pale features, the dark circles beneath her eyes. ‘Take something for that headache.’

‘I don’t need you to play nurse.’ Or my keeper, she added silently. Except that was precisely what he’d become. Rescuing her from certain personal and financial disaster.

His eyes darkened a little, and her pulse kicked into a faster beat as he moved close.

‘I trust you’ve organized your replacement?’

Lara closed her eyes against the sight of him, then slowly opened them again. ‘You want to exchange a recap of each other’s day?’

‘A simple yes or no will do.’

His silky-voiced drawl shivered the length of her spine, and her chin tilted a little in silent defiance. ‘Two interviews, with two trials over the next two consecutive nights.

Satisfied?’

‘Not entirely.’

Fleeting indecision shadowed her eyes, then it was gone. ‘Tough.’

He covered the few steps necessary to reach her, and she viewed him warily as he lifted a hand to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, then she swallowed compulsively as he trailed gentle fingers down one cheek.

‘What are you doing?’

The edges of his mouth curved a little as he lowered his mouth to hover a mere inch from her own. ‘You need to ask?’

His lips brushed hers, teased a little, and her heartbeat leapt as he traced the lower curve with the tip of his tongue, then ventured in to begin an erotic tasting that attacked her resistance and tore it to shreds.

She felt his hands slip beneath her tee-shirt and cup the slight curve of her buttocks, squeeze a little, then one hand slid up over her ribcage to capture her breast.

A faint groan emerged from her throat as he brushed one tender peak, then rolled it gently between thumb and forefinger.

Wolfe felt his senses quicken, and he deepened the kiss as he sought her response, caught the hitch in her breath and her capitulation. And he wanted more … so much more.

His arousal was a potent force, and he sought the soft curls at the apex of her thighs, the moist heat there … and felt her body go rigid.

He stilled as she wrenched his mouth from his own, and when she pushed against him he released her to arm’s length. ‘Please—don’t.’

His eyes narrowed and became impossibly dark. ‘That wasn’t the message you were giving me mere seconds ago.’

Because she’d craved his touch and didn’t think! Damn it, she’d never been able to think when he was anywhere close.

Something he’d always known, and she was willing to swear he’d taken pleasure in taunting her vulnerable emotions with a look, the touch of his hand, the light teasing brush of his lips to her cheek in welcome whenever he’d flown in from the States. The occasional kiss that came close to getting out of hand …

The times she’d taken his actions as deliberate … and hated him afresh for it.

‘A few days, Wolfe,’ Lara reminded him. ‘Will it be such a hardship to wait until I have your ring on my finger?’

He inclined his head. ‘If you insist.’

It hurt that he acquiesced so easily.

Sex, she reflected a trifle bitterly. That’s all it is to him. So get over it.

Without a further word she crossed to the large bed she’d nominated as her own, lifted the covers and slid beneath them.

Habit ensured she activated the alarm on her watch, and her eyes widened as he began shedding his clothes.

For a moment she was transfixed by the sight of him, the smooth flex of rippling muscle and sinew with each movement, as he pulled his shirt free from his trousers and discarded it.

Next he loosened his belt, undid the clasp at his waist and slid down the zip fastening.

Oh hell, she was no voyeur, and her lashes swept down, remaining closed until she heard the faint rustle of bedclothes as he occupied his bed.

‘You’re quite safe.’

His faintly inflected drawl held a tinge of amusement, and she turned to look at him as he crossed his arms above his head.

She was aware of the faint drift of exclusive cologne, the faint, male muskiness … The pulse at the base of her throat leapt to a faster beat.

Safe?

Did he have any idea how her body reacted to him? All her skin cells seemed alive and begging his touch. Something she found difficult to control, and totally at variance with the dictates of her brain.

‘The loan shark has been paid off.’

‘Thank you.’

She should feel relieved, and she did.

Really.

Except, with every step she took, it felt as if she was merely exchanging one form of debt for another.