Читать книгу Be My Bride: The Right Mr Wrong / A Most Suitable Wife / Betrothed for the Baby - Natalie Anderson - Страница 15

FOUR

Cold showers. Many, many, cold showers. Showers to wake her up, showers to keep her awake and—most importantly—cool her down and keep her thoughts from straying into the forbidden hot zone. But that part of her feeling socially deprived needed some happy thoughts, so she mentally planned, listing the nightclubs she’d go to once the job was done. She’d head out on Saturday night when Liam was at that wedding. There’d be hotter looking guys than him at those clubs.

Liam.

Damn, she was thinking about him again. She bent closer to the huge sheet of card in front of her, narrowing her eyes as she prepared to write the next, the forty-fifth, name on the seating plan. She almost had the nib down when her phone rang.

Surprised, she lifted her pen quickly and checked. No blot or mark. Good. She scooped up her phone and put on her ‘professional’ voice.

‘Victoria Rutherford Design.’

‘How many have you done?’

She squeezed the phone hard so it wouldn’t slip from her fingers. Her heart squeezed harder. He’d always been an early riser and even over the scratchy connection she could hear his smile. ‘Pardon?’

‘Names on the table plan. How many?’

‘A few.’ Not enough.

‘How many?’

‘Who do you think you are?’ she said, trying to recapture some smarts. ‘I don’t have to report to you.’

He chuckled. ‘You never used to argue back. I remember you used to do everything anyone asked of you. Obedient and unquestioning. Eager to please.’

Victoria braced herself against the subtle suggestion in his last sentence. She hadn’t done what he’d asked her to. But she was hardly going to remind him of that. ‘Yeah, well, I’ve grown up a bit since then.’

She only did what others asked of her now if she wanted to. Like this work for Aurelie. Ultimately it was Victoria’s choice. But she knew part of her was still eager to please. She’d been so weak in Liam’s arms last night. If he’d asked she’d have done everything, and let him do anything. She’d wanted to please—and be pleased.

Not going to happen. Not with him. Not at this time. She straightened up from bending over her desk and twisted from side to side to ease the kinks and literally strengthen her spine.

‘Do some stretches,’ he instructed.

She froze. ‘Pardon?’

‘You’ll get stiff if you don’t take regular breaks. Walk around the room while you’re talking to me.’

She immediately bent back over her desk. ‘I just told you I don’t do everything anyone asks of me now.’

‘But this is for your own good.’ His amusement sounded louder. ‘Don’t take the independence thing too far. Just because it’s not you but someone else who suggests something doesn’t automatically make it a bad idea.’

Victoria tried to stiffen, to resist the sound of his smile. Him calling her like this was not good for her. ‘You don’t need to do this, you know.’

‘Do what?’

‘Act like you’re interested.’

‘Victoria,’ he chuckled. ‘It’s no act.’

Yeah, but it was only the one thing he was interested in. One thing, one night. He couldn’t have made it clearer. ‘Well—’ she gritted her teeth ‘—I’m only interested in finishing my job. And I need to get back to it now.’

She ended the call, afraid that if she didn’t she’d say something she shouldn’t. She drew in a deep breath and pushed it out in a sharp, frustrated sigh. She didn’t want him to phone and distract her. Yet part of her was glad he had. That part of her wanted him to think of her. To want her.

Because she still wanted him.

Fool.

She mocked herself. She wasn’t going to act on it. Instead she looked at the board.

One letter at a time.

Three hours later her phone rang again.

‘Time for another break,’ he said before she’d finished giving her name.

She pressed a fist to her chest, as if the pressure could settle her skipping heart. ‘What makes you think I haven’t been taking regular breaks already?’

‘I know the lengths you’ll go to, to keep someone happy. I remember you staying up almost the whole night to make enough streamers for Oliver’s mother to hang in the hallway.’

Oh, Lord. Victoria chuckled. She remembered that. The endless rolls of crêpe paper had nearly killed her. In the end Liam had come and helped her. He and Oliver and the others had gone down to the local pub for a few. Victoria had opted to stay and help. She’d needed some space from the stranger who made her feel so self-conscious with the way he watched her, teased her, tempted her.

The boys had got home late. Oliver had staggered straight up the stairs to his bed, drunk. Liam hadn’t. He hadn’t been drunk. He hadn’t left.

Victoria had determinedly kept on going with the darn decorations, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. But Liam hadn’t let her. He’d chatted—easily maintaining a one-sided conversation for the first fifteen minutes, until she’d got over herself and actually giggled. Then it had been a fun tease.

Until she’d tried to move out of the chair. She’d not realised how stiff she’d got sitting still so long, folding ribbons of the thin paper over and over.

That was when Liam had come to help. That was when he’d rubbed her shoulders to ease the ache. That was when he’d stood too close and touched too much and that ache had become a burn.

That was when he’d turned her in his arms and looked at her—

Don’t.

Victoria closed her eyes and banished the memories. ‘I’ve learned to take care of myself better now,’ she said briskly. ‘I even use a timer.’

‘So efficient.’ The old amusement was audible.

She didn’t want to hear that tease. It had always melted her, always made her smile. She should hang up—but she couldn’t yet. ‘How is your holiday going?’

‘It’s pretty frustrating.’

‘Oh?’ Her heart slammed against her ribcage.

‘There’s no water.’

‘Are you drowning on dry land?’

‘Pretty much.’

She laughed. ‘You get itchy when you’re away from the water too long.’

‘Yep.’

‘Why is that?’

He was silent for a moment and she knew he was actually seriously considering the question. ‘It’s my home.’

‘You’re a merman? Mr Atlantis?’ she joked lamely.

‘It’s where I’m free. It’s where I can be in control of my own destiny.’

‘You can’t be in control of your destiny on land like normal people?’

‘On land there are other people. In my boat, I’m alone.’

Solo sailor. He’d gone for months at a time without seeing anyone as he’d circumnavigated the globe solo. In his team events, he was the captain. Reliant on his crew, yes, but ultimately the one in charge.

‘You don’t want to have to factor anyone else into your life?’

‘I am that selfish, Victoria.’ There was none of the tease now, none of the amusement. It was a warning—as loud and clear as a foghorn.

But she didn’t know whether to truly believe him. The Liam she’d met five years ago had been fiercely competitive, fiercely determined. But he’d also been helpful. Yes, he’d been on the fringes, watching how Oliver’s family— and her family—played out. But he’d helped, he’d wanted to be involved. Was it merely to have something to do?

‘Why don’t you ask Aurelie if there’s something you can do to help her get organised?’

‘Not necessary. There’s a wedding planner here. She’s scary.’

‘Scary?’ Victoria chuckled. As if Liam would ever be intimidated.

‘Seriously scary. Check this out.’

A second later her phone pinged. She swiped the screen and smiled. He’d sent her a picture of the chateau. Uniform-clad minions were busy constructing a big marquee. There were white chairs everywhere. There was one ultra-efficient-looking woman in the middle of it all with clipboard in hand, wireless phone piece in her ear and her hair ruthlessly scraped back. She was very attractive in a headmistress sort of way.

‘She’s not scary.’ Victoria cleared her throat. ‘She’s gorgeous. And she looks like she’s fabulous at her job.’

‘She’s a robot,’ Liam answered shortly. ‘And she has everything under control. There’s nothing that needs doing.’

‘It looks like it’s going to be amazing,’ Victoria said.

‘It will be.’ He suddenly sighed. ‘So you’d better get back to your writing.’

Victoria held onto the phone for a couple of minutes after he’d rung off. Was his abrupt switch from joke to sigh because of that in-his-face wedding scene? Because of Aurelie?

Her skipping heart ached.

* * *

A few hours later Liam couldn’t help placing another call just to hear her voice. Over the phone she sounded blood-pumpingly breathy yet brisk at the same time. Just hearing her got him hard and he couldn’t resist it any longer.

‘I think you should take twenty minutes and come and see me,’ he said the second she answered. And what he really wanted was to see her come.

He’d been deliberately bold the other day. He’d wanted to bait her. Get a reaction from the woman who provoked him to insanity with just a glance. Get her to admit the vibe between them for once.

But he’d done more than provoke. He’d unleashed them both. He’d had to stop when he’d realised she wasn’t going to say no. It had nearly killed him to pull back, but it hadn’t been the right time. He didn’t want either of them to have regrets. But the right time was going to have to be very soon.

‘Twenty minutes?’ Victoria answered in an unim-pressed tone. ‘That’s all you want?’

He grinned. It’d be more like two given the state he was in. And frankly? He’d settle for anything now.

‘For the first round,’ he amended for form’s sake. ‘Then we could settle in for the rest of the night.’

‘Have you been drinking?’

‘You know I don’t.’ The way his father had drunk? Obliterating reality from his mind? He hadn’t been an abusive father in a physical sense, he’d simply been negligent. Never there. Either at the wharf or at the pub, he couldn’t have been less interested in his only child. Liam shook off the memory and focused on his much more appealing immediate future. ‘Why try to ignore the fact that the genie is out of the bottle?’

She’d said yes the other night. Not in words, but in actions—she was all the way to yes.

‘Throw another cliché my way,’ she answered snappily. ‘That one doesn’t work for me.’

He laughed. ‘When did you get so tough?’

‘I told you, I finally grew up.’

Had she? She’d been so sweet back then, soft and pretty and pleasing. She’d been all things to all people. She’d had to be—her parents had demanded perfection. Liam looked out over the gardens, his eyes narrowing as he wondered about how that whole thing had played out for Victoria. ‘How are your parents? Do you see them?’

There was a moment before she answered. ‘I see them occasionally.’

Her answer was too diplomatic, too reserved. ‘Are they unhappy about you and Oliver?’ He pressed the phone closer to his ear, trying to catch the nuances.

‘Very.’

Did they blame her? He bet they did.

Oliver had told him that Victoria had a sister who’d left home as a teen. A total rebel who’d fallen in with the kind of people Victoria’s family would have nothing to do with. So they’d then had nothing to do with her. The sister had become persona non grata—her name never mentioned, memories of her life expunged from the family home. And then Liam had watched Victoria—seen the way she’d deferred and smiled and obeyed. Too afraid to ever rock the boat. But she’d spoken up with him that first night when she hadn’t known who he was. Without fear she’d been a spitfire. In company, she’d been meek. It still annoyed the hell out of him. His annoyance grew at the thought of her parents blaming her for her marriage break-up. But he couldn’t resist asking her one last question. ‘Do you ever see your sister? Did you ever track her down?’

She’d wanted to. Working late on the crêpe decorations that night, she’d mentioned the sister—and that desire— so briefly after she’d asked about his background. Then they’d both changed the subject.

Now there was silence.

‘Victoria?’ he prompted.

‘Yes, we met up a while ago.’

She spoke too cheerfully.

‘Was it okay?’

‘It was fine.’

‘Are you still in touch?’

‘We’re very different people. I send her a Christmas card.’ Her words came faster and lighter. ‘Look, I’d better go now, I’m still behind on where I need to be.’

Two seconds later Liam pocketed his phone and looked at the almost luminous green lawn. Knots turned in his stomach as if he were land-sick. He hurt for her—she was alone and she shouldn’t be. He wished it didn’t bother him. But it did.

* * *

Victoria’s phone rang the next morning at five-thirty. So he knew she’d be awake and working already? She answered on the first ring, an unstoppable smile leaping to her lips. ‘You must be really bored.’

‘I’ll come and pick you up. You have to stop for a food break some time.’

‘Food? You’re going to take me to lunch?’ ‘I was thinking sooner than that. Breakfast in bed, actually. Good idea, don’t you think?’

‘You just can’t help yourself, can you?’

‘No,’ he answered. ‘I think of you, sex comes too. It’s like peaches and cream, cheese and crackers. Victoria and sex—inextricably linked.’

She giggled but a weird disappointment pressed heavy into her chest at the same time. It would only be the once and then he’d disappear from her life again. ‘So this is the only reason you’re calling me three times a day?’

In the resulting silence her discomfort grew. Because she liked talking to him. She liked laughing with him. But was all this merely a means to an end for him? He was putting in the spade work to get what little he actually wanted?

But she didn’t want to sleep with him once and then lose him from her life for ever. She wanted more of this. It dawned on her that since the move to France, she’d been lonely. She wanted to laugh more—and she laughed when she talked with him.

‘I want you to get this work done,’ he finally answered, no smile in his voice this time.

Her work? That was what he cared about really? She stopped. Her work was for Aurelie. Victoria winced, so glad he couldn’t see the mortification staining every inch of her skin red. Of course, he wanted his ex-girlfriend, the woman he’d been with almost three years, to have the wedding of her dreams. He was just passing time flirting with Victoria while keeping an eye that things were on track. A bit of fun, that was all. He didn’t mean it— well, okay, he was sexually attracted. But that was all. He didn’t want anything more. And his primary concern was for his ex. The one he’d liked enough to spend years with, not just one night.

Fair enough.

‘Well,’ she said, smiling brightly at the telephone so he wouldn’t hear how hurt she was. ‘I’d better get off and get it finished, then.’

* * *

Liam frowned as he slid his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. There was a vibe hurtling along the ether that he couldn’t ignore. But she had to get her work done. He couldn’t go see her—much as he wanted that breakfast in bed. He wanted Aurelie to have her nice cards and more than that he wanted Victoria to be paid and have her work noticed. He wanted what was best for Victoria.

Truth? He wanted this weekend to be over so he could go to her and finish what they’d started the other night.

She was right; his timing was lousy.

He paced. He only had a few days before he was due back on the water but he didn’t want to leave until he’d had what he wanted.

He hated himself for that. She didn’t want what he wanted. She didn’t want him to cheapen whatever she thought this was. But lust was all this was, right? Nuclear-hot chemistry. The other night it had exploded. But he’d had to walk—to let her get her work done, to let her cool down from that kiss. Because he didn’t want the regrets that a spontaneous, quick tumble would have brought.

Truthfully that insane, insatiable need had taken him by surprise. The overwhelming compulsion to bury himself inside her and stay there had been so sharp he’d run from it. Because Liam never stayed anywhere for long. He couldn’t. Not for Victoria, not for anyone. She wanted and needed more than he had to offer. He ground his jaw, clenching his muscles—because that desire was still so incredibly strong.

And he’d seen her anxiety before he’d kissed her—the flash of self-consciousness, her admission that it wasn’t going to be that good. Oliver had done that to her. He’d betrayed her by going off with another woman. Liam wanted to punch him, as Oliver had once punched him.

Oliver had let her down. Liam wanted to fix it and in that one small way he could. He could give her that relief, restore that confidence in her sensuality.

Bitterly he mocked himself. What, he thought he’d be doing her a favour?

He’d told her the truth. He was selfish. All he really wanted was her. Wanted to have her so bad he was almost certifiable.

He changed and went for a run to burn off the energy accruing inside, but he couldn’t find his rhythm—couldn’t shut his thoughts down. She’d been hurt. Not just by Oliver, but by her parents, her sister. No doubt her friends too. She didn’t want to be hurt again.

He couldn’t blame her for that.

All he could offer was one night. Nothing more. Was that fair to her?

No.

Calling her so often this week had been a mistake. He’d drop contact completely—go back to the stalemate of the last five years. Some things just weren’t meant to be.