Читать книгу Tycoon's Terms of Engagement - Natalie Anderson - Страница 8

THE QUESTION WASN’T all innocent, but Jack Wolfe couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Or to apologise.

Not as he watched the emotions flicker in her big eyes. For a second she looked startled, but then fire flashed in those blue-green, draw-you-in depths. A sizzle sparked under his collar in response. He realised he was holding his breath—seriously? As if her answer mattered that much?

He blinked, trying to pull his wayward brain back to reality, but for a moment it seemed she actually was contemplating an escape with him. As if the two of them could run away together and steal time alone in the heat?

His body grew hotter. His skin tighter.

But then, as he watched, that polite veneer of hers descended. Back to frosted—frosty—perfection. Disappointment trickled, cooling his jets. He’d bet she was like one of those ornate overpriced cupcakes people queued for at fashionable boutiques. A tempting confection, smothered in layers of intricate icing, beautifully presented… but when it came to the tasting there was very little cake.

Jack liked cake. Icing…? Not so much.

‘Do you?’ Her voice was low, but there was the slightest of catches in it. An edge.

Was this how she was determined to play it? To be ‘nice’ and ‘accommodating’ and turn everything back to his wishes? Was she that eager to impress—to please? To secure this deal?

Would she say yes to anything he offered or asked?

For a moment he was tempted, so tempted, to ask for everything he shouldn’t.

Because, yes. He wanted to run away. And right now he wanted to run away with her.

Instead, he drew a steadying breath and answered. ‘Always.’

The spark in her eyes reignited. Defiance.

‘Because your life is so dreadful?’ she asked.

‘Everyone has their challenges,’ he answered coolly.

Another emotion, frostier than ever, entered her eyes. She thought he was spoilt. Inwardly he laughed at the irony. This was a woman who spent her life online, talking about new perfumes and places to party.

‘Yes, it must be tough producing all those travel pieces. Getting to go to the furthest corners of the planet…’ she murmured.

Nowadays too much of his time was spent chained to a desk in one of many offices Wolfe Enterprises had around the world. It was his underlings and contractors who got to see the actual sights.

But he wasn’t about to try to prove himself to her. She could think what she liked. In fact, he was pleased she wasn’t the total yes-girl he’d had her pegged as.

So he smiled at the sceptical expression she was failing to hide from him. ‘Don’t you have things you want to escape from at times?’ he asked, keeping his focus on her unbelievably beautiful face.

If her make-up weren’t so bulletproof he’d guess there would be colour running into her cheeks. She licked her lips in a nervous gesture that—inexcusably—turned him on.

Now was not the time for his body to go renegade. Steffi Leigh was everything Jack Wolfe didn’t want in a woman. She was a high-maintenance, shallow ‘stylista’, dictating to the rest of the world what to eat, what to wear, where to go and what to talk about. All instruction given in that relentlessly positive, upbeat, girly way. Did she even believe half the stuff she spouted? She was the kind of candy usually hanging off his brother George’s arm.

Though he had to concede she wasn’t as vapid as she looked. She wasn’t afraid to needle him a little. Yeah… surprisingly Steffi Leigh was not entirely nice. And that appealed more than it should. Now he wanted to peel back those perfect layers and find the essence of her. He suspected it wasn’t purely vanilla.

‘Stephanie?’ he prompted a little roughly, feeling the urge to spar harder with her. How far would he have to push to make her ditch that relentlessly smiling persona and snap at him?

He was not nice today.

‘No.’ She smiled. ‘Not at all.’

That overly determined answer both annoyed and amused him. He knew to his bones she wasn’t being honest. He’d irritated her, but she wasn’t going to bite back. Which made her better than him. Because he was close to snapping.

‘No?’ he asked, letting his disbelief show.

She continued to meet his gaze with a defiant little tilt to her chin. He fell silent, falling into the spell she seemed to cast wordlessly—all with those big blue-green eyes that made his skin burn.

For too long he looked at her. Desire sank deeper into his muscles, slicing through to the bone. What he’d do to make her mask slip—

But then his damn phone beeped, signalling a new text message. He didn’t read it, but the sound alone was enough to make reality race back.

He cleared his throat. ‘Where were you planning to take me?’ Time to pull back and be professional—focus on the far more important meeting he had in two days’ time. ‘Some new mall? A new consumer paradise?’

‘Not a mall, no.’

Thank God. But he faked a crestfallen look. ‘That’s a shame. I wanted to see you in action.’

‘I’m sorry?’ Her eyes widened.

He bit back a grin. It was obvious she’d heard inappropriate innuendo when he hadn’t meant it. Interesting.

‘I wanted to see how you come up with all your content,’ he clarified with an easy smile. ‘How you create all those lists and pictures…’

‘Oh…’ She nodded. ‘Well, there are a couple of out-of-the-way places I thought it would be nice for you to see. They’re upcoming features on the blog.’ She bestowed her wide ‘Steffi Leigh’ smile upon him. ‘So your wish will be granted.’

As if she was some fairy princess? Yeah. That was totally how she sold herself. A bright, bubbly bringer of beauty and joy.

‘What about your office?’ he asked. ‘Where you film your vlogs? I’d like to see that.’

He wanted to see what was on the other side of the camera—what it was that wasn’t shown on screen. Because his curiosity had been aroused—along with a few other things.

‘You want to see my room?’ She shifted, lifting a hand to adjust her seatbelt as if it were strapping her in too tightly.

For a split second she looked startled. In fact, he’d go so far as to say she looked scared. But then she released the belt and put that smile back on her face.

‘I’m sorry—not today.’

She wasn’t sorry, and now he really did want to see her space. What was all this icing hiding?

‘Actually, I was going to take you to the zoo,’ she suddenly spoke again, looking down at her lap.

‘The zoo?’

‘Perfect place for you,’ she murmured.

‘Pardon?’

‘Have you ever seen a baby echidna?’ She lifted her lashes, her eyes now limpid. ‘They’re very cute.’

‘Cute?’ He couldn’t decide if her eyes were more green than blue or more blue than green. All he really knew was that the colour was natural. He was close enough to know she wasn’t wearing contacts. ‘I don’t do cute.’

Whereas she did nothing but.

‘Do you even know what an echidna is?’ she asked.

‘A small, strange-looking thing that’s one of the very few mammals that lays eggs,’ he replied. He did travel guidebooks for a living—he knew random facts about animals in so many countries. ‘Is that why you’re wearing gloves? So you don’t get your hands dirty while you feed the cute little animals?’

For a moment she didn’t answer. But her gaze sharpened, held his ensnared. Was it him, or was it getting hotter? The temperature was searing.

Finally, pointedly, she lifted her eyebrows. ‘You think I’m afraid of getting dirty?’

Her reply sounded so innocuous. But that glimmer in her eyes… She’d turned some innuendo on him. Turned him on tighter…

He glanced up at the crystalline sky above, taking a breather from the intensity. They’d got barely two blocks from the hotel and he couldn’t be more on edge. Who’d have thought she’d pack such a punch?

‘Why else the gloves?’ He couldn’t resist glancing back at her.

She eyed him thoughtfully. ‘I’m wearing gloves to hide the state of my fingernails.’

‘You’re not happy with the colour of the polish? Does it clash with the car?’ he mocked.

‘Don’t tell anyone…’ She leaned a touch closer to him and spoke with a conspiratorial smile. ‘But they’re bitten down to the quick and I didn’t get the chance to put on fake ones.’

Honesty? It almost touched him—except she was all about covering up.

‘You’re wearing other fake things?’ He couldn’t help a glance to her chest. His bad. He owned it, but he figured she’d started it.

She pulled back to settle into the farthest corner of her seat. ‘A woman never gives up all her secrets.’

‘No? Only enough to engender interest?’ he taunted. ‘Is that one of the tips you dish out on your blog?’

She smiled a secretive, frankly seductive fairy princess smile. ‘My tips are very popular.’

That they were. And he could see why. She could write—her lists were entertaining. But it was the vlogs that had the greatest number of hits. It seemed people liked watching her prance about in her bedroom. His body winched tighter.

‘You’re interested in wildlife?’ And, yeah, he might have emphasised the ‘wild’ just a little.

‘Most people are.’ She continued to smile at him—so innocent and perky. Except for that heat in the back of her eyes. ‘And I thought you’d like to see some that’s unique to Australia. We have some amazing creatures. There’s a very big saltwater crocodile at the zoo. I think you’d like him. I’m sure he’d like you.’

He chuckled, appreciating the less than subtle implication. ‘I’m tougher than I look. Can’t be chewed up and spat out as easily as all that.’

‘Oh?’ She sounded disbelieving. ‘So you don’t want to go to the zoo? Where do you want to run away to?’

Anywhere. As long as it was with her.

He looked at her silently, trying to ride out the intense impulse sweeping over him. The car seemed to be shrinking. She was so near he saw her breath hitch, heard that faintest gasp. The urge to kiss her was overwhelming.

Sex. The body’s happy place. And for him the ultimate avoidance activity. He’d bury himself in her hot, tight body and screw their brains out. Until he could think of nothing else. Until he was exhausted and could sleep—not lie awake for hours and hours and hours, wondering and worrying and worrying and worrying…

It wasn’t such a bad idea, was it?

Wrong. It was the worst idea ever. He hadn’t succeeded as much as he had by bedding possible business partners.

He’d never done that.

Steffi Leigh was the excuse he’d given for making this trip to Australia. His brothers had been on his back about working too hard, but he’d said he needed to assess the viability of this acquisition himself. Truth was, he was hunting for something far more personal and he didn’t want to hurt his family by telling them yet. Not until he knew for sure. Not until he’d found everything out—even if it was the worst.

‘Jack…?’ A soft query.

He’d been silent too long—staring… all but eating her with his eyes. And in her eyes now was not just that spark that lit brighter as he neared, but the concern he’d turned away from the first moment he’d seen her.

She’d seen his anxiety again. And he hated it just as much as he had in the hotel foyer.

Unable to take the heat any more, Jack shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the ludicrously small back seat of the femininely sweet car.

Her eyes widened. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m hot.’ No lie. And it wasn’t because of the sun beating down on them.

He loosened his tie. Then thought better of it and took it off entirely, lying it on top of his jacket. Then he undid the top two buttons of his shirt, undid the cufflinks and rolled his sleeves to just below his elbows.

‘Do you mind?’ he asked as he worked.

‘Of course not.’

But not even the make-up could mask her blush now.

So he wasn’t the only one feeling it.

He knew that. Knew there was no way she wasn’t feeling the electricity arcing between them.

His phone beeped again. Sighing, he twisted to retrieve it from his jacket pocket and glanced at the screen to read the message. His private investigator had gone all efficient and diarised their meeting for him.

Reading it in black and white, he felt his lungs tighten. As did every one of his muscles. Anxiety returned in an unexpected tsunami. He gritted his teeth. He’d travelled the world over—going into war zones, danger zones, crossing arid deserts and ice floes. But he’d never felt as freaked out as he had when he’d taken that call ten minutes ago. As he did now.

But he’d been waiting over twenty years for this meeting—what was another forty-eight hours?

Torture. That was what it was. Pure, poisonous torture.

And hell, yes, he wanted to run away for the duration.

He needed time to speed up. Needed something else to think about for the next day or two or he was going to go insane.

Unable to help himself, he looked at her again and drank in the sight of her strawberry blonde hair, so intricately curled and coiled against her head, and her flawless pale complexion. Her eyes were bright, her lips glossy, and her petite figure was shown off to perfection in that pressed mint-green dress.

She didn’t look exactly like the profile picture on her blog. She looked better. It was the spark in her eyes. Not the make-up and the ‘look-but-don’t-touch’ dress, but the underlying attitude. That hint of something more dangerous within her—the certainty that she was keeping part of herself back.

He found her as irritating and as attractive as hell.

Yeah, he’d do anything to avoid thinking about that meeting. Absolutely anything. And everything.

He’d bite through those layers of rich, sweet icing. There was definitely more substance—more cake—than he’d first thought. And he did like cake.

But it wasn’t all about him. He wanted to see her fall into it—fall apart. He wanted to watch her eyes glaze and her cheeks redden without the aid or the mask of make-up. He wanted to see her sweaty and wet and flushed and laughing. And then crying her release. He wanted her mindless and begging to be tipped over the edge. He wanted to be the one to make her.

So inappropriate. Borderline insane. Sexual harassment stuff.

He had to rein it in.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had sex in years. He enjoyed holiday affairs with women who didn’t know who he was. When they found out he moved on. They were a short escape from his real world.

He wanted to escape now. He wanted to scoop her up and toss her into the nearest swimming pool so he could see her clearly. He wanted to see her wet.

The urge to provoke her was irresistible. The urge to touch her he was restraining. Just.

Because he hadn’t lied. Jack Wolfe wasn’t like his playboy brother George. Or his bona fide hero James.

Truth was, they weren’t related at all. And there was the cause of the ache. He was no Wolfe.

‘Are you going to answer that?’ she asked, her soft voice rasping.

His phone was ringing.

She watched him. No expression creased that immaculately painted face. But in her eyes all was emotion—all concern.

He hated it. He wanted nothing but that heat again.

He forced himself to tear his attention away from her. Glancing down, he read his brother’s name on the screen.

‘No,’ he said shortly.

He wasn’t going to answer. He couldn’t speak to his brother at this moment without giving himself away. If his brother heard his anxiety he’d be hounding him for the reason. And Jack wasn’t ready to explain it yet. But the second his phone stopped ringing it chimed to signal another text message.

‘Busy guy.’

He put his phone on the back seat again. ‘I run a company. “Busy” comes with the territory.’

A phone chimed. Hers this time.

‘Do you mind?’ She echoed his words as she opened her small bag.

‘Not at all.’ He watched as she quickly scanned the screen, a very faint frown pulling at her eyebrows. ‘Busy blogger?’

‘Of course. As you know, my audience is global. People like to have their comments acknowledged.’

‘So you’re always on call?’

‘Not for just anyone.’ She sent him a look. ‘Only my followers.’

He smiled, finding her slight snarkiness oddly soothing. ‘Your fans?’

‘People who like what I do,’ she said proudly. ‘I like to keep them happy.’

‘You’re not out to please everyone, then?’

‘We all know that’s impossible. We all know the internet has plenty of haters lurking behind anonymity.’

He didn’t like the idea of haters hating her. Even though he’d come close to it himself.

‘I perform for my crowd,’ she said.

‘And that’s what it is? Purely a performance?’

Caution clouded her eyes. ‘I believe in what I do.’

So did a lot of people, given how popular she was. Her blog and video channel transcended borders. Her audience went way beyond Melbourne—beyond Australia, even. Apparently millions of young women hung on her every word. And she had plenty of words. There were lists on what not to wear, on make-up, movies. On where to eat, what to eat… There were commentaries on celebrity outfits during the awards season. She had people clicking on her blog as she provided chat through movie awards, music awards…

It was a bright, bubbly mash-up of lifestyle, design and travel tips, geared towards the urban young woman. The segment of the market his company wanted greater engagement with.

Jack had read only a couple of her blogs and watched mere seconds of one video before switching it off in annoyance at the over-the-top girlish effervescence. But he’d relied on the advice of his researchers that Steffi Leigh was it. Apparently making enough money not to need a real job. And yet she wanted this deal.

That was why she was determined to be nice to him. Even when she didn’t really want to be. Which told him that she needed this sale to go ahead. Badly.

Why was that? Did she need the money to fund her lifestyle? Her purchases? He’d wanted to know why—within five minutes of meeting her he now wanted to know everything.

What he didn’t want was an afternoon of traipsing around while she fed him bubbly tips, trying to close the sale. He wanted to cut to the chase and understand the reality.

‘What if I took you somewhere?’ he asked.

‘As you’ve insisted on driving, I’d assumed that was happening already. By the way, I’m loving being parked illegally for so long.’

Suddenly Jack knew exactly what he was going to do. A long drive in a vintage convertible with a beautiful woman beside him was every man’s fantasy, right?

It wouldn’t be the first time for Jack, but he had the feeling it was going to be the most fun.

‘We’re going to be little longer than we scheduled,’ he said unapologetically. ‘But it’ll be worth it.’

Her polite façade tilted. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t stay longer than we initially scheduled.’

‘Why not? Is there some place you’ve got to be? Some new restaurant opening?’ He wondered if she’d answer honestly.

Her smile remained fixed. ‘No, but—’

‘There’s no problem, then.’ He didn’t give her time to argue. ‘We can escape.’

‘I’ve already told you I don’t need to escape anything in my life.’

‘Everyone needs to escape some time.’

She looked at him, her eyes narrowing. But she didn’t answer. Didn’t lie. She did want to run away—and not really from him. There were things in her life she wanted to escape.

‘You want me to buy your blog?’ he asked.

Her lips parted. ‘Are you blackmailing me?’

He wasn’t, actually, but it was interesting that she’d leapt to that conclusion. She definitely had thoughts on the darker side.

‘All I meant was that we might talk at length about the deal on our drive. I find driving helps me think. And make decisions.’

She still hesitated.

He was used to people saying yes. Spoilt, perhaps, but there it was. He was used to asking and receiving. In terms of business and in terms of women. But it was only because of what they could get from him in return. And that wasn’t emotion. It was cash. Or connections. Or both.

‘There’s a retreat I have to take a look at.’ He was booked to stay there after his day in the city. He’d bring his stay forward a night.

‘A retreat?’ she queried.

He nodded. ‘It would be a good source of inspiration for your blog. You can take a look around and show me how you’d put it all together online.’

Truth was the Green Veranda wasn’t right for her blog. Nor was it going into one of the Wolfe travel guides. It was too expensive, and already too exclusive to need it. It catered to a celebrity clientele, or the über-wealthy who didn’t want attention from the general public or any intrusion. Solitude and privacy guaranteed.

Jack didn’t want that level of isolation and introspection now—not with these two days stretching before him like purgatory. No, he needed distraction.

And he had it sitting right beside him.

‘A retreat as in… like a health spa?’ she asked.

‘Sort of. A very expensive private hotel. You can stay the night, yes?’ The idea was growing on him with every second.

‘Stay the night?’ she echoed.

He laughed at the hint of horror in her voice. He’d let her off that hook a little later—for now it was too much fun taking in her reaction. Wickedly amused, he watched her internal war—whether to breathe yes or snap no?

Her blush deepened as she gazed back at him, her eyes as huge and as brilliant as the sky above them. Spark, heat, defiance, indecision. He swore he could almost hear her pulse racing. His own heart quickened in response.

In the end he decided to take the burden from her.

‘Sure.’ He smiled as he put the car in gear and pulled back into the line of traffic. ‘Because I’m kidnapping you.’