Читать книгу Brides, Babies And Billionaires - Мишель Смарт, Rebecca Winters - Страница 55

CHAPTER NINE

HE PUT DISTANCE between them in the lift as if sensing her withdrawal. She kept her eyes downcast, and hung onto the photos like a lifeline. They and the exotic orchid on her wrist were mementoes she’d treasure for ever.

She should be grateful. She would be, when common sense rid her of the dull ache. Not now. Maybe once they’d shared polite platitudes, and she was alone.

Her key card. She’d better have it out ready and limit any awkward time. The doors opened and he guided her towards her room, turned her to face him, gripping her elbows, his features composed, his eyes dark as ebony.

They held her captive, mesmerised her. Seconds. Minutes. She was drifting, vaguely aware of him freeing her arms.

‘Sleep peacefully, Lauren.’ Rough as if forced over jagged stones.

Then, like déjà vu, his lips were on hers, moving smoothly yet more masterful, more mature. Like ten years ago their only physical contact. And like ten years ago she instinctively responded, wanting his kiss to last for ever.

Breaking away, eyes now narrowed and puzzled, he stepped back, and gave a slow short shake of his head.

‘Goodnight, Lauren.’ He sounded bewildered before walking away.

Had he remembered? Realised who she was? Her hand shook as she blindly tried to swipe her card without taking her eyes off his rigid departing back. She froze as he turned, strode back and yanked her into his arms, taking her mouth with a fierce male grunt. Causing her to drop everything and cling to him.

This wasn’t the exploratory tenderness of the teenage boy, or the polite goodnight of a moment ago. This was raw, masculine need, a hunger that swept her up and demolished any inhibitions. He caressed her back in wide strokes, urging her closer, searing her skin wherever they touched.

A yearning to arch into his warmth overwhelmed her. She couldn’t breathe, didn’t care. Her legs shook, her body quivered, fire flared in her core. And her lips parted willingly as he deepened the kiss.

She tasted wine and rich coffee, a hint of chocolate and—

His head flung back, his chest heaved. His stunned eyes raked her face, and his lips parted without sound. He backed away, arms wide. He hit the wall opposite and swallowed, dark eyes roaming her face as if he’d never seen it before.

With his gaze locked with hers, he came slowly forward and lightly traced shaking fingers down her cheek, settling under her chin.

‘Wow.’ Incredulous. Deep and husky. He seemed to struggle for breath. ‘I...I’ll see you Monday.’

By the time she’d blinked he’d gone, heading for the stairs.

Lauren fought for composure, unable to move. What had she done to provoke such a reaction? Where had her response come from?

The lift’s ping brought her back to the present. She scooped up her belongings and a moment later was secure behind her closed door. Dumping the stuff on the desk, she flung herself onto the bed, reliving every second since they’d exited the lift.

She studied the photo of the two of them, searching for something to explain his behaviour and sudden flight. There was no clue in his open expression or his smile. Nothing to indicate he had anything but enjoying the function on his mind.

So it had to be her. What deficiency did she have in her personality that discouraged more familiar contact? Did she give out negative vibes? She had close friends, some from back at school and uni in Melbourne.

Their common interests had been the original base but their friendships now went much deeper. She knew she could always depend on their support in any situation. It was her family who seemed to find excuses not to be with her. Or was it she who put up barriers, subliminally deterring closer intimacy for fear of being rejected?

She set the photo against the lamp on the bedside table, placed her corsage in front of it, and prepared for bed. They were clearly visible in the light from the street lamps. She fell asleep with her fingers on her lips.

* * *

Matt fisted one hand into the palm of the other as the taxi drove him home. He could smell her perfume on his shoulder, see her shocked expression when he’d pulled away and left. He still savoured the taste of her on his lips.

He’d meant that first kiss to be gentle, an affectionate ending to a memorable night. Her initial response hadn’t surprised him. Its effect on him had been astonishing. His libido had gone into overdrive and that damn niggle had drummed in his head. Breaking free had been instinctive.

But he hadn’t been able to walk away. The invitation he’d seen in her hazel eyes had driven him back and he’d let his pent-up desire run free. He’d moulded her body to his, caressing her back, and exploring the curves he’d delighted in all evening. He’d invaded her mouth, savouring her sweetness, craving more.

Her soft moan had slammed him back to reality. To the shame of his actions. He’d never lost control before. Getting the hell out of there had seemed the only option; now it branded him a coward.

Going back to apologise while he still ached for more intimate contact would exacerbate the pain he’d caused. Phoning would be even more cowardly. He hadn’t felt so much like a louse since...

Since the night he kissed a girl hiding in the dark on a balcony. The niggling cleared like a light-bulb moment in his head. An irresistible allure. A barely heard sigh. Soft lips under his.

The kiss he’d never forgotten, had relived so often in his dreams, and that had been so entrenched in his memory that his body had known her the instant their lips had met tonight. He’d never had a face to picture, only a curled mass of dark hair, and a recollection of a slender body in a blue dress. And throughout the ten years since, no lips had ever felt as soft or tasted as sweet.

He’d searched the ballroom for her, and spent the rest of the evening repeatedly scanning the crowd without success. Deep inside he’d never given up hope of finding her.

Now he understood the guarded look and apprehension the day he’d interviewed her. She’d recognised him, must have remembered their meeting as well.

Tomorrow he’d begin to make amends for tonight’s ending. Monday morning was going to be very interesting.

* * *

Matt’s jacket hanging on the back of his chair was the only indication he was in the building. Lauren wasn’t sure if she was upset or relieved.

Tucked into her purse was the florist’s card that had accompanied the arrangement of orchids delivered to her hotel room yesterday morning. Another memento, personally inscribed, Forgive me, Matt.

For the kiss or for running?

She’d imagined a number of scenarios for when they met again, none of which eased her apprehension. She couldn’t shake the re-emerged doubts. Their lives, their interests, their personalities, all were polarised. If it weren’t for the undeniable attraction, they’d have nothing in common. She sighed and gazed out of her window lost in a daydream of music, lights and feeling cherished as they’d danced.

‘Why were you hiding?’

She jumped, spun round to find him standing halfway across the room. Her heart stuttered. She covered it with her hand, and fought to steady her erratic breathing. How come he looked so cool and calm? So unruffled?

‘I wasn’t.’ She cursed her wobbly voice. ‘I’m just doing my normal preparation.’

Three rapid paces brought him an arm’s length from her side, leaning on the glass nonchalantly. The firm set of his jaw belied his calm demeanour, giving her composure a tiny boost. He gestured in the general direction of the river.

‘On the balcony, a good cricketer’s throw away from where we had lunch with the Fords.’

He knew—had to see the blush heating her neck and face, the embarrassment in her eyes. Her teeth as they bit on her lip, something she hadn’t done since she was a child.

As she struggled for breath and an answer, his lips—lips that had filled her waking hours since he’d strode away—curled into an apologetic smile.

‘I have no idea why I followed you. I saw a mass of dark curls and a hint of blue dress going through the door alone and wondered why. Couldn’t find you at first.’

He inched a little closer.

‘You running away shook me. I swear I looked for you to apologise, and I’ve always regretted frightening you but never the kiss, never the sweet taste of your lips.’

‘I hated being there,’ she blurted out without thinking. ‘Hated the way I was forced to be part of a world I had no interest in. Places like the balcony were sanctuaries. I didn’t belong inside with those people.’

Fleetingly stunned by her outburst, he recovered to run his fingers in a light path down her cheek and under her jaw, sending fissions of delight skimming across her skin. If he let go, her legs would give way and she’d end up a trembling mess on the floor.

‘And I invaded your peace. Did you know who I was before the interview or recognise me then?’

She felt her skin heat again and dropped her gaze, only to have him tilt her head until she looked him in the eyes. His eyebrows quirked.

‘Lauren?’

‘There were lights behind you that night. I didn’t see your face but as I pushed away your eyes became visible. They’re very distinctive.’

His low chuckle zinged through her. Laughter shone in his eyes and they crinkled at the corners.

‘My eyes, huh. We’ll have to talk more but not here.’

He grated the last word and then his tone softened.

‘The next few days are going to be gruelling. I’ll be juggling appointments regarding Dad’s actions with meetings, on and off site, about new projects. They’ll all take time away from where I want to be.’

His affectionate expression said he meant her. The gap between them diminished. His movement or hers?

‘Come to dinner with me tomorrow night.’

There was an edge to his voice that she didn’t understand. Her first inclination was to refuse but then she’d always wonder.

He claimed he’d tried to find her. If she agreed—and her heart and logic warred about the sensibility of that—she’d have personal time to learn more about him, be able to return to Sydney with no what-ifs. His persuasive voice, his hypnotic gaze, and his touch on her skin were an irresistible combination.

She meant to nod, swayed forward instead. As if in answer to her silent plea, he bent his head. Suddenly jerked away.

‘Not here.’

Growled in anger. Why?

His fingertips tracked lightly across her neck, triggering a goose-bumps rush from cell to cell, from her scalp to the soles of her feet. Awareness flared in his eyes, his chest heaved, and suddenly there was a wide space between them.

‘I have to make a couple of calls, and talk to Joanne before I leave.’

‘What am I supposed to do after I’ve finished the data entries?’

He spread his arms, fingers splayed.

‘Whatever Joanna needs help with. I know it may be below your expertise but...’

He struggled for words. ‘I don’t want a stranger coming in when we transfer those accounts into the mainstream. I want you.’

The inflection in the last three words was personal, nothing to do with accounts or computers. Leaving wasn’t an option.

‘I’ll stay.’ Data entry. Filing. Basic office work. Tasks that would allow her mind to wander to midnight-blue eyes and smiles that lit up her day.

‘You’re an angel. I’ll be here for half an hour then out for the morning. My mobile will be off most of the time so leave a message if you want me.’

His hand lifted towards her. Dropped. He walked out, picking up his jacket on the way.

If she wanted him?

Her body hummed with a need more disturbing than anything she’d ever felt. So much stronger than the mild desire she’d felt during her two previous relationships. She now recognised them as more mind melding and merely physical rather than zealous ardour.

There’d be no ‘let’s be friends’ when the passion died for Matt. He’d walk away and she...she’d survive. Somehow.

* * *

Matt strode to the boardroom, praying it would be empty. He was pleased he’d been able to persuade Lauren to stay. Having her at his home for dinner was risky, considering the way they both responded to the proximity of the other. But how else were they going to talk without interruptions? How else could he find out why she hadn’t trusted him before she knew him?

He’d almost kissed her again this morning. Never, ever going to happen here. He would never follow in his father’s footsteps. Would never use that bedroom, no matter how late he worked or how tired he became.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor. He refocused on the project he and the team were working on, the one he was determined would revitalise the company.

Everything hung on a precipice. His father could be facing fraud charges. He and, in his doing, Dalton Corporation had probably committed tax evasion. Duncan Ford might decide to suspend their talks of investing until Matt could prove he and the company were clean.

He should be broken, anxious of the future. Instead, now he knew the truth he found the challenges stimulating. If it all collapsed around him, he’d start again. Staying down wasn’t an option.

* * *

Lauren collected information needed from Joanne’s office and settled at her desk. She tingled from his touch, her stomach had barely settled, and her brain was in the clouds.

Logging in took two attempts at the password. When she went to write the date on her notepad, she’d left her pen in the drawer. Unless she pulled herself together, today would be a shambles.

Get it together, Lauren.

A fingertip tap on each of her work tools, a muscle-loosening back-stretch, followed by her slow-count-to-fifteen habit, and she moved the cursor.

Engaged in more simplistic tasks, she found her mind had a tendency to wander, always to Matt and his effect on her. After an hour, she took a break, ran up and down eight flights of stairs and refocused. Apart from taking messages from occasional phone calls, she was undisturbed.

At midday she joined Joanne and three of the male staff for lunch for the first time, making an effort to contribute to the weekend football match discussion. She didn’t comment when one of the men raved about her youngest brother, who’d kicked four goals including one as the siren sounded.

‘Mr Dalton seems happy with the progress we’ve made on this new venture, Joanne. It’s completely different from anything we did for his father, quite stimulating. Do you think the changes will be permanent?’

Lauren lowered the mug she’d been raising to her lips. She noticed Joanne’s hesitation at the man’s question. How much did she know of the true situation?

‘I know he’s doing all he can to sort everything out and he’ll be tied up with meetings most of the week, nothing else.’ She rose and went to stack her utensils into the dishwasher. ‘Break’s over. Do you have enough to do, Lauren?’

‘Yes, I’ll find you if I need more.’

Every employee she’d met addressed him as Mr Dalton. Although he used their first names, he kept distance between himself and his staff except for her. Because he intended to return to London?

Was there someone special there? Someone prepared to wait for him? Someone he’d taken to Paris?

A no-strings arrangement by two mature people. How did they do that? She couldn’t imagine becoming involved with anyone who also dated other women.

Reinforcing that in her head didn’t stop her stomach from fluttering at his call sign on her mobile.

‘How’s it going, Lauren?’

‘Fine. Joanne says she can keep me occupied today and part tomorrow, after that I may be on cleaning duty.’

He laughed as she’d hoped he would, deep and raspy, making her ear tingle.

‘Anything to keep you here. I won’t get to the office until late today, or tomorrow morning. I’ll call you when I can.’

‘Is it bad?’

‘I’m dealing with reticent legal and financial professionals. They hardly commit to black or white coffee but at least it’s not all doom and gloom. Hang on.’

She heard his name and him replying, ‘Thank you.’

‘I’m being summoned back to the world of ifs, maybes, and it all depends. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lauren.’

‘Tomorrow.’

She sat as still as stone, staring at her mobile. He’d called her Lauren twice; she hadn’t said his name at all. He used hers every time he spoke to her. At the function she’d made a deliberate attempt to say ‘Matt’ in the presence of others. In front of work colleagues it was ‘Mr Dalton’, to conform with them. Alone with him she omitted to call him anything.

He was smart, quick to notice nuances and actions. He’d have to know she deliberately avoided the intimacy of first names.