Читать книгу The Playboy’s Unexpected Bride - Сандра Мартон, Sandra Marton - Страница 7
ОглавлениеAS A boy, Lincoln had taught himself Tai Chi.
Well, maybe not Tai Chi, precisely. The classes had been held after school; they’d cost money and no way would his mother have been able to afford them. Hell, there was no way she’d have paid for something he’d wanted even if she’d been able to afford it.
But he’d spied on the class by cracking open the locker-room door, and he’d learned. Not the finer points, perhaps, but enough to find Tai Chi useful.
The ancient Chinese martial art was as much about self-control as it was about physical strength.
Eventually, he’d figured out that was something you could apply to life in general. He’d used that realization over the years and he thought of it now as he fought the growing tension inside him.
Too bad you didn’t think about Tai Chi when you first met this babe, a smug voice inside him said.
Linc ignored it. He’d made a fool of himself with her once. It wouldn’t happen again. Besides, Ana Maria Marques looked as furious as he felt.
She also looked spectacular, every man’s dream of a dressed-for-success female, the black suit elegant and proper, yet somehow hinting at the rounded contours of her body, the black pumps discreet until you took a look at the height of those heels and what they did for her long, lean legs.
His PA had stepped back into the room, the baby pressed to her shoulder, a bewildered look on her face.
“Sir? My apologies. I don’t know why Reception let this woman—”
“It’s all right, Sarah.”
“If the lady has an appointment, I don’t have anything in my calendar about it.”
“If you think you are going to throw me out because I don’t have an appointment,” Ana said hotly, “I assure you, Senhor Aldridge, you are not!”
A muscle flexed in Linc’s jaw but his tone was calm.
“Thank you, Sarah. Shut the door, please. I’ll ring if I need you.”
The door swung shut. Ana didn’t blink. She simply glared at him.
Linc folded his arms. “Explain yourself.”
“You have it wrong, senhor.You are the one who must do the explaining. To me. Or, if you prefer, to my father.”
What in hell was she talking about? Better still, what was she doing here? The last he’d seen, she’d been pretending to be a dutiful daughter while her old man worked up the courage to offer her as a bride. In fact, Marques had been so caught up in the offer that he’d gone on talking even as Linc ran out the door that night.
His gut knotted. Had he missed something? Agreed to something? Was that night about to bite him in the tail?
“Because if you think I will not tell him how you have treated me—”
“Sit down, Miss Marques.”
He spoke sharply, his words slicing across hers. It worked. Not that she sat down. He hadn’t really expected that. But at least she shut up.
Linc took the chair behind his desk, folded his hands on its glass surface and looked at her. How many Ana Marias were there? Three, so far. The sexy night-stalker. The demure innocent.And now this gorgeous sophisticate.
Which was the real woman?
“When you’re done mentally undressing me,” she said coldly, “perhaps we can get down to business.”
Linc raised one dark eyebrow.
“Trust me, Miss Marques. If I wanted to undress you, I wouldn’t be satisfied with doing it mentally.” He paused. “And neither would you.”
A flush rose in her cheeks. “Would you force yourself on me again, senhor? As you did the night we met?”
“Is that why you returned my kiss? Because I ‘forced’ myself on you?”
“I did not return it. And I am not about to be drawn away from the topic at hand.”
“What were you doing in that garden?”
“I just said—”
“Among other things, you blew past my best security system.”
She smiled the way a cat might when confronted with a delectable mouse. “Indeed, I did.”
Time to change direction. “Do you make it a habit to sneak around at night?”
“Do you make it a habit to force yourself on women?”
Back to the beginning. Linc sighed. “Let’s move on, Miss Marques. What are you doing here?”
“I am here because of the promise you made my father Have you conveniently forgotten? Or did you hope I would not wish to follow through on it? Is that the game?”
Calmer now, Linc decided this couldn’t concern a marriage proposal. Her father would be with her if it were. Still, he had no idea what she was talking about but only a fool would have admitted it. Instead, he sat back and flashed a cool smile.
“Why don’t you tell me, Miss Marques? You seem to have all the answers.”
He was afraid it sounded like a desperate ploy but it worked. A moment’s hesitation and then she marched to one of the chairs in front of his desk, sat down, crossed her legs and propped the attaché case in her lap. The pencil-slim skirt of her black suit rode up her golden thighs.
“My father asked a favor of you.”
Linc dragged his gaze to her face.
“Funny. I don’t remember him asking anything—but then,” he said, his tone hardening, “you seem to have forgotten that I left your home in a rush that night.”
Another splash of color swept across her high cheek-bones. “About that.” She cleared her throat. “I should have offered you my sympathy on the loss of your sister.”
“Thank you.”
Ana narrowed her eyes. The words were polite but she knew what this arrogant bastardo really meant was, Go away. Anyone viewing the scene would have thought she’d materialized out of the air instead of taking the elevator from Human Resources, two floors below.
Was he playing dumb? Could he really not know why she was so angry? He knew. He had to. He also knew damned well that he’d lied. That he’d said yes to her father only to placate him and had never, not in a million years, expected her to show up in New York.
If only Papa had never asked him.
She’d considered telling him not to, once she’d realized the man who’d forced his kisses on her that night was the man he was going to entrust her to, but how could she?
She’d worked a minor miracle, convinced Papa to let her take a stab at a career in New York, the city where all things were possible. She could have gone off without his approval, yes, but she knew her desire for independence pained him. She wanted to do it without hurting him, and she had.
After months of talk, Papa had finally agreed to let her go, but only if he hand-picked her employer.
“A good man,” he had said. “An honorable one with a successful business.”
Papa knew lots of good, honorable men who were successful. They were also middle-aged, overweight and balding. That was the kind of man she’d expected.
Instead, Papa’s selection had turned out to be Lincoln Aldridge. Tall. Dark. Not middle-aged, not overweight, not balding.
Lincoln Aldridge was a magnificent male specimen.
He was also a sexist pig who’d overpowered her, forced her into his arms, forced his kisses on her, forced her to melt against him and yearn, plead, burn for him to do more, more, more…
Nonsense.
It hadn’t been like that. She had been offended by his behavior and she would have told Papa the ugly truth about the good, honorable Senhor Aldridge, but Aldridge had gotten that terrible phone call about his sister.
After that, Ana had assumed Papa’s plan was done with. Then, last week, he’d showed her the letter he’d written and Aldridge’s response…
“Miss Marques?”
