Читать книгу: «The Abby Green Modern Collection», страница 4
And, if she was honest, a part of her had thought, Hang Caleb, he can pay for all this ten times over, and more. She resolutely refused to look too deeply into the possibility that she had in fact bought them because she wanted to…for him. She had to remember she was playing a part. And what he would expect was a mistress, dressed suitably, in his bed. That thought made her shiver as she prepared.
Later, while waiting for sleep to claim her, as she lay on the very edge of the huge bed, Maggie reflected uncomfortably that their phone conversation earlier had been almost…too easy, with a hint of warmth even. And that was dangerous. Because it reminded her of the heady days when she’d first got to know him in London, when she’d seen that other side to him. She turned over and rested her head on her hand. If he was to turn on the charm she’d be lost, for certain. She knew because she’d been lost before. Despite everything that had transpired, she was very much afraid that she was still lost.
The drama of the last few days caught up with her finally, the sleepless nights. She gave in to a deep dreamless sleep.
Caleb woke early. He was aware of the heat of another body close to his. Turning so that he was on one side, he looked to see Maggie nestling close, curled towards him. Vibrant red hair fanned out around her head. He’d been dimly aware of her shape on the far side of the bed the previous night and had been too exhausted to investigate further. But they’d obviously gravitated towards each other during the night.
Now, however, he could study her at leisure. She looked younger, innocent…oddly vulnerable. His face took on a hardness as he dismissed the notion, his eyes travelling down. With the cover drawn back, she was revealed in a creamy negligée, the delicate lace just disguising the mounds of her breasts, which rose and fell with even breaths. Caleb felt his body respond forcefully. He shifted uncomfortably and Maggie shifted too, as if they were linked by an invisible thread. He stilled.
In repose, her lips went into what looked almost like a petulant moue. He wanted to bend his head and kiss her soft mouth. He wanted to have her wake and look at him with sleepy eyes, smile and turn into him, giving herself to him. But he didn’t. Because he knew that if he was to wake her with a kiss, she’d look at him first with surprise, but then with censure…and, without wanting to question why, he knew he didn’t want that. When he made love to her he wanted her eyes to be open, aware of every moment and darkened with passion—when he took her for the first time.
In a split second she had shifted and moved even closer, a hand reaching out, finding his chest and resting there. As if to test him. Small and pale against the darkness of his skin. Fingers curling softly. His jaw clenched with the effort not to give in to temptation and very gently and slowly he extricated himself and went to take a shower. A cold one. On the bed behind him Maggie stirred but did not wake.
CHAPTER FOUR
WHEN Maggie did wake it took a minute to figure out where she was. She felt completely refreshed, as though she’d had the most restorative sleep in her life. Stretching under the covers, she smiled to herself and then stopped. The feel of the slinky silk material on her body was all too alien.
She remembered exactly where she was.
Sitting up slightly, she realised that she was practically on the other side of the bed to the one she’d taken last night and the evidence of a head imprint very close to hers told her that Caleb had joined her at some stage, but he was gone now. From where she was, she must have been on top of him…or maybe he had pulled her over? No, she would have woken. And how had she had such a good sleep with him in the bed beside her? She was a finicky sleeper at the best of times and yet, her first night in a new place, sharing her bed with the most disturbing person she’d ever met, she’d slept like a baby for the first time in years.
The door opened to reveal a clean-shaven, impeccably dressed Caleb. Maggie sank back down and pulled the covers to her chin, unbelievably relieved to see him fully clothed.
‘Morning.’ He put a cup of coffee on the bedside table. She looked at him very warily.
‘You know you’re quite the wriggler when you’re asleep. All over me when I woke up. You’d think a king-size bed would be big enough…’
Just after the way her own thoughts had been going, it was too much. She would not let him goad her and stifled a defensive retort, but then had to say something.
‘Well, maybe this has been a mistake after all, if I slept through the magnitude of sharing your bed without my clothes inadvertently dropping off…’
He came down on the bed beside her and suddenly she couldn’t breathe, the air trapped in her throat. Two strong, sinewy arms came either side of her. The sheet slipped down to reveal her upper body, hardly concealed by the lace and satin. His eyes made a leisurely inspection from her face downwards, until his eyes rested on her breasts. Just under his look, she could feel them swell, her nipples tightening into small hard peaks, pouting flagrantly forward, as if begging for his touch. Almost carelessly, he lifted the back of his hand and brushed knuckles over one sensitive peak, causing her to swallow a moan, before he tipped up her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
‘Mistake…? I don’t think so, my love.’
Her insides quivered, her lower body on fire with need. He had proved with little more than a look just how, if he’d wanted to, he could have had her last night, over and over. He knew it and she knew it.
In one fluid movement he stood up from the bed, his expression unreadable. ‘I’ll be back for you at eleven to go to Monte Carlo, so be ready.’
And he was gone.
Maggie shut her eyes fiercely. She would do this. She had to. How hard could it be?
At the designated time Maggie was waiting with a bag, ready to go. She’d rung her mother, had explained that as Caleb’s ‘assistant’ she had to accompany him on a short trip. Having packed away all of her own clothes and dressed in the new ones, she felt a little more like the actress she was trying to be. A simple linen skirt, silk camisole and matching jacket. Her hair twisted back and up in a smart chignon. The phone rang. It was Caleb informing her that he was downstairs in the car. This was it.
Outside, Maggie stood on the steps for a moment. Caleb was watching from the shadows in the back of the car. When she appeared at the door, looking fresh and bright and so sweetly sexy, he had to restrain himself from jumping out to go over and touch her. Almost to see if she was real.
With her bag deposited in the boot seconds later, about to get in Maggie suddenly remembered something and stepped back.
Caleb’s voice from the interior was terse. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I just want to make sure my car is locked…’ She hurried over to the car, which was close by, and checked quickly. When she turned to go back, Caleb was standing by the car, shades on against the sun.
‘That thing is your car?’
‘Yes,’ she replied defensively.
‘It’s a health hazard.’
Maggie fought against the protective urge that kicked in. She’d bought that car with her first savings, from the family gardener. She’d learnt to drive in it, lovingly cared for it. She realised then that Caleb, of course, would have expected her to be driving something much more ostentatious. She picked her words carefully, hoping she sounded breezy and unconcerned. ‘Oh…it’s just something I borrow from the house when I’m home. It used to belong to the gardener. It gets me from A to B.’
She slid into his car and hoped he’d forget about it. The driver turned around in his seat to face Maggie, introducing himself as John. She was surprised to hear an English accent. ‘Great cars, aren’t they? My first was a Mini too. I know how attached you can get to them.’ He winked back at her and, with the first genuine human warmth in days, Maggie smiled effervescently back. Then flicked a glance to where Caleb was lounging on the other side of the car.
He was looking at her with a strange expression on his face. She hurriedly schooled her features and looked out of the window. She could see from the corner of her eye when he buried himself in a paper. Without his eyes on her, Maggie breathed slowly and her thoughts for the first time flew ahead to where they were going.
Somewhere warm…and glamorous…and exotic…and foreign. Where the inevitable would happen. Within hours. By the time they got back to Dublin, they were going to be lovers. Her loose top felt constrictive all of a sudden. Could she make love to him and cut herself off from her emotions?
She’d have to.
Maggie lifted her face to the sun. Bliss. If you didn’t count the fact that she was here more or less under duress, for which she only had herself to blame, and that her stomach was in a constant knot since Caleb had walked back into her life just three days ago. Her mind reeled at that thought. Three days…and now she was about to start the life of a kept woman with someone who despised her…yet desired her enough to look past it.
She opened her eyes and shaded them against the sun. She was sitting out on the terrace of their hotel suite, on a balcony that overlooked a small idyllic square. Flowers everywhere burst in a colourful profusion so bright that it almost hurt the eye. She got up and leant against the wall. The sea glinted and sparkled in the distance. How many other women had had this treatment? Whisked away at a moment’s notice to luxurious hotels, fantastic locations…there purely for his pleasure. The thought hurt like a knife edge in her heart and she angrily pushed herself away from the wall.
She gave a startled gasp when she saw Caleb lounging against the French window that led back into the suite. His eyes were shaded.
‘How long have you been there…? What happened to your meeting?’ She felt absurdly exposed, as though he’d known exactly what she’d been thinking about.
He pushed himself away from the door and walked over. ‘You should be careful…you’ll burn in this sun.’ He could already see that more freckles had appeared on her face and shoulders, making her look ridiculously young.
She stiffened under his finger as it trailed over the smooth skin of her shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t see how she was responding to the light touch. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said breezily, belying her tense body. ‘Many painful past experiences have made sure that I never go out unless I’ve got factor thirty on. I gave up trying to tan years ago.’
He was still caressing her hot skin. ‘Still…you should watch out.’
‘If you’re not careful, I might think you are concerned for my welfare,’ she mocked.
Caleb’s mouth thinned. ‘Hardly. You come with an expensive price tag. And I don’t intend waiting for you to recover from sunstroke tonight.’
Her mouth went dry. Despite his blatant insult, she couldn’t halt the images that invaded her head at the thought of tonight. She searched for words, something to negate the awful liquid heat that was winding its way through her blood, glad that his eyes were covered so she couldn’t see into the blue depths, where she could well imagine his contempt laid bare.
He spoke before she could articulate a word. ‘My first meeting was quicker than I thought. I haven’t eaten yet; have you?’
She shook her head.
‘I’ve got a table in a bistro just around the corner; let’s get something light, I have another meeting in about an hour.’
‘Okay…’ Maggie picked up her bag and followed him out of the suite. A short stroll from the hotel and tucked down a small cobbled side street, Caleb gestured to a restaurant artfully hidden by plants and flowering baskets. Inside, it was cool and airy. The waiter led them to an intimate table in the corner beside an open window.
It was romantic and glamorous beyond belief. Heady stuff, with Caleb across the small table, long legs stretched out alongside hers. When she realised that, she tucked hers primly under her chair. He noted her movement with a mocking lift of one brow. She ignored it.
He handed her a menu. The waiter came back and they gave their order, Caleb asking for some sparkling water. When the waiter left the water and had gone again, Caleb lifted his glass. ‘In the absence of wine…can we drink to a truce, Maggie?’
A fluttery feeling hit her belly. She couldn’t avoid his eyes, the blue hypnotising her. She lifted her glass too, dampening the feeling ruthlessly. He was doing this just to make things easier for himself. No one wanted a reluctant mistress. And she had to stop her wayward thoughts…‘To a truce, then…’
He smiled. She took a sip and the rogue fluttery feeling came back a thousandfold. When he trained that smile on her…she couldn’t think straight. Danger.
He’s turning on the charm, just to get what he wants—you… a little sing-song voice warned. Maggie ignored it. She knew exactly what he was doing.
‘Let’s not forget why we’re here though…’
‘Enlighten me, Maggie, please.’ A hard glitter entered his eyes.
‘The house, of course.’
‘Ah, yes. The house. I was attempting, however hopelessly, to give us the chance to perhaps ignore the ugly reality. You don’t need to remind me of how you’re bartering yourself for a house worth millions. The fact is you are. And I’m the fool who thinks you’re worth it.’ His words rang with bitterness and she could see a pulse beat at his temple. He obviously regretted saying too much.
She flushed a dull red. Well, she’d asked for it. And why did she feel in the wrong? Just because he was the one who had held out the tentative olive branch?
She took a gulp of water.
He leant forward. ‘But Maggie, there’s no reason why we can’t come to some mutual accord.’
She had to be careful; she was letting her vulnerable emotions run away with her. The type of woman he was used to wouldn’t bat an eyelid at what they were doing. She strove for that cool insouciance. Albeit slightly after the fact.
‘Yes. You’re right. Let’s drink to that truce again.’ She held up her glass. With narrowed, calculating eyes he clinked hers again. She smiled brilliantly, hiding the hurt. She willed the awkward feeling away and, with more aplomb and skill than she’d thought she could possibly possess, she managed to steer them into a light conversation.
As Caleb seemed to disregard her little outburst, as they talked of inconsequential matters, like a bittersweet pain, she remembered all too well how much they’d had in common, or so she had thought. How much she’d loved talking to him once. Without knowing how it happened, somehow they’d gravitated to more personal matters.
‘Do you go back to Rio much?’ The plates had been cleared and Maggie was cradling her coffee cup in one hand, feeling deliciously full. Even though they hadn’t had wine, she felt a mellow feeling snake through her bones, relaxing her. And it surprised her, how easily she’d let herself become this relaxed.
Caleb looked away for a second and something flashed over his face. ‘Not that much. Although my mother is still there, she’s busy with her new husband…’
‘You mentioned him before, didn’t you? Isn’t he—’
‘The same age as me.’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Yes. And he has lots of money for her to be kept in the style to which she’s accustomed.’
Maggie tried desperately to keep things light. ‘Well, you have to admit, for feminists out there, it’s a nice reversal. Usually it’s the other way around, an old man with a woman no older than his own daughter.’
There was tension for a second and then Caleb smiled. ‘You’re right. You’d probably like her, you know. She’s very forthright, very outspoken.’
She felt suddenly shy at the thought of meeting his mother, but knew he hadn’t meant it like that, literally. If anything, it was more likely to be a cloaked insult.
‘Is…is your father still in England?’
He nodded as he took a sip of coffee, ‘Yes. He’s in Brighton, so I get down there whenever I can.’ There was none of the tension in his voice when talking about his father. Maggie guessed he had a very fraught relationship with his mother and remembered him telling her before about how his parents had fought over him as a boy, having divorced when he’d been only three or four. He’d been shunted back and forth between Brazil and the UK for years.
‘But you’re living in London? Or you were…’ She couldn’t say the words, six months ago.
He nodded briefly. ‘I have an apartment there and one in Rio, New York, Paris…but I’m never in one place long enough to call it home…’
At that moment he caught her eyes and they were clouded with some indefinable emotion; it reached out across the table and made him suddenly feel the need for something he’d never felt before. Maggie cut into his disturbing thoughts, echoing them.
‘I can’t imagine that. All the years we lived in London, Ireland was always our home. Somewhere to come back to…’
A refuge from terror. Dublin had always been too boring for Tom. He’d never stayed long and her happiest times had been during her Irish boarding school years whenever he’d let her mother stay…which had usually been when he was off on a holiday with one of his many mistresses.
‘Is that where you’ll stay now?’
She dragged her attention back and nodded. ‘I’d like to. We’ve been home for six months—’
‘Six months?’ He was sharp. Maggie coloured guiltily and wondered frantically if she’d let her guard down too much. But what could that possibly tell him?
She picked her words carefully. ‘Mum wanted to come home, so I came back with her to settle her in…’
His eyes were narrowed on her face. Intense. ‘So you left London six months ago?’
Maggie nodded.
Caleb studied her. There was a kernel of something there; he was sure of it. But he couldn’t figure what it was. Tom must have sent her away, fearing that Caleb might somehow come after her. Protection. The thought made him feel that impotent rage again. At her betrayal, at his own weakness for her. He made a huge effort to put it out of his mind. They’d agreed to a truce. ‘You’re close to your mother?’
Maggie, relieved that he’d let the London focus go, nodded emphatically. She was unaware of the protective gleam that lit her eyes, making them almost luminous. Caleb’s breath stopped; she looked radiant. The sun had already given her pale skin a warm glow, freckles that made him want to reach out and touch. Her top hinted at the valley between her breasts. A tendril of red-gold hair had drifted over one shoulder and curled tantalisingly close to her breast. This was crazy; he felt jealous…of some hair? He shifted on his seat, his body throbbing. Tonight, he vowed, a steady pulse of anticipation and desire beating through his blood…
A short while later, making their way back to the hotel, Caleb casually took Maggie’s hand in his. She felt tiny and feminine next to his much larger build. He threaded his fingers through hers and she was on very shaky legs by the time they returned. He turned to face her. She looked up, meeting his eyes. The sun was behind him, dazzling her.
He was going to kiss her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. If she tried…he’d wonder why and that would lead them down a dangerous path. Their mutual attraction was undeniable—always had been. He wouldn’t understand her fear…He had her pegged as someone far more sophisticated in these matters. This was a simple transaction for him and no doubt he imagined it was the same for her. She couldn’t afford to appear anything less than willing from now on. For as long as he desired her. And she knew that as terrified as she was of the response he evoked in her physically, it was the emotional minefield at the other end that worried her most.
He pulled her close into his body with one arm, his other hand cradling her head and threading through the silky strands of her hair. His mouth touched hers.
With flames of desire licking along every vein, Maggie finally gave in and, for the first time since seeing him again, even though they’d already kissed, she kissed him back. With full consciousness. Because, despite everything, she wanted to. Because she couldn’t not. This was as necessary to her as breathing. Her mind fought a pathetic battle for a few seconds; it must be the surroundings…the feeling that somehow they were not in the real world, that was making her behave like this…She just couldn’t help it.
With a moan of approval, he felt her tacit acquiescence and tightened the embrace. His tongue sought hers and sweetly stroked and explored and plundered. Maggie gave into powerful desire and slid her hands up his arms. She could feel the bunched muscle under the thin material of his shirt and desperately wanted to be able to feel the silky skin, explore the texture of his muscles, feel how they shifted…changed contours as he held her.
When he finally lifted his head, he pressed another quick kiss to her mouth as though he was loath to let her go. Maggie felt dizzy and light-headed. The only thing holding her upright was his arm anchoring her to him. She hated herself for this; he had her exactly where he wanted her. Acquiescent and pliant, in his arms. And there was nothing she could do except…comply.
‘I won’t have much time later so I’ll have my tux delivered to me and meet you in the hotel bar before the function.’ He let her go and pushed her gently in the direction of the hotel. Before she could be completely humiliated, she turned and briskly walked into the hotel, without a backward glance.
