Secret Passion. Carole MortimerЧитать онлайн книгу.
time to see the sweeping U-turn of a sleek grey Jaguar as James accelerated the car away.
She had a feeling that when James wanted something badly enough, as he had seemed to want her company on Sunday, he just refused to accept the word no. As Adrian had? No, she was sure that James would always deal fairly for what he wanted, that he always attained it without hurting anyone to do it. Hadn’t he just done so? She wasn’t hurt; she was bewildered and slightly off-balance, but she wasn’t hurt.
‘Has Mr Ballantine gone, dear?’ Her mother sounded disappointed as she entered the room from the stairway.
‘Yes.’ Aura was still a little dazed.
‘Such a nice young man,’ her mother smiled warmly, having an ageless quality about her that refused to recognise she was only a few years James Ballantine’s senior. ‘Will we be seeing him again, do you think?’ she asked innocently.
‘No. Yes. No! I don’t think so,’ Aura said with determination.
‘What a pity.’ Her mother sighed. ‘He had such kind eyes.’
Aura looked indulgently at her mother, a woman who saw no evil in anyone or anything. Although she had, Aura recalled with a frown, remarked upon the fact that Marmaduke didn’t seem to like Adrian, and that ‘animals knew, didn’t they?’ At that time she hadn’t paid too much attention to the vaguely made comment, but now she looked at her mother with sharp query.
‘You deliberately made sure I couldn’t talk to you until today, didn’t you?’ Aura glared accusingly at James as he drove the Jaguar with relaxed control.
It was Sunday, and promptly at two o’clock, as she had known he would, James had arrived at her home. He had then proceeded to charm her mother with gentle teasing, and enlist her help in persuading Aura to take a break when she had already told him she didn’t have the time to play tennis—no matter who his personal coach had been! He had even asked her mother if she would like to join them, genuinely disappointed when she had politely refused.
He glanced at Aura now with innocently wide eyes. ‘I don’t——’
‘And don’t deny it,’ she warned. ‘I’ve been calling your office for the last two days, and each time your secretary told me you were “unavailable”,’ she said with disgust.
‘And you don’t believe I was?’ he mused softly.
‘I’m sure you weren’t,’ she snapped impatiently.
‘I’m a very busy man, Aura,’ he mocked.
‘Not that busy!’ she glared.
He sighed. ‘You’re right. I told Moira not to put any of your calls through to me so that you couldn’t cancel our date for today.’
‘It was your date, I don’t remember at any time agreeing to it. And you might at least have lied about your duplicity,’ she added disgustedly.
He looked at her intensely. ‘I’ll never lie to you about anything, Aura.’ His hand covered hers as it rested against her thigh, the brief white shorts she wore leaving most of her long legs bare. ‘I want you to always remember that.’
The cool touch of his fingers against her skin, the knuckles brushing her thigh as he briefly clasped her hand, had completely disarmed her.
She had no idea what she was doing here with him, had intended sending him away as soon as he arrived today, and instead, at his and her mother’s insistence, she had meekly found herself changing into the shorts and a brief white sun-top.
Maybe it had been the way that he looked in his own white shorts and T-shirt that had thrown her; she had taken one look at him as he stood on the doorstep, his legs tanned and muscled, his arms and torso rippling with power, and she hadn’t been able to say no to joining him for a game of tennis. What could possibly be wrong with a harmless game of tennis? she had told herself as she changed. Looking at him now she knew exactly what was wrong with it; she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything but the complete masculinity of this man. She had a handicap before they even started the match, and there was no such thing as a handicap in tennis!
‘You could always have asked Moira to pass on a message,’ James said softly at her silence.
Aura looked at him, and then quickly looked away again. She could have asked his secretary to give him a message. Why hadn’t she? She couldn’t actually have wanted to spend the afternoon with him; it would be pure madness to allow herself to be attracted to him. She was already attracted to him; the madness would be to do anything about it!
‘I didn’t think of it,’ she told him abruptly.
He looked disappointed that she wasn’t about to give him the same honesty he had promised her. ‘Did you know that when you lie the freckles stand out on your nose?’ he confided softly.
Her hand automatically moved up to cover her nose and those tell-tale freckles. ‘James——’
‘I wish your mother had agreed to come with us,’ he remarked thoughtfully, cutting off her protest. ‘She’s very pale, I think the fresh air might have done her some good.’
Aura turned away, her hand dropping back to her thigh. ‘She doesn’t go out much.’
‘What happened?’ he frowned.
‘Trauma,’ she supplied abruptly. ‘My father’s death,’ she added at his expectant silence.
‘I’m sorry,’ he told her gently. ‘It must have been awful for both of you.’
‘Yes,’ she acknowledged abruptly. ‘She likes you,’ she heard herself add, and then wondered why she had done it; the last thing this man needed was another dose of self-confidence, he was already arrogant enough for two men, had completely taken her over since they had first met. She had gone to the offices of Ballantine and Mayhew to do battle, and instead ended up with this forceful man in her life. ‘I’m not altogether sure she’s a good judge of character,’ she told him caustically.
He smiled. ‘Of course she is.’ He sobered. ‘Can anything be done to help her?’
‘Not unless you can bring my father back.’ She couldn’t keep the edge out of her voice. ‘Unless you can do that I don’t think she wants to be helped.’ She turned her attention to their surroundings as she sensed his sharp gaze on her. ‘Are we almost there?’
‘Almost,’ he confirmed distractedly. ‘Aura——’
‘Do you really know John McEnroe?’ she asked sceptically.
He looked as if her disbelief had deeply offended him. ‘Of course I know him.’
Five minutes into their game of tennis Aura knew that whatever his coach had tried to teach James about the game, very little of it had actually been absorbed or utilised.
She eyed him mockingly after winning the first set six love. ‘OK,’ she sighed. ‘So who was he?’
‘Who was who?’ James was busy wiping the perspiration from his brow, having been running all over the court chasing the ball.
Aura felt a little sticky, but she hadn’t even worked up a sweat, sitting beside him on the wooden seat at the side of the court. ‘The John McEnroe you know,’ she said drily, sure it hadn’t been the John McEnroe.
‘He was my sportsmaster at school,’ James revealed unabashedly, his hair damp across his forehead. ‘I believe his opinion of my game was that I “showed absolutely no aptitude” for it.’
Her mouth twisted. ‘I can believe that. I’ve never won a set from anyone before, let alone whitewashed them!’
His eyes were warm as he gazed up at her, his arms resting along the length of his thighs as he sat forward. ‘My talents obviously lie in other directions,’ he told her softly.
Aura readjusted the