Secret Surrender. Laura MartinЧитать онлайн книгу.
of the world’s highest paid, most powerful and most famous men again, and she knew, much to her annoyance, that Conrad was a great fan of the man himself.
Drew pulled out a chair and gestured to it with a deliberate theatrical sweep of his arm. Playing to the crowd, that was what he was doing, making the most of her discomfort, milking the scene for all it was worth—just like last time.
That clinched it.
‘I’ll see you in a week’s time, Michaels, but for now—drop dead!’ Christy hissed, and with a haughty flick of her head and a flounce of her skirts she left Conrad standing alone and vacated the premises with a sharp click of her heels.
CHRISTY frowned irritably and cast narrowed eyes over the vast array of appealing clothes that were housed in her magnificent walk-in wardrobe. Usually she had no problem—no problem at all. But what to wear? What to pack for these damned two days with Drew Michaels—for a weekend that promised to be living purgatory and hell all rolled into one?
He had been irritatingly reticent about the situation of his newest home; secret hide-aways were his speciality—he had a retreat in almost every continent and the exact whereabouts of each one was a wellguarded secret.
Still, Christy decided, determined to be positive, determined not to let self-doubt and fear of what lay ahead eat away at her self-confidence, at her resolution to go through with this no matter what, it was only for two days and it was summer, and she would hardly be roughing it. Drew Michaels was renowned for his good taste in all things. Wherever she would be spending this hateful weekend, it was sure to be in the height of luxury.
The week since the incident in the restaurant had passed all too quickly and as Christy waited with nervous impatience for the car that would take her to his abode she found that not one ounce of annoyance had subsided in that far too short a time. Anger burned away inside, niggling her day and night like an ant bite that simply got redder and more painful.
The sudden blast of a car horn just then made her jump a mile. Silently cursing the driver for disturbing the discreet, tasteful ambience of this most exclusive of neighbourhoods, Christy peered cautiously around one of the ruched lace blinds in her drawing-room and glared at the shiny red Ferrari with scowling irritation. Typical, she thought, that he should employ someone with about the same amount of good manners as himself!
‘Haven’t you heard of doorbells?’ Christy enquired, lowering her head to the open car-door window. ‘Residents around here don’t appreciate a blast of a car horn at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning! Oh!’ She paused and straightened up as Drew Michaels opened the driver’s door and appeared, looking disgustingly fit and healthy. ‘It’s you.’
‘In the flesh.’ He cast her a glance, surveying Christy with a critical eye, and immediately the prickles of antagonism that seemed to spring so easily to the surface whenever she set eyes on him were in action.
‘Something the matter?’ Her voice held enough ice to cause frostbite as she glanced swiftly down at her own attire and picked off a minuscule piece of fluff that was adhering to the finely cut cream trousers she had elected to wear.
Drew shrugged broad shoulders and shook his head with a smile that left Christy feeling a little too uncomfortable. ‘No, not at all. I was just thinking how good, if not altogether practical, you were looking.’ He came around and removed the portable radio equipment and the well-filled holdall from Christy’s reluctant grasp—giving anything at all to Drew Michaels went against the grain. ‘Forget anything?’ he asked pointedly, glancing down at the bulging leather. ‘After all, you are going to be away from home for all of one night!’
Christy threw him a withering look. ‘I happen to take a pride in my appearance—unlike some,’ she added pointedly, casting derisive eyes over his attire of faded denims, battered trainers and a well-worn shirt, which was wound up at the elbows to reveal solid biceps of quite amazing proportions. ‘I don’t see that there’s any need for sarcasm or ridicule, and as,’ she continued haughtily, ‘you gave no indication on how or where I am to be spending the next two days, I had to guess at the sort of thing to wear.’ She glared at him as he walked around to her side of the car, after stowing away her luggage, and opened the passenger door.
‘Me, sarcastic? Perish the thought!’ he drawled smoothly. ‘And risk the ferocity of Miss King’s displeasure?’ He shook his head, a derisive smile twitching the corner of his mouth. ‘Time is passing, Miss King; get in. Oh, and try to take that scowl off your face.’ He placed a guiding hand on Christy’s back. ‘It’s giving the neighbours something to talk about.’ He raised a hand and waved to a window two doors along and a bedroom curtain fell swiftly back into place. ‘You see,’ he added as he got back into the Ferrari, ‘this area isn’t any different from all the rest—there are nosy old bats like that one wherever you happen to live.’
‘That woman happens to be a baroness!’ Christy retorted sharply. ‘She’s hardly an old bat.’
Drew started the car and the engine roared into powerful life. ‘Well, nosy old baroness, then,’ he amended easily, stretching the seatbelt across his broad chest. ‘As I said, there’s very little difference.’
‘That’s just the sort of remark I would have expected from you,’ Christy replied, as she fastened herself in. ‘Typical! And for your information, if I want to scowl for the whole of the time I have to suffer your company, I will—OK?’
The broad, rugged frame beside her shrugged with obvious unconcern. ‘Your choice. But don’t you think it’s going to be rather a long forty-eight hours?’
Christy cast a sideways glance and glared at the strongly shaped profile. ‘It’s going to be eternity whatever I do,’ she replied with a sweet smile. ‘So what’s the point in trying to hide my deeper feelings? Scowling comes naturally when you’re anywhere in my vicinity.’ She paused momentarily, and then added, ‘Unless you haven’t worked it out already, Mr Drew Michaels, I’ll say it now loud and clear, just so we both know where we are—I don’t happen to like you.’
She was dying to see a reaction, an indication that she had annoyed him, angered him, hurt his pride, that ego which so often afflicted big stars in the worst kind of way. Christy watched and waited and saw little, except evidence of that brand of patronising amusement that was usually reserved for silly young children who didn’t know any better.
‘Oh, I think I’ve worked that one out all right.’ Drew’s mouth widened as he manoeuvred the car through the heavy London traffic. ‘And all by myself too, and, just so we both know where we stand, let me say now that I’m not too impressed by you either.’ He turned cold eyes upon her. ‘Did you see the articles in the gossip columns relating to our little contretemps in the restaurant last week, by the way?’
‘No!’ Christy replied snappily, turning to gaze out of the window. ‘I did not.’
‘Probably just as well,’ Drew replied cuttingly. ‘You did come out of it looking rather…’ he paused and pretended to struggle for the right word ‘…ridiculous? But then I know you have quite a strength of character. You do, I’m sure, get over such embarrassing set-backs.’ His mouth curled tauntingly. ‘The various snippets were rather unkind. Such a shame, I thought, the way they seemed to ridicule you. And Conrad, poor, innocent bystander that he was, got roped in rather badly too.’ He paused and then added in tones that had ‘wind up’ written all over them, ‘I mean, you only have to look at the man to see that he’s not nearly as much of a wimp as they made out.’
‘He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be!’ Christy responded with unthinking fervour. She glanced angrily across and saw Drew’s mocking expression far too late.
‘A tiger in bed?’ he quipped icily. ‘Well, aren’t you the lucky one?’
‘I didn’t say that!’ Christy snapped, her