Hotbed of Scandal: Mistress: At What Price? / Red Wine and Her Sexy Ex / Bedded by Blackmail. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
gaze on him.
She paused, then said, ‘No.’ Another pause. ‘This is your big moment. Our relationship shouldn’t overshadow the great work you’re doing. Besides,’ she went on in a brighter tone, ‘I’ll be flat out with my own schedule.’
He reached out, touched her hand. ‘Last night worked in your favour, too. You’ll be a runaway success.’
‘Speaking of last night…tell me about Barbara.’
‘Barbara?’ He shook his head. ‘She’s poison.’
‘You two seemed to be having a heavy-duty conversation on the dance floor.’
‘I said what I should have said years ago. She didn’t take it well.’
‘And that was…?’
‘That she’s a manipulative, deceitful bitch.’
‘Strong words. How so?’
‘I saw Barbara outside a restaurant several years back in a clinch with some other young guy, even though she’s supposed to be devoted to my father.’
‘Why didn’t you warn him?’
‘I tried. He accused me of interfering in his life and told me to stay the hell away.’ His body tensed and his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. ‘Haven’t set foot on the property since.’
‘He was talking about you while you were dancing. And I saw the two of you outside the ballroom later. There’s regret there, Dane. And more.’
A tight ball of emotion rolled up from his chest and lodged in his throat. ‘He made overtures about putting the past behind us.’
She touched his shoulder. ‘Family, Dane. Forgiveness. Do you think you might be able to mend some bridges?’
He swallowed, forced the ache down and kept his eyes on the road. ‘Do you think Adelaide’s going to be rocked by an earthquake this afternoon?’
That evening Mariel sat cross-legged in one of Dane’s big T-shirts in front of his main computer, uploading the day’s pictures. As she scrolled through the images she couldn’t stop anticipation trickling through her at the thought of what tonight might bring.
As long as she kept this arrangement strictly casual. Focused on the present. Took it a day at a time. They’d done okay today, she thought. He’d been attentive and considerate. Sweet, really. On the occasions he’d hugged her there’d been warmth and affection. Their interaction had been open and uncomplicated. Just as she’d asked him.
But the sensual promise in his eyes had been enough to keep her blood on a low simmer all day.
She glanced up, that simmer upping a few degrees as Dane sauntered into the room with a bowl in his hand. She snapped her eyes back to the computer screen and the task at hand. Ordered herself to focus. Plenty of good-quality shots to choose from. She was surprised at how well they’d turned out. Luc’s photography skills had taught her something useful after all.
‘Can I tempt you with ice-cream?’
‘In a minute.’ Her eyes didn’t leave the screen, but her other senses instantly focused on the man behind her—she could multi-task, couldn’t she? The velvet timbre of his voice caressing the nape of her neck. The heat of his body. His tangy soap smell.
The simmer heated to a rolling boil, and without thought she leaned back so she could rub her head against his abdomen. Absently, she tried to remember a time when she’d craved physical touch quite so intensely. ‘This one.’ She clicked the mouse for a closer look.
It was a shot of Dane in a dove-grey polo neck jumper with one foot braced on a rock, the turquoise ocean and white sea spray a magnificent backdrop. She’d taken the photo on a forty-five degree angle.
‘Not bad.’
‘Not bad? It’s bloody brilliant. Okay…’ She saved it to a folder she’d created, then clicked to the next shot. ‘What were you saying about temptation? Wait…’ She leaned forward, mesmerised at her own talent. Uncurled her feet and planted them on the floor. ‘This one. Oh…yeah…’
In the picture Dane’s arms were crossed and he was leaning against grey-brown weather-smoothed rocks on the seaward side of Granite Island. He was wearing a dark V-neck sweater over jeans and looking out to Antarctica. ‘You do that brooding look like a professional model. Look out website, here he comes.’ Even his long hair blowing in the constant wind that battered the island suited the image. ‘You’re okay with that? Being on my website? When I get one, that is.’
‘We’ll talk about it. Later.’
‘Whatever, that one’s a definite.’ She saved it to her folder. Then squealed as a cold sticky tongue laved the side of her neck.
‘Ice-cream.’ He held a mouthful on a spoon in front of her lips.
‘Is it honeycomb?’ She darted her tongue out to taste.
‘Is there any other kind?’
She closed her mouth over the spoon and let the cold creamy taste roll around on her tongue. When she’d savoured every last drop and licked her lips she said, ‘I thought temptation was mentioned.’
‘Ice-cream was mentioned.’ His tongue laved her neck again, then his lips and teeth joined in, nipping and sucking her flesh. ‘Is that not temptation enough?’
She closed her eyes and arched her neck for more, then moaned when a cold, moist tongue slid along her collarbone. ‘It might be. It really depends on who’s offering the ice-cream.’ She could almost feel herself melting, sliding off the big leather chair and onto the floor. She gripped the edge of the desk. ‘And what else they might be offering…’
She heard the clunk as he set the bowl beside the computer, and her body shivered in the delight of anticipation. His hands glided over her shoulders and then down. Inside the loose neck of the supersized T-shirt and over her breasts. Around her nipples in everdecreasing circles until she was practically begging. Her head lolled back on the chair.
She heard the sound of tearing seams and the T-shirt’s neckline disintegrated. In one quick movement he ripped the whole thing apart down the middle, leaving her naked but for her panties. Hot palms massaged her belly. Her head lolled forward and she saw her own body. The contrast of his hard, dark hands on her pale and practically quivering flesh.
Then she watched, breathless, as both his hands slipped beneath the flat band of purple lace over her hips. The erotic sight nearly tipped her over the edge.
A distant siren wailed. She was vaguely aware of the computer’s hum, that someone along the street was playing party hits. Then she wasn’t aware of anything much at all.
The muscles in her stomach tensed, then spasmed. Her arms fell away from the desk to hang limply at her sides. Her thighs fell apart as her feet skidded away on the polished floorboards.
Oh, dear heaven…How had she let herself become so submissive so quickly? she wondered dimly. The little voice in her head warned her that allowing another man to take command of her in this way was a prelude to disaster. And, because this was Dane, he wasn’t only taking her body—he was taking her heart. The heart she’d sworn no man would take again. But for the life of her she couldn’t move, could only lie helpless and let him continue.
One large hand rose, tapped a couple of keys. The screensaver disappeared; an image of herself flashed onto the monitor. ‘What do you see?’ said the voice behind her.
She stared at the green unfocused eyes, the slackjawed mouth, and managed to close it. Barely. She saw a woman who’d well and truly lost it.
She saw the glint of fear in the passion-dark depths of her gaze.
‘Not me,’ she whispered, shocked. As she watched the monitor she saw his face join hers as he bent down next to her. ‘That woman is not me…’ She tried to