His After-Hours Mistress. Trish WylieЧитать онлайн книгу.
is there to talk about?’
Anything but themselves!
‘Would you like to tell me what you’re thinking of doing to my bedroom, for instance?’ he asked with a hint of a smile.
Swift heat flooded her. Bedrooms were as much a taboo subject as Simon and her manless state. She still thought of silver and grey and ice-blue, although maybe the ice part wasn’t right any more. He was a man of passion. Maybe hot red or fiery purple would make more sense.
Careful not to let him see that the thought of discussing his bedroom disturbed her, she looked at him with cool green eyes. ‘You’ve not yet given me time to come up with any ideas.’
‘There’s a reason behind that,’ he announced calmly.
Lucinda frowned.
‘Before you can design for me you need to get to know me. Properly know me, I mean. Isn’t that the way you usually work?’
‘I like to get a general idea of what clients like and dislike, a little about their personalities perhaps, but—’
‘That’s exactly what I mean,’ Zane declared in triumph. ‘My personality! Can you honestly say that you know me yet?’
She knew enough, thought Lucinda. Enough to want to steer clear of him, to avoid him like the plague, in fact. Even now, sitting here, talking to him, she couldn’t ignore his sexuality. Even his hair was sexy. It was dry now and back to its golden colour, totally untamed, and she wanted to run her fingers through it and stroke it into place. Crazy, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself.
‘No, you can’t, can you?’ he said when she didn’t answer. ‘We need a few days together before you start the thinking process. We’ll go into Castries together, and you can look all you like at whatever it is you need to look at, but primarily it should be pleasure, not work. We’ll dine there—I know a perfect restaurant—and then—’
‘Stop!’ It was Lucinda’s turn to hold up her hand. ‘Don’t run away with yourself. My time’s money, don’t forget. The longer I’m here, the more it’s going to cost you.’
‘I don’t mind,’ he declared indifferently, just as she had known he would. ‘I haven’t had a proper holiday in years.’
‘This isn’t a holiday,’ she reminded him.
His voice went an octave lower. ‘Wouldn’t you like it to be?’
Yes, she would, very much so. But it was far too dangerous. Zane was dangerous. The most dangerous man she had ever met. He was sex on two legs. He did dangerous things to her without even trying.
Even now, sitting here in this most beautiful of places, she was indifferent to her surroundings. Zane was the whole focus of her attention. He had made it that way. And, try as she might, she could not rid herself of him. He filled her thoughts to the extent of all else. How she was going to complete the job she was being paid for she did not know.
‘You haven’t answered my question.’ The low rumble of his voice as he leaned slightly forward reverberated through her nerve-endings as though he was touching each one of them singly, as though he was tuning her body for—for whatever he wanted to do to her. Lucinda felt her breathing quicken and she was afraid to look at him.
‘Business and pleasure don’t mix,’ she declared firmly. Was it she who’d said that before, or Zane? She couldn’t remember. Nothing in her mind was clear any more.
‘It seems to me that you need taking in hand, Lucinda Oliver,’ he said sternly. ‘You’re far too serious. Come, eat some more breakfast and we’ll go out and have fun.’
Castries was a mixture of ancient and modern—glass, concrete and steel vied with wooden buildings with graceful balconies and latticework. ‘It’s because they’ve had a series of fires over the centuries,’ Zane told her when Lucinda commented on the diversity of the architecture.
The market-place was busy and colourful and full of the aroma of spices and tropical fruit. Everyone was friendly and talkative and Lucinda began to relax and enjoy herself. Zane too was being friendly and nothing more. He made no demands of her and for this she was grateful.
They left the main shopping area until last and when Lucinda lost herself in swathes of materials and grew ecstatic over oceans of beautiful furniture Zane left her to her own devices. He was either bored, she decided, or being tactful. Whichever, she appreciated it and when she finally decided that she’d had enough she was weighed down with brochures and samples and ideas.
They had arranged to meet at a restaurant he had pointed out to her earlier. The best one in Castries, so Zane had said. An attentive waiter took away her packages and showed her to the bar where Zane was waiting for her. At first she did not see him; then she discovered him sitting in a deep armchair—and opposite him, laughing at something he had said, was a very beautiful young woman, dusky-skinned and black-haired and very, very sensuous.
For a few seconds Lucinda stood watching them. She saw an intimacy that made her feel uneasy. Zane was at his flirtatious best and his companion was hanging on to his every word, and on to every look from those gorgeous bluey-grey eyes and every breath that he took.
Lucinda suddenly felt as if she was an unwanted third party. Her happiness evaporated as quickly as smoke from a chimney and she turned swiftly on her heel. At the same time Zane looked up and saw her.
‘LUCINDA!’
Lucinda ignored Zane. She didn’t want to listen to any fancy excuses. He had just compounded her belief that members of the female sex were his playthings. And, Lord help her, she had almost fallen into the trap herself.
It was maybe a good thing that she had caught him working his charm. Judging by what she had seen, his companion was well and truly besotted. Was it someone he had picked up while waiting for her? Or someone he already knew? Whatever the case, Lucinda felt well and truly let down. In fact she felt an idiot. She had been in grave danger of making a very big fool of herself.
‘Lucinda!’ Zane’s hand fell heavily on her shoulder. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I didn’t want to intrude on what looked like a very cosy twosome,’ she told him coolly, shrugging his hand away and continuing her swift exit.
‘Nonsense, you wouldn’t be intruding,’ said Zane firmly. ‘Serafine is a friend of mine; I’d like you to meet her.’
‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘You were clearly bored following me around—I did tell you that I’d prefer to do the job my myself—and she is a welcome diversion. I have no wish to come between you.’ She hated to acknowledge the fact, even to herself, that she felt deadly jealous of Zane’s beautiful friend and she most certainly wasn’t going to let Zane know. ‘I’ll make my own way back.’
‘Oh, no, you won’t,’ growled Zane. ‘You’ll join us for dinner.’ And he took her by the elbow and forcibly led her across the room.
Serafine smiled as they approached. ‘Lucinda, it’s good to meet you,’ she exclaimed. ‘Zane has told me how clever you are.’
Lucinda wanted to ignore Serafine’s outstretched hand, but one glance at Zane’s stern face and she decided against it. ‘It is good to meet a friend of Zane’s too,’ she said quietly, hoping she sounded more sincere than she felt.
‘I would not know where to start if I were transforming his house. It is all right when you are doing it for yourself, but for someone else—how do you do that? Unless you know that person intimately?’
Lucinda had no wish to discuss her job with this woman, with her huge expressive brown eyes and a wide smile which revealed beautifully even white teeth. She was stunning, and would have been even