His Inherited Bride. JACQUELINE BAIRDЧитать онлайн книгу.
all down the line.
Yet here this beautiful woman sat looking as cool as a cucumber, and after all she could get. Well, this time she was in for a rude awakening; Rand was going to make sure of that…
‘I was sorry I couldn’t make the funeral, but my mother wasn’t very well.’ Jules chose her words with care. She still had difficulty saying ‘cancer’ out loud, especially to a relative stranger. But she knew exactly what he was referring to by his ‘too long’. She could recognise sarcasm when she heard it. ‘And it was too short a notice to get out of an extremely important commitment I had already made.’ It was the truth; she had promised to stay with her mother while she was in hospital. But she did not want to offend the man when she was hoping to get money out of him so she did not elaborate.
Never mind her mother, it was probably down to some man, Rand thought cynically. Jules had dressed down her sensational figure, but to the discerning eye she was the epitome of female pulchritude, full breasted, a tiny waist and softly rounded hips plus long, shapely legs. He stirred uncomfortably on his chair, surprised by the stirring in his groin and resenting the effect she had on him, but masking it with a fulsome compliment.
‘I understand. An exquisitely beautiful young woman like you must have many more pressing calls on your time,’ he drawled silkily, and turned his attention to the waiter who had miraculously appeared at his side.
‘No champagne for me; a soft drink, please,’ Jules said coolly, not rising to the bait as he placed their order with the waiter in fluent Spanish. He really was a many-talented man but he was also a sarcastic swine; she didn’t believe his compliment for a moment. She had no illusions about her looks. Attractive, yes, but ‘exquisitely beautiful’ was overdoing the hyperbole just a tad even to try and charm the dimmest female.
A wry smile twisted her mouth. Jules considered herself a reasonably intelligent adult woman, with a good career doing what she loved. In life as in business luck and timing was everything. Sadly for her mother, she had had no say in when her illness had struck. Jules could think if only it had been a year or two later, and at her worst moments if only it had been just six weeks sooner, then Jules would not have invested all their capital and the bank loan in the house and business. But her real wish was if only her wonderful mother had never taken ill at all.
Bad timing… Whatever, the reality was she needed money and she needed it now and, whether she liked it or not, Rand was her only hope. Unfortunately he held the purse strings. She knew the amount she needed would barely dent the value of her father’s estate. But whether this autocratic man would give it to her, she was not so sure. Then any hope Jules had harboured that he might have forgotten about the past was dashed with his next words.
‘So.’ Rand returned his attention to her. ‘I have ordered the seafood special; take my word, you will love it. I do.’ He paused, and Jules felt her heart flutter in her breast, hypnotised by the smouldering warmth in his dark eyes. ‘I love this place.’ He leant back and waved an elegant hand in a gesture at the view and looked around. Released from the magnetic pull of his powerful gaze, Jules concentrated on steadying her breathing, but stifled a gasp of outrage as he continued. ‘I must admit I was surprised you gave up the opportunity to live in this wonderful climate with a wealthy father and the prospect of a handsome husband for the doubtful pleasures of the British climate. Dare I assume you have changed your mind?’ he prompted cynically.
He was doing it again, insulting her; did he take her for a fool or what? ‘No, I have not. People are more important than places,’ Jules said tightly.
‘Forgive me for saying so, but that sounds rather strange coming from a girl like you.’
‘You know nothing about me,’ Jules shot back, bristling with anger at his implication.
‘True.’ Rand leant back in his chair as the waiter appeared with a jug of juice and two glasses, eyeing Jules though narrowed eyes. Amazingly she looked quite genuine in her indignation. He had to admit she was one hell of an actress, and he wondered what else she was good at. He could see the rise and fall of her firm breast beneath the soft linen of her jacket, and again felt a sudden tightening in his groin area he had some difficulty controlling.
Leaning forward to allow his body to subside, he filled a glass with juice. ‘I am so embroiled in my work, I have trouble keeping track of the side issues.’ Rand straightened and held out the glass of orange juice. ‘But it is good to see you again.’
Jules felt the colour rise in her cheeks. ‘Side issue’ said it all, which was all she ever had been to her father or any other man. She reached out and took the glass from him, his long fingers accidentally brushing hers, and felt the tingling effect of his touch right up her arm. But as she controlled her shock her green eyes clashed with deep brown. Was it mockery she saw in the dark depths?
‘Yes, well…’ She cleared her throat, refusing to let her simmering anger show. ‘Given you are so busy, perhaps we can combine lunch with business. I would hate to take up too much of your precious time,’ she suggested, taking control of the situation and, lifting the glass to her mouth, she took a long, cooling swallow.
‘As you like,’ Rand said with a dismissive shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘After all, I am here on behalf of your late father. Perhaps an enquiry on your part about his last illness would not go amiss,’ he prompted sardonically.
‘I had heard nothing from my father in seven years until you called to tell me he was ill. A heart attack, I believe you said, and I have no reason to disbelieve you,’ she offered. ‘For all I know he could have married again. I might even have a brother or sister I know nothing about,’ she suggested dryly, ‘but I am sure you can enlighten me.’ Rand was not going to intimidate her and she boldly held his dark gaze, her own expression, she hoped, one of cool concern.
Her father and her ex-fiancé Enrique had been two of a kind. Arrogant, autocratic tyrants, who thought they could do what they wanted and everyone else had to do as they were told. Jules and her mum had both suffered at their manipulative hands, and she had to be mad to put herself in Rand’s power, she had no doubt he was just the same, but what choice did she have?
First her mother had discovered her husband had a mistress right under her nose, and years later Jules had caught Enrique, Rand’s supposed friend, with Maria, Rand’s fiancée… No, she was not going there, or she might lose her temper completely and tell Rand the truth.
But then again he might already know all about Maria’s unfaithfulness. Maybe that was why he had not married her. Whatever… Jules was not going to ask…
‘I’m sure my father was well looked after to the end.’
‘Oh, he was,’ Rand assured her smoothly. ‘And to ease your mind I can tell you he never married again.’ He paused, his eyes narrowed intently on her delicate face. He would stake his fortune Jules knew damn fine she was the closest living relative of her late father, but he was prepared to play her along for now. ‘And there are no other children,’ he emphasised with an edge of cynicism in his tone. ‘Though it pains me to admit, I had only seen Carlos half a dozen times in the last few years. I have a very efficient manager in the Santiago office and I don’t come to Chile very often, but luckily I was staying at the ranch when he took ill. Too much red meat and too many cigars, a small heart attack that even the doctor thought was nothing too serious, and then a massive one and he died three days later. I attended the funeral, of course.’
‘Good for you,’ Jules said swiftly. ‘I am glad he had someone with him.’ Not that her father was ever alone, living on a ranch with several staff and never without a woman, as far as Jules knew. He had hardly needed Jules as well. But the constant mention of her father was churning up memories she preferred to forget and, pinning a smile on her face, she forced herself to look up into his eyes.
‘But to be honest I did not really know him very well—a few weeks’ holiday every summer for four years. You knew him much better than I.’ She saw a brief flare of some powerful emotion on his face, but was quickly reassured when his firm lips parted into a reciprocal smile.
‘You’re right,