Millionaire's Woman: The Millionaire's Prospective Wife / The Millionaire's Runaway Bride / The Millionaire's Reward. CATHERINE GEORGEЧитать онлайн книгу.
lunch was going to be the end of the road. Just the state she’d got in over what to wear had convinced her of that.
After William she hadn’t had a date for some time, but when she’d felt ready to go into the arena again she had made sure any hopeful suitors understood pretty quickly that what she had to offer was limited. Fun, friendship, the odd kiss and cuddle but nothing heavy. She had no intention of letting a man into her life, her mind or her body. She needed to be in control of any relationship from the beginning, and she ended things immediately if any man couldn’t keep to the rules of engagement.
She didn’t want to suffer pain again. As she pressed the intercom and told him she would be straight down, Cory’s mouth was tight. Her parents had been unable to love her as parents normally did and William had just reaffirmed that there must be something lacking in her. Something which caused people not to want her like she wanted them. So she’d concentrate on her work, on making a difference in an area where she was needed. And that would suffice. It would, because it had to.
She hadn’t opened the front door of the building for him this time, so when she stepped out into the hot June day Nick was leaning against a snazzy little black sports car parked across the road. He looked…disturbing. His pale blue shirt was tucked into the flat waistband of his trousers and was unbuttoned just enough at the neck to show the beginning of the soft black hair on his chest.
Narrow-waisted and lean-hipped, he had a flagrant masculinity that was impossible to ignore. It was intimidating, and that made her annoyed because she didn’t want to feel intimidated. It put her at a disadvantage even though he couldn’t know how she felt.
‘Hi.’ He walked towards her, his thickly lashed blue eyes appreciative as they took in the pale rose jeans and bubble gum pink flounced strapless top she was wearing. She had left her hair loose today, wearing only a touch of mascara and lip gloss, the wide silver hoops in her ears completing the picture of casual elegance for a hot summer’s day. She had been determined not to dress up too much and by the same token wore the minimum of make-up; she hadn’t wanted him to think she was making an effort—even if it had taken over two hours to decide on her look.
‘Hello.’ She knew her cheeks matched her top but she couldn’t do a thing about it.
‘I’m glad you decided to come,’ he said softly.
Decided to come? She’d been railroaded by an expert and he knew it. She sucked in a shaky breath but her voice was surprisingly firm when she said, ‘The way I remember it, I had little choice?’
‘Ouch.’ He pretended to wince. ‘You were supposed to say, preferably with a sweet smile, that you were glad I’d asked you, that you’ve been looking forward to it, something like that.’
‘Really?’ She provided the sweet smile. ‘But I don’t lie very well.’
He grinned at her, apparently totally unabashed. ‘Then I’ll just have to work hard today to make sure you’re looking forward to our next date, won’t I?’
No way, no how. If ever she’d needed proof she’d inadvertently caught a tiger by the tail, it was in that grin. The word charm had obviously been invented with Nick Morgan in mind. She tried very hard to ignore her racing heart. ‘Surely your model—Miranda, isn’t it?—is back from the States soon?’
They had just reached the car and he brought her round to face him with both hands on her shoulders. He gave her a hard look. ‘One, Miranda isn’t my anything. Two, I’ve no idea when she returns because she’s not obliged to report her whereabouts to me. Three…’ His frown changed to a quizzical ruffle. ‘Three, have you any idea what the feel of your bare shoulders is doing to me?’
Possibly. His shirt was thin and the dark shadow beneath it suggested his powerful chest was thickly covered with hair.
Cory took the coward’s way out. ‘No Mercedes today?’ she said brightly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight croakiness to her voice as she turned and pretended an interest in the car. ‘Is this yours too?’
‘Weekend runabout.’ He opened the passenger door. ‘Purely to impress my legion of women, of course.’
She decided to ignore the sarcasm. After sliding into the car, which gave the sensation that one was sitting at a level with the road, she straightened her back and folded her hands in her lap so she wouldn’t make the mistake of bunching them again and betraying her tenseness as she’d done the night before.
When Nick joined her, it took all of Cory’s control to maintain the pose. The close confines within the car was the ultimate in travelling intimacy and wildly seductive.
As he started the engine she glanced at him. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked with careful steadiness.
‘Surprise.’
‘I don’t like surprises.’
‘Tough.’ The blue eyes did a laser sweep of her face. ‘But don’t worry, I’m not into spiriting women away and forcing my wicked will on them. Not on a Sunday lunchtime anyway,’ he added lazily.
‘I never thought you were.’ She hoped the haughty note had come through in her voice.
‘No?’ He swung the streamlined panther of a car smoothly into the Sunday traffic, his gaze on the road. ‘You could have fooled me. I’m getting the distinct impression you view me as the original Don Juan.’
‘Not at all,’ she said stiffly, refusing to dwell on how large and capable his hands looked on the leather-clad steering wheel, or how those same hands had caressed her last night in the back of the Mercedes.
‘Good.’ It was casual, as though he didn’t care much one way or the other, and as she glanced at him again she saw a small smile was playing about the firm mouth. ‘So, tell me a bit about yourself,’ he went on. ‘I gather you have an aunt living around here with a broken leg. Any more family? And what about siblings to take turns with Rufus the terrible?’
Cory’s heart plummeted. She didn’t want to talk about herself, not to him. She had the feeling that the less Nick knew about her, the better. Still, she could hardly refuse to tell him the basics. ‘My parents died some years ago,’ she said flatly, ‘and I don’t have any brothers or sisters. My Aunt Joan is my closest relative.’
‘And you get on well with her?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She was unaware of the sudden warmth in her voice but the big man at the side of her noted it. ‘She’s always been more than an aunt to me. My parents…well, they were busy people. They didn’t have a lot of time…’ Her voice trailed away as she became aware she was in danger of revealing too much.
‘A peaceful childhood then? With lots of friends to make up for the lack of brothers and sisters?’ he asked casually.
Lots of friends? She had never been allowed to bring friends home or invite anyone round for tea, neither had she been permitted to go to other children’s houses when they had invited her. It had been too much trouble for her parents, interfering with their plans. The string of au pairs her parents had had all through her childhood had been instructed to make sure that, once she had been given her tea, she was despatched up to her room to do her homework. After that she had been allowed to read or watch TV, but never encouraged downstairs except to say goodnight. Her room had been spacious with its own en suite bathroom, and the TV and all her things had been of the best, but it had still felt like a prison.
Cory’s stomach clenched. She looked away through the side window so he had no chance of seeing her face if he glanced at her, the silky curtain of her hair swinging forward. ‘It was quite peaceful at home,’ she agreed evenly.
If he noticed that she had only answered half his question he didn’t comment on it. ‘Any pets?’
In her mother’s immaculate surroundings? ‘No, no pets,’ she said quietly. ‘What about you? Do you have family living near?’
‘Depends whether you think Barnstaple