Ice In His Veins. Carole Mortimer

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      Eden was curious to meet this man who had put her mother into such a fluster. It wasn’t easily done, so he must be quite something.

      ‘Mr Earle,’ Suzy gave a shy smile before disappearing.

      Eden’s first impression was of a tall lithe man, the focal point being a pair of steely grey eyes that flickered over them all with cool disdain. He wasn’t merely handsome, that was too weak a description, he was striking, breathtakingly attractive. Eden was struck dumb by the vitality, the magnetism he emitted.

      He was like no one she had ever seen before, had ever expected to meet, the black dinner suit tailored on to his powerful frame, his linen immaculate. In his mid-thirties, she guessed, with a muscular physique that showed no signs of excess flesh, a look of cynicism to his eyes, a hardness to his mouth that should have detracted from his attractiveness but only seemed to make him more so, and dark hair worn over-long but styled.

      She was no longer surprised by her mother’s antagonism; after Drew’s easy going nature this forceful man must be something of a shock to her. She could see Drew was slightly overwhelmed by the other man, despite his assertion that he wouldn’t be. Thank goodness she was looking her best, intending to go to a disco later with Tim. She knew the black velvet cat-suit suited her slender curves, that it made her hair even more golden than usual, made the short cap look like spun gold as it framed her smooth cheeks, giving depth to her golden eyes and colour to her creamy skin.

      The man she knew as Jason Earle shook hands with her stepfather, but for all the notice he took of her she might as well not have been in the room.

      He was talking to her mother now. ‘I expected your daughter to be here,’ he said curtly.

      Her mother gasped. ‘Eden——’

      ‘Yes—Eden,’ he said her name as if he had difficulty in getting it off his tongue. ‘I expected the child to be here.’

      Child! At twenty that was something Eden didn’t consider herself to be. She stepped forward into the light, the smile freezing on her lips as those icy grey eyes swept over her with barely concealed insolence. This man might be devastatingly attractive, but his manners left a lot to be desired.

      She took a deep breath, meeting that critical gaze unflinchingly. ‘I am Eden,’ she told him in a slightly husky voice, her American accent only slight as it had never been encouraged by her mother.

      He looked momentarily taken aback before the cold mask was back in place. ‘You are David Morton’s granddaughter?’

      He gave Eden the impression that he now expected her to deny it. ‘My name is Eden Shaw, but I believe David Morton is my grandfather,’ she told him distantly.

      His irritation was obvious. ‘I expected you to be—younger.’

      ‘Really?’ she raised her eyebrows. ‘My grandfather probably thinks of me as a child, I was two the last time he saw me,’ she added dryly. ‘When you get older you have a way of trying to forget the passing of the years—I’m sure you know that yourself.’ She knew this last was insulting, but this man’s condescending attitude was not something she was prepared to accept.

      He showed by the narrowing of those icy grey eyes that her insult had not gone unnoticed, and by the look on his face it wouldn’t go unpunished either. ‘I’m sure David knows exactly how old you are; he never forgets anything. But now that I’ve seen you for myself I feel I’ve had a wasted journey.’

      ‘Probably,’ she gave a nod of her head.

      ‘Shall we go in to dinner?’ Angela suggested tersely. ‘We can talk about this later.’

      ‘Unfortunately I can’t stay to dinner,’ their guest refused, not looking sorry about it at all. ‘I only came to arrange to take your daughter back to England with me on Monday. I have people to meet for dinner this evening, business acquaintances.’

      ‘I see,’ Angela said tightly, angered by his obvious snub. ‘Then we won’t keep you,’ she dismissed.

      ‘About Monday——’

      ‘As you’ve already realised, Mr Earle——’ Eden interrupted, also aware of his deliberate show of a desire to avoid their company. He must have known that they would assume by his dress that he would be dining with them. God, he was an arrogant swine! ‘I’m old enough to take myself to England if I had any desire to go there. But I don’t, and I have no intention of going to England on Monday or any other time. England has never appealed to me,’ she drawled insolently, ‘and even less so now. I hear one can die of the cold over there without anyone being aware of it,’ she added tauntingly, hoping her double meaning wouldn’t be lost on him.

      Those cold grey eyes raked over her mercilessly, narrowed and speculative. ‘I believe the winters over here can be even more severe,’ he snapped tersely.

      Eden raised one blond eyebrow. ‘Were we talking about the season…?’

      There was a dangerous tension about him now, an aura of anger barely kept in check. ‘Perhaps not,’ he glanced at his wrist-watch. ‘But I don’t have the time right now to persuade you that it would be in your best interest to visit your grandfather.’

      Her harsh laugh rang out. ‘If you’re talking about monetary gain, Mr Earle, you can forget it. The last thing I’ve ever needed from David Morton was money.’

      His look was chilling. ‘Perhaps tomorrow would be a better time to discuss this.’

      ‘Are you sure you can spare the time?’ she asked sweetly. ‘You appear to be rather busy,’ she added by way of explanation, although she knew he was as aware as she was that that hadn’t been her meaning at all.

      His mouth tightened. ‘No, I don’t have the time.’ He appeared unworried by her gasp at his honesty. ‘So perhaps you wouldn’t mind meeting me at my hotel for lunch.’

      Eden didn’t want to meet him again at all, let alone in the privacy of his hotel. ‘I don’t——’

      His mouth curled contemptuously. ‘I didn’t mean in my suite,’ he mocked, ‘but in the dining-room of the hotel. I don’t think either of us has any desire to be alone with the other.’

      ‘I’m afraid it’s out of the question, Mr Earle,’ Angela cut in. ‘We make it a rule to always have Sunday lunch together. It’s the one English tradition I refuse to give up.’

      ‘I see,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Then perhaps dinner would be more convenient?’ He looked straight at Eden.

      She was unnerved by the directness of that gaze. She wished her mother had invited him to lunch tomorrow, although in the circumstances it was perhaps understandable why she hadn’t ‘I—er——’

      ‘Would eight o’clock suit you?’ he took her hesitation for agreement to his suggestion.

      ‘I—Yes, I suppose so.’

      ‘Good,’ he nodded his satisfaction with the arrangement. ‘I’ll call for you here.’

      ‘Wouldn’t it be easier for me to meet you at your hotel?’

      ‘Perhaps,’ СКАЧАТЬ