Название: Hotbed of Scandal: Mistress: At What Price? / Red Wine and Her Sexy Ex / Bedded by Blackmail
Автор: Kate Hardy
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781472044860
isbn:
Half an hour later, in his own jeans and T-shirt, Dane headed south along the coast with Mariel. They passed low rolling hills the colour of dried toast and a blue summer sea. The road, busy with tourists eager to reach the resort town, stretched out before them.
‘Have you read the article in this morning’s paper?’
‘No time.’ She reached for the paper at her feet, flicked through it until she came to the society pages and the photo of the two of them descending the staircase that led to the ballroom.
‘Well?’ he said into the ensuing silence.
‘“New Year’s latest celebrity couple,”’ she read aloud. ‘“How long will it be before our popular Bachelor of the Year steps down?”’ He heard the slide of denim as she rubbed her knuckles over her thighs. ‘It gives the impression we wanted.’
She read on in silence for a moment. ‘Plenty of publicity for OzRemote. It says you’re heading north in just over a week.’ She folded the paper, set it at her feet.
‘I arranged it around my work schedule. Justin’s going to hold the fort. Come with me.’ He didn’t realise he had voiced the thought until he felt her 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 СКАЧАТЬ