Bargaining with the Billionaire: The Blackmail Bargain / The Billion-Dollar Bride / How To Marry a Billionaire. Элли Блейк

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СКАЧАТЬ with wonder and a growing appreciation. For some reason it seemed rude to explore, so she sat in an elegant and extremely comfortable chair on the wide veranda and tried to empty her mind of everything but the way the sun glinted on the harbour.

      When the skin tightened between her shoulder blades, she glanced up, and saw Curt walking towards her.

      Awkwardly she got up, angry because she’d weakly followed Liz’s suggestion to leave on the lion-coloured cotton trousers and the sleeveless T-shirt—made interesting, so Liz had announced, by the mesh overlay.

      ‘They show off those splendid shoulders,’ she’d said, slipping a choker of wooden beads in the same golden tones around Peta’s throat.

      She’d agreed because she felt good in the outfit, but now she could only think that the top exposed far too much skin to Curt’s narrowed eyes.

      And that’s why you left it on, she thought in self-disgust.

      She thought of his mouth on her skin, and to her horror her breasts burned and their centres budded in immediate response. He had to notice.

      He had noticed; his gaze heated and his mouth curved in the mirthless smile of a hunter sighting prey.

      A combustible mixture of satisfaction, distrust and humiliation drove her to ask harshly, ‘I hope it’s worth the expense.’

      His lashes drooped and he stopped and surveyed her at his leisure—for all the world, she thought indignantly, like some pasha checking out the latest slave girl in the harem.

      It was her own fault; she’d given him the opportunity to ram home just how much at his disposal she was.

      ‘Absolutely,’ he said smoothly. ‘Would you like a drink?’

      She nodded. ‘Something long and cool would be lovely.’

      ‘Wine?’ Curt suggested, walking up the steps to the veranda.

      She said jerkily, ‘Yes, please, but I’d better have some water first. I’m thirsty and I don’t want to drink too fast.’

      ‘Wise woman.’ He poured a long glass of water from a jug with lemon slices floating on the surface, and handed it over. Surprisingly, he poured another for himself before indicating a recliner. ‘Sit down; you look tired. Did Liz wear you out?’

      Somehow lying back on the recliner seemed too intimate, as though she was displaying her body for his scrutiny. She chose a nearby chair instead. ‘I had no idea trying on clothes could be so exhausting.’

      Curt smiled and sat down in another chair. He’d changed from the formal business suit into a pair of light trousers that hugged his narrow hips and muscular thighs. His short-sleeved cotton shirt was open at the neck.

      So much untrammelled masculine magnetism took her breath away. Peta took refuge behind her glass and fixed her gaze on the view.

      ‘Liz is a perfectionist,’ he observed, ‘and like her mother, she’s ruthlessly efficient. We’re not going out tonight, so you can go to bed early if you want to.’

      She took another mouthful of water, letting it slip down her throat. ‘I thought the idea was to show ourselves off.’

      ‘Not tonight,’ he said.

      She stared at him. ‘Why?’

      ‘Think, Peta,’ he drawled in the tone she had come to hate. ‘We haven’t seen each other for three days. Why would we want to go out when we can spend the evening alone together?’ He invested the final sentence with a mocking tone that didn’t hide the underlying purr of sensuality.

      ‘Oh,’ she said numbly. Something twisted in the pit of her stomach, a sharp urgency that played havoc with her concentration. She took another sip and swallowed it too quickly.

      Curt said, ‘I thought you might want to ring and make sure that everything’s all right at home.’

      ‘Yes, I’ll do that.’ She began to stand up.

      ‘Finish your drink first. Joe won’t be in yet.’

      Slowly she drank down the rest of the water while he spoke of the latest entertainment scandal. From there they moved on to books, discovering that although they liked different authors, they had enough in common to fuel a lively discussion.

      Then Curt poured a glass of cool, pale gold wine for her, and somehow they drifted into the perilous field of politics. To Peta’s astonishment he listened to her, and even when he disagreed with what she said he didn’t resort to ridicule.

      It was powerfully stimulating.

      Laughing over his caustic summation of one particularly media-hungry member of parliament, she realised incredulously that she was fascinated by more than his male charisma. And this attraction of the mind, she thought warily, was far more dangerous than lust.

      He was watching her, his eyes sharply analytical, waiting for her to answer. Dry-mouthed, she said, ‘I suppose you have to deal with people like that all the time.’

      His brows drew together in a faint frown. ‘Most of them are reasonably decent people struggling to juggle a hunger for power with a desire to do some good for the country,’ he said, and glanced at his watch. ‘Do you want to ring Joe now?’

      ‘Yes, thank you.’ The sun was already setting behind the high, forested hills on the western horizon.

      He took a sleek mobile phone from his pocket and handed it over. Their fingers touched, and the awareness that had merely smouldered for the past half-hour burst into flames again.

      ‘You need to put the number in,’ Curt said softly.

      ‘Yes.’ Start thinking, she told herself, and clumsily punched in her number, staring at the harbour through the screen of the trees.

      Five minutes later she handed back the telephone, taking care to keep her fingers away from his. ‘Everything’s fine,’ she said lightly, addressing his top shirt button. ‘Laddie’s decided that as Joe is feeding him, he’d better obey Joe’s calls. Which is good going on Joe’s part, because a lot of the time Laddie doesn’t take any notice of me.’

      He asked her about training a cattle dog. Later she thought that he couldn’t have any interest in the trials of coaxing an adolescent dog to deal sensibly with calves, but he seemed interested, laughing when she confessed some of the mistakes she and the dog had made.

      They ate dinner out on the veranda while the summer evening faded swiftly into a night filled with the sibilant whisper of waves on the beach below, and the fragrance of flowers in the gathering darkness. Fat white candles gleamed in glass cylinders, their steady flames catching the velvety petals of roses in the centre of the table, winking on the silver and the wineglasses.

      And picking out with loving fidelity the strong bones and dramatically sensual impact of the man opposite.

      The whole scene was straight out of House and Garden, Peta thought cynically, trying to protect herself from succumbing to the seductive promise of romantic fantasy.

      She managed it, but only just. And only, СКАЧАТЬ