The Sheikh's Rebellious Mistress. Sandra Marton

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СКАЧАТЬ until that Sunday evening they’d gone into each other’s arms, he’d never done so much as touch her. No matter what else he was—unfeeling, arrogant, heartless—he would never have pawed a woman like this.

      The golf cart deposited them at the hotel.

      The first thing she saw when they entered the atrium lobby was a big sign that said Welcome SOPAC-PBA.

      The second was a huge glass aviary filled with small, vividly colored birds.

      And then she looked down and saw Lipton’s arm as it snaked around her waist, his hand coming to rest just beneath her breast. She jerked away; his hand settled more firmly on her.

      “Reception desk’s right over there,” he said briskly.

      Grace looked at her boss. His eyes were on the desk, not her. It was as if he and the hand were not connected. What now? Struggle? Pull away? No time to do either. They reached the desk and Grace deftly sidestepped. Lipton’s hand fell to his side.

      The clerk flashed a toothy smile. Not at her. At her escort.

      “Sir?”

      “James Lipton the Fourth,” Lipton said briskly.

      “Of course. Mr. Lipton. Delighted to have you with us, sir. Welcome to Bali.”

      Still no acknowledgment of Grace, but why would there be? Lipton was the big attraction. She was invisible until he’d been dealt with. That was the way it went. Hadn’t she seen it happen enough when she was with—with her prior employer?

      Lipton didn’t bother with niceties. “I take it my suite is ready?”

      “Certainly, sir. If you’d be good enough to sign here… Excellent. Thank you.” The clerk snapped his fingers. A boy dressed in a brightly flowered shirt and khaki shorts came running. “Wayan. Escort our guests to the Presidential Suite.”

      The boy reached for their luggage. Lipton reached for Grace. Grace did another quick sidestep.

      “My name is Hud— My name is Hunter,” she said pleasantly. “Grace Hunter. I have a reservation of my own.”

      “Nonsense,” Lipton said, as if Grace weren’t there. “Miss Hunter is my assistant. She will share my suite.”

      “I’m not your assistant,” Grace said. “I’m the chief auditor of your bank.”

      What a stupid thing to say. The expression on the clerk’s face said as much.

      “I mean,” she said carefully, “there’s been an error. I arranged for—”

      “Grace.” Lipton spoke softly, but there was no mistaking the steel in his voice. “We are here on business. I have reserved a two bedroom, two bath suite. It has a dining room, a sitting room—all we’ll require so we can confer whenever necessary and meet with other attendees in complete privacy. Do you have a problem with that?”

      He made it sound so reasonable but yes, she had a problem…

      “Grace?”

      Lipton’s eyes were as cold as his tone. What now? Make a scene in front of the bright-eyed desk clerk? Find a way to get back to San Francisco on her own? Lose the job it had taken her two months to land without a letter of reference?

      No one knew better than she what it was like to be at the mercy of a ruthless, powerful man.

      “Grace? I asked if you had a problem assisting me on this trip.”

      She looked at him. His expression was disdainful, his eyes icy. Grace took a deep breath.

      “Not at all,” she said politely. “Not when you explain it so well.”

      Lipton smiled. She was certain there were sharks with fewer teeth.

      They followed the bellman to a suite that took up half the top floor. The boy pointed out the white sand beach, the view of the sea, the sixty-inch plasma TV, the Waterford chandeliers, the Gauguin prints on the walls.

      The only things that mattered to Grace were that her bathroom was accessible only through her bedroom and that there was a lock on the bedroom door.

      She secured it the second the boy left and, for two days, un-did it only when she was ready to leave the suite. She ignored Lipton’s suggestions she join him for drinks. For dinner. For breakfast. For anything and everything unless it involved other people. He made no comment, but the tension between them had grown palpable and she suspected he wasn’t going to let things go on this way much longer.

      But then, she wasn’t going to give him a choice. He’d behave. He’d admit defeat.

      That was possible, wasn’t it? Maybe she was overreacting.

      Grace gave an unladylike snort.

      Powerful men, men who believed they owned the world, never admitted defeat. How could she have let herself be sucked into a situation like this? She’d been through this dance before.

      The great career opportunity. The boss who seemed cold and reserved but began to unbend after a few after-hours meetings that certainly appeared to be strictly business, followed by a pleasant afternoon you couldn’t even call a date. And then—and then—

      A soft moan of despair rose in her throat.

      “Liar,” she whispered as she sank down on the edge of the bed. “Liar, liar, liar.”

      Grace took a deep, shuddering breath.

      This wasn’t the same at all.

      She had never wanted Lipton’s mouth on hers, his hands on her breasts, his body hard against hers. Never dreamed the kind of dreams she hadn’t even known women had until she’d met one man, one gorgeous, exciting man. Until she’d gone to work for Salim al Taj and broken every rule she believed in by falling into his arms, his bed, by becoming his lover, becoming the kind of woman she knew he would never want.

      Why think about that now? Months had gone by. Their affair had ended just as it had started, with a suddenness that still shocked her. Not that she gave a damn. At least she’d salvaged her pride. He had tried to take it from her, but she’d put a stop to that, leaving him before he could leave her.

      “Grace?” The rap at the door was sharp and imperious. So was Lipton’s voice. “Grace. We have an appointment at eight.” The doorknob rattled. “And I’m tired of this nonsense! There is no reason for this door to be locked.”

      There was every reason, just as there was every reason to quit this job as soon as they were back in the States. She’d find something else, even if it meant waiting on tables or clerking in a store. Both were honest ways to make a living and the people you dealt with weren’t scum like her boss had turned out to be.

      “Damn it, Grace, come out of that room at once!”

      Grace smoothed the skirt of her pale green silk dress, picked up her purse, went to the door and opened it.

      Her boss’s expression was grim but his eyes, as they swept over her, glittered with heat. СКАЧАТЬ