No Longer A Dream. Кэрол Мортимер

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      ‘In mind?’ She was standing now, aware that she barely reached this man's shoulder in her bare feet, also aware that the two-inch heels on her shoes wouldn't make that much difference either.

      He pulled a face. ‘The casting-couch may be long dead, but the bed isn't.’ He gave the latter a derisive look, its tumbled look showing evidence of their presence there together.

      Cat swallowed hard. ‘You think—that is—you believe—–'

      He once again crossed his arms in front of his powerful chest. ‘Did the director prove difficult?' he mocked. ‘If it was Maurice Goodson I'm not surprised.’ His mouth twisted. ‘He's a happily married man and never touches other women.'

      ‘I'm glad to hear it,’ she bit out tautly. ‘Maybe some of his scruples will rub off on you—–'

      ‘I'm not married,’ he told her coldly. ‘And not intending to be.’ He studied her between narrowed lids. ‘So if that's the role you're after, kid, forget it.'

      She didn't know whether she was more angry at being called ‘kid’ or at the way he assumed she had gone to bed with him because she had in mind being the next Mrs Caleb Steele. She decided the latter more urgently needed rebuttal. ‘You flatter yourself if you think I would even consider marrying someone as cold and arrogant as you,’ she dismissed hardly. ‘And contrary to what you think there's more to life, my life, than using people for gain. The real world isn't like that!'

      ‘The real world is exactly like that,’ he derided pityingly.

      ‘Not my world,’ she insisted. ‘I don't want anything from you, Mr Steele. Whatever happened between us last night was not planned. I don't want payment, in any way, shape, or form for it. You—–'

      ‘You know,’ he remarked softly, almost conversationally, ‘it's as well we didn't get to do too much talking last night; I can't stand women that nag.'

      ‘You—you—–'

      ‘Go take your shower, Cat,’ he dismissed in a bored voice. ‘And take this with you.'

      ‘This’ was the shimmering green dress she had worn the evening before and which he had just picked up from the bedroom floor, reminding her more forcefully than anything else could have done that she had casually spent the night with this man. She felt as if she didn't know herself any more, so why should Caleb Steele!

      She snatched the dress from his hand, looking around for the lace panties that were all she had worn beneath the clinging material, her cheeks colouring anew as she saw Caleb Steele was holding those out to her, too. They were really just the minutest scrap of pale green lace, and she crushed it within her hand.

      ‘We'll talk as soon as you've had your shower,’ he told her confidently, picking up the telephone at the end of the statement, talking crisply into the receiver as he ordered a full breakfast for both of them.

      Cat hastily shut the bathroom door before his talk of grilled food made her physically ill. How could this have happened to her? She had come to the party last night in all innocence. Admittedly it was a little wilder than she had anticipated, the majority of the guests appearing to be around the nineteen or twenty mark as their young host was. She hadn't particularly liked that cynical young man from the beginning, and she had a fair idea that he had been the one who had doctored her drinks, seeming to dislike her as much as she disliked him. When his father had appeared on the scene she didn't know, but he obviously had, and with the alcohol in her system she had gone to bed with him. Which was very strange, because usually she just passed out!

      She didn't believe she had made love with Caleb Steele, no matter what he said to the contrary!

      She turned straight round and marched back into the bedroom, no longer caring that she wore only the draped sheet. ‘You're a lying, rotten, lousy—–’ She broke off as she realised Caleb Steele was no longer alone, that an older man had joined him, a well-dressed pleasant-faced man who appeared to be taking instructions when she entered the room. And from the cursory glance he gave in her direction, the blue eyes completely devoid of emotion, he found nothing unusual in seeing a sheet-wrapped woman walking about his employer's bedroom suite!

      Black eyes met her stormy green ones with icy disdain. And then Caleb Steele turned away and resumed his business discussion with the man at his side.

      Cat couldn't believe it, had never been dismissed in such a way before! It was just as if she were of no importance at all. She drew in an angry breath. ‘I said—–'

      ‘I heard you.’ His head snapped up. ‘It may have escaped your notice,’ he drawled with heavy sarcasm, ‘but I'm busy right now.'

      Busy! He was busy. She was trying to regain her self-respect and he was busy! It may be clichéd, but who the hell did he think he was! The answer to that was all too obvious, but who he was and the amount of money he was worth, didn't much matter to her at this moment. Who she was, and the amount of money she wasn't worth didn't mean Caleb Steele could dismiss her like an old shirt! If he treated all of his women in this way it was no wonder his affairs didn't last.

      ‘You may be busy, Mr Steele—–’ her chin rose challengingly when his associate at last showed surprise—at her formality with the man who's bedroom she stood almost naked in. It was the erroneous impression her appearance gave that made her carry on in spite of the cold anger emitting from Caleb Steele. ‘But I want to talk to you. Now,’ she added firmly as she guessed he was about to dismiss her a second time. ‘Unless you would care to discuss what happened in that bed last night in front of an audience?'

      The man at his side gave a choked sound, somewhere between a cough and a laugh, beginning to cough in earnest as that coal-black gaze was suddenly riveted on him.

      ‘You sound bad, Norm,’ his employer grated with icy insincerity. ‘Why don't you go and get yourself a cup of coffee and we'll continue with this later. When you're feeling better.’ The last was added threateningly.

      ‘Sure.’ The other man spoke for the first time, American like his employer. ‘I—er—nice to have met you, Miss—er—–'

      ‘Cat,’ Caleb Steele put in icily before she could make any reply. ‘And believe me,’ he drawled suggestively, ‘she more than lives up to her name!’ He flexed his shoulders as if something there pained him.

      Like claw marks, from a cat! And she knew damn well that except for that fine covering of dark hair his back was smooth and unmarked.

      A speculative light entered the man Norm's eyes. ‘Perhaps we'll meet again, Cat,’ he murmured in a somewhat puzzled voice, as if for once he were surprised at his employer's choice of a bed-partner.

      ‘I doubt that,’ she answered him but looked at Caleb Steele. ‘I wound to kill!'

      ‘Yes. Well,’ the older man looked flustered now, ‘I'll talk to you later, Caleb.’ He made a hasty exit before he was caught in the verbal war that seemed to be taking place in the bedroom.

      Caleb Steele looked at her with expressionless black eyes. ‘And just how do you intend to wound me, Catherine Howard?’ he challenged in a softly threatening voice.

      Her eyes flashed. ‘If I had any sense I'd stab you in the back the way my namesake should have done Henry the Eighth! You're as lying and deceitful as he ever was!’ She СКАЧАТЬ