Mistress to the Merciless Millionaire. Эбби Грин
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Название: Mistress to the Merciless Millionaire
Автор: Эбби Грин
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Modern
isbn: 9781408912911
isbn:
Things had become heated and urgent in seconds, and only that telling movement she’d made, which had brought him back to sanity, had stopped the night ending a lot differently.
Tiarnan’s focus came back from the heat of that memory. The vividness of it shocked him. He knew if he was asked he wouldn’t be able to recall his last sexual liaison with such clarity. He stepped away from the window with a jerky movement and did the only thing he could do to ensure he’d have a modicum of sleep that night. He took a cold shower and vowed to himself as he did so that very soon he’d have Kate Lancaster in his bed—once that had happened these provocative memories would return to where they belonged: in the past.
Madrid, one week later
‘Signorina Lancaster, you have a call.’
The phone felt slippery in Kate’s hand. She knew who it was, and her body was already responding as if he was right there in the room with her.
‘Gracias.’
She heard a click on the line and then a voice, deep, authoritative. ‘Kate.’
His voice reached right down inside her and caused a quiver. She pressed her legs together and gripped the phone even tighter.
‘Tiarnan. What a surprise.’
‘Hardly,’ he responded drily. ‘I live about ten minutes from your hotel, and Sorcha told me you’d got the messages I’ve left. Apparently you’ve been too busy to get back to me.’
‘I did speak to her earlier—and, yes, I’ve been extremely busy.’
‘But now you’re finished working?’
‘Yes.’ Relief rushed through her. Escape was in sight. She was still getting over the shock of having been sent on this lastminute assignment to Madrid—right into Tiarnan’s territory, and so soon after their last meeting. Which she had no intention of repeating.
‘I’m going home tomorrow—’
‘Evening,’ Tiarnan finished smoothly for her. ‘So you have plenty of time to let us take you for lunch tomorrow.’
‘I’m afraid I—’ Kate stopped. He’d said us.
‘Rosie is here. She’d like to see you.’
The words of a lame excuse died in Kate’s throat. As much as she hated him for doing this to her, she knew that he would never in a million years use Rosie in any kind of manipulative way. He would know that she’d spent time with Rosie, but probably had very little idea just how much. Kate liked Rosie. She’d used to help Sorcha look after her whenever Tiarnan was in New York on business—which had been frequently enough, as he had offices there. He had sometimes left Rosie with Sorcha for a night or two a couple of times a year when she’d been younger. It had always turned into a joint effort, as Sorcha had been living with Kate in New York until just before she’d met her husband.
Sorcha, up until her pregnancy and the birth of her own daughter, hadn’t possessed a maternal bone in her body, so Kate had always been the one to make sure Rosie was wrapped up warm, had eaten well and was tucked in at night. Sorcha used to joke that Kate had been born with a double helping of maternal instinct to make up for the lack of her mother’s. The three of them would go to Central Park on adventures, or to the movies and for ice cream afterwards. Kate had always felt a kinship with the small, serious dark-haired child, whose mother had all but abandoned her after her divorce from Tiarnan.
‘I’d like to see Rosie too. It’s been a while.’ Kate’s voice felt husky, and already in her head she was rationalising giving in. She was leaving tomorrow evening, and with Rosie at lunch too Tiarnan was hardly going to ravish her, was he? And then once she got back to New York she’d be safe again…it would be fine.
‘Good. We’ll pick you up at midday from the lobby. See you then, Kate.’
And with those softly spoken last words, almost like a caress, the phone line went dead and Kate had the horrible feeling that everything was not going to be fine.
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