Australia: Wicked Mistresses. Robyn Grady

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Towering potted palms, mirror-polished marble counters, exquisitely crafted teak furniture, fresh sprays of exotic flowers … Surrounded by such luxury, in “guest” versus “employee” mode, she felt the dizzy scent of excess fill her head.

      Spending last night with Gabriel in that cabin had been like a beautiful elixir, a once-in-a-lifetime experience which would live for ever in her mind and her heart. Being here in this setting, about to be with Gabriel again, was possibly an even headier thrill. After spending hours packing dishwashers, the sight of that cushiony white couch was almost enough to convince her that indulgence—this kind of over-the-top lavish extravagance—wasn’t so offensive after all. She would love to lie back on the couch and put her feet up.

      Massaging the weary small of her spine, she did another sweep of the main room. Gabriel wasn’t here. Limping slightly, she edged towards the opened concertina doors.

      The full moon spilled a shimmering river of gold across an otherwise black sea. The scent of salt and natural floral perfumes filled the warm air, and on the deck Gabriel stood with a phone pressed to his ear. He wore dark tailored trousers and a crisp white Oxford shirt. His sleeves were rolled to below the elbow, leaving tanned corded forearms exposed. His dark hair was freshly showered, wet and stylishly messy.

      The overall picture—complete with a vee of wiry hair visible at his throat and broad shoulders adorned in silk weave—was enough for Nina to clutch at her fast-beating heart. She hadn’t thought he could be more attractive than when she’d first seen him—muscles pumped and bare chest battle-whipped.

      She’d been wrong.

      Without trying, he dominated any scene.

      Angling around, Gabriel spotted her. He nodded twice into the phone, gave a parting remark, then disconnected and moved towards her.

      “Important call?” she asked, when she might easily have said, The sight of you turns my legs to jelly.

      “My second in charge,” he said, sauntering nearer. “Zane Rutley knows as much about my company as I do, but he likes to keep me up to date. Says there’s no rest for the wicked.”

      “You’ve known him long?”

      “Since university. We duxed Management Accounting and Strategy.”

      “Ooh, bad boys.”

      He grinned. “I can’t speak for Zane.”

      She didn’t know about Zane Rutley either, but Gabriel Steele could make any woman melt at a hundred paces. His every move was measured, exact, and at the same time effected with inherent masculine grace. Her cheeks heated. Although he hadn’t touched her yet, she was already simmering inside.

      When he stopped before her, she expected his mouth to break into his trademark sexy-as-sin smile. She expected him to sweep her up and kiss her as he’d kissed her through the magical hours of last night. But his lopsided grin remained fixed, and the gleam in his eye seemed somehow … cool.

      She felt a little off balance when his fingers curled around her arm and his freshly shaved cheek rubbed lightly against hers.

      His lips brushed her temple. “How was your afternoon?”

      “Busy.” Her ankle throbbed to punctuate the point.

      He drew away and assessed her butter-yellow dress, his gaze deliberately trailing her shape in a vaguely predatory fashion before he ushered her, a hand on her elbow, towards the outdoor setting.

      He indicated an ice bucket. “Champagne?”

      “You said you’d have it poured,” she teased.

      “Nothing worse than when bubbles go flat.”

      He popped the cork, and foam spilled over the rim to darken the timber near his feet. To take her mind off his intoxicating sandalwood scent, she inspected the champagne label.

      “My father used to keep a couple of bottles of that for special occasions.”

      “It’s a rare vintage.” He handed her a glass. “Is your father here with you on the island?”

      The breath went out of her. “He died a few years ago.”

      His gaze jumped up from his pouring of a second glass. His searching eyes clouded and his voice dropped. “Nina … I’m sorry.”

      She sighed quietly. Gabriel could be so strong, yet there were times, like now, he could be so sensitive. As if he truly knew her. Knew her like no one else could.

      But then he cleared his throat, raised his glass to his lips, and the deeper moment was gone.

      “I bumped into someone this afternoon.” He sipped, swallowed. “He told me the most fascinating story.”

      He was watching her over the rim of his glass and the glint in his eyes now seemed almost steely. She’d seen a few sides to Gabriel—uncompromising hero, charmer, believer, lover. When they’d left the cabin this morning he’d been cagey. But the vibes she caught now didn’t fit with any of that.

      That pointed gleam in his gaze was enough to make her shiver. Who was the “someone” he’d spoken with?

      She sipped champagne without tasting it and when he didn’t divulge more she asked, “What did this man say?”

      A humourless smile tugged one side of his mouth. “I thought you might like to tell me.”

      Her breath died in her chest. She closed her eyes as her stomach rolled over twice, then sank to her knees. Her throat convulsed and she swallowed.

      “You know.”

      His chin went up. “I know.”

      She’d been caught out before she’d had the chance to come clean. Someone had let on that she was an employee of the island and, given the hard line of his jaw, Gabriel wasn’t pleased.

      She managed to keep her voice steady. “Gabriel, let me explain—”

      “I will. But first …”

      His palm scooped behind her neck and his mouth opened over hers. The lip-to-lip contact sent jets of recognition shooting through her veins. Every cell in her body seemed to tremble, light up and press in. The renewed awareness was so strong, so vital, it was all she could do to remember that …

      That this kiss was different.

      Rougher.

      Dominating.

      When their lips parted, her world had slanted and the room seemed to spin. A pulse beat wildly in his cheek, and if he released her there was every possibility she might slide to the floor. As if reading her thoughts, he dragged out a chair. Numbness taking over, she fell into the seat.

      “I took the liberty of ordering,” he told her, gesturing to the silver domes set on the table while her mind whirled on. He lifted one dome and the aroma of lobster mornay, scalloped potatoes and buttered asparagus filled her lungs.

      He folded СКАЧАТЬ