‘I’m sure you know.’
‘And I’m sure I don’t.’ Iron ran like a threat through his tone. ‘Explain it.’
She bit her lip. Her damnable temper had to erupt at the very worst time, summoned by the intense frustration that tore her composure to tatters. If he hadn’t lifted his head and looked into her face she’d have willingly co-operated in her own seduction.
This humiliating knowledge spurred her on. ‘Simply that whatever you want from women is easily found. It means nothing more than momentary pleasure.’
His smile was cynical, almost cruel. ‘Indeed?’ he said with cool indifference, and stooped and crushed her startled mouth beneath his.
The kiss was over in a heartbeat, but while it lasted her lips had shaped to his.
‘Momentary?’ he murmured, his tone insultingly relaxed.
Shame burned like acid, concealing a pain she refused to face. She was too unsophisticated to play teasing, sexual games. Keeping her face averted, she walked beneath the bold heat of the sun and tried to ignore the man beside her.
He said, ‘And what makes you think I see sex as a game between men and women? Did Juliette tell you that?’
The ice in his words scraped along her nerves. ‘I’d have to be stupid not to know that women are, always obtainable—’ her voice invested the word with scorching disdain ‘—when you’re rich.’
‘A certain sort of woman,’ he agreed silkily. ‘But greed is not exclusive to the female sex—a certain type of man is always on the lookout for rich women. And you’re evading my question.’
They had reached the limits of the garden; automatically courteous, he reached to unlatch the gate and stood back to let her go through it first. Moving as carefully as though he were a tiger in ambush, she walked past him.
‘You have no right to ask that question,’ she said with steady composure. ‘My conversations with Juliette were private.’
He said with clinical assurance, ‘So she did.’
Paige waited tensely for him to reject the accusation, but he remained silent while they walked through the splendid gardens, past the tennis court and between two large citrus trees, glowing with burnished fruit like a treasure beyond price.
He startled her by observing with a judicial lack of emotion, ‘Your father’s defection presumably hit you hard, and making friends with Sherry would reinforce your belief that people exploit each other.’
Anger lit her eyes and tightened her lips—lips that still stung from his kisses. ‘We’ve had this conversation before.’
‘I’m just surprised that you accept her solution.’ He held back a wet branch so that she didn’t get drenched. Great drops fell like tears at his touch.
Paige cast him a glinting, dangerous glance. ‘She does what she has to,’ she said steadily. ‘Women do, you know—we survive, and for some of us it’s not easy or particularly pleasant.’
‘Then why aren’t you stripping with your friend on the stage?’ He slashed her with a survey as blue and hard as the gleam in a diamond.
Paige stiffened as his gaze travelled from the vulnerable length of her throat to her breasts, and then on to the apex of her body, assessing the contours of her legs beneath her trousers, and back up to her face, by then pale and set.
He said with brutal frankness, ‘You’ve a good body, and you dance like a dream. You could probably earn as much as she does.’
Paige’s teeth ravaged her bottom lip. ‘It’s not my scene,’ she said finally.
‘Then how about this—I will pay you to stay with me for—oh, shall we say a year? At the end of the year you’ll be free to go.’
Paige gasped, her breath almost strangling her. He couldn’t mean it—no, of course he didn’t mean it. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
Smoothly, with enough cruel irony in his tone to set her skin crawling, he finished, ‘Those kisses made it more than clear that there is nothing ridiculous about the proposition. I’d guess it would take us a year at least to tire of each other.’
Pain blocked her throat. She could only walk beside him and listen to his silkily dispassionate voice tear down dreams she hadn’t known she’d been harbouring.
‘Of course when it was over I’d make sure you had enough money to set you up in whatever business you desire, and keep you for a couple of years while it was getting onto its feet.’ He paused, but when she said nothing he went on, still in that coldly amused tone, ‘All you have to do is satisfy me. I can certainly promise to satisfy you.’
‘I am not a prostitute,’ Paige ground out, staring wretchedly at a hibiscus flower, brazenly scarlet with its silken petals gleaming. She didn’t dare look at Marc, because he might guess that just for an instant—for a shameless fraction of a second—she’d been tempted.
‘I rest my case.’
She stopped and jerked around to face him, eyes glittering in her stormy face. ‘But I don’t know what I’d do if I had a baby to look after! Sherry believes that all she’s got to offer is her body. She wants to make sure Brodie never has to endure the sort of childhood she had, and to do that she’s got to have a financial stake. She’s getting it the fastest way she can.’
She stopped, infuriated by the inflexible expression on his boldly marked features. ‘And you—’ she finished with loathing ‘—you’re a narrow-minded snob.’
His expression didn’t change. ‘Whereas your loyalty seems to be exceeded only by your gullibility. Women like Sherry move through any level of society. The ones I meet are more sophisticated, but essentially they have the same practical attitude.’
Something in the deep voice caught her attention, yet she couldn’t decide what it was. Was he thinking of his mistress?
She began to walk towards the house, saying unsteadily, ‘It would probably do you good to be in her shoes for a year. Then you might learn not to judge people.’
Marc watched her march away, shoulders erect, her stifflegged fury unable to overcome the seductive, entirely unconscious sway of her hips. Fickle sunlight poured over her hair, turning it into a fall of dark honey-amber, still tousled by the rake of his fingers when he’d kissed her. Her skin echoed the colour, softened it and turned it into a pale, delicate glow so that she shimmered like a figurine, rare and precious and too delicate.
Heat slammed through him—heat that resisted the icy chill of logic and common sense. He bit back searing words and followed her, catching her up in two smooth, powerful strides.
At the intersection of two paths presided over by a superb marble Pan, she hesitated, not sure which way to go.
‘To the left,’ Marc directed abruptly, looking past her down that path. The cold control that had locked his features into stillness altered as he said smoothly, ‘Ah, Lauren’s arrived. She’s an executive in Corbett’s. In fact, although you haven’t been formally introduced, you’ve met her—she was with me in Napier. She has a special interest in New Zealand.’
Paige swung around and watched with an oddly kicking heart as the tall woman came towards them. So this was the woman who had darkened Juliette’s life. She suspected that she knew exactly what that special interest was—the man beside her.
Pain raked her with unsheathed claws; she took in a long, silent breath, stiffened her spine and angled her chin, wounded pride providing the courage to smile as she was introduced to the woman whose mocking voice she’d never forgotten.
Sleekly elegant, Lauren Porter possessed something a lot more special than conventional beauty—intelligence, and a knowledgeable sophistication that irradiated her fine features. And she had the same aura of confidence as Marc, an inbuilt assurance that set Paige’s defences slamming up. She looked younger than Marc, but probably only by a couple of years.
Juliette would have had no defences against a woman like this.
After that initial softening Marc’s unbreakable control masked his emotions, but his executive gave Paige a warm smile.
‘So we meet again. Are you enjoying your visit to the island?’
Lauren Porter asked.
‘Very much, thank you.’ Paige’s voice sounded stiff but pleasant.
Before the other woman could answer Marc interpolated smoothly, ‘And we’re both a little damp, thanks to that last shower. Let’s go inside.’
Back in her bedroom, Paige changed and showered and wondered at the smiling regard Marc’s mistress had turned on her. She seemed very—well, pleasant. But pleasant was a nothing word, emotionless and without juice. And beneath that charming exterior there had to be much more than mere pleasantness.
Raging sexual desire, perhaps.
Paige’s hand stole up to touch her lips. She clamped them tight to stop them trembling, feeling as though she’d walked through a barred gate onto a pathway leading down to destruction.
Which was ridiculous; she’d been kissed before.
Not often, she admitted reluctantly. As her mother had sunk into illness her friends had fallen away, so there had been no kisses after the unpractised ones stolen by the occasional boy at high school.
Perhaps her response to Marc was an indication of how utterly green and inexperienced she was; his lovemaking might not be anything special at all.
Perhaps any man might have that effect on her.
She shuddered with disgust, remembering her boss. Well, not any man…but any man she wanted. As for Marc; next time—if there was a next time!—his touch set off erotic explosions all through her, she had to remember why she disliked and distrusted him.
If she weakened at all towards him she could expect eventual rejection and bitter desolation.
Changing into jeans and a white shirt, she wondered miserably where Lauren Porter had bought her sleek black trousers and the pure red top made from merino wool as fine as silk. The black jacket over it was certainly leather, and so were the red gloves tucked dashingly into the pocket.
A very classy lady, Paige thought wearily. She examined herself in the mirror, then shrugged. She was no competition.
So why had Marc kissed her senseless? What would Lauren think if she knew? Perhaps a worldly woman wouldn’t care how many other lovers he had.
Whereas if he was hers she’d scratch the eyes out of—
‘No!’ she said as her appalled gaze flew to the hands curling into claws at her sides.
Oh, no. Apart from being the most appalling disloyalty to Juliette, she was so far out of her league she might as well be a sparrow hunted by an eagle.
Not that she liked that idea, either. A nice domestic tabby, she decided with a mocking smile at her idiocy, in the den of a blue-eyed tiger.
Paige swallowed an uncomfortable obstruction in her throat and fastened an interested, alert, uninvolved look to her face before sallying out to confront Marc.
But when she steeled herself to walk casually into the room Marc had told her they’d meet in she found it empty. Not for long, however; the housekeeper arrived hot on her heels.
‘I’m sorry,’ Mrs Oliver said without preamble, ‘but Marc asked me to tell you that there’s an emergency—business, not personal—so he won’t be able to dine with you tonight.’
Paige fought down the infuriating spasm of disappointment underlying her quick relief. ‘I hope it’s nothing too bad?’
Mrs Oliver said with complete confidence, ‘Marc will deal with it, whatever it is. He thrives on challenges. Shall I bring dinner here?’ She indicated a table at one end of the informal room that shared the same warm, appealing elegance as the rest of the house.
‘Thank you. Can I help with anything?’
The older woman smiled at her. ‘That’s very thoughtful of you, but I’m too set in my ways to work comfortably with anyone else in the kitchen. Dinner will be in half an hour or so. Afterwards, would you like to watch television? Or a film? Marc gets them flown in.’
‘That sounds great.’
But later, after she’d made herself eat a delicious meal, sat in a fabulous home theatre and watched a taut, well-acted drama that hadn’t yet reached New Zealand, she refused coffee or tea in favour of an early night and walked back to her room feeling stupidly abandoned.
‘Ridiculous!’ she said sternly, closing the door behind her too vigorously. So Marc admitted to wanting her—that didn’t give her licence to develop a humiliating fixation.
His kisses had been dynamite. And her response had been scary. Somehow he’d smashed down all her barriers to reach some hidden, subversive part of her that gloried in the wildness and the heat and the urgent need his touch summoned.
However, although she’d wanted Marc with a desperation that scared the hell out of her, lust wasn’t love, so she had no reason to feel this stupid, useless, embarrassing sense of betrayal. Love meant need and dependence and sacrifice—and eventual rejection—whereas lust, a simple physical itch, was much safer.
In fact, if she were an experienced woman she might even be tempted to have an affair with him.
Getting ready for bed, she toyed recklessly with the idea of yielding to the tormenting desperation that ran like hot honey through her body whenever she remembered those moments in his arms. Perhaps indulging in a wild conflagration of passion would eventually exorcise it, because nothing so intense could last—the human frame wasn’t equipped to deal with prolonged exposure to such hunger.
‘Don’t be an idiot,’ she scoffed, stamping out of the bathroom. ‘Starting your sex life with an arrogant, autocratic, cheating magnate would be a very bad move.’ Yet an unknown emotion tightened painfully around her heart.
Some time during the evening the housekeeper had removed the white bedspread and replaced the bolster with large, continental pillows. Beside the jug of water on a chest were a bowl of fruit and some crackers.
Clearly Marc gave great thought to his guests’ comfort.
Not likely, she thought with an ironic smile. Apart from making sure he employed well-trained staff, he probably took it all completely for granted.
Why had he been so determined to fulfil the conditions of Juliette’s will?
Her lip curled as she marched across the room. The most cynical answer was the right one; he knew he’d hurt Juliette with his unfaithfulness, so this was a sop to a guilty conscience.
And it wasn’t costing him anything—not even time, because he was leaving tomorrow.
Aching with a desolate tiredness, she crawled into bed and switched off the light, waiting impatiently for sleep to shut down the chaos in her mind.
Only to have it play and replay with loving fidelity each delicious, forbidden kiss, every erotic stimulus, from the subtle friction of his shaven jaw to the vivid impact of flame-blue eyes, the experienced, knowledgeable touch of his hand on her breast, the blatant hunger of his hardening body…
Her own body sprang into eager life. Groaning, Paige turned her head into the pillow.
The telephone beside the bed shocked her with a soft, insistent warble. Heart jolting, she bolted upright, groping for the receiver. ‘Hello?’ she muttered.
Marc said, ‘I thought you might like to ring Sherry and reassure her that you got here safely.’
Adrenaline sizzled through Paige like a charge of lightning. ‘I—now?’ But guilt bit deep; she’d meant to ask if she could contact her flatmate, and she’d been so caught up in her own concerns she’d forgotten.
‘It’s not late,’ he said smoothly. ‘I’ll put you through.’
Paige opened her mouth to say something—she never knew what—but the number clicked up automatically and within a couple of seconds Sherry said, ‘Hello?’ into the receiver.
‘It’s Paige here. How’s everything going?’
She relaxed at Sherry’s soft, unforced laugh.
‘Everything’s fine. How are you? What’s your guy’s place like?’
‘He’s not my guy,’ Paige said automatically.
‘He wants to be,’ Sherry teased. ‘Talk about vibes!’
Paige said curtly, ‘We have nothing in common.’
‘You mean he’s rich and you’re not?’<
br />
Amongst other things. They also had completely different standards and values. Paige said lightly, ‘Yep. Now I know how a fish out of water feels!’
‘Rubbish,’ her friend said indignantly. ‘You’d fit in anywhere—you’re pretty and nice and you’re clever. What more could anyone want?’
Paige laughed, but Sherry’s quick support warmed her. ‘Thanks.’
‘Still, be careful, all right?’ Sherry’s voice changed into an almost maternal warning. ‘Men like him aren’t used to having women say no to them.’
Paige stated with such utter conviction she startled herself, ‘You don’t need to worry; he’s not the sort to turn ugly. Besides, the long-term girlfriend is here, and they’re taking off for parts unknown tomorrow.’
‘Oh. Pity,’ Sherry said, clearly not convinced.
‘The house is lovely—old, but beautifully restored and added to, and only a few steps from a fabulous beach with huge old pohutukawa trees along the beachfront. It will be breathtaking in summer—great crimson domes against the sea. And not another house in sight, although there must be a place for the housekeeper.’
‘A housekeeper?’ Now Shelley was impressed.
‘Yes. And the island is covered in native bush, so from the air it looks like a greenstone heart—fairytale stuff! Marc’s helicopter met us at the airport and flew us over.’
‘Cool!’ Sherry didn’t have an envious bone in her body. ‘You enjoy it—every minute of it. Don’t worry about me and Brodie, we’re fine and enjoying our holiday together, so don’t think of coming back until you’re ready. You might as well make the most of whatever good fortune comes your way.’ She paused, then said, ‘And, Paige, I’ve been thinking. If you want to stay—’
‘I don’t. I’ll be back home in a week’s time.’
‘Oh.’ Sherry sounded startled, but she went on swiftly, ‘Well, you might see a chance of a job or something there. You haven’t had much luck in Napier, so if one comes up, take it. Don’t worry about us. As a matter of fact, I think I might be getting a job myself—a proper job. I interviewed for it this afternoon—nice people.’
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