by Miranda Lee
‘Now I’ll have to go and mingle, my darlings,’ Rosalind said, encompassing both of them with her words, and her smile. ‘Why don’t you do the same? There are lots of interesting people here.’
‘Where’s Lara?’ Byron asked before his mother could escape. ‘And Jasper?’
‘Gone to one of her girlfriends’ for the night. She said having to make chit-chat with my crowd would be sheer torture. And where Lara goes, Jasper is sure to follow. Now go get your lovely girl a glass of champagne. I bought the best.’
‘Of course you did,’ Byron muttered when his mother was out of earshot.
‘What’s with the sarcasm?’ Cleo said straight away. ‘I like your mother. She’s sweet.’
‘And she liked you. The reason she was so nice is that she’s already planning our wedding in her head.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Cleo exclaimed, shocked.
‘She’s very keen to see me married.’
‘But not to me, surely!’
Byron frowned. ‘Why not you?’
‘I’m not your usual style of girlfriend. Even she saw that.’
‘Maybe you’re better.’
She hated that she flushed under his compliment. And for a split second imagined actually becoming Mrs Byron Maddox. She’d vowed at Martin’s funeral never to put her life in a man’s hands again, and she meant to keep that vow. Not that Byron would ever propose to someone like her, anyway.
‘Let’s not get carried away here, Byron,’ she stated firmly. ‘I only came with you tonight because you wanted protection from your mother’s matchmaking agenda. And I only agreed to Grace making me over because it was time I did something about my appearance. For myself, not for you. Or for your mother. So please, don’t let her think there’s anything serious between us because that wouldn’t be fair. To her or to me. Yes, I want to go to bed with you. Trust me when I say that’s a rather shocking admission for me to make. But it begins and ends there.’
* * *
Byron could not believe how angry her speech made him. Why, he wasn’t sure, because she was only telling him the truth, as she saw it.
His truth, however, was different. Each minute he spent with her made him want more. And he wasn’t just referring to sex. Yes, he wanted to take her to bed. But he also wanted more than just a fling, or an affair, or whatever it was she seemed hell-bent on calling it. Maybe she didn’t even want that much. It sure sounded like it.
‘Are you saying you just want a one-night stand with me?’ he demanded to know. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’ He tried to contain his fury but it was impossible. Hot blood was bubbling along his veins and his hands were curled into fists at his side.
‘No,’ she replied hesitantly, her staring eyes blinking several times before adopting a rather cool expression. ‘No, I don’t think one night will be enough.’
Byron sucked in sharply, his body hardening, his heart squeezing tight at her unexpected but seriously exciting admission.
‘It certainly won’t be enough for me,’ he growled, his eyes locking with hers until her mask of composure began to crumble.
He would have left his mother’s party right then and there if they hadn’t been collared by a couple of guests looking for fresh conversation. They were Rosalind’s rather elderly next-door neighbours so Byron felt obliged to stay a while, so as not to be horribly rude. He introduced Cleo, who soon went quiet by his side, leaving it up to him to play the charming companion and witty conversationalist. Which, quite frankly, was not what he wanted to do, despite his being used to such a role. He was anxious to play a different role now, his mind already projecting ahead to that moment when he had Cleo naked in his bed and where he would seduce her utterly until she said yes to whatever he wanted. There would be no physical demand she would refuse. No emotional demand, either. If he wanted her to become his girlfriend for real, she would say yes. If he wanted her to become his secret mistress, she would say yes to that too. He would not countenance her spurning him, or deciding when enough was enough. He was going to decide that, damn it.
Never before had Byron experienced such ruthless urges in his pursuit of a woman. But then, he’d been rather ruthless from the start, hadn’t he, doing things he didn’t really want to do, just to be with her? And it was all her fault! Or her husband’s fault, the one who’d fallen ill way too young then died on her, leaving her with a broken heart and an inability to fall in love again. She probably thought she was betraying the man she still loved by even wanting to be with another man. That was why she was trying to restrict herself to sex only, and only for a couple of nights.
But that was not how it was going to be. That was not what Byron wanted.
And, of course, what you want is all that matters, isn’t it? Never mind her feelings. You just go for what you want and to hell with her broken heart!
Byron shut his eyes for a moment, at the same time telling that infernal voice to go jump.
‘I heard your father is selling his house here in Sydney,’ the neighbour said.
Byron tried to focus. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ he agreed.
‘Well, the market is right for selling property,’ the man went on. ‘But not so good for mining, little lady,’ he directed at Cleo.
Byron whisked two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and pressed one into Cleo’s hands. ‘Sorry, folks,’ he said to the neighbours, ‘but I need to speak to my mother about something. Great to see you again.’ And he steered Cleo in the direction of his mother, who was out by the pool, chatting away to a male politician he despised and a female reality show host who had possibly been invited as one of the candidates for the role of his next fiancée. She beamed when she saw him approaching, her smile as over the top as the rest of her. Byron immediately did an about-face and shepherded Cleo into the kitchen where Gloria was helping the caterers.
‘Hi there, Byron,’ Gloria said warmly. ‘So who have we got here?’ she added, looking Cleo up and down.
Byron introduced Cleo before quietly telling Gloria that he wanted to escape.
‘Mum won’t notice I’ve gone for a while,’ he said whilst downing some of the tasty-looking finger food sitting on the breakfast bar. ‘Could you tell her when she finally notices my absence that Cleo felt a migraine coming on and I took her home? Say I didn’t say goodbye personally because I was afraid I might get eaten by the cougar she was talking to at the time.’
Gloria laughed. ‘There’s a few of those in there.’
Byron smiled and put his arm around Cleo’s shoulders. ‘Want something to eat before we go, darling?’
She shook her head from side to side, her eyes wide, her shoulders trembling a little.
Her nerves moved him and pricked at his conscience. But not enough to change his mind.
‘Okay, then finish up that champagne and we’ll be off.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE called me darling,’ Cleo said shakily as Byron backed out of the garage. ‘Gloria will tell your mother and she’ll jump to all the wrong conclusions.’
His sideways glance carried a hint of irritation. ‘Does it really matter? We won’t be coming back here any time soon.’
‘Your mother might ring you and ask awkward questions.’
‘Probably. But I can handle my mother, Cleo. It’s you I’m finding hard to handle,’ he ground out. ‘Will you please just stop with the endless complications? I get that you don’t want a real relationship with me. I get that you’re way out of your comfort zone even agreeing to go to bed with me. But you have a right to a sex life, as do I. We’re adults, Cleo. We don’t have to answer to other people for what we do behind closed doors.’
Cleo winced at the exasperation in his voice. Or was it frustration she was hearing?
She herself was almost crippled with frustration. Plus a huge lump of fear. When Byron had swept her out of his mother’s house, anxiety had set in her stomach like concrete before rising to lodge in her throat, making her voice raspy and her he
art in danger of stopping. The rest of her body, however, had gone into overdrive, every nerve ending buzzing and burning with a need that was almost beyond belief.
Out of her comfort zone? More like out of this world!
‘I... I’m sorry,’ she choked out, though not at all sure what she was sorry for. Surely she had a right to make her feelings clear. She didn’t like it when Byron rode roughshod over them.
Byron heaved a huge sigh. ‘I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t be snapping and snarling at you like this. It’s not necessary. Or nice. I guess I’m somewhat frustrated. I haven’t had sex since I broke up with Simone and I’m not at my best with celibacy.’
Did it please her that he hadn’t had sex for over six weeks? His admission certainly surprised her.
The honesty of his statement actually pleased Cleo more than the content. Was she supposed to be impressed that he’d gone without sex for such a long time? she thought somewhat tartly.
Poor thing.
‘I haven’t had sex in over five years,’ she told him bluntly before she could think better of it. ‘Not since Martin was diagnosed with cancer.’ Actually, she’d stopped having sex with him before that, having decided at long last to leave him. ‘After he started on the chemo he wasn’t interested.’
‘I see,’ Byron said in a rather cryptic tone before falling silent.
On Cleo’s part, she couldn’t think of anything to say, a perverse embarrassment joining her nervous tension, which actually heightened her desires.
‘In that case,’ he said after a minute or two, ‘I don’t think even two nights will be enough. I would suggest you put aside every night for the next week to spend with me. And possibly lunchtimes as well,’ he added, slanting her a bad-boy smile.
‘You wish,’ she said, but she was smiling as well. How could she not? Byron could charm the pants off any woman.
‘Only if you wish, my darling. I am at your disposal for as long as you want me.’
‘You have to stop calling me darling.’ It did terrible things to her. Silly, weakening things.
‘Why?’
‘You know why.’
‘You’re being difficult again. I can see you need a man with a firm hand.’
Cleo had to laugh. That was the last thing she needed. Or wanted.
Byron frowned. ‘What did that laugh mean? It had a strange edge to it.’
‘I’m a strange woman.’
‘An enigmatic one, at least. Why haven’t you had sex since your husband died? I mean, it’s been three years, Cleo. Long enough for you to move on.’
Cleo wished she could tell him the total truth, but simply couldn’t bring herself to be that disloyal to Martin. He hadn’t been a bad man, just programmed badly by his father. Not that that was any excuse, really.
‘Would you believe me if I said I haven’t met a man—until you—who I wanted to have sex with?’
‘As flattering as that idea is, no, I don’t believe it.’
‘It’s true.’
‘Really and truly?’
‘Yes.’
‘Wow.’
* * *
Byron wished he could believe her but he didn’t. Not totally. There was some other reason, and he suspected it wasn’t because she was still holding a torch for her dead husband. What kind of man wouldn’t want the comfort of his wife’s body when he was ill, or even dying? Surely that would be when he wanted it the most.
Maybe he was just ignorant of what chemo did to one’s body, or insensitive to the man’s feelings at the time, but he didn’t buy her reason. Byron had had an inkling for some time that Cleo’s marriage hadn’t been perfectly happy; that her decision not to marry again came from bad memories, not good ones. A woman who’d been happy in marriage would surely have wanted to experience that happiness again. His father had been happy in his own first marriage for many years, which was why he’d wanted to try again. Byron himself wanted to marry because he believed marriage and a family would complete him. Making money was all very well, but it couldn’t match the satisfaction and joy from a loving and committed relationship. And from children of your own.
If only, he thought as he glanced over at Cleo...
Don’t start going there, Byron. She’s not for you.
‘I presume you’re not on the pill, then,’ he said as he sped towards the city through blessedly light traffic.
‘No.’
‘No sweat. I always use protection anyway. Men like me don’t take chances.’
‘What do you mean?’
She sounded genuinely perplexed, which was another reason why he liked her so much. Despite her demanding and challenging job, Cleo wasn’t worldly. In some ways, she was an innocent. He wouldn’t mind betting she’d been a virgin on her wedding night. Or at least until she was engaged.
‘Rich men are targets for gold-diggers,’ he told her bluntly. ‘A pregnancy is the best way to trap a rich man into marriage. Or at least get a regular income for life. Even when I was engaged I continued to use condoms.’
‘That’s a sad way to have to live,’ Cleo said quietly.
Byron shrugged. ‘No point in being naive.’
‘I suppose not...’
‘I’ve been engaged twice, actually,’ he admitted.
‘I know. I looked you up on the Internet before I met you that first day.’
He laughed. ‘I looked up McAllister. But you weren’t mentioned.’
‘I wouldn’t have been,’ she said before turning her head to gaze out of the passenger window. After a while, she turned back to face him. ‘There’s something else I feel I should tell you, Byron,’ she went on with a hint of worry in her voice.
‘What?’
‘I had a security check done on you before we went to Townsville together. I hope you’re not offended.’
‘Not at all. I wouldn’t expect anything less of a smart PA. Did you find out anything worth knowing?’
‘Not much more than I already knew. You were captain of your school. And very good at sport. And you dated lots of stunningly beautiful girls whilst you worked for your father in America.’
‘True. I’ve been known to be shallow where the opposite sex is concerned. Not to mention stupid. I’m sure Grace told you as much on Friday.’
‘Grace never said a single derogatory word about you.’
‘That’s good to know. Look, it’s great having a chat. Normally, it passes the time pleasantly during a drive, but to be honest I don’t want to talk right now. I want to concentrate on getting you home to my place as fast as possible. Frankly, I’m finding it hard to think of anything but how I’m the first man you’ve wanted to have sex with for five flaming years. If anything is designed to make me a blithering idiot, it’s that thought, believe me, so, if you don’t mind, could you please shut that gorgeous mouth of yours till I have a much better use for it?’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CLEO’S LIPS PRESSED firmly shut whilst her mind filled with the various uses Byron might have for her mouth. There was kissing, of course, but she suspected he meant something else, that other oral activity that she’d never fancied before yet which suddenly seemed, oh, so exciting.
Her face flamed as she imagined how it would feel to do that to him. And more. She longed to run her lips over every inch of his magnificent male body, to learn what pleased him most, to make him stiffen with desire. For her, not those other women he’d dated or been engaged to. For ordinary old Cleo, who’d rarely made a man’s head turn in her life.
But she was not ordinary old Cleo tonight. She was beautiful and sexy and ready to be everything any man could want, even one as experienced as Byron. She would be bold and adventurous and imaginative. She would be wildly passionate and without inhibition. She would be wicked.
Suddenly, Cleo couldn’t get enough breath into her body. Her chest tightened as her heart slammed against her ribs and her nostrils flared. She had to open her mouth and suck in some life-giving air. Had to!
‘You all right
?’ Byron immediately asked her, his head swivelling around.
‘I’m not allowed to talk,’ she threw back at him through panting lips.
‘We’re almost there,’ he growled.
Cleo blinked as her dazed eyes cleared to take in her surrounds. She hadn’t noticed them crossing the bridge or entering the city streets. She’d been off in that darkly erotic world that he’d created with his earlier words, weaving fantasies in her head that demanded all of her concentration to create. Because she wasn’t working on memory. Just imagination.
Within minutes they were parked in a subterranean car park and Byron was bundling her out of the passenger seat and into his arms.
‘I can’t wait,’ he ground out, and his mouth crashed down on hers.
But as quickly as his lips had descended, they shot upwards, Byron’s handsome face twisting with total frustration.
‘Damn and blast,’ he swore. ‘I can’t do it here. I can’t do that to you. Not after five years. Come on.’ And grabbing her empty hands—her purse was still in the car—he pulled her in the direction of the lift well, which had a sign saying private above it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
‘I... I THINK I’m having a panic attack,’ Cleo choked out as the lift zoomed up to the top floor. Her heart was going like the clappers and she was finding it difficult to breathe.
‘Poor darling,’ Byron said, and pulled her close. ‘But I doubt it’s a genuine panic attack. You’re just overexcited. I’m somewhat excited myself.’
Cleo groaned, then turned to press her flushed face into his chest. ‘You are going to be so disappointed in me,’ she said, her voice muffled.
As the lift purred to a halt Byron eased her away from his chest and cupped her heated cheeks with his own rather warm hands. ‘Now don’t be silly,’ he said firmly. ‘Disappointment is going to be the last emotion I feel when I make love to you.’
Cleo sighed, thrilled that he’d said make love rather than have sex. Her crisis of confidence, however, hadn’t entirely abated. So much for her resolve to be bold, and imaginative, and adventurous. Byron was right. She was a silly woman. Very silly.
