Having handed her into the car, Lang got in beside her and went on, ‘We’ve plenty of time for a sightseeing drive, and then a celebratory meal of our own, if that suits you?’
About to tell him she had nothing to celebrate, Cassandra paused. She’d agreed to the marriage—rather than chance calling his bluff—so for everyone’s sake she would have to try and make the best of it. There was no point in making a bad situation worse by being openly morose or miserable.
Determinedly shrugging aside all her woes, she agreed, ‘That sounds fine.’
‘In spite of all the development going on around Las Vegas, there’s still some wonderful country close at hand… Or if you prefer, rather than a drive, we can go to a town where there are shops, and things going on?’
‘I’d much prefer to take a drive.’ She chose without hesitation.
Remembering her enthusiasm for the journey to Nevada, he asked, ‘You really like desert country?’
She gave him a sudden impish grin. ‘Despite what I said earlier, I can only describe it as love at first sight…’
This woman never failed to surprise him, Lang thought. Not only did she have warmth and courage, and a sense of fun, but the things she seemed to enjoy didn’t fit in with the kind of nature he’d expected.
‘Until now I’ve only ever seen this kind of terrain in Westerns,’ she went on, ‘and I’d like to see more of the real thing.’
‘Well, ma’am.’ With a slight grin, he flicked an imaginary stetson, moved his chaw tobacco from one cheek to the other, and drawled, ‘You’ve sure come to the right place…’
Taken by surprise, Cassandra burst out laughing. She hadn’t expected him to have a sense of humour.
‘If you can think of anywhere in pertic’ler you’d like to eat, we’ll mosey along in that direction…’
Following his lead, she fluttered her lashes at him. ‘Why, Marshal Dalton, you don’t mean I get to choose?’
Appreciating her mood swing, he answered laconically, ‘Sure do, ma’am.’
Suddenly she saw the ideal way to disconcert him, to pay him back for the times he’d deliberately made her blush.
Hugging herself, she said with a look of wide-eyed innocence, ‘Well, I’ve always wanted to eat at a real, all-American…burger bar.’
‘You don’t mean it?’ He sounded half amused, half aghast.
‘I sure do.’
Wondering how far his sense of humour would stretch, she held her breath and waited for the explosion.
But all he said was, ‘If that’s so we’ll get started on the drive.’ Removing his jacket, he tossed it on to the back seat, and added calmly, ‘In the meantime let me know if you change your mind.’
Well aware he’d been anticipating haute cuisine and champagne, she had confidently expected a downright refusal, or at the very least a strong and immediate attempt to dissuade her. But it seemed he was prepared to play a waiting game.
The extreme heat of the day was over and the temperature was pleasantly hot without being overpowering. Enough of a breeze still lingered to cool her cheeks and lift her hair.
Steadfastly closing her mind to everything but the immediate present, Cassandra found herself thoroughly enjoying the drive through spectacular country.
Something primitive and vital in her responded to the wide expanse of burning blue sky, the sudden outcrops of reddish rock, the fascinating flora and fauna, and the harsh, sun-bleached beauty of the desert terrain.
From time to time Lang stopped to point out some interesting cacti or bird, and the occasional lizard sunning itself on one of the smooth boulders.
Penny, who shared her passion for old Westerns, would have adored all this…
Cassandra hadn’t realized she’d spoken the thought aloud until he queried, ‘Who’s Penny?’
‘Penny Lane, the girl I share a flat with. You must have heard—?’
He gave her a sidelong grin. ‘Yes, I have heard the old Beatles number… Have you known her for long?’ he added casually.
‘For years. She was my room-mate at college.’
‘The whole time?’
‘Yes. We took most of our classes together. During our final year we decided to move out of the student accommodation and get a flat together.’
Memory gave Cassandra a nudge, and a shade unevenly she added, ‘Penny’s the other girl in the snapshot…’
Perhaps to cover an awkward pause, Lang asked, ‘What does she do now?’
‘She works for you, as a matter of fact. She’s just joined the research department… Though she got her job fair and square.’
When he made no comment, Cassandra went on, ‘Penny’s a good friend: loyal, kind-hearted, totally honest, down-to-earth in many ways, but at the same time wildly romantic…
‘She was expecting to be my bridesmaid. She chose a lovely silk dress, all ruched and decorated with rosebuds…’ Cassandra’s voice cracked. ‘I’ll have to tell her it won’t be needed now.’
As she finished speaking, Lang brought the car to a halt to allow a rattlesnake to cross the road and slither into the safety of a pile of tumbled rocks.
By this time the sun had dipped towards the western horizon, and the black shadows cast by tree-like cacti had lengthened dramatically.
When the sky became flushed with pink and gold, and the first star appeared, they turned towards civilization and the bright lights.
Cassandra was waiting for him to either reopen the question of where they should eat, or simply choose what he considered a more suitable place, when he drew into a burger bar’s car park and said, ‘Well, here we are. Hungry?’
‘Ravenous,’ she admitted.
He set the electronic code which locked the steering wheel, and picked up his jacket. ‘Then let’s go, shall we?’
Still unsure whether or not he was joking, she allowed herself to be escorted inside. They found a table for two, and he hung his jacket over the back of a chair.
It was bright and clean and busy, filled mainly with young families and teenagers, most of whom sported way-out clothing and hairstyles. A lot of the men favoured either pony-tails or shaved heads.
In smart trousers, a silk shirt and tie, and with a conventional haircut, Lang stood out from the crowd, but he showed no sign of feeling out of place.
With unruffled good humour, and an aplomb she was forced to envy, he joined one of several lengthy queues to order at the counter.
Watching him apparently sharing a joke with a tattooed youth in the neighbouring queue who, judging by the number of rings through his lips, nose and eyebrows, was heavily into body-piercing, she marvelled.
The queues were moving fast, and it wasn’t long before Lang was back with a crowded tray.
‘No expense spared,’ he said cheerfully, unloading various boxes and cartons. ‘Two chicken nuggets with dips, two double cheeseburgers, two large fries, and two coffees. Tuck in.’
Hoist with her own petard, she opened the nearest carton and began. A second later he followed suit, using his fingers and eating with apparent enjoyment.
‘A somewhat unusual wedding feast,’ he remarked gravely when they’d finished. ‘Still, it makes a nice change… And no one could say the atmosphere isn’t friendly…’
Only the gleam in his eye told her he’d been quite aware of her motive for suggesting the place, and was enjoying having the last laugh.
‘Now, would you like an ice cream, or more coffee?’
She shook her head.
‘Then let’s go.’
Expertly gathering up the debris, he tipped it all neatly into one of the waiting bins and put the tray on top of the stack.
As they made their way back to the car she had to admit that Lang had won fair and square. He’d seemed perfectly at home in what, for him, she had thought of as an alien environment.
But, recalling their stop at Minnie’s Diner the previous night, she knew she had been completely wrong. Though a wealthy man, he was no snob.
Forced i
nto the same situation, Alan would have been horrified. Somewhat narrow and conventional, always very aware of his image, he would have looked and acted like a fish out of water in either place.
Seeing the faint smile that touched her lips, her new husband queried, ‘Would you like to share the joke?’
Knowing it would sound disloyal to Alan, she shook her head.
Lang didn’t press her, and they got into the car and drove back to the Golden Phoenix in silence.
As they crossed the foyer on their way to his private elevator, Lang left her for a moment to have a quick word with the man on the desk.
It was still relatively early, and she noticed a number of well-dressed guests making their way into a luxuriously carpeted dining-room lit by several crystal chandeliers.
The contrast between that and their own dining experience could hardly have been wider.
Catching her eye, Lang grinned, and she knew he’d been thinking much the same.
When they reached their suite he swept her up into his arms and carried her over the threshold. Smiling into her surprised face, he kissed her lightly before setting her on her feet again.
A little breathlessly, she said, ‘I didn’t realize you were such a traditionalist.’
‘It seemed fitting.’
When she looked at him blankly, she saw a gleam in his eye. He said, ‘I understand the custom relates to when the Romans carried the Sabine women, reluctant brides indeed, into their homes,’ and watched the colour creep into her cheeks.
A supper trolley was waiting, spread with a selection of cold delicacies and a pot of coffee keeping hot. In the centre, alongside a bottle of vintage champagne, was a wedding cake with a diminutive bride and groom holding hands beneath an icing-sugar arch.
A large congratulations card, signed by all the staff, had been propped against the ice bucket, and next to it was a personal card from Rob, wishing them every future happiness.
Discarding his jacket, Lang came over and slipped the stole from Cassandra’s shoulders. ‘Champagne or coffee?’
‘Coffee, thank you,’ she said with careful politeness. ‘But first I’d like to freshen up.’
Nerves starting to tighten, she needed a moment to herself. While they were out and about, she had been able to keep the thought of the coming night at bay. Now they were back, it was a different matter.
Going through to her bathroom to wash her face and hands and brush her tangled hair, she discovered that all her belongings had vanished. Presumably moved into Lang’s room.
Though the youth behind the desk hadn’t appeared to notice, the news that she’d walked out carrying a bouquet must have spread like wildfire.
Yet even as the thought crossed her mind Cassandra felt certain there was more to it than that. She was all at once convinced that Rob, at least, had known in advance that they were to be married. It explained both the things he’d said to her and his manner. In fact he’d known before she did.
But, in retrospect, she could see that right from the start Lang had been at some pains to give Rob the impression that they were lovers. The fact that she’d been wearing an engagement ring—which he must have presumed was Lang’s—could only have added to the image.
It had been a risk, of course; at any minute she might have mentioned Alan. But in the event it had worked beautifully. The wedding had taken place and no one had been unduly surprised.
Up till now. It might be a different matter when Alan arrived…
When she got back to the other room, Lang was just emerging from his own bedroom, looking fresh and virile, his thick blond hair neatly brushed.
Closing her mind to his appeal, she remarked abruptly, ‘You said Alan would be late…’ Even to her own ears her voice sounded strained. ‘How late?’
Then she said with a rising resentment, ‘You must know. You planned the whole thing every step of the way.’
Looking completely unruffled, Lang answered, ‘He’s due to attend a top management dinner at Seguro House before they start back, so he shouldn’t be arriving just yet… Why don’t you sit down and relax while I get that coffee?’
Feeling unable to do either at that minute, she remained standing, while he poured the steaming liquid into two cups and handed her one.
As they sipped, she made a determined effort to stay calm. Letting herself get het up would serve no useful purpose. It would only make matters worse.
But try as she might she was unable to prevent her mind jumping ahead to the inevitable scene with Alan.
How on earth could she tell him that in the short time he’d been away she had married Lang Dalton?
And how badly would he take it?
She felt a momentary panic. What if Alan’s feelings ran a great deal deeper than either of them had suspected? In the ordinary run of things he wasn’t a man to indulge in grand gestures, but, faced with a situation like this, suppose he was hurt and angry enough to sacrifice his career and walk out?
Lang had seemed so sure that he would accept the promotion offered, and she had gone along with it… But what if they were both wrong?
No, surely he wouldn’t throw everything away, neither for the sake of his pride nor for her. She knew in her heart of hearts that he had never viewed their engagement with half the eagerness and excitement with which he had viewed his career.
If they had married, their relationship, she felt sure, would have been placid rather than passionate. Alan looked on passion in much the same way as he looked on strong emotion of any kind, as something best avoided…
And knowing where passion could lead, afraid and wary, she had been only too pleased… Until last night…
‘More coffee?’ Lang’s voice broke into her thoughts.
Shaking her head, she said jerkily, ‘I keep wondering what will happen… I mean, when Alan knows. What will he do? Where will he go? He’ll have to spend the night somewhere and you can hardly expect him to…’ She tailed off helplessly.
‘To stay under the same roof?’ Lang finished for her. ‘No, I’d already thought of that. So I’ve arranged to have a car standing by to take him straight back to the airport, where the company jet will be waiting for him.’
‘And I suppose that’s purely for his sake?’ she demanded with some bitterness.
‘No, it’s for all our sakes,’ Lang admitted calmly. ‘I thought, as tonight’s our wedding night, you might find it inhibiting to have him too close.’
Watching the colour rise in her cheeks, he went on, ‘And when he knows the score I imagine he’ll be only too eager to leave for San Francisco as soon as possible. That way he’ll be able to return to England on tomorrow’s scheduled flight, as planned.
‘If he accepts the promotion, which I don’t doubt he will…’ there it was again, that arrogant certainty ‘…all the necessary arrangements have been made, so he can take up his new post in Switzerland as soon as he has a mind to.’
He made it appear very cut-and-dried and simple. But could human emotions really be dealt with in such a ruthlessly businesslike manner?
‘Lang…when he does come…I’d like to break it to him as gently as possible.’
Sounding a shade more human, Lang admitted, ‘It’s bound to come as a shock, however it’s done. He won’t like the idea of losing out to another man. But it’s something he’ll have to come to terms with, and I don’t see any point in beating about the bush.’
‘No, but I can’t bear the thought of—’
‘Believe me,’ Lang broke in crisply, ‘it isn’t my intention to cause either you or Brent any unnecessary pain. Just the opposite, in fact.’
Though far from satisfied with that assurance, she felt forced to let the matter drop.
Seeing how tense she was, Lang relieved her of the empty coffee cup, and chided softly, ‘Take it easy; you look fraught.’
Moving behind her, he brushed aside her cloud of silky hair, and began to massage the taut muscles in her neck and shoulders. His hands were strong and well-sh
aped, with a touch that was both assured and delicate. Exciting hands…
Banishing the treacherous thought, she willed herself to relax, while his thumbs stroked and probed. After a minute or so some of the tension eased, and the dull ache at the back of her skull ceased.
Lightly holding her upper arms, he bent his head until his lips were brushing her ear, and queried, ‘Better?’
‘Yes, much better, thank you,’ she answered huskily. Then, feeling the smoothness of his jaw, she said, ‘You’ve shaved.’
‘Mmm…’ He rubbed his cheek against hers. ‘Bristles can be ruinous to a complexion like yours.’
His lips traced the whorls of her ear, and lingered on the warmth of her nape, making little shivers run through her.
As she stood in a kind of sensuous daze, he drew her back against his lean, muscular length and his hands moved to cover her breasts in a gentle, open-palmed caress, while his mouth travelled up the side of her neck to find the sensitive skin beneath her jaw.
Feeling her breathing and heart rate quicken perceptibly, he rubbed his thumbs lightly across her nipples and smiled when they firmed at his touch.
One hand continued the erotic stimulation while the other slid up her throat to tilt her head back against his shoulder. Her lips were soft and slightly parted, innocent as a child’s.
His first kiss was light, almost chaste, touching and lingering, savouring the velvety softness. Then, with a sudden impatience, he turned her into his arms and, holding her face between his palms, lifted it to his.
A series of kisses, each less chaste than the last, made every nerve in her body leap into life and fire race through her.
At the mercy of feelings that were comparatively new and distinctly earth-shattering, she felt a sudden wild delight, a clutch of arousal that tightened the muscles of her abdomen into a knot and formed a core of liquid heat.
He knew, and between kisses he whispered deeply, ‘Your body is so eager and vital, so responsive. Making love to you is like making love to a flame.’
While he continued to kiss her with passion and skill, lost to everything but the sensations he was so effortlessly arousing, she was scarcely aware that his deft fingers were unfastening the halter neck of her dress and sliding down the zip.
The Marriage Takeover Page 10
