by Kris Pearson
“That fish can’t wait to get caught,” he murmured. “He’d like to be swimming in the dark soft sea of your hair.”
She pushed herself up and knelt astride his thighs. Swept her tumble of waves over his chest... down his torso... and then luxuriantly back and forth across his hips.
Matthew heaved a huge gusty sigh.
Hidden beneath her hair, Kate’s tongue started to tease him. The fish jerked helplessly on her silken line.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
She woke with a start. Something was different.
The bedroom curtains were open—Matthew had never made it as far as the windows to close them the night before. She turned toward the light and gasped. There was nothing outside except soft white snow forever. Any noises were hushed by the muffling blanket. It was like being afloat on a sea of foam.
Her beautiful man was still deep asleep—his broad chest rising and falling with each slow breath. He looked younger, more relaxed. Or maybe a night of great sex had done that for him?
She stretched. Her body felt about three hundred percent alive—thoroughly used, thoroughly pleasured. She’d never been so receptive, so inventive, so entirely wakened to her senses. Her plane ticket to Auckland was booked for four o’clock the next afternoon. She couldn’t wait to tidy up her life there and fly back south to Matthew.
Her mother’s stylish townhouse in Herne Bay was now hers. She’d rent it out until she knew what her longer-term plans might be.
But snow right outside! To a girl from the north, this was a novelty. She slid from the bed and crept to the window to look. White forever. And the view would be even more spectacular from the front of the house. She let herself out of his room, collected her robe and slippers from her own, and went exploring. It was only just light, but every window she peered through brought a vista of untrodden, uninterrupted snow. The mountains and foothills were pristine. The big expanse of tussock garden bulged and dipped under a lumpy white coverlet. The driveway had disappeared.
She leaned close to Matthew’s study window, admiring the jagged mountains, now sifted with even more snow. As she turned away, her gaze landed on a long ribbed cylinder. Inspiration struck. She’d been searching for big flat sketches the day before, but of course they could be rolled and concealed in a tube like this. She reached for it and started to wrestle the end off.
“What do you think you’ll find in there?”
His voice was cold, flat and hard.
She was horribly disconcerted. “I...well, nothing maybe...but...it doesn’t matter now anyway.”
“It matters to me. What are you looking for?”
She put down the cylinder and crossed the room to him. He backed away, avoiding her touch.
“No, it really doesn’t matter now,” she insisted. “I’ve been wondering where you hid those sketches of me. I wanted to find them and get them...out of your ownership.” She dropped her gaze. His eyes were so frigid and accusing she could no longer look at them.
“Those are the house plans, Kate. Nothing to do with you.”
“No. Fine. Sorry.” She stood like a chastened child. Matthew moved deliberately further away. When she glanced up again she saw his mouth had twisted into a savage grimace. All his warmth from the night before had evaporated.
She remained stock-still and shaken. He jerked his head toward the hallway to indicate she was to leave his office. Why was he so upset? It made no sense. She’d told him the truth, and agreed it didn’t matter now whether she found the sketches or not. He’d seen a lot more of her last night than his drawings had revealed! “What the hell’s wrong, Matthew? I only want those sketches. I’ve already asked you twice where they are and you’ve avoided answering.”
“So you thought you’d come and do a sneaky search on your own?”
“I was looking at the snow. It’s amazing.”
“Feeble excuse, Kate. You’re in my office while you thought I was safely asleep. I saw what you were doing.”
His expression and tone of voice, and swift withdrawal of warmth, made it somehow impossible to argue further. Once she’d slunk out, he slammed the office door and stalked off, leaving her to return in confusion to her own bedroom. Why did the house plans matter so much to him? She crawled into her bed. The sheets were cold and unwelcoming against her skin. She retrieved her robe and wrapped it around her for comfort. But there was little comfort to be found.
Matthew controlled his breathing with a will of steel as Kate turned her innocent eyes on him. What an actress. What had she really been looking for? And what was the message she’d sent last night while he’d been out of the way? He strode back to the office as soon as she disappeared to her room, and retrieved the email she’d been so keen to send.
His blood ran cold. There it was—as clear and cruel as it could be.
To Rob Pleasance. Her father. At least she hadn’t lied about that.
Dad—needed to let you know things are not running quite according to plan.
Not now, anyway, Matthew vowed.
I can’t be with you tomorrow because I was asked to say on—too good an opportunity to miss, and the extra time is proving interesting, to say the least.
Yeah. Right. He slowly sat.
You and Terry will hardly know I am missing.
Terry Halstead of Geni-Tel? Or Sir Terrence Quaid, one of the Brits sniffing around the industry? Matthew’s imagination ran riot as he considered possibilities... probabilities... as he computed the known facts and extrapolated them into myriad distasteful scenarios. What the hell was the opposition up to? And how was Kate involved?
There are complications here I hadn’t foreseen, but compensations, too.
Was he the compensation? He didn’t like being described as that. Only minutes after he’d slipped from her body, she’d thought of him just as ‘compensation’? Evil bitch. She’d fooled him absolutely. Had him almost begging on his knees.
Good luck for your big merger announcement.
Now he was truly troubled. He’d heard no talk of a takeover. No whiff of a merger on the rumour mill.
I still think you’re going to stun people.
And he was certainly one of them. He sat welded to his chair, staring at her words, wondering what he’d missed, bitterly regretting his night of incredible passion with the woman who would now have to be somehow wrenched from his heart.
Kate stood under the stinging shower for long, numbing minutes. Matthew had been furious—far more vicious than a couple of sketches warranted. Okay, it had been cheeky of her to look for them, but he hadn’t handed them over when she asked for them earlier. And she’d asked for them more than once.
It seemed she’d now lost any chance of getting them back.
She dried herself and dressed, still wondering about his reaction. Their extreme intimacy had evaporated in a few seconds. She was heartsick and confused. What would the rest of the day bring?
Clad as warmly as possible, she ventured outside. The tearing winds of the night before had piled snow along the southern side of the house. But the north was much more accessible. Now it was eerily fine and calm. The storm had been swift to arrive and swift to depart. She hoped Matthew’s foul mood passed as rapidly.
She looked back at her footprints in the snow and then forward to the smooth blank carpet. There was her life—laid out behind her in safe regular steps, but stretching ahead full of possibilities. An hour ago, she’d been sure he was one of those possibilities.
As of now, no way.
She saw movement through the kitchen window, and deserted the snow. After stomping her boots clean on the bristle mat by the back door, she walked inside. He pointedly left the room.
“Get whatever you want to eat,” he snarled from the hallway. “Lottie will be back about ten-thirty. I’m going across to the vineyard. The office is locked, in case you’re tempted to try again.” He stormed away.
She heard the low throb of the SUV, the shudder of the garage door opening—and soon after,
closing again. And she was alone.
Any other day, she’d have been famished. Yesterday’s dinner had been a couple of slices of toast and pate. (And they’d certainly worked off those calories.) But now she was unable to eat. She picked at a boiled egg. Pushed a muffin around her plate. Sat there brooding until the painting cavalcade arrived with cheerful toots.
Lottie hopped heavily through the shallow snow, clutching at two friends.
“Katie—what a time we have had. The views are fantastic. The light is amazing.” A third friend retrieved the wheelchair from the following vehicle. Together, they got her organised.
“Ya—a good thing we took the chains for the wheels, or we would have been totally stranded,” she added with wide eyes and a dramatic flourish.
From the amused look on the face of one of the friends, Kate surmised it had been far from an emergency.
“Wonderful that you’re home then,” she said. “Shall I make coffee? Tea? What would anyone like?”
But the other painters were keen to get home, and departed as soon as they knew Lottie was in good hands.
“Matthew is here?”
Kate tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “No—he’s gone to the vineyard. To help with the party preparations, I expect.”
“And left you alone?” Surprise and outrage lit her mobile features.
Kate shrugged. “It’s okay. He’s busy.”
Lottie glanced back over her shoulder as Kate pushed her chair into the elevator. “So you and Matthew are getting on well?”
Kate laughed less than humorously. “We were last night, but I think it’s gone up in smoke. He seems to have changed his mind.”
The elevator door slid aside and they entered the studio. “Ach, Katie, surely not?”
“Well, I was searching for those sketches he did of me and he found me looking for them in his office. He hit the roof.”
Lottie nodded slowly. “But you told him it was the sketches?”
“Yes, of course. And he didn’t believe me.” Kate halted the wheelchair and perched on a nearby sofa arm, eyes downcast.
Lottie sighed. “He does not trust easily after... something that happened before. He is a proud man, my brother.”
“He’s a cold man,” Kate snapped.
“I thought you were good for each other. He relaxed with you. I saw him smiling and looking happy again.” She reached across for Kate’s hand. “It’s at least a year since he sat in the studio and worked with me. I saw how he looked when he fed you lunch. How his eyes were warm when he sketched you. There was life in his eyes. More life than I’ve seen for a long time. You make him thaw.”
Kate shook her head. “Now he’s frozen up again,” she muttered.
Lottie released Kate’s hand. “Did you find a pretty dress for the party? That could be all it takes?”
“Beautiful. But I don’t think...” Her voice trailed away. She drew a deep breath. “I don’t think I should go to the party after all. It might only annoy him further.”
“Nonsense Katie. If it was good, can be good again. Pretty dress, nice wine, a little dancing?” Lottie smiled. “We patch him up—you wait and see.”
“What are you wearing tonight?” Kate asked, wanting to change the subject.
Lottie sighed. “My new evening trousers I bought will not go over this ankle plaster. What do you think are the possibilities? Have a look with me and say.”
The proceeded to the bedroom and opened the big wardrobe doors. Together they investigated the extraordinary collection of clothes inside.
“Everything is here. Many years of buying. No years of cleaning out.” Lottie poked a finger at a silver skirt. “Top name. Real haute couture. See the label?”
Kate unhooked the skirt and Lottie grinned as her jaw dropped. “But I don’t wear now. Live a different life, and I’m not so thin.” She pointed to a check shirt. “From the local market. Good for painting. More my style these days.”
Kate held up a brilliant pink silk jacket, edged with orange braid. It was tiny, and her eyes held questions.
“That was before Carlo,” Lottie said. “My lovely son. Dead two years back. He was my darling.”
Kate sent her an anguished glance. “I didn’t know. I saw a photo of a little boy in Matthew’s room last night, but I thought he might be his.”
“No—my boy, my dear boy. A tumour.”
Kate bowed her head. “They look so alike, Matthew and...Carlo?”
“Like my father, both of them,” Lottie agreed. “The same intense eyes.”
Kate turned back to the wardrobe and began to rummage along the racks. Lottie’s grief was raw. It was difficult to find any suitable words of consolation. “I could help you sort some of this out,” she offered. “The older things. The ones that don’t fit any more? We could see what’s best then as party outfits?”
“Good to get it done. Not the sort of thing you expected with this job?”
Kate grimaced at that. “I don’t think the job is a possibility now. Not after the way Matthew reacted when he found me in his office.”
“There’s something I will tell you,” Lottie said. “Matthew was married. Not to a suitable woman. It was a bitter divorce after she stole his business information and asked for money to give it back.”
Kate’s expression softened with understanding, and then resignation took over. “No chance for me then,” she said, turning back to the wardrobe. “Bad luck—I would have loved to work for you.”
By one o’clock, they had five jumbo plastic garbage bags packed up ready for the local charity shop. The ladies there would soon be having a field day.
“So—this long dark green velvet skirt and the gold tabard over the rusty silk blouse?” Kate suggested. “Or the navy patio pants and jacket with this amazing silver mesh top...?”
Lottie considered them both. “Ya—those wide pants would hide my plaster. That blouse is good with my hair. Maybe the blouse, okay?”
“And what are you doing with your hair?”
“Matthew will take me for my three o’clock appointment.”
“We’d better have lunch then,” Kate said.
But Matthew had not returned by two-thirty. Kate listened while Lottie phoned the vineyard. Hamish said he’d left there soon after twelve. Lottie tried his mobile. He’d switched it off. “So you take me, Katie.”
Kate shook her head, horrified at the thought. Not in Matthew’s precious Alpha Romeo! And definitely not on snowy roads. “Let’s call a taxi.”
“No time left,” Lottie said implacably, fishing out a bunch of keys from her bag. “That one,” she added, suspending the others from it.
Getting Lottie into the low car took a bit of doing, but two determined women are rarely beaten.
Kate had no idea how to put chains on a car, or if the Alpha even had any. The snow had now melted in places. The driveway was clearly marked by short posts topped with lanterns. Egged on by Lottie’s enthusiasm, she crept down to the main gates in the tracks Matthew’s SUV had made...into the slushy road below...and with slightly more confidence along the main highway which had been cleared and gritted. They made it to the hairdresser only a few minutes late.
Her nerves were in shreds after driving the capricious and powerful vehicle. It was probably worth more than an up-market house! And Lottie’s exuberant but vague instructions had not made for an easy journey. Kate helped her into the salon and bolted out to guard the car.
Moments later, Matthew drew up beside her. He strode to her window and indicated she should lower it. She fumbled with the unfamiliar controls. He waited, and said from his superior height, “Trying it on for size? Checked all the pockets?”
“Taking Lottie to her hair appointment,” she snapped.
He had the good grace to look slightly chagrined, but didn’t apologise for his absence. “You’ll be back when?”
“No idea. Her appointment was at three.”
“Take it carefully on the way home.”
&
nbsp; “I took it carefully on the way here, seeing that you didn’t turn up. It wasn’t my idea.” She stared straight ahead, willing him to leave.
He must have taken the hint because the SUV roared off a few seconds later, although she never saw him slide away from her window.
The party invitations stipulated drinks at seven, dinner from eight, dancing until dawn—for the youngest guests maybe. Kate wondered how long she could survive the festivities if Matthew remained determined to freeze her out. The prospect of his cold presence was daunting. How far away was the vineyard? About five miles if she remembered Diana’s comments rightly. She’d be trapped there for hours with no means of escape.
His comments after he’d arrived at the hair salon had been far from encouraging. He was still in a foul temper, and all because she’d been looking for something which she considered rightfully hers.
She’d made several forays into the salon to check progress, and finally Lottie’s red-gold hair was swept up and sculpted into a tower of coils and curls. She was obviously taking the party seriously. Kate sighed. At this rate her temporary assistant had better summon up some party spirit too.
The ride home was not quite as bad as the ride in to town, and she escaped to her bedroom with a book once she’d done everything she usefully could. Matthew was still avoiding her—leaving the room if she entered, coldly turning down her offer of coffee.
She feared she’d made a very great fool of herself, falling for him so fast. But how could she have resisted? He was the most charismatic and commanding man she’d ever met. He’d pursued her relentlessly, teased her, bested her at every turn until her brain was as useful as custard...her body a-quiver like jelly.
Then he’d devoured her like the big bad wolf he apparently was, and now he was spitting out the bones.
Kate had not expected cruelty like this. Although he’d made his interest obvious, he’d proceeded only at the pace she’d allowed. He’d not pressed her until she’d joined him in the electrifying game at the boutique. She’d presumed him a gentleman who’d play by most of the rules. His sudden desertion and stinging indifference shocked and confused her.
