No Longer A Dream. Carole Mortimer

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amuses me.’ He still smiled. ‘And I'll have you know that these teeth are all my own, and they're the genuine uncapped variety!'

      She stared at him in fascination, amazed at the difference his smile made. He looked almost handsome! And years younger, not quite so much as if every minute of his thirty-nine years had been spent amassing the power and money that made him the dangerous man he was.

      ‘Cat?'

      She suddenly realised he was no longer smiling, but eyeing her watchfully as she openly stared at him. ‘I can see that now,’ she rushed into speech. ‘One of the front ones is a little crooked.'

      He nodded. ‘If you were a guest at my son's party last night why didn't you know it was his nineteenth birthday?’ he asked icily.

      This man would have been lethal as a courtroom lawyer, would have held the judge and jury mesmerised by the way he never missed even the slightest irregularity!

      ‘He didn't tell me,’ she answered truthfully.

      ‘If you're a friend—–'

      ‘I told you, I'm only an acquaintance.’ She bit her lip. ‘I—I went to the party last night because I wanted to meet you,’ she revealed, knowing honesty had to prevail now.

      His eyes glazed over, his nostrils flaring, his mouth a thin angry line. ‘So it was all an act,’ he said disgustedly. ‘The surprise, the dismay, the shock,’ he added impatiently. ‘When I didn't show at the party you decided to wait for me, in my bed!’ He began to pace the room, shaking his head as he looked at her. ‘You ought to get an Oscar for the act you just put on in the bathroom,’ he grated. ‘I actually did feel a first-class heel for lying to you!'

      ‘Because you are!’ Her eyes flashed. ‘It was cruel to make me believe we had—we had been lovers. Everything I told you was the truth, my drinks were doctored, and I have no idea how I came to be in your bed—–'

      ‘For God's sake don't start crying again!’ he rasped as the tears began to fall. ‘We'll get to the bottom of this once and for all,’ he bit out, picking up the receiver to dial. ‘Luke?’ he barked in the mouthpiece. ‘Get in here,’ he ordered as coldly as he had earlier told his son to leave. ‘And make sure your story is a good one!’ he advised threateningly before slamming down the receiver to once again pace the room.

      For all the notice he took of Cat as they waited for the arrival of his son she might as well not have been here.

      ‘Do you always talk to him that way?’ she finally asked curiously.

      His head snapped back, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets again. ‘What way?'

      She shrugged. ‘Like one of the hired help,’ she frowned.

      His mouth twisted. ‘If I spoke to Norm in that way he would leave.'

      ‘Your son doesn't have the same prerogative,’ she drawled.

      ‘But he does,’ Caleb Steele corrected in a hard voice. ‘He's his own man.'

      Man sounded a little hopeful for the immature boy she had witnessed at the party last night, his youth obvious in the way he drank too much, laughed too loud, and was too familiar with a woman five years his senior. She doubted Caleb Steele had ever been that young, had been married and on his way to becoming a father at the same age.

      ‘Let me put that another way,’ he drawled, seeming to guess her thoughts. ‘Luke is independently wealthy from money given to him by his mother, and at nineteen he's over the age of consent.’ He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘If he doesn't like the way I talk to him he's free to set up on his own.'

      The underlying friction of the father towards his son was unmistakable. But considering the amount of newsworthy trouble Luke Steele had been in over the last couple of years perhaps that was understandable. She had found the younger man to be totally brash and rude. And, secretly, she couldn't forgive his witnessing those moments of intimacy she had shared with his father earlier!

      ‘Don't look so worried, little cat,’ Caleb murmured throatily. ‘We won't come to blows over you.'

      If they did she had no doubt who would be the victor. And she had a feeling Caleb Steele didn't either, despite the fact that he was twice his son's age. She also knew he didn't give a damn how she felt, that he once again believed the worst of her.

      ‘Do you get a lot of women throwing themselves at you?’ she frowned.

      Black eyes narrowed to steely slits. ‘I've never actually had a woman I don't know waiting for me in my own bed before,’ he bit out.

      ‘I—–'

      ‘Come in, Luke,’ he called out to his son as a knock sounded on the door.

      Physically father and son were very alike, although Luke's eyes were a deep blue. They both possessed that rugged attraction rather than handsomeness, but maturity had given Caleb that cynical light in his eyes where Luke displayed only recklessness. And in contrast to Caleb's tailored shirt and trousers Luke looked the height of casualness in faded denims and a loose sweater. The bravado in his stance was directed at both his father and Cat.

      He nodded in recognition of her, his insolence barely contained. ‘Miss Howard,’ he drawled. ‘So nice of you to have stayed the night.’ In contrast to his father's American drawl his English accent sounded very precise—and insulting.

      Cat knew that after the break-up of his father's marriage the boy had gone to live with his grandfather before being sent to school in England. The fact that the two even spoke with a different accent made them even less like father and son.

      ‘Did I have any choice?’ she returned tartly.

      He gave a careless shrug. ‘You didn't look as if you wanted one earlier.'

      Colour heightened her cheeks. ‘You—–'

      ‘Luke, what the hell is going on?’ His father's voice cracked between them like a whip. ‘Do you know anything about Cat being in my bed?'

      Luke shrugged again. ‘Only what I saw this morning—–'

      ‘You know a lot more than—–'

      ‘Cat, I'm trying to find out what happened,’ Caleb cut in coldly.

      ‘Well you won't do that from your son,’ she snapped, glaring at the younger man.

      ‘Luke will tell me the truth.’ His voice brooked no argument—or deception.

      ‘I wish I had your faith,’ she muttered. ‘So far, in our very short acquaintance, your son has shown himself to be anything but truthful!’ she challenged.

      Luke Steele didn't even blink an eyelid. ‘I would doubt you have been completely honest with my father either,’ he sounded confident. ‘Otherwise there would be no need for this conversation.'

      Cat shot him a resentful glare. ‘I have told your father everything I know about last night. Unfortunately, he doesn't believe me,’ she added disgustedly.

      ‘Maybe you would like to tell me what you know, Luke.’ It

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