Claiming His Mistress. Emma Darcy
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу Claiming His Mistress - Emma Darcy страница 8
“Miss Beaumont?”
Laura was paused in front of her, a slight frown questioning the delayed reaction from Katie.
“Sorry. I’m a bit thrown by the change.”
An understanding smile. “There’s no need to be, I promise you. Mr. Dane follows exactly the same company policies as Mr. Freeman.”
Katie expelled a long breath to ease the tightness in her chest. “Okay. I’m coming.”
Laura nodded approval as Katie pushed her feet into taking the path to Carver’s office. The carpet was dove-grey. It felt like sand dragging at every step she made.
She told herself Carver wouldn’t want this meeting any more than she did. He’d been landed with it because he was available and Robert Freeman was busy. Which surely meant he would keep it strictly business, totally ignoring the intimacy of their former relationship.
Or was the intimacy the buccaneer had shared with Carmen as sharply on his mind as it was on hers?
Katie instantly clamped down on that thought. But her stomach contracted at the memory and to her horror, some wanton rush of excitement attacked her breasts, just as Laura came to a halt, gave a courtesy knock on a door, and opened it.
“Miss Beaumont for you, Mr. Dane,” she announced.
“Thank you, Laura,” came Carver’s voice.
It had the same deep timbre of the pirate king’s! Why hadn’t she noticed that before? Because she’d been in too much of a flap over running into Carver and she hadn’t smelled the cologne until he was on the point of leaving her. But now…her heart started thundering in her ears.
Laura stood back and waved Katie forward.
She had to walk into Carver’s office, face him, and pretend everything they’d ever known together was water under the bridge, including a fantasy that was fast gathering too many shades of reality.
Having constructed a somewhat rueful smile to ease her over the next few moments which were fraught with pitfalls, Katie willed her legs to move without wobbling, thanked Laura for her services, then stepped into what she couldn’t help thinking of as the torture room.
Like going to the dentist.
Only worse.
No one here was going to give her an anaesthetic to kill pain.
She heard the door shut behind her. Goose bumps rose on her skin at the realisation she was once again enclosed in a space shared only with Carver Dane. At least it was bigger than an elevator, she hurriedly told herself, and there was furniture to keep them separated.
“Hello, again.”
The greeting forced her to fasten her gaze directly on the man himself. He’d been on the periphery of her vision, standing to the side of his desk. She’d felt him watching her, probably assessing her reaction to the changed appointment, and a sudden surge of stubborn pride tilted her chin in defiance of any judgement he might have made.
“I wasn’t expecting this, Carver,” she stated bluntly.
“I do appreciate that, Katie,” he returned, his quiet tone aimed to soothe frazzled nerves. His mouth quirked into whimsical appeal. “Will it help if we pretend we’re meeting for the first time?”
Impossible! He’d taken off his suitcoat. Her mind’s eye was already measuring his shoulders, matching them to old and fresh memories, and her body felt as though it was pulsing to the imprint of every hard muscle in his very male physique.
“Why aren’t you a doctor?” she blurted out, totally incapable of putting him in a business frame.
He shrugged and moved to the front of the desk, propping himself against it in a relaxed pose that suggested he was prepared to be patient with her. “That was a long time ago, Katie. I might well ask what you’re doing here, seeking a business investment? Why didn’t you pursue the course you were taking to become a kindergarten teacher?”
Because I couldn’t bear being in the same city as you after the break-up. Not even in the same country! The words screamed through her mind but couldn’t be spoken. As he said, it was a long time ago.
“It’s just that I always thought of you as working towards that goal,” she said to explain her intemperate outburst. “To find you here…”
Carver stared at her, a hard bitterness coiling through him. How much had she thought of him? Certainly not enough to bring her back to Australia to find out if anything had changed for them. All those years he’d worked around the clock, needing to prove to himself—and her father—he could amount to something…had she given him anything more than a fleeting thought?
Even when he’d gone to England, she’d been off trekking through Greece and Turkey, spending her money on more travel away from him, and staying away so long he’d given up on any response to his letter—given up and trapped himself into a marriage that was bound to be sour before it had even begun, all because he’d been thinking of Katie.
Well, she could think what she liked. He wasn’t about to tell her what he’d been through. And certainly not why! The sexual attraction was still strong, but he was never going to let Katie Beaumont into his heart again. He’d been there, done that, and any private intercourse between them now would be based on sex, which he very definitely wanted and would find very sweet…with her.
He enjoyed her obvious confusion of mind before cutting it off. “So…you want my credentials before dealing with me,” he drawled, and enjoyed it even more when a flush rose up her neck and spread into her cheeks, making them almost as red as her sweater…as red as the provocative dress Carmen had worn.
“I’m sure they’re everything they should be,” she rushed out, discomforted by the doubt she’d inadvertantly projected and retracting it as fast as she could. “You wouldn’t be in this position unless they were.”
“But it’s difficult for you to accept,” he taunted, cynically wondering if she’d come to accept her father’s view of him—a guy who was screwing a rich man’s daughter to make an easy track for himself to a better life.
“No. I…”
Words failed her. Her eyes flickered with confusion. Hazel eyes—grey and green with dots of gold, he remembered. Big, beautiful eyes to drown in…when he was much younger. Her face was still probably the most essentially feminine face he’d ever seen, its frame of black curls accentuating her pale creamy skin, the finely winged eyebrows, a delicately formed nose, and the very kissable, lushly curved lips.
Was she remembering how they’d once kissed?
Were the memories as recent as a few nights ago?
Right now she was boxed into a corner and struggling to get out, realising that referring to the past was a faux pas in these circumstances. She was the one in need of money, not him.