then annoyed her.
Gathering herself, she shot him a bold smile, hoping to ruffle his equilibrium as much as his gypsy-eyed stare had ruffled hers. But he didn’t smile back, merely lifted his drink to his lips again, keeping up his cool assessment of her over the rim.
Jade found her smile fading and an amazing blush heating her cheeks. Totally rattled now, she wrenched her eyes away from him to land on her frowning father, who couldn’t seem to make up his mind whether he liked how she looked or not. She appreciated his ambivalence, and found amusement in it, thank heavens. She needed something to break this awful tension that had been invading her since entering the room.
‘Good evening, Father, dear,’ she said, abandoning her usual address of Pops. ‘Kyle,’ she added, inclining her head their guest’s way without actually meeting his eyes.
Both said good evening back as she continued over to the rosewood drinks cabinet, where she mixed herself a triple Scotch and ginger ale, taking a deep swallow before returning to make the twosome a far from cosy threesome.
Her father clicked his tongue impatiently when he had to move his cane for her to sit down next to him. ‘Did you finish whatever it was you had to finish?’ she enquired casually, crossing her legs and tucking her ankles back toward the base of the sofa.
‘I think we tied up everything to our mutual satisfaction, wouldn’t you say, Kyle?’ Byron conceded, his reply not really telling her anything.
‘Yes, indeed,’ came Mr Cool’s equally uninformative remark.
Piqued, Jade decided to put this chauvinistic pair on the spot. ‘Auntie Ava says Kyle is going to be the new head of marketing at Whitmore Opals—is that right?’
‘Damned woman,’ Byron muttered under his breath.
Jade laughed. ‘Did I hear right, Father, dear? Are you calling me a woman at last?’
His hard blue eyes turned her way. Clearly, he would have liked to tear strips off her for her impudence, but the presence of a guest stopped him. With a great effort of will, Byron relaxed back on the sofa and found a smile that should have warned her what was coming.
‘A real woman is more than a set of curves, daughter, dear,’ he said with poisonous pointedness.
‘So true, so true,’ she returned airily after taking another deep swallow of her drink. ‘And a real man is more than an impressive set of—er—muscles. Don’t you agree, Kyle?’ she finished, flashing him a mock-innocent smile.
Good God, was she imagining things or was that actually a twinkle of amusement in those implacable dark eyes of his? His mouth, however, maintained its habitual straight line, though he did cover it slightly by lifting his drink to his lips once more.
The glass retreated and yes, his mouth was as unmoved as before. ‘I most certainly do agree, Jade,’ he said smoothly. ‘And you’re right about that other matter as well. Byron has offered me the position as marketing manager and I have accepted.’
Most Australians didn’t move their lips much when they spoke. Kyle Armstrong, however, had a surprising mobile mouth when he talked, his voice clear, cultured and well enunciated, like an actor. It drew one’s attention to his mouth, and his lips.
Intriguing lips, those, Jade realised, her gaze fastening on them, the top one thin and cruel, the bottom soft and sensual. Which was the real man? God, she just had to find out. But how? He wasn’t at all impressed by her. Or interested.
Or was he?
Her eyes lifted to that enigmatic gaze of his, only to find it fixed on the expanse of tanned thigh she was showing. Jade’s heart began to beat faster. Maybe he was a little interested. Maybe he was just good at hiding it. Maybe it was only her father’s presence that stopped him from showing any interest. What was he wondering while he looked at her legs? Was he speculating what it might be like to get lost between them?
Jade found herself pressing her thighs tightly together, appalled by the escalating explicitness of her thoughts.
So this was lust, she thought dazedly.
This was one of the seven deadly sins.
No wonder people fell prey to its seductive power. She’d never felt so excited, so driven.
Once again, she started hoping that Kyle might be married, so that she had a good reason to fight this alien force that was possessing her.
‘Are you married, Kyle?’ she asked abruptly.
‘No,’ he said, his brows drawing slightly together as his eyes lifted to hers. ‘Why do you ask?’
Perversely, she was relieved by the news, which didn’t augur well for her future behaviour. Jade suspected she was about to embark on a course of action even more outrageous than any she’d ever been accused of. ‘I was just wondering what your wife—if you had one,’ she added with a husky laugh, ‘might think of her husband moving interstate for a job.’
‘How did you know that...?’ The corner of his mouth tipped up into the tiniest of rueful smiles. ‘Ah...your Auntie Ava again?’ he suggested drily.
‘Of course.’
‘I’ll never tell that infernal woman another damned thing!’ Byron pronounced testily from the other end of the sofa.
‘Poor Auntie,’ Jade muttered before rounding on her father, her voice sharp. ‘Why all the cloak and dagger stuff, anyway? Who’d care if Mr. C—?’ She broke off, her eyes widening. My God, she’d almost called him Mr Cool out loud! Clearing her throat as a cover, she said ‘excuse me’, then sipped her drink. A fit of mad giggles sprang to her throat but she managed to stifle the urge and continue in a surprisingly normal voice. ‘I was going to say why shouldn’t other people know about Kyle’s appointment?’
‘Because I don’t want Celeste Campbell to get wind of it, that’s why!’ Byron snarled.
Jade raised her eyebrows. She often wondered what had happened between her father and Celeste Campbell to make their relationship so vitriolic on his side, and continuingly vengeful on hers. Celeste was, in fact, Jade’s aunt, being her mother’s half-sister. Her mother, Irene, had been Stewart Campbell’s first-born child, but his wife had passed away within weeks of Irene being born and the widower Campbell had subsequently remarried and had two more children, Celeste and Damian.
Jade found the antagonism between her father and Celeste Campbell quite perplexing. The ancient feud between their fathers, David Whitmore and Stewart Campbell, was well known, though not the reason behind it. Something to do with an opal, she had heard once, a very valuable one which had disappeared or something.
Whatever, after the two men passed away, her parents’ marriage had seemed to heal the rift between the families to a degree. Enough, anyway, for the old animosity to die down to nothing but normal competition between business people who shared a common trade. Apparently, however, when Celeste had taken control of Campbell Jewels about ten years ago, she’d found cause to resurrect the old feud between the Campbells and Whitmores.
It was a mystery all right and one which she didn’t think she’d ever solve. Her father was not about to confide in her. Neither was Celeste Campbell. Maybe they just hated each other’s guts. Or, more
