Champagne Girl. Diana Palmer

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Champagne Girl - Diana Palmer

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      “Yes you will.” He brushed back a strand of chestnut hair from her shoulder. His eyes held hers.

      She moved away from him, fighting for composure. “I won’t be just one in a line,” she said. “I won’t let you seduce me. You’re just after a new thrill. And I’m not going to be it,” she said firmly.

      He laughed deep in his throat, and his eyes were bright with amusement. “Coward,” he murmured dryly.

      She flushed, and almost ran back into the dining room. Catching herself, she slowly opened the door and left him standing in the hall.

      * * *

      Catherine didn’t hear another word that was said to her for the rest of the night. She smiled and talked automatically, and all the while she felt Matt’s hands, the sigh of his breath on her mouth. She ached all over with strange new hungers, feeling oddly restless and irritable. And in the morning she was going to have to pretend she felt nothing because Matt was astute and it would be suicide to let him see how she felt. If only she knew what kind of game he was playing! Would he really go that far? Would he tease her just to keep her under his thumb? She lay awake until the early hours, worrying about it, more determined than ever to break free before she fell victim to his dark, sensuous charm.

      Hal flew out sometime in the night and wasn’t at the breakfast table the next morning. Betty was, though. And Matt.

      He watched Catherine over his second cup of coffee, his eyes mocking as she fumbled her way through bacon and eggs.

      “Such a lovely day, after all that rain,” Betty was saying. “I think I’ll drive into Fort Worth and do some shopping. Catherine, can I pick up anything for you?”

      “No, thank you, Mama,” Catherine replied, trying to stop her renegade heart from running wild every time Matt looked in her direction. He was wearing a three-piece gray suit, and he looked debonair and worldly.

      She had on a simple short-sleeved green knit top and a skirt, and was worried that she might be overdressed for her first day on the job. “I didn’t know what to wear this morning,” she began hesitantly.

      “Angel and the other girls usually wear dresses or skirts,” Matt told her. “Jack, our sales manager, wears a suit. I alternate between suits and jeans, depending on my schedule. Today I have to fly down to San Antonio, so I’m a bit more formal. But we don’t have a dress code. You can wear jeans if you like.”

      “I’ll remember tomorrow. Do I get my own office?” she asked with a smile.

      “You can share mine, honey. I’ve got an extra desk.” He finished his coffee. “Ready?”

      “Yes. See you later, Mama,” she murmured, rising as Matt held her chair. She couldn’t help but be puzzled by his new polite behavior. Even Betty seemed to notice, but she only smiled.

      It felt strange riding beside Matt in his Lincoln. He glanced at her curiously; it wasn’t like her to be so silent, so subdued.

      “What’s wrong?” he asked gently as he pulled up in front of the ranch office.

      “Nothing,” she said quickly and gave him a flashing smile. “I was just thinking up ideas for the sale.”

      Fortunately, he took that at face value. He got out and opened her door, but he paused when she expected him to move, so that she cannoned into him.

      His hands, firm and strong, caught her shoulders and he was so close that she felt his breath in her hair. He smelled of spice and tobacco, and the muscular warmth of his body enveloped her from head to toe. She couldn’t quite breathe, and she didn’t dare look up. Her heart was beating like mad.

      “You’ve avoided looking at me all morning,” he said quietly. “Is it because I tried to kiss you…or because I stopped too soon?”

      Her face burned in reaction. And still she couldn’t look up. Her lips parted on a rush of breath. “It’s…new.”

      “Yes.”

      “Matt…”

      “What?”

      “Just…Matt.” She lifted her face then, and her misty green eyes sought his. He seemed to stop breathing and just stared at her. He didn’t smile. His eyes searched, probed.

      “Don’t be afraid of me, Kit,” he said, his voice deep and slow and soft.

      “You’re a stranger.…”

      He shook his head. “No. You’re just looking at me in a different way.”

      “Why?” she asked, needing to know.

      His hands tightened on her shoulders. “One day at a time, honey,” he said then. “Don’t ask questions until you want the answers. Let’s get to work.”

      He turned her and prodded her toward the big one-story building that housed an impressive computer setup. He had four young women working for him and two salesmen. Hal, when he was in town, had his own office, as well. It was a smoothly run operation. Thousands of dollars’ worth of cattle were bought and sold without a single head being moved physically. Matt even had cattle on videocassettes so he could show them to prospective buyers out of town. It was a wildly progressive kind of business, and Matt ran it with ease.

      He showed her into his private, carpeted office. The room looked like it belonged to Matt, all tough leather and earth colors and hardwood. There were two desks: his and a smaller one, where a computer and printer sat.

      “You know how to use this, don’t you?” he asked, smiling amusedly.

      She glared up at him. “Yes. I had one just like it at school.”

      His eyes dropped to her mouth, and she was glad there were other girls working here. It kept him from doing what she really wanted him to do.

      “If you have any problems with the computer, Angel can help you. She’s the brunette at the desk outside my office. She has the preliminary information on the sale, as well. Until I volunteered you, it was her job to get it together for the public relations people. Okay?”

      “Okay.” She sat down and stared at the keyboard, a hundred conflicting emotions making her restless, disturbing her. She was hot despite the air-conditioning. It was already late September, but the weather was getting hotter instead of colder, if today was any indication.

      “Don’t wear your hair like that tonight,” he said suddenly.

      She glanced up, remembering that she had her chestnut waves in a bun on top of her head. “What?”

      “Leave it loose. I hate hairpins.”

      “Do you ever stop giving orders?” she asked.

      “Sure. In bed.”

      Her face flushed, and he smiled—a sensual, confident smile that frightened her a little. He was a predator, and she was the quarry. That was what she’d always thought she wanted, but now that it was happening, she was afraid.

      “Anyway,” she continued nervously,

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