Barbara Wallace – Daring to Date the Boss / The Tycoon Who Healed Her Heart: Daring to Date the Boss / The Tycoon Who Healed Her Heart (страница 3)

She was waiting in her turn, but not to unsettle him. She watched him with the air of one awaiting the guillotine. After a long pause, she whispered, ‘Please don’t blame your staff, Herr Bollinger. It—it was my fault. I saw the cabin, and—and I wanted more privacy, so I …’

‘You bullied Max into it. I see,’ he said, trying not to laugh. Half an hour ago, he might have believed it, but now he could no more see her bullying anyone than he could see her drowning a kitten. He didn’t have a psychology degree, but his profession required an ability to read people, and something disturbed him about Rachel Chase-Rinaldi.

‘And are you aware that other guests are complaining of neglect while at least three members of my staff come here at a time to be regaled with your amusing tales of the life and times of a Hollywood wife?’

Now she looked like a hunted deer, trapped in the headlights of his interrogation. She licked her lips; her eyes darted around the room, obviously finding no ready answer. At least ten seconds too late, she said, ‘It was me, all me. I’ve … been lonely and, um, they’ve been doing what your brochure says—taking excellent care of me.’

Every word came out with the fumbling of an honest woman trying to find an excuse. She couldn’t meet his eyes as she had so easily while she’d been fighting only for herself.

This was not the woman on the TV who always had the right words to hand, who always knew how to comfort others. So which of the two was the real woman and which was the fake?

‘I’ll have to commend them, then—but the arrangements will have to change, Ms Chase,’ he said quietly. ‘The current situation is unacceptable to me, and to my guests and, now I’m here, it will draw the kind of attention I think you wish least.’

The chair opposite him scraped back hard. She got to her feet, sickly pale but with determination in those speaking eyes. ‘Of course, I understand. I’ll leave on the first train. Do you know if there’s one leaving tonight?’

Armand had to fight the urge to blink. Nothing had happened the way he’d thought it would. There was no triumph in running off a woman who looked like a shot fawn.

‘You don’t need to leave, Ms Chase. If we move you into a suite late tonight, when no one will see, the woman here disappears and you return to being just another guest.’

She shook her head. ‘I think it’s best if I just go. I’ve caused enough trouble for you and your people.’

He’d never know later what changed his mind, unless it was the hunted look on her face, the fear she was trying to hide beneath defiance and determination: a sham of strength beneath her pride. The wall surrounding her was crumbling, and she was falling apart behind it. I have nowhere to go, her eyes said. Just as his mother had looked the day his father had sent Armand to boarding school. Just as she’d looked the night before he’d left, as she’d watched him taking the blows for her.

‘You don’t need to leave, Ms Chase,’ he said abruptly, wondering what the hell he was saying even as he spoke. ‘I have a proposition for you.’

CHAPTER TWO

RACHEL’S jaw dropped. ‘What did you just say?’ she demanded when she found her voice. ‘No, you couldn’t have meant—it’s a language miscommunication, right? I’m sure you didn’t mean that to sound like …’ You’re babbling. Abruptly she shut her mouth.

For the first time, Armand Bollinger’s eyes gleamed with amusement. ‘I should have said a business proposition. I beg your pardon for the confusion, Ms Chase.’

Though the words were smoothly said, his tone was filled with mirth. He was laughing at her for even thinking he could be attracted to her.

She felt her cheeks heat. ‘No, I’m sorry I thought that you could … I realise I’m not …’ Once more she broke off. The turbulent confusion inside her had grown to mammoth proportions in the space of seconds. ‘Forget I said it,’ she muttered, and closed her mouth.

‘The word proposition is a double entendre in itself,’ he said, and ended on that odd note. It felt to her as if he wanted to say more, but thought better of it.

The silences were becoming awkward, but she’d only make a mess of it if she spoke.

A knock sounded, and they both jumped to their feet. ‘It’s all right, I’m closer.’ She ran for the door before he could.

His voice came from behind her as she opened the door. ‘There are two trays.’ He took the heavier one from one of the two staff members at the door, neither of whom were her usual friends. Rachel took the other tray, and with a brief thanks closed the door. Much as she wanted to have a buffer, she was not asking any of his staff to come in. She’d put them all in enough trouble as it was. Disturbed by something, but not sure by what, she returned to the dining room.

‘I ordered a white wine. Will you take some?’ he asked in a European way as he poured a glass. Looking up with a smile, he held it out to her.

As she took the glass—she loved a good Chardonnay—it occurred to her what she’d seen behind the waiter holding her tray. ‘There were people watching us from the restaurant terrace.’

Herr Bollinger nodded as he sat again. ‘Naturally, Ms Chase. My regular visitors have worked out that some VIP must have taken over my cabin in my absence—but I saw no one with a telephoto lens, so I doubt they saw you clearly. The cabin’s over three-hundred metres from the main resort.’ He began eating, seeming unperturbed. ‘And that leads me to my original subject. We have a mutual problem, and we need to work out a solution that works for both of us.’

Rachel tilted her head. ‘Why is my presence such a problem for you?’

He looked up. ‘I don’t bring lovers to my home, Ms Chase,’ he said, cool as the snow outside. He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. The lone wolf didn’t want to deal with the complications that arose from this: the expectations from the women he dated. ‘I expect it will be worse for you, with your husband publicly claiming your reconciliation. The pictures showing you together are obviously a mock-up, since he’s in LA and you’re here.’

If there was a question in his words, she wasn’t answering. She picked up her fork and began spearing lettuce and tuna.

‘Rebuke accepted, Ms Chase,’ he said dryly, ‘But you can’t just hide from the issue this time. We share this problem. I can’t sort it out without some sort of communication.’

‘Mutual confidences, you mean?’ she retorted. ‘No thanks. You decide what you want to do. You own the place.’ She popped the food in her mouth before she said too much.

After a little silence, he asked quietly, ‘Are you always so impetuous? You don’t know me. My solution might not suit you at all.’

‘You have almost as much to lose as I do,’ she said when she’d swallowed her food. She took a gulp of wine—a crime, really, given that it was true Burgundian Chardonnay. ‘We both need this resolved with discretion. It’s not as if you’re going to ask me to be your mistress.’

‘Is that so impossible?’ he asked with an elliptical smile that set her nerves on edge.

‘Given your anger over keeping this as your private hideaway without your future lovers invading? Yes, of course it is.’ She shoved a forkful in her mouth, letting him deal with her insights. She was curious to know if he’d be as sarcastic as Pete when she’d out-talked him.

At least I know he won’t hit me. I’m a paying guest, and he wants discretion as much as I do. He can’t afford to antagonise me.

And the truth of it gave her the courage to speak her mind. She need not fear this man, and that was so liberating, she wanted to laugh with the joy of it. She barely remembered the last time she hadn’t been afraid of someone’s disapproval.

‘I don’t know whether to say touché or en garde,’ he murmured, his voice rich with enjoyment. Was he enjoying this crazy seesaw of a conversation?

It was almost a revelation to her—or a revolution; she wasn’t sure. Because she discovered, on thinking about it, that she was enjoying it too.

‘Feel free to use either,’ she said, waving a hand around, mock sword-fighting. She smiled at him.

It felt like a sock in the stomach, seeing that mega-watt, big-as-her-heart smile tossed his way. Armand stopped in his tracks, abruptly lost in it. She wasn’t flirting or trying to make a connection. There was no agenda, no personal gain; she was smiling just because she wanted to. And it was like seeing a blazing blue sky after a long, dull winter. The absolute lift of his spirits started low down and finished with a light, silvery feeling in his head, as if he could fly.

Why her effect on him amazed him so much, he wasn’t sure, when he’d met a thousand beautiful women—but he definitely didn’t want to explore the issue. ‘Can we work out stratagems before we duel?’ he asked with deliberate lightness. Any kind of probing sent her into tight-lipped silence. He could think of far better uses for that gorgeously smiling mouth the colour of a pink rose.

‘Where’s the fun in that?’ she mock-complained, her eyes shining like sunlight in dark wine.

Damn it, he had to watch his thoughts or he’d be in trouble. The last thing he’d ever do was start up a flirtation with a guest. It led to a hundred different routes, all marked ‘danger’.