Кейт Хьюит – Out of Hours...Her Ruthless Boss: Ruthless Boss, Hired Wife / Unworldly Secretary, Untamed Greek / Her Ruthless Italian Boss (страница 19)
If Cormac hadn’t insisted on his own way—and finding his own wife—men like Dan White, good, steady,
If she hadn’t agreed…
She was as much to blame as Cormac. No matter what he’d threatened her with, she could have said something. Done something.
She’d simply wanted an adventure too much.
And now she’d had enough, even as she wanted more. There was a part of her that longed to run back to safety, to the shelter of her former life. And another part—a treacherous, tempting part—wanted this. A life. Cormac.
She smiled again at Wendy and returned to her seat, trying to involve herself in Hilda’s cheerful conversation about the resort and its plans.
The words washed over her, soothing sounds, no more than white noise. Her mind buzzed with questions. Questions about herself, about what she wanted.
Cormac.
What was she thinking? What did she want?
Finally, the men left the rocky outcrop. Lizzie watched Cormac walk over to her, smiling easily although his eyes looked blank, preoccupied.
‘How was it?’ she asked in a murmur. She glanced at Geoffrey, who was looking sulky, and Dan, who greeted Wendy with more concern than he’d ever shown about winning the commission.
‘Fine.’ Cormac raked a hand through his hair. ‘Jan likes my ideas, but Stears keeps making remarks and I can tell they’re starting to hit home.’
‘He knows, doesn’t he?’ Lizzie said, fear plunging icily in her middle.
‘Of course he knows. He can’t prove anything, though.’ His eyes rested on Lizzie for a moment and she felt their warmth, a radiant heat that matched the sun.
They both burned.
‘We’ll just have to be more convincing,’ he said lazily. He pulled her towards him and she was too surprised to resist as he gave her a quick kiss. She knew it was calculated, a staged gesture, but it didn’t feel like it.
For one blazing moment she was conscious only of his lips on hers, hard and warm. He pulled away and there was no mocking laughter in his eyes, no sardonic knowledge. ‘Why don’t you get your swimming costume on?’ he suggested, and Lizzie opened her mouth to protest.
‘We’ll go snorkelling,’ Cormac continued. ‘The fish are amazing here.’
A treacherous thrill shot through her. She wanted to spend time with Cormac, she realised. She wanted to have fun. ‘I’m not a strong swimmer,’ she began, and he smiled, laced her fingers with his and drew her in for another kiss.
‘I’ll keep you safe.’
‘Cormac…’ Lizzie shook her head. She knew this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real. He was just acting. Yet, she realised faintly, everyone was chatting or changing. No one was watching them. There was no audience.
There was just them.
Why was he doing it, then?
‘All right,’ she said, and gave him a quick, uncertain smile before she fetched her swimming costume and ducked into one of the tents set up for the purpose of changing.
She emerged a few minutes later, resisting the urge to cover herself as Cormac looked across at her, his eyes sweeping over, then resting on her body, heat and awareness flaring in their depths.
She joined the others, wrapping a towel around her waist as a sarong. She needed some coverage, some armour.
It did little good, however, for she was as aware of Cormac as he was of her. He’d taken off his shirt and wore a pair of navy blue swimming shorts, and even though she’d seen as much of his body before, she couldn’t quite keep her eyes off him, taking in the hard contours of his chest, the tanned forearms resting on tapered hips, the long, powerful legs.
Every inch of him brown, beautiful, perfect.
Jan was advising everyone on the best areas to dive and snorkel, a pile of masks and flippers near his feet.
‘Careful over by the rocks,’ he warned, ‘there’s a bit of an undertow. Nothing too dangerous, but you should be cautious, especially if you’re not a strong swimmer.’
First, however, they ate. Staff had set up a delicious repast on a folding table and everyone helped themselves to fresh conch salad, warm bread and sliced mango and guava.
The tropical tastes were new and tangy on her tongue and Lizzie dug in with gusto, the sun warm on her shoulders, the breeze caressing her face.
She saw Cormac watching her, a strange, speculative look on his face, and she wondered what he was thinking…feeling.
A few days ago she wouldn’t have cared. She would have said Cormac Douglas didn’t
Now she wondered.
Lizzie turned back to her plate of food.
‘Care to snorkel, Elizabeth?’ Geoffrey had moved next to her when she wasn’t looking and now stood above where she was seated, his cynical gaze resting on her cleavage. ‘Lara’s not interested so perhaps I could show you some of the marine sights.’
The last thing Lizzie wanted to do was spend any time alone, anywhere, with Geoffrey, so she felt only relief when Cormac walked over and replied smoothly, ‘Actually, Lizzie and I are planning to snorkel together. That quality time, you know, is so important to couples.’
Lizzie nearly choked on a disbelieving laugh. Cormac talking about couples and quality time was too ludicrous to be believed.
And, by the looks of it, Geoffrey didn’t believe it, for his cynical smile widened and he raised his eyebrows.
‘Indeed.’
Cormac laced his fingers with Lizzie’s. ‘Tend to your own wife, Stears,’ he said pleasantly, and drew Lizzie towards the beach.
‘You shouldn’t antagonise him,’ Lizzie said in a low voice.
‘I wasn’t.’ Cormac sounded supremely unconcerned and, Lizzie thought, rather arrogantly so. Didn’t he realise what a danger—a threat—Geoffrey was?
‘Geoffrey already suspects,’ she said in a furious whisper. ‘If he mentions something to Jan, we could both—’
‘Jan will never listen to the likes of him,’ Cormac said dismissively. He bent down to sort through the pile of snorkelling gear. ‘The problem with Geoffrey is he thinks he can get what he wants by sneering and looking down his nose at everyone. I’ve seen it before. He’s lost more than one commission to me, you know.’
‘Is that why he’s out for your blood?’ Lizzie asked with a touch of acid, ‘or is it because you’ve slept with his wife?’
Cormac only chuckled. ‘Jealous, Chandler?’
‘Not on your life,’ she snapped, too quickly.
Cormac shrugged. ‘I’m not worried about Stears, at any rate. He’s too stupid to realise how you play someone like Hassell.’ He stood up, a mask dangling from his fingers. ‘Here, this should do nicely for you.’
Lizzie stared at him, suddenly feeling icy cold despite the blazing sun on her body.
She shook her head. ‘Is everyone just a pawn to be used to you?’
He cocked his head, his eyes vivid and alert, yet with a certain hardness to his face, his mouth. ‘What do you think?’ he asked.
Lizzie was compelled to admit, ‘I don’t know. I was beginning to think…to wonder…’
He stared at her and Lizzie saw irritation flicker in his eyes. He thrust the mask at her. ‘Try this on.’ He turned away to sort through the rest of the gear and Lizzie was left to slip the mask on—just one more layer hiding her from the rest of the party…and the man before her.
A few minutes later they stood at the edge of the sea, Lizzie feeling both absurd and nervous in her snorkelling gear.
‘I’m not much of a swimmer,’ she reminded Cormac, nudging the gentle waves dubiously with one flippered foot.
‘Then we’ll just stick close by the shore.’ He reached a hand out, tugging on her fingers as a smile tugged on his mouth—and Lizzie’s heartstrings. ‘Come on, Chandler. I promised I’ll keep you safe.’
She bristled even as she moved forward, reluctantly and inexorably pulled towards him.
‘Why should I trust you?’ she muttered, and his deepening smile went right through her soul.
‘Because you can.’
It wasn’t a reason. It wasn’t even close to a reason, considering how he’d lied, cheated and manipulated his way this far.