by Kris Pearson
“I may as well take the bags to the bedroom. But I can hang them up later,” she added, hoping that would dismiss him. To her annoyance, he insisted on carrying most of them.
She preceded him down the wide hallway, acutely conscious they were once again alone in her bedroom. She’d left her chaste white nightgown draped over the foot of the bed, and his inquisitive eyes fastened on it as he laid his bags down. Kate felt a bubble of mirth threatening to escape. He must surely think it a surprising contrast to her rather risqué underwear.
She saw him glance at her small collection of makeup on top of the chest of drawers. Watched as he drew a deep breath and breathed the traces of perfume she’d already left in the room. This felt far too personal—she wanted him out right away.
“Thank you.”
“No trouble.” He didn’t move.
“I’ll be with you in the kitchen soon.”
He nodded absently, standing relaxed with one hand on his hip, the other hanging by his side. He was taking up a huge amount of space. He suddenly sighed, returned to the present moment and turned for the door. Kate wondered what he’d been thinking about. She was sure the light level dimmed as he left.
“Put that black shirt on for dinner,” he called back.
It was not a suggestion. It was a command.
She gained some much needed breathing space by sliding the clothes from their bags and smoothing them out on the bed. Her fingers ran sensuously over the soft possum, the supple leather, the cuddly velour of the robe.
She tipped the outrageous underwear from its pretty packet and stroked the silk and satin, smirking as she pictured him sorting through the displays in the no doubt classy boutique. She hoped he’d been embarrassed, choosing such intimate items. But perhaps he often shopped there for Lottie? Or a stray mistress or two? Kate couldn’t quite picture the buxom Dutchwoman in such flimsy finery, but who knew how other people lived? Her own mother—past sixty—had worn only lacy black undergarments, right up until her death.
Ignoring his suggestion of the new shirt, she slipped into the blouse she’d intended for the flight home next day. Emerald silk—good with her green eyes. She was certainly not going to let him dictate what she wore.
It was rather too business-like. She undid a button. Then another. Better. It would do. And she twisted her hair up and secured it out of his way.
Strolling back to the kitchen, Kate took time to admire the extraordinary collection of artwork displayed on the long gallery-style walls of the main hallways. Carefully directed lamps threw pools of light onto majestic and outrageous paintings. Some were Lottie’s... others were signed with famous names she’d seen only in exhibitions.
She stopped just short of the doorway, enchanted by three bizarre photographs. What was it about them? They were recognizable flowers, but had they somehow been manipulated to resemble insects? She leaned closer. Matthew’s shadow intruded. Once again she’d not detected his silent approach.
“Native orchids,” he murmured, standing close behind her. “Tiny things—no bigger than this.” He touched a hand to her sensitive earlobe and she flinched. A finger slid behind her ear. He held her lobe between his finger and thumb and tugged gently. Sensation shot to the pit of her belly. She willed the shivers to die down, certain he knew the effect it was having.
“Stop touching me all the time,” she snapped, pulling free.
With that tiny connection, he’d had total control of her body. Below waist level her hormones rampaged, her muscles twitched, she throbbed and moistened. His cologne wafted around her, and she forced herself to breathe slowly. Her eyes met his, reflected in the glass protecting one of the photos.
“Did you Photoshop them?” she asked, hoping she hadn’t offended him to the point that she’d lost all hope of getting the job. “They’re yours, I presume?”
He appeared unruffled by her sharpness. “One of the bonuses of tramping so far from the bright lights. These days I take a lot of photos for Lottie. She can’t really get into the wild country any longer.”
“And she paints from them?”
“Never a direct copy. But she chooses a bit from here, a piece from there... makes a whole new landscape.” He fell silent and at last turned away. “She’s not as well as she should be.”
Kate followed him the few strides to the kitchen. His face had closed up, forbidding her to ask more. He kept his back to her, removing the casserole of curry from the refrigerator, sliding it into the oven, rattling about in the cutlery drawer and going through to the dining room with a handful of knives and forks.
“See what you can do by way of a salad,” he called over his shoulder as he left the room.
She explored the huge pantry and the refrigerator. There were myriad salad vegetables and every kind of prepared dressing she could possibly need, but she perversely decided to make fresh vinaigrette using one of the plump lemons from the bowl on the marble counter. She sliced it in half, enjoying the fierce sharp progress of the knife through the juicy flesh, imagining she was slicing Matthew out of her life.
She worked quietly, absorbed in what she was doing. And a few minutes later found his reflection in the window glass in front of her. He’d changed into an open-necked shirt in some dark shade. A heavy gold chain lay on the olive skin that the unbuttoned collar revealed. She smiled, despite herself. She’d been wrong about his taste.
“Hmm?” he questioned.
“Nothing really. I just didn’t have you down as a jewellery man.”
She concentrated on peeling the slippery avocado in front of her, and looked up in surprise as the gleaming chain descended past her eyes and settled around her exposed throat. Her hands were too messy to bat him away.
The chain burned hot from his body. It was dazzling with the emerald silk of her blouse.
“Looks better on you,” Matthew murmured, too close to her rapidly heating ear.
“It’s beautiful. But take it away please.”
He ignored her. “Present from my ex. She chose the chain and got it right. I chose the woman and got it wrong.”
~♥~
He thought bitterly about Martine as he walked his fingers along the flat gold links, pressing them against Kate’s skin. Martine—the bitch of all time—who’d seen the way to obtain a huge divorce settlement by very creative blackmail. He wouldn’t be leaving himself open to anything like that again. Kate Pleasance was gorgeous. She’d kick-started his body into raging life again, but he was far from ready to trust without knowing a great deal more about her. If she was spying for Rob, she’d be out the door so fast she wouldn’t know what had hit her.
~♥~
His fingers progressed leisurely down past Kate’s collarbone—a slow intrusion that never touched her skin. Searing shivers of anticipation and dread rocketed through her body. If he slid his strong fingers off the chain to caress her breathless waiting flesh, what then? She had no idea.
“Stop it!” she gasped, just as the door knocker thumped. She’d never in her life been so glad of an interruption. Matthew laughed softly and turned away to welcome his visitors.
The instant he was out of sight, Kate bent and laid her heated face against the cold marble counter, rolling from one flushed cheek to the other until she heard footsteps nearing.
Diana breezed into the kitchen with dessert. “Banoffie Pie—have you tried it, Kate? Bananas and caramel. Hamish’s favourite.”
Kate smiled shakily, still greatly affected by the piercing waves of lust and dismay washing through her.
Matthew and Hamish followed Diana, both tall, both dark, so obviously brothers. Hamish was just a little shorter, a little paunchier, noticeably several years older.
She shook his hand. No electric spark.
If it had been Matthew, she knew the jolt through her body would have been extreme. Lord, she didn’t need his whole warm hand to unsettle her. Just a finger jiggling her earlobe seemed to be enough to make her lose control.
Des
pite Matthew’s earlier assertion that they rarely used the formal sitting room, he led them through to there. Drinks had been set out on a low table. A bowl of salty cashew nuts and another of excellent olive oil sat beside the glasses. Diana carried in a platter of cubed-up crusty Italian bread for dipping, and Kate chose the seat on the sofa beside her, hoping to avoid Matthew. Hamish took the big armchair at the end of the table.
She sat quietly, enjoying listening, but adding very little to the conversation. The brothers talked contingency plans for the spring frosts... wind machines, helicopters... the price of French oak barrels. Diana discussed arrangements for Saturday’s party.
Kate watched Matthew covertly from her seat opposite. No-one else in the room really existed for her. With the other big couch all to himself, he sat relaxed, legs thrown open, one arm ranged along the sofa-back. He raised a foot and hitched his ankle up onto the opposite knee. The trouser fabric stretched tighter, over his long thighs and the enticing bulge displayed so blatantly between. The triangle of his open legs drew Kate’s eyes like a magnet. Warmth buzzed and tingled in her groin. She drew a sharp surprised breath.
What would he be like to make love with? Assertive and demanding, much as he’d been with her today? Expecting her to fall in with his wishes all the time?
Or tender and restrained, as she’d seen him with Lottie?
A sensualist for sure. His gentlest touch had lit Kate’s skin with a trail of incandescence. And he’d be physically impressive. A tall, fit man—used to tramping the surrounding mountains. The clues she’d gathered through his clothing screamed lean, strong, hard-muscled, olive-skinned. Her eyes roved once again to the apex of his thighs. She dragged them away just as he caught her looking.
Chapter Six — McLeod Brothers Wine
Heat rushed up her neck, flooding her face in a mortified blush. He had to know she’d been inspecting him right there. Thank heavens he couldn’t be sure what she’d been thinking. Or did he have a fair idea?
Sending her a speculative smile, he drew his knees together and made a great show of spreading one of the paper napkins over his lap so he could dip the bread cubes with no risk of dripping oil onto his trousers. He’d hidden her treat.
Kate bowed her head, refusing to look at him for long moments. “So you run the vineyard together?” she finally croaked, desperately trying to cover the moment.
His smile grew broader. “No. Hamish is the viticulturist. I just tag along and obey orders.”
“Rather more than that,” Diana said. “He’s a computer man, Kate. Saw the possibilities of the Internet early on. Set up a provider service and then made his fortune by selling it to one of the big boys.”
“And negotiated a seat on their board to keep life interesting,” Matthew added, reaching out to snare a cube of bread.
“So you’re not home all that much?”
“Depends on the attractions here.”
Kate compressed her lips. That hadn’t exactly been a helpful reply, and she suspected he knew it.
“And I’ve set up a publishing company for some of my photographic projects,” he continued. “Based in New Zealand, but I sell globally. I travel on Lottie’s behalf, and for my own work.”
That still didn’t give Kate a lot to go on. She wondered what sort of clever questions she’d have to ask to break through his slick defences. It was a game he excelled at.
“Shall we eat?” Diana suggested a few minutes later.
Grateful for the distraction, Kate rose. And found Matthew instantly at her side, hand on her upper arm, guiding her into the dining room. Ready to flinch away at his touch, she noticed Hamish escorting Diana in the same fashion. So the brothers were protective men with impeccable manners? She softened a little and walked with him to the impressive dining table. He’d set four places at one end, and soft lamplight glowed on the folds of long linen curtains and polished timber.
“Girls’ night off,” he said, pulling out a chair for her. “Hamish and I’ll bring the rest of the food.”
“You’re having it easy,” Diana teased. “I happen to know Lottie made the curry, and I suspect this lovely salad is Kate’s creation.” She cast an approving eye over the big bowl of crisp vegetables.
“Yeah, yeah, and you made the pie,” he agreed. “Okay, I managed the rice. Happy now?” He departed with a grin.
The men returned carrying a bowl each, and set them onto heat-absorbing cork mats. Hamish pulled out his chair and sat.
Kate smiled to herself as she watched Matthew take their padded oven gloves out to the kitchen. She hadn’t expected that glimpse of domesticity. He brought back dishes of yoghurt, toasted coconut and other condiments. “Dig in,” he said, handing Kate a big serving spoon.
“Guest of honour should go first,” she countered, trying to hand it to Hamish.
“You’re the visitor,” Hamish returned cheerfully, already helping himself to rice. “Some for you, hon?” he asked Diana. She handed her plate across and he piled it up.
Kate spooned out some curry, wondering how fiery it would be, and sniffing cautiously.
“It’ll be fairly hot,” Diana said, interpreting her hesitation correctly. “Lottie’s mother is Indonesian Dutch, so the spices are authentic. You can cool it down with the yoghurt.”
“Or a cold beer?” Matthew suggested.
Kate shook her head. “Not after the wine, thanks.”
“Anyone else?” he asked, glancing around the table. Heads were shaken. “More wine all round then,” he said, striding out to the kitchen and returning with four fresh glasses and a different bottle.
Kate glimpsed the distinctive McLeod Brothers label again. “Do you always drink your own wine?” she asked.
“Someone has to,” Hamish said with a wry smirk.
Diana smiled. “He keeps a keen eye on the competition—by sampling their fine products of course.”
“But we trot out the good stuff when it’s family,” he confirmed, taking a closer look at the label as Matthew positioned the glasses. “I thought you’d finished this vintage?”
“I kept a few bottles aside for special occasions.”
“And it is an important birthday,” Diana inserted.
Matthew poured, and handed the wine around. “Absent friends,” he said, lifting his glass in a toast. “Shame Lottie’s not here. All the family together.”
Everyone sipped and set their glasses down.
“Do you have brothers or sisters, Kate?” Diana asked.
Kate shook her head. “Only child. I would have liked a sister at least, but my mother... had problems in that department. I have a younger female cousin I’m fond of. Alfie.”
“Alfie? For a girl?”
“Poor thing—she’s named after her grandfather. He’s Alfred. She’s Alfrieda. I don’t see her often because she lives way out on a farm.”
Diana sent her a soft smile. “Two boys for us.”
“I bet they’re good company for each other.”
“Most of the time,” Hamish agreed. “Until one of them pinches something belonging to the other. Then all hell tends to break loose.”
Matthew laughed. “Sounds like you and me when we were younger.” He turned to Kate. “You’ll meet them on Saturday, if not before.”
“If I’m still here.”
“You’ll be here,” he confirmed with arrogant off-handedness. “I’ve already re-booked your ticket. Sunday evening to Auckland. Okay?”
Kate held his gaze without flinching. “So you’re sending me home. No job?”
He shrugged. “We’ll see. Everything’s been turned on its head now Lottie’s injured. You’d have to go home eventually to collect the rest of your clothes anyway.”
So just like that, she’d be dismissed? It stung.
“Oh yes, clothes,” Diana exclaimed. “How did the shopping go?”
Kate forked up some more curry and swallowed it before answering, wondering if Matthew would comment first. “It was fine,” she
eventually replied. “I don’t think I needed everything we bought, but I was ganged up on. So I have jeans, leggings, a couple of jerseys, a leather jacket I certainly wouldn’t have chosen...”
“It looked good on you,” Matthew interrupted. “You can borrow the padded one again if you want.”
“...and a cardigan and some shirts and a lovely warm robe.”
She noticed neither of them mentioned the lingerie.
“Good work,” Diana said. “And you’ve met Lottie now?”
“Finally awake,” Matthew confirmed. They must have given her horse tranquiliser.”
“I don’t blame them,” Hamish muttered. “She can be a hell of a drama queen.”
“Yep, she was having a moan about the food when we arrived,” Matthew agreed, apparently not the least put out to have Lottie referred to so unkindly.
Hamish and Diana laughed.
“Nothing wrong with this food,” Kate said, spooning out a little more curry.
Diana nodded. “True. I wonder if Lottie could make me a nice big pot of it for the party? Maybe a little milder?”
“Consider it done,” Matthew said. “Although she’ll probably achieve it by barking orders at Kate or me while we skivvy for her.”
~♥~
He turned to watch Kate. The soft lamplight brought out dark red highlights in hair that otherwise looked black. She’d pulled it away from her face and fastened it with the big spring-clip so a luxuriant mane of waves tumbled down the centre of her back. Her emerald green shirt emphasised the colour of her eyes. And in the unbuttoned opening at her throat, his chain sparkled and glimmered like a line of golden fire. Under the table, his groin stirred. He parted his thighs, making no effort to suppress the pleasurable sensation.
What was she really here for? So far, she’d shown no real signs of interest in his work. Had sent his office only the briefest of glances from the doorway when he’d given her the house tour. And seemed more interested in the vineyard than anything else. Rob Pleasance wasn’t associated with the wine industry, so there was no danger of industrial espionage in that direction. Undoubtedly Rob might have shares in some of the leading brands, but Matthew knew enough about him to be certain wine wasn’t the focus of her sneaky investigations. He eased his thighs further apart, leaning back in his chair to savour the sensation, and thinking back to her frank appraisal as they sat together in the sitting room. Thank God for big white paper napkins, or he would have given his interest away entirely. And in front of his brother and Diana, too...