‘Food, wine and anything else you want.’ He moved aside, allowing her to get into the car. ‘You amaze me almost every day, Lauren Taylor.’
* * *
Lauren was the one surprised as she entered the modern single-storey town house not far from the city. He’d driven into the garage, led her through the door into a laundry and then along a hallway into one of the most sparsely furnished rooms she’d ever seen.
There was a long soft leather lounge, a coffee table and a television on a wooden cupboard. No rugs, no cushions. No books, ornaments or pictures.
She appreciated he was renting, and had been working long hours under extreme pressure, but...
Matt’s eyes followed her astonished gaze, and for the first time he saw his home as it was. He’d bought the barest necessities, hadn’t been planning on long term or entertaining.
He shrugged and gave a rueful grin.
‘Not exactly home beautiful, but I don’t spend a lot of time here.’
‘Are the other rooms the same?’
Leaving the Thai food and bottle of white wine on the table, he held out his hand.
‘Guided tour included with the meal. Any constructive opinions welcome.’
She didn’t say a word as he pushed open doors to reveal a desk and office chair in one room, suitcases and boxes in another, the bathroom, and finally the main bedroom.
It contained bedside drawers and a rumpled king-sized bed, which dominated the space but he never slept well in anything smaller. Since moving in he’d crashed every night into deep, unbroken sleep, including a few times in the lounge. Except for the last two nights, and his restlessness was evident from the unmade bed.
His senses were on super alert, tuned for her slightest reaction. He heard the faint intake of breath, saw her shoulders twitch and the convulsive movement in her throat.
Berating himself for his insensitivity, he drew her away, and pulled the door shut behind them, praying she didn’t think he had an ulterior motive bringing her here. He couldn’t ignore the picture that had flashed into his head as he’d looked from his bed to Lauren, or its effect on his body.
‘I signed the lease in the morning, made the saleswoman’s day in the afternoon, and moved in two days later,’ he said, hoping to distract her as he took her to the kitchen area.
‘No dining setting?’
‘Not yet. The only person who visits is Alan, and we eat while we watch TV, usually the footy.’
She winced and he remembered her outburst yesterday morning. She hadn’t exaggerated her dislike of sport. Tonight he was determined to find out why.
‘We’d better eat before the food goes cold. Plates are in the corner cupboard. I’ll bring the glasses and cutlery.’
Clicking on the TV, he scrolled to the relaxing music channel, keeping the volume low. He sat, giving her space, and opened the Riesling, poured a glass and slid it in front of her.
‘Thank you. I’m guessing you like leftovers, from the amount of food you bought.’
‘It’ll taste as good tomorrow.’ He lifted his glass in salute. ‘To you, Lauren. You have my eternal gratitude for everything you achieved.’
She tapped her glass to his. ‘Even with all the angst it’s going to cause you?’
‘Hard facts can be dealt with. The uncertainty is what fuels suspicion and creates tension. I’ll be guided by the professionals and handle any repercussions.’
Lauren savoured the tang of the sweet and sour pork, and the mellow taste of the wine, but found the depth of the settee uncomfortable. It was built for taller people or for curling up on. A few thick cushions would solve the problem.
She put her plate on the table, slid onto the floor, and folded her legs.
‘Can we pull this closer so I can lean against the sofa? I don’t have your long limbs.’
He complied immediately. ‘I’m not rating too well, am I? I’m all set up for myself, didn’t expect to have visitors very often if at all.’
Then why that huge bed, looking as if there’d been plenty of action there last night? Did he have similar expectations tonight?
She choked on a piece of pineapple, took a soothing drink of wine, letting it glide down her throat. He’d said only Alan visited and she had no reason to dispute his word.
‘Are you all right?’
No, but admitting it might start a conversation she wasn’t ready for, probably never would be.
‘I’m fine. This is delicious.’
‘Hmm.’ He relaxed, elbow on the leather arm, his legs stretched out with one ankle over the other. Looking as hassle-free as a newborn baby.
Unlike her. Sitting down here might be easier on her spine but now he was only in her peripheral vision and other senses heightened. She became aware of muted sounds as he shifted or flexed muscle against the leather, and his ocean aroma teased her nostrils, overriding the piquant sauces of their meal. Occasionally his foot twitched.
The companionable silence stretched, the music soothed. She picked up her glass and sipped, letting her mind drift to a gentle touch, a guiding hand. A bewitching dance she’d never forget.
She turned her head, and caught him watching her, his lips curled, his dark eyes gleaming with unconcealed desire. He blinked and it vanished. Or had it been a reflection of her own?
‘Full?’
She could only nod, her throat too clogged to form words. He wanted to talk; she’d prefer to delay it any way possible. If he wanted her history, dared she ask for his? Wouldn’t it be better to have only memories of their time together untainted by his past?
The dishwasher was stacked, the food containers stored in the refrigerator. Lauren curled up in the corner of the settee cradling the remnants of her drink.
‘Top up?’ Matt waved the bottle in front of her.
Why not? She’d make it last ’til the end of the evening.
He half-filled hers, gave himself more then took the remainder to the fridge. Settling at the far end, he twisted towards her, one ankle balanced on the other knee. His arm lay along the back of the lounge, forming a perfect angle with his body for someone to snuggle into.
She stifled the sigh that threatened as she remembered the firm warmth of him, and the way her head rested cosily on his shoulder during the slow dances. A quick self-rebuke, a sip of wine and she met his gaze with a bravado her internal fortitude didn’t match.
‘So you didn’t inherit the sporting gene like your brothers?’ A coaxing tone, probably developed with his nephews, with an edge that said he wouldn’t give up until he’d learned all he wanted to know.
‘I was uncoordinated, couldn’t catch, throw or jump and had no interest in being coached to improve. Lately I’ve been wondering if I was the one who withdrew from my family rather than it being them who ignored my interests.’
‘Maybe lack of compromise on both sides.’
‘I believed I didn’t count so I stopped attending anything sporty and made a life on my own.’
He scooted along the cushions, stopping inches from her knees. His fingers caressed her neck and tangled into her hair.
‘You count, Lauren, in every way that matters.’
‘I know that now, just not sure how much with them.’
She suddenly hit him, flat-handed over his heart, making him jerk away.
‘Admit it, Matt Dalton, you were one of those guys like my brothers, who assumed being athletic made you better than those who weren’t. And more deserving of attention from girls.’
Matt’s fingers stilled, his stomach clenched. She’d nailed him. Major benefits of being in the school’s A-grade had been the accolades, the admiration of lesser-gifted pupils. The chicks he could take his pick from.
Hell, that sounded egotistical.
‘And I’ll bet you barely noti
ced anyone who wasn’t beautiful, confident and out there.’ Her jaw lifted and one finger tapped on his chest. Her hazel eyes flashed with challenge.
‘Ah, but I did.’ He grinned at her defiance. ‘I was nineteen, surrounded by adoring girls yet I followed a shy, unknown escapee into the dark and kissed her. She ran and I ended up going home alone because I couldn’t find her again.’
‘You didn’t?’
She doubted his word. Understandable maybe but it irked. He prided himself on his honesty. Taking her drink, he plonked it on the table heedless of the splashing droplets. He bent forward, splaying his hand on the lounge arm, enclosing her and forcing her to lean away.
‘You don’t believe me? How can I persuade you it’s true?’
‘You can’t.’ Proud and playfully stated.
She had no idea how provocative she looked arched over the armrest, enticing full lips parted and bold eyes sparking.
Or did she? The tapping stopped. Pity, he’d liked it from her. She sucked in a deep breath, her head tilted and wariness drove defiance from bright hazel.
Ashamed of his brash behaviour, he shifted but kept within reach. Picking up the glasses and holding hers out, he noticed the motion of the wine. From his trembling. He drained the remainder of his, shaken by his reaction.
‘Forgive me. I said tonight was for talking. I won’t make that promise for the future though. There’s something between us, Lauren, something too strong to ignore.’
‘It’ll pass. There’ll be other women in your life.’
‘You’re the only one now. It’s you I want.’
Her head swung from side to side in slow motion as if that would change his statement. He halted the movement by cupping her chin.
‘I don’t lie, Lauren. And I can wait until you’re ready to admit it too. In the meantime, we could call Alan, who’ll confirm my story. I shared a cab with him and his date.’
She flicked him a half-smile. ‘No phones tonight, remember.’
Almost an admission she believed him. He feigned an affronted air.
‘You questioned my word. I deem that an emergency.’
Her instant laughter hit a spot deep inside, denting the armour he’d placed around his heart. Scaring the hell out of him. He’d sworn never to be vulnerable again.
‘So why Sydney?’ Out of the blue to give him recovery time.
‘I was offered a challenging position interstate from Melbourne.’
‘A long way from your family.’
‘I didn’t disown them. I keep in touch, visit reasonably regularly, and always see them when they come to Sydney for a sporting fixture.’ She spoke defensively as if she’d heard censure in his voice.
‘Which you don’t attend.’
‘No. They seem to have accepted I’m different. I’m hoping they give this new consideration to their grandchildren.’
‘My eldest nephew loves anything involving kicking or hitting a ball, the younger one can take or leave it. We’re trying to keep it all fun for as long as possible.’
‘There’s only the two?’
‘Alex and Drew.’ He recalled Lena’s expression when she’d told him she was pregnant, felt the same rush of affection he’d had then. ‘Lena and Mark would love a little girl as well.’
‘I wish them success. What did you do in London?’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
STUPIDLY BECAME INVOLVED with a scheming adulteress. Confused physical idolisation with love and almost got sucked into a nightmare.
‘I’m a partner in a consultancy firm. We tailor business strategies, give advice and bring investors and companies together. Unlike my father, we don’t invest in them though I do have my own portfolio. And I’m very good at what I do.’
She looked away, tightened the hold on her glass, and seemed to shrink in front of his eyes. He thought through his statement, trying to pinpoint what might have upset her.
It hit him like a hammer to his gut, almost overridden by the elation that flooded him. The present tense, still committed. Planning to return.
His heart flipped and his pulse raced. Had she already thought about making love with him and now believed she’d end up hurt if they became involved? It didn’t have to be that way if they were completely open and honest. If they didn’t let emotion rule their heads, they’d have no regrets when it was over.
He fought the urge to reach for her, draw her into his arms, and tell her that was how it would be. She wasn’t ready for such a declaration yet.
‘I haven’t changed my status as a partner because of the uncertainty. The best scenario would be to get everything legal at Dalton Corporation, and any due taxes paid. I’ll get the new project running then I can decide on my future.’
Her sceptical gaze met his. Somehow he had to convince her he was telling the truth, that his main objective was to make the company strong and viable. He hadn’t allowed himself to think beyond that.
‘Legal proceedings allowing, I’ll try to use the same procedure we have in London with Dad’s clients, making them independent. The project with Duncan is different, a change of direction for me, but it will stabilise Dalton Corporation.’
Her body had inched forward as if drawn by a magnet. Now the only movement was the slow rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes didn’t waver from his.
‘It sounds long term.’ Husky with a hint of hope. Dared he wish too?
‘Anyone’s guess. There are too many factors involved.’
Lauren’s anticipation deflated. She stared at the glass in her hand, wondering when she’d drunk the remaining wine. From the moment they’d met tonight her emotions had taken her on a loop-the-loop ride, twisting her in knots, ending with a crash landing.
The agenda he’d described would take time and effort. He’d shrugged it off as no big deal, easily done. Then Europe and his partnership would beckon and he’d go with no looking back. And while he might caress and cajole, he’d never pressure her against her will.
She just wished she could decide what she wanted most.
‘Your glass is empty.’
His fingers brushed hers as he took it and she trembled. Something fiery flared in his eyes.
‘Would you like a hot drink?’
‘No, thank you.’ She snuck a glance at her watch as he turned away, torn between wanting to stay and having space to fortify her defences against his charm.
‘Hinting it’s time to go home?’ The laughter in his husky voice teased, and she dipped her head to hide the inevitable blush.
He shuffled closer, avoiding contact, the glasses clinking in his hand, and waited silently for her to raise her head. And the funfair ride took off again at his tender expression. Her stomach flipped, her heartbeat pounded and, she wasn’t exactly sure but...had her toes curled? Without even a touch.
‘Your choice, Lauren. I’ll call a taxi if you want to.’
‘Taxi?’ Sending her home alone. Shortest funfair ride ever.
‘I haven’t long finished the second wine. We’ll take a taxi now or have coffee and wait a little longer. I don’t take chances when I drive.’
A cosy trip in the back seat or more disclosures here?
‘Make mine weak white. Do you need help?’
He only had big mugs so hers wasn’t full. It was rich and sweet, complementing the meal. She sipped and enjoyed, noticed he took fewer, bigger swallows.
‘Sydney’s an expensive city to live in too. Do you live alone or share?’
His polite words were belied by the set of his shoulders, the slight tilt of his head and the heat in his midnight-blue eyes. There’d been no necessity to say he wanted her. Every look, every touch proved he did.
Did she give out the same signals? Her curiosity about him was all consuming yet he’d managed to avoid reve
aling much personal information.
‘Three friends and I put in a bid for one floor of an unbuilt apartment block. One of them is in banking and arranged the mortgages. We got a special price and an input into the layouts and décor.’
‘And?’
And what? The other half of his question. He was fishing about her private life.
‘I live alone. The other three have partners so it’s rare there’s not someone around. What about you?’
He ran his hand up her arm creating electrical zings on her skin. All over her skin. He faced her full on, his shoulder pressing into the leather back of the lounge, his arm flat along the top. His fingertips played with her hair.
‘Occasionally I have guests.’ His face darkened for a second as if remembering an unpleasant experience. ‘Not for a while.’
Matt brushed away the past, trying to concentrate on the now. She lived alone, she was single. There was no one who’d have cause to feel offended if he kissed her again.
A companionable silence settled. He gazed into his empty mug, multiple questions racing through his mind, each one too personal to ask unless he intended to make a move tonight. Common sense said it was too soon, they knew little about each other, needed time to build trust. However, would he ever fully trust a woman again?
His libido said he knew all he needed. He wanted her and he’d bet whatever part of the London flat he owned that she wanted him too.
A movement in the corner of his vision broke his reverie in time to see Lauren try to smother a yawn behind her hand. Guess it wasn’t going to be tonight.
‘You’re tired. What do you have planned for tomorrow?
‘I’m picking up a hire car and heading to the Barossa Valley for a couple of days. No schedule, just drive and stop whenever something takes my fancy. I’ll book into a local hotel each night.’
Two nights.
Plus almost three days without seeing her.
He straightened, tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, tried to ignore the tight band constricting his lungs.
‘You’ll be back in Adelaide on Friday?’ He had to know. Didn’t understand why.
A Bride for the Brooding Boss Page 11