Because Audrey didn’t really care about security cameras watching she and Duncan. In fact, the thought tore a whimper from her throat and had her fingers skimming the inside of her thighs.
“Audrey.” The word was a harsh groan of need as Duncan slipped back into the car.
Her fingers stilled, and she looked over at him. His look was hungry; pure want burned in his blue eyes and sent more wildfire racing along her skin. She shuddered and swallowed, and knew they’d never make it back to London.
Not with the way he looked at her, with such intense need she thought she’d climax right there from that single look and her own teasing fingers. Duncan looked at her as if she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. Period. The sexiest, most precious woman he’d ever seen.
Her heart tripped and she found she couldn’t form words. No, that wasn’t true. She did have a word—one single word.
“Duncan.” Audrey’s voice was husky and low. She leaned over the console, grabbed his blue tie, and tugged him against her.
The angle was uncomfortable; the gear shift dug into her right thigh. Audrey just knew there were all sorts of cameras watching them, and she didn’t care. She attacked his mouth, tasting the tea he’d had for breakfast and the uniquely Duncan flavor of him. When the kiss broke, it was because Duncan pulled back, breaking their connection with a pop. In the silence of the car, all Audrey heard was the pounding rush of her heart.
She licked her lips, tasted him there, and leaned forward again.
But Duncan growled her name again and started the engine. She hid her confusion behind disappointment, even knowing they needed to return to London and his business deal. His very important business deal.
She swallowed and tried to think unsexy Duncan thoughts like…like…Libby! Yes, she tried to think about his annoying cousin Libby. But all Audrey could taste was Duncan, and all she could think about was his skin against hers.
Duncan turned off the main road and onto a single lane one instead. He didn’t say a word, but continued driving past a copse of trees until he turned left onto a narrow dirt road that Audrey hadn’t even seen until Duncan turned onto it. Reality tried to break in, tried to tell her that his Bentley was entirely too small for them to even have a quickie, but Duncan didn’t seem to care about reality. He rounded the car in quick strides, yanked open the door, tugged her out, and pushed her against it, slamming the door shut.
His lips were hot and hard on hers; his hands pinched her nipples through the layers between them. Audrey melted in his arms. Her fingers moved on their own, pulling at his belt and the button to his pants. She arched beneath him as his fingers slipped beneath her skirt.
She cursed herself for wearing the tights, yet another barrier between them.
Duncan ripped them. Audrey didn’t care, barely noticing. She breathed out his name when his fingers brushed over her sensitive core. Screamed his name when he thrust two fingers into her.
Somehow he moved her to the hood of the car, and Audrey had the insane thought that she’d missed this when she’d been in high school. She’d never had sex on the hood of a car. Or in a car, for that matter.
But then Duncan’s mouth was on her neck; her fingers were pushing his annoyingly stubborn pants out of her way, and he entered her.
Her breath caught when he stilled, and Audrey locked her legs around his waist and opened her eyes. Not enough of his skin touched hers, she thought, as he slowly slipped deeper insider her. She didn’t want a quickie, though any sex with Duncan was fantastically hot. She wanted a slow day in bed, her mouth on his, her hands on him, bringing him to the same fever of arousal he brought her.
She watched him, gaze heated on hers, and totally focused only on her, and realized she wanted a lazy aftermath, curled around him as they talked, kissed, daydreamed.
Her heart flipped and her breath hitched, and she fell into his depthless gaze and lost herself.
Duncan moved then, with hard, deep strokes, each one driving her closer and closer to the edge. She ran her fingers down his back, cursed his clothing, and arched beneath him to feel more of him.
Audrey blinked. Time snapped and the fevered rush that had sparked this madness took over. Duncan thrust into her, moving hard, and she met his every move. Need coiled within her higher and higher as Duncan moved faster and harder. Her orgasm broke over her in white-hot waves, and she cried out his name.
When she opened her eyes again, it was to find him still watching her with that same intense focus. Audrey breathed deeply and realized he hadn’t once looked away from her. Not as he kissed her, not as he’d slipped the condom on, not even as he’d made her scream his name. Duncan had watched her the entire time.
And it touched a part of Audrey she hadn’t realized was cold and lonely. She couldn’t decipher that look; the intensity of it warmed her even as it scared her. Even as it made her want to run from this between them.
His mouth was soft and warm as he withdrew. She straightened and shoved that warmth to the background. Audrey tried to fix her clothing, but her tights were ruined, and she had no idea what happened to her panties. Had she heard them tear? She looked around but didn’t see them lying on the ground.
Duncan tucked himself back into his pants. Audrey really wanted to tear those pants off him.
Good Lord, she was a forward hussy with Duncan.
Laughing, she slid back into the car, waited for him to do so as well, and placed her hand back on his thigh. The rest of the drive back to London was done in silence, which, unfortunately, gave her plenty of time to think.
About Duncan and what he meant to her, about her flight back to New York in a couple days, and about how her heart was ever going to heal.
But Duncan needed her to put together a last-minute dinner party for Monsieur Reynard, and she’d do that.
Once back at the townhouse, and with the memory of Libby telling Duncan she’d see him back here echoing in her ears, Audrey headed for the kitchens. She was used to putting together charity events, making certain the models were expertly clothed and coifed, and that no detail went wrong.
She’d never planned a dinner party on this scale, per se, but was confident enough in her abilities to know she could pull it off. An hour later, laughing with the cook, she returned to the dining room.
One of the servants laid out the silverware, and Audrey smiled at her. The other woman offered a tentative smile in return and a quick bob of her head. Confused at the woman’s timid behavior, Audrey continued onto the foyer. Duncan wasn’t due back here with Reynard for an hour or so, and she wanted to make sure she looked the part of the earl’s hostess.
The thought sent a pleasant tingle through her, and as her heels echoed on the flooring, Audrey allowed herself to wonder what it’d be like to always be his hostess. The front door slammed closed, startling her out of her daydream.
True to her threat, Libby had arrived.
Dressed in expensive slacks and a too-tight top with big, glittery sunglasses, Libby carried only her purse. She hadn’t seen Audrey just yet. Instead she looked around the foyer as if expecting Mr. Granwood. Was that the butler’s real name? Or a butler stage name? Audrey shrugged and wondered if butlers had butlery names. Still, she felt sorry for Granwood if he had to deal with Libby on any kind of regular basis, because Audrey knew the other woman was standing there waiting for Granwood to fetch and carry for her.
Suppressing a scowl at Libby’s arrival, Audrey stepped into the foyer.
Offering a cool grin, Audrey nodded. “Hello.”
It was as polite as she could manage, and even then the words got caught in her throat.
“Oh. You’re still here infesting Duncan’s orbit?” Libby dismissed Audrey with a quick shake of her head. She slowly took off her sunglasses and slipped them into a case before returning both to her oversized purse.
“Lovely to see you too, Libby.” Audrey ignored the other woman and rounded the base of the steps to head upstairs. “I have to change.”
On the third step from the bottom, Audrey glanced over her shoulder and looked down at Libby. “They’re right next to the Prada muzzles. I suggest you use one.”
She continued to the next step but naturally engaging with Libby was a mistake.
“You shouldn’t be here tonight,” Libby said in a patently false sympathetic tone. “You do understand dear Duncan is bringing home a very important European man to do business with.”
Audrey wondered if Libby knew the boundaries of Europe then squashed that thought. She had enough issues with Libby’s cattiness without adding to it. And she was Duncan’s cousin; she supposed she could be nice to her. Really. Oh, her fellow New Yorkers would be so disappointed in her held tongue!
“Oh, I’m very aware,” Audrey said but didn’t turn on the step. “Duncan asked me to assist with the dinner party this evening. Therefore,” she added with a hard tone that escaped the tight control she had on her sarcasm, “you’re not needed.”
Libby took an angry step closer. Her eyes flashed hatred, and Audrey wondered what she’d done to cause such instantaneous hatred. Was it because she’d obviously brought a friend to entice Duncan? To be fair, the friend seemed surprised Duncan already had a date this morning at breakfast. So Audrey supposed she shouldn’t be too angry at the still-nameless female, though she couldn’t help the territorial feeling that made her want to tell everyone Duncan was hers.
Even if he couldn’t be.
But Libby was something else entirely. The woman clearly hated her for no other reason that Audrey could see, other than she was far curvier than Libby thought was necessary.
“Do you really think you’re the image Duncan needs to portray in his business?” Libby spat. “I was told,” she said, clearly implying that her source lacked credibility, “you’re a stylist in New York. That’s a very behind-the-scenes occupation.”
And her enunciation on “occupation” was clearly meant to portray Libby’s distaste for working. Audrey resisted the impulse to roll her eyes.
“Behind the scenes is where you should stay,” Libby added with an ugly twist of her lips. “Duncan is very much an upfront gentleman. And the woman on his arm should be…” She paused and tried to untwist her ugly sneer into something more seductive. It didn’t work. “Suited for that position.”
“I’m sure that if you weren’t so directly related to Duncan, you’d certainly open those dimpled knees for him,” Audrey spat. She couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. The woman was cruel, blind, and just plain annoying. And Audrey really, really wanted to take her down more than a notch. “You’d certainly snatch that position for yourself. Except Duncan has better taste.”
Taking her time, she looked Libby up and down, very slowly and obviously finding fault. “In both women and fashion.”
Facing forward again, Audrey continued up the stairs. She ignored Libby’s furious spitting and calmly made her way to her room, only to realize her bags had been placed in Duncan’s room. Well of course. She closed the door softly, letting the latch catch so as not to give Libby the satisfaction of slamming it.
No amount of deep breaths could cool her anger or the knowledge that, damn it, Libby was right. And didn’t that gall her. Duncan deserved a beautiful, slender woman on his arm. Not a short, pudgy New Yorker who couldn’t, and didn’t want to, hold her tongue. He deserved much, much more than she had to offer. Than she was.
Her head banged against the door, and she closed her eyes. Oh, hell. What a mess.
Chapter Thirteen
In her not-so-humble opinion, tonight’s dinner party was a total success. François Reynard was charming, funny, and not after more money from Duncan, as Audrey had first assumed. No, he was simply a conservative businessman who wanted the best for his company. His underling, Théo, however, did look like the preverbal shark and was no doubt the push behind Reynard’s desire to break the deal.
But as she, Duncan, and François laughed over after-dinner drinks, Audrey was confident Théo’s influence was on the wane. He seemed more interested in the furniture than in any conversation that didn’t directly involve the partnership. She wondered how that could be so when clearly the man was a businessman and, she presumed, well versed in the fine art of small talking a potential partnership into fruition.
Apparently she presumed wrong.
Still, she had to admit, Théo had fantastic taste, and the dining room was beautiful. The glass chandelier sparkled above the long cherry table which glinted in the bright lights. Glancing up, Audrey wondered how they’d done the wiring without ruining the gorgeous antique woodwork surrounding it. Then again, Audrey thought as she studied it, even the thought of cleaning each delicate piece of hanging glass was enough to make her arms ache.
But she was perfectly happy to admire it.
The dining room was beautiful, seemingly plucked from another era yet somehow maintained a contemporary air. Along the far wall, a large painting of some Napoleonic War battle hung in prominence. She’d asked Duncan about it, but the battle meant nothing to her, and she’d promised herself she’d look it up online later. The dishes and silverware were several hundred years old—Georgian, she believed—but lovingly cared for.
They’d gone all out to impress François, but Audrey had quickly realized it wasn’t the fine china or the delicious meal that had worked. He was a charming man and she knew, modesty be damned, that she’d charmed him. It hadn’t hurt that she’d genuinely liked him.
And Duncan. Sure, working with him to secure his deal was nice, more than nice, but it felt right when his hand rested on the small of her back as he led her into the front parlor when their guests had arrived. Audrey had purposefully worn a sleek black dress with chunky red jewelry and shiny leather heels. She looked good and knew it.
The hungry look in Duncan’s eyes told her exactly what he wanted to do to her the instant they were alone. It kept her on edge all night, a delicious tip of the iceberg, where his every touch stoked her already ready body. She hadn’t expected them to work this well together.
Audrey didn’t know if she wanted to be glad she’d been wrong, or if she simply needed to embrace how right it felt to be with him like this.
She licked her lips and took another sip of her sweet dessert wine. François and Duncan were discussing the finer points of the partnership, and she supposed she should move away and talk with Théo, but Audrey had never really been one to do as she should do. And she felt comfortable here.
Duncan didn’t make her feel as if he no longer needed her; in fact, his hand continued to rest on the small of her back, the brush of his fingers through the material of her dress sending erotic sparks through her. It almost felt real—all too real.
Her stomach flipped, and she finished her wine in a single gulp as Duncan’s laugh washed over her like velvet brushes along her skin. He shook hands with François, and she took the opportunity to step away from his seductive touch and set her empty glass on the table with a sharp click.
Too real, all right. What was she thinking? That she could step into the shoes of Duncan’s hostess like it meant nothing? Audrey licked her lips and tried desperately not to think about Libby’s brutal words. It wasn’t the other woman’s tone or even the words themselves that bothered Audrey.
It was the fact that that damned bitch had been right.
Duncan needed a woman on his arm who could do this. One who matched him in every way, one who charmed his business associates and looked the part. She could do charm; Audrey prided herself on her witty conversation. And she knew she looked good, curves and all. She had style and fashion and knew how to put it all together.
But she didn’t match Duncan.
She walked away from him and pretended to study the painting. Audrey only saw a blur of colors, sharp oils, and subtle shading. After a moment, Théo stood and joined her, forcing Audrey to once again wonder why the other man wa
s here.
He said something about the artist, Meissonier, and shocked her with his observations about the painting. “It’s the Battle of Friedland, where Napoleon soundly defeated the Russian army under Count von Bennigsen, a German general.”
Audrey pushed all thoughts of her place in Duncan’s life, her flight back to New York in only four days, and her confused feelings for Duncan to the side and played hostess. She didn’t like Théo; he rubbed her the wrong way, but she could play the part.
Playing the part saved her from thinking too deeply on how very not confused her feelings for Duncan were—and from wondering how those feelings had grown so quickly.
Théo and François left shortly thereafter, and Audrey said goodbye at Duncan’s side. His hand once more rested on the small of her back, his thumb brushing the base of her spine. She suppressed a shiver of need and smiled at the men as they promised to meet Duncan in the morning to sign the paperwork.
He closed the door with a final click and turned with a smile. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said and brushed his lips over hers. “Everything was perfect. And your charm helped immensely. François was almost as taken with you as I am.”
She offered a small, faint smile, though his words warmed her. “Thank you,” she said and tried to keep her confusion out of her voice. “I’m glad it worked out for you. I was happy to be of help.”
“You were more than just help. So much more.” Duncan’s smile darkened his eyes, that hint of hunger she’d seen in him all night coming to the fore. Audrey licked her lips and did what all women did when they found themselves in an impossible relationship—she pulled back. Sharply.
“Duncan,” she said, her voice huskier than she’d have liked. Physically stepping from his touch, she looked up at him and met his gaze. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done. “I think I should stay at the hotel tonight. I’m going to head back to New York tomorrow; it’s time I went home.”
Countess Curvy: A Curvy Girl's Earl Page 10