by Miranda Lee
‘No. He’s not even an ex-bikie. But he does like motorcycles. And he is an ex-cop.’
‘And he’s your head of security?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, he already knows everything about me.’
‘Everything that’s on public record. Yes. But he doesn’t know this about you,’ she murmured, and replaced her hands with her mouth.
Cleo didn’t want to talk about Harvey. Frankly, she didn’t want to talk at all, having vowed to concentrate on sex from now on and not on other potentially distressing emotions. Which, in her opinion, should suit Byron. After all, he didn’t want for ever. She was just a fling, a diversion, until a suitable bride came along.
Byron saw the distress in her eyes, and didn’t know whether he was the cause. But she could be frustratingly distant at times, as if she was deliberately keeping her feelings hidden from him. Her eyes, however, often revealed things that gave him hope. He was sure he’d glimpsed real emotion there when he was inside her, face to face. He loved seeing that. He didn’t love it when she focused on his body as if he were just a piece of meat. Yes, he enjoyed it when she went down on him. Hell, how could he not? She was very good at it. Nevertheless, the thought pained him where she’d learned her techniques. It seemed crazy to be jealous of a dead man. But he was. Clearly, he’d been wrong when he’d imagined their marriage hadn’t been all that perfect. It must have been pretty good in the bedroom, at least.
How she’d gone so long without was a mystery. Unless you accepted the unpalatable truth that her grief over her husband’s death was so great that she simply hadn’t been able to bear being with another man for years and years.
Byron didn’t want to accept that reality, but it seemed illogical to keep denying the facts that were staring him in the face. She was staring him in the face, her eyes offended and unhappy.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said, cupping her cheeks with gentle hands and stroking her soft skin with his thumb-pads.
When her eyes filled with tears Byron was appalled at himself.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. He could no longer deny his feelings for this woman. He was definitely falling in love with her.
‘No, no, please don’t cry,’ he groaned, rubbing the tears away with his hands. ‘I’ll start crying if you keep crying.’
That startled her into stopping. ‘You, Byron?’
‘Yes, me. I can be a real cry-baby. I cried for days when my parents divorced.’
‘Did you cry when you broke up with your fiancée recently?’
Good Lord, why did she bring that up? ‘Not for a second,’ he said with a wry laugh. ‘My only emotion at that time was relief. And some lingering anger over what a fool I’d been to be taken in by an obvious gold-digger for a second time in a row.’
She sighed. ‘They both probably told you that they loved you.’
‘All the time.’
‘But their actions spoke louder than words.’
‘Spot on.’
Her smile carried a strange sadness. ‘I promise I won’t tell you that I love you.’
Byron’s gut squeezed tight for a telling moment, but he kept a nonchalant expression. ‘Feel free. I won’t mind. Like I said, I’m a romantic.’
She stared at him long and hard, then shrugged. ‘Now that would be silly of me, don’t you think? You have enough power over me without admitting such a thing.’
Byron’s breath caught in his throat. Did she realise what she’d just said? It made his hopes soar and his heart do a tango.
‘And what power do I have over you, my darling?’ he crooned as he pulled her down on top of him.
Her sigh carried the most delicious sound of surrender. ‘You make me do things which I know are unwise,’ she said, and buried her face into the base of his throat.
‘Like what?’
‘Like this...’
Byron groaned when she opened her lips against his skin and began to suck.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MONDAY MORNING FOUND Cleo in a dilemma over what she was going to wear to work. She hadn’t fully tackled her working wardrobe last Friday, concentrating on the outfit she was to wear on the Saturday night, plus some stylish casual clothes. Grace had talked her into buying one outrageously expensive pant suit suitable for any occasion, but it was white!
No. She wasn’t going to wear white to work. But she really had to go out and buy some new work clothes. Today.
Very reluctantly, Cleo drew on her grey pant suit, teaming it with her one of her crisp white shirts. Only her shoes were new. Italian, and still black, but with a high heel. Despite the heels, however, they were wonderfully comfortable and cripplingly expensive. Cleo slipped her feet into them, noticing immediately the difference they made. She stood taller, with more style. Her walk became sexier. Once she made up her face and left her hair down, she didn’t look half bad. Spraying herself with perfume, she entered the kitchen with a sauciness in her step, Doreen raising her eyebrows at her appearance.
‘Is that suit new?’ she asked.
‘No,’ Cleo returned brightly, and bent to stroke a waiting Mungo. ‘But the woman wearing it is.’
She’d woken this morning still experiencing some anxiety over her relationship with Byron, but eventually deciding not to worry about something she had no control over.
Just enjoy yourself while it lasts, girl, was her new mantra.
‘I have to admit I was wrong about that man,’ Doreen said. ‘He’s been very good for you.’
‘And I know another man who’s been very good for you,’ Cleo countered. ‘And I don’t mean Mungo here. Even if he is a dear.’ She stroked his big ugly head some more.
When Doreen blushed, Cleo knew she wasn’t the only one in this kitchen with her emotions in turmoil.
Cleo left for work in an optimistic frame of mind. Life, she decided as she strode down her street towards the railway station, was, indeed, wonderful. She didn’t bury her head in the morning paper during the ride into town, as she usually did. Instead, she people watched, wondering if they felt as happy as she did that morning.
‘Looking good, boss,’ Leanne chirped when Cleo walked through Reception.
‘You too, Leanne,’ she returned warmly, after a moment’s hesitation. She wasn’t used to being complimented on her appearance. But it made her doubly determined to do some more clothes shopping at lunchtime. She now knew what shops to go to, thanks to Grace.
I really should ring and thank her personally, Cleo thought as she sat down and opened her laptop. Before I start checking emails. And taking phone calls from harassed managers, all panicking because Scott was still away.
Without hesitating this time, she picked up her phone and brought up Grace’s number, pressing call immediately.
‘Hi there, Cleo,’ Grace answered in that super-cool, composed manner of hers. Cleo couldn’t imagine anything ever fazing Grace. She was the ultimate PA, and the nicest, kindest lady.
‘I’m very well, thank you,’ Cleo said. ‘Which is why I’m ringing. To thank you for all your help, and your advice.’
‘I take it you were a big hit on Saturday night?’
‘I think I passed muster with his mother.’ At least, she hoped so. She also hoped the woman hadn’t noticed they’d left early. It suddenly occurred to her to ask Byron if he’d been in contact with his mother since the party. He hadn’t said anything last night and she hadn’t thought to ask. Her mind had been on other things.
‘And what about with Byron? Did he like the way you looked?’ Grace laughed. ‘Silly question. He’d have been drooling.’
‘He did seem pleased.’ If ever there was an understatement that was it. ‘Is he in yet?’
‘No, actually, he isn’t. But that’s not surprising. Byron is not a Monday morning person. He’ll be in shortly, I dare say. By the way, I was reading the financial section of the paper over breakfast and the iron ore prices have gone up. Coal, too. And gold, of course.’
Yipes! Cleo
bit her bottom lip. She was the one who should have been doing that, instead of sitting there on the train with her head in the clouds. She hadn’t even bought a paper this morning, which had been very slack of her. Scott had trusted her to keep her finger on the pulse and she’d been off in dreamland, having makeovers and inappropriate affairs. They did say you shouldn’t mix business with pleasure—this was clearly why.
‘Yes, I did notice that,’ she lied. ‘Byron might have missed the boat,’ she added, covering her tracks well. ‘Scott might not need a new partner after all. Oops, I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t tell Byron I said that. Please, Grace.’
‘My lips are sealed. And, Cleo...’
‘Yes?’
‘I know it’s none of my business, but did Byron ask you out again after Saturday night?’
‘We had dinner together last night,’ she admitted cagily.
‘That’s great. You’ve no idea how pleased I am that you and Byron have hit it off. He really needs to be with someone decent like you after those two fortune hunters he was involved with.’
‘I still can’t believe he’s attracted to me.’ Even before her makeover, if Byron was to be believed.
‘I can.’
‘Then explain it to me.’
‘I just did. You’re the genuine article, Cleo. Not a fake. And you were always extremely attractive, even in that ghastly black suit and those truly awful shoes. I hope you’re wearing your new shoes today.’
‘I certainly am. With what they cost, I plan to wear them every single day!’
‘Good shoes are an investment. So is a good white pant suit. But I’ll bet you’re not wearing it today, are you?’
‘No. I was too afraid to. It might get dirty.’
‘That’s what dry-cleaning is for, Cleo.’
‘I know, Grace. I know. But even Rome wasn’t built in a day.’
‘You have thrown out that awful black suit and shoes, haven’t you?’
Cleo grimaced. ‘They’re already in the charity shop bag.’
‘Good. Now I must go. Byron is headed my way. Bye.’
* * *
Byron wasn’t in a good mood. He hated that what he wanted remained just beyond his reach. Hated that the woman he was pursuing was being determinedly distant. Their final lovemaking session last night had reinforced his fear that her only priority where he was concerned was sex, sex, and more sex. As much as that had its exciting aspects, it was no longer satisfying his male ego. Why hadn’t she fallen in love with him, damn it? Almost every other woman did.
‘Morning, Grace,’ he grumped as he strode past.
‘Good morning, Byron,’ came her perfectly polite reply, yet delivered with a faint smirk on her lips and a knowing glint in her eye.
He spun around and ground to a halt just beyond her desk, spearing her with narrowed eyes.
‘Okay. Spit it out, Grace, so that I can get on with my day without worrying about what you know that I don’t.’
Now her face was all blank innocence. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
His lips pressed together in frustration.
‘I used to like women, but I’m beginning to think they were put on this earth to make us men miserable.’
‘Are you referring to any one woman in particular? Or women in general?’
Byron laughed. ‘You don’t get to trap me that easily, Grace. You just do your job and mind your own damned business.’
His fury and his frustration bubbling over, he whirled and marched into his office. Five minutes later, he was calling Grace in.
‘I apologise,’ he said, shamed by his earlier rudeness.
‘Apology accepted,’ Grace replied without a shred of resentment in her voice.
‘That’s what I like about you, Grace. Nothing I do offends you.’
‘That’s because you’re my boss. Now, if my husband spoke to me like that, I’d eat him alive. But don’t push it. Even I have my limits. Now I suggest you ring Cleo before you explode.’
Byron’s mouth dropped open ‘How did you...?’
‘Just ring her,’ Grace said firmly, then left him to it.
Shrugging, Byron reached for his phone.
* * *
‘But I can’t go out to dinner with you again tonight,’ Cleo told Byron.
She’d been perusing the financial pages of the morning paper when he rang, his invitation coming hot on the heels of his hello.
‘Doreen goes to trivia down at the local on a Monday night,’ she explained, ‘and I’m certainly not going to ask her to give it up. I can’t expect her to do all the work looking after Mungo. It’s not right.’
Cleo held her breath when there was dead silence on the line.
‘I see,’ he said at last. ‘Would you have any objections to me coming over and minding Mungo with you, then?’
Cleo had to stop herself from agreeing straight away but she couldn’t help being secretly thrilled. Oh, dear... She was getting in deeper and deeper, wasn’t she? As much as she’d vowed to enjoy their affair for what it was, she simply couldn’t just go along with everything he wanted, could she? She’d resolved early on not to become a yes girl. And she meant to keep to that resolve. Give a man like Byron an inch and he would take a mile!
‘That would be nice,’ she said. ‘But no sex, Byron,’ she added firmly. Every time they made love, her feelings for him escalated. She was the one who hadn’t been able to control herself last night. At times, she’d wanted to eat him alive, to drink him in and draw him into her very soul.
‘It won’t be me who breaks that rule, madam,’ Byron said with a rueful laugh in his voice. ‘Who was it who couldn’t stop last night? Frankly, I don’t think I could get it up today if I tried.’
‘Oh,’ she said, hating her dismay.
‘Only kidding. I’m sitting here right now with a rod of iron, just waiting for you. We’ll make out on the sofa and Mungo can close his eyes.’
‘Cleo?’ he said, when she said nothing. She couldn’t. She was fully occupied, thinking about his rod of iron.
‘Yes?’ she squeaked.
‘What time tonight do you want me there?’
‘I... I can’t think...’
‘I like the sound of that,’ he murmured in a far too seductive voice. ‘Want to try some phone sex?’
She was tempted. Oh, how she was tempted. Which annoyed her.
‘For pity’s sake, Byron, have some decorum. I’m in charge here. I have work to do. And speaking of work, do you think you might tell me soon if you’re still interested in investing in McAllister Mines? Scott is sure to ring me today for an update on that,’ she lied, desperate to know if he’d seen the price rises in minerals or not.
A weary-sounding sigh wafted down the line. ‘I haven’t made up my mind on that, yet.’
‘I see. Well, when can I expect a decision?’
‘Soon,’ he said, not very helpfully.
‘How soon is soon?’
‘Maybe in another couple of weeks. I need to do a little more research on the subject. And I would like to talk to Scott personally. When did you say he was getting back?’
‘Er... I’m not quite sure.’
‘Then ask him when he rings today.’
Cleo rolled her eyes. Trust her to get caught out in her lie.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Now I really must go.’
‘What time do you want me at your place tonight?’ he asked before she could escape.
‘What? Oh, yes. Tonight. How about seven-thirty?’
‘Are you going to feed me, or do you want me to bring something?’
‘I suppose I’ll feed you. If you promise to be a good boy.’
‘Oh, I’ll be good,’ he said smugly. ‘Very, very good.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AND THAT WAS how the working week continued, with Cleo doing her best to stop Byron from having his wicked way with her at some stage every day, but failing dismally.
When she begged off havi
ng dinner with him on Tuesday, he showed up in her office at lunchtime and swept her into Scott’s inner sanctum, where he locked the door and proceeded to make her act with an appalling lack of respect for her boss’s desk.
On Wednesday evening, he helped her mind Mungo again whilst Doreen went out with Harvey to the movies. They started to watch a movie themselves on the TV but ended up—as they had on the Monday evening—making out on the sofa. Mungo by then tolerated Byron without barking, but he still wasn’t keen on him. The dog adored Harvey, however, which was just as well, since Harvey made any and every excuse to visit.
Thursday, Byron took Cleo food shopping at the local supermarket whilst Doreen put on a baked lamb dinner, supervised by a salivating Mungo, and the ever-attentive Harvey who’d brought two bottles of superb red wine for them all to drink. By eight-thirty, the four of them were seated at the small square dining table, with their wine glasses in hand and smiles all around.
Cleo’s smile, however, was false, her pragmatic and positive mood earlier in the week now spoiled by the nagging worry about where this would all end. Not for Harvey and Doreen. She could see they were headed for the altar. She and Byron were a different story altogether. Yes, he was enjoying playing at being a regular couple. But it was just playing. She was sure of it. Once he grew bored with the game, he would move on. He also wouldn’t end up becoming a partner of McAllister Mines, despite the resurgence in mineral prices. When she’d told him Scott wouldn’t be back for another two weeks—she’d had to fabricate a return date—he hadn’t seemed overly concerned. Neither had he wanted to discuss the business with her. You didn’t have to be a genius to work out why. His priority wasn’t business with her. It was pleasure.
Cleo could not deny that it was very pleasurable, being with him. He was a witty and charming companion as well as a fantastic lover. He wasn’t nearly as arrogant as she’d first imagined, but he could still be quite domineering, and insistent on getting his own way. Given how she felt about him, Cleo worried that she would give in too often, and, after finally blossoming with her new independence and self-confidence, she couldn’t bear to go back to the way she used to be. She managed to enforce her own wishes occasionally, but underneath she knew he was way out of her league. Even with her revamped appearance, Cleo knew nothing could make her believe he would ever think of her as a suitable partner for life.