by Robyn Donald
Eventually he released her, his hands sliding down her arms and supporting her until her knees stiffened enough for her to be able to step away.
‘That’s not fake,’ he said, his voice rough. ‘Admit it, Sable—you want me every bit as much as I want you.’
Sable turned away from him, her thoughts tumbling disconnectedly around her brain, shattered to realise that her predominant emotion was humiliating frustration.
Never—never—had she felt like this before. She’d been content to keep her distance from men, walk alone through life, sure that somehow she’d missed out on the necessary hormones to summon passion.
How wrong she’d been!
Thinly, fighting to articulate clearly and without emotion, she managed to say, ‘You might feel entitled to interfere in your cousin’s life, but you have absolutely no right to meddle in mine.’
‘Agreed,’ he said calmly. ‘But in this case your life and Brent’s are entwined. And as your response told me you’re telling the truth when you say you’re not in love with him, why did you move in with him?’
Furious, she jerked around. Which was a mistake. The relentless judgement of his gaze hollowed out her stomach in something too close to panic for her to be able to sort out her thoughts.
With a desperate attempt at control, she said, ‘I’ve already told you. When I had to leave my previous flat Brent offered me the use of his while he was away.’
Kain didn’t say anything.
She glanced up, a faint hope freezing when her eyes met his unreadable ones. With an abrupt gesture she said, ‘I’m still looking.’
‘I can probably help you find—’
‘No, thank you,’ she jerked out, grabbing at the remnants of her pride.
In a tone close to insolence, he said, ‘Cutting off your nose to spite your face is foolish. I’d thought better of you.’
A fresh spurt of humiliation drove her to blurt out, ‘Are you trying to buy me off?’
His mouth curved in a humourless smile. ‘No. If I were I’d be asking you to name your price.’
‘Really? Surely such crude arrogance wouldn’t fit in with your self-image?’ she suggested cuttingly.
Apparently genuinely amused, he laughed. ‘Actually, there are times when only crude arrogance will do the trick. So you don’t want to marry Brent?’
She said unevenly, ‘It hasn’t been discussed and I’d be very surprised to hear that Brent has any such plans.’
An evasive answer, Kain thought. She wasn’t yet sure enough of him to give up on Brent.
Perhaps he should just seduce her.
His body sprang into action, pumping more hot blood through his veins. He reined it in. That testing kiss had proved one thing; her unrestrained passion meant she certainly wasn’t in love with Brent.
But of course that didn’t mean she wasn’t planning to marry him.
And if that was what she wanted, unless someone intervened, she’d pull it off. According to his worried mother, Brent was besotted enough to offer marriage. Thirty thousand dollars worth of diamonds—definitely more than a casual gift—backed up Amanda’s fears.
Startled by the dark anger that thought summoned, he flicked another glance across at Sable. She had a rare gift for stillness, her pure, remote profile etched against the darkness. She looked, he thought with a cold, biting irony, poised for flight.
A pose? If so it was well-chosen; it showed off her high breasts and the slender line of her legs. She was stunning enough to turn any man’s head, let alone Brent’s. His aunt had been right to worry about her son’s relationship with Sable Jane Martin. Nothing Kain had learned about her made her in any way suitable for his cousin.
Kain ignored the uncomfortable stab of desire. He’d had other casual lusts and not consummated them; a transient hunger wasn’t important.
She could well be weighing up the monetary value of becoming his mistress as against being Brent’s wife. Neither promised security; both would lead to profit and, if she was planning to become an events organiser, to a lucrative list of possible clients.
Mind made up, he said casually, ‘I think it would certainly be a good idea for you to move out as soon as you can.’
He was agreeing with a decision she’d made before she’d even seen him. So why were her thoughts charging around her head, so that she felt both confused and oddly deflated? She turned her head and met his eyes, satirically watchful.
Did he ever lose that self-control? When he was making love, perhaps?
The intrusive, jagged edge of unease was banished by a slow curl of heat as her wayward mind summoned an image of him, bronzed and lean and powerful, bending towards her with a smile curving that beautiful mouth and his amazing ice-coloured eyes narrowed and intent…
Hands clenched at her sides, she consigned the image to the darkest reaches of her mind. She never had erotic fantasies—couldn’t even remember ever dreaming about a man.
She certainly wasn’t going to let Kain Gerard into her life. Even though he kissed like some sex god.
Especially because he kissed like some sex god.
Remember, she warned herself, what had happened afterwards: casually, almost unaffected, he’d stepped back from the heat and the fire and the torrid passion.
A sensible woman would run like hell.
Sable tried to assemble her thoughts into some rational pattern. Crisply she said, ‘And although Brent might be young and inexperienced, he doesn’t need a big cousin riding shotgun for him; he’ll fall in love plenty of times before he finds someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with.’
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Kain said evenly, his lashes falling to hide his thoughts. He gave her a half-mocking smile. ‘And as Brent doesn’t mean anything more to you than a friend, we can move on from there.’
And just what did he mean by that? ‘Move on?’ She tired hard not to sound suspicious, but sensed she hadn’t succeeded.
‘Actually, we have moved on,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I think that kiss was a definite advance, don’t you?’
Furious, she realised her cheeks were hot again, but she stiffened her spine. If she didn’t fight the reckless temptation to agree, this fierce attraction would lead to heartbreak.
Because Kain Gerard wasn’t offering her anything beyond the satisfaction of lust.
She didn’t need—or want—that.
Deliberately she said, ‘I have a couple of likely prospects, so it won’t be long before I leave the apartment.’
‘Good.’
Something more had to be said. With every ounce of resolution she could muster, she added, ‘But I’m not interested in an affair with you.’ She paused, then added with too much emphasis, ‘Not now, not ever.’
CHAPTER FOUR
KAIN looked speculatively at her for several seconds, then nodded, his expression giving nothing away. ‘If that’s what you really want.’
‘What I really want is to go ho—back,’ Sable corrected, because Brent’s apartment had never been home.
He must have realised she was at the end of her tether. ‘I’ll take you.’
‘No.’
But he did, even seeing her to the door. ‘Goodnight,’ he said with an ironic smile she resented, and watched her unlock the door with the personalised key Brent had given her.
He didn’t come in, for which she was profusely grateful. But once inside she noticed the pile of newspapers she’d left unread while she’d scanned the ads for flatmates.
Reluctantly she sorted through them, hesitating when she came to the one announcing pictures from the racing carnival. ‘Oh, stop being such a wuss,’ she said aloud, and spread it out on the table, giving a soft dismayed hiss as she saw the photograph of her and Kain.
It couldn’t have been more damning; the photographer had caught the moment of challenge between them, whenthey’d been staring at each other like two people in the first stages of blatant sexual infatuation.
No wonder Poppy had
been giving her speculative looks all week! Kain photographed superbly, those slashing cheekbones and lethal mouth, the narrowed eyes… Shivering, she remembered his kiss, and the slow, silky desire that had streamed through her at the touch of his tongue.
‘Just rememb ht look like a god, but he has all the instincts of a shark.’
Driven by anger and a humiliating sense of betrayal, she folded the newspapers and dumped them in the recycling bin. At least it was the weekend; she gave a wry smile. She had two whole days to hide out before she had to face more of Poppy’s unspoken curiosity!
Next morning she ate fruit and toast and drank one more than her usual cup of coffee before getting up and starting on the small amount of housework. The apartment was serviced, but she had clothes to wash. And once they were done she’d have to resume her search for another apartment to share.
Half an hour later she opened the Saturday paper and started the dreary process, only to be interrupted by the warble of her cell phone. Frowning, she answered it.
‘I’ve just had a call from the Browns,’ her boss, Mark Russell, said without preliminaries, his tone warning her she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
Sable frowned, her stomach hollowing. The Browns were the couple who’d lent their showpiece mansion for the auction and showings. ‘And?’
‘They’ve had bad news and can’t let us have the auction at their place.’
Horrified, she took in a deep breath. Don’t show terror, she reminded herself. In her calmest voice she said, ‘I’m so sorry about that. What—’
‘But they’ve suggested another venue—even better!’
Hugely relieved in spite of the massive amount of work this would entail—and only a week to do it in!—Sable let out a silent huff of breath. ‘Whose? And where is it?’
‘Kain Gerard has offered us his place at Mahurangi.’ Her boss’s voice oozed satisfaction. ‘It couldn’t be more perfect.’
She froze, wondering wildly how this had happened. ‘Mahurangi is an hour’s drive north of here,’ she objected without thinking. ‘Will people want to go that far?’
‘Oh, yes, especially as it means seeing one of the finest Gothic Revival houses still standing in New Zealand—if not the finest. Totara Bay homestead is magnificent. And then there’s the cachet of the Gerard name. Very exclusive.’ He rolled the last two words around his mouth like the first sip of a fine wine.
Controlling her dismay, Sable set her mind to work. Delivering the goods was the benchmark of success in the events business. Mark’s comment had sounded snobbish, but she knew what he meant. The success of the auction relied on pulling in as many of the country’s rich as they could—both nouveau and Old Money.
Kain Gerard moved in very grand circles on the world stage, and for one night competitive, status-seeking people could feel they belonged in them. They already had almost a hundred and fifty people registered for the auction—once this news got out there would be more.
Infusing her voice with enthusiasm, she said, ‘Yes, of course. Because it’s an invited audience, we can use buses to pick people up from their homes and deliver them back.’ She grabbed a pen and started to scribble notes. ‘The Fleet line have about half a dozen luxury coaches—I’ll get them if I have to beg on my knees for them. All right, leave it to me.’
‘Kain has given me a contact number.’ He read it out carefully. ‘I realise this is going to take a lot of time to organise, so take as much time off as you need to get it done. And I’ll contact the insurance agents and the security firm for you.’
Five minutes later she put the cell phone down and sat staring into space. It took the summons of the apartment telephone to get her moving again. ‘Hello,’ she said without identifying herself.
Kain Gerard said on an amused note, ‘I hope I didn’t wake you.’
‘No.’ She’d known it would be him.
‘I assume you’ve heard from Russell.’
‘Yes.’
‘I thought we could drive up to the house so you could inspect it.’
Sable most emphatically did not want to go there with him, but she had no choice. She said politely, ‘Thank you, that would be great if you can spare the time.’
‘When?’
‘This morning?’
‘Of course. I’ll pick you up in half an hour.’
‘Just one thing—is the lawn at Totara Bay big enough to hold a marquee that will take a couple of hundred people?’
‘Yes,’ he said, his laconic tone stopping a note away from another of course.
‘Right, I’ll be ready.’
She cast a harried glance at the newspaper as she hung up. So much for untangling herself from Brent; tomorrow she’d ring around the rest of the suitable ads, she promised herself, knowing that by the next morning the best places would be gone.
In the meantime pride insisted she do something about the shadows beneath her eyes. It took a heavy application of concealing stick to hide the evidence of her restless night, but by the time Kain Gerard drove into the parking area she was ready for him, walking towards his car before he had a chance to get out.
Stomach knotting, she got into the front seat, gave him her coolest, personal-assistant smile, and said pleasantly, ‘This is extremely kind of you.’
He set the car in motion again, lean hands confident on the wheel as he manoeuvred it out of the parking area. ‘Anything for a good cause,’ he said on a sardonic inflection.
She didn’t speak while they drove through the busy morning city; although the tension inside her tightened her nerves unbearably, she much preferred that to conversation that seemed more like a fencing bout than an exchange of views.
But when they’d left the harbour bridge behind and were purring along the motorway he told her, ‘I’ll be overseas for a couple of days during the week, so you’ll liaise with my housekeeper. Do you have a car?’
‘No,’ she admitted reluctantly.
He shrugged. ‘I’d have thought one was necessary for this sort of thing.’
‘It’s only a sideline so far,’ she explained without expression, ‘and previously I’ve always worked in Auckland.’ Where there were plenty of buses, and taxis for late at night.
‘Mark Russell says you have a definite knack for it.’ He sounded amused, as though events management was a nice little hobby.
She refused to bristle. ‘I hope so. This will be a real test for me.’
‘I’m sure you’ll deal admirably with it,’ he said suavely.
The kiss that had haunted her dreams was a weight on her mind—alluring, forbidden, summoning a fierce response that still simmered through her body. The memory lay like a challenge between them, so that she even wondered if Kain had somehow engineered this latest development.
And dismissed the idea. Mark had mentioned that the Browns, a nice couple, had had some bad news. Sometimes coincidences just seemed to set themselves up with deliberate malice.
She kept her gaze fixed ahead, watching the asphalt unravel in front of them as they passed from the city into the countryside, green and verdant, and then quickly came out onto the coast.
Silence stretched uncomfortably between them, a silence she refused to break. Kain would win any contest of wills because he held all the power, but she could at least give him a run for it.
A little later they turned off the highway and began a winding journey down a peninsula. Glimpses of the sea and a mangrove-fringed estuary began to appear between the hills, and finally, after five minutes’ descent through a thick pall of native forest, they emerged into sunlight that made her blink.
The sign on the open gates said simply Totara Bay. The drive led through superb grounds, and as they came through the garden her question about the size of the lawn came back to haunt her. No wonder he’d sounded amused! Backed by trees, the lawns seemed to go on for infinity bathed in a shimmering brilliance of light. Close by—probably hidden by the thick screen of huge pohutukawa trees—was a beach.
Her breath caught in her throat as the house came into view. Big, serenely gracious, it was a picture-book homestead painted white with a grey roof. To her horror and alarm, Sable’s eyes filled with strange, lost tears, so that she had to blink furiously and furtively as they approached the front door.
She felt a deep connection, as though she’d come home. Emotions she’d thought long conquered stirred deep inside her—the childish yearning for security, for beauty that lasted, for stability and peace—everything she’d envied, longed for, when she was growing up.
All here, in this house, owned by this man who threatened her hard-won composure, her very view of herself.
Terrified at the thought of revealing just how much it affected her, Sable asked, ‘How old is this beautiful building?’
‘About a hundred and twenty years. My great-great-great-grandfather settled here almost a hundred and fifty years ago.’ He stopped the car on the gravel in front of the big entrance. ‘I grew up here.’
Old Money. No, make that Very Old Money. She knew about Very Old Money; the memory still stung of the woman who’d descended on the school when she’d been about eight and demanded without lowering her voice that her child be removed from sitting beside Sable.
She’d known why. The daughter of the town drunk had no place beside a child with an Old Money background. And this superbly maintained house emphasised as nothing else could the distance between her and Kain, even in egalitarian New Zealand.
She could feel Kain’s glance on her averted face, sharp and far too perceptive. Stonily she said, ‘What a perfect setting for the auction.’ She dragged her eyes from the superb façade. ‘I assume there’ll be plenty of parking for the buses.’
‘Buses?’
She managed a rather patronising smile. ‘Don’t worry—we won’t be bussing in thousands of people. As you know this is an invitation-only occasion, and at the most there will be half a dozen vehicles—no more.’ For some reason she asked, ‘Have you decided yet whether you’re going to attend?’
He gave her a narrow glance. ‘Of course. This is my home.’
His words neatly nailed the yawning gap between them. He got out, his long legs taking him swiftly around to open the door for her. Clutching her briefcase, Sable went with him around the side of the house to a wide gravel parking area.