by Robyn Donald
‘No.’ But his voice was uncompromising. ‘If you can’t take the heat, stay out of the kitchen. Obviously you saw Brent as an easy mark; he might be, but he has family who care for his welfare and won’t stand by to see him stripped of his self-respect and the money he’s worked so hard to earn.’
White-lipped, she said, ‘I have no intention of taking him for any money.’
‘Give it away,’ he snarled. ‘I’m not an idiot, Sable. I thought you had enough intelligence to understand that I don’t do things without reason. You’ve already got thirty thousand dollars from Brent—’
‘What?’ She couldn’t believe she was hearing this. ‘You’re mad,’ she said with seething intensity. ‘Quite, quite mad.’
‘Are you saying he didn’t buy you a diamond ring?’
Stunned, her mind whirling uselessly, she stared at him, her gaze held by the uncompromising authority of his. ‘That’s ridiculous,’ she said numbly. ‘Of course he didn’t.’
Once more he employed that raised black brow to excoriating effect as he drawled, ‘Try again.’
‘Brent hasn’t bought me anything,’ she stated with passion. ‘Nothing at all.’
He looked at her with sheer disgust. ‘I suppose you’ll be telling me next he didn’t lend you money when you were kicked out of your flat?’
CHAPTER NINE
SABLE said flatly, ‘No. And if he had, I’d be paying him back.’
‘Not any longer.’ Kain’s voice was even colder. ‘You’re with me now, remember?’
She stared at him, then suddenly caught the implication. White-lipped, she snapped, ‘You’re totally disgusting. He isn’t—wasn’t—paying me to sleep with him. Brent is a gentleman.’
‘In your lexicon that no doubt equates with being a sucker,’ Kain said caustically. ‘I am not a gentleman and I don’t care what arrangement you had with Brent; if it wasn’t sex for money I’ll recompense him. Why were you thrown out of your flat?’
Sick at heart, she said, ‘I’m surprised you don’t know.’
‘Tell me.’
She shrugged. ‘My flatmate held a party that ended up in a minor riot—basically the flat was wrecked. My name was on the lease agreement, so I was responsible.’
‘So you went weeping to Brent—’
His contemptuous tone savagely flicked a nerve. ‘I did not.’
But in a moment of weakness she had told Brent about it and then accepted his offer of shelter. Her chin came up.
‘Any arrangement is between Brent and me. It’s none of your business.’
‘You should have realised by now that it is. You’re not part of Brent’s life any more. How much do you owe him?’
Seething with a bitter, hopeless defiance, she held his gaze. ‘Nothing.’
His expression hardened. ‘How much?’
And when she kept her lips clamped shut he said on a silky note that was more effective than any harsh sneer, ‘I’ll find out, Sable.’
Driven into a corner she said dully, ‘I don’t owe him anything. He stood guarantor for a small bank loan, which I’m paying off. To the bank, not to Brent.’ She added with a spurt of anger, ‘Brent is too much of a man to accept money from you, anyway.’
‘But you don’t really see him as a man, simply as a pigeon to be plucked. Why don’t you sell the diamond ring and pay him back?’
‘There is no ring,’ she snarled, goaded beyond endurance. She stared up into his face, her eyes blazing dark fire, two spots of fire burning her cheeks. ‘He never gave me a ring. I would not have accepted it from him.’ She drew a ragged breath and hurled her last words at him like stones. ‘You can think what you like of me, but why do you despise your cousin so much?’
His mouth hardened into a thin straight line. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Are you so certain of your own infallibility that you have a completely closed mind about him too? I could—I’d like—’ Horrified, she stopped before her words degenerated into incoherence.
She was standing too close to him, and, although she was so angry she could barely articulate each intemperate word, his nearness was working some forbidden enchantment at a cellular level, weakening her so that all she could think of was a flashback to the fevered moments in his bed the previous night.
‘You could do what?’ he asked, a raw undernote to the words subtly defusing her anger.
How could he think of—whatever he was thinking—when she’d been so furious her brain seemed to have exploded?
His smile was dangerous, his eyes narrow and intent, and she could see the hot glitter of desire beneath his long lashes. Temptation overwhelmed anger, urging her on, demanding the easiest, most pleasurable soothing of the taut hunger that gripped her.
She should get the hell out of here before she did something else she’d despise herself for.
‘Try me,’ he said, that smile curling his beautiful mouth. ‘Just try me, Sable.’
Quietly, each word sharp-edged as an ice crystal, she said, ‘I’ve already tried you, remember? Last night. Once is enough.’
Too late she realised she’d flung down a direct challenge. Kain froze, every muscle in the big lean body tightening into a predatory alertness, and his eyes darkened. Danger crackled like lightning between them.
What have you done? Sable’s flash of elemental anticipation turned into something perilously close to panic until she saw him reimpose control.
He stepped back and said with iron-hard dominance, ‘I could make you eat those words.’
It was an uncompromising, decisive statement of fact. Sable hated him for it, but she couldn’t call him a liar. One touch, one searing kiss, and incandescent passion would sweep them both into something that—for her at least—would lead to utter shame.
It took all her willpower to leash her emotions and the overdose of adrenaline pumping through her. ‘This is ridiculous.’ Her voice sounded creaky and she had to swallow before she could get the next words out. ‘You make me so angry—but that was unforgivable.’
He shrugged and turned away. ‘Get ready to leave. What do you want done with that shirt?’
‘I’ll wash it out before we go,’ she said thinly, glad of the abrupt change of subject.
Surprisingly, most of poor Corky’s blood washed away, but she knew she’d never wear the shirt again. She stowed the wet garment in the waterproof pocket in her backpack.
They drove back toAuckland in near-silence. Every nerve taut, Sable stared out through the front window, so aware of Kain she thought she could feel his aura against her skin.
Back at the apartment he showed her to a bedroom and told her unemotionally that he’d organise dinner for them in the restaurant. ‘Give me the shirt,’ he said.
‘Why?’
He said aloofly, ‘I’ll get the concierge to deal with it.’
‘I can—’
‘Sable,’ he said in a voice that sent shivers scudding the length of her spine, ‘just for once, do what I suggest, all right?’
Without speaking she took out the shirt and handed it over, then waited until the door closed behind him before sitting limply down on the side of the bed.
‘Dear God,’ she whispered. She felt as though she’d been standing on the edge of a precipice.
She’d known Kain for such a short time, yet he’d battered down her defences so that not only had he taken her to heaven and back in his arms, but he’d made her so angry she’d really wanted to hurt him.
A lifetime of controlling herself had rushed down the drain the moment she’d met him; she literally didn’t know this woman who could spit fire and ice and vicious comments, and make love with every bit as much ferocity.
And sitting shaking on the edge of a bed wasn’t going to get her ready for that sensible dinner where they’d be surrounded by people.
‘Shower,’ she told the alien woman inside her firmly and got to her feet.
She felt more like herself after a deluge of cold wat
er and was bolstered further by the ritual of applying cosmetics and choosing a dress—a simple black thing, high-necked and long-sleeved. With it she wore black stockings and a pair of high-heeled black shoes.
But her heart thumped loudly when she walked along to the sitting room.
Kain was looking at some papers; he put them down when she came in and gave her a long assessing look. His expression told her that he understood why she’d worn the demure dress.
‘Very appropriate,’ he said, a note of cynicism hardening his tone. ‘Full mourning.’ And waited for a stretched moment before adding, ‘With covert sexual overtones.’
Flushing, she lifted her chin a fraction of an inch. ‘It has not,’ she told him evenly.
‘So why do I feel that I’d like to strip every last little bit of black from you—and slowly kiss every inch of the skin I reveal?’ His voice was deep and sure, but beneath the sardonic words she caught that raw note that meant he was aroused.
‘Because you’re insatiable?’ she queried with cutting, scornful emphasis.
He shrugged and glanced at his watch. ‘Before we get carried away again by this war we’re waging, we’d better eat.’
Obscurely disappointed, she went down with him in the private lift and into the restaurant.
Oddly—in view of the heightened emotions she’d endured in the past few hours—Sable found she was hungry. And Kain set himself to charm. Even when she disagreed with him, which she did several times, he treated her opinions with respect.
Back in the penthouse he rang his farm manager, who told him that Corky didn’t seem to be too badly hurt. His brother was also improving, his condition not as serious as had first been feared.
Although the next week was frantically busy, Sable found time to visit the two patients in hospital, surprised to discover from an ebullient Corky that Kain also had visited. Not only that, he’d presented both boys with the very latest in video games. His brother had been cleared and would soon join him in the general ward.
Apart from that, she drove herself and the willing Poppy hard, dealing with the inevitable problems of changing the venue for the art auction.
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you,’ Poppy accused on the Friday afternoon as Sable finished a telephone call to the caterer.
‘I suppose I am, even though the wretched bus company has suddenly realised they haven’t got enough luxury buses for tomorrow night, but what about a double-decker totake up the slack?’ Sable got to her feet and stretched luxuriously. ‘Just imagine a double-decker making its way down that road! But there are always glitches.’
‘And you get a kick out of fixing things.’
Surprised at the younger woman’s perception, Sable said slowly, ‘I suppose I do.’
Poppy grinned, then whirled when a voice from the doorway said, ‘Time you went home, both of you.’
Heart pumping frantically, Sable watched her assistant’s eyes widen when Kain strolled in, all sophisticated elegance in a dark, magnificently tailored business suit. She didn’t blame the girl; she too was suddenly alert and excited, blood thrumming hotly through her.
God, she thought, panic-stricken, I want him so much! And he hadn’t touched her once in that long week.
Kain smiled at the younger girl. ‘Hello, Poppy. I believe you’re doing exceedingly well here.’
Flushed, almost stammering, Poppy said eagerly, ‘I’m loving it. Sable and I have lots of laughs, and I’ve never worked with someone who deals with things so efficiently before.’
‘Ah, Sable is super-competent,’ Kain said smoothly, his expression giving nothing away.
Sable sent him a cool glance. ‘Thank you both for the vote of confidence, but at the moment I could do with less exercise of my creative talents. If one more person rings and says that they can’t do what they promised I’m going to rush away and sob noisily and at great length in the cloakroom.’
Poppy gave a giggle and Kain’s brows lifted. ‘I’d better take you home and feed you,’ he said.
Aware of Poppy’s avid interest, Sable said crisply, ‘I’ve got about half an hour’s work to do here before I can leave.’
‘Is the roof going to fall in if you don’t do it tonight?’
Sable gave him a sharp look. What was this—a power trip? He met her eyes with bland assurance underpinned by a steely authority.
‘No, it won’t,’ Poppy startled her by saying in a rush. ‘Dad always says that the last decision you make in the day is usually overturned the next morning. I don’t even think you’ve had lunch, have you, Sable?’
‘I can’t remember,’ Sable said shortly, adding, ‘But your father—and Kain—’ she sent him a glittering smile ‘—are probably right.’ The smile softened when she turned it back to Poppy. ‘Go on, off you go, too. You’ve worked hard all day, and tomorrow is going to be just frantic. I’ll see you first thing in the morning at the homestead.’
Poppy fluttered her lashes at Kain. ‘I’m so looking forward to everything,’ she cooed. ‘I bet it’s going to be a huge success!’
It was. Drawn by the lure of visiting one of the most gracious houses in the country—the home of a very powerful man—more than fifty extra people had registered for the occasion, including several glamorous stars now domiciled overseas, one international racing driver, and a famous—and famously acerbic—yachtsman. The men were resplendent in evening clothes and the women had donned not only their best cocktail dresses but their most serious jewels.
The air of excitement, of eagerness, was palpable, as potent as the scent of the gardenias flowering in the garden outside. After drinking excellent cocktails and snacking on superbly prepared seafood caught that day, the guests were in the mood to play. It helped that two of them had just cashed up businesses, and as their tastes—or their art advisors’ suggestions—coincided, they conducted a bidding war that sent the Foundation coffers soaring.
‘The best auction we’ve ever had,’ Mark Russell gloated, pumping Kain’s hand. ‘Thanks to you, Kain. You saved our hides. It couldn’t have been held in a more lovely, evocative place!’
‘Or run by a more efficient events planner,’ Kain said smoothly.
Mark looked astonished for a second, then recovered. ‘Indeed,’ he said, relinquishing Kain’s hand to embrace a startled Sable and drop a kiss on her cheek. ‘Well done, Sable. Not that I doubted you could pull it off—she’s the best PA I’ve ever had,’ he informed a suddenly flint-faced Kain.
‘I had help,’ Sable said quickly. She smiled at Poppy. ‘Very good help.’
Mark looked at his flushing daughter and said in a different voice, ‘Yes, I must say I’ve been impressed. Now, I’d better say thank you to some of these good folks. Kain, I gather your security firm has the pictures safely behind lock and key until we can get them to the new owners?’
‘They’re already on their way to a vault,’ Kain said austerely.
Sable felt her spine stiffen as the photographer came up. She forced herself to relax. Although she didn’t want to appear on the social pages again it would be good publicity, and Maire had lent her a dress that was both ultra-sophisticated and skilfully discreet.
She was on a high, elated that the whole glamorous evening had come together just as she’d imagined it. There was even a full moon, magnificent over the estuary and the islands, lending the garden its particular enchantment. Nobody wanted to go home; after Mark had announced to enthusiastic acclamation the amazing amount the auction had earned, champagne had been served, and now people were sipping and chatting, caught up in the magic of the occasion.
And through it all, Kain had been there for her, enormously sexy in the black and white of formal evening wear, his effortless charm and authority like a seal of approval for the occasion.
She cast a glance at him, her breath stopping in her throat when she caught him looking at her with a narrowed, intent gaze.
Her body came to full alert—then froze at the flash of the photographer’s bulb. ‘T
hanks,’ the man called cheerfully and disappeared into the crowd.
Awkwardly Sable said, ‘Poppy, we’d better start trying to get these people onto the buses.’
An hour later the caterers finally trundled away, the housekeeper retired after a last jealous inspection of her kitchen, and Sable found herself alone with Kain. Tension gripped her, a swift sharpness that pierced every cell in her body and held her a willing captive.
He’d taken off his tie and loosened the neck of his shirt. The contrast between the white fabric and his tanned skin was so erotic she had to drag her eyes away from it.
‘You look hyper,’ he said, and handed her a glass of champagne. At the automatic shake of her head he said, ‘It’s your first for the evening, and it will help you wind down.’
She sipped the liquid, feeling the delicious stuff trickle down a throat too dry. Without looking at him she said, ‘The Foundation owes you big time—if you hadn’t stepped in when the Browns had to turn us down we’d have been in real trouble.’
‘It was nothing,’ he said coolly. ‘You pulled it off.’
‘With a huge amount of help.’
He smiled. ‘I don’t imagine Poppy was much use.’
‘Actually, that breathless little persona hides a shrewd brain, and although I have the business contacts she seems to know everyone in New Zealand who matters socially. If she didn’t go to school with them then her parents or her cousins did, and between them they seem to be related to almost everyone who’s anyone.’
‘You sound slightly envious.’
She shrugged and put down the wine glass. ‘Not really. You don’t miss what you haven’t had.’
‘You said that once before. Do you have no relatives at all?’
‘Not that I know of. My father grew up in foster homes.’
‘Your mother?’
Mouth twisting, she said, ‘My father never spoke of her except to say that they’d met in one of those homes, so I assume she didn’t have any close relatives.’
‘There are moments,’ he said coolly, ‘when I could—almost—find it in myself to envy you.’