'Yes,' she acknowledged dully. We would. But you only want me now because I'm a challenge, a novelty, a woman who's still in love with a dead man!'
Black eyes searched the quiet stillness of her face. 'You believe that?' he said heavily.
'Yes.'
He sighed. 'Forget dinner,' he turned on his heel. 'I've suddenly lost my appetite.'
That night Cat dreamt that Caleb came to her again.
'For goodness' sake,' Vikki chided as Cat chewed worriedly on her bottom lip. 'It's what you wanted, isn't it?'
Cat read the letter in front of her for what must have been the dozenth time since its arrival that morning. Caleb had agreed to see her for a few minutes the following afternoon. Why?
It was over a week since the night he had left her home so abruptly, and she had heard nothing from him since that time, hadn't expected to hear from him again. He wasn't a man who was usually told no!
This letter from his office, granting her an interview, had come completely out of the blue, and she couldn't help but feel suspicious about his motives. But the chapter on his parents still wasn't going well.
'Cat?' Vikki prompted.
'Yes,' she sighed, 'it's what I wanted.'
'But?'
She hadn't told her friend everything about the evening Caleb had come here, omitting the latter part of their conversation, still too unnerved by it herself.
'Why now?' she frowned.
'Why not?' Vikki shrugged. 'He's met you, realised you aren't going to exploit what you're told; I'm not at all surprised he's agreed to talk to you.'
She was; knew that when Caleb had left that night he had no intention of seeing her again. What had changed his mind? If he had, the letter only said he had agreed to see her, it didn't say what it was about.
'His photograph was in the paper today, did you see it?' Vikki prompted.
Yes, she had seen it. Luke had been leaving hospital, his leg still in plaster, his father driving the car, Luke in the back with a clinging redhead. But it had been Caleb that held her attention, grim-faced and remote. The last thing she had expected was this letter from his office.
'Luke looked well,' she dismissed.
'He looked an idiot,' Vikki scorned. 'The newspaper report said he drove over the side of a bridge,' she said disbelievingly.
'Yes,' she frowned, wondering if he had done it deliberately, because of the emotional unhappiness he was going through. She had been there too long herself not to know the despair he was feeling.
'They also implied his car wasn't the only thing that was as high as a kite.' Vikki looked at her enquiringly.
'I wouldn't know,' she dismissed. 'Do you really think I should go to this meeting?' She abruptly changed the subject, not willing to discuss Luke's emotional trauma even with Vikki.
'Of course you should go.' Her friend sounded scandalised she should even think of refusing. 'Why shouldn't you?' she frowned.
Because the dreams hadn't stopped; because she went to bed every night with feelings of trepidation and anticipation. Caleb was always there, never Harry.
'You're right,' she decided firmly. 'Why shouldn't I?'
There seemed any number of reasons why she shouldn't as she dressed the next day, but she refused to listen to any of them. She had a job to do, and it seemed Caleb was now willing to help her do it. She wouldn't look beyond that.
The previous evening she and Vikki had picked out the clothes she should wear, the black woollen suit feminine but formal. She decided at the last moment that she looked more efficient with her hair up, although several silky tendrils insisted on curling about her cheeks and nape.
She checked her appearance in the full-length mirror before leaving, her sparkling green eyes adorned only by the thick dark lashes, her complexion creamy, her lip-gloss a vivid plum colour. She looked elegantly slender in the woollen top and skirt, her legs long, made to look even more so in the high-heeled sandals. She looked smart enough for a business meeting. And she was determined that that was all this would be.
The Steele office suite was all that she had thought it would be, very luxurious, very efficiently run, and very much Caleb Steele's domain. He ran the English section of his businesses from here, several assistants also in residence to deal with those business holdings. The woman that identified herself as his personal secretary was beautiful enough to have been a film star herself, and Cat instantly recognised her as the woman who had politely but firmly rejected all her previous telephone requests to meet Caleb. If the other woman was aware of those reflections now she gave no sign of it, her manner one of polite friendliness.
Cat wished she possessed some of the other woman's cool confidence as she sat in the reception area waiting for the time Caleb would ring through to say she could go in.
He seemed to be taking his time about it. Was it deliberate? She didn't think he was the sort of man who would stoop to playing games like that just to unnerve a woman who had already made such a nuisance of herself. But the waiting only increased her tension, so that by the time the buzzer sounded on his secretary's desk she was nervous enough to physically jump up from her chair.
The secretary looked up to smile at her. 'Mr Steele will see you now.'
She gave a tight answering smile before moving to the wide wooden doors that were the entrance to Caleb's office. She had woken this morning with the feel of his hands on her body, the touch of his lips on her flesh, and facing him now was the last thing she wanted to do when those memories were still so vivid.
She gave a firm knock on the door before entering.
This office was like something off a film set: opulent armchairs in cream leather placed in front of the flaming log fire, a deep pile carpet that her shoes instantly sank into, a large oak desk in front of a book-lined wall. The man seated behind the desk looked at her coldly as her gaze finally turned on him.
Cat let her breath out in a ragged sigh, grateful for the fact that Caleb looked like a stranger in the dark grey business suit, his expression hard and forbidding, his eyes icy, and nothing like the Caleb of her dreams who seduced her with his body.
'I'm sorry if you were kept waiting.' He spoke dismissively. 'I was on the telephone when you arrived.'
'I didn't mind.' Her own voice was husky from the intimate thoughts she had just had.
'Please, sit down.' He indicated the straight-backed chair facing him across his desk.
She did so, her thoughts racing. How could they act like strangers when they were far from that!
'Are you still having the dreams?'
Her panicked gaze flew to his face, all colour draining from her cheeks. 'Dreams?' she repeated in a strangulated voice.
'About Harry's accident,' he nodded. 'You look like a decent night's sleep wouldn't do you any harm.'
'You don't look too good yourself,' she was stung into replying, deeply relieved that he hadn't been talking about her dreams of him. He couldn't know that not even the nightmares of Harry came to her any more.
'I'd lay odds on my sleepless nights being due to an entirely different reason to yours,' he derided hardly.
And he would be wrong! 'I didn't come here to talk about the way I look, Mr Steel?,' she snapped. 'You seemed to think we had something to discuss?'
'Yes.' His mouth compressed, the black eyes glittering. 'I have some good news for you. And some bad news,' he added drily.
'This sounds like a very bad joke,' she scorned.
'Not mine, I assure you,' Caleb rasped. 'Luke has been up to mischief again.'
Cat felt herself stiffen warily, remembering all too vividly where that young man's 'mischief had left her last time. 'Yes?' she prompted with obvious reluctance.
Caleb sighed. 'He told his grandfather about your requests to meet him.'
'Oh?'
'Which brings us to the good news,' he dismissed mockingly.
Her eyes widened eagerly. 'He's agreed to see me?' she gasped.
'Yes,' Caleb ground out, as if he were
n't at all pleased at the idea.
Her pleasure at that glowed in her eyes, only to be dulled again as she realised she hadn't yet heard the 'bad news'. It meant there had to be some sort of condition attached to the meeting.
'He's agreeable to talking about his marriage to your mother?' she prompted for this much at least.
'Subject to reading and approving what you write, yes,' Caleb rasped.
'What else?' she frowned, sure that wasn't the 'bad news'; she had already assured Caleb she would do that anyway. She had no intention of upsetting or hurting anyone.
He leaned back in his chair, watching her with narrowed eyes. 'You know that my father has chosen to shut himself away from the world in recent years?'
'Of course,' she nodded slowly, wary of what was to come.
'Well, he isn't in London.'
'I see.'
'Do you?' Caleb scorned. 'I very much doubt that you do.'
'Then why don't you get on with it and tell me instead of playing this guessing game with me!' she snapped in her tension, colour entering her cheeks as she realised what she had done. 'I'm sorry,' she said abruptly. 'I—it's just that this means a lot to me,' she excused lamely.
His mouth was tight, his eyes cold. 'My father has asked me to issue you with an invitation for you to stay with him this weekend.'
'Why, that's wonder—'
'Cat,' he flatly cut in on her enthusiasm. 'All you will know about your destination is that you won't leave Britain!'
CHAPTER FOUR
Cat frowned. 'And just what does that mean?'
'Isn't it obvious?' he returned snappingly. 'If you want to meet my father you will get yourself to the airport at six-thirty tomorrow evening.'
Airport? 'I thought you said he was in Britain?'
'He is,' Caleb sighed. 'But Britain is a big place, and' a flight will be quicker and less tiring. And don't try and work out where he could be if you have to fly there,' he derided, as she could be seen doing just that. 'We could just fly you around in circles for a couple of hours and land nearby.'
She pulled a face. 'Isn't all this a little dramatic?'
He shrugged broad shoulders. 'How long is it since my father spoke to a reporter?'
Ten years. Lucien Steele had hidden himself away completely for the last two years of that time, but he had refused to be interviewed a long time before that. His books, huge blockbusters about Hollywood and the people that existed in that glittery world, were always bestsellers, the .fact that the author had lived in that world and now refused to talk about it making them avid reading. But rumours of ghost-writers had abounded the last few years simply because he locked himself away and wouldn't see anyone.
Cat knew she was very privileged to be allowed to meet him. If only the meeting weren't made to seem so mysterious.
'I need hardly add,' Caleb rasped, 'that I'm completely against the idea.'
That had been obvious from the first. Whatever attraction he had professed to feel for her last week was now superseded by his harsh disapproval of this proposed visit to his father. And for that she was extremely grateful. Maybe now the dreams would stop.
'I'll go,' she decided firmly.
Black eyes narrowed. 'Just like that?' he bit out. 'You'll fly off to God knows where for the weekend and yet you refused to even have dinner with me!'
Her mouth twisted. 'I think a weekend with your father would be less dangerous than dinner with you,' she taunted.
That rare warmth darkened his eyes., the anger going from his face as he began to smile. 'You're probably right,' he drawled. 'I haven't changed my mind about you, little cat,' he added softly.
So much for that supposition! 'Neither have I,' Her eyes flashed.
He gave an appreciative inclination of his head for her show of temper. 'Bringing you round to wanting what I want could prove an interesting battle.'
'One you would be predestined to lose,' she assured him confidently.
'Ah yes,' he pursed his lips. 'Any man would find it difficult to fight the ghost of a previous lover!'
Cat stiffened at the derision in his tone. 'Harry was my life, she bit out.
'And would he have wanted you to waste what was left of it?'
She breathed raggedly. 'I told you, I enjoy my life as it is.'
Caleb stood up, and she involuntarily took a step backwards, her nervousness increasing at the predatory look that entered his eyes at her movement. He came round the desk now to stand in front of her, his hands reaching for her.
'No—'
'I don't like women flinching away from me, little cat,' he murmured throatily. 'Especially when I can so easily stroke you and make you purr.'
Panic widened her eyes, and she took another step backwards, only to feel her calf press up against something soft before she felt herself overbalance and fall down into one of the leather armchairs.
Caleb stood over her looking down, blocking her exit. 'Do you know how long it is since I allowed thoughts of a woman, any woman, to disturb my nights?' he rasped. 'Since I reached out for a certain woman's body only to find she wasn't there?'
Cat swallowed hard, apprehension in her eyes. If he should touch her—
'Years, little cat,' he murmured self-derisively. 'I'm sorry the man you loved died, Cat,' he added huskily, 'but I'm very much alive, and warning you is killing me!'
She gasped as he came down in the chair beside her, the length of his body pressed against her.
'Cat.' He gently cupped her chin and turned her to face him, his expression gentle. 'I didn't plan for this to happen,' he groaned. 'I thought I could see you again, put my father's proposition to you, and then forget about you. But I can't, Cat. I can't!'
Cat watched in fascination as his head bent towards hers, seeing that his eyes weren't really black after all but a deep, deep blue. And they were coming closer and closer and closer…
His lips parted hers, and as they did so Cat realised this was the first time his mouth had touched hers; that first morning he had caressed only her breasts. His mouth on hers wasn't at all as she had imagined it would be; it was warm and inviting, moving with infinite gentleness against hers. Her eyes closed, and it was just like her dreams; the scent of him, the feel of him, his shoulders firm beneath her hands as she clung to him.
His mouth moved moistly across her cheek and down her throat, his hair smelling of lemons as it brushed against her, his teeth nibbling the sensitive hollows of her throat, the caressing motion of his hand faltering beneath the curve of her breast, his thumb stroking against the hardening nub.
She cradled him into her as she felt the warmth from the fire touch her bared skin, only to know a burning sensation through to her thighs as one taut nipple was suckled into his eager mouth, his tongue caressing her in circular movements.
Her breathing was ragged as she arched against him, needing more, wanting more, receiving more as his hand cupped her other breast. She was lost, on fire, reality and dreams becoming one, and she couldn't stop either one of them.
A loud cracking noise wrenched Caleb's head up in a startled movement, his eyes black with passion, his lips moist with the taste of her.
'Damn,' he muttered impatiently, bending down to pick up the hot splinter of wood that had been thrown from the fire, tossing it back amongst the flames before turning back to Cat.
'I—I thought it was an artificial one,' she croaked inadequately.
'No,' he replied with surprising intensity. 'It's very real.'
Bewildered green eyes gazed up into black ones, and she quickly turned away from whatever he was trying to say to her in those expressive depths, grateful to him as she felt the softness of her jumper pulled down over her aching breasts, tears flooding her eyes as he stood up.
'I dislike anything false, Cat,' he spoke raspingly. 'And you're so very real.'
She straightened in the chair, not able to face him yet, not able to face herself yet! 'Except the dyed eyelashes,' she reminded him sharply.
H
is mouth twisted. 'Everyone is allowed at least one artifice,' he drawled. 'Everything else about you is very real.'
Including her response to him! No matter how she tried to deny it she couldn't refuse this man anything he asked of her.
'Including my love for Harry,' she said in a hard voice, hoping he would forgive her for using him as a shield in this shameless way.
Caleb's mouth tightened. 'You can only beat me with that stick so many times, Cat, before it ceases to have any effect,' he warned gratingly.
Her chin went up in challenge. 'Did it work this time?'
'Yes!'
'Then I have no reason to suppose it will be put to the test again,' she told him coldly. 'I doubt the two of us will meet again.'
He smiled without humour. 'You think I'm going to back off?'
'I don't think you have too much choice about it,' she scorned.
'No?' he queried softly.
She felt a flutter of apprehension in her stomach. She had known she shouldn't come here today. Next time she would listen to her own reasoning! 'I have to leave now.' She stood up, self-consciously straightening her clothing. 'Will someone meet me at the airport tomorrow evening?' she asked, with much more calm than she felt.
Caleb frowned. 'You'll still go?'
'Of course,' she nodded distantly.
'Good,' he said admiringly. 'I wondered if my persistence might have put you off.'
'This—has nothing to do with my meeting your father,' she bit out tautly.
'I couldn't agree more.' He moved to sit back behind his desk. 'Yes, someone will meet you at the airport. And pack warm clothing,' he advised. 'The forecast is snow. Everywhere,' he taunted, as she tried to remember where they had forecast snow on the radio this morning.
He was right, it had been everywhere; this was one of the worst Februarys England had had in years. 'Will the plane be able to take off in such extreme weather?' she frowned.
Caleb shrugged. 'The snow forecast was for the weekend.'
'But—'
'I'll let you know if the plans change,' he derided. 'After all, I know where you live.'
No Longer a Dream Page 6