by Kris Pearson
“Not a question I felt like asking the worthy Miss Humphries or the scary Ms Darkmoor...”
“And what were they like?” she asked, wondering why she was holding her breath.
“Baggy pink bloomers and a studded leather chastity belt, I imagine.”
Kate collapsed with mirth at his unexpected reply. She pictured the women who might wear such undergarments. Obviously he’d found neither of them right for Lottie. And they weren’t to his taste either. Her spirits lifted, because maybe her chances of getting the job were better than she’d expected.
“Anyway, you’ll need some warm trousers and a couple of jerseys for the next few days, Matthew continued.
Such an abrupt right turn from chastity belts had Kate blinking and trying to stifle her laughter.
He ploughed firmly on. “A better jacket maybe? T-shirts? Thermals? And I’m serious about the boots—you can’t trot around in heels all the time.”
“I’d still rather pay for things myself.”
“Not a show. You stay, I pay. End of story.”
She drew a sharp breath but held her tongue after that.
He turned into a parking space with exaggerated care.
“It’s all right—I’m holding on this time,” she said, giving him no chance to pounce on her again.
They walked briskly into the vibrant outdoor clothing store he’d discussed with Diana. An assistant approached within seconds. “Mr. McLeod—how can I help you today?”
“Hi Sharon—Lottie and I have a friend staying with us unexpectedly. Kate needs a few days’ clothing—and a decent pair of walking boots.” He drew a slip of paper from his pocket. “There’s your budget. Choose whatever you need to keep her warm.”
Sharon glanced briefly at the ‘budget’ and smiled broadly. “No trouble, Mr. McLeod.”
Matthew turned to Kate. “I’ve something to do for a while, so have fun.” He sauntered away.
“I won’t need much really,” Kate said.
“Make the most of his money,” Sharon said. “He’s got plenty—and think what I could do with the commission.”
Kate shrugged. She’d been outmanoeuvred by experts.
Sharon selected several ensembles, and gathered up little extras to compliment them. Kate disappeared into the fitting room with armful after armful.
It was a whole new experience to shop with no regard to cost. Her previous salary had been perfectly adequate, and she was fond of nice clothes, but still...this was heaven. She was determined to keep expenses to a minimum though. The less she was indebted to Matthew McLeod, the better.
Matthew strode down the mall, trying to stifle his grin. Where was the lingerie boutique? The window displays had often caught his eye, although he’d never shopped there. A few pairs of pretty panties would be the ideal next step in his campaign. He’d never met a woman who didn’t enjoy lingerie, and after his teasing conversation with Kate, they’d almost be an appropriate gift. Almost. His grin grew wider. They’d be a compliment and a goad in equal measure. He concocted a suitable story as he drew nearer. Something to hide in Christmas crackers, perhaps?
He pushed the door open, and warm fragrant air surrounded him. Please God the saleswoman wouldn’t be one of Lottie’s close friends. A tiny green thong on a display stand screamed for attention, and he paused, picturing the scrap of lace and elastic on Kate’s lithe body.
“Good afternoon, sir. How may I be of help?”
The girl looked barely twenty. At least ten years younger than Lottie. Good.
“I need half a dozen pairs of assorted panties,” he began. “We’re having a mid-winter Christmas party, and I’m in charge of finding favours to fit inside the crackers. Something small and pretty? And I guess we go for medium sized?” He glanced at the green thong again.
“That’s from our Mint Julep range,” the assistant said, sensing a customer willing to spend serious money. “We import the line direct from New York. The same designer has this amazing Scent of a Rose collection, too.” She produced another skimpy thong—this time black, and with a deep red rose printed on the front panel. Tiny crystal dewdrops sparkled among the petals. “The fabric is specially perfumed with rose essence. It’s guaranteed to last the life of the garment.”
Matthew’s lips twitched. The few square inches of fabric weren’t large enough to qualify as a ‘garment’ in his opinion. “One of each then,” he said, imagining Kate’s annoyance when she discovered them. “What have you got that’s a bit more concealing?”
The girl searched rapidly through a rack labelled ‘Silkies’ and held up a hanger with a pair of French knickers. “Very retro Hollywood,” she suggested. “Pure silk, with Brussels lace. There’s this cream and ecru option, or...violet and black.”
“The violet.”
“And something more modern?” From further down the rack she drew a pair of black satin boxers printed with silver stars.
Matthew had a sudden flash of Kate wearing them with her black and red camisole. Kick-boxing. Long legs flying. “Perfect,” he agreed. “And, regrettably, we’d better have something more everyday to balance the selection out.”
The girl grinned. “Cotton,” she said. “But we have beautiful fine eco-cotton from Egypt.” She led him to a bin of white bikini panties, each embroidered with a different motif on the hip. “Flower? Angel? Fairy?”
Matthew opted for the angel.
“Look—just right as a pair,” she said, pulling out a small cartoon devil.
He laughed and agreed. “So there’s my six.” He followed her to the sales counter and watched as she removed the price tags, carefully folded each pair, settled them into a nest of lilac tissue paper, and slid them into a shiny bag printed with the boutique’s name and address.
“Anything else, sir?” she asked as he produced his credit card. He thought for a moment. Kate’s overnight tote had been surprisingly small; plainly she’d packed the bare minimum of what she might need. “A robe?” he suggested. “Something long and warm?”
She indicated a rack at the side of the store. “Velour from Italy. They come with matching slippers.”
He took a moment to imagine Kate padding around his home with very little under her robe. “A medium in cream—and the slippers had better be large because she’s tall.”
“They’re backless,” the girl said, checking the sizes, “So I don’t think they’re too critical....but...yes, we have both.”
Kate emerged from the fitting room wearing close-fitting charcoal leggings and a soft possum jersey in riotous mauve, tangerine and fuchsia just as Matthew returned. She managed two or three slinky steps and a twirl before losing her nerve and standing, eyes cast down. How did he do that to her?
“Does the jersey come in any other colours?” he asked Sharon.
“Lime, kingfisher and royal.” She held up the alternative for his inspection.
“One of each then.”
“I don’t need both,” Kate objected.
“But I do. I’ll enjoy seeing you in those,” Matthew replied, unperturbed. “What else has she chosen, Sharon?”
He turned and sorted through the pile of clothes. Kate felt her last shred of privacy being ripped away.
“Not that,” he said, casting aside a long-sleeved khaki shirt.
“Why not?” Kate objected.
“Any other colours, Sharon?”
“Grey, chocolate...black.”
“Chocolate then,” Kate said.
“Black,” he said firmly. They each reached for a hanger. He stood behind her, eyes locked with hers in the mirror. He was at least half a head taller. His warm breath stirred her hair... his dark dangerous cologne and the bitterness of fresh wood-smoke floated on the air around him. So good. She tried not to gulp great breaths of his scent as she held the chocolate shirt against her body.
“You’re not a brown person,” he murmured, his deep voice only inches from her ear. “The khaki was wrong. The chocolate is wrong.” He took the hanger from her
unresisting fingers and dragged the shirt past her breasts in a tingling caress. He replaced it with the black.
Kate wanted desperately to be further apart, but how was she to manage that without giving him a sharp jab in the ribs with her elbow? So tempting—but goodbye to any prospect of getting the job if she did.
“See what I mean?” he said. “That’s much better with your skin.” Again he dragged the shirt away past her rapidly stiffening nipples.
She could do nothing. Here, in a well lit store, in front of an assistant who knew him by name, he was openly flirting and she was helpless to escape. And worse, her body was responding with enthusiasm to his arrogant masculinity.
“How would you know?” she demanded, privately conceding that maybe he was right.
“I have eyes. I live with an artist.”
She turned away, conceding defeat.
“Let’s see that jacket on you,” he suggested.
Kate had been determined to choose sensible, inexpensive fleece instead of the other beautiful fabrics on offer. She’d tried to resist the buttery-soft raspberry leather jacket that Sharon had shown her, but now Matthew was practically forcing her into it. Sighing, she slunk into the fitting room to change, knowing she’d have his intrusive eyes inspecting her again in seconds.
She slithered out for his scrutiny.
Matthew nodded slowly, stepping closer. He gave the collar a small tweak, brushing his fingers through her hair as he did so. “Yes, beautiful. Consider it sold. You like it?”
Kate ignored his question and whirled away, back to the privacy of the fitting room. What right did he have to treat her like that? A few suggestive remarks when they were on their own were bad enough. Touching her in front of someone else was so much worse.
She slumped down on the little bench, mortified and scarlet. The curtain between them billowed in a slight breeze. She heard Matthew and Sharon concluding his purchase, and the crackle of bags as her clothes were packed up.
She removed the raspberry leather, the leggings and the amazing jersey. Slid into her own clothes and the borrowed cream jacket, and emerged with the last armful. She refused to look at him as Sharon finished folding the garments. He was overpowering—a bully—he stole the air from around her! She gave him the merest nod as she gathered up two of the bags.
Outside the bars and cafes, hard-bodied thrill seekers clustered, comparing their day’s experiences. Music throbbed from an upstairs aerobics studio. Kate walked, almost oblivious to her surroundings, and still fuming at his high-handedness, as Matthew led the way back to the SUV.
On her seat she found a further present—a grey and apricot package with a silken draw-cord securing it. She stood it on the dashboard until they were under way, then pulled the cord aside and found a froth of lace and satin snuggled in a nest of lilac tissue paper.
“What!?” she exclaimed, snapping flinty eyes to his amused face.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I had fun. See what you think.”
With trembling fingers, she withdrew a tiny green lace thong. A pair of violet silk French knickers. Another thong that was mostly a print of a dark red full blown rose with tiny twinkling dewdrops. Two pairs of innocent white knit bikini panties, and shiny black boxers embroidered with silver stars.
“How dare you buy me things like this,” she said, trying for ice and outrage.
He took no notice. His slow burning grin widened, and his crackling eyes danced with humour. “I thought you were probably a medium. Slim without being bony. Curvy without being voluptuous. A happy medium.”
Kate snatched an enraged breath. “A most unhappy medium.”
“If they don’t suit, you can exchange them.”
“Oh sure. I’ll just waltz in to the shop and say ‘nice Mr. McLeod bought these for me but I’d rather have something else?’”
“Kate—what is your problem?”
“You are!”
“Well, I thought you’d need underwear.”
“And you thought these would be to my taste?”
“Some more than others, Katie. Some more than others.” His eyes held hers in a steady stare as they waited at an intersection for two pedestrians with snowboards. One eyebrow lifted slightly. Then his wide kissable mouth compressed again as though holding back further mirth.
“And don’t ‘Katie’ me,” she lashed.
“Look—I hoped there’d be something here you’d find useful or suitable or pretty.”
She shot him a killer glance.
“I didn’t know if you wore those little things or something a bit more... concealing. Who knows what women prefer? Not me—but I can picture you in that rosy arrangement...”
“Well, stop picturing me, thank you.”
He tossed her a cavalier grin. “Pretty picture though.”
She snorted. “None of your business,” she muttered.
“And there’s something else in the back that might be handy,” he continued, unperturbed.
Startled, she glanced over her shoulder and found another much larger offering from the same store. Matthew slowed for a turning vehicle. Kate reached backward and dragged the bag over to her seat, quivering with embarrassment.
First, she unwrapped a pair of cream slippers, which looked exactly her size. She had a sudden chilling picture of him prowling her bedroom, long fingers roaming through her possessions, checking her spare pair of shoes. Surely he’d had no time to?
“Just right,” she said coldly.
“Took a punt, seeing they’re backless,” he said, and she relaxed a little.
The rest of the big bag contained a soft full-length velour robe to match. Kate ran her fingers along the pale pink silk piping edging the pockets and lapels. She would never have treated herself to anything as luxurious and expensive. “Thank you. It’s very...nice.” It was a tepid word, she knew, but she hoped not to enrage him again. And she certainly didn’t want to encourage him. At least he wasn’t expecting her to flit about his big house in something short and transparent. She was relieved about that, anyway. She packed the robe away as best she could, and sat staring straight ahead, still far too aware of him.
It was early dusk when they reached the hospital again. This time Lottie was awake—and fractious.
“Ach, this place,” she complained, pushing away the remains of her dinner. Kate hung back as Matthew moved her food tray aside and stood close. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and bent to kiss her forehead. She leaned against him, burying her face against his body and releasing a long noisy sigh.
What an easy affection they had, Kate thought. A sharp tweak of jealousy twisted her heart. It was a long time since her parents had been so relaxed together. A long time since Kate had been embraced as casually and easily. Simon had touched her often, but tended to expect a sexual response in return. To hug with no follow-up wasn’t his style.
“And this is why you are so late to see me?” Lottie asked, turning her wide blue eyes in Kate’s direction.
Matthew grimaced in annoyance. “Third time lucky, Lotts. We came by this morning as soon as I’d collected Kate off the plane but they had you well sedated. We came back after lunch and you were still dead to the world. At last you can meet Kate. Kate Pleasance—Lottie Janssen.”
Kate stepped forward, hand outstretched to shake Lottie’s. “It’s amazing to meet you. And a great surprise.”
Lottie clasped Kate’s carefully manicured hand between her own surprisingly rough ones. It was not a handshake—it was the warmest of welcomes. Her blue eyes twinkled. “The names, ya? I need to be a little careful and not give everything away so soon.”
“I was amazed when Matthew told me.”
“Not too scared off?”
“Not yet, anyway.”
Lottie nodded and finally let go of Kate’s hand. “We see how we go,” she said.
Matthew smiled only faintly. “You can have a big chat tomorrow when we take you home. The doctor says you need to stay the night because of y
our head. But we’ve got Kate for a few days extra to help look after you.”
Lottie slid her eyes back to Kate’s. “So you stay—how long?”
Kate looked across at Matthew and shrugged. “Sunday?” she asked.
“Here for the party then,” Lottie said with satisfaction. “He is the little brother,” she added, wagging her head at Matthew. “Hamish is forty today, and the birthday party is at the vineyard on Saturday.”
Kate couldn’t imagine towering Matthew being anyone’s ‘little’ brother.
“Good thing I made that curry yesterday,” Lottie continued. “You can do some rice and a salad? Diana’s bringing her Banoffie pie. They’re still coming?”
Kate had lost the thread of the conversation entirely. Who was coming? When?
Matthew nodded. “Eight o’clock. Kate can eat your share.” He glanced across at her. “Only Diana and my brother Hamish,” he explained. “We’d planned a celebration dinner at home on the actual birthday. Lottie’s missing out now.”
Kate relaxed slightly as his gaze washed over her. Thank heavens they wouldn’t be alone in the house after all. Or not until much later in the evening. She’d just have to cope with that when it happened. She vowed to keep conducting herself as the cool collected job-seeker, and hoped it would send him the appropriate message of non-availability.
“I’ll need to take you shopping again,” he said.
Kate gazed at him warily. “Whatever for?”
“A party dress for Saturday.”
“I can wear my suit, surely?”
He shook his head. “Real party, Katie. Pretty dresses and tuxedos. We do things properly here in the deep south.”
“Oh that’s ridiculous. I just won’t go—that’ll be easiest.” She looked across to Lottie for back-up.
“Kate, you must come with us—a mysterious guest to make a little thrill for our friends.”
Well, that was no help!
“Do be our mystery guest, Katie,” Matthew encouraged.
Her eyes shot him full of razor blades.