by Miranda Lee
But would he be able to withstand Nick’s scrutiny?
Flora had told her yesterday that Nick took his job as her guardian very seriously indeed. Which in the past had obviously included vetting her boyfriends and making sure they weren’t fortune-hunters.
Bringing Derek home so close to her inheriting her father’s estate—not to mention telling Nick that they were very much in love—would only make him extra-protective. And paranoid.
She’d feel more confident if Derek weren’t gay. And if she’d met this Chloe before. The unknown made her nervous. And she didn’t want to be nervous. She wanted to swan downstairs just before midday, the epitome of cool composure and worldly sophistication. She wanted Nick to take one look at her and think to himself that she was the most beautiful and desirable woman that he had ever seen!
CHAPTER SIX
BY ELEVEN, Nick had done everything that needed to be done downstairs. The tables and shady blinds had been set up, and the wine brought up from the cellar and delivered to the family-room bar. The caterers had arrived right on ten, the staff consisting of three females and two males, a highly efficient group of people whose job it was to take the stress out of Christmas Day dinners.
Nick smiled ruefully to himself as he went upstairs. He had no doubt that they did a very good job with the food, the serving and the clearing up afterwards. But nothing—and no one—was going to take the stress out of this Christmas dinner. Not for him, anyway.
He’d thought he’d finally got a handle on the unwanted desires Sarah had been evoking in him since she turned sixteen. But no, he’d just been deluding himself. Her staying away from home for most of this year had lulled him into a false sense of security. That, and meeting Chloe, whose sexy body and entertaining company had banished his secret lust for Sarah into the dungeon of his mind; that dark, dank place in which Nick imprisoned memories and emotions that were best forgotten. Or, at least, ignored.
He’d honestly thought he was prepared for Sarah’s presence at Christmas. Thought he’d taken every precaution to keep the door to that mental dungeon firmly locked.
It had been Flora’s news over breakfast yesterday that Sarah was bringing a boyfriend to the Christmas Day lunch which had shattered his illusion of iron self-control, stirring up a hornet’s nest of jealousy within him. Next thing Nick knew, he was staying home from golf, just so that he could be here when she arrived. He’d made the excuse that he needed to talk to her about her inheritance, when in fact what he’d wanted most was to question her about the new man in her life.
Finding out that she was madly in love with this Derek didn’t do his jealousy any good. OK, so on the surface he’d managed to control himself around Sarah. He gave himself full marks for not kissing her when he’d had the chance yesterday afternoon.
But he’d given in to temptation over those diamond earrings, hadn’t he? Spent a small fortune on them, with the full intention of letting dear Derek know who’d bought them for her.
The truth was Nick had behaved badly every time Sarah brought home a boyfriend. He’d always pretended to himself that he was only doing what Ray had asked him to do, justifying his actions with the excuse that he was protecting her from fortune-hunters.
But that was actually far from the truth. None of those poor boys in the past had been gold-diggers. How could they be, when Sarah had never told anyone she was an heiress? They’d just been young men who’d had the good fortune—or was it misfortune?—to be where Nick had always wanted to be.
With Sarah.
The savage satisfaction he’d experienced every time he broke up one of her relationships showed just what kind of man he was: rotten to the core and wickedly selfish.
What would he do this time? he wondered grimly as he mounted the top landing and gazed down the hallway towards Sarah’s bedroom.
Nothing, he hoped. The same way he’d done nothing yesterday when she’d been in his arms. He’d wanted to kiss her. Hell, he’d ached to kiss her.
But what would that have achieved, except make her look at him not with adoration as she’d once done, but with disgust? Sarah had finally fallen in love; possibly she was on the verge of having what she’d always wanted: marriage and children.
If this Derek was a decent fellow, then it would be cruel and callous to try to put doubts in Sarah’s head about him.
Yet he wanted to …
Still, wanting to do something and actually doing it were two entirely different things. He’d wanted to seduce Sarah for years, but he hadn’t, had he?
Nick shook his head agitatedly as he forged on across the carpeted landing into the master bedroom. It wasn’t till he shut the door behind him that his mind shifted from his immediate problem with Sarah to another problem he would have to face in the near future.
Come February, he had to leave this house.
It would be a terrible wrench, Nick knew. He’d grown very attached to the place, and the people in it. He could not imagine coming home to any other house, or any other bedroom.
Strange, really. Eight years ago, after Ray died and Nick moved into the house, he hadn’t much liked this bedroom.
Ray had gone Japanese-mad after his trip to Tokyo; the gardens hadn’t been the only thing around Goldmine to be changed: the master-bedroom suite had been totally gutted, its walls painted white, the plush gold carpet ripped out and polished floorboards laid. The heavy mahogany bedroom suite had been given to charity, to be replaced by black lacquered Japanese-style furniture. The king-sized bed was now large and low, the duvet and pillows covered in scarlet silk with sprays of flowers at their corners.
Other than two matching black lacquered bedside tables, there’d been no furniture in the room, the walk-in wardrobe being spacious enough to accommodate all Ray’s clothes.
The bathroom had been changed with an all-white suite during this refurbishment, enlarged as well to accommodate a huge spa bath that you could practically swim in.
Nick liked the bathroom, but had found the bedroom rather stark, and not evocative of the atmosphere he wanted his bachelor boudoir to evoke. So he’d bought three fluffy white rugs to surround the bed, and some white cane chairs for the corners. A huge plasma television now hung on the wall opposite the bed with access to every satellite television channel available. Black silk sheets were his final purchases, along with some new shades for the chrome-based bedside lamps: red, of course.
The effect at night was erotic and sensual.
When in his bedroom, Nick didn’t pretend to be anything but what he was: a very sensual man.
Which made his actions last night after the party almost incomprehensible.
Why, when he’d taken Chloe home, hadn’t he gone inside and made mad, passionate love to her? She’d been all over him like a rash at the door. Normally, he loved it when she was sexually aggressive, loved it that he didn’t have to be gentle with her. At any other time, he would have pushed her inside and had her up against the wall.
Instead her rapacious mouth had repelled him for some reason, and he found himself telling her he had a headache. A headache, for pity’s sake!
Chloe had been surprised, but reasonably understanding, sending him off with a kiss on the cheek and the advice to have a good night’s sleep.
‘You won’t get off so easily tomorrow night,’ she’d added as he walked back to his car.
Nick hadn’t gone straight home. He’d driven round and round, trying to work out why he wasn’t in Chloe’s bed right at that moment, sating his desires to a degree where he wouldn’t be capable of feeling any lust for anyone!
Then, when he’d finally come home, he’d fallen into a fitful sleep, his dreams filled with disturbingly erotic images involving the bane of his life. In one dream, Sarah had come down to the Christmas lunch wearing that minute bikini that had tormented him all those years ago. In another, she had been decorating that damned Christmas tree in the nude. In yet another, she’d been in his arms and he was kissing her the way he’d wanted to
kiss her yesterday.
He’d woken from that dream incredibly aroused.
When Flora had sent him into Sarah’s bedroom to wake her this morning, he’d stared down at her sleeping form for longer than was decent, the dungeon door in his mind well and truly open. Then, when she’d waltzed down to present-giving in that sexy little nightie, he’d been consumed with a desire so strong it had taken every ounce of his will-power to keep himself in check.
Her giving him that exquisite and very expensive miniature golf set had tormented him further, giving rise to the provocative possibility that, despite her new boyfriend, she still secretly fancied him. But her rather offhand words that her present was a parting gift of gratitude had propelled Nick back to cold, hard reality.
Sarah was well and truly over her schoolgirl crush on him. He’d lost his chance with her, if he’d ever had one.
It was this last thought that was bothering him the most.
‘You should be glad she’s over you,’ he muttered as he marched towards the bathroom, stripping off his T-shirt as he went. ‘Now all you have to do is concentrate on getting through today without behaving badly.’
Nick wrenched off his jeans, before walking over to snap on the water in the shower.
‘No sarcastic remarks,’ he lectured himself as he stepped under the ice-cold spray. ‘No telling Derek you bought his girlfriend thirty-thousand-dollar earrings. And definitely no looking, no matter what she wears!’
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘LET’S go, Sarah.’
Nick’s loud command—called through her bedroom door—was accompanied by an impatient knocking.
Sarah’s bedside clock showed it was three minutes to twelve, two minutes after Nick had asked her to be downstairs.
‘Coming,’ Sarah called back after one last nervous glance in her dressing-table mirror.
She did look good: the red and white sun-dress clung to her shapely but slender body, and her choice of hairstyle—she’d put it up—showed off her new diamond earrings.
It wasn’t Sarah’s sexy appearance that had the butterflies gathering in her stomach. It was this silly charade with Derek. Nick was going to spot something strange about their relationship, she felt sure of it!
But it was too late now. Derek was on his way, having texted her a while back to say the taxi he’d ordered had just arrived and he should be at her place by twelve.
Sarah pulled her scarlet-glossed mouth back into what she hoped passed for a happy smile and hurried across the room, movement setting her earrings swinging. When she wrenched open the door, Nick glanced up from where he was leaning with his back against the gallery railing. He still looked tired, she thought, but very handsome in fawn chinos and a brown and cream striped short-sleeved shirt.
‘I’m ready,’ she said breezily.
Nick’s dark eyes swept over her from head to toe, his top lip curling slightly, as it did sometimes. ‘Yes, but ready for what?’
His sarcasm rankled, as always.
Sarah planted her hands on her hips, just above where her skirt flared out saucily. ‘It wouldn’t hurt you to say something nice to me for a change.’
His eyebrows lifted, as though she’d surprised him with her stance. ‘That’s a matter of opinion. But if you insist …’ His eyes travelled over her again, this time much more slowly.
A huge lump formed in her throat when his gaze lingered on her breasts before lifting to her mouth, then up to her eyes. If she’d been hoping to see desire in his detailed survey, however, she was doomed to disappointment.
‘You look utterly gorgeous today, Sarah,’ he said at last, but in a rather dry fashion. ‘Derek is a very lucky man.’
Sarah was tempted to stamp her foot in frustration when the doorbell rang, saving her from her uncharacteristic temper tantrum.
‘That’ll probably be Derek now,’ she tossed off instead, and bolted for the stairs, eager to answer the door without Nick being too close a witness to their greeting.
It wasn’t Derek at the door, but an attractive, thirty-something brunette wearing a wrap-around electric-blue dress and a smile that would have cut glass.
Sarah knew immediately who it was.
‘Sarah, I presume,’ the woman said archly after a swift once-over that made her ice-blue eyes even icier. ‘I’m Chloe, Nick’s girlfriend.’
Of course you are, Sarah thought tartly. Nick’s girlfriends might look different from one another—this one had a very short, chic hairdo, plus a much curvier body than the others. But underneath their varied physical features always lay a hard-nosed piece with no genuine warmth or niceness.
Sarah despised Chloe on sight.
‘Hi there,’ she managed politely before spinning round to see where Nick was. No way was she going to be caught having to make small talk with the bitch du jour.
Nick was still coming down the stairs, his expression none too happy.
‘Chloe’s here,’ she called out to him.
For a split-second, Sarah could have sworn he had no idea who she was talking about. But then the penny dropped and he hurried to the door, his disgruntled face breaking into a smile.
‘Happy Christmas, darling,’ Chloe gushed as she threw herself into Nick’s arms.
Sarah turned away so that she didn’t have to watch them kiss, her stomach contracting when she heard Chloe whisper something about giving him his main Christmas present later that night.
It was extremely fortunate that Derek chose that moment to arrive, Sarah’s nervous anticipation over their charade was obliterated in the face of her need to have someone by her side on her side.
‘Derek, darling!’ she gushed in much the same way Chloe had. ‘Merry Christmas. Oh, it’s so good to see you.’ She let out a mental sigh of relief when she took in the way he was dressed. She’d been a bit worried he might wear a pink Paisley shirt, or something equally suspect. But no, he looked very attractive and sportily masculine in knee-length cargo shorts and a chest-hugging sky-blue top that complimented his fair colouring and showed off his great body.
‘And you too, babe,’ Derek returned, startling Sarah with his choice of endearment, not to mention his leaning over the rather large present he was holding to kiss her full on the mouth, taking his time.
‘You look incredible,’ he said on straightening. ‘Doesn’t she look incredible, everyone?’
Neither Nick nor Chloe said a word.
Sarah flushed with embarrassment, but Derek was undeterred.
‘I hope this fits, babe,’ he said, then pressed the present into her hands. ‘I saw it in a shop window and I thought straight away that it was you to a T.’
Sarah didn’t know whether to be pleased, or afraid of the contents. Derek had a wicked streak in him that was proving to be as entertaining as it was worrying.
‘I … I’ll open it a bit later,’ she hedged. ‘I have to help Nick greet our guests. Which reminds me. Nick, this is Derek,’ she said by way of a formal introduction. ‘Derek, this is Nick, my guardian.’
‘No kidding,’ Derek said as he shook Nick’s hand. ‘I got the impression you’d be older.’
Sarah tried not to laugh. But it was rather funny, seeing the expression on Nick’s face.
‘And I’m Chloe,’ Chloe said with a sickeningly sweet smile. ‘Nick’s girlfriend.’
It never ceased to amaze Sarah how females like Chloe possessed split personalities—a super-sweet one for dealing with the male sex, a super-sour one, for their own.
‘Why don’t you go open your Christmas pressie in private?’ Chloe suggested to Sarah with pretend saccharin-sweetness. ‘I can help Nick answer the door, can’t I, darling? I mean, all of the guests—other than Derek, of course—are Nick’s friends.’
‘What a good idea!’ Sarah said, jumping at the chance to remove herself from Chloe’s irritating presence. Of all Nick’s girlfriends, she disliked this one the most, the conniving, two-faced cow!
‘No, not down there,’ Derek whispered when she grabbed
his elbow and began steering him across the foyer towards the sunken family room. ‘Take me upstairs. To your bedroom.’
‘My bedroom!’ she squawked, grinding to a halt.
‘Ssh. Yes, your bedroom,’ he went on softly. ‘Don’t ask why, just do it. And don’t look back at either of those two. Just giggle, and then skip up those stairs with me.’
‘I never giggle.’ She hated females who giggled.
‘You’re going to today. That is, if you don’t want to wonder for the rest of your life what it would be like to spend a night in Mr Dreamy’s bed.’
Sarah finally saw what he was up to. ‘This won’t work, Derek, trust me.’
‘No, you trust me. I know what I’m doing here, Sarah. I’m a master at the art of sexual jealousy. All gays are.’
‘Ssh. Don’t say that out loud.’
‘Then do as you’re told.’
Sarah refused to giggle. But she did laugh, then let Derek usher her with somewhat indecent speed up the stairs.
‘Which room is yours?’ he asked once they reached the landing.
‘The third one on the right.’
‘Nice room,’ he said on closing the door behind them.
‘Nick thinks it’s too girlie. He also thinks I’m too thin now. He still doesn’t fancy me, Derek. You’re wasting your time trying to make him jealous.’
Derek smiled. ‘That’s not the impression I got when I kissed you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I kept my eyes open a fraction and watched your guardian’s reaction over your shoulder.’
‘And?’
‘He hated it. And he hated me. I could feel his hatred hitting me in waves. Then, when he shook my hand he tried to crush my fingers.’
Sarah shook her head as she walked over and placed Derek’s present on her pink quilt. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said as she sat down next to it.
‘Why not?’
‘Because I … Because he … Just because!’ she snapped.
‘You know what, Sarah? I think you’re afraid.’