Taming The Notorious Billionaire (HQR Presents)

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘You sound awful,’ he questioned. ‘Don’t you feel well?’

  ‘I feel fine,’ she moaned. ‘It’s these little men with their hammers I’m worried about,’ she grimaced as she tried to sit up, the pounding in her head becoming worse. ‘They can’t seem to get out of my head,’ she added weakly.

  Rod gave a throaty chuckle. ‘I would imagine seeing you sozzled is quite something.’

  ‘Not the morning after it isn’t.’ She leant back against the pillows she had propped up behind her. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Bartlett?’ she asked briskly deciding there had been enough pleasantries between them for now.

  ‘You can tell me what time Fenwick left you last night,’ he grated.

  Colour flooded her cheeks at the erroneous assumption he had made. ‘About an hour after you did,’ she snapped. ‘Now if that’s all you called for—’

  ‘It isn’t,’ he said quickly. ‘I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty tonight, all right?’

  ‘Do I have a choice?’ she mumbled.

  ‘I don’t recall having to use force to make you accept my invitation,’ he said icily.

  No, he hadn’t forced her, but circumstances had. If she wanted to help Kathy she had no choice. ‘Seven-thirty will be fine,’ she agreed stiltedly. ‘Now if you don’t mind I’d like to go and take something to stop the little men with their hammers.’

  Rod gave another laugh of enjoyment. ‘I wish you luck.’ He rang off abruptly.

  It was a miracle how she managed to get through the day, although she knew it was partly due to the cups of coffee she consumed. Michael telephoned to see how she was, and she turned down his invitation for tomorrow, knowing now that the thought of her already having a boyfriend hadn’t put Rod off at all.

  Going out for a meal was the last thing she felt like in the circumstances, and yet she obediently went up to her room at seven o’clock to get ready for her date, the black and grey velvet dress warm against the brisk January winds, with a high button collar, grey lace yoke and cuffs, the style loose and comfortable, although nevertheless managing to complement the perfection of her figure.

  Rod’s eyes darkened appreciatively as she joined him downstairs, and it was only with tremendous effort of will she was able to withstand the brief kiss he caressed across her parted lips. He looked devastating, the black dinner jacket and snowy white shirt fitting him perfectly, his hair lightly tousled by the breeze.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ he told her huskily, taking her elbow to guide her out to his waiting car.

  She resisted the impulse to tell him he did too, although it would have been no less than the truth. She had never seen such a handsome man, his skin lightly tanned except for the lighter colour of his jaw where his beard had been shaved off. It was this fact that reminded her how he had deceived her when he came here two months ago, and it would remain a visual reminder of how stupid she had been to trust him then.

  ‘For you,’ he handed her a small cellophane-wrapped box before turning to start the engine of the Jaguar.

  She looked down wordlessly at the single red rose against the bed of black velvet, feeling something twist in her heart. How many other woman had received this seemingly romantic gesture in the past, had Kathy known it too? Perhaps not, Rod had been a little poorer then, no more than a student himself, and so probably unable to afford such luxuries to seduce his women. But no doubt dozens of women had received a similar red rose from him since then.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said stiltedly, putting the box down on the console between them. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she added woodenly, without any real warmth.

  Rod gave her a puzzled sideways glance, driving the Jaguar with speed and efficiency of movement. ‘Won’t you wear it on your gown?’ he suggested softly.

  ‘It seems a pity to take it out of the box,’ she refused. ‘It looks so nice there. Where are we going?’ she changed the subject.

  ‘The steak house on the other side of town,’ he told her in a dismissive tone. ‘How are the little men with their hammers this evening?’

  ‘Taking a rest,’ she said abruptly. ‘Did you book a table at the restaurant, it can get very busy?’

  ‘I booked a table,’ he nodded.

  ‘Although I don’t suppose you usually have trouble getting a table, anywhere, do you,’ she realised derisively.

  His hands tightened briefly on the steering-wheel. ‘Not usually, no,’ he acknowledged tautly.

  ‘Oh to be rich and famous,’ she mocked.

  ‘I’m not as rich as you might think,’ he bit out. ‘The roles I take don’t always pay well, but I’d rather do something I believe in than something that just pays well. As for being famous,’ his mouth twisted, ‘that can definitely have its drawbacks.’

  Keilly quickly discovered that one of them was being stared at in restaurants! Most of the other diners were too polite to actually come over and speak to Rod, although one or two did, and he always reacted courteously. But even if people didn’t actually come over and speak to him they stared at him constantly. Rod seemed immune to their stares, although their constant attention to their every movement was starting to grate on Keilly’s nerves.

  ‘Doesn’t it bother you?’ she finally had to ask him.

  ‘Being looked at?’ He instantly knew what was worrying her. ‘Yes, it bothers me. And when I’m in London I try to avoid situations like this as much as possible. But I didn’t think you would have agreed to going back to my cottage for a meal,’ he added dryly.

  ‘No,’ she confirmed.

  ‘And eating at the hotel would hardly be taking you out,’ he shrugged.

  She could see what point he was trying to make, but this was like being in a goldfish bowl! ‘I couldn’t stand this all the time,’ she sipped her coffee with relief, glad the meal was over and they could soon leave.

  ‘I’m sorry, Keilly,’ he put his hand over hers. ‘I didn’t realise it would upset you as much as it is.’

  She quickly released her hand from his, aware of the instant increase of conversation about them even if he wasn’t. Rod couldn’t understand the torment of a fatherless childhood that had given her a need to stay out of the limelight as much as possible, never to draw undue attention to herself. Most actors were known to thrive on such adulation, how could he possibly understand how she felt about it?

  ‘It isn’t usually this bad, believe me,’ he assured her at her continued silence. ‘There are lots of places in London where you’re totally ignored.’

  She held back a shudder with effort, no longer willing to raise her gaze from the table-top. ‘This isn’t London,’ she reminded him stiffly.

  ‘No,’ he acknowledged heavily, concern for her in his troubled blue eyes. ‘Hell, this isn’t the way I wanted it to be at all,’ he rasped. ‘I wanted you to enjoy this evening, for us to finally get to know each other in a relaxed atmosphere. You really hate this recognition, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Would you like to leave?’

  ‘More than anything,’ she nodded quickly.

  ‘Then we will,’ he sighed, signalling the waitress for their bill.

  Keilly was still shaking with reaction when they got outside to the car park, raising no objection when Rod took her in his arms, holding her comfortingly against his chest. She needed his warmth at the moment, felt badly shaken by what had happened in the restaurant.

  ‘It’s still early, come back to the cottage with me?’ Rod urged against her temple.

  The cottage offered privacy after what had been nothing more than a public spectacle. She nodded in silent agreement, letting him help her into the car, huddling down into her woollen coat until he got the heating working.

  ‘You’ll soon warm up,’ he assured her, giving her a concerned glance.

  It wasn’t only the weather that made her feel chilled, although she couldn’t tell him that. How could she suffer through more evenings like tonight, even for Kathy’s sake?

  Rod was as silent as
she on the drive to the cottage he was renting, and she was glad of these few minutes to collect herself. She knew it wasn’t only being stared at that had upset her, that the headache from this morning was still with her. Altogether it had been a disastrous day for her.

  She knew Selchurch well enough to realise, even in the dark, that the cottage Rod was driving to was actually on Peter’s estate! Her mind froze in horror at the thought, although she knew Peter probably didn’t even realise, as his manager dealt with the rental of the cottages. She felt certain Kathy had no idea!

  ‘It’s quite comfortable,’ Rod told her as he opened her door for her before leading the way up the unlit path to the front door, unlocking it to switch on the lights.

  Keilly knew just how comfortable these cottages were, knew they had been converted into luxury dwellings from the small estate cottages that used to be rented by the estate workers during Peter’s father’s day. Peter had built all new houses for his workers, knocking two of these old cottages into one and renting them out during the summer months. If Rod had made enquiries about one any later than April he wouldn’t have found one available.

  The lounge had retained its beamed ceiling and stone walls, the thick green carpet and brown leather suite all chosen by Kathy to fit in with the character of the cottage, the fireplace the main centre of the room, although the fire was only needed for show nowadays, central heating installed along with the conversions. There was also a large kitchen down here fitted with all the modern conveniences, plus a small dining room, and upstairs would be the three medium-sized bedrooms and the luxurious bathroom. There were ten such cottages on the estate, although this was the remotest of them all, an indication that Rod liked his privacy too—when he could get it. This only managed to remind her of the ordeal she had just suffered, sitting down suddenly in one of the wing-backed leather armchairs.

  ‘Here.’

  She looked up to find a glass of what smelt revoltingly like brandy being held out in front of her. ‘No, thanks,’ she refused with distaste, having drunk only water during their meal in preference to the wine Rod had enjoyed.

  ‘It will help,’ he encouraged gently. ‘And who knows,’ he added mockingly. ‘It could help get rid of that hangover you still have.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘How did you—’

  ‘I’ve had one or two myself in the past,’ he mused.

  Her mouth tightened. ‘Of course,’ she acknowledged as she took the glass and swallowed some of the liquid, instantly beginning to cough.

  Rod laughed softly as he patted her on the back. ‘Has’ it taken your mind off your headache?’

  She glared up at him. ‘Very funny. I think I would prefer coffee.’

  He straightened. ‘I’ll get some,’ he nodded, his eyes still glinting with humour as he left the room.

  Keilly listened to him moving about the kitchen for a few minutes before getting up to join him. She stood in the doorway watching as he prepared the percolated coffee, the kitchen surprisingly tidy despite the obvious evidence of habitation.

  He turned as if aware of her presence, the jacket to his dinner suit despatched to a kitchen chair, the snowy white shirt fitting snugly to his powerful chest and taut stomach, the tie discarded and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. He looked comfortably relaxed, as if he were used to doing things like this for himself. Which brought her back to the question of who Barbie was.

  ‘Do you live alone in London?’ she asked the question casually, although she knew by the way his brows went down over his eyes that he had caught the hidden question.

  He turned to lean back against the kitchen unit, his eyes narrowed. ‘Since Veronica died, yes,’ he finally answered.

  Her eyes widened. ‘You haven’t lived with anyone for six years?’

  ‘No,’ he bit out, his mouth tight. ‘A commitment to live with someone is a big decision, not something I would do lightly. Although that doesn’t mean there haven’t been women.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Keilly derided.

  His expression darkened. ‘I said there had been women, that doesn’t mean I jumped into bed with someone else the day after she died!’

  She blushed at his angry rebuke. ‘I wasn’t implying that you had—’

  ‘Weren’t you?’ he scorned, carrying the tray of coffee into the lounge, brushing past her with no indication that he knew he had even touched her.

  ‘I really wasn’t,’ she protested, following him. ‘I just wondered who Barbie was,’ she admitted tightly.

  Rod poured the coffee, waiting for her to be seated opposite him before he answered her. ‘Barbie is my secretary.’

  ‘Secretary?’ she repeated disbelievingly.

  ‘That’s right,’ his mouth quirked mockingly. ‘The telephone call I received from her the first time I was here was to let me know they had started the location shooting on my last film earlier than scheduled, and that I was expected in California immediately. Barbie keeps me sane by telling me where I should be at any given time, organises my travel and anything else I might ask of her.’

  ‘I see,’ Keilly didn’t sound convinced.

  Rod shook his head, his mouth twisted wryly. ‘I don’t think you do. Barbie is very happily married to her husband of the last fifteen years, and has three lovely children to show for it. I’m even godfather to the youngest,’ he added mockingly. ‘Barbie is a wife, but not mine.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Suitably chastened?’

  She chewed on her inner lip. ‘I suppose so,’ she admitted grudgingly.

  ‘Good,’ he gave a dazzling smile, moving to sit on the side of her chair. ‘Now that we have that settled, could we be friends again?’

  Friends was something the two of them could never be, but without exposing Kathy’s part in his past she couldn’t tell him that. And right at this moment she had something more dangerous than Kathy’s exposure to deal with! Rod had removed her coffee cup from her hand and was even now making room for himself in the chair beside her.

  ‘I had such plans for us when I came back,’ he told her huskily. ‘And you’ve been so distant from me since you found out I was the despised Rod Bartlett.’

  No one could accuse her of being distant now! The whole lengths of their bodies were moulded together in the confines of the chair, and Keilly was finding it difficult to breathe with him so close to her. While he sat opposite her in the restaurant, or beside her in a car she could pretend his male magnetism didn’t exist, but alone with him like this she found it difficult not to remember the time on the beach when only the storm raging overhead had broken them apart.

  ‘Why did you change your mind about coming out with me tonight?’

  His hand was caressing her cheek, making it difficult for her to think at all, yet alone of a viable answer for him; she couldn’t admit to the truth. ‘Isn’t it a woman’s prerogative?’ she dismissed, wishing he would stop touching her.

  His mouth quirked, very close to her now, his breath warming her cheek. ‘I never knew one who didn’t.’

  ‘And you’ve known a lot, haven’t you,’ she scorned.

  ‘Keilly,’ his hand was firm on her chin as he turned her to face him. ‘I can’t relive my life and make it all neat and tidy for you,’ he told her quietly. ‘I’ve made mistakes, done things I’m not proud of, but I can’t change any of that now. It’s gone, and there is nothing I can do about it.’

  No, even if he could ever explain his relationship with Veronica, as he had told her he would one day do, he could never change the fact that he had once made love to Kathy and then let her down. She was a fool to be seduced by his closeness now, and yet she couldn’t help it…

  ‘Oh, Keilly!’ His mouth claimed hers fiercely as he pushed her back into the chair, his body hard and possessive on hers.

  She was lost again, as she knew she always would be when he touched or kissed her. She should never have been stupid enough to come back to the cottage with him like this, but it was too late now, too
late…

  His hands restlessly roamed the length of her body, not touching her intimately, seeming to wait for some signal from her that he could do so, continuing to kiss her, his tongue probing the edge of her lips. Of its own volition her tongue moved to meet his. It seemed to be what he had been waiting for, groaning deeply in his throat as his body surged into hers.

  As his hand closed over her breast she knew she had to stop this, couldn’t let things go any further between them if she were to leave here at all tonight. ‘Please stop,’ she groaned her panic, pushing lightly against his chest as he seemed not to hear her.

  The feel of her hands penetrated when her words had not, and he raised his head to look down at her with darkened eyes.

  ‘Please stop,’ she repeated as she saw his puzzled expression.

  He drew in a controlling breath. ‘You’re sure that’s what you want?’

  When he held her like this, the evidence of his passion throbbing against her, she was no longer sure of anything any more. But she had to be, had to remember she was only with him at all to divert his thoughts from Kathy. ‘I’m sure,’ she said firmly, getting up out of the chair to straighten her hair. ‘I’d like to go home now.’

  Rod looked up at her with a rueful smile, his hair rakishly disordered. ‘It hasn’t been a very successful evening, has it.’

  ‘For whom?’

  His brows rose at her sarcasm, and he too stood up. ‘For you,’ he chided gently. ‘I’ll have to remember in future that you don’t like to be among crowds, and that bringing you back here is definitely out,’ he added wryly.

  Keilly flushed. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to be very busy the next few weeks getting the hotel spring-cleaned for the start of the season at Easter. My aunt always likes everywhere to be thoroughly cleaned before we get really busy.’

  ‘But not every night too, surely?’

  She flashed him an irritated look. ‘For a while, yes.’

  ‘Does that mean I won’t be able to see you?’ His eyes narrowed.

  She didn’t like the way he suddenly seemed suspicious, almost as if he suspected her motives for seeing him tonight. ‘I’ll still get my days off,’ she explained. ‘Although I’m not sure when they will be,’ she added warningly.