Her Man with Iceberg Eyes Read online

  Her Man with Iceberg Eyes

  Kris Pearson

  Kate Pleasance is on her best behavior. Matthew McLeod is certainly not. She really needs the job he’s interviewing her for. He totally wants the unexpected candidate in his bed.

  But is Kate spying for her famous father? Should Matthew trust her in the least?

  Join them in the New Zealand alpine resort of Queenstown, famous for its daredevil extreme sports.

  Will Kate dare? And is Matthew really the devil he seems to be?

  Smashwords Edition

  For more information about this author, visit http://www.krispearson.com/

  Love and thanks to Philip for the covers, and the unfailing encouragement and computer un-snarling. And to my writer friends Diana Fraser, Shirley Wine, and Serenity Woods – the ‘Passion in Paradise’ team.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is co-incidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by Kris Pearson

  Cover design © by Philip Pearson

  Cover photograph dreamstimes.com

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Kate Pleasance scrolled through the online job ads for the morning, and stopped when SUPERWOMAN WANTED jumped out at her. Could she be a superwoman? She huffed out a sigh. She’d been pretty damn super for the last three months!

  With nothing to lose, she emailed her CV and a slightly cheeky letter. She was exactly ready for a different life—away from the sad memories of her mother, and far away from all the people and places she’d known when she was Simon’s partner. This definitely sounded different—something she could get her teeth into and distract herself with—and in New Zealand’s most famous alpine resort, too.

  As she alighted from the commuter jet a bare week later, the biting June air seeped through her cream Merino suit jacket, through her camisole, into her very skin. From the plane, Queenstown had looked deceptively summery—blue sky from edge to edge—even though there was an icing-sugar dusting of snow on the surrounding mountains. She’d left sixteen degrees at home, way to the north in Auckland. Here it was a crisp and shimmering eight.

  She scanned the arrivals lounge where other passengers were greeting friends and relatives. Charlotte had said she’d be there to meet Kate, but what did Charlotte look like?

  Not like the elderly lady in the blue hat. It hadn’t been a quavery old voice on the phone.

  Hopefully not like the harassed-looking woman with the screaming child— although she certainly seemed in need of a helpful companion.

  And certainly not like the tall dark man with his head down, studying something. They were the only people who’d not claimed their passengers yet. Perhaps Charlotte was still finding somewhere to park her car? Kate strode resolutely on.

  Matthew compressed his lips and lifted his eyes from the photograph clipped to the CV. That had to be the Pleasance girl in the cream suit. The photo showed a pale young woman with her dark hair pulled back and pinned up. She stared primly into the camera lens—trying to look businesslike, he supposed. Trying to look innocuous enough to gain access to his home where she could spy for her ruthless father, more like!

  He saw now that she was unusually tall, moved with easy grace, and had hair right out of a shampoo ad—thick, glossy, and flowing down past her shoulders today. His fingers twitched at its imagined softness and warmth. Scheming bitch! The severe CV photo certainly didn’t do justice to candidate number three. For the interview, she was apparently turning on all her feminine wiles in an effort to put him and Lottie off their guard.

  He reached out and touched her arm as she moved past.

  “Kate Pleasance?”

  Kate whirled around, dislodging his hand. Obviously he expected her if he knew her name. So who was he? And where was Charlotte?

  He was tall, so she relaxed a fraction. At five-eleven she constantly disguised her height; at least she didn’t have to do her telescoping act with this unknown man. But he had curiously hostile eyes. Silver-blue and somehow menacing. If he was here to greet her, why did he seem less than welcoming?

  “Matthew McLeod,” he said, thrusting out a hand.

  For her to shake? Or to take her luggage? Kate put her overnight bag down. He chose her hand, not the bag. His handshake was warm and firm—almost too hard. Better than a jellyfish ‘soft-for-a-lady’ effort though, she thought, returning part of his masculine pressure.

  “Lottie broke her ankle this morning,” he said. “I’ve left her at the hospital. Okay with you if we go straight back there?”

  Lottie? Charlotte? Kate supposed so. She nodded, summoning up a concerned expression for the woman she’d never met, but hoped to be working for.

  Matthew scooped up her bag and indicated the terminal doors with a nod. Kate found that even with her long legs she had to bustle to keep pace with his uncompromising stride.

  The winter sun was low and dazzling. She gained no further impression of Charlotte’s husband except height and dark hair until they were seated in his big mud-spattered silver SUV. She tried not to stare, but no matter how firmly she instructed her eyes to look away, they insisted on taking sneaky peeks at him.

  He was somewhere between thirty-five and forty, with a wide sensual mouth and deep smile lines etched either side of it. A mouth she could imagine quirking humorously, snarling with displeasure, or kissing like the devil. It was set in a lean and battered outdoor face with few other traces of softness.

  His long nose had been broken sometime in the past and imperfectly reset. His hair was almost army-short. Not a man to pick a fight with. Yet undeniably sexy if you liked hard, arrogant men.

  She didn’t. Definitely not. That’s what her head said. But something deep inside her responded to him, dammit. She decided to put it down to too much worry and too little sex. No sex for several months—enough to make a girl very antsy when faced with a prime specimen like Matthew McLeod. Thank God, he was off the menu.

  “Are you clumsy?” he threw sideways at her.

  “Is this part of the job interview?” Kate demanded, somewhat taken aback.

  He surprised her by laughing—a deep husky chuckle which buzzed right through to her bones.

  “Well, you’ve got a bit more spirit than the other hopefuls. They were disappointingly polite.”

  She allowed herself a small smile, and relaxed very slightly. She had no idea how to reply.

  “No—not part of the job interview,” he continued. “But Lottie’s clumsy. Bad balance. She went for a skid by the pond this morning and fell onto the rock garden. Hence the broken ankle. Concussed herself too, possibly.”

  “I hope this won’t be a wasted visit for you then,” Kate murmured, still amazed the McLeods had paid for her to travel so far south for the interview. And Matthew had mentioned ‘other hopefuls’, so several airfares had apparently been provided. She wondered what the chances were she could get the job.

  “Lottie liked you on the phone.”

  Kate sensed he’d weighed his words carefully. Only sensible in this sort of situation, but she wished she could get some sort of handle on him. Maybe he’d taken an instant dislike to her? Perhaps he’d do everything possible to ensure she wouldn’t be the successful job seeker? She was much less comfortable with him than she’d been during her phone call with Charlotte. There was…definite wariness emanating from him. She watch
ed him draw a deep breath.

  “I can tell you a bit more now I’ve met you,” he continued, glancing across as he slowed to let another car pull out.

  Kate had never seen eyes so hypnotic. Bright as rushing water... or icy winter sky. She felt helplessly ensnared—like some poor struggling animal in a trap. It was impossible to look away. Not because it would seem impolite, but because he somehow had her under his control. She didn’t like that sensation at all, and shifted restlessly in her seat. Her former slight sense of relaxation had entirely disappeared. Now she was truly edgy.

  “We put her name in the ad as Charlotte McLeod, which it legally is,” Matthew said. “But you might know her better as Lottie Janssen?”

  It took only a few seconds for the name to register. “The painter! Oh goodness...” For the moment, Kate could find no other words. Lottie Janssen was famous far beyond her New Zealand homeland. Kate had seen a TV documentary about her a few months previously. Lottie’s huge angry landscapes sold almost exclusively in London and Amsterdam for prices that made most people gasp.

  “The painter indeed,” Matthew said dryly. “She loses herself in her painting. Doesn’t look after herself well enough. I’m away from home a lot, so we need a sort of lady’s companion—although nothing that prissy.” He checked the rear view mirror for a second and changed lanes. “A minder. An organiser. A Personal Assistant and much more. Someone to feed her if she forgets...to go for supplies...keep her functional. Be her chauffeur sometimes. Pick her up if she falls over, too, it would seem.” He shot her another searching look. “We have a weekly cleaner, so there’s no drudgery. Lottie needs a mother hen. Able to take over her correspondence and admin and leave her free to paint. The ad covered most of it. And her phone call, I suppose. Have I managed to put you off?”

  Kate shook her head. “I’m bowled over.”

  “She is... a rather daunting task,” Matthew continued. “We need absolutely the right person. Strong but subtle?” He locked eyes with her again. “Would you be strong but subtle, Miss Pleasance?”

  He’d raised the hairs on the back of her neck with his simple query. Most of her seemed to be in turmoil. Her nipples had peaked (with the cold, surely) and butterflies looped the loop in her stomach. She clasped her hands together in her lap so she wouldn’t pick nervously at the cuticles. How had he done this?

  “I’ve had to be pretty resourceful in the past,” she replied, braving his very direct gaze again. “It’s time for a big change in my life. I thought this sounded ideal—things I can do, and some new tasks, too. I’d like the chance...?”

  He nodded, apparently satisfied for the moment, and returned his attention to the traffic. He said nothing more, leaving Kate to wonder what sort of an impression she’d made so far.

  She wanted the job very much. It would be like escaping into fresh air... a new start after months of horrible turmoil. Now she knew Charlotte’s real identity, it added an exciting twist to the situation. There might be overseas travel involved; that hadn’t been mentioned during the phone call.

  She’d instantly liked Charlotte—enjoyed her enthusiastic, slightly foreign way of speaking and her big sudden laugh. She’d felt comfortable chatting with her, but was much less sure of herself with Matthew. With Charlotte in hospital, Matthew might be the one to decide her future. And Kate was curiously uneasy in his brooding presence.

  He turned into the parking lot at the District Hospital, and the sun slanted through the window onto his hands. Huge capable hands, with long fingers and a smattering of inky hair disappearing up inside his sleeves.

  Her internal muscles gave a disconcerting twitch of pleasure and she blinked with surprise.

  No, no, no, Kate—that’s not the deal at all.

  But she couldn’t quite banish the thought of those big hands stroking her skin, touching, caressing.

  She forced herself to relax back into the comfortable seat again until he drew to a halt. Matthew was obviously not available. She’d keep her vivid scenarios safely locked away in her brain—and what harm would a little fantasising do?

  But there was something—his confidence, or his direct probing gaze, or his long lithe body—that had her hormones humming. She smiled softly as she emerged from the SUV, assuming it was because Simon had been out of her life for three months now. She’d spent all of that time physically and mentally exhausted, but the first stirrings of sensuality were definitely returning—and they felt delicious.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Matthew led the way briskly along the antiseptic-scented corridor, then stood aside for Kate to enter Lottie’s room ahead of him. She moved hesitantly forward—she’d seen too much of hospitals while her mother’s life drew to its sad end. Sat too long in waiting rooms and the final hospice room filled with flowers and hopeful cards.

  She was relieved to see Lottie looked plump cheeked and peaceful, with long red-blond hair plaited into a thick braid draping over one shoulder of the pale blue hospital gown. “I think she’s sound asleep,” Kate whispered. “Don’t wake her.”

  She watched as Matthew stroked a tender finger over one side of Lottie’s forehead, avoiding the dressing over what must be a nasty bump. The patient didn’t stir.

  “Probably best,” he said, glancing across. “She was hurting quite a lot. Come and we’ll get some lunch and try again later. Or did they feed you on the plane?”

  Kate shook her head. “Only a couple of biscuits.”

  In fact she had been so jittery, she’d had no breakfast either. The job interview had been on her mind for several days. It was a wonderful chance to start a new life, and she’d fussed around, wanting everything to be as perfect as possible, until she heard the taxi’s imperious hoot and dashed out unfed.

  “Right— there’s a cheerful Italian place here you might like. Do you know Queenstown well?”

  “Hardly at all,” she admitted, wondering if this would count against her.

  “I’ll give you a quick tour on the way to lunch,” he said. “Lottie’ll be awake after that, with any luck.”

  They climbed back into the SUV and Matthew drove leisurely around the pretty resort town, pointing to items of interest, and sometimes pulling out of the traffic to give longer descriptions.

  “Lake Wakatipu—deepest lake in New Zealand,” he said, glancing across at the sparkling water. “They say the lake is as deep as the mountains are high.”

  Kate peered up at the surrounding crags.

  “So how deep then?”

  “No-one knows for certain. I suppose they’ll survey it all properly one day. They haven’t found the bottom in places.”

  She shivered, thinking how icy the water must be at such extreme depths.

  “While you’re here you must go for a cruise on the old Earnslaw,” he added, drawing her attention to the trim antique steamer.

  She nodded, wondering how such a large craft had found its way to the inland lake. “However did they get it here?”

  “By rail.”

  “It’s too big for that!”

  “Nope—by rail. I did some research to go with photos to celebrate her centenary. She was built in Dunedin, then they dismantled her and brought her to the far end of the lake by rail.”

  “And stuck her together again?” Kate could barely believe it possible.

  “Yup—reassembled her, launched her, and she’s been here a hundred years. Still going strong. She does several trips across to Walter Peak Station every day.” He sent her an amused glance. “That’s a high-country sheep station, not a railway station.”

  Kate glared at him. “I knew that.”

  “We’ve had visitors who didn’t.”

  “More fools them,” she snapped, and then worried she might have been offensive about his friends.

  Matthew appeared unruffled. “She’s said to be the oldest coal-fired passenger-carrying vessel still operating in the southern hemisphere. Quite a rarity.”

  Kate nodded, and inspected the little steamer with more i
nterest. The straight-bowed boat was more to her taste than the colourful cable cars that swung perilously up the opposite hill. She wasn’t fond of heights, but Queenstown was besotted with them. Everywhere she looked, travel shops and adventure depots promoted bungee jumps, helicopter flights, ski tours, and snowboarding trips.

  “What a crazy place this is,” she said. “Everyone after thrills.”

  “It’s where the town’s wealth comes from; the thousands of tourists who visit every year for the extreme sports. We couldn’t live without them.” He cast another amused look at her. “You could always go walking—is that safe enough for you?”

  Kate bristled. So now he thought her a wimp? She definitely needed to dispel that notion.

  “My boyfriend and I used to sail in Auckland,” she said in her defence. “The Waitemata’s a wonderful harbour.”

  “I know—I was at school up there. They let us loose in the little P-class yachts if we were lucky.”

  “His was rather bigger than that,” she said with satisfaction.

  “But you’re planning to leave him behind? Dragon lady are you?”

  She managed a good enough smile. “It’s falling apart. I’d rather have a quick end...”

  In fact it was Simon who’d left her, but Matthew definitely didn’t need to know that. She and Simon had planned to travel to London together and work. But her mother’s condition had finally been diagnosed just before they intended leaving, and then there was then no question of Kate departing right away.

  Yes, Simon had the new job, and no doubt wanted company in the huge new city, but she’d have waited longer than three months for him...

  Matthew sent her a speculative glance, wondering if perhaps her surname was only a co-incidence. Would she seriously come spying without assuming an alias when her real name was so damning?

  Was she indicating she was available? Interested? If there was no boyfriend in the picture, might she be willing to use her body to get what she wanted—always supposing she really was here at her father’s behest. She was beautiful. Had made his body hum in the most pleasurable way from the moment he’d laid eyes on her—even though he’d been most suspicious of her motives.