Her Man with Iceberg Eyes Read online

  He looked forward to the vineyard party with extra enjoyment now, picturing her tall body in a slide of wine-red fabric—heavy, shining, figure-hugging. The dress she’d seen in her dreams. In his, too, by the sound of it.

  She had dynamite legs; he’d enjoyed them in the spa-room the previous evening when he’d gotten a quick glimpse before she submersed herself. Not to mention a couple of hours ago in the studio. Yes, a long split skirt to show them off.

  Friends would notice her and start speculating immediately. They’d all want to know more, and be curious as hell. He grinned to himself. It was time they thought he had a new woman, even though the truth might be far from that.

  It was a long time since he’d felt so attracted. Kate had appeared like a flash of lightning through a thunderous sky—so desirable he could barely keep away. He needed her as an employee, but he also wanted her as a woman.

  Dangerous choice, he muttered to himself. Was she the bait in a honey-trap? She wouldn’t be the first pretty woman sent to distract a man while making off with his secrets.

  He’d trusted his ex-wife, Martine. Loved her. Thought she’d loved him. Had never seen the sting coming. Ever since then, his electronic security arrangements had been extreme.

  He’d call Sy Karlsen and ask him to check Kate out. He’d scan that CV for starters, and email it off. Sy was a discreet and thorough investigator. If Kate Pleasance had things to hide, Sy would lay them bare. And in the meantime, Matthew decided he’d pursue her for the pure pleasure of it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Once he’d left, Kate prowled along the main hallway and slipped into Matthew’s study. She peered between all the cabinets, and anywhere else he could have hidden the big sketches. She found nothing.

  She quickly searched the luxurious sitting room, although she found it an unlikely hiding place. Nothing. Except memories of a pleasant evening, and the knowing look he’d given her when he caught her inspecting him. Again, she felt the delicious heat flowing through her; the ridiculous craving and edgy excitement.

  Get back to the job in hand, Kate!

  There were no sketches in the magnificent dining room, either.

  Bedrooms, then? She peeked into the room next to hers where Diana and Hamish had slept. Nothing under the big bed. Nothing in the generous walk-in wardrobe. Nothing in any of the drawers. Or in the en suite bathroom.

  Nothing in her own room, naturally.

  Nothing in the two bedrooms further along the hallway.

  Nothing even remotely resembling sketches in the chilly storeroom, although the racks of wine were impressive, and she found skis and snowboards, and all manner of other things there.

  Could he have deviously hidden them up in the studio? She trod up the densely carpeted stairs and peered around. Lord—that was a mission...

  She crossed to Lottie’s bedroom, ostensibly to check on her wellbeing.

  “Would you like any more coffee? Or anything?”

  “Ach, Katie—you’re a good girl. No thank you. Just dinner when it’s ready. How is that painting looking now?”

  Kate grimaced. “Very different from the sketches Matthew did.”

  Lottie grinned at her expression. “I never saw the second one. How was it?”

  “I’ll see if I can find the pad for you,” she said, pleased to have an excuse to dig around. But a further search amongst the mess brought no result.

  She returned downstairs, hurried to the front of the house, and checked for any sign of him returning. The long driveway was empty.

  There were no sketches hidden in the wonderfully appointed gym where very hot scenes featuring a bare-chested Matthew floated through her mind and would not be erased.

  The spa-room and changing room weren’t really options, although she glanced quickly into each.

  So that left only the main bedroom, and now her search was getting far too personal. She hesitated by the half open door, breathing fast, heart lurching and fluttering as though she’d just run for miles. Then she took two quick steps inside, pushed the door almost closed, and tried hard to concentrate. This was where he slept, where he showered, where he made love. Where the scent of him lingered.

  It was a huge calm silver-grey room with silky black curtains and a very large bed with a throw of the same glossy fabric. Kate crouched and peered underneath. It was low to the floor. Nothing.

  There were black lacquered chests set either side of the bed. Not big enough to conceal the sketches. She hesitated, fingers caressing one of the drawer-pulls, wondering if she dared to open it. Wanting to open it and share a little more of his life. But perhaps this was Lottie’s side of the bed? The clock-radio and empty coffee mug on top gave no clue. The other chest had nail scissors, a hank of ribbon, and a box wrapped in birthday paper. Sighing, she turned away, resolved not to spy unnecessarily.

  Her gaze drifted to two comfortable armchairs set by floor-to-ceiling glass doors in front of a sunny terrace. A table between them held magazines, books and framed photographs.

  She bent to see better. A younger Hamish and Diana with boys and dogs. Matthew, Lottie, and a small, dark-haired child. The same small boy again, close-up, held in masculine arms. Lottie beautifully dressed at a formal ceremony. Matthew, impassive behind sunglasses, lounging against a small plane.

  She touched the glass with a trembling finger, sliding over his face, down his body, all the way to his booted feet. Felt the arousing sensations that even a photo of him caused.

  You don’t like him. You don’t want him. He’s not available. He’s nothing but an arrogant tease.

  She made herself turn away and scan the huge walk-through wardrobe for anything that could be his sketches. Nothing—unless they were concealed in the travel bags on the topmost rack, which seemed unlikely.

  She turned back to the table. Whose was the child? She’d not detected any sign of children in the house, nor heard any mention. She stole another look at the photos, intrigued and confused. The small dark-haired boy looked nothing like Hamish and Diana’s sons. But was that Matthew’s Rolex just visible below the cuff of the shirt? Could Matthew have a son somewhere?

  She jumped as the telephone shrilled. Not wanting to be in such a private space for a second longer than needed, she raced back to the living room to answer it.

  “Kate, it’s Diana. Is Matthew there?”

  “Can I ask him to phone you back? Or you could try his mobile? He’s out, but not for too much longer.”

  “Well, it’s just about the movie tonight. The new James Bond thing. He gave us tickets for the charity premiere and I wanted to ask a couple of questions.”

  “I’ll tell him you rang.”

  “How’s Lottie doing?”

  “She’s gone to bed, very sensibly. But she says she’s going on some sort of visit tomorrow. She seems good, but I don’t know her well yet of course.”

  “If she’s in bed, she won’t be going to the premiere. Will you come with us? Shame to waste a hundred dollar seat?”

  Kate sighed, tempted to spend more time with such pleasant people. “I’ve nothing fancy to wear.”

  Diana chuckled. “Lord, it’s not a dress-up deal! Only a movie. No sequins required.”

  “Well, okay. Maybe. I’ll get Matthew to phone you as soon as he’s back.”

  The distant rumble of the garage door signalled his return a few minutes later. He loped in to the kitchen where Kate was making coffee, and dumped several packages onto the dark green marble counter.

  The moment he entered the room, her body screamed into emergency mode. She found it impossible to ignore him, feeling him intruding on her personal space even from several feet away. “Diana phoned about your movie tonight,” she said.

  He looked blank for a moment. “Oh, the charity thing? That’s crept up faster than I expected. Tonight?”

  Kate nodded. “Apparently. I said you’d get back to her.”

  “Damn... so much for a leisurely dinner.” He grabbed his phone. “Di? Kate said you rang
?”

  She watched him in profile. Thick dark lashes, long nose with its imperfectly mended break, beetling black brows over ever-alert eyes, the uncompromising jut of his jaw, the hard ridge of his cheekbone. Nothing soft anywhere. Totally male. A tough face apart from those surprisingly lush eyelashes.

  “Yes, of course she will,” Kate heard. “We’ll see you there at a quarter to.”

  She watched as he set a plateful of last night’s leftover curry and rice to heat in the microwave oven.

  “Can you make some more of that salad?” he asked, opening the fridge and retrieving a part bottle of wine.

  “For Lottie?”

  “Gets her out of the way. We’ve lost a bit of time with that movie.”

  Kate complied, and took the tray upstairs. By the time she returned, Matthew had fried rice under way in a wok and pungent chilli sizzling in a pan. A pile of huge tiger prawns awaited transformation, and he’d poured two glasses of wine.

  “How’s she feeling now?” he threw over his shoulder.

  “Well enough to tackle food, anyway. Asking for you.”

  He grimaced at that. “Better do it right now. Can you keep an eye on this?” He banged his stirring spoon against the side of the wok and laid it on a chopping board. “And deal to these?” he suggested, indicating the bags of bok choy, bean-sprouts and celery on the counter.

  So he was quite domesticated? Kate wondered about that as she stirred and chopped. Would it be his first wife’s influence, or Lottie’s? Probably the wife who’d bought him the beautiful gold chain. The wife he’d described as ‘wrong’. Lottie seemed not to have an ounce of kitchen pride to judge by the filthy dishes upstairs. Although the curry had been delicious... Her speculations swirled around until Matthew bounded back in. “Nothing but drama,” he muttered, tipping the prawns into the pan where they hissed and sizzled.

  “Who taught you to cook?” she asked.

  “Me.”

  It was such a cold and uncompromising answer that she turned away and took cutlery to the table. The same table where, a little earlier, her butt had made a spectacular statement in his artwork. Moments later, he set her hot and fragrant requested dinner down in front of her.

  “Thank you—this looks...delicious,” she said, trying not to sound too grateful.

  He turned away, and returned with the two glasses of wine.

  By then she’d torn the tail off a succulent prawn and popped it into her mouth.

  His quicksilver gaze sought and held hers. “You’ll come to the movie with me?”

  Not a request, she noted. A statement. Again.

  She swallowed. “The premiere tonight? Maybe.”

  One corner of his mouth kicked up, and he reached for one of his own prawns. “I don’t see Lottie managing the cinema stairs in her present condition.”

  Kate smirked to herself. She’d be safe enough with him in a big crowd like that. She tore the tail off another prawn, licking her fingers as the juice spurted out. Matthew’s eyes followed her every move.

  “You can’t eat these with a knife and fork,” she protested.

  He shook his head, agreeing.

  “Or chopsticks,” she added.

  “I’m pleased to see you enjoying them.” He reached toward her chin as though to touch it.

  She reared back out of his reach. “Don’t do things like that,” she snapped.

  “Boyfriend a bit too recent?” he asked.

  Wife a bit too close, she thought. “Something along those lines,” she murmured.

  Matthew leaned back in his chair with a broad grin. He could wait if he had to. He was good at waiting. He had unlimited patience when it came to solving intriguing problems, and Kate intrigued him beyond measure.

  Kate walked automatically to the passenger door of the SUV, but Matthew called her back. “Round the other way. We’ll take the car tonight.”

  She’d glimpsed a racy red vehicle on the other side of the big garage and taken no particular notice of it, assuming it to be Lottie’s.

  “You rather suit each other,” he added as he handed her in to the passenger seat of his very new, very powerful Alpha Romeo.

  Kate tugged her skirt down and inhaled. The expensive upholstery smelled divine.

  Matthew reached for the seatbelt and squatted beside the low-slung car to fasten it for her. He leaned inside, invading her space outrageously, and his own scent wafted through the air, even more enticing than the luxurious leather.

  “I can do that, thanks,” she said, trying to fend him off.

  “I’m sure you can,” he murmured, taking no notice and gliding the belt down over her breasts and clicking it into place. “But I wouldn’t want you coming to any harm while you’re in my care, Katie.”

  His face stayed only inches away. His dangerous wonderful mouth was so easily within reach again. His eyes laughed at her discomfort. It was all Kate could do not to lean forward that tiny distance and bite him with furious longing.

  Matthew trailed his big hand from her hip, along her thigh to her knee. He gave it a hint of a squeeze as he stood again to push the door shut. The moment he’d gone, Kate wanted him back, no matter that it could lead nowhere. She dared not have him. She was desperate to touch him. She had to resist...

  Her defences were crumbling to dust.

  The sleek scarlet car purred and roared and spat as he wound it up to high speed on the long straight before the main road. Every corner of Kate’s body throbbed, although was it from the sexy car or the sexy man?

  He wore a hand-tailored dark suit, a snowy shirt, and a misty grey tie. Conservative. Expensive. Devastating.

  He’d recently shaved, and his short hair still looked shower-damp. She longed to reach out and ruffle it up, comb her fingers through it, and scrape her nails lightly down his neck.

  In the pulsing darkness of the car, she drank him in while he concentrated on the road.

  She’d worn her cream suit and the black shirt he’d ‘persuaded’ her to buy. When she’d appeared, he’d subjected her to a thorough and appreciative inspection, and said, “Better than the chocolate.” Kate knew he was right. The black set off her skin and hair the way the chocolate never would have.

  His photographer’s sense was acute. The details of the house were totally his. The unexpected flashes of colour in clever juxtaposition to each other, the skilful arrangements of the wonderful pieces of art, the fittings and finishes in every room...all Matthew, all superb, all the result of his sharp and clever eyes.

  She hoped she met his standards, whatever they were. She’d pulled her hair up in an elegant twist, out of the way of his long exploring fingers, and applied her makeup lightly but with care. Yes, it was only a movie, and they’d be sitting in the dark, but she had her standards, too. “Are you sure Lottie will be all right without us?” she asked as he eased off the accelerator before the main road.

  “She’s safe enough in bed. It’s only for a couple of hours, Katie. Relax and enjoy some time off.”

  Relax? With him?

  But being dressed up, transported in such a slinky car, and looked after by a man whose every glance suggested extreme pleasure could be hers if she’d only say yes, was certainly no hardship.

  “So what’s this movie?”

  “The latest 007. Guns, girls, gadgets. One of the service clubs is raising money for things. Child cancer research from memory.”

  He fell suddenly and unnervingly silent.

  Awareness flooded through her. Was that what had happened to the boy in the photo? The little dark-haired boy who was possibly his son? There was no way she could ask—Matthew had never mentioned him. She’d only discovered him by spying.

  “You can enjoy the girls and I’ll enjoy James then,” she said as lightly as she could.

  “Your sort of man, is he? Vicious? Dangerous? Single-minded?”

  “In your dreams.”

  She saw the snowy flash of his teeth as Matthew smiled. They were into the town now, and the streetlight
s slid long shadows and bright moving pools of gold over the car’s interior.

  “You should have worn that chain with your shirt,” he said.

  “It’s in my room. I meant to give it back to you, but the day took some interesting twists.”

  “Agreed.”

  She shot him a suspicious glance. What did he mean? “So?”

  His face remained innocence itself. “You’re on a fairly difficult mission, Katie.”

  “Well, I’m only on it for a few more days.”

  “More’s the pity. Never mind, we’ll make the most of them.” He slowed to a crawl and pressed the button on a remote control unit before turning into an alleyway. “Not the sort of car you leave out on the street at night, if you can avoid it,” he added as a warehouse door rumbled open and lights flickered on.

  Kate caught her breath. Waves of apprehension skittered up her spine. She hadn’t expected this. “Where are we?”

  “A little place I own. Nice and central for parking. We lived upstairs while the house was being built.”

  “Not so little,” she said, relaxing slightly and gazing around.

  “Space for Lottie to paint. And to store the furniture and fittings we collected for the house. I don’t use it for much, now. Hamish has a remote, too.”

  Right on cue, another vehicle rolled inside.

  The door crept slowly down again as he and Kate climbed out of the Alpha. “You going to be warm enough?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Is it far?”

  “How’s Sis?” Hamish asked her before Matthew could answer. “Driving you mad yet?”

  Kate prickled hot and cold, suddenly alight with suspicion. Could he mean Lottie?

  She swallowed.

  Sis?

  If Matthew and Lottie were not man and wife, that put a totally different spin on things. Made an affair between him and herself possible—and even more impossible.

  “She...um...insisted on starting a painting as soon as we arrived home.”