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He had finally got around to kissing her again and Nora had yawned! Worse still, instead of being offended or annoyed, he had laughed….
Nora groaned more deeply into the pillow, pounding it with her fists and kicking her feet against the confines of the top sheet, which had been tangled into damp skeins by her sweaty, dream-shot night.
Her mini tantrum over, she went into the bathroom, opening the frosted window, the better to enjoy the chorus of bird-song and the earthy scent of the bush while she brushed her teeth. Her mouth was full of foam when she heard the rumble of a high-performance engine floating up through the window. Was that the TVR in the driveway? She doubted Blake would be sneaking off to church!
She rinsed her mouth and gave her face a smear with a dampened flannel, running her fingers through her wildly kinked hair as she hurried out to the stairs. She flew down the first flight, her bare feet silent on the thick carpet, and came to a skidding halt by the rail on the landing as she saw Blake with his back to her, one arm braced high against the open front door and security grille, greeting someone crossing the entry bridge. The back of his head was still bed-ruffled, he was barefoot, the belt of his black jeans dangling from the tabs at his hip, and—why hadn’t he put on a shirt? His room was at the front corner of the house…He must have dashed down here as soon as he heard the car.
Nora crept forward for a better view, sidling up to a large ornamental urn stuffed with dried flowers so that she could see but not be seen.
The car was a late-model silver Mercedes convertible, the driver a very late-model blonde, her generous curves shrink-wrapped in a glittery pink crop-top and black leather miniskirt. Her sequinned pink high-heeled sandals matched the wide leather belt that cinched her waist and her long straight hair was razor-cut to frame a youthful face boldly made up to seem older. From the way she was smiling as she stepped off the bridge on to the tiled porch she was supremely sure of her welcome. Was this one of Kate MacLeod’s notorious twins?
‘Hi, Blake.’ The greeting was accompanied by a coy wiggle of coral-tipped fingers. Having got to the doorstep and finding that he wasn’t stepping aside, the wattage of the smile increased. ‘Surprise, surprise!’ She placed her fingertips on Blake’s chest and walked them provocatively up towards his unshaven chin. ‘Happy to see me?’
Whoa!
Not very niecely behaviour, Nora fumed, watching Blake jerk his head back and catch the wandering fingers in his free hand.
‘What are you doing here, Hayley?’ His voice was neutral but Nora’s straining ears detected a hint of deep unease.
The young woman gave a throaty laugh that made Nora revise her age up a few years. ‘We had a date last night and you didn’t show. It was a fantastic party, too; you really missed some fun.’ She pouted a playful lower lip, slick with gloss, to show there were no hard feelings. ‘I was so disappointed, but when Uncle Prescott explained all the pressure you were under and told me you’d snuck away for the weekend I realised that you just weren’t in the party mood.’
Uncle Prescott? Nora’s brain went on red alert. Hayley was the niece of Blake’s boss? And she and Blake had been dating?
‘Poor Blake,’ Hayley was commiserating, snuggling up to his side with a nauseatingly kittenish air. ‘Uncle Prescott said he was sure you didn’t mean to let me down—you know how he likes to see me happy—so I decided to give you another chance. I thought I’d come and provide you with my special brand of stress relief….’
The kind of ‘relief’ she was talking about was obvious from the way her hand was creeping up Blake’s thigh.
Nora’s suspicions went ballistic. A red mist covered her vision and for a moment she thought she was going to be sick. For the first time she faced the real truth about her feelings for Blake. The dangerous attraction she had felt from the moment she first saw him wasn’t just physical, but her painfully mixed up emotions had refused to believe she could have fallen for him so completely, so fast. Even when she had mistrusted his motives, she had still respected him and, yes, admired the fierce commitment he brought to everything, whether it be his lovemaking or his ruthless pursuit of his goals.
Only maybe his real goal was marrying the boss’s niece!
At least this resolved any question of his paternity, she thought sickly. If Prescott Williams was keen on promoting a match between Blake and Hayley, then Blake couldn’t be his son.
The red mist became a fog of fury. Kelly and Hayley—two spoilt young madams, both nieces of men who could pull company strings for their lovers!
Silently Nora fled back up the stairs and ducked into the first room she came upon—Blake’s bedroom. Her wrathful gaze fell on the racks of clothes in the huge open wardrobe and her mouth curved in a vicious smile. She tore off her nightie and threw it on to the unmade bed. Naked but for her cotton briefs, she stormed over to the wardrobe and pulled a crisp white business shirt off its wooden hanger. She twisted it in savage fists and dragged the crumpled result on, rolling up the cuffed sleeves to her elbows and fastening five of the small pearlised buttons that marched down over her midriff. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror next to the bathroom door and undid the top button to reveal more cleavage. Leaning in to the mirror, she pinched roughly at her cheeks and chewed at her bottom lip. Her hair was sufficiently wild not to need any help in looking as if she had just climbed out of a passion pit!
Barely a couple of minutes had passed and when she reached the top of the stairs again she could hear the murmured conversation still going on at the door.
Let him talk himself out of this!
She took a deep breath that cleared some of the choking rage from her throat. Then she called out, using the sugar-sweet whine she had heard Kelly use when she wanted to twist a man around her manicured finger.
‘Bla-ake! Where are you? Come on, Babycakes, what’s taking you so long? You must have got rid of whoever it was by now!’
She heard the muted talk downstairs come to a sudden halt. ‘Bla-ake! I’m getting cold and the champagne is getting warm!’ she sang in a sexy lilt.
Dead silence. Nora began to trip down the stairs, changing her voice to a teasing sing-song. ‘Oh, Bla-ake! Are we playing another of your kinky games of hide and seek? Then…coming, ready or no-ot!’ she trilled, making the familiar playground call sound wickedly adult.
‘Oh!’ She came to a sudden stop halfway down the final flight, one hand on the railing, the other covering her open mouth as she pretended to see the couple below for the first time. They were still standing in the doorway, Blake holding both of Hayley’s hands in his.
‘Oh, dear,’ Nora gurgled. ‘I didn’t realise there was someone still here! I’m sorry, Blake. Have I let the cat out of the bag? I know we weren’t supposed to let anyone know I was here….’
She waited expectantly for him to explode, but instead he appeared to be transfixed by shock as Hayley wrenched her hands out of his and said shrilly, ‘Who’s she? Why isn’t anyone supposed to know? What’s going on, Blake?’
‘Yes, aren’t you going to introduce us, Blake?’ simpered Nora, slinking down the last few steps and sauntering up beside him.
‘I don’t think so,’ he said with a tight-lipped grimness that gave her spiteful pleasure.
