Her Man with Iceberg Eyes (12 page)

Dismissed, she resumed her walk to the
kitchen. She stowed the plates and glasses away, and the huge open
doors drew her outside. The weather was perfect. Cold, but so still
and sunny the air had no real bite.

She sat down in one of the outdoor chairs on
the wide paved terrace. The sun soaked into her shoulders, soothing
and warm. The ordeal of posing in the studio receded a little. She
supposed there’d have to be another session or two if Lottie asked,
but she’d make damned sure Matthew was nowhere around next
time.

And really, it was flattering to have been
chosen to model for such a famous artist. How thrilled her darling
mother would have been if she’d ever known.

Kate relaxed as she idly considered the
surprising offer Matthew had made. Was he serious? Anything so she
would stay? But even the enticement of huge wages...a trip around
the world...diamonds to die for...wouldn’t convince her to remain
where she’d found exactly what she wanted but could never have.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the sun and the
soft air.

A warm hand settled on her shoulder and she
jerked awake.

“Doing your Sleeping Beauty act again?”
Matthew asked.

She glanced at her watch, alarmed to find
she’d been dozing, and that almost an hour had disappeared. She
stifled a yawn as she tried to gather her wits about her.

“I thought you were coming back to the
office?”

She looked at him through half-closed eyes,
still trying to adjust to the bright light. He was more casually
dressed today. Soft old black jeans hugged his narrow hips and long
thighs. A dark grey ribbed jersey stretched across his chest and
shoulders. The collar of his shirt was visible, one button undone.
She wanted to undo the rest...see the rest...trace her fingers over
the whorls and curves of his extraordinary tattoo. Still barely
awake, she wondered if he and Lottie made use of the spa-pool every
evening.

Lottie! Kate had promised to wake her with
coffee. She rechecked her watch and pushed herself out of the
chair. “Sorry, I’m needed upstairs,” she declared.

Matthew narrowed his eyes. “I’m next in the
queue then. I have something to show you. Come back when you
can.”

She bolted. Absolutely bolted. Away from his
too-gorgeous body and his too-sharp eyes and his too-clever
hands.

But she’d had no need to panic. Lottie was
fine, awake but unworried. Kate set the promised coffee brewing and
sneaked another look at herself-as-countryside. The painting was
rough yet, but the bones of it were there. She wondered how much
more detail Lottie planned to add. Would she leave it loosely
daubed like a Toss Woolaston, or refine it until it was as polished
and perfect as a Grahame Sydney? Somewhere in between, she hoped.
The last thing she needed was to be rendered so photographically
perfect she was recognisable.

She took the coffee through to Lottie, asking
if she needed anything else.

“Can you tell Matthew dinner up here tonight?
I go to bed properly, I think—I have a visit to make tomorrow.”

Kate wondered if she should offer to help
with undressing.

“Rest of the day off for you,” Lottie said
cheerily, dismissing her with a wave of a paint-smeared hand and a
wide smile.

So it was back to see what Matthew
wanted.

She dawdled down the thickly carpeted stairs.
No wonder she hadn’t heard him approaching with their lunch. On the
landing, there was another vast window. Kate stopped and drank in
the perfectly framed view. Everything about this house had been
planned to please. How much of it was Matthew’s work? Lottie said
he’d designed the studio ‘all as I needed.’ He’d probably decreed
exactly where that range of jagged mountains sat in the
countryside, too.

Lottie might be a painter, but Matthew was a
draftsman. His meticulous recording of her body confirmed that. Her
skin prickled as she thought of the two big charcoal sketches.
Where were they now? She wanted desperately to have them safely in
her own possession. To keep them private for herself, because it
would be a travesty to destroy them.

She pondered how to retrieve his work as she
gazed out. The peaks were a soft grey-blue with a mantle of white
only along the higher ridges. They’d be magnificent after heavy
snow. Perhaps it had been a mild winter in Queenstown? New Zealand
was so long and narrow that farms could be snowed-over in nearby
Southland while the hibiscus bushes still flowered in the far
north.

Sighing, she resumed her descent. A descent
into hell, maybe. What sort of temptation or humiliation had he
lined up for her this time?

She wandered slowly, enjoying the magnificent
art collection as she progressed along the main hallway to his
study and peered in. There was no sign of him, but maybe he’d put
the sketches there? She took a few cautious steps into the big room
and glanced around. She had no idea where to start searching.

“Katie?”

She jumped as he came through the door.

His piercing gaze pinned her in place. “What
are you looking for?”

“You. You said to come back.” Had she
imagined it, or did his hard face relax a little?

“Come and have coffee. I’ve spread something
on the table. Needed more room.” He stretched out an arm, and she
flinched away from his grip.

No more touching, no more kissing. She’d see
he didn’t get within feet of her again.

She moved forward and he pulled the door
closed behind him. Kate had the definite feeling he hadn’t wanted
her in his study. The sketches must be there somewhere. Good to
know. Relief washed through her.

But worse awaited on the big timber table in
the living area. He’d laid out a sinuous design like a
many-chambered nautilus shell. A repeating pattern in assorted
colours, spiralling in and in, getting smaller and smaller toward
the centre.

She smiled. It was unusual and
eye-catching.

“Amazing what you can do with a computer
these days, isn’t it,” he said, leaning over her shoulder and
placing strong hands on the table edge either side. She bent a
little further to increase the distance between them.

“We could call it ‘Yours for a thong’.” She
heard the teasing laughter in his husky voice. With a sudden jolt,
she recognised her own body, manipulated, many-coloured, used as
patchwork to produce a totally different work of art. He’d
reproduced just her hips and the tiny panties—again and again.

“
You
stole the other Polaroid,” she
gasped, swinging around and fending him off. “I want that
destroyed. It’s embarrassing. It’s awful. I don’t want anyone to
see it. Please?”

She thrust out her hand imperiously, willing
him to give it back to her. She shook with rage. Matthew parted his
lips.

“
Now,
” she snapped, beating him to
it.

“Katie...”

“
Right
now.”

He swung around and strode back to the study.
She raced along behind. He raised the lid of a scanner; the photo
lay there. Kate snatched it up, ripped it in half and then in half
again.

“And I want it out of your hard drive, and
wiped off anything you’ve transferred it to.” She stood tall,
trembling, absolutely outraged. How could he just treat her like
meat?

“Katie, I was only having a bit of fun. You
inspired me. I thought the finished result was great,
actually.”

“Well, it wasn’t
actually
your
backside, Matthew. Why couldn’t you at least ask? Did you really
think I needed one more dose of humiliation? Are you so used to
getting what you want with all your money? Didn’t you think at
all?”

He placed his hands carefully on her
shoulders. She flinched but stood her ground, staring straight into
his eyes, and praying she’d be able to keep her gaze level.

“Katie, I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.
I...maybe...didn’t think at all. I certainly didn’t want to hurt
you. But you’re beautiful—I enjoyed playing with you.”

The apology sounded sincere enough, but she
wasn’t about to back down.

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. A light,
quick, ‘sorry-and-let’s-be-friends-again’ sort of kiss. So much for
keeping well clear of him! “Forgive me? I’ll buy you a stunner of a
party dress.”

“Money doesn’t always do it,” she snapped,
still far from mollified.

“It’ll do it tomorrow. You can have any dress
in town.”

“I want the backless one split up to the
hip,” she demanded ungraciously.

“Where did you see it?”

“In my dreams.” She wriggled away from his
hands with a sharply indrawn breath. Forgiveness was a way off yet,
even though his kiss had been chaste and his regret seemed
real.

“We’ll see what we can find tomorrow
then.”

Kate hovered, eyes still searching for the
sketches. Matthew had hidden them well. Where could they be? He’d
closed the study door on her before, but this was another chance to
try and retrieve them.

“What do you actually do?” she asked, playing
for time.

He took a long slow breath. At least she’d
changed the subject. Maybe that was a good sign, even though two
spots of colour stained her cheekbones, and the rest of her face
still looked chalky white with fury. “Internet projects. Some years
back I created a very good Service Provider—an ISP—with a friend.
We sold it for... more than I could have dreamed of. That’s what
set me up. And I’m on the board of the company who bought it.”

“And?”

“Other business interests. I’m quite involved
with the vineyard these days. And a graphics enterprise—I’ve always
been keen on photography. Lottie’s not the only artist in the
family.”

“As you so ably demonstrated today,” she
agreed, flicking him a look of disdain.

He watched as her eyes returned to searching
his shelves and desk-tops, and a prickle of unease skittered down
his spine. “Yes...well...my biggest project—where my brain really
is right now—is the software I’m working on.

Kate nodded, but her eyes continued their
frantic search.

“And that’s why I need your help for Lottie,”
he added, wondering if a little gentle blackmail would help
persuade her to stay. “I need time and concentration for this.”

Kate turned away with a sigh. She knew there
was no way she could stay—and survive.

There was no sign of the sketches. Unless
he’d slid them between the filing cabinets, of course. The sheets
of paper were too big for any of the drawers, and she couldn’t see
them on the shelves. She wasn’t prepared to beg for them. Not
yet.

She glanced at her watch. “Lottie sent me
down with a message. She wants her dinner brought upstairs. She’s
decided to sleep up there tonight. Okay with you?”

Tough if it isn’t.

She turned and left him to it, but he
followed her to the study doorway. She knew he was watching; his
eyes almost burned holes in her spine. She tossed her hair back as
she walked, and tried to make her long-legged stride confident and
graceful.

“I’m going out for a while,” he called after
her retreating figure.

She didn’t look back. Simply kept going,
although she did raise a hand in a half-hearted acknowledgement of
his comment.

Good. He’d be out of the way, and Lottie was
upstairs and didn’t need her. She could have a proper search for
the damned sketches in a little while. She returned to her seat in
the lowering sun.

Matthew swung himself into the SUV with a
quiet and heartfelt curse. Offending Kate had been the last thing
on his mind. He needed someone for Lottie. Needed someone
desperately, so he could live his own life again.

Lottie was not properly well—some sort of
neurological problem, as yet undiagnosed. Multiple Sclerosis? It
was early for that. She’d be very young to have it. So far the
major symptom was her clumsiness. Her feet didn’t always know where
the rest of her body was.

She was his responsibility, and he’d look
after her whatever the eventual outcome. But she was demanding. And
she was scared—however vigorously she appeared to be getting on
with life.

Kate was by far the best applicant for the
job. If he could persuade her to stay it would take a big weight
off his mind (and maybe bring all sorts of other problems, he
acknowledged grimly to himself.) There was nothing for it except to
jump in, feet-first, and see what happened. For the next few days
at least, he had someone to share his ‘Lottie-watching’ duties. He
was confident he could prevent Kate from discovering anything too
vital about his business before Sunday. And equally confident that
by then he’d know a whole lot more about her.

He accelerated sharply once he hit the road,
roaring along far past the speed limit until the major intersection
forced him to slow down and blend with other traffic. He felt edgy,
super-aware of his skin and the blood coursing warmly just beneath
it.

He’d enjoyed seeing Kate really angry,
although he regretted being the one to upset her. She’d revealed
herself as strong-willed and passionate—a challenge to any virile
red-blooded male. She could certainly stand up for herself when she
felt the situation warranted it.

She’d make a feisty lover. His body already
stirred, thinking of her. Naked and eager for him. Her glorious
hair tumbling over his pillows. Arms upraised in welcome, urging
him to take her, tugging him down so they were skin to skin and
mouth on mouth.

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.