Her Man with Iceberg Eyes (5 page)

Despite her best intentions, a sneaky chuckle
escaped. “Is that a job interview question?” she asked, trying to
keep a straight face.

His answering laugh filled the SUV, and
guilty pleasure flowed right through her. Maybe he’d only been
teasing?

“Not a question I felt like asking the worthy
Miss Humphries or the scary Ms Darkmoor...”

“And what were
they
like?” she asked,
wondering why she was holding her breath.

“Baggy pink bloomers and a studded leather
chastity belt, I imagine.”

Kate collapsed with mirth at his unexpected
reply. She pictured the women who might wear such undergarments.
Obviously he’d found neither of them right for Lottie. And they
weren’t to his taste either. Her spirits lifted, because maybe her
chances of getting the job were better than she’d expected.

“Anyway, you’ll need some warm trousers and a
couple of jerseys for the next few days, Matthew continued.

Such an abrupt right turn from chastity belts
had Kate blinking and trying to stifle her laughter.

He ploughed firmly on. “A better jacket
maybe? T-shirts? Thermals? And I’m serious about the boots—you
can’t trot around in heels all the time.”

“I’d still rather pay for things myself.”

“Not a show. You stay, I pay. End of
story.”

She drew a sharp breath but held her tongue
after that.

He turned into a parking space with
exaggerated care.

“It’s all right—I’m holding on this time,”
she said, giving him no chance to pounce on her again.

They walked briskly into the vibrant outdoor
clothing store he’d discussed with Diana. An assistant approached
within seconds. “Mr. McLeod—how can I help you today?”

“Hi Sharon—Lottie and I have a friend staying
with us unexpectedly. Kate needs a few days’ clothing—and a decent
pair of walking boots.” He drew a slip of paper from his pocket.
“There’s your budget. Choose whatever you need to keep her
warm.”

Sharon glanced briefly at the ‘budget’ and
smiled broadly. “No trouble, Mr. McLeod.”

Matthew turned to Kate. “I’ve something to do
for a while, so have fun.” He sauntered away.

“I won’t need much really,” Kate said.

“Make the most of his money,” Sharon said.
“He’s got plenty—and think what I could do with the
commission.”

Kate shrugged. She’d been outmanoeuvred by
experts.

Sharon selected several ensembles, and
gathered up little extras to compliment them. Kate disappeared into
the fitting room with armful after armful.

It was a whole new experience to shop with no
regard to cost. Her previous salary had been perfectly adequate,
and she was fond of nice clothes, but still...this was heaven. She
was determined to keep expenses to a minimum though. The less she
was indebted to Matthew McLeod, the better.

Matthew strode down the mall, trying to
stifle his grin. Where was the lingerie boutique? The window
displays had often caught his eye, although he’d never shopped
there. A few pairs of pretty panties would be the ideal next step
in his campaign. He’d never met a woman who didn’t enjoy lingerie,
and after his teasing conversation with Kate, they’d almost be an
appropriate gift. Almost. His grin grew wider. They’d be a
compliment and a goad in equal measure. He concocted a suitable
story as he drew nearer. Something to hide in Christmas crackers,
perhaps?

He pushed the door open, and warm fragrant
air surrounded him. Please God the saleswoman wouldn’t be one of
Lottie’s close friends. A tiny green thong on a display stand
screamed for attention, and he paused, picturing the scrap of lace
and elastic on Kate’s lithe body.

“Good afternoon, sir. How may I be of
help?”

The girl looked barely twenty. At least ten
years younger than Lottie. Good.

“I need half a dozen pairs of assorted
panties,” he began. “We’re having a mid-winter Christmas party, and
I’m in charge of finding favours to fit inside the crackers.
Something small and pretty? And I guess we go for medium sized?” He
glanced at the green thong again.

“That’s from our Mint Julep range,” the
assistant said, sensing a customer willing to spend serious money.
“We import the line direct from New York. The same designer has
this amazing Scent of a Rose collection, too.” She produced another
skimpy thong—this time black, and with a deep red rose printed on
the front panel. Tiny crystal dewdrops sparkled among the petals.
“The fabric is specially perfumed with rose essence. It’s
guaranteed to last the life of the garment.”

Matthew’s lips twitched. The few square
inches of fabric weren’t large enough to qualify as a ‘garment’ in
his opinion. “One of each then,” he said, imagining Kate’s
annoyance when she discovered them. “What have you got that’s a bit
more concealing?”

The girl searched rapidly through a rack
labelled ‘Silkies’ and held up a hanger with a pair of French
knickers. “Very retro Hollywood,” she suggested. “Pure silk, with
Brussels lace. There’s this cream and ecru option, or...violet and
black.”

“The violet.”

“And something more modern?” From further
down the rack she drew a pair of black satin boxers printed with
silver stars.

Matthew had a sudden flash of Kate wearing
them with her black and red camisole. Kick-boxing. Long legs
flying. “Perfect,” he agreed. “And, regrettably, we’d better have
something more everyday to balance the selection out.”

The girl grinned. “Cotton,” she said. “But we
have beautiful fine eco-cotton from Egypt.” She led him to a bin of
white bikini panties, each embroidered with a different motif on
the hip. “Flower? Angel? Fairy?”

Matthew opted for the angel.

“Look—just right as a pair,” she said,
pulling out a small cartoon devil.

He laughed and agreed. “So there’s my six.”
He followed her to the sales counter and watched as she removed the
price tags, carefully folded each pair, settled them into a nest of
lilac tissue paper, and slid them into a shiny bag printed with the
boutique’s name and address.

“Anything else, sir?” she asked as he
produced his credit card. He thought for a moment. Kate’s overnight
tote had been surprisingly small; plainly she’d packed the bare
minimum of what she might need. “A robe?” he suggested. “Something
long and warm?”

She indicated a rack at the side of the
store. “Velour from Italy. They come with matching slippers.”

He took a moment to imagine Kate padding
around his home with very little under her robe. “A medium in
cream—and the slippers had better be large because she’s tall.”

“They’re backless,” the girl said, checking
the sizes, “So I don’t think they’re too critical....but...yes, we
have both.”

Kate emerged from the fitting room wearing
close-fitting charcoal leggings and a soft possum jersey in riotous
mauve, tangerine and fuchsia just as Matthew returned. She managed
two or three slinky steps and a twirl before losing her nerve and
standing, eyes cast down. How did he do that to her?

“Does the jersey come in any other colours?”
he asked Sharon.

“Lime, kingfisher and royal.” She held up the
alternative for his inspection.

“One of each then.”

“I don’t need both,” Kate objected.

“But I do. I’ll enjoy seeing you in those,”
Matthew replied, unperturbed. “What else has she chosen,
Sharon?”

He turned and sorted through the pile of
clothes. Kate felt her last shred of privacy being ripped away.

“Not that,” he said, casting aside a
long-sleeved khaki shirt.

“Why not?” Kate objected.

“Any other colours, Sharon?”

“Grey, chocolate...black.”

“Chocolate then,” Kate said.

“Black,” he said firmly. They each reached
for a hanger. He stood behind her, eyes locked with hers in the
mirror. He was at least half a head taller. His warm breath stirred
her hair... his dark dangerous cologne and the bitterness of fresh
wood-smoke floated on the air around him. So good. She tried not to
gulp great breaths of his scent as she held the chocolate shirt
against her body.

“You’re not a brown person,” he murmured, his
deep voice only inches from her ear. “The khaki was wrong. The
chocolate is wrong.” He took the hanger from her unresisting
fingers and dragged the shirt past her breasts in a tingling
caress. He replaced it with the black.

Kate wanted desperately to be further apart,
but how was she to manage that without giving him a sharp jab in
the ribs with her elbow? So tempting—but goodbye to any prospect of
getting the job if she did.

“See what I mean?” he said. “That’s much
better with your skin.” Again he dragged the shirt away past her
rapidly stiffening nipples.

She could do nothing. Here, in a well lit
store, in front of an assistant who knew him by name, he was openly
flirting and she was helpless to escape. And worse, her body was
responding with enthusiasm to his arrogant masculinity.

“How would you know?” she demanded, privately
conceding that maybe he was right.

“I have eyes. I live with an artist.”

She turned away, conceding defeat.

“Let’s see that jacket on you,” he
suggested.

Kate had been determined to choose sensible,
inexpensive fleece instead of the other beautiful fabrics on offer.
She’d tried to resist the buttery-soft raspberry leather jacket
that Sharon had shown her, but now Matthew was practically forcing
her into it. Sighing, she slunk into the fitting room to change,
knowing she’d have his intrusive eyes inspecting her again in
seconds.

She slithered out for his scrutiny.

Matthew nodded slowly, stepping closer. He
gave the collar a small tweak, brushing his fingers through her
hair as he did so. “Yes, beautiful. Consider it sold. You like
it?”

Kate ignored his question and whirled away,
back to the privacy of the fitting room. What right did he have to
treat her like that? A few suggestive remarks when they were on
their own were bad enough. Touching her in front of someone else
was so much worse.

She slumped down on the little bench,
mortified and scarlet. The curtain between them billowed in a
slight breeze. She heard Matthew and Sharon concluding his
purchase, and the crackle of bags as her clothes were packed
up.

She removed the raspberry leather, the
leggings and the amazing jersey. Slid into her own clothes and the
borrowed cream jacket, and emerged with the last armful. She
refused to look at him as Sharon finished folding the garments. He
was overpowering—a bully—he stole the air from around her! She gave
him the merest nod as she gathered up two of the bags.

Outside the bars and cafes, hard-bodied
thrill seekers clustered, comparing their day’s experiences. Music
throbbed from an upstairs aerobics studio. Kate walked, almost
oblivious to her surroundings, and still fuming at his
high-handedness, as Matthew led the way back to the SUV.

On her seat she found a further present—a
grey and apricot package with a silken draw-cord securing it. She
stood it on the dashboard until they were under way, then pulled
the cord aside and found a froth of lace and satin snuggled in a
nest of lilac tissue paper.

“What!?” she exclaimed, snapping flinty eyes
to his amused face.

“I had fun. See what you think.”

With trembling fingers, she withdrew a tiny
green lace thong. A pair of violet silk French knickers. Another
thong that was mostly a print of a dark red full blown rose with
tiny twinkling dewdrops. Two pairs of innocent white knit bikini
panties, and shiny black boxers embroidered with silver stars.

“How dare you buy me things like this,” she
said, trying for ice and outrage.

He took no notice. His slow burning grin
widened, and his crackling eyes danced with humour. “I thought you
were probably a medium. Slim without being bony. Curvy without
being voluptuous. A happy medium.”

Kate snatched an enraged breath. “A most
un
happy medium.”

“If they don’t suit, you can exchange
them.”

“Oh sure. I’ll just waltz in to the shop and
say ‘nice Mr. McLeod bought these for me but I’d rather have
something else?’”

“Kate—what is your
problem
?”

“You are!”

“Well, I thought you’d need underwear.”

“And you thought these would be to my
taste?”

“Some more than others, Katie. Some more than
others.” His eyes held hers in a steady stare as they waited at an
intersection for two pedestrians with snowboards. One eyebrow
lifted slightly. Then his wide kissable mouth compressed again as
though holding back further mirth.

“And don’t ‘Katie’ me,” she lashed.

“Look—I hoped there’d be something here you’d
find useful or suitable or pretty.”

She shot him a killer glance.

“I didn’t know if you wore those little
things or something a bit more... concealing. Who knows what women
prefer? Not me—but I can picture you in that rosy
arrangement...”

“Well, stop picturing me, thank you.”

He tossed her a cavalier grin. “Pretty
picture though.”

She snorted. “None of your business,” she
muttered.

“And there’s something else in the back that
might be handy,” he continued, unperturbed.

Startled, she glanced over her shoulder and
found another much larger offering from the same store. Matthew
slowed for a turning vehicle. Kate reached backward and dragged the
bag over to her seat, quivering with embarrassment.

First, she unwrapped a pair of cream
slippers, which looked exactly her size. She had a sudden chilling
picture of him prowling her bedroom, long fingers roaming through
her possessions, checking her spare pair of shoes. Surely he’d had
no time to?

“Just right,” she said coldly.