Her Man with Iceberg Eyes (6 page)

“Took a punt, seeing they’re backless,” he
said, and she relaxed a little.

The rest of the big bag contained a soft
full-length velour robe to match. Kate ran her fingers along the
pale pink silk piping edging the pockets and lapels. She would
never have treated herself to anything as luxurious and expensive.
“Thank you. It’s very...nice.” It was a tepid word, she knew, but
she hoped not to enrage him again. And she certainly didn’t want to
encourage him. At least he wasn’t expecting her to flit about his
big house in something short and transparent. She was relieved
about that, anyway. She packed the robe away as best she could, and
sat staring straight ahead, still far too aware of him.

It was early dusk when they reached the
hospital again. This time Lottie was awake—and fractious.

“Ach, this place,” she complained, pushing
away the remains of her dinner. Kate hung back as Matthew moved her
food tray aside and stood close. He wrapped an arm around her
shoulders and bent to kiss her forehead. She leaned against him,
burying her face against his body and releasing a long noisy
sigh.

What an easy affection they had, Kate
thought. A sharp tweak of jealousy twisted her heart. It was a long
time since her parents had been so relaxed together. A long time
since Kate had been embraced as casually and easily. Simon had
touched her often, but tended to expect a sexual response in
return. To hug with no follow-up wasn’t his style.

“And this is why you are so late to see me?”
Lottie asked, turning her wide blue eyes in Kate’s direction.

Matthew grimaced in annoyance. “Third time
lucky, Lotts. We came by this morning as soon as I’d collected Kate
off the plane but they had you well sedated. We came back after
lunch and you were still dead to the world. At last you can meet
Kate. Kate Pleasance—Lottie Janssen.”

Kate stepped forward, hand outstretched to
shake Lottie’s. “It’s amazing to meet you. And a great
surprise.”

Lottie clasped Kate’s carefully manicured
hand between her own surprisingly rough ones. It was not a
handshake—it was the warmest of welcomes. Her blue eyes twinkled.
“The names, ya? I need to be a little careful and not give
everything away so soon.”

“I was amazed when Matthew told me.”

“Not too scared off?”

“Not yet, anyway.”

Lottie nodded and finally let go of Kate’s
hand. “We see how we go,” she said.

Matthew smiled only faintly. “You can have a
big chat tomorrow when we take you home. The doctor says you need
to stay the night because of your head. But we’ve got Kate for a
few days extra to help look after you.”

Lottie slid her eyes back to Kate’s. “So you
stay—how long?”

Kate looked across at Matthew and shrugged.
“Sunday?” she asked.

“Here for the party then,” Lottie said with
satisfaction. “He is the little brother,” she added, wagging her
head at Matthew. “Hamish is forty today, and the birthday party is
at the vineyard on Saturday.”

Kate couldn’t imagine towering Matthew being
anyone’s ‘little’ brother.

“Good thing I made that curry yesterday,”
Lottie continued. “You can do some rice and a salad? Diana’s
bringing her Banoffie pie. They’re still coming?”

Kate had lost the thread of the conversation
entirely. Who was coming? When?

Matthew nodded. “Eight o’clock. Kate can eat
your share.” He glanced across at her. “Only Diana and my brother
Hamish,” he explained. “We’d planned a celebration dinner at home
on the actual birthday. Lottie’s missing out now.”

Kate relaxed slightly as his gaze washed over
her. Thank heavens they wouldn’t be alone in the house after all.
Or not until much later in the evening. She’d just have to cope
with that when it happened. She vowed to keep conducting herself as
the cool collected job-seeker, and hoped it would send him the
appropriate message of non-availability.

“I’ll need to take you shopping again,” he
said.

Kate gazed at him warily. “Whatever for?”

“A party dress for Saturday.”

“I can wear my suit, surely?”

He shook his head. “Real party, Katie. Pretty
dresses and tuxedos. We do things properly here in the deep
south.”

“Oh that’s ridiculous. I just won’t
go—that’ll be easiest.” She looked across to Lottie for
back-up.

“Kate, you must come with us—a mysterious
guest to make a little thrill for our friends.”

Well, that was no help!

“
Do
be our mystery guest, Katie,”
Matthew encouraged.

Her eyes shot him full of razor blades.

“What shall we dress her in, Lottie?” he
continued, including Kate in his lazy smile. “Black or wine-red?
Green for the eyes or ...?

Kate felt herself being outmanoeuvred
again.

“Ya—the wine-red for the vineyard—why not?
That would suit you very well Kate. Let him buy you a dress.
There’s nothing in my wardrobe that will fit a tall model-girl like
you.” Lottie indicated her own generous bosom. “The money is very
little to us—at least we have been lucky that way.”

Kate sensed a hint of misfortune in the
comment. What could possibly be wrong in their apparently idyllic
lives?

“And the hair tied up with...” Lottie circled
her hands to indicate cascading tendrils.

In two long strides, Matthew arrived beside
Kate and plunged his hands into her luxuriant mane. He quickly
twisted up a rough topknot and held her captive. She tried to pull
away but his warm fingers were steel-strong. He tugged, less than
gently, so her eyes had to meet his. She glared, helpless, but
unwilling to make a scene in front of Lottie.

“That’s hurting me,” she said very quietly.
He was too close. Making her heart race and her palms break out
with anxious dampness.

“Then relax, and it won’t.”

“Let me go please.”

“In a minute.” He turned toward Lottie.
“Something like that? To show off her lovely long neck?” Very
slowly he ran the fingers of his other hand down Kate’s nape before
releasing her and moving away.

“Doesn’t she have beautiful hair?” he asked
Lottie, face a picture of innocence.

Kate itched to smack it. Hard.

“Surely you should be playing with
Lottie’s
hair?” she suggested with saccharine sweetness.

Matthew didn’t react to that, but Lottie
did.

“I have it always in the braid to keep it out
of the paint,” she said.

“Then I shall fasten mine up out of the way,
too,” Kate agreed, sending Matthew a furious glare.

“You’ll spoil my fun,” he said.

She nodded. “With any luck.”

“Ah well,” he said, glancing at his watch and
then at Lottie. “We’d better get that curry heated. We’ll be back
for you after ten tomorrow. Hope you sleep well.

Kate added her farewell and they paced back
down the corridor in silence.

I’m mad if I stay
, she thought
.
He’s total trouble. I should run while the going’s good.

She turned the various possibilities over in
her brain: leave right away and find accommodation in town for the
night. Suffer this evening’s dinner party and chance one night
alone in the house with him. Wait until Sunday, as agreed, on her
guard the whole time. Or take the job for as long as it lasted,
somehow keeping out of Matthew’s way.

Okay, he was away from home a lot. He’d said
so. How often? For how long? She wondered how she could find out,
because working for Lottie was an awesome opportunity. What an
addition to her CV Lottie Janssen’s name would make.

Kate had been attracted to the job the moment
she’d read the advertisement. Had been pleased to be
short-listed...impressed to be flown south at the McLeods’ expense
for the interview. She’d fallen instantly in love with Queenstown
during their brief pre-lunch tour. It was the ideal diversion from
Auckland, where memories of her mother and Simon lurked. It was
smaller, totally different—a winter place instead of a summer
one.

She’d felt immediately comfortable with
Lottie, even after the warning from Matthew that she could be
difficult. Not as difficult as a dying mother, she thought sadly.
Not as difficult as Matthew! It was a heaven sent opportunity—apart
from him.

He opened the door of the SUV for her, tall
and silent, his face cast into deep shadow by the garish security
lighting. Kate nodded her reluctant thanks and the door clunked
shut. She watched as he walked around to the driver’s side and slid
in, his breath visible on the cold air. She was grateful for her
borrowed jacket—the temperature felt only a degree or two above
frost-point.

“So you’re the ‘little’ brother?” she said,
to fill the lengthening silence.

“The younger,” he corrected. “Lottie’s
English is a bit eccentric, even after all these years.”

“How long has she lived here?”

He thought for a while. “Mmmm—she’s six years
younger than me...born in Samoa, and taken to the Netherlands by
her mother when she was five I think. Came back to New Zealand ten
or eleven years ago. She’s lived all over the place. Speaks scraps
of various languages.”

“I liked her.”

“See how you get on tomorrow, then.” He
punched the engine into life.

Once they’d left the lights of Queenstown
behind, Kate could still discern the jagged outline of mountains
against the star sprinkled sky. Surely the horizon was growing
lighter, not darker? She queried Matthew.

“Full moon due up in a while,” he said.
“It’ll be good in the spa pool tonight. We can put the lights
off.”

We?

Kate thought about that while the SUV carried
them the rest of the way home. A secluded little seduction scene? A
foursome with Diana and Hamish? Surely not—although Kate had read
that the very rich could be a law unto themselves. Her wary mind
ran riot with possibilities until they rolled into the big garage
and he switched the engine off.

A wicked extra scenario had sneaked in among
the options she’d assembled earlier; make the most of him while
they were alone for the night and desert him in the morning. By an
odd co-incidence it was
her
birthday, too, and she felt like
a treat. Matthew McLeod was the biggest treat she’d ever laid eyes
on.

No, she wouldn’t. Of course not. But she knew
he found her attractive. And he stole her breath away with his
powerful physical presence...his self-assurance...his hypnotic
silver-blue eyes...that sudden incredible smile.

He’d unsettled her the moment they’d met at
the airport. Since then her feet had not quite touched the ground.
He annoyed her immensely, constantly, outrageously. He was an itch
just begging to be scratched...and Kate’s fingers were now
twitching with the temptation.

Matthew shucked his dark blue jacket off as
they left the garage, and turned to collect hers as well. He opened
the door to the adjoining storeroom.

“Is it Hamish’s wine?” she asked, eyeing the
huge collection, and remembering the vineyard comments. She
shivered. It was cooler in there.

He reached for a bottle and held it label-up
for her.

“McLeod Brothers. Both of you?”

“His know-how. My money. Except these days
I’ve got some know-how and he’s making money.” He replaced the
bottle in the rack, then thought better of it, holding it by its
neck and closing the door. “Do you want to take the clothes to your
room? There’s plenty of time—Diana and Hamish aren’t due until
eight. Or will you help me with a salad first?”

“I may as well take the bags to the bedroom.
But I can hang them up later,” she added, hoping that would dismiss
him. To her annoyance, he insisted on carrying most of them.

She preceded him down the wide hallway,
acutely conscious they were once again alone in her bedroom. She’d
left her chaste white nightgown draped over the foot of the bed,
and his inquisitive eyes fastened on it as he laid his bags down.
Kate felt a bubble of mirth threatening to escape. He must surely
think it a surprising contrast to her rather risqué underwear.

She saw him glance at her small collection of
makeup on top of the chest of drawers. Watched as he drew a deep
breath and breathed the traces of perfume she’d already left in the
room. This felt far too personal—she wanted him out right away.

“Thank you.”

“No trouble.” He didn’t move.

“I’ll be with you in the kitchen soon.”

He nodded absently, standing relaxed with one
hand on his hip, the other hanging by his side. He was taking up a
huge amount of space. He suddenly sighed, returned to the present
moment and turned for the door. Kate wondered what he’d been
thinking about. She was sure the light level dimmed as he left.

“Put that black shirt on for dinner,” he
called back.

It was not a suggestion. It was a
command.

She gained some much needed breathing space
by sliding the clothes from their bags and smoothing them out on
the bed. Her fingers ran sensuously over the soft possum, the
supple leather, the cuddly velour of the robe.

She tipped the outrageous underwear from its
pretty packet and stroked the silk and satin, smirking as she
pictured him sorting through the displays in the no doubt classy
boutique. She hoped he’d been embarrassed, choosing such intimate
items. But perhaps he often shopped there for Lottie? Or a stray
mistress or two? Kate couldn’t quite picture the buxom Dutchwoman
in such flimsy finery, but who knew how other people lived? Her own
mother—past sixty—had worn only lacy black undergarments, right up
until her death.

Ignoring his suggestion of the new shirt, she
slipped into the blouse she’d intended for the flight home next
day. Emerald silk—good with her green eyes. She was certainly not
going to let him dictate what she wore.

It was rather too businesslike. She undid a
button. Then another. Better. It would do. And she twisted the top
of her hair up and secured it out of his way.