The Prospective Wife (5 page)

‘You were going, I think, Joseph,’ Matt said without taking his eyes off Kat.

‘I was…?’ It occurred to Joe that, as far as the woman of his dreams was concerned, he had never really been there at all—he tried to take the fact he wasn’t making any contribution towards the electric atmosphere in the room philosophically.

‘Don’t worry, I think I’ll be quite safe in Miss Wray’s capable hands.’

Matt couldn’t ignore the stimulating effect this the image had on his jaded imagination… It was the undies question rearing its ugly head again. Were lingerie fetishes a normal result of several months of enforced celibacy…? There could be a paper in this for good old Dr Metcalf…

Kat could hardly believe the startling alteration in his manner. He sounded suspiciously like a normal, rational human being; there was even a hint of beguiling warmth in his voice!

‘You don’t mind me being here?’ Kat discovered she felt rather ambivalent about this breakthrough. She did have the offer of several temporary beds… Would you really prefer to be a burden on your friends? she asked herself sternly.

‘I want to throw those—’ his electric blue gaze lit momentarily on the discarded crutches ‘—out for good. If you can speed up the process I’d be a fool to object, wouldn’t I.’

It
sounded
reasonable…

‘Yes, you would.’ It seemed that he was no longer fearful that she would seduce him… How did you go about seducing someone…? With her rudimentary grasp of the subject, she’d probably produce a seduction routine that would have him laughing some more. She still felt like wincing when she thought about the sound of his deep, uninhibited amusement at her expense.

‘Then that’s settled.’

‘Your mother said that you—’

Matt didn’t much want to know what his mother said. ‘I thought you two were on first-name terms…?’ Matt interrupted her flow.

‘Is that a problem, Mr Devlin?’

‘Nobody calls me Mr Devlin.’

Kat’s mobile features screwed up in an uneasy frown. ‘I’m not sure I’m comfortable using your first name…’ She wasn’t sure why she felt so strongly about this… It wasn’t as if she was renowned for her formality.

‘I’m sure we all want you to be comfortable…’ he responded smoothly.

Then why, she wondered, does everything you do appear to be specifically designed to make me feel uneasy…? ‘No, I’m sure it will be fine…Matthew…’

‘Matt. And you’re…?’

‘Kat.’

‘Which is short for what…? Katherine…?’

‘Kathleen,’ she supplied, feeling a strange reluctance to divulge any personal information, no matter how innocuous, to this man.

‘Kathleen… Irish…?’

When he wasn’t barking orders or sounding paranoid, Matthew Devlin had a sinfully attractive voice, the sort of voice that had a colour and texture—in this case, midnight-blue and velvet—when you closed your eyes to appreciate the husky resonance. Kat didn’t close her eyes, but it was a close call!

‘On my mother’s side,’ she confirmed.

‘Me, too.’

‘I know. They went to school together, but they hadn’t seen each other for years and years,’ she added swiftly, in case it got him started on the conspiracy theory again. ‘Not until…recently.’

Matt didn’t need to be hit on the head with evasion to recognise it. He’d always been good at picking up on things people didn’t say; it was a trait that had done him no harm in his business dealings. He felt his curiosity stir as he wondered about what Kat was leaving unsaid.

Kat was sorry to see Joe go. She’d felt he might be a useful ally in hostile territory. Kat was realistic; she had her foot in the door, but she was pretty sure that this was only the first hurdle—she soon discovered her instincts were right.

‘I’ll use the room I always do, thank you, Elizabeth. If you could have my bags moved upstairs at some point I’d be grateful.’ Despite the pleasant smile he had for the housekeeper, there was no doubt Matt hadn’t liked discovering he’d been put in the ground-floor guest suite.

The housekeeper, whom Kat had had down as the unemotional type, had all but wept with joy at seeing Matt. There was no accounting for taste! She now cast a look of urgent appeal in Kat’s direction as she left the room.

The door closed and Kat could no longer keep a hold on her tongue. She was too exasperated by this point to wrap up her criticism in sugar-coated terms. So far, during their cosy
getting to know one another
chat, he had vetoed every tentative suggestion she’d made, for no reason as far as she could see other than pig-headed awkwardness, plain and simple.

‘I suppose that’s one way to prove you’re in control. Lay down the law, watch them jump and don’t worry,’ she soothed nastily. ‘Even if they think what you’re saying is stupid they’re not likely to say so!’

Kat had never met a more obstinate individual! For the life of her she couldn’t understand why the staff here seemed so delighted to have him staying—it was bizarre. The housekeeper in particular seemed a very sensible woman, which made her reaction to Matt all the more incomprehensible.

Perhaps the man had hidden depths…? No, Kat decided, with an angry sniff, if he did have depths they were probably murky. Either it was case of mass hypnotism or the whole place must be particularly susceptible to blue eyes; there was no other explanation.

The thought drew her own angry eyes back to his. There was no escaping the fact that his eyes were
very
blue. Kat herself had found her own gaze repeatedly drawn towards his thickly lashed deep-set eyes as their conversation had become increasingly one-sided. Right now, the main expression she could see in those azure depths was shock… Perhaps he didn’t expect the paid help to answer back?

Matt settled back in his seat and reached for a slice of carrot cake, looked at it with a look as jaded as his palate, and then put it back on the plate untouched.

‘I take it I shouldn’t expect you to feel equally stifled when it comes to the subject of my stupidity.’

‘Are you going to eat that?’

‘Why, do you want it?’ He held out the plate towards her. So far she’d gone through two slices and several of the wafer-thin smoked salmon sandwiches.

‘Very funny.’ Her lips twisted with impatience. ‘You never think about other people, do you?’

‘Not feeling hungry puts me in the selfish and heartless category…?’ Why was he surprised? She seemed able to imbue his most innocent action with sinister intent. ‘Your logic is interesting—bizarre, but interesting.’ Interlacing his fingers, he rested his square chin thoughtfully on them. ‘I feel sure you’re about to fill in the gaps for me.’

‘The afternoon tea.’ She waved her hand over the rather grand spread. ‘I bet everything here is your favourite,’ she accused.

Kat watched as his blue eyes swept over the food on the delicate china plates. Now that she’d pointed it out, he recognised favoured titbits from his schooldays. His shoulders lifted in a negligent concessionary shrug.

‘Hah! I’m right!’ she crowed.

‘If you’ve got a point to make, I think now is the time to make it.’

‘You don’t see, do you?’ She shook her head disapprovingly. ‘A lot of people went to a great deal of trouble to do something nice for you, because for some reason they seem to care about you. How do you think they’re going to feel if this lot goes back the kitchen untouched…?’

The troubled frown that flickered across his face was barely discernible before his expression grew impatient. ‘I haven’t liked sweet things since I was twelve years old.’

Her arms folded across her chest and she wondered whether he had a better nature to appeal to. ‘You don’t like…and I suppose that makes it all right to ride roughshod over people’s feelings?’

His narrowed blue eyes drilled into her. ‘We’re not talking cakes here, are we?’

‘Your mother has gone to a lot of trouble specially preparing those rooms for you.’

This was obviously the point where he was meant to be overcome by remorse and self-loathing.

‘My mother isn’t going to lose any sleep over where I choose to sleep,’ he drawled languidly.

‘Well, if you’re not bothered about hurting Drusilla’s feelings…’

‘You have a nasty habit of putting words into a man’s mouth…’ His eyes dwelt for a long distracted moment on the lush curves of her kissable lips… Other things might taste more palatable on his tongue than her acid recriminations.

‘Consider the practicalities. Just how exactly do you expect to get upstairs to your usual bedroom?’ she asked him. ‘Crawl…?’ Tact and compassion had their place, but not when dealing with Matt Devlin. Empathy wasn’t going to get her anywhere with this man, but brutal practicality might.

She wanted to play hard ball…fine. Matt suspected he’d had more practice at the pastime than Blondie here.

‘I can’t carry you. I suppose you could employ some muscular young man…’

‘I thought we’d already established I’m not into muscular young men…’ he drawled.

Kat ignored this interruption designed to distract her, even though the reminder made her flush. ‘But I expect your mother thought you’d prefer to be more independent.’

‘You think I’m ungrateful…?’ With a twisted smile he watched her struggle with the temptation to rip his character to shreds some more.

‘I’ve seen the suite, and it’s conveniently close to the pool and gym… Nothing could be more suitable.’

Or decadent, at least as far as the leisure facilities were concerned. The Roman-styled pool-house complete with waterfall which had been converted from a stable block had taken Kat’s breath away and made her want to tear off her clothes and immerse herself in that warm inviting water… Considering what had happened, it seemed ironic that back then she’d been concerned about first impressions—being caught skinny-dipping hadn’t seemed to capture the right note!

Kat was too startled to even squeak in protest when his hand shot out and he jerked her towards the chair he sat in. Off balance, she came down heavily on one knee; she only prevented herself from falling any further by bracing a hand against the arm of his chair.

‘Is there some constructive reason you keep reminding I’m an invalid?’

She took a couple of steadying breaths and inhaled undiluted Matt scent—it was an earthy, all-male fragrance. A wave fresh of dizziness struck Kat; this man must have cornered the market in pheromones.

Her eyes slid to the fingers encircling her wrist. They were long and lean like the rest of him; their iron strength didn’t feel at all sickly to her… She, on the other hand, didn’t feel so great at all. Thready, over-fast pulse, sweaty palms—both of which he’d probably noticed—a churning sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. A wave of intense heat raised her body heat several uncomfortable degrees.

‘You’re not an invalid, but for the moment whether you like it or not you do have limitations…’ Relief washed over her. Against all the odds she’d hit just the right note of objectivity and caring.

The slight imperious tilt of his dark head was a concessionary gesture—at least, for the sake of harmony, that was the way she decided to construe it.

Their eyes clashed and the harmony theory fell apart. Kat’s ferociously pumping heart sent a surge of adrenaline around her body so fast she felt light-headed.

‘So, incidentally, do I.’ This time her voice had a faint faraway quality. The focus of her troubled gaze shifted significantly to the fingers still encircling her wrist.

Her hot vision blurred so that for a moment she couldn’t quite make out the defining line between his flesh and her own paler skin; the weak fluttery sensations low in her belly got stronger and more disturbing. It was all she could do to stop herself tearing her hand away.

‘And one of them is look, but don’t touch…?’ His extended thumb moved thoughtfully over the blue-veined inner aspect of her wrist. It must be the challenge—he’d never been able to resist one of those—that conjured up the fantasy image of Kat begging him to touch her.

The sweeping motion must have crossed over a sensitive nerve-ending because the sharp electrical thrill Kat felt shot along her arm in both directions.

His hand fell away and her delicately curved eyebrows drew into a perplexed line as a wave of relief way out of proportion with the event washed over her. She felt pretty foolish on her knees, but, given the fact she wasn’t sure if she had total control over her limbs, she didn’t have much choice but to stay put.

‘I can’t stop people looking,’ she admitted huskily.

‘So you can lay those pretty hands on me as much as you like.’ One dark brow lifted before he impatiently flicked a heavy section of dark collar-length hair from his eyes. ‘But if I reciprocate you’ll…?’

What would she do…? It was a purely academic speculation. Up until this moment he hadn’t even thought about sex… He’d forgotten what a distraction it could be,
thinking…
He was thinking a lot all of a sudden. He blamed it on that responsive quiver he’d felt run through her body when he’d touched her. So the lovely Kathleen wasn’t being quite honest when she’d said she didn’t fancy him…
Interesting.

‘I’ll think you’ve fallen for my fatal charm,’ she suggested acidly. ‘We can all live in hope.’

Her snappy sarcasm lifted his brooding frown and brought a genuine grin to his face.

Despite her best efforts to remain dispassionate, Kat was charmed.

‘I always think that
hope
has an unpleasantly passive sound to it…’

Kat didn’t need telling that she was in the presence of a man who didn’t lie around hoping for things to happen; she was quite sure that he went out and made them happen. Everything about him said he needed to be in control of his own fate.

‘It’s a harmless way to while away a wet afternoon though.’

Even though Matt deeply despised the soft-focus image that lodged in his brain of her staring through some rain-drenched window he had to admit it was an absurdly attractive one.

‘And what do you hope for during those wet afternoons, Kathleen?’

He had the sort of voice that could effortlessly make a girl believe he could fulfil all her hopes. Her eyes widened with alarm as the stray thought just popped into her head from God knew where!