The Prospective Wife (9 page)

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Authors: Kim Lawrence

BOOK: The Prospective Wife
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‘No I’m not joking; neither am I being being evasive. Unlike some people I could mention,’ she reflected with a bitter aside. ‘Actually, I didn’t even know you had a father.’

‘You weren’t very well briefed, were you?’

‘You don’t know the half of it,’ Kat responded with feeling. ‘Your mother told me you were a helicopter pilot.’

‘I am.’

‘That’s the clever part,’ Kat reflected darkly, unable to take her eyes off the sculpted muscles of his midriff.

‘My God!’
Matt breathed in a shaken tone. ‘You mean it! You really didn’t know…’

Kat wrenched her eyes back to eye level; the change of scenery offered very little relief for her lust-transfixed thoughts.

‘Oh, it gets better,’ she told him bitterly. ‘I even thought she was paying my salary because you couldn’t afford to. How funny is that? I thought she lived here. Now I find out you are rich!’

‘Is that a problem—the rich part, not the stupid part?’

Kat dealt him a withering look. ‘I don’t care about your money…!’

Matt found that against all the odds he believed her.

‘I care about being lied to.’

He heard the emotional quiver in her voice and the amusement died from his eyes; he knew all about being lied to. He still continued to look at her with an expression of unholy fascination.

‘Perhaps we should teach my meddling mother a lesson.’

His silky, soothing tone sent a sliver of apprehension down her spine.

‘When she does turn up to see how her machinations are going, we could let her think her plan worked.’

‘How could we do that?’

‘We could pretend to be madly in love.’

Pretend to be in love? Kissing and touching—wouldn’t they be almost obligatory under such circumstances? On one level, she found the idea exciting in a wild reckless sort of way. Another part of her instinctively knew that she couldn’t settle for make-believe.

Kat drew a deep sustaining breath as it hit her with the force of a tidal wave—
I wouldn’t be pretending.

‘It would probably cure her of matchmaking for good.’

‘Rough justice—how poetic. You’re just as warped and manipulative as she is!’ she accused shakily. She felt as if the truth were written all over her face.

Matt shrugged. ‘It was just a thought.’

‘Do me a favour. Don’t think.’ She took a deep breath and changed the subject. ‘You were giving me the low-down on your father. If I’d thought about him at all, I suppose I’d assumed he was dead.’

For some reason this last comment seemed to amuse Matt the most.

‘No, he’s very much alive,’ he told her gravely. ‘With an emphasis on the
very.
He’s very fond of mentioning he’s got more energy than a man half his age.’

‘Would that younger man be you?’

‘Give the lady a prize.’

‘You don’t get on with him…?’

‘Go straight to the top of the class. My father and I haven’t communicated for several years; he’s disinherited me.’

‘And I take it there’s a lot to disinherit you from…?’ she prompted. A person just couldn’t start a story and leave it like that.

‘You’ve heard of Atlantica Airlines?’

Kat nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘That’s my father.’

Her eyes widened.
‘Gosh!’
She looked around their surroundings, realising now why he took such opulence for granted. ‘Then you set up in…’

‘Competition.’ He inclined his dark head. ‘That’s right. He wanted me to do the dutiful son thing and learn at the master’s feet.’

‘I can see how that might cause a bit of friction. But surely after the accident…?’ she exclaimed, unable to comprehend the sort of paternal animosity that could survive this life-threatening crisis. ‘I didn’t mean to pry,’ she added uncomfortably.

Matt’s massive muscle-packed shoulders lifted, and Kat, to whom the mechanics of muscle and sinew were no mystery, found herself momentarily distracted by this simple action… This is getting silly, she told herself angrily.

‘It’s no secret,’ he told her. ‘It’s the old nurturing a snake in his bosom story. He’s considered me a traitor from the day I became the opposition. So, you see, you’ve got caught up in a long-running family feud. Mum never gives up on the idea of a big reconciliation. She’s got this master plan, you see, to get Dad and I back together.’

‘That’s got nothing to do with me…’

Matt shook his head slowly. Now that they were both officially victims of Drusilla he seemed inclined to view her in an almost sympathetic manner.

‘Me producing a son is meant to reduce the old man to a sentimental push-over…’

Privately, going on the information she had, Kat thought such an event was highly unlikely, given the two men involved both seemed extraordinarily obstinate and inflexible.

One dark brow lifted. ‘That’s where you come in…’

‘Me…?’ she echoed innocently.

‘I can’t produce a son alone…’

‘Does it have to be a boy?’

‘No,’ he conceded, ‘just a Devlin. Well, half-Devlin…the other half.’

Kat’s eyes widened to saucer-size. ‘She picked me for my child-bearing hips?’

‘Don’t panic. I think she’s backing a loser, too.’

Kat couldn’t decide if this was a direct indictment of her hips or her overall appeal—or lack of it. Either way, it was hard to stand there and act as if you didn’t care when the man you were potty about casually dismissed you as a possible mate.

‘Poor Drusilla!’ Putting aside her unhappy personal involvement, she couldn’t help but feel for the other woman.

It was the ultimate divided loyalties scenario. Caught between a husband and son. Kat couldn’t imagine many situations she’d like less.

‘It must be hard for her. Does your father know you’re staying here?’

‘Probably,’ Matt conceded carelessly.

Kat noticed he had the same closed expression on his face every time he mentioned his father.

‘They’ve come to some sort of compromise—that they don’t discuss me—but I’m sure he knows what she’s up to.’

‘I thought my family was odd…’ A cloud passed over her face as it struck her afresh that she no longer had a family, odd or otherwise.

Her tactlessness amused him; the shadow in her eyes intrigued him. ‘Perhaps we could exchange odd anecdotes, some time…?’

Kat didn’t respond to his smile. ‘Perhaps,’ she said, confident that she’d never feel inclined to confide her family secrets to this man. She moved down the wide shallow steps until her ankles were covered by water. When she lifted her head she found her eyes were on a level with the scars on his left leg.

A naturally empathic person, Kat had been forced over the years to build up the necessary defences against other people’s suffering. She’d learnt that she couldn’t identify personally with someone’s pain without it affecting her work. But one glance at the surgeon’s clever handiwork here and those rudimentary defences were stripped clean away. She stood there, feeling emotions so raw they hurt.

‘Want a guided tour of the scar sites?’

Only a total deviant could have found the invitation erotic. Kat lowered her troubled gaze, feeling deeply ashamed.

He touched the one above his knee. ‘This is from the external fixation. When that got infected, they eventually opted for the internal metalwork.’ He traced a vertical line. ‘Quite a mess.’

Kat had this crazy explosive image in her head of tracing the fading line with her fingers…her lips. Her entire body was shaken by a hot shiver.

‘I’ve seen worse,’ she croaked. ‘Here, let me help you into the water.’ Pity it’s not cold—I could do with it!

‘Give it to me from the female angle.’

‘Female angle?’

‘You know what I mean. What is your gut reaction?’ he elaborated casually. ‘Pity, distaste, revulsion…? Don’t pull your punches. I’d like to know what to expect.’

Kat shook her head in disbelief. ‘You know, the vanity of men never ceases to amaze me,’ she marvelled angrily. ‘You think women are
that
shallow?’

‘Now that you come to mention it…’ Ignoring her extended hand, he manoeuvred himself down the first couple of steps pretty slickly. From what she could see, Kat didn’t think he’d need her services for too long.

Kat wished she’d concentrated harder when Drusilla had been explaining about some girlfriend—or had it been a fiancée?—who had dumped Matt because she had panicked at the idea of disfigurement. Silly fool, Kat thought, intensely scornful of this fickle airhead… If you loved someone, what did a few scars matter?

‘Just because you’ve had a bad experience…’ She immediately sensed the wary aggression in his tense stance. ‘Drusilla mentioned a girl…’ she admitted with a brief conciliatory grin. Her bosom swelled with indignation. ‘She didn’t sound very…
nice,
’ she sniffed.

‘Not nice, but very naughty,’ Matt told her with a nostalgic gleam in his eyes. He hadn’t expected or wanted Angela to hang around when the going got tough; they hadn’t had that sort of relationship.

Kat, her stomach churning queasily, didn’t want to think about what sort of behaviour
naughty
covered. Neither was she totally convinced by the fact he was displaying none of the classical symptoms of rejection. Pride would never permit him to admit that he’d been hurt… Maybe he was trying to play down the incident deliberately? Perhaps he was genuinely seeking reassurance…? Part of her ached to provide that reassurance; part of her ached to give him whatever he wanted!

Looking at his hard, almost painfully handsome face, Kat found it hard to believe the latter could be true. He had to be the most confident person she’d ever come across. Appearances could be deceptive, she reminded herself. Maybe the ego thing was a cover-up.

Just when she felt inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt and her concern for his emotional welfare had risen accordingly he went and spoilt it with a scornful, ‘If I wanted
nice
I’d buy a dog.’

‘Niceness and fidelity don’t seem to feature very high on your list of virtues,’ she observed tartly as she backed down the steps.

It was fortunate monitoring his progress was part of her job because Kat didn’t think she could have torn her eyes from him if her life had depended on it!

‘I take it they do on yours?’ He gave a sigh of pleasure as the warm water closed about his waist.

‘Well, I haven’t lost hope of finding someone who can see beyond a D-cup, someone who loves me for more than my body.’

A very worrying expression had slid into his eyes when she’d mentioned D-cup. It occurred to her she was in danger of exacerbating an already tense situation!

‘Let’s try this first, shall we…?’ She began to demonstrate a few gentle exercises which Matt immediately copied. After a few moments, she was satisfied he was more than up to the task.

‘And will you love him—this
paragon.
’ Matt continued their conversation as if nothing had been said in the interim, and the contemptuous curl of his lip spoilt the gentle rhythm Kat had built up ‘—for more than his body?’ Loving her body wouldn’t be too onerous a task for most men.

She could hardly beg him to avoid the L subject without inviting unwelcome speculation. What was she meant to say…?
I’ve fallen madly, deeply, dangerously in love with you, so please don’t bring up the subject?

‘Did you see me falling about in revulsion at your scars?’

‘That’s not the same. You don’t fancy me…’ Was it her guilty conscience that imbued his tone with scepticism? ‘You don’t even like me, or have you forgotten?’

‘I haven’t forgotten!’ she retorted, her bosom heaving as though she’d just sprinted several lengths of the pool. ‘And I’m not likely to while you continue to go out of your way to be objectionable. Shall we take a break?’

‘So soon?’ The ends of his hair were wet; when he shook his head the excess moisture transferred itself to his mocking face. ‘I don’t think your fitness levels are what they should be.’

This not-so-veiled reference to her breathless discomposed state brought an angry resentful frown to Kat’s brow.

‘I don’t want you to over-exert yourself.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ He seemed to be in the mood to discompose her some more as he leaned back against a mosaic dolphin on the tiled side of the pool. ‘That you won’t fall in love with a pretty face? Don’t be so quick to pour scorn!’ he warned, as an indignant denial trembled angrily on her tongue. ‘You may be looking for a guy’s inner strength but it’s quite likely you’ll see his tight behind first.’

Under the glittering mockery of his too blue eyes, heat flooded Kat’s face. ‘I don’t look at men’s bottoms, tight or otherwise.’ She tried to compress her full and sexy lips into a prim and prissy line and failed in a way that delighted Matt.

‘Except professionally, of course…’ he added with mock solemnity.

Was this his way of telling her he’d seen straight through her
professional
gawping earlier? If it is, I don’t want to know, she decided, gritting her teeth and rising above the malicious taunt.

‘All right, let’s say for the sake of argument that you’re not a bottom girl. What happens if you meet a rat who just happens to fulfil all your girlhood dreams…?’

What, indeed?

‘You’d know about that, I suppose?’ If ever a man was the embodiment of female dreams, he was it!

‘Why, Miss Wray, I do believe you’re telling me I’m pretty! I don’t know what to say…’ He performed a parody of coy and modest that would have had her laughing if she hadn’t been so tense and suspicious.

‘We can only live in hope.’ This drew a deep wildly attractive rumble of laughter from him. ‘And actually I was thinking of the rat part.’

‘The point I’m trying to make—’

‘In a long-winded way.’

‘Is that when it comes to the crunch your lofty principles might prove lacking.’

‘If they do, you’ll be the first to know,’ she snapped sarcastically. ‘Are you ready to do a few more exercises before we call it a day?’

‘No, I’m ready for a swim.’

‘I don’t think you’re ready.’

He listened with an expression of deep interest, then gave her a wicked little grin and launched himself smoothly towards the deep end of the pool.

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