His Christmas Virgin. Carole Mortimer
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accompanied by vivid images of this woman’s naked body intimately entwined with another man, that ebony hair falling about the two of them like a silken curtain…
He straightened abruptly and once again moved to sit behind his desk. ‘I really am busy this morning, Mac. In fact I have an appointment in a little under five minutes, so why don’t we meet up again at lunchtime and discuss this further?’
Mac eyed him suspiciously. ‘You’re inviting me out to lunch?’ she repeated uncertainly, as if she were sure she must have misheard him.
No, Jonas hadn’t been inviting her out to lunch. In fact, those earlier imaginings had already warned him that, the less he had to do with the volatile Mac McGuire, the better he would like it!
‘On second thoughts it would be far more sensible if you were to talk to my secretary on your way out and make an appointment to come back and see me at a time more convenient for both of us.’
It would be more sensible, Mac agreed, but after arriving back late from the gallery on Saturday evening to find her studio in chaos, and then another hour spent talking to the police, to spend the rest of the weekend alternating between ranting at the mess and crying for the same reason, she wanted to sort this problem out once and for all. Today, if possible.
Her parents, safely ensconced in their retirement bungalow home in Devon, where they also ran a B&B in the summer months, already worried that their move to the south of England had left her living alone in London. They would be horrified to learn that she’d had a break-in at her home.
But was it a good idea for her to have lunch with Jonas Buchanan? Probably not, Mac acknowledged ruefully. Except that he had seemed sincere—no, furious, actually—in his denial that he was in any way responsible for the break-in.
If that were genuinely the case, then she probably owed him an apology, at least, for having come here and made those bitter accusations.
‘Lunch sounds a better idea,’ Mac contradicted his earlier suggestion. ‘In fact, I’ll take you out to lunch.’
Jonas raised mocking brows. ‘Would that offer be the equivalent of wearing sackcloth and ashes?’
Mac felt the warmth of colour in her cheeks at his pointed suggestion that she should appear penitent for her behaviour. ‘It means that for the moment I’m prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt regarding the break-in.’
‘For the moment?’ Jonas repeated softly, trying not to grit his teeth. ‘That’s very…good of you.’
‘Don’t push your luck, Jonas,’ she snapped. ‘I’m only suggesting this at all because this whole situation seems to be getting out of control.’
Jonas considered her between hooded lids. Mac really had behaved like a little hellion this morning by forcing her way into his office and throwing out her wild accusations. And if Jonas had any sense then he would tell her he would see her in court for even daring to voice those accusations without a shred of evidence to back up her claim. He certainly shouldn’t even be thinking of accepting her invitation to have lunch.
Except that he was…
Mac intrigued him. Piqued his interest in a way no woman had done for a very long time. If ever.
All the more reason not to even consider going out to lunch with her then!
She was absolutely nothing like the women Jonas was usually attracted to. Beautiful and sophisticated women who knew exactly what the score was. Who expected nothing from him except the gift of a few expensive baubles during the few weeks or months their relationship lasted; if any of those women had ever harboured the hope of having any more than that from him then they had been sadly disappointed.
Jonas had witnessed and lived through the disintegration of his own parents’ marriage. He had been twelve years old when he’d watched them start to rip each other to shreds, both emotionally and verbally, culminating in an even messier divorce when Jonas was fifteen.
He had decided long ago that none of that was for him. Not the initial euphoria of falling in love. Followed by a few years of questionable happiness. Before the compromises began. The irritation. And then finally the hatred for each other, followed by divorce.
Jonas wanted none of it. Would willingly forgo the supposed ‘euphoria’ of falling in love if it meant he also avoided experiencing the disintegration of that relationship and the hatred for each other that followed.
Mac McGuire, for all she was an independent and successful artist, gave every appearance of being one of those happily-ever-after women Jonas had so far managed to avoid having any personal involvement with.
‘Well?’ she prompted irritably at Jonas’s lengthy silence.
He should say no. Should tell this woman that he had remembered he already had a luncheon appointment today.
Damn it, it was only lunch, not a declaration of intent!
His mouth thinned. ‘I have an hour free between one o’clock and two o’clock today.’
‘Wow,’ Mac murmured, those smoky-grey eyes now openly laughing at him. ‘I should feel honoured that Jonas Buchanan feels he can spare me a whole hour of his time.’
His eyes narrowed to icy slits as he retorted, ‘When what I should really do is take your shapely little bottom to court and sue you for slander!’
Mac’s eyes widened and hot colour suffused her cheeks at hearing Jonas claim she had a shapely little bottom, making her once again completely aware of his own dark and dangerous attraction…
If anything he seemed even bigger today, his wide shoulders and powerful chest visibly muscled beneath the tailored suit and silk shirt, his face hard and slightly predatory, and dominated by those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see too much.
Did they see just how affected Mac was by his dark good looks, and that air of danger?
Perhaps the two of them lunching together wasn’t such a good idea, after all, Mac decided with a frown. She could always claim that she had remembered a prior engagement. That she had to go to the Lyndwood Gallery to check on how the exhibition was going—
‘Jonas, I have the letter here from—’ The blonde, blue-eyed woman who had entered from the adjoining office, and who Mac instantly recognised as being Jonas’s PA, Yvonne Richards—the same woman who had visited Mac a couple of months ago in an effort to persuade her into agreeing to sell her home—came to an abrupt halt in the doorway to Jonas’s office as she saw Mac there. ‘I’ll come back later, shall I?’ She totally ignored Mac as she looked at Jonas enquiringly.
‘No need, Yvonne; Miss McGuire was just leaving,’ Jonas said as he stood up, obviously dismissing Mac.
The fact that was exactly what Mac had been about to do did nothing to nullify the fact that Jonas was trying to get rid of her! Without any firm arrangements having been made for them to meet later today to continue this discussion…
‘There’s an Italian restaurant two streets over from this one,’ she turned to inform him briskly. ‘I’ll book a table for us there for one o’clock.’
‘Perhaps you would prefer me to book the table for the two of you?’ the blonde woman offered coolly. ‘Mr Buchanan’s name is known to the restaurant owner,’ she added pointedly as Mac looked at her enquiringly.
Mac gave the other woman a narrowed-eyed glance as she heard the edge in her tone, recognising that Yvonne Richards, beautiful and in her late twenties, was obviously a typical case of the PA who believed herself in love with her boss. A crush that Mac doubted Jonas Buchanan was even aware of.
Mac gave the other woman a saccharin-sweet smile. ‘That won’t be necessary, thank you; I know Luciano personally, too.’
‘Fine,’ Yvonne Richards bit out before turning to her employer. ‘I’ll come back when you aren’t so busy, Jonas.’ She turned abruptly on her two-inch heels and went back