Lady Surrender. Carole Mortimer
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marriage,’ she drawled. ‘Not so long ago people would have thought there was something wrong with you,’ she added tauntingly.
His hand covered hers as it rested on his arm, crushing down on her fingers in a gesture that, to an observer, must look loving. ‘We both know how wrong that assumption would be about me,’ he ground out between clenched teeth, his eyes blazing with anger. ‘Don’t we?’ His hand was even more painful on her fingers.
‘Well, of course we do, darling,’ she gave him a coy smile, triumph in her eyes that she had managed to unnerve him once again. ‘I was merely pointing out that we shouldn’t delay the wedding too much longer.’
His mouth tightened ominously. ‘I don’t believe in rushing into these things.’
She gave a light laugh. ‘We wouldn’t be rushing into anything. I don’t—–’ her next taunt was cut off by angrily firm lips descending roughly on to hers, the brief contact of Aaron Grantley’s mouth showing her just how furious he was. It was the first time she had known such intimacy from a man since—–
‘I think it’s time I left,’ Molly gently teased, standing up. ‘I hope you didn’t mind my collecting the address book.’ Once again she avoided Charly’s gaze. ‘I—I’ll see you both tomorrow.’
‘I—–’
‘Yes, we’ll be there,’ Aaron cut in firmly, not wanting to give her the chance to say anything that might be even more damning, standing up to join Molly at the door. ‘Tell Matt I’ll call him tomorrow.’
‘So will I,’ Charly put in determinedly, making no effort to join them as Aaron saw the other woman to the lift.
She was standing in front of the window trying to decide how she felt about that kiss when she sensed he had come back into the room. She didn’t actually have a lot to compare his kiss with, certainly hadn’t been expecting it, or he could have been deeply embarrassed by her violent recoil from the caress. She finally decided she didn’t know how she felt about the kiss.
‘You will not call Matt tomorrow or at any other time,’ Aaron ground out icily.
She straightened her shoulders, her expression cold as she turned to face him. ‘I won’t?’ she drawled.
‘No,’ he rasped. ‘You’ve had your fun here tonight, but now it’s over. I want you to pack your things and move out of here right now.’
‘And where would I go?’
‘Find some other fool to support you in the life to which you’ve become accustomed,’ he scorned. ‘I really don’t care where you go—just do it.’
She shrugged. ‘Matt isn’t going to be too pleased about this.’
Aaron Grantley scowled. ‘Matt will soon realise what an idiot he’s been!’
‘You think so?’ she frowned thoughtfully.
‘I know so,’ he said contemptuously.
‘You probably know him better than I do,’ she nodded consideringly. ‘But I have no intention of moving out of here tonight.’
‘Now look, lady—–’
‘Will you stop calling me “lady” in that contemptuous tone,’ she snapped coldly. ‘We both know you consider me to be the opposite!’
He looked at her with narrowed eyes, his lashes a sooty black against the green depths. ‘With that damned haughty manner of yours you could find yourself an earl or something, why pick on Matt?’
‘He’s a very eminent doctor—–’
‘But hardly jet-set material.’
Her mouth twisted scornfully. ‘I’m not interested in the so-called jet-set,’ she dismissed. ‘I like my men intelligent as well as interesting; Matt is both of those things,’ she added pointedly.
‘Implying I’m not?’
Her brows rose coolly. ‘I thought the idea was for me not to find you attractive?’ she mocked.
He drew in a ragged breath. ‘It is!’
She looked at him with derision. ‘And I can assure you I don’t.’
‘I’ll make your excuses to Molly and Matt tomorrow,’ he ground out. ‘You just make sure you’re gone from here before Matt comes up to town again.’
‘And if I’m not?’
‘You don’t have the diamond bracelet yet, Charly,’ he reminded harshly. ‘Something Matt, for all his ability as a doctor, isn’t able to buy for you.’
Something snapped inside her, a rage towards him and other arrogant men like him. ‘I don’t want your bracelet, Mr Grantley,’ she bit out tautly. ‘I helped you out tonight because—because I know how Molly must be feeling at this moment.’
‘Been replaced a few times yourself, have you?’ he derided contemptuously.
She flushed fiery red in her anger. ‘As a matter of fact, yes!’
He nodded. ‘Small, chubby blondes aren’t exactly in fashion at the moment, are they?’
‘I may be small and blonde, but I am certainly not chubby,’ Charly snapped.
‘Well-endowed?’ he taunted.
‘Curvaceous,’ she bit out, thinking how ridiculous this conversation had become. ‘I don’t have the time for this,’ she claimed grimly. ‘I had an appointment half an hour ago; I’d like to get there soon.’
‘I don’t have the time to waste either,’ he rasped. ‘Some rich bitch is trying to buy my deal from under me, and I consider that a hell of a lot more important than arguing with you!’
She raised light brown brows with practised calm. ‘Aren’t you rich yourself, Mr Grantley?’ she drawled mockingly.
‘I worked for what I have,’ he said harshly. ‘I didn’t have it handed to me with my gold spoon.’
‘I believe the saying is “silver spoon”,’ she corrected softly.
‘Not in this case,’ he scorned grimly. ‘It’s been gold for Rocharlle Hart from day one. She was born into money, married money, and now she’s trying to use some of that money to ruin a property deal I badly want.’
‘Maybe Mrs Hart wants it as badly,’ Charly derided his arrogance.
‘Women like her don’t have wants or needs,’ he dismissed roughly. ‘Only a quest for power.’
‘You don’t sound as if you’ve ever met her, so how can you know—–’
‘I know,’ he cut in firmly. ‘Just as I know you aren’t going to see Matt again.’
‘That might be a little difficult—–’
‘I could make things very unpleasant for you if you don’t agree to this.’
His threat only angered her more. ‘Mr Grantley, perhaps there’s something you should know—–’
‘About you?’ he scorned. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘You might regret not listening to me,’ she suggested with soft emphasis.
‘I doubt that.’
She shrugged. ‘It’s important.’
‘Just as making sure you have varnish on your toenails is important to you, no doubt!’ he looked contemptuously at the offending toenails, the varnish the same deep shade as her fingernails. ‘You look like a damned slave-girl!’
‘Is it a crime to want to look nice?’ she snapped defensively, sick of his criticism.
‘I