Carole Mortimer Romance Collection. Carole Mortimer
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the villa in no way prepared Juliet for the back of it; there was a huge swimming-pool glistening in the sunshine, a beautiful flower-covered patio to one side, with loungers arranged amid the fragrant beauty, and a jug of iced fruit juice sitting on one of the tables. From the two glasses that sat next to the jug Juliet guessed that Liam had been expecting her any time now—or there was someone else in the villa with him.
‘Help yourself.’ He indicated the fruit juice. ‘I would offer to get it for you, but the mood you’re in you’re likely to refuse it!’ he added in an amused voice.
She was behaving childishly, she knew that, and it didn’t help that he was pointing it out to her, but she did hate this feeling of being manipulated. It wasn’t a feeling that sat well on her shoulders at all.
But to have refused the juice would have been pure madness on her part, considering how hot it was and just how thirsty she was too after her journey.
She gratefully sat down on one of the loungers, poured two glasses of juice, one for Liam and one for herself, and drank thirstily. It was delicious, and seemed to be a combination of orange and grapefruit juice.
‘Better?’ Liam sat down next to her, sipping at his own juice as he looked at her with mocking blue eyes.
‘Much,’ she nodded, looking about her appreciatively at the panoramic views down to the deep blue sea.
‘Does this “damned villa” meet with your approval?’ he drawled.
She turned sharply back to him. ‘It’s very nice,’ she bit out tautly.
‘I think so,’ he nodded, relaxing back on the lounger, the towel shifting to reveal the considerable length of his muscular legs.
Juliet looked away, feeling uncomfortable again—this time because of the presence of this half-naked man. Although Liam seemed completely unconcerned with his lack of clothing. And why shouldn’t he be? This was his home, his ‘retreat’; he could walk around completely naked if he chose to, although she was relieved that he wasn’t!
She did, however, have a slight puzzle over why he should have invited her here to his obviously very private domain in the first place; it was obviously a very private place of his, had none of the overwhelming luxury of the hotel she had just left, and seemed to be somewhere where he came to relax completely, away from all his business pressures.
And she did feel very alone with him here, apparently several miles away from other habitation…
He sat up suddenly, and Juliet made an involuntary movement backwards. Liam frowned across at her. ‘I was just going to suggest that we go for that swim now that you’ve cooled down a little…’ He studied her intently, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
She swallowed hard, realising that she was behaving like some gauche teenager rather than the twenty-seven-year-old businesswoman she wanted Liam to think her. She just wasn’t used to being around partially clothed men, under any circumstances…
She nodded abruptly. ‘I’ll go and get my costume from the car.’
‘Does that mean I have to put one on too?’ Liam said softly.
Her eyes widened; he wasn’t wearing anything under that towel! Oh, God…! ‘I think that might be best,’ she told him tightly as she stood up. ‘In the circumstances.’
‘And what circumstances might those be?’ Liam stood up too, dangerously close to her. ‘The fact that you were my father’s mistress?’ he added scathingly.
Juliet gasped at this unexpected attack. ‘I——’
‘Because you’re completely safe with me, Juliet,’ he rasped harshly. ‘In the circumstances!’
‘I was not your father’s mistress!’ she protested incredulously.
‘Weren’t you?’ He turned away disgustedly to enter the villa through the huge open glass sliding doors.
Juliet stared after him, too stunned to move, blinking back the tears that had suddenly blinded her. It had never occurred to her, or, she was sure, to William either, that such an assumption could be made about their relationship. By anyone. William had been the father she had never known, especially after Simon’s death, and it was unthinkable that Liam should now make such an accusation.
But he had made it. Obviously believed it. And, with William dead, she had no way of proving otherwise.
And why should she? Liam made no secret of the fact that he felt nothing but contempt for his father—a man she had loved, and who, she was sure, had loved her in return. She owed Liam no explanations about a father whose funeral he hadn’t even bothered to attend.
Once she had got over William’s sudden death from a heart attack, she had informed Liam’s London office of his father’s funeral, and had been stunned when he hadn’t even turned up for that.
The wording of William’s will made it obvious that he had wanted to heal the rift between himself and his son—even if only after his death—which was why she had felt honour-bound at least to contact Edward Carlyle and tell him of the arrangements. The fact that he hadn’t come had told her that he didn’t have the same wish to heal the rift. It was only when it had become obvious that she couldn’t run the business without his cooperation that she had decided to contact him again.
And how she wished she hadn’t had to; she hated the way he spoke about William so scathingly.
She was still sitting on the lounger when Liam came back out of the villa a few minutes later, wearing dark blue swimming-trunks now. His body was lean and fit and deeply tanned, and his hair had dried to a deep gold.
‘Changed your mind about the swim?’ he derided, poised on the edge of the pool.
She had changed her mind about everything concerning him. She should have known what sort of man he was when he hadn’t returned for William’s funeral, when he’d continued to ignore all her letters and telephone calls. She was wasting her time even trying to talk to him, was putting herself through unnecessary humiliation when it was obvious that he had no real intention of talking to her about Carlyle Properties. He never had had.
‘I have to go,’ she told him abruptly, standing up. ‘This was a mistake.’
Liam arched dark blond brows. ‘Any more of a mistake than flying out here in the first place?’ he bit out scathingly.
He was right; it had been a mistake, Liam had no intention of being co-operative over his father’s company.
‘It appears not,’ she accepted contemptuously. ‘I would have thought you owed your father——’
‘I owe William Carlyle nothing!’ he cut in forcefully, a nerve pulsing in his cheek as he glared across at her, his eyes glittering fiercely. ‘He only had one son—Simon. Did he never tell you that?’ he scorned.
Juliet blinked across at him. It had been so long since anyone had mentioned Simon. She and William, by tacit agreement, had never talked about him; the memories were too painfully deep. And now Liam was opening up a wound that had never really had the chance to heal…!
She moistened suddenly dry lips. ‘Simon is dead.’ Her voice broke huskily.
‘And so was I, for over ten years. William can’t just suddenly claim our relationship now that he’s dead!’ Liam snarled angrily. ‘William Carlyle had no sons when he died, Juliet,’ he rasped viciously. ‘So how could he possibly have left half his company to one of them? Take the company, Juliet—I think you probably earned it!’
With that last contemptuous statement he dived smoothly into the water beneath him, surfacing seconds later to swim the length of the pool with smooth, strong strokes.
She wanted to leave—had to leave—but somehow she couldn’t move; her legs felt like lead weights.
There had been a lot of bitterness behind Liam’s words about his father, and