The Platinum Collection: An Australian Conquest: The Incorrigible Playboy / His Most Exquisite Conquest / His Bought Mistress. Emma Darcy
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as she completely lost control of her voice, shrilling, ‘What?’ at him.
‘It’s a simple question,’ Harry said reasonably. ‘Are you a virgin, yes or no?’
‘You have no right to ask me that!’ she spluttered.
He shrugged. ‘Why is it a problem?’
Anger shot to the surface. ‘It’s none of your business!’
‘I guess the answer is yes since you’re so sensitive about it,’ he tossed at her affably.
‘I am not sensitive about it!’
‘Looks that way to me.’
She glared at him, and if her eyes had been knives they would have stabbed him in a million painful places. Harry found it wonderfully exhilarating. He’d definitely got under her skin again, regardless of how firmly she had decided to keep him out.
Her jaw tightened and he knew she was gritting her teeth as she struggled to bring herself under control. Finally she gnashed out the words ‘It’s just none of your business, Harry. It is totally irrelevant to this job and I’ll thank you to remember that.’
‘Bravo!’ he said admiringly.
It confused her. ‘Bravo what?’
He grinned at her. ‘The rule book rules. Almost forgot it there for a moment, didn’t you?’
She huffed to release some of the tension he’d raised, viewing him balefully. ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t forget it.’
‘I do apologise for the transgression.’ He made a wry grimace. ‘Curiosity slipped through my usual sense of discretion. However, it does give me a better understanding of you now that I know you’re a virgin. Head stuffed with romantic dreams...’
‘I am not a virgin!’ tripped out of her mouth before she could stop the wave of exasperation he’d whipped up.
He arched his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You’re not?’
She closed her eyes. Her mouth shut into a tight thin line. Quite clearly she hated herself for biting at his bait. Harry revelled in her discomfort. Serve her right for the discomfort she’d given him last night. And it was great to have that problem box ticked off. No virginity barrier.
Another big huff. Her eyes opened into hard, piercing slits. Shards of ice came off her tongue. ‘Can we please get down to work now?’
‘Jumping to it,’ he said obligingly, hitching himself off the desk and rounding it to view the computer screen. ‘Any bookings come in this morning?’
‘Yes.’ She swung her chair around to face the computer and started working the mouse. ‘I think I’ve dealt with them correctly. If you’ll check what I’ve done...?’
For the next half hour Harry kept strictly to business, giving Elizabeth no reason to complain about his behaviour. She had a good understanding of what was required of administration. Supply issues still had to be addressed but that could wait until later. She was so uptight he decided to give her a break, let her relax for a while.
‘Before the heat of the day sets in, I’m going to call Jack Pickard to take you around the resort, show you the practical aspects of how it runs. You need to be familiar with all of it,’ he said, reaching for the telephone. ‘I’ll stand in for you here.’
‘Okay,’ she answered levelly, but the relief he sensed coming from her told him exactly what she was thinking.
Escape.
Escape from the pressure of having to keep denying what was undeniable...the constant sizzle of sexual chemistry between them.
Harry told himself he could wait.
Sooner or later it would come to a head and boil over.
Then he would have her.
* * *
Elizabeth took an instant liking to Jack Pickard. She probably would have liked anyone who took her away from Harry this morning but Sarah’s husband was a chirpy kind of guy, nattering cheerfully about the island and his maintenance job—easy, relaxing company. He was short and wiry and his weather-beaten face had deep crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes from smiling a lot. His hair looked wiry, too, a mass of unruly curls going an iron-grey.
‘Show you one of the vacant villas first.’ He grinned at her. ‘Before the new guests fly in this morning.’
‘Do they all come by helicopter?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘Uh-uh. Most come by motor launch. We meet them at the jetty and drive them around to administration. Those that fly in land on the back beach and take the wooden walkway that leads here.’
Wooden walkways led everywhere, with flights of steps wherever they were needed. The one they took to the vacant villa ran through rainforest, the lovely green canopy of foliage above it shading them from the direct heat of the sun. On either side of them were masses of tropical vegetation—palms, vines, bamboo, hibiscus, native flowers.
The villa was situated on a hillside overlooking the bay leading into the main beach. Its front porch had a lovely view and the breeze wafting in from the sea made it a very inviting place to sit in the deckchairs provided. Jack opened a sliding glass door and gestured for her to step inside.
The structure was split-level. Elizabeth entered a spacious living room—a comfortable lounge setting with coffee table facing a television set and CD player, a writing desk and chair, a counter along one wall containing a sink and a bar fridge. Above the counter were cupboards containing a selection of glasses for every kind of drink, bottles of spirits, plus tea and coffee-making facilities, a jar of home-made cookies and a selection of crackers to go with the cheese platter in the fridge, which also held a box of Belgian chocolates, fruit juice, beer, champagne, wine and plenty of drink mixers.
Up a few steps from the living area was a mezzanine bedroom containing a huge king-size bed, lots of pillows, plenty of cupboard space, bedside tables with lamps in the shape of dolphins. All the decor had a sea-and-beach theme, most of the furnishings in white and turquoise, knick-knacky things constructed from driftwood and coral and shells. White walls and polished floorboards completed the clean, airy look.
‘There’s an extensive library of books, CDs and games in the bar-lounge adjacent to the restaurant,’ Jack told her. ‘Guests can help themselves to whatever they like. You, too, Elizabeth.’
She smiled at him. ‘That’s good to know.’
Should fill in some lonely hours, she thought, once Harry was gone and she could get him out of her mind. That virgin question still had her seething, as though that was the only possible reason for not getting her pants off for him. In hindsight, she probably should have said she was, put him right off his game. On the other hand, he might have fancied himself as teacher, giving her a first experience in sex. It was impossible to pin down anything with Harry. He could slide this way or that way at the blink of an eye. Which made him so infuriating and frustrating and...
Elizabeth clamped down on those feelings, forcing herself to focus on what she was seeing here. The bathroom was positively decadent, a shower for two, a spa bath, the walls tiled in a wavy white with turquoise feature tiles and turquoise towels. The long vanity bench held two wash basins and a pretty collection of shells. Everything in the villa was clearly designed to give guests pleasure.
‘This is all fantastic,’ she commented to Jack.
He nodded agreement. ‘Sarah and I reckon Harry did a great job of it.’
‘Harry? Surely he had an interior decorator fitting out the villas.’
‘Oh, he had a professional finding the stuff he wanted, but how the villas are all decked out was his idea. His dad had an architect design how they’re built. It was his vision in the first place, but after he died, Harry took on the whole project and saw it through to completion. Did a great job of marketing it, too.’