Bought By A Billionaire. Kay Thorpe
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fluid movement of his body, the ripple of muscle beneath the fine cotton of his shirt, the firm male hemispheres. He must work out regularly to keep himself in such trim, she reflected, unable to keep her physical responses totally under control. Out of bed, and in it!
She had taken a seat by the time he had the drinks poured. He made no attempt to sit down beside her, but chose a chair set at right angles, crossing one leg comfortably over the other. The action pulled up his trouser leg enough to reveal a narrow area of bare, bronzed skin. He would be that colour all over, came the thought, hastily thrust aside.
‘So what do you suggest we talk about while we wait for our meal to arrive?’ he asked. ‘Or perhaps it should be my place, as host, to open the conversation?’
‘I really don’t care,’ she said, fighting to maintain a composure threatening to disintegrate any moment.
‘So tell me how you enjoyed your trip to Paris last month.’
Green eyes widened in startled question. ‘How do you know I was in Paris last month?’
‘I’ve made it my business to know all your movements over the past two years,’ he returned without turning a hair. ‘I know, for instance, that there isn’t now, and hasn’t been, any serious relationship with a man.’
‘You’ve been spying on me?’ She was too stunned at the moment for anger.
The dark head inclined. ‘I prefer to call it taking an interest. Had you become involved with anyone, it would have been a short-lived affair.’
‘Oh, I see.’ The anger was coming through now, bringing her to the edge of her seat, eyes stormy. ‘Having had the temerity to refuse you, there was no way I should be allowed to find anyone else!’
‘Correct.’ There was no note of apology in his tone. ‘Did you really think I was going to simply forget the things you said to me? Do I need to remind you of what you did say?’
Leonie bit her lip, the memory only too clear in her mind. She’d gone overboard in an effort to blot out any temptation to say yes—to burn all bridges in effect. Telling him he was the last man on earth she’d ever consider marrying had been the least of it. Even now, the invective she’d used to ram home the message made her curl up inside.
‘So I went a little too far,’ she said stiffly. ‘I admit that. But it’s no excuse for what you’ve been doing. People go to jail in this country for stalking someone.’
The shrug was dismissive. ‘Considering that you yourself never noticed you were under surveillance, I doubt if any such accusation would be taken seriously. Anyway, the question is of little importance now. I’ve found other means of achieving redress.’
‘The word you’re looking for is revenge,’ she retorted, taking a hold on herself. ‘Hardly an honourable aim!’
‘But satisfying.’ Vidal straightened as a knock came on the outer door. ‘Dinner, I believe.’
The waiter who wheeled in the loaded white-clothed trolley was unobtrusive in his movements, transferring the contents to the table in an off-set dining area without speaking. He looked happy enough, however, with the size of the tip Vidal handed over.
‘Come and eat,’ the latter invited when the door closed in the man’s wake. ‘You’re fond of seafood, if I recall.’
The last thing Leonie felt like at present was eating, but there was nothing to be gained by refusing. She got up, unsurprised by the unsteadiness in her lower limbs, and went to the table, passing by the door leading to the bedroom on the way. In an hour or so they would be in there doing what she was here to do. Whether Vidal would be prepared to let her leave immediately afterwards was open to question, but the ordeal had to be over some time. All she cared about—all she’d allow herself to care about—was getting her father back on track.
As anticipated, the meal was excellent, though so far as Leonie was concerned she might as well have been chewing on sawdust. Vidal allowed her just one glass of wine, declaring his wish to have her compos mentis, not falling asleep on him.
‘You’re actually admitting that a woman could fall asleep on you?’ Leonie asked with deliberation, drawing a brief smile.
‘Only under the influence of too much alcohol.’
‘It must be great,’ she murmured, ‘to have so much confidence in one’s abilities!’
For the first time there was a genuine amusement in his eyes. ‘Unlike a woman, any man lacking confidence in that particular ability could find himself devoid of it altogether. An unfair difference in physiology.’
‘Meaning a woman can pretend to be aroused?’
‘Precisely.’ Dark eyes glinted. ‘Not that I anticipate any problem in that direction.’
‘Being the expert you are.’
The sarcasm left him unmoved. ‘If you think to annoy me, forget it. I intend enjoying every moment of our time together. That means that you enjoy it too. And you will.’
Leonie bit back a caustic retort. She could vow to remain physically unresponsive to him, but the way her body reacted to his very presence made it unlikely. All she could do was keep those responses to the barest minimum.
The meal ended with a chocolate mousse that melted in the mouth and was nigh on impossible not to get pleasure from. Leonie took her time eating it, savouring every mouthful. Vidal watched her without comment, though with no sign of impatience, his whole attitude one of a man totally at ease with himself. She longed to disrupt that equanimity, but could think of nothing short of another burst of invective that might do the trick. With her father’s fate still in the balance, she couldn’t afford to take any risks.
Finished at last, she laid down her spoon, eyeing him across the width of the table with conflicting emotions, both hating the thought of what was to come, and yet undeniably stirred by it too: mind not strong enough to exercise full control over matter, she concluded ruefully.
‘So, let’s get it over with, then,’ she said. ‘The sooner I’m out of here, the better!’
Vidal linked both hands behind his head, leaning back in his chair to view her with irony. ‘Time is of no importance. We have the whole night ahead of us.’
Leonie had been more than half expecting it, but that didn’t mean she had to accept it without question. ‘If my humiliation is all you’re after, you don’t have to go to such lengths,’ she said. ‘In fact, you’ve already succeeded.’
‘Suggesting that I should be content to let it go at that?’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve waited too long for this moment. I should mention, too, that if you hoped to deter me by dressing like some secretary, you were sadly mistaken. I find the severity of your clothing a tantalising contrast with what I know lies beneath.’
‘You have no idea what lies beneath!’ Her indignation was ridiculous in the circumstances, Leonie knew, but she was too incensed to care. ‘I didn’t allow things to get that far between us!’
His smile was slow, his enjoyment at her discomfiture obvious. ‘I don’t need my eyes to tell me what my hands have already discovered. Your skin is smooth as silk, your breasts firm and full, your waist slender above the curve of hip that so excites a man, your—’
‘Stop it!’ Leonie’s cheeks were burning, her whole body tingling. ‘I don’t want to hear any more!’
‘You’ll be hearing a lot more than that before the night is over,’ he said. ‘Speech can be as much a part of lovemaking as action.’
‘You call what you’ve got in mind making love?’ she retorted scathingly.
His lips slanted again. ‘Had I been capable of what you apparently have in mind, I would have taken you that way two years ago. As I already told you, I intend you to enjoy our time together as much as I will myself. But not quite yet,’ he added. ‘First