Bought: One Night, One Marriage. Natalie Anderson
Читать онлайн книгу.
Sitting there thinking of all those poor people as you eat your chocolates and drink your champagne and decide which hunk you want to clean your car. That’s really doing your bit, Cally.’
He’d crossed the line now, and damn if he wasn’t enjoying every minute of it. Time to make a play for it. ‘I have a suggestion for you.’
She barely registered interest, she was too busy looking annoyed.
‘Let’s have a competition. Our own little thing for charity. We each start Monday morning with, say, a hundred dollars in the kitty. We fundraise. For a week. At the end of the week whoever has raised the most wins.’
‘Wins what?’ Curious now, fixed on him.
‘If you win, I’ll double the combined amounts and give it to the charity of your choice.’
‘And if you win?’ Her eyes were wide.
‘If I win then I get you for a weekend and can do whatever I want with you.’
‘Whatever you want?’ She sounded as breathless as if she’d climbed a thousand stairs.
‘You’ll be my slave.’
Cally gulped in a deep breath. And another. ‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘No.’ He smiled but searched with his eyes. ‘Not keen? You wouldn’t go far for your charity, would you? All talk. See, I was quite happy to give my time. You’re only willing to give your money.’
‘That’s not true.’ Indignation burned as she thought of the hours she’d spent at the shelter. But she wasn’t about to tell him what she did every Thursday night—and had done since she was a child. Her father had taken her, week in, week out, to stand in the kitchen and help prepare the meal. It was his way of showing her that not everyone lived in mansions with more servants than residents. And if you were fortunate enough to be born into a position in which you had both time and resource to help others, then you gave both time and resource. It was a lesson she’d embraced—never wanting to have the shallow lifestyle of her mother. Wanting to give back, wanting to be more her father’s daughter than her mother’s. She’d been going there so long she had a close bond with many of the long-term drop-ins, and had shared much with the other volunteers and the manager. It was just her small way of making a difference. Quite often it was the highlight of her week and she’d never abandon them.
So she didn’t need to prove anything to Blake McKay, did she? He could think what he liked. And as for what he was suggesting? No way.
She refused to acknowledge the imp in her head that was screaming ‘go for it’. ‘There’s a bit of a difference between cleaning a car and what you’re…implying.’
He looked amused. ‘I wouldn’t be doing anything that you didn’t agree to.’
‘I wouldn’t agree to anything like that.’
‘Then you’ve nothing to worry about, have you?’ His grin widened.
OK, so now she felt the need to prove something to him. That he wasn’t going to have it all his own way, all so easily. Not with her. She’d definitely be the one to get away. ‘Anyway, it’s more than likely I’ll raise more money than you.’
‘Indeed. All those wealthy friends you have. Make a few calls and you’ll have a few thousand just like that.’
Oh, he thought she’d do that, did he? Her eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t beg from my friends. They have enough obligations. When I fundraise I do it properly.’
‘I’m sure you do everything properly, Cally.’
The implied criticism was too much. ‘Fine. You’re on. One hundred, starting Monday. Shake hands to seal the bet.’ She held hers out across the bench, primly, a little high.
He ignored it. ‘No. A kiss to seal the bet.’
‘Fine.’ She’d show him immune—starting right now.
She watched warily as he walked around the island, turning with him so the bench was at her back and he was in front of her. He stepped so close she didn’t think she had room to breathe. One arm came either side of her and he rested his hands on the bench, totally hemming her in—strong barriers, and an even stronger set to his jaw.
Oh, dear. Her immunity was fast disappearing. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, didn’t want to reach out to him, so she tucked them behind her back and clutched at the curved edge of the stainless steel bench. Bad move, because it meant her entire torso—and below—was exposed and pushed slightly in his direction. If he leaned just a fraction closer they’d have full-body, length-to-length contact. Her breathing shortened. Could he hear her heart?
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.