Australian Bachelors: Masterful Magnates: Purchased: His Perfect Wife. HELEN BIANCHIN
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right, and the main bedroom suite is to the left.’
There was also a home office, a media room, a guest powder-room and a small utility room, Lara noted as she followed Wolfe through to a spacious main suite with panoramic views and an adjoining en suite comprising marble and glass with luxurious fittings, folded fluffy towels and a double vanity along one wall.
‘We’ll shower and change, unpack then send out for food.’
It sounded like a plan. She hadn’t slept on the flight from Hawaii, and her body still needed to adjust to New York time.
‘You go first. I’ll begin unpacking.’
‘We could share.’
She spared him a quick look, caught the faintly teasing humour curving his generous mouth, and shook her head.
‘No?’ He began discarding his outer clothes, and she deliberately kept her attention averted as he moved into the en suite.
She retained a vivid memory of the shower they’d shared … had it only been yesterday, or had it been the night before? She attempted to do the time conversion, then gave it away; ‘whenever’ seemed close enough.
Her body still felt sensitive from his touch, and the mere thought of what they’d shared caused sensation to spiral deep inside, heating her blood and sending her pulse-rate racing to a faster beat.
Unpack, she bade silently, then when Wolfe re-enters the bedroom collect a change of clothes and go shower.
Hadn’t she spent the past week sharing a hotel suite with him? Why the sudden onset of nerves? It hardly made sense.
She was almost done when he emerged from the bathroom, and she gathered up what she needed and entered the room he’d just vacated.
Extraction fans had removed the steam, but the soap he’d used and his cologne teased the warm air, bringing vividly alive the effect he had on her senses.
Oh, for heaven’s sake! Go with the prosaic—think food, and whether the pantry and freezer were stocked sufficiently to prepare a meal. Besides, cooking would give her something to do …
Lara dressed in jeans and a sweater, caught her hair into a loose knot atop her head, added moisturizer, took a deep breath and retraced her steps to the lounge.
Wolfe stood looking out at the city skyline, seemingly intent in conversation on his mobile phone, and she took a moment to admire his tall frame, the snug fit of his jeans and the black knit sweater which hugged and emphasized his broad shoulders.
He was something else … all harnessed power, and a degree of ruthlessness apparent beneath a sophisticated façade.
Passion, he possessed it in spades, and an intimate knowledge of precisely how to please a woman. A faint shiver slithered deliciously down her spine at the mere thought. Followed almost immediately by just how many women he’d undoubtedly slept with, where sleep hadn’t featured on the agenda.
Did he have a mistress? A variety of obliging girlfriends who had yet to discover he’d entered into marriage?
Don’t go there, a tiny voice warned.
Instead, go check out the kitchen, and if nothing else compile a list of staples and whatever else is needed.
That was where Wolfe found her, engrossed in inspecting the pantry shelves.
‘I’ve ordered in.’ He crossed to where she stood, and saw the sheet of paper and pen in her hand. ‘This can wait until tomorrow.’
Sure it could, but she needed to do something.
‘Do you entertain guests here in the apartment, or do you prefer to dine out?’
‘And this is important now?’
He sounded mildly amused, and she added something to her list. ‘Yes.’
Hands closed over her shoulders and turned her to face him. ‘You’re as nervous as a cat on hot bricks. Why?’
Oh hell. He saw more than she wanted him to know, and she resorted to faint cynicism. ‘Because I’m shy?’
‘It makes a refreshing change.’
‘From the women who beat a path to your door?’
His eyes gleamed with humour. ‘Those too.’
‘Maybe we should notify the media—Wolfe Alexander has moved out of the singles market.’
‘I doubt it’ll be necessary.’
‘Because?’
‘An outstanding invitation to attend a charity fundraiser tomorrow night.’
Oh my. She was being flung in at the deep end. ‘How … nice. I get to do the dress-up thing and play pretend.’
‘You’ll manage.’
‘Of course.’ The facetiousness was intended, and he responded with a soft, husky laugh that was interrupted by the buzz of the in-house intercom.
Wolfe crossed the room and checked the visual screen, the delivery person’s ID, then released the entry security-door. ‘Our food.’
He’d ordered in Chinese. It was delicious, and she said so as they used chopsticks to taste the contents of various containers. When they were done, they gathered the empty containers together and put them in the trash.
‘Coffee?’
‘Hot, black and strong. I need to put in a few hours at the laptop.’
‘No problem. I’ll channel-surf the cable network.’
It was pleasant to relax away from his disturbing presence, and she settled in a comfortable leather recliner chair, found a movie on-screen that captured her attention and soon became engrossed in the storyline and the actors who played their parts.
It was around midnight that Wolfe found her there, and he stood for a moment, regarding her sleeping form in repose. She looked peaceful, and for a moment he contemplated leaving her there. Except there was every chance she’d wake disoriented by her surroundings.
Not a good option.
With care, he lifted her into his arms and carried her through to the main suite.
She didn’t stir as he placed her on the bed. The slip-ons came easily off her feet, but removing her jeans required some finesse … so too did her sweatshirt.
He managed without waking her, just, and he crossed round to the opposite side of the bed, discarded his own clothes and slid in beneath the covers.
Lara woke to discover she was alone in the large bed, and within seconds the flight, the apartment … all came flooding back. So too did the recollection she’d fallen asleep while viewing television.
Dressed, she recalled.
Unless she’d sleepwalked … something she’d never done in the past … there was only one person who could have transferred her from the media room to the bedroom and removed every item of clothing except her briefs.
Wolfe.
‘You’re awake.’
Her eyes widened as Wolfe crossed the room to her side and extended a cup of hot, aromatic coffee.
Fully dressed in dark tailored trousers, a silk tie knotted over a pale-blue cotton shirt, and an unbuttoned waistcoat, he resembled the omnipotent city businessman she knew him to be.
Impressive, vaguely forbidding, compelling.
She was at a distinct disadvantage by comparison as she took hold of the sheet and shifted into a sitting position … only to have the sheet slip from her grasp.
A frantic tug with one hand accompanied by a swift attempt at modesty with the other more or less saved the day, although she was powerless