Out of Hours...Her Ruthless Boss. Кейт Хьюит
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him for two years,’ Lizzie replied, mindful of Cormac’s warning to stick to the truth as much as possible.
‘And then you just fell in love?’The sneer in Lara’s voice was obvious, as was the disbelief.
‘Pretty much.’ Lizzie took a gulp of orange juice.
‘Really.’ Lara sipped her own drink. ‘Cormac never seemed the marrying type to me.’
‘You know him well?’ Lizzie didn’t want to hear the answer, but she knew Lara would volunteer the information in one way or another.
‘Oh, yes.’ Lara laughed, a rich, knowing chuckle. ‘Cormac and I go way back. Before Geoffrey,’ she added with heavy emphasis. The meaning couldn’t have been clearer.
‘You had an affair, I suppose,’ Lizzie said after a moment, and was gratified to see Lara look both surprised and discomfited. ‘I know all about his women,’ she confided, shaking her hair back over her shoulders. ‘Not their names, of course, but I’d have to have had blinkers on not to know that Cormac is popular with the ladies.’ She glanced over at him—confident, relaxed, deep in discussion with Jan—and felt her heart twist. Was he manipulating him, too? Of course he was. Just as he’d manipulated her.
She smiled back at Lara, a smile of knowledge, of power, of confidence. Nothing she felt at the moment. ‘I suppose he was just looking for the right woman, wasn’t he?’ she said. ‘And now he’s found her.’
Lara’s eyes were like pewter as she stood up. ‘I suppose he has,’ she said coolly, and turned away.
Lizzie took another sip of orange juice. She felt dizzy, strange, and she wasn’t even drinking alcohol. She thought of the words she’d spoken to Lara, almost wished them to be true.
He changed…for me.
Ha!
Cormac was never going to change, and she didn’t even want him to. She hated him. Almost.
Except right now, glancing over at him as he talked to Jan, she wondered. She wondered just what drove him, what had flickered in his eyes like desperation, what made him…him.
Who was he?
No one you want to know, she told herself grimly, and turned to smile cheerily at Hilda.
She wasn’t what he had expected. The realisation both surprised and annoyed him. He didn’t like variables. Uncertainties.
He made sure he never had any.
Yet Lizzie, Cormac acknowledged with a faint frown, was just that. Unpredictable. One minute she was nervous, timid, easily controlled. The next she resisted, fought back, bared her tiny claws.
She was like a baby tiger, a kitten, trying to fight against the leader of the pack. At least, he thought, she was learning that with him she couldn’t win.
Still, she required careful handling.
He turned back to Jan, tried to focus on his lengthy lecture about the island’s history, the need to preserve it.
He knew all this already, had researched Sint Rimbert and the Hassell family so he could practically recite it all himself.
He prided himself on being meticulous.
Yet he hadn’t been meticulous about Lizzie. He hadn’t known her well enough to realise how she would disturb him, how he would desire her.
That had been a surprise—pleasant, but unexpected. He’d never considered Lizzie Chandler in a sexual way until he’d seen her in that grubby bra, looking defiant and vulnerable and strangely sexy.
Seduction was a weapon. Cormac used it well. It was an enjoyable line of attack, but he would have to choose his moment carefully. He had a feeling that Lizzie was perfectly capable of ruining everything simply because she thought her feelings had been hurt.
Idly Cormac found himself remembering how soft, how silky her hair had been, twined between his fingers. He wondered if her waist was as slender as it seemed, so that his own two hands could span it. If her breasts would fill his palm, and if her skin was as smooth and golden all over as it was in the parts he could see.
Lust, pure and simple. He had to be careful.
Someone laughed and Cormac turned to see Dan talking to Jan. Jan clearly approved of the American, the devotion he poured on with saccharine adoration.
Dan was playing the part, Cormac thought, and playing it well. He’d dismissed Stears as a second-rater, and one who wasn’t bothering to charm Jan. Even his wife looked sulky and bored. But the Whites—they were a threat.
Cormac watched as Dan rested a loving hand on his wife’s bump and she clasped her own hand over his. It was a simple, intimate gesture, barely noticeable, and yet the very carelessness of it made him realise how artificial his relationship with Lizzie really was.
They didn’t touch each other with careless spontaneity, easy affection. Every movement was calculated, tense.
Fake.
If Hassell didn’t guess, he had a feeling Stears would, and then he’d whisper it into Jan’s ear. Even though he didn’t think Hassell would believe such poison, he didn’t care for the man to have doubts…especially when he planned to tell him later of their divorce.
It would be easy enough for a man like Hassell to change his mind, wriggle out of the contract. Make a mess.
Cormac took a sip of his drink, wondered again why it mattered so much. Why he’d taken this risk. He could have let it go. He’d let other commissions pass.
But not this one.
‘So, congratulations are in order, it would seem,’ Geoffrey murmured, moving to sit next to Cormac. ‘Funny how quickly you married.’
‘When you know, you know,’ Cormac replied blandly.
‘Exactly.’ Geoffrey smiled, and Cormac almost laughed to think how someone like Stears could actually believe he had some kind of power. ‘And I think I know.’
‘You’re losing me, Stears.’ He spoke in a bored drawl.
‘I wonder,’ Geoffrey mused, ‘if I searched in public records for your marriage licence, what would I find?’
‘I’d love to see you explain such detective work to Jan,’ Cormac replied. ‘Forget about it, Stears.’
‘I’m not going to stand by and watch a man like you get this commission,’ Stears hissed.
Cormac swivelled to regard him with cold, blank eyes. ‘A man like me?’ he queried politely.
Geoffrey smirked. ‘You’ve clawed your way to the top, haven’t you, Douglas? You still bear the scars. I know people are impressed with your designs, your drive, but you don’t belong. You never did and you never will.’
Cormac gave a slight shake of his head. ‘People are looking, Geoffrey. I think you might want to calm yourself.’
‘You’d do anything to get a commission,’ Stears continued in a low, vicious voice. ‘And I for one am going to make damn sure you don’t get it.’ He moved away on the pretext of refreshing his drink and Cormac watched him go, his lips tightening in resolve.
Geoffrey didn’t scare him; the man didn’t even bother him. But he was a variable that needed to be considered.
He glanced at Lizzie, chatting now with Hilda, watched as her slender fingers brushed at a wisp of hair. She smiled, and he felt a tightening in his gut.
He knew a way to silence Stears and his own stirrings. Glancing at Dan and Wendy, he knew he and Lizzie couldn’t fake the real thing.
They could have the real thing.
Or close to it.
He could seduce her.
It might