Say it with Diamonds...this Christmas. Sandra Marton
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bachelor boudoir to evoke. So he’d bought three fluffy white rugs to surround the bed, and some white cane chairs for the corners. A huge plasma television now hung on the wall opposite the bed with access to every satellite television channel available. Black silk sheets were his final purchases, along with some new shades for the chrome-based bedside lamps: red, of course.
The effect at night was erotic and sensual.
When in his bedroom, Nick didn’t pretend to be anything but what he was: a very sensual man.
Which made his actions last night after the party almost incomprehensible.
Why, when he’d taken Chloe home, hadn’t he gone inside and made mad, passionate love to her? She’d been all over him like a rash at the door. Normally, he loved it when she was sexually aggressive, loved it that he didn’t have to be gentle with her. At any other time, he would have pushed her inside and had her up against the wall.
Instead her rapacious mouth had repelled him for some reason, and he found himself telling her he had a headache. A headache, for pity’s sake!
Chloe had been surprised, but reasonably understanding, sending him off with a kiss on the cheek and the advice to have a good night’s sleep.
‘You won’t get off so easily tomorrow night,’ she’d added as he walked back to his car.
Nick hadn’t gone straight home. He’d driven round and round, trying to work out why he wasn’t in Chloe’s bed right at that moment, sating his desires to a degree where he wouldn’t be capable of feeling any lust for anyone!
Then, when he’d finally come home, he’d fallen into a fitful sleep, his dreams filled with disturbingly erotic images involving the bane of his life. In one dream, Sarah had come down to the Christmas lunch wearing that minute bikini that had tormented him all those years ago. In another, she had been decorating that damned Christmas tree in the nude. In yet another, she’d been in his arms and he was kissing her the way he’d wanted to kiss her yesterday.
He’d woken from that dream incredibly aroused.
When Flora had sent him into Sarah’s bedroom to wake her this morning, he’d stared down at her sleeping form for longer than was decent, the dungeon door in his mind well and truly open. Then, when she’d waltzed down to present-giving in that sexy little nightie, he’d been consumed with a desire so strong it had taken every ounce of his will-power to keep himself in check.
Her giving him that exquisite and very expensive miniature golf set had tormented him further, giving rise to the provocative possibility that, despite her new boyfriend, she still secretly fancied him. But her rather offhand words that her present was a parting gift of gratitude had propelled Nick back to cold, hard reality.
Sarah was well and truly over her schoolgirl crush on him. He’d lost his chance with her, if he’d ever had one.
It was this last thought that was bothering him the most.
‘You should be glad she’s over you,’ he muttered as he marched towards the bathroom, stripping off his T-shirt as he went. ‘Now all you have to do is concentrate on getting through today without behaving badly.’
Nick wrenched off his jeans, before walking over to snap on the water in the shower.
‘No sarcastic remarks,’ he lectured himself as he stepped under the ice-cold spray. ‘No telling Derek you bought his girlfriend thirty-thousand-dollar earrings. And definitely no looking, no matter what she wears!’
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘LET’S go, Sarah.’
Nick’s loud command—called through her bedroom door—was accompanied by an impatient knocking.
Sarah’s bedside clock showed it was three minutes to twelve, two minutes after Nick had asked her to be downstairs.
‘Coming,’ Sarah called back after one last nervous glance in her dressing-table mirror.
She did look good: the red and white sun-dress clung to her shapely but slender body, and her choice of hairstyle—she’d put it up—showed off her new diamond earrings.
It wasn’t Sarah’s sexy appearance that had the butterflies gathering in her stomach. It was this silly charade with Derek. Nick was going to spot something strange about their relationship, she felt sure of it!
But it was too late now. Derek was on his way, having texted her a while back to say the taxi he’d ordered had just arrived and he should be at her place by twelve.
Sarah pulled her scarlet-glossed mouth back into what she hoped passed for a happy smile and hurried across the room, movement setting her earrings swinging. When she wrenched open the door, Nick glanced up from where he was leaning with his back against the gallery railing. He still looked tired, she thought, but very handsome in fawn chinos and a brown and cream striped short-sleeved shirt.
‘I’m ready,’ she said breezily.
Nick’s dark eyes swept over her from head to toe, his top lip curling slightly, as it did sometimes. ‘Yes, but ready for what?’
His sarcasm rankled, as always.
Sarah planted her hands on her hips, just above where her skirt flared out saucily. ‘It wouldn’t hurt you to say something nice to me for a change.’
His eyebrows lifted, as though she’d surprised him with her stance. ‘That’s a matter of opinion. But if you insist …’ His eyes travelled over her again, this time much more slowly.
A huge lump formed in her throat when his gaze lingered on her breasts before lifting to her mouth, then up to her eyes. If she’d been hoping to see desire in his detailed survey, however, she was doomed to disappointment.
‘You look utterly gorgeous today, Sarah,’ he said at last, but in a rather dry fashion. ‘Derek is a very lucky man.’
Sarah was tempted to stamp her foot in frustration when the doorbell rang, saving her from her uncharacteristic temper tantrum.
‘That’ll probably be Derek now,’ she tossed off instead, and bolted for the stairs, eager to answer the door without Nick being too close a witness to their greeting.
It wasn’t Derek at the door, but an attractive, thirty-something brunette wearing a wrap-around electric-blue dress and a smile that would have cut glass.
Sarah knew immediately who it was.
‘Sarah, I presume,’ the woman said archly after a swift once-over that made her ice-blue eyes even icier. ‘I’m Chloe, Nick’s girlfriend.’
Of course you are, Sarah thought tartly. Nick’s girlfriends might look different from one another—this one had a very short, chic hairdo, plus a much curvier body than the others. But underneath their varied physical features always lay a hard-nosed piece with no genuine warmth or niceness.
Sarah despised Chloe on sight.
‘Hi there,’ she managed politely before spinning round to see where Nick was. No way was she going to be caught having to make small talk with the bitch du jour.
Nick was still coming down the stairs, his expression none too happy.
‘Chloe’s here,’ she called out to him.
For a split-second, Sarah could have sworn he had no idea who she was talking about. But then the penny dropped and he hurried to the door, his disgruntled face breaking into a smile.
‘Happy Christmas, darling,’ Chloe gushed as she threw herself into Nick’s arms.
Sarah turned away so that she didn’t have to watch them kiss, her stomach contracting when she heard Chloe whisper something about giving him his main Christmas present later that night.
It was extremely fortunate that Derek chose that moment to arrive, Sarah’s nervous anticipation over their charade was obliterated in the face