Sweet Vixen - Page 21

'What's so funny, all of a sudden?'

'Nothing,' she s

aid, not quite removing the grin from her face, seeing and understanding his wariness. He didn't trust her any more than she trusted him. 'You're right, of course. When do we do it?'

'Do what?' he asked, very still.

'The feature. I agree. Isn't that what you wanted?'

He recovered himself. 'What made you change your mind?'

She shrugged, aiming for maximum annoyance. 'But I still think you would be wiser to get someone else.'

'No. You're the one who gave me the idea. You're a little on the voluptuous side for photographic modelling, but that's to our advantage in this case.' He looked her over again, but this time it was completely dispassionately and Sarah felt none of her former embarrassment. 'You've got good skin tone, and eyes and teeth ... we may have to do something with your hair—'

'Not cut it,' she said quickly, touching the dark mass protectively. There were limits to what her newly restored sense of humour would take.

He shrugged. 'That's up to Teresa Grey, our beauty consultant. She and a fitter will be arriving on Wednesday with the dresses. The complete collection won't be sent out until just before it's to be shown.'

'Wednesday! So soon?'

'I rang the salon on Friday and gave them your measurements, plus the selection which Julie and I had chosen . . . they're probably being made up right now. Time is of the essence, I want to see the page proofs before I leave or it will mean sending them to me in London for approval—and frankly I'd prefer that not to happen. A leak at this stage of any of the designs could prove extremely costly.'

Only his first few words were important, the rest she recognised as a red herring.

'You gave them my measurements on Friday, before you'd even asked me? That was taking things for granted, wasn't it?'

'It was a calculated risk, I'm used to taking those,' he said coolly. 'Naturally I was relying heavily on your practical good sense, though sometimes you show remark­ably little of it.'

Now that he had what he wanted he was prepared to be flippant. Sarah glared at him as he unfolded his graceful length from the chair and strolled over to the small french doors which opened out into a tiny courtyard at the side of the house, lined with tubs of flowering plants and ornamental trees. It was intended to be a little haven of peace but Sarah thought the clutter too studied. Her own tangle of half-wild shrubbery was much more satis­factory.

It really was unfair that the man had so much going for him, Sarah thought as Max braced himself with effortless elegance against the door jamb. It was distracting trying to carry on an argument in the face of such stunning good looks, and even more demoralising when you realised that he had the brains to match. A natural winner.

'We can do the "before" shots on Tuesday, they shouldn't take very long,' he was saying without turning his head. 'Bring in a few clothes tomorrow and we'll choose what we want. Wednesday we'll do the fittings and let Teresa take a look at you. The actual shooting will probably take three or four days, full days.'

'Well, don't expect me to shout for joy when you wave your magic wand,' she said.

'Why? Don't you want to be the belle of the ball? Have the princes paying homage at your feet? Perhaps you're the type who prefers to do the kneeling, though I can't quite see you playing the role of passive submission with any great conviction.'

She refused to acknowledge the sexual innuendo.

'I certainly wouldn't go down on my knees before you,' she scorned. 'I'm a little choosier.'

'More than a little, from what I can gather,' he said obliquely, then settled more comfortably against the door. 'Anyway, I can think of far more interesting places for a woman to be than at my feet. Pliancy bores me.'

'What a shame, and you must meet so much of it,' Sarah said in a breathless little-girl voice, his conceited impudence raising her hackles as usual.

He laughed. 'You forget when you smile so sweetly that you also show those needle-sharp teeth! Personally, I find the struggle between predator and prey far more stimulat­ing than a submission without a fight.'

She walked into the trap with charming naivety.

'The idea of man as the predator is rather dated isn't it? Women are no longer hobbled by male prejudices.' That wasn't quite true, as she had good reason to know. Several times she had been the victim of one particular male prejudice—the assumption that because she was a young widow she must be sexually frustrated, only too willing to fall into bed with a man, any man, at the mere suggestion of interest. Some of the men she had met hadn't even had the decency to wrap up their opinion in courtesy and had appeared surprised when she very firmly disabused them. She had long ago determined that peer pressure would not rule her life.

'This is the liberated half of the century,' she went on hardily. 'But perhaps at your age one does tend to live in the past.'

'I wasn't referring to man, little girl,' came the silky reply. 'Woman has always held the ultimate power. What chance do we poor males stand against the honeyed webs that are woven around us?'

'None, if you're weak-minded.'

Tags: Susan Napier Billionaire Romance
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