Millionaire's Woman

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Not to me.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t dream of bothering you to run me back to London when you’ve only just got here,’ she said with heavy sarcasm.

‘Good.’ He had been standing looking down at her but now he sat on the bed. Cory’s senses went into hyperdrive. ‘But you aren’t going anywhere other than to do some shopping with me today, so cut out the childish tantrums and finish your tea.’ He leant forward as he spoke, depositing a firm but swift kiss on her lips before standing again and walking to the door. ‘I mean it, Cory,’ he said evenly, all amusement gone from his face and voice. ‘You’re spending the weekend here. You’re meeting my family. End of discussion.’

She glared at him, hot colour burning her cheeks. How could he make her feel like a recalcitrant child when he had been the one who was way out of line? ‘You can’t keep me here by force,’ she said tightly.

‘No, I can’t, nor would I want to.’ He stood with his hand on the door handle, eyeing her with the piercing blue gaze which seemed to look right into her soul. ‘I was being cruel to be kind last night, can’t you see that?’

‘I thought that was the excuse people normally trot out when they are caught mistreating someone or something.’

‘Then you thought wrong, in this case at least. I spoke as I did because I care, Cory. Think about it.’ He opened the door and exited the room before she could answer.

She sat, trying to ignore the dull ache in the region of her heart that his last words had produced. She wanted to stay mad at him. She needed to stay mad at him. By his own admission he had been cruel last night. How could he say he had been like that because he cared about her?

Her parents had never had sufficient interest in her to tell her any home truths, either as a child or a young woman.

The thought hit her with the force of a ten ton truck. She couldn’t remember a time when they had actually focused on her or got angry with her like Nick had done last night, she thought sickly. They had spoken sharply many times, usually to send her back to her room if she had left it for too long or if she was asking for their attention over something or other. But to take time to think about her or worry about her or even wonder why she behaved the way she did just hadn’t been in their scheme of things. They hadn’t cared enough.

She sat quite still, the tea cooling in her hand. Nick had said he cared. He’d also said he loved her before he had gone to Germany. But what exactly did he mean by that? How much? How much did he care?

With the tea now quite cold she got out of bed and carried the cup into the bathroom, tipping the contents down the basin. When she raised her head she caught sight of herself in the mirror and immediately any other thought was swept away by the sight of the scarecrow looking back at her. Her face was pale except for her eyes, which were faintly puffy and red-rimmed. Her hair gave the impression she had been pulled through a hedge backwards.

Whatever had he thought? She groaned. Even in her worst days at home she looked better than this.

Once she had showered and put a little light moisturising cream on her face she applied some careful make-up, which improved things no end. She brushed the tangles out of her hair with the help of a leave-in conditioner, looping it into a high ponytail once it was smooth and wavy.

Better. She inspected the result as she sprayed a dab of perfume on each wrist and the back of her neck. Much better.

Once in the bedroom she dressed swiftly in a sleeveless linen shift, sliding her feet into a pair of flip-flops and fixing small silver studs in her ears. She glanced into the fulllength mirror by the bed. Casual, cool, without appearing to have taken too much effort. As a damage control exercise it would have to do. She took a deep breath. Now to face Nick downstairs.

He was sitting in the breakfast room, its French doors open to the fresh scents from the garden and a row of covered dishes at one end of the big pine table. He looked up as she entered, throwing the newspaper he had been reading to one side as he rose to his feet.

He had waited to eat with her. She felt a glow of pleasure out of proportion to the act of courtesy.

‘Hi,’ he said, very quietly. ‘How about we start over again?’

She stared at him. ‘Yes, please.’

‘Does that mean shopping and lunch later?’

She nodded.

‘Good.’ He grinned at her. ‘I thought I was going to have a fight on my hands. I wouldn’t have let you go, you know.’

She wanted to ask him why but she dared not. ‘I still don’t think you put it very well,’ she said, determined to have her say before they put it behind them. ‘And that remark about William was uncalled for. But overall…’ She hesitated.

‘Overall?’

‘There was some truth in what you said.’

‘Thank you.’ The grin widened. ‘That was hellishly hard to say, wasn’t it?’ he added sympathetically.

She didn’t trust the sympathy any more than she trusted her weakness where his charm was concerned. ‘Hellishly,’ she agreed crisply, determined not to smile. ‘Could I have some juice, please?’

‘Help yourself.’ He waved a hand at the table. Besides the covered dishes there was a mountain of toast, preserves, a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice and a pot of coffee.