Millionaire's Women Part 2

She glared at him. 'I promised I'd accompany you and I wouldn't dream of being other than courteous to your guests.'

'I'm aware of that. I just thought they might find the evening something of a strain with you savaging their host at every opportunity.'

The underlying amus.e.m.e.nt in the deep voice made her want to hit him. Instead she called on all her self-control and said calmly, 'There's no question of that. I wouldn't do or say anything to embarra.s.s them.'

'So I can count on you to give the impression we're the perfect couple?'

'Utterly,' she said with biting sarcasm.

'Love's young dream even?' he drawled lazily.

The quirk to his eyebrows and complete refusal to be affronted by her bad humour brought a reluctant smile to Cory's face. Impossible man!

'That's better.' He grinned at her and it did something powerful to the ruthlessly handsome face that made her heart race. 'Now, let me give you a quick who's who of who'll be there tonight, OK? They're a nice bunch on the whole but one or two are still a bit tender after the takeover. Understandable, but not conducive to good working relations. Hence this evening.'

Cory nodded. His tone had suddenly become very businesslike and that suited her down to the ground.

By the time the Mercedes drew up outside the chrome and gla.s.s building that was Templegate she'd absorbed most of the background information Nick had given her. She knew that five of the couples were married, including the big chief, Martin Breedon, and that Martin and his wife had recently been presented with their first grandchild. 'Good talking point,' Nick said cold-bloodedly. 'Folk are always gaga over their grandchildren.' The remaining four consisted of a couple who both worked at the company and who were seeing each other, and a David Blackwell who was bringing a date.

The chauffeur opened the car door but it was Nick who a.s.sisted her out of the vehicle before saying, 'Bring the car at three, OK, unless I ring before that,' whereupon he took her arm and led her into the building.

Three o'clock? This was going to be one long night. And then Cory's mind was washed clear of everything but her immediate surroundings. The place was as expensively luxurious as she had expected and huge, but as Nick ushered her into the c.o.c.ktail bar, which was fairly buzzing, she spotted at least three celebrities without even trying.

Closing her mouth, which she knew had fallen open, and trying to appear as if she was completely au fait with the milieu, Cory took the seat Nick had pulled out for her at a table which overlooked the vast nightclub below. After glancing at the c.o.c.ktail menu, she tried to look for the least alcoholic drink. She needed to keep all her wits about her tonight and doubtless it would be one where the drinks were flowing.

'If you're not sure, how about a champagne c.o.c.ktail?' Nick suggested quietly. 'I've ordered champagne for the table.'

'Lovely.' She smiled brightly. Once he had walked across to the ma.s.sive circular bar which ran round three-quarters of the room and behind which a number of waiters were busy shaking mixers and juggling bottles with amazing dexterity, Cory studied the ingredients. Brandy, a couple of dashes of angostura bitters, dry champagne and a white sugar cube. That didn't sound too lethal, certainly not compared to the Negroni, which was comprised of Campari, sweet vermouth and gin, or a Margarita, which looked pure dynamite. And she'd make the one last.

When Nick returned she took the champagne flute with a smile of thanks, lifting it in a salutation as she said, 'To a successful evening.'

'To a successful evening and and my beautiful companion.' my beautiful companion.'

She smiled again before taking a sip of the sparkling drink. It was delicious. She could well understand why the c.o.c.ktail had been a favourite of stars of the silver screen in the forties; it epitomised the elegance and sophistication of that wonderful era beautifully.

'Well, this is very civilised.'

It could have been a pleasant social comment but she'd seen the wicked glitter in his eyes and knew he was making a point after her antagonism in the car. She decided to ignore it and take the words at face value. 'Isn't it,' she agreed lightly. 'And what a place this is. Like a film set.'

'The owner's always been a sucker for the sort of lavish decadence of the Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers age. He set out to appeal only to the rich and famous, and he succeeded. There are more film stars, models and footballers here per square yard than anywhere else in the world.'

There was something, just the merest inflexion in the deep voice, which suggested he didn't altogether approve. Cory stared at him curiously. 'You're here,' she pointed out quietly, 'so you must enjoy all that too.'

'Must I?' It was laconic. And then as she continued to keep her eyes on him, he said, 'It's amusing to drop in now and again and undeniably useful for tonight's sort of occasion.'

'But you don't like it?' she persisted.

'I didn't say that.' The blue eyes surveyed her under brows which suddenly had a moody tilt. 'It's just that I've found that wealth and fame don't always equate to good manners and acceptable behaviour. The desire to be a sensation and feeted and adored can be ugly when it becomes an obsession. Alex has made a fortune with Templegate and knows just how to keep the latest celebrity purring, whilst being able to take any tantrums and smooth ruffled plumage. I couldn't do that.'

She didn't doubt that for a minute. 'Alex?' she asked interestedly. 'Do you know the owner then?'

'We were at university together.' He paused, finis.h.i.+ng his c.o.c.ktail in one swallow before he said lazily, 'Care for another?'

'I'm fine.' She'd barely touched her own drink.

This time he raised a hand and immediately a waiter was at his side. After he'd given his order, Nick pointed out a well-known politician who had just entered the bar with a glamorous female on his arm who was easily young enough to be his daughter, if not his granddaughter, and then went on to mention other well-known faces he'd seen at Templegate. It wasn't until much later that Cory realised he'd turned the conversation away from himself most adeptly.

When the others arrived the atmosphere was a little tense at first, but Cory's misgivings about Nick's guests being standoffish were soon put to rest. With the exception of perhaps David Blackwell, the man who had brought along a date in the form of a tall willowy blonde who smiled a lot but who said little, she immediately felt at ease with them.

After c.o.c.ktails, they were led to their table in the main section of the nightclub and Cory wasn't surprised it was in a prime position at the edge of the dance floor. The food was excellent, the floor show which entertained them while they ate equally so, and with the armour of the extravagant dress in place Cory felt as good as any of the other women in their designer evening wear.

The circular shape of the table prompted dialogue in which everyone could share, and she soon realised Nick had set himself out to be both charming and amusing. He was winning them all over, she mused, finis.h.i.+ng the last of her pudding-a creamy orange charlotte-which had tasted heavenly, with real regret. Not that she would have eaten another morsel, she admitted to herself reluctantly, but each spoonful of the light, tangy dessert had been the stuff dreams were made of.

It was as the floor show ended and coffee arrived at the table that Cory noticed the look on David Blackwell's face. Everyone was laughing at something Nick had said, their amus.e.m.e.nt ably enhanced by the amount of very fine champagne which had been consumed, and David, who had just been to the men's cloakroom, was within a few feet of the table when she happened to glance his way. His bitter expression shocked her before he became aware of her gaze and immediately st.i.tched a smile in place.

What was all that about? Cory asked herself, returning David's smile briefly before she turned back to Martin on her right as the older man spoke to her. What axe was David Blackwell grinding that made him so full of resentment towards Nick? And then she shrugged the thought away, telling herself it was none of her business and that it didn't matter anyway. After tonight she wouldn't see any of them again, including Nick, so any problem or disputes between Nick and David were unimportant to her. She was here to fulfil an obligation, that was all.

As though Nick had been aware of her thoughts, he now reached out a hand and covered one of hers where it was resting on her winegla.s.s. 'Enjoying yourself?' he asked softly as her startled gaze met his. 'In spite of the reason you agreed to come?'

His flesh was warm and firm and a thousand little pinp.r.i.c.ks shot out through her nerves at his touch. Ridiculous, she told herself. Ridiculous to react like this to a man you don't know and have no particular wish to know either. 'Yes, thank you,' she returned politely, slipping her hand away from under his on the pretext of reaching for her napkin to dab at the corners of her mouth.

'Good.' If he had noticed her withdrawal he didn't comment on it. 'Let's dance.'

'What?'

Before she'd had a chance to protest he had drawn her to her feet, his cool smile was.h.i.+ng over the others as he said, 'The night's young, folks. Enjoy it.'

Before she knew where she was Cory found herself in his arms on the dance floor. There were only a few couples taking advantage of the slow, easy number the jazz combo were playing, but it wasn't that which had caused the sudden tension radiating through every nerve and sinew. His body was hard and strong, and held close to him like this his height was emphasised, making her feel fragile and feminine. It was a nice feeling. And she didn't want to have nice feelings around Nick Morgan. Neither did she want to acknowledge what the sensual scent of his aftershave was doing to her equilibrium.

She lifted her head, determined to say something to break the curiously intimate spell which seemed to have woven itself around them. His eyes were waiting for her, their blueness riveting, and causing the words to die in her throat as his body betrayed what her closeness was doing to him. 'You're one beautiful, s.e.xy woman, Cory James,' he murmured huskily.

A tingle of excitement fluttered over her skin. It was a warning and she knew it. William had said all the right things and before she'd known it she'd been in way over her head. She was never going to let that happen again. 'It's the dress,' she said, carefully and deliberately, forcing a flatness into her tone. 'Not me.'

He continued to look down at her and she prayed the trembling which had begun in her stomach wouldn't transfer itself to the rest of her body. The incredible width of his shoulders, the male squareness of his chin enhanced by the merest cleft and the ruggedness of the handsome face all proclaimed a virile masculinity which was overwhelming.

'No, it's not the dress,' he said softly, his eyes dark and intense. 'Although it's stunning.'

Stunning it might be but she regretted wearing it right now. No, no she didn't, she qualified in the next moment. She wanted to look s.e.xy and beautiful to him. But then again it was the last thing she wanted. Which didn't make sense...Their gazes were still locked and she forced herself to break it, pulling back a little and glancing round the room as she said, 'It's a present, the dress. I didn't have anything remotely good enough for this place.' Suddenly the need to make him see they were poles apart was paramount.

'Who from?'

'What?' She glanced at him again.

'A present from whom?' he asked quietly, a look on his face now that Cory couldn't quite pin down.

'Oh, my Aunt Joan.' The music had changed and now a livelier number had drawn more people on to the dance floor. Cory noticed they were the only couple still entwined but when she tried to disentangle herself from his arms they merely tightened.

'Your Aunt Joan.' His face had cleared. 'Not an admirer then?'

'An admirer?' She stared at him, mingled surprise and outrage vying for first place. 'Of course not. As if I'd accept a present like this from a man.'

'It happens.' His voice was dry.

'Not with me it doesn't.' She glared at him.

'I'm very pleased to hear it.'

He was laughing at her! Oh, not openly, but she knew amus.e.m.e.nt was there in the tone of his voice and the way the firm, hard mouth was trying not to smile. 'You can let go of me for this dance,' she said frostily.

'Perhaps I don't want to let you go.'

'People are looking.'

'Let them look.' He bent his head and skimmed her mouth with his lips. 'There, that'll give them something to talk about,' he said evenly.

For one giddy instant the room swam. The caress had been too fleeting to be called a kiss but she'd felt the contact right down to her Covent Garden shod toes. She blinked. 'Don't do that, please,' she said as firmly as her breathing would allow. 'It's not in the agreement.'

'We didn't discuss the finer points, if I remember correctly.'

Cory ignored the little flame that had been ignited deep inside and frowned at him. 'Perhaps because I thought it wasn't necessary and that you were a gentleman.'

He grinned, completely unabashed. 'Big mistake,' he said cheerfully.

She ought to be furious at the arrogance but instead she found herself trying not to smile. But she couldn't let him suspect that. 'Shall I spell it out for you then?'

'Please do,' he said politely, laughter glinting in his eyes.

'I agreed to come here tonight because I'm in your debt about Rufus, but acting as your-'

'Girlfriend?' he put in helpfully.

'Companion,' she corrected firmly, 'only necessitates the most elementary bodily contact.'

He looked as though he was enjoying himself. 'Define elementary,' he said interestedly, his hand at her waist finding bare skin through one of the carefully positioned leaf transparencies and stroking it almost absent-mindedly.

Cory took a steadying breath. 'In this context elementary means straightforward, simple.' Her skin was melting. 'Rudimentary,' she added desperately.

His head tilted as though he was considering what she'd just said. 'Sorry, can't agree to that.' His eyes danced over her hot face. 'Call it the interest on the debt if you like, but for this evening you're my consort and I'm not the kind of guy who is happy with...elementary bodily contact.'

In the same moment that the music finished Cory noticed David and the blonde at their elbow, the other man's close set eyes fastened avidly on their faces. It was enough to break the spell of Nick's closeness, and it enabled her to jerk away out of his arms. 'I'd like to sit down now, please.'

'Sure.' He took her hand, weaving his way through the couples on the dance floor and pulling out her chair for her when they reached their table.

Had David Blackwell been listening to their exchange? Cory tried to think exactly what had been said and what impression an eavesdropper might have formed as she sipped at her champagne, but it was difficult with the music and conversation all around. Making the excuse that she needed to visit the Ladies' cloakroom, she rose from the table, vitally aware of Nick's eyes on her as she left the room although she didn't glance his way.

Once in the relative quiet of the reception area she found the cloakroom-an elaborate affair of marble and mirrors-and sat down on one of the cream cus.h.i.+oned seats in the outer area to repair her lipstick. As her mind continued to dissect all that had been said on the dance floor she had to stop herself from groaning out loud. It might have sounded almost as if she was a hired escort of the most basic kind to anyone who didn't know the true facts.

She put the lipstick back in her purse, fiddling with her hair as her mind sped on. But then what she'd thought earlier still applied-she'd never see any of these people again so it didn't matter how they viewed her. She just didn't like someone like the Blackwell man getting the wrong idea, that was all. Admittedly she didn't know him but the guy gave her the creeps.

She straightened her back, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the reflection in the mirror. She wasn't going to worry about David Blackwell or anyone else for that matter. She'd fulfil her obligations tonight and make sure she went home alone in a taxi in view of Nick's earlier comments. She wasn't sure if he would be cra.s.s enough to try anything on when she'd made it clear how she felt, but she wouldn't give him the chance. The man was dangerous-she refused to qualify to herself that it was her response to him that was dangerous-and she didn't need any complications in her life at the moment.

When she stepped out of the cloakroom Cory had only taken a couple of steps when David caught hold of her wrist. He made her jump, having come up behind her, and her voice was sharp as she shook her hand free and said, 'Don't do that, please.'

'Sorry, sorry.' He was smiling but she'd noticed before that his smiles didn't reach his eyes. 'I just wanted a word with you, that's all.'

'Couldn't it have waited until we're at the table?'

'In private.' His voice was low. 'I wanted to speak to you in private, Cory.'

She didn't like the way he spoke her name in that slightly conspiratorial tone and her voice reflected this when she said, 'I don't know you. How could we have anything to discuss privately?'

'Look, I'll come clean.'

He was too close and the amount of aftershave he was wearing was making her feel nauseous. It had a sickly sweet scent with a tang of something else beneath it, much like the man himself, she suspected.

'I couldn't help overhearing what you and Nick were saying on the dance floor and I take it you aren't his actual girlfriend?'

Cory stared into the weasely face. Was this a come-on, because if it was he'd get more than he'd bargained for.

When she neither confirmed nor denied this, he went on, 'The thing is, I suppose you know he's just taken over the firm, lock, stock and barrel? A lot of people were upset at first but they've all gone quiet, pay-offs I suppose,' he added bitterly.

Where was this going? 'That's nothing to do with me.'

'I know that but-' He paused. 'Look, it was clear from what he said that he fancies you and that you aren't interested. Most women fall in adoration at his feet.' Again hot resentment came through loud and strong. 'That being the case, I'd make it worth your while if you could find out a couple of things for me.'

'What?' She stared at him in absolute amazement.

'If you just jollied him along I'm sure he'd talk to you. You know, pillow talk. You could ask him about the takeover and how people were, whether he paid on the quiet to get Martin's co-operation, things like that. I reckon I'm the only one who hasn't had a backhander and it's not fair.'

He wanted a backhander? She'd give him one right round his nasty little face if he said another word. And pillow pillow talk? How dared he? 'If you want to know anything about Mr Morgan's dealings with the rest of your a.s.sociates I suggest you ask him yourself,' Cory said icily. 'OK?' talk? How dared he? 'If you want to know anything about Mr Morgan's dealings with the rest of your a.s.sociates I suggest you ask him yourself,' Cory said icily. 'OK?'

His eyes narrowed at her tone but then a wheedling note came into his voice. 'That'd be no good, facing him head on like that. It's the ladies who are his weakness. You could get more out of him with just being friendly than I could in a month of Sundays. He wouldn't suspect anything if that's what's worrying you. He's used to women throwing themselves at him all the time.'

'Really?' If she'd been anywhere else but her present surroundings, Cory would have socked him on the jaw. 'And I wonder why that is? Could it be that he is a real man rather than a snivelling little excuse for one? You picked the wrong woman to ask to do your dirty work, Mr Blackwell, and the minute I go back into that room Mr Morgan will be told of your proposition, all right?'

'That won't be necessary.'

The deep, cold voice behind them made them both jump a mile, and Cory found herself tottering on the exorbitantly high heels for a breathtaking moment. Like David, she'd spun round with more haste than care. Righting herself, she saw a different Nick from the one she'd known all evening. This one was frightening.

'Nick.' David's voice was sickeningly obsequious. 'This isn't what you think.'

'Save it.' The blue eyes could have been cut from granite. 'This isn't the time or the place. My office on Monday morning. Eight o'clock sharp.'

'But let me explain-'

'There's no time, you're leaving.' Nick raised his hand and as though by magic one of the staff was at his elbow. 'Would you be so good as to tell Miss Miller on table twelve that Mr Blackwell is waiting out here for her, please?'

As the man hurried away David tried again, and Cory felt like telling him it was no use.