Australian Bachelors: Masterful Magnates: Purchased: His Perfect Wife. HELEN BIANCHIN
night, only to be regretted in the light of day?
‘No.’ Any rehashing would only keep the scene alive in her mind, and possibly plunge her back into it within minutes of Wolfe dousing the bedside lamp. ‘I’m fine.’
Sure, she was. But she desperately needed the solace of a darkened room, not to mention a physical distance between her and the dangerous man whose power to affect her was positively lethal.
For several long seconds his eyes seared hers, seconds when she felt the pulse thud at the base of her throat, and she unconsciously lifted her hand to hide it from view.
She felt raw, and incredibly vulnerable. Wanting, needing comfort, but hesitant to seek it in case the action might be misconstrued.
A faint smile curved his lips as he leant forward and brushed his mouth to her forehead. ‘Try to sleep, hmm?’ Without a further word he released her, then he stood to his feet and slid between the covers of his own bed. Seconds later the room plunged into darkness as he switched off the lamp.
Lara inched low, closed her eyes and endeavoured to covet sleep, forcing herself to lie still and regiment her breathing.
It didn’t work, nothing worked, and she felt inordinately restless, unable to settle in any one position.
She was unaware of exchanging the darkness of night for dark dreams that appeared in seamless, kaleidoscopic confusion … her father’s violent temper and Suzanne’s fear; vicious slaps from her father’s hand because she wasn’t quick enough to obey him; her childish sobbing as she huddled into a foetal ball in a darkened room behind a locked door.
Then strong arms cradled her close, and she instinctively clung to a warm body, holding on tight as a sense of peace seeped into her soul, providing a dreamless somnolence.
Next morning Lara woke to the muted sound of the shower in the en suite, and it was almost eight when she checked her watch.
That was when she noticed the bedcovers were turned back on the opposite side of her bed, the imprint of a head on the pillow beside her own.
Someone had occupied her bed.
Wolfe? Of course, Wolfe!
Had they …? No, of course not. She’d have remembered … and have known!
Which meant … Oh, dear heaven. Snatches of remembered dreams surfaced, and her features paled as she pinned being held through what remained of the night as reality, not part of a dream.
The sound of the en-suite door opening held her transfixed as Wolfe emerged into the room, a white towel hitched at his hips, his dark hair wet.
A curling sensation spiralled up inside as she took in his powerful shoulders, the broad muscular chest with its light sprinkling of dark hair arrowing down past his navel. The narrow waist, lean hips and the length of his legs.
His presence dominated the room, and she lifted her head a little and met his dark gaze.
‘Good morning.’ His drawled greeting curled round her nerve-ends and tugged a little.
Wolfe caught the soft tinge of pink colouring her cheeks, divined the cause, and watched the fleeting emotions chase across her expressive features.
‘You slept in my bed.’ A statement which verged close to an accusation, and she saw one eyebrow slant in silent query.
‘It bothered you?’
Her eyes darkened. ‘Yes, damn it.’
‘“Slept” being the operative word,’ he reminded her as he closed the distance between them.
He stood close … too close … for she could sense the soap and shampoo he’d used, the expanse of toned muscle and sinew, and the damning knowledge she’d spent a few hours curled against his naked frame.
‘You’d have preferred me to employ a more intimate distraction?’
‘No. No,’ she reiterated, and caught the amusement apparent in those dark eyes, the slight curve of his mouth as he moved in close.
‘So this will have to suffice.’
He lowered his head and ‘this’ became a wickedly evocative kiss that took hold of her resistance and tossed it high.
It lasted long and lingered, and it was she who groaned with frustration as he lifted his head and left her aching and needy.
‘Any time you change your mind …’ His soft taunt brought her down to earth with a thud, and her eyes sparked dark-blue fire.
‘In your dreams!’
A husky chuckle almost undid her, and he pressed a finger against her lips.
Lara barely resisted the temptation to close her teeth and bite his finger hard. Except there was a silent warning apparent that such an action would invite retribution.
‘Go get dressed. Breakfast will be delivered any time soon.’
The day lay ahead, with barely enough hours in which to achieve everything Wolfe had on his agenda.
First up was the need to confer with the interior decorator at the Point Piper mansion as they fine-tuned colour schemes, light fittings and a complete refit of the kitchen to Lara’s specifications. Copious notes were made and double-checked, while the interior decorator’s warmth increased to an almost obsequious level.
From there Wolfe drove to Watson’s Bay where they had lunch at a charming restaurant overlooking the sea, after which they headed back to the city.
Shopping was next on the agenda, and despite Lara’s protest several packages and glossy carrier bags were added to a steadily increasing collection.
‘No,’ Wolfe declared as she prepared to change prior to leaving for Lara’s. ‘Tonight you’re set to experience dining in the restaurant, not working the kitchen.’
Lara paused in gathering her working clothes together and sent him a steady look. ‘Says who?’
‘I do,’ he drawled. ‘With Tony, Shontelle and Sally’s approval.’
‘But not mine,’ she managed reasonably, and drew forward her trainers.
‘You get to check the kitchen, then join me at six-thirty.’
She kept her voice even. ‘Our busiest time.’
‘You’re not indispensable. The staff will cope admirably.’
They would, but that wasn’t the point. ‘Doesn’t it matter I might want to work tonight?’
His eyes hardened measurably. ‘Accept it’s not going to happen.’
‘And you intend to prevent it … how?’ ‘In an undignified manner, if you choose to resist.’ A few conflicting scenarios presented themselves … none of which she could possibly countenance. ‘You’re unbelievable!’ ‘So, bite me.’
‘Maybe I will,’ Lara threatened. ‘When you least expect it.’
As an exit line, it gave some satisfaction … although it diminished somewhat in the wake of his soft laughter.
Half an hour later Lara stepped into the Lexus wearing an elegant trouser-suit, stiletto heels, make-up and with her hair caught in a smooth French roll held fast with a large clip.
In her hand she carried a bag holding trainers.
It was her kitchen, she assured herself silently. Her employees, her decision. Damn it, her final night as chef.
Tomorrow her life would change … but tonight was hers, and she resolved to play it her way.
‘Hi, I didn’t think you were supposed to be on kitchen duty tonight.’
Lara collected her apron, wound and fixed the ties at her waist, and offered Sally a sweet smile. ‘You thought