Her Man with Iceberg Eyes (21 page)

Kate’s heart lurched at his betrayal. Matthew
stood tall and furious in an impeccable tuxedo. Impossibly gorgeous
and hopelessly out of reach. The snowy evening shirt and black
velvet bow tie were the ideal foil for his hard face and big lean
body. He looked, quite simply, amazing. He held out his arm,
taunting her with the illusion of affection. “Lottie wants a
photograph,” he said, with barely controlled sarcasm.

Kate drifted across and positioned herself
next to him, avoiding his iceberg eyes. What emotions seethed deep
under the surface? Nothing that he cared to show or share with
her.

Iceberg eyes. How utterly appropriate.
Glittering like ice in sunshine when he was amused or playful, but
with turbulent emotions hidden fathoms deep in the freezing sea
below.

Lottie used the iPad and took several shots,
holding it out to show them how they looked. Matthew turned on his
heel and ignored his sister. Kate shook her head and sent her a sad
smile.

The air was biting cold...snow still on much
of the ground...icy fur on every level surface. Lottie produced a
dramatic black cape for Kate to wrap herself in. Matthew donned a
cashmere overcoat. Lottie chuckled and admitted to a thermal vest
under her thin blouse. She added only a handcrafted wool shawl for
the trip to the vineyard.

Hamish had reserved a parking space close to
the front door because of Lottie’s ankle, so the extra layers were
dispensed with as soon as they’d wheeled her inside.

Kate decided she was on wheelchair duty. It
would keep her out of Matthew’s way.

She gazed around the rustically styled house
with appreciation. Pools of light from black iron sconces flooded
the mellow ivory walls. Polished native timber floors gleamed under
jewel-toned patterned rugs. Chunky exposed beams supported an open
gallery around the second storey. It was relaxed and different.

Diana greeted them with glasses of spicy
mulled wine. “Hamish says it’s a great way to ruin a nice red, but
I think it’s festive,” she said, laughing and apparently noticing
nothing amiss.

The hot wine raced right down to Kate’s toes.
Blissful warmth invaded her body, giving her much needed extra
confidence.

Matthew introduced her to one of his friends
as ‘our spy from the north’.

“Checking out our wine industry, are you?”
the sandy-haired friend asked.

“Checking out jobs,” Kate said evasively.
“But the working conditions in Auckland are more
straightforward.”

“But do they have the same ‘compensations’?”
Matthew asked with exquisite emphasis.

“The ‘compensations’ can sometimes be
attractive. But that changes very fast, I’ve found.” Her eyes held
his in cool defiance.

“May I get you another drink?” the friend
asked. Kate moved away with him to escape.

She returned to Lottie as soon as possible.
Hamish squatted on his haunches beside her, enquiring about the
ankle.

Kate touched a tentative hand to his
shoulder. “Happy Birthday, Hamish. Lovely party.”

He looked up at her, raising his eyebrows
appreciatively at her tall body in the spectacular dress. “My
brother is a fool,” he said. “You weren’t seriously searching his
office, were you?”

Kate tried not to take offence. “I was
searching, but not seriously,” she muttered. “For something that
was much more mine than his.”

He sent her a very speculative look.

“Truly,” she added.

“If you say so, Kate.” He rose to his feet
and moved away, unwilling to take sides.

“Where shall I wheel you?” she asked Lottie
with false brightness. She’d have to survive somehow—the house was
too far away to flee back there.

“Now
here’s
someone,” Lottie said,
beckoning to a serious boy carrying a plate of tiny pastries.
“Kate, this is Alistair, one of Diana and Hamish’s sons.”

He nodded and held out the food so they could
make their choices.

“Alistair and Ben are twins,” Lottie
continued. They look the same as Matthew and me.”

“Like nothing at all the same,” the boy said
gruffly.

He was as blond as Diana. Kate presumed his
brother must be dark. “Do you mind being twins?” she asked.

“I’m pleased we’re not identical,” he
mumbled, trying not to stare at Kate’s cleavage.

She smiled and took another morsel before he
moved away.

“Fourteen,” said Lottie, as though that
explained everything. “Good boys. Nice boys. Home from boarding
school for this weekend.”

Across the room, Matthew’s tall presence had
become the centre of attention for three women. Kate clenched her
jaw.

One had taken hold of his hand and laughed,
head thrown back. The second flipped her rippling blonde hair
around rather obviously. The third reached for his free arm to
steady herself so she could fiddle with her shoe. She returned her
foot to the ground but retained the arm. He glanced down at her,
but did nothing to shake himself free.

Kate tried to ignore them, but his face, his
body, his scent had all sunk deep into her psyche now. Her eyes
wandered to him every few minutes. She could have throttled the
whole group. Her relief was palpable when he moved away from the
trio.

Not that she lacked for company herself. The
‘spy from the north’ man stuck close for a while. The other
twin—darker and much more self-assured—arrived with nibbles and a
good line of chat. Several of Lottie’s art admirers clustered
around, including Kate in their conversation.

Soon after eight, the dinner gong rang out
and Hamish called for silence. After cheerful abuse, the animated
conversation faded away.

“My dear friends,” he began pompously.
Someone popped a couple of balloons and general laughter broke out.
“Look—dinner is ready. Do go through and help yourselves, and find
a seat wherever you can. We’ve spread them around all over the
place.”

Diana threaded her way through the guests and
took his arm. He smiled down at her and said something meant for
her alone. Then he raised his voice again. “Thank you Di and the
rest of my family for going to all this trouble for me. And thank
you
all for the horribly offensive cards and good wishes.
It’s almost worth turning forty to have you here tonight. Now eat
up all the lovely food you’ve brought us.”

Kate drew a regretful breath. They were such
nice people. Relaxed and cheerful and interesting. They’d made her
feel so welcome. And she would never see them again.

Guests gave way to the wheelchair. Kate
pushed it around the laden table and Lottie chose her food. Matthew
appeared beside her and took over the handles. “Get some for
yourself.” His tone was ungracious.

“I’m not all that hungry, thanks.”

“That makes two of us, then.”

Lottie glanced up, but when she started to
remonstrate with him, he turned the chair aside, excluding Kate
from any further conversation.

She served out as much as she felt like
eating and went to top up her glass. Not far away, another man was
looking to do the same. He moved closer. “Now why would a pretty
girl like you be finding her own drink?” He had a soft Irish
accent, with twinkling Irish eyes to match. Such an obvious come-on
that Kate couldn’t resist. She looked at him from under her lashes,
and batted them. “Because the chap who drove me here has other
things on his mind right now.”

His mouth quirked. “I’m Patrick Donovan.”

“Kate Pleasance.”

He reached for her hand and held it a little
longer than necessary. “And you’re not from round these parts, that
I can tell. You’re a girl from the city for sure.”

Kate laughed at his blarney and retrieved her
hand to pour the wine.

“Good guess,” she said. “Auckland. Some for
you?”

He held his hand over hers to steady his
glass. Definitely one of the touchy-feely brigade. She glimpsed
Matthew watching from across the room. She avoided his eyes and
smiled at Patrick. “How do you know Di and Hamish?”

“There’s a bit of a story to that,” he said,
bending close. Closer than he needed to be. Kate retreated a
fraction. “Some years ago now—” and he embarked on a long rambling
description of a trip through vineyards in the south of France.

Kate nodded along, sipping her wine and
forking up her food. Although she stood next to Patrick, it was
Matthew who kept drawing her attention. Every now and again, he
glowered across in her direction. With nothing to lose, she
transferred her weight from one foot to the other so the long split
skirt revealed an equally long leg. And turned her sinuous sweep of
back on him.

It took perhaps thirty seconds before he
strode across and poured himself another drink.

“Better go easy if you’re driving,” she said
sweetly.

He gave her a withering look, opened his
mouth to speak, thought better of it, snapped it closed, and
departed.

“A friend of yours?” Patrick asked.

“A lover from the past,” she dismissed.

He leaned a little nearer.

She shrank a shade away. “I must attend to
Lottie, if you’ll excuse me?”

She took her glass across to the wheelchair
and bent to speak, well aware Matthew had a generous view of her
breasts from that angle. “Can I get you anything else? Or will you
wait for dessert? More wine maybe?”

“Dessert I think, Katie. Another little drink
until then.” Kate stepped away with the empty glass and a
strangling grip on her wrist pulled her up short.

“I’ll do it.”

“I’m happy to, Matthew.”

“I said
I’ll
do it. Stay here.”

As if! She glanced at Lottie to find delight
in her eyes and a half-hidden smile on her lips. Kate raised her
eyebrows.

Lottie relaxed into a cheeky grin as soon as
Matthew turned away. “Serve him right,” she said. “I think he bites
off his nose.”

Kate snorted at the half-phrase, and grinned
back.

“Why do men do this?” Lottie demanded. They
both cast their eyes down and hid their smiles at Matthew’s rapid
return.

So—he didn’t want her himself, but neither
did he want anyone else taking over. Victory of a kind, she
supposed.

There was a renewed surge toward the table
once the selection of decadent desserts appeared. Tea and coffee
followed, and then the men cleared the floor for dancing. They
rolled the rugs up and pushed the furniture to the extreme edges of
the big room. Hamish cranked up a party compilation on the stereo.
Alistair circled seriously, shaking talcum powder. Ben slid and
whooped across the floor to spread it around.

The music soon had toes tapping and heads
nodding. Diana and Hamish were first on the floor, encouraging
everyone to join them.

“Now this I cannot do,” Lottie said with
regret.

“Just once around,” Matthew insisted,
scooping her up, protesting, in his strong arms. He managed a good
imitation of a man dancing with a partner for a couple of minutes
and returned her to the chair.

“That was kind,” Kate said. He nodded
curtly.

The Irishman headed her way again. She didn’t
fancy his touchy-feely act on the dance floor.

Neither did Matthew, apparently. “Our turn,
Miss Pleasance,” he said, giving her no option as he swung her out
onto the floor seconds before Aerosmith gave way to the Blue Danube
waltz.

“Something for everyone,” Hamish confirmed as
he and Diana circled by.

Matthew drew Kate closer, cursing softly,
refusing to look at her. He curved a hand around her waist; the
other enclosed her fingers. She rested her left hand tentatively on
his shoulder.

She would have been so much happier bopping
around to the rock music. Untouched. Further apart. Impersonal. It
was agonising being held like this. His cologne drifted across the
small gap between them, pumped into the air by the throbbing pulse
she saw in his strong neck.

She’d licked him there last night. Kissed him
and smoothed her fingers very close to there, and then slid down
and spread her hands wide to knead his firm flesh.

He’d laughed and tensed his pecs for her, and
his chest had become hard and perfect. Now he held her just close
enough to look polite, but much too far away to be the least bit
friendly. He was as icy as the weather.

Kate wanted no part of this stiff chilly
charade of a dance. “That’s enough,” she hissed, trying to pull
away. But he clamped her rigidly into position as she attempted to
escape. They circled on around the floor, together but apart.

“Let me
go
, Matthew. This is no sort
of a dance. You may as well be holding a broomstick.” She tried to
escape his grasp again. Still he confined her with his iron
hands.

He looked down at her with the oddest
expression. “Broomstick?” he queried, suddenly pulling her hard in
against him. She was shocked to find him stiff with desire. Long
with lust. Hidden under his beautifully cut tuxedo, a whole
different story lurked. The civilized man the others saw was
wildly, potently, ready to mate. And one big hand now clutched the
small of her back so they rubbed and chafed together as they danced
amid the throng of unsuspecting party guests.

“I don’t like what you were trying to do, but
it seems I still want you,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I wasn’t trying to do anything, and I don’t
like you either,” she ground back.

“But do you want me? That’s a whole different
question, isn’t it Katie.” He stared at her intently, so snug
against her she easily imagined every detail of him.

The music finished.

“No,” she lied, wrenching herself away from
him, escaping just barely alive.

She somehow lasted through the rest of the
party. Matthew occupied himself elsewhere, which both relieved and
destroyed her.

Lottie was happy to depart quite early; they
drove back to the house in near-silence.