Her Man with Iceberg Eyes (7 page)

Strolling back to the kitchen, Kate took time
to admire the extraordinary collection of artwork displayed on the
long gallery-style walls of the main hallways. Carefully directed
lamps threw pools of light onto majestic and outrageous paintings.
Some were Lottie’s...others were signed with famous names she’d
seen only in exhibitions.

She stopped just short of the doorway,
enchanted by three bizarre photographs. What was it about them?
They were recognizable flowers, but had they somehow been
manipulated to resemble insects? She leaned closer. Matthew’s
shadow intruded. Once again she’d not detected his silent
approach.

“Native orchids,” he murmured, standing close
behind her. “Tiny things—no bigger than this.” He touched a hand to
her sensitive earlobe and she flinched. A finger slid behind her
ear. He held her lobe between his finger and thumb and tugged
gently. Sensation shot to the pit of her belly. She willed the
shivers to die down, certain he knew the effect it was having.

“Stop touching me all the time,” she snapped,
pulling free.

With that tiny connection, he’d had total
control of her body. Below waist level her hormones rampaged, her
muscles twitched, she throbbed and moistened. His cologne wafted
around her, and she forced herself to breathe slowly. Her eyes met
his, reflected in the glass protecting one of the photos.

“Did you Photoshop them?” she asked, hoping
she hadn’t offended him to the point that she’d lost all hope of
getting the job. “They’re yours, I presume?”

He appeared unruffled by her sharpness. “One
of the bonuses of tramping so far from the bright lights. These
days I take a lot of photos for Lottie. She can’t really get into
the wild country any longer.”

“And she paints from them?”

“Never a direct copy. But she chooses a bit
from here, a piece from there... makes a whole new landscape.” He
fell silent and at last turned away. “She’s not as well as she
should be.”

Kate followed him the few strides to the
kitchen. His face had closed up, forbidding her to ask more. He
kept his back to her, removing the casserole of curry from the
refrigerator, sliding it into the oven, rattling about in the
cutlery drawer and going through to the dining room with a handful
of knives and forks.

“See what you can do by way of a salad,” he
called over his shoulder as he left the room.

She explored the huge pantry and the
refrigerator. There were myriad salad vegetables and every kind of
prepared dressing she could possibly need, but she perversely
decided to make fresh vinaigrette using one of the plump lemons
from the bowl on the marble counter. She sliced it in half,
enjoying the fierce sharp progress of the knife through the juicy
flesh, imagining she was slicing Matthew out of her life.

She worked quietly, absorbed in what she was
doing. And a few minutes later found his reflection in the window
glass in front of her. He’d changed into an open-necked shirt in
some dark shade. A heavy gold chain lay on the olive skin that the
unbuttoned collar revealed. She smiled, despite herself. She’d been
wrong about his taste.

“Hmm?” he questioned.

“Nothing really. I just didn’t have you down
as a jewellery man.”

She concentrated on peeling the slippery
avocado in front of her, and looked up in surprise as the gleaming
chain descended past her eyes and settled around her exposed
throat. Her hands were too messy to bat him away.

The chain burned hot from his body. It was
dazzling with the emerald silk of her blouse.

“Looks better on you,” Matthew murmured, too
close to her rapidly heating ear.

“It’s beautiful. But take it away
please.”

He ignored her. “Present from my ex. She
chose the chain and got it right. I chose the woman and got it
wrong.”

He thought bitterly about Martine as he
walked his fingers along the flat gold links, pressing them against
Kate’s skin. Martine—the bitch of all time—who’d seen the way to
obtain a huge divorce settlement by very creative blackmail. He
wouldn’t be leaving himself open to anything like that again. Kate
Pleasance was gorgeous. She’d kick-started his body into raging
life again, but he was far from ready to trust without knowing a
great deal more about her. If she was spying for Rob, she’d be out
the door so fast she wouldn’t know what had hit her.

His fingers progressed leisurely down past
Kate’s collarbone—a slow intrusion that never touched her skin.
Searing shivers of anticipation and dread rocketed through her
body. If he slid his strong fingers off the chain to caress her
breathless waiting flesh, what then? She had no idea.

“Stop it!” she gasped, just as the door
knocker thumped loudly. She’d never in her life been so glad of an
interruption. Matthew laughed softly and turned away to welcome his
visitors.

The instant he was out of sight, Kate bent
and laid her heated face against the cold marble counter, rolling
from one flushed cheek to the other until she heard footsteps
nearing.

Diana breezed into the kitchen with dessert.
“Banoffie Pie—have you tried it, Kate? Bananas and caramel.
Hamish’s favourite.”

Kate smiled shakily, still greatly affected
by the piercing waves of lust and dismay washing through her.

Matthew and Hamish followed Diana, both tall,
both dark, so obviously brothers. Hamish was just a little shorter,
a little paunchier, noticeably several years older.

She shook his hand. No electric spark.

If it had been Matthew, she knew the jolt
through her body would have been extreme. Lord, she didn’t need his
whole warm hand to unsettle her. Just a finger jiggling her earlobe
seemed to be enough to make her lose control.

Despite Matthew’s earlier assertion that they
rarely used the formal sitting room, he led them through to there.
Drinks had been set out on a low table. A bowl of salty cashew nuts
and another of excellent olive oil sat beside the glasses. Diana
carried in a platter of cubed-up crusty Italian bread for dipping,
and Kate chose the seat on the sofa beside her, hoping to avoid
Matthew. Hamish took the big armchair at the end of the table.

She sat quietly, enjoying listening, but
adding very little to the conversation. The brothers talked
contingency plans for the spring frosts...wind machines,
helicopters...the price of French oak barrels. Diana discussed
arrangements for Saturday’s party.

Kate watched Matthew covertly from her seat
opposite. No-one else in the room really existed for her. With the
other big couch all to himself, he sat relaxed, legs thrown open,
one arm ranged along the sofa-back. He raised a foot and hitched
his ankle up onto the opposite knee. The trouser fabric stretched
tighter, over his long thighs and the enticing bulge displayed so
blatantly between. The triangle of his open legs drew Kate’s eyes
like a magnet. Warmth buzzed and tingled in her groin. She drew a
sharp surprised breath.

What would he be like to make love with?
Assertive and demanding, much as he’d been with her today?
Expecting her to fall in with his wishes all the time?

Or tender and restrained, as she’d seen him
with Lottie?

A sensualist for sure. His gentlest touch had
lit Kate’s skin with a trail of incandescence. And he’d be
physically impressive. A tall, fit man—used to tramping the
surrounding mountains. The clues she’d gathered through his
clothing screamed lean, strong, hard-muscled, olive-skinned. Her
eyes roved once again to the apex of his thighs. She dragged them
away just as he caught her looking.

Hot blood rushed up her neck, flooding her
face in a mortified blush. He had to know she’d been inspecting him
right there. Thank heavens he couldn’t be sure what she’d been
thinking. Or did he have a fair idea?

Sending her a speculative smile, he drew his
knees together and made a great show of spreading one of the paper
napkins over his lap so he could dip the bread cubes with no risk
of dripping oil onto his trousers. He’d hidden her treat.

Kate bowed her head, refusing to look at him
for long moments. “So you run the vineyard together?” she finally
croaked, desperately trying to cover the moment.

His smile grew broader. “No. Hamish is the
viticulturist. I just tag along and obey orders.”

“Rather more than
that
,” Diana said.
“He’s a computer man, Kate. Saw the possibilities of the Internet
early on. Set up a provider service and then made his fortune by
selling it to one of the big boys.”

“And negotiated a seat on their board to keep
life interesting,” Matthew added, reaching out to snare a cube of
bread.

“So you’re not home all that much?”

“Depends on the attractions here.”

Kate compressed her lips. That hadn’t exactly
been a helpful reply, and she suspected he knew it.

“And I’ve set up a publishing company for
some of my photographic projects,” he continued. “Based in New
Zealand, but I sell globally. I travel on Lottie’s behalf, and for
my own work.”

That still didn’t give Kate a lot to go on.
She wondered what sort of clever questions she’d have to ask to
break through his slick defences. It was a game he excelled at.

“Shall we eat?” Diana suggested a few minutes
later.

Grateful for the distraction, Kate rose. And
found Matthew instantly at her side, hand on her upper arm, guiding
her into the dining room. Ready to flinch away at his touch, she
noticed Hamish escorting Diana in the same fashion. So the brothers
were protective men with impeccable manners? She softened a little
and walked with him to the impressive dining table. He’d set four
places at one end, and soft lamplight glowed on the folds of long
linen curtains and polished timber.

“Girls’ night off,” he said, pulling out a
chair for her. “Hamish and I’ll bring the rest of the food.”

“You’re having it easy,” Diana teased. “I
happen to know Lottie made the curry, and I suspect this lovely
salad is Kate’s creation.” She cast an approving eye over the big
bowl of crisp vegetables.

“Yeah, yeah, and you made the pie,” he
agreed. “Okay, I managed the rice. Happy now?” He departed with a
grin.

The men returned carrying a bowl each, and
set them onto heat-absorbing cork mats. Hamish pulled out his chair
and sat.

Kate smiled to herself as she watched Matthew
take their padded oven gloves out to the kitchen. She hadn’t
expected that glimpse of domesticity. He brought back dishes of
yoghurt, toasted coconut and other condiments. “Dig in,” he said,
handing Kate a big serving spoon.

“Guest of honour should go first,” she
countered, trying to hand it to Hamish.

“You’re the visitor,” Hamish returned
cheerfully, already helping himself to rice. “Some for you, hon?”
he asked Diana. She handed her plate across and he piled it up.

Kate spooned out some curry, wondering how
fiery it would be, and sniffing cautiously.

“It’ll be fairly hot,” Diana said,
interpreting her hesitation correctly. “Lottie’s mother is
Indonesian Dutch, so the spices are authentic. You can cool it down
with the yoghurt.”

“Or a cold beer?” Matthew suggested.

Kate shook her head. “Not after the wine,
thanks.”

“Anyone else?” he asked, glancing around the
table. Heads were shaken. “More wine all round then,” he said,
striding out to the kitchen and returning with four fresh glasses
and a different bottle.

Kate glimpsed the distinctive McLeod Brothers
label again. “Do you always drink your own wine?” she asked.

“Someone has to,” Hamish said with a wry
smirk.

Diana smiled. “He keeps a keen eye on the
competition—by sampling their fine products of course.”

“But we trot out the good stuff when it’s
family,” he confirmed, taking a closer look at the label as Matthew
positioned the glasses. “I thought you’d finished this
vintage?”

“I kept a few bottles aside for special
occasions.”

“And it
is
an important birthday,”
Diana inserted.

Matthew poured, and handed the wine around.
“Absent friends,” he said, lifting his glass in a toast. “Shame
Lottie’s not here. All the family together.”

Everyone sipped and set their glasses
down.

“Do you have brothers or sisters, Kate?”
Diana asked.

Kate shook her head. “Only child. I would
have liked a sister at least, but my mother...had problems in that
department. I have a younger female cousin I’m fond of. Alfie.”

“Alfie? For a girl?”

“Poor thing—she’s named after her
grandfather. He’s Alfred. She’s Alfrieda. I don’t see her often
because she lives way out on a farm.”

Diana sent her a soft smile. “Two boys for
us.”

“I bet they’re good company for each
other.”

“Most of the time,” Hamish agreed. “Until one
of them pinches something belonging to the other. Then all hell
tends to break loose.”

Matthew laughed. “Sounds like you and me when
we were younger.” He turned to Kate. “You’ll meet them on Saturday,
if not before.”

“If I’m still here.”

“You’ll be here,” he confirmed with arrogant
off-handedness. “I’ve already re-booked your ticket. Sunday evening
to Auckland. Okay?”

Kate held his gaze without flinching. “So
you’re sending me home. No job?”

He shrugged. “We’ll see. Everything’s been
turned on its head now Lottie’s injured. You’d have to go home
eventually to collect the rest of your clothes anyway.”

So just like that, she’d be dismissed? It
stung.

“Oh yes, clothes,” Diana exclaimed. “How did
the shopping go?”

Kate forked up some more curry and swallowed
it before answering, wondering if Matthew would comment first. “It
was fine,” she eventually replied. “I don’t think I needed
everything we bought, but I was ganged up on. So I have jeans,
leggings, a couple of jerseys, a leather jacket I certainly
wouldn’t have chosen...”