BTW: I Love You (Mills & Boon M&B) (One Hot Fling - Book 1) (14 page)

‘W
AKE
up, sleepy-head.’

The smell of pine forests and spicy aftershave beckoned Maddy from a deep, dreamless sleep. She stretched, and sighed as Rye’s handsome face came into focus.

Then frowned. ‘You’re dressed?’ she murmured, her voice rough with sleep as she took in the pristine white shirt, the maroon silk tie draped round his neck and the sheen of water in his slicked back hair.

His lips curved into a sexy smile and her heart galloped into her throat. ‘It’s almost midday.’ He straightened and flipped up his collar, looped his tie underneath. ‘I have a meeting in about …’ he glanced at the pricey watch on his wrist. The sterling silver timepiece was one she didn’t recognise. ‘Damn. Ten minutes.’

She pushed up on her elbows, tucked the sheet under her armpits. ‘I’m sorry; you should have woken me.’

‘Now she tells me,’ he said, giving a soft laugh as he knotted his tie. ‘I was being noble.’ He looked at her, his smile full of sensual promise. ‘I exhausted you last night.’

She coloured slightly, remembering the two times he’d woken her during the night.

He finished with the tie and flipped down his collar. Cradling her cheek, he pressed his lips to hers in a brief possessive kiss. ‘And, let me tell you, I deserve a medal for being so restrained.’

She grinned at his playfulness. ‘I’ll have to reward you later.’

‘I’m counting on it.’ He stood and grabbed his suit jacket off the bed. ‘Listen, there’s fresh coffee in the kitchen and some pastries.’ He shrugged on the jacket, which draped perfectly over his broad shoulders, then sank a hand into the pocket of his trousers. ‘Ring the concierge if there’s anything else you want. I haven’t got much in the place because I usually skip breakfast.’

She settled back to watch him grab his wallet and keys from the dresser, puzzled by the admission. He’d always devoured a full plate for breakfast, his appetite ravenous in the morning whenever he’d stayed at the cottage.

‘I could go shopping and make us dinner?’ she said, eager to keep busy during the time without him.

He hesitated for a moment before pulling some notes out of his wallet. ‘Don’t bother. I thought we could eat out tonight.’

She watched him flip out several notes, trying not to be hurt by the casual rejection of her offer.

‘But get whatever else you need,’ he said, dropping the money on the dresser.

She bolted upright. ‘I have my own money, Rye.’

‘I know.’ He leant over her to give her a quick peck on the forehead. ‘But this area is expensive.’

She could well imagine. ‘Even so, I don’t need your money.’

‘Then don’t spend it,’ he said, leaving the notes on the dresser. ‘I’ll send a car this evening. I’m afraid I’ve got a pretty busy day scheduled so I’ll have to meet you at the restaurant. But there’s someone I want to introduce you to before we eat.’

‘Who?’

He simply grinned. ‘I’ll explain later. I’ve got to run.’

And, with one more quick kiss, he was gone.

She huffed out a slow breath, and felt the aching sensation of confusion and uncertainty as she flopped back onto the pillows.

They’d made love three times since she had arrived. The first time fast and frantic, the second full of heat and passion and the third slow and tender. She could still feel the firmness, the tenderness between her thighs where he had lodged deep inside her. But, as familiar as his body was, and the exhilarating pleasure it could give her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the moody, magnetic man she had fallen hopelessly in love with during those idyllic weeks in Cornwall was only one small facet of Ryan King.

Their relationship didn’t feel equal any more. And not just because of his money or his lavish lifestyle. She had no idea how he felt about her.

A vicious shiver racked her body, despite the climate controlled temperature in the luxurious bedroom.

‘Get a grip, woman,’ she murmured.

She was getting ahead of herself as usual. She needed to make the most of her time with Rye in London. Get him to open up about how he felt. And she wasn’t going to be able to do that if she had a panic attack at the first sign of the unfamiliar. Her time in London was going to be an adventure. And, like all the best adventures, it was as scary as it was exciting.

Swinging her legs to the floor, she stood up and wrapped the sheet around her. She’d have a shower, get her stuff unpacked and then explore the apartment and the neighbourhood beyond, as Rye had suggested.

She studied the bedroom. She’d been too preoccupied last night to take in the splendour of Rye’s home properly. With
its high ceilings and understated but impossibly chic interior design, the master bedroom had the same take-your-breath-away effect as the living room.

She headed for the en suite bathroom, eager to explore, and spotted the notes he’d left on the dresser. Her brow creased as she tugged the sheet tighter around her breasts.

Rye might not think of her as his mistress, but the blithe way he’d dismissed her objections to the money suggested he was used to being blasé about his wealth, and probably unnecessarily generous with the women he dated.

After the argument they’d had last night about his highhanded attitude, she’d been annoyed by the offer of money. But his attitude was probably as much her fault as his.

Right from the start, he’d made all the decisions in their relationship and she’d let him. Partly because it was in her nature to be non-confrontational. But also because she’d found the forcefulness of Rye’s character—his independence, his authority, his desire to take control—extremely attractive, because it was so unlike the other men she’d dated. But she could see now that the same qualities which had made Rye so appealing to begin with could also become an obstacle to their future happiness—if she didn’t start standing up to him.

Calling him to task yesterday for his domineering behaviour had been a very good start. But she needed to follow through—opening the top drawer on the dresser, she swept the notes inside and slammed it shut—which meant she wasn’t going to let him treat her like his kept woman.

Gripping the sheet in her fists, she headed for the bathroom.

She’d accepted his hospitality but she didn’t intend to sit idly in his apartment all day while he went off to work either. The Christmas season was approaching and there were lots of posh shops and cafés round the corner in Kensington High Street that might be looking for casual staff. Why not go exploring
and check out her employment prospects while she was at it?

She doubted he’d be too pleased with the idea. But she was not going to be intimidated by Rye’s money, or his lavish lifestyle, or the force of his will either—however indomitable. Because she’d recently discovered she had a will of her own. Plus she had something to fight for now that would be worth winning.

Not only Rye’s love, but also his respect.

Not being intimidated by Rye and his lifestyle turned out to be a lot easier said than done, Maddy realised, as the maître d’ led her through the bijou Notting Hill restaurant he’d booked for dinner. She brushed her palms down the chic midnight-blue cashmere dress she’d splurged on in the hope of finding a job quickly and tried not to worry too much about her fruitless search for employment so far.

It didn’t matter; she would try again tomorrow. And the dress had been worth it. She’d rather live on yoghurt for a month than have to walk through a place like this in her old black wraparound or, worse, a T-shirt and jeans.

Glasses and cutlery clinked, conversation dimmed to discreet murmurs, the air redolent with the seductive scent of freshly cut holly, expensive perfume and delicate spices. The cellar restaurant had an exclusive air reinforced by the plush velvet-curtained booths and the number of beautiful people they seemed to number among their clientele. Maddy struggled not to gawp as she was escorted past a table where a supermodel was sharing a candlelit dinner for two with a young rock star who had recently topped the charts.

Yup, the dress had definitely been worth every penny.

‘Mr King and Ms Chelmsford are waiting for you in the private annexe,’ the Maître d’ announced as he whisked open a glass door at the end of the restaurant.

Ms Who?

Maddy blinked as she stepped into what looked like a tropical rainforest, the lush plants in stark contrast to the winter flora that had decorated the rest of the place. She spotted Rye, sitting at the only table, deep in conversation with an impossibly chic middle-aged woman in a tailored trouser suit. He tilted his head back and laughed at something the woman said, the strong column of his throat drawing Maddy’s eye. But then his companion bent forward and touched his wrist. Maddy’s stomach dipped at the intimacy of the gesture.

The maître d’ announced her presence and the woman’s fingers drew back as Rye braced his hands on the table to stand up.

‘At last, you’re here.’ His blue eyes lit with appreciation as he crossed towards her and the little dart of jealousy vanished. Grasping her around the waist, he gave her a long, lingering kiss that had heat rising up her neck.

‘This is Ruth Chelmsford,’ he said, keeping his arm round her waist as he introduced her. ‘She’s an old friend of mine.’

The woman rose and offered her hand. ‘It’s lovely to meet you.’ Her handshake was firm and friendly and her smile unguarded, making Maddy feel foolish for her suspicions. ‘Rye has been talking my ear off about you for twenty minutes.’

‘He has?’

The woman laughed easily at Maddy’s gauche comment as Rye pulled out a chair for her.

‘You look incredible,’ he whispered, his breath brushing her nape. ‘Relax.’

She settled in the chair and tried to do just that.

‘Yes, he has,’ Ruth said indulgently. ‘Rye thinks you may have something I want,’ she continued.

‘Here’s one of them,’ Rye remarked. Then, before Maddy could stop him, he plucked off the silk scarf she had tied
round her waist to accent her dress and handed it to Ruth. ‘What do you think?’

Ruth held the scarf up by its corners as if it were spun gold. ‘It’s exquisite.’ Her eyes locked on Maddy’s as she lowered the scarf to her lap. ‘You created this yourself?’

‘Yes, I … It’s sort of a hobby,’ she replied, a little embarrassed by the praise.

‘How many of them do you have?’

‘I’m not sure.’ She glanced at Rye, confused. But all he did was wink at her, confusing her even more. ‘Why do you want to know?’

The woman laughed. ‘Because I’m the chief buyer for DeMontfort’s of Piccadilly. We’ve been looking for a new silk designer for our spring collection. And I think I may have found her.’

‘You mean …?’ It was Maddy’s turn to gasp. Had this woman called her a designer? ‘DeMontfort’s? Seriously?’

The exclusive London department store had been a fixture in the West End for over a century. But in the last thirty years it had become a world leader in the fashion world as well, famous for showcasing bold new British design talent. She’d window-shopped there herself the few times she’d visited London, adoring the store’s grace and beauty and the innovation of its displays. But she’d never been able to afford any of the merchandise.

‘Unfortunately, time is of the essence,’ Ruth said, apparently oblivious to Maddy’s shocked expression. ‘We’re launching the spring range with a charity gala at The Savoy on the fifteenth, so I’ll need to see whatever you have, select the pieces we can use.’

‘How many did you bring with you?’ Rye said softly beside her, his hand covering hers and jolting her out of her stupor.

‘About …’ she paused, tried to think with her head spinning and her heart jumping ‘… about ten, maybe.’

‘Ten is a good start. But we’ll need more. Luckily, we have a workshop in Soho with space you can use. We can supply …’

The woman’s voice faded into the distance as the drumming of Maddy’s heartbeat began to deafen her. She answered the barrage of questions on autopilot, trying to breathe through the knowledge that something she’d never even dreamed of, something she would have been too scared to dream of, was actually happening.

She could make a living out of her silk work? She loved it. Had always loved it. But it had never even occurred to her that it would be good enough to sell. And not just sell. From the snippets of Ruth’s conversation she could actually process, it seemed the woman thought she could sell it at a very decent price indeed.

‘Ruth, give her a minute, she’s not committing to any of that yet.’ Rye’s sure, certain voice cut through the fog of awe and excitement. ‘We’ll get the other silk sent over tomorrow morning. When you’ve drawn up a contract—and I’ve had my solicitor look at it—and once Maddy’s had a chance to digest all this.’ Rye’s hand squeezed hers on the table. ‘Then you can talk to her again and iron out the details.’

Ruth gave an astonished laugh. ‘Why, Rye, you sound protective.’ She stood up. ‘Clearly Maddy here is even more special than I imagined.’

Rye’s hand tensed and lifted off hers as Ruth excused herself and left the annexe.

‘I can’t believe it. DeMontfort’s? It’s like a dream,’ Maddy said, excitement bubbling.

Rye gave a gruff chuckle, the moment of tension gone. ‘You deserve it. You’ve got a rare talent.’ Sitting back, he lifted the menu. ‘Now, how about we order dinner and a bottle of Dom, then grab a cab back to mine and make wild passionate love for the rest of the night to celebrate?’

Maddy giggled as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively,
feeling young and carefree and so in love she was sure she was about to burst.

How could he have known she wanted this, when she hadn’t even known it herself? And how could he have taken the time and trouble to make it happen if he wasn’t at least a little bit in love with her too?

Rye listened to Maddy’s breathing deepen as she lay exhausted in his arms, his body still humming from the afterglow of their passionate celebration, but his own refused to do the same. Ruth’s throwaway comment earlier played over and over again in his mind like a cracked record.

Clearly Maddy here is even more special than I imagined.

Ruth had always been remarkably perceptive. When he’d been a brash young entrepreneur of twenty-five, it was one of the things about her he’d liked the most. She’d been perceptive enough to realise their brief but passionate affair had no future without him having to tell her—and because of that she was one of the few women he’d managed to stay friends with. But the knowledge that she knew him better than most only made her comment all the more disturbing.