Only once during her dressing did Jade’s mind whip back to the distressing events of the previous evening. Melanie had lent her a bra—they were around the same size—but Jade found her bruised breasts too sore to tolerate the constriction. For a moment, as she was forced to face her physical damage, fear swept in again, but this was swiftly followed by a bitter fury. Being a quivering victim was not Jade’s style. She gritted her teeth and vowed she would not let some pervert damage her mind. He could damage her body—that would heal!—but not her mind. Her mind was her own. She refused to have it warped or twisted. If she did, she might end up like her mother. Now there was a warped and twisted mind if ever there was one!
So with her freshly shampooed and moussed hair teased to its maximum height on top of her head, and enough Spellbound perfume on to cast a thousand spells, Jade swanned downstairs and along to the formal drawing-room where Melanie said her father was having pre-dinner drinks with his guest. The grandfather clock in the hall donged seven-thirty as Jade passed. Dinner had been ordered for eight.
Both men were sitting down when she sashayed in, her father on the green velvet sofa that faced the fireplace, while Mr Cool occupied one of the overstuffed brocade armchairs that flanked the marble hearth. There were no guesses which one drew her attention first.
Hell, but he looked as lethally attractive sitting there, sipping his drink, as did the drink he was sipping. By the colour, it had to be straight Johnny Walker. Jade conceded she could have done with a stiff drink herself right at that moment, her courage in danger of failing her. What was it about this man that rattled her so—the fact that she fancied him so badly, or that he didn’t fancy her at all?
She resisted licking suddenly dry lips and kept moving into the room, her skirt swishing around her bare legs, her eyes still on Kyle Armstrong, waiting for—no, hoping for—a favourable reaction to her vastly changed appearance.
His eyes lifted as she approached, locking with hers. They remained perfectly steady, showing nothing in their coal-black depths that she could read. But he didn’t turn his eyes away and oddly she gained the impression he was challenging her, no, compelling her to keep looking at him. Suddenly she felt the power of his mental strength, and her knees almost went from under her. This most uncharacteristic weakness unnerved Jade, unnerved then annoyed her.
Gathering herself, she shot him a bold smile, hoping to ruffle his equilibrium as much as his gypsy-eyed stare had ruffled hers. But he didn’t smile back, merely lifted his drink to his lips again, keeping up his cool assessment of her over the rim.
Jade found her smile fading and an amazing blush heating her cheeks. Totally rattled now, she wrenched her eyes away from him to land on her frowning father, who couldn’t seem to make up his mind whether he liked how she looked or not. She appreciated his ambivalence, and found amusement in it, thank heavens. She needed something to break this awful tension that had been invading her since entering the room.
‘Good evening, Father, dear,’ she said, abandoning her usual address of Pops. ‘Kyle,’ she added, inclining her head their guest’s way without actually meeting his eyes.
Both said good evening back as she continued over to the rosewood drinks cabinet, where she mixed herself a triple Scotch and ginger ale, taking a deep swallow before returning to make the twosome a far from cosy threesome.
Her father clicked his tongue impatiently when he had to move his cane for her to sit down next to him. ‘Did you finish whatever it was you had to finish?’ she enquired casually, crossing her legs and tucking her ankles back toward the base of the sofa.
‘I think we tied up everything to our mutual satisfaction, wouldn’t you say, Kyle?’ Byron conceded, his reply not really telling her anything.
‘Yes, indeed,’ came Mr Cool’s equally uninformative remark.
Piqued, Jade decided to put this chauvinistic pair on the spot. ‘Auntie Ava says Kyle is going to be the new head of marketing at Whitmore Opals—is that right?’
‘Damned woman,’ Byron muttered under his breath.
Jade laughed. ‘Did I hear right, Father, dear? Are you calling me a woman at last?’
His hard blue eyes turned her way. Clearly, he would have liked to tear strips off her for her impudence, but the presence of a guest stopped him. With a great effort of will, Byron relaxed back on the sofa and found a smile that should have warned her what was coming.
‘A real woman is more than a set of curves, daughter, dear,’ he said with poisonous pointedness.
‘So true, so true,’ she returned airily after taking another deep swallow of her drink. ‘And a real man is more than an impressive set of—er—muscles. Don’t you agree, Kyle?’ she finished, flashing him a mock-innocent smile.
Good God, was she imagining things or was that actually a twinkle of amusement in those implacable dark eyes of his? His mouth, however, maintained its habitual straight line, though he did cover it slightly by lifting his drink to his lips once more.
The glass retreated and yes, his mouth was as unmoved as before. ‘I most certainly do agree, Jade,’ he said smoothly. ‘And you’re right about that other matter as well. Byron has offered me the position as marketing manager and I have accepted.’
Most Australians didn’t move their lips much when they spoke. Kyle Armstrong, however, had a surprising mobile mouth when he talked, his voice clear, cultured and well enunciated, like an actor. It drew one’s attention to his mouth, and his lips.
Intriguing lips, those, Jade realised, her gaze fastening on them, the top one thin and cruel, the bottom soft and sensual. Which was the real man? God, she just had to find out. But how? He wasn’t at all impressed by her. Or interested.
Or was he?
Her eyes lifted to that enigmatic gaze of his, only to find it fixed on the expanse of tanned thigh she was showing. Jade’s heart began to beat faster. Maybe he was a little interested. Maybe he was just good at hiding it. Maybe it was only her father’s presence that stopped him from showing any interest. What was he wondering while he looked at her legs? Was he speculating what it might be like to get lost between them?
Jade found herself pressing her thighs tightly together, appalled by the escalating explicitness of her thoughts.
So this was lust, she thought dazedly.
This was one of the seven deadly sins.
No wonder people fell prey to its seductive power. She’d never felt so excited, so driven.
Once again, she started hoping that Kyle might be married, so that she had a good reason to fight this alien force that was possessing her.
‘Are you married, Kyle?’ she asked abruptly.
‘No,’ he said, his brows drawing slightly together as his eyes lifted to hers. ‘Why do you ask?’
Perversely, she was relieved by the news, which didn’t augur well for her future behaviour. Jade suspected she was about to embark on a course of action even more outrageous than any she’d ever been accused of. ‘I was just wondering what your wife—if you had one,’ she added with a husky laugh, ‘might think of her husband moving interstate for a job.’
‘How did you know that...?’ The corner of his mouth tipped up into the tiniest of rueful smiles. ‘Ah...your Auntie Ava again?’ he suggested drily.
‘Of course.’
‘I’ll never tell that infernal woman another damned thing!’ Byron pronounced testily from the other end of the sofa.
‘Poor Auntie,’ Jade muttered before rounding on her father, her voice sharp. ‘Why all the cloak and dagger stuff, anyway? Who’d care if Mr. C—?’ She broke off, her eyes