‘All right, then. I invite you to stay,’ he amended.
‘Why?’
‘Because I think you must be feeling a little overwrought and probably much too tired after … last night,’ he reminded her with his irises darkening, although he was still smiling, ‘to be in any fit state to go anywhere.’
‘I’m surprised, after all you called me yesterday—deceitful, lying, naïve—’ she took a warped pleasure in reminding him equally ‘—that you should even care.’
‘Of course I care.’
A glimmer of something deep inside her responded too eagerly to that heavily breathed statement. A throwback to her teenage years. That was all it was, she told herself chaotically.
‘You’re under my roof,’ he went on, surprising her because she’d thought it was Mitch’s house. ‘I wouldn’t want to be responsible for driving you out.’
‘Your roof?’ she enquired obliquely, while reluctantly processing the fact of his merely feeling responsible for her.
‘Does that surprise you?’
‘No.’ Nothing about him surprised her.
‘My roof. My house …’ her breath caught sharply as the mattress suddenly depressed beneath his weight ‘… and my bed.’
His voice was arousing in itself, even without the things he was saying, and she thought of those couple of lovelorn weeks she had spent in his office, listening to his voice from behind that glass partition, wondering what it would be like to hear it roughened by desire.
‘If Hélène’s getting breakfast, we don’t have time,’ she said breathlessly because he was already turning back the sheet, making her whole body scream in anticipation.
He laughed softly. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said, pressing his lips against her forehead, and his voice was so soft she had to close her eyes because she couldn’t deal with the depth of feeling it aroused in her, ‘I think we do.’
RAYNE decided she had to go and visit Mitch at the clinic as soon as possible, since it had all come out now, who she was and why she was there.
She didn’t feel like seeing a man who had used the terms of a signed agreement as a payback to ruin his ex-partner because, no matter how bad or naïve a businessman Grant Hardwicke had been, that was what Mitch had effectively done. But although she was still in shock over the things King had told her about her father, she still felt she owed it to Grant Hardwicke to hear the facts first-hand from Mitch himself.
At King’s insistence, Rayne allowed him to drive her to the hospital, where a handful of reporters who had learned of Mitch’s condition leaped on them like locusts as soon as they arrived at the main doors.
‘Is it true, Mr Clayborne, that this health scare of your father’s is more serious than the clinic is saying?’
‘Is there any improvement in his condition?’
‘Does this mean Clayborne shares in all areas are set to rise further with the expectation of your taking outright control?’
Questions came thick and fast, with microphones being thrust towards them, so that Rayne realised just how influential and newsworthy the Clayborne name was.
‘You’ve heard the clinic spokesman’s statement. My father’s condition is stable,’ King answered, pressing forward unperturbed, taking it in his stride. ‘I’ve nothing more to add.’
‘Mr Clayborne!’ a female journalist shouted over the jostling heads. ‘Can we deduce from your arriving here accompanied this morning …’ her gossip-hungry gaze fell pointedly on Rayne ‘… that your relationship with super-model Sophie Ringwood is well and truly over?’
Rayne gave a small gasp as a flashbulb suddenly went off in her face.
‘No comment,’ King said, his arm coming instinctively around her.
Rayne was glad of his shielding strength, turning her head into the immaculate pale jacket covering his shoulder as the camera flashed again before he hustled her inside the building.
‘I’m sorry about that.’ His face was grim as they came into the bright modern efficiency of the airy clinic. ‘It comes with the territory, I’m afraid.’
‘Naturally,’ Rayne returned, breathless from all the commotion, feeling the sudden loss of his arm around her shoulders. She didn’t think she could ever get used to living life in the spotlight as he obviously had, she thought, trying not to dwell on what that reporter had said about his super-model girlfriend as he guided her towards a waiting lift.
‘Remember he’s ill,’ King warned when she refused his offer to accompany her into Mitch’s room as they were stepping out of the lift, insisting on going in alone. ‘And it won’t do either of you any good to get into a stew.’
‘As if I would!’ she breathed. ‘Unlike your father, I do have ethics,’ she added under her breath as a passing nurse, looking interestedly at King, gave Rayne the remainder of her smile.
The stark reminder of just how attractive he was to the opposite sex, coupled with nerves over how she was going to broach the subject with Mitch, made her look flushed and uneasy as she steeled herself to enter the man’s room.
It was light and beautifully furnished, with only the bleep of a machine and other necessary equipment around the bed where Mitch was lying, propped up by pillows, reminding her that this wasn’t some luxury hotel.
‘How are you?’ she asked with genuine concern, despite everything. He looked less florid and much more relaxed than she’d seen him before.
‘No need for preliminaries, child.’ Still his impatient self, he was waving her concern aside. ‘You can see how I am. Alive! And you, I believe,’ he went on, his watery blue eyes unsettlingly direct, ‘have something you want to say to me.’
‘All right, then.’ Now she wondered why she had been worrying about exactly what she was going to say, but she should have known how much he was like King. Love them or hate them, the Clayborne men always made things easy by cutting to the chase. Always taking command. Well, like it or not. She could do that too! ‘Why did you do what you did to my father?’ she demanded with her breasts lifting rapidly under the light fabric of her flattering yet simply tailored shift. ‘I don’t care how many agreements he signed. You could have acknowledged that MiracleMed was his concept and you didn’t.’
Mitch’s mouth twisted as though he was considering how best to answer. ‘Did King tell you that?’ he enquired. ‘That I could have done the decent thing and decided not to?’
‘No. He didn’t have to,’ she murmured torturously, guessing that Mitch must have told him that yesterday, which was why King had looked so … what was it? … devastated, almost, she decided, when he had returned from here last night. But he hadn’t told her because, of course, he would have wanted to protect his father, even though deep down he must have been shocked and thoroughly appalled. She didn’t know how she knew that. She just did.
‘Oh, I know about your … wife.’ It hurt excruciatingly to say it. To have to accept that her father had been having an affair. ‘And yes, King did tell me that. But surely that wasn’t enough reason to …’ She couldn’t go on. Pain and resentment, anger and betrayal—it was all there in the anguish marring her face.
‘Have you ever been in love, Rayne?’ The man’s tone had softened as his silver head tilted to study her. ‘No, don’t answer that.’ His breath seemed dragged from him. ‘That wasn’t any excuse. But Karen was the only woman I’d loved