Millionaire Under The Mistletoe: The Playboy's Mistress / Christmas in the Billionaire's Bed / The Boss's Mistletoe Manoeuvres

Reece didn’t prevaricate. ‘Yes.’

Deep down she’d always known he didn’t live in the same world as she did. Darcy tried not to let her disappointment show; she’d been secretly hoping that Nick might have got it wrong. Now there was no point even dreaming this thing might be anything other than a one-night stand.

‘I suppose you’re famous too?’ she accused bitterly.

She made it sound as though he’d been concealing the fact he was wanted by Interpol. Reece had never met a female who had reacted in quite this way to his social position and wealth before.

‘Obviously not,’ he drawled, amusement in his voice.

‘Don’t be offended,’ she soothed absently. ‘I don’t read the financial pages.’

‘But Nick does?’

‘Hardly; he’s a sports journalist.’

Reece laughed. ‘I think you’re being a bit severe; I knew a sports writer once who had read a book.’

Darcy couldn’t summon the necessary smile to respond to his raillery. ‘Are you involved in property development? Is that why you came to the Hall?’

‘My company is involved in property development,’ Reece agreed, not mentioning that this property development didn’t include small country houses being renovated on a shoestring.

It did involve a string of brand-new hotels in various capitals of the world which the leisure arm of his empire now ran. A good many office complexes and several sports stadiums which had popped up all over Europe had also begun their existence on a drawing board in the Erskine Building—he didn’t mention this either.

‘Then you’re some sort of property developer…?’ she prodded.

‘That was one of the areas we’ve diversified into during the last few years.’

‘We?’

‘Well, it’s not a one-man show; my sister Kate is heavily involved in the running of the hotel chain, and my cousin Declan has just joined us. My kid brother has just finished his stint at Harvard, so hopefully he’ll—’

‘You told me you didn’t have a family!’ Darcy twitched her rear-view mirror and saw an almost comical grimace of dismay register on his drop-dead gorgeous features.

‘I did…?’ he echoed evasively.

‘Yes, you did.’

‘They’re a lovely bunch but a bit…overwhelming en masse—like at Christmas time. Don’t you ever wish you were an only child…?’

The encounter with Nick still fresh in her mind, Darcy found herself nodding. ‘When I’m around Nick, yes, I do.’

‘The guy’s only trying to protect you.’ Reece had a sister of his own, and a real headache she was too.

Darcy could hardly believe her ears—Reece, defending Nick of all people! ‘This male bonding is all very sweet but have you forgotten it’s you he wants to protect me from?’ she reminded him.

‘I’d not forgotten. I have this nasty feeling when he gets me alone he’s going to ask me what my intentions are.’

Did he really expect her to appreciate the humour of this remark? ‘He already knows. That’s the problem.’

She sensed his looking at her, and couldn’t stop herself taking her eyes off the road for a split-second…he was pushing an unruly hank of glossy almost black hair from his eyes. Did he always have to look so damned pleased with himself? she wondered, resenting the way just looking at him sent her temperature rocketing.

Reece would have been astonished if he’d been privy to her thoughts. He had rarely felt less complacent in his life; things were happening to him that he didn’t want or need—his eyes were drawn to the shell-like shape of her ear—cancel ‘didn’t need’. Every time he looked at this woman he needed with a capital N.

‘Perhaps he could tell me,’ he muttered under his breath.

‘Pardon?’

She wanted to know; well, he’d tell her! ‘I can’t look at your ear without wanting to whisper in it. I can’t look at your mouth—’

‘Stop!’ Darcy yelled, her stressed heart pumping out adrenalin like a pneumatic drill. ‘If you say things like that I’m likely to crash the car.’

‘In that case, wouldn’t it be far safer if you parked somewhere? Somewhere quiet and secluded would be good.’ From what he’d seen, that shouldn’t be too difficult—they’d barely passed another car.

Darcy broke out in a cold sweat. ‘You can’t say things like that to me!’ She could hardly hear herself speak above the frantic clamour of her heart.

Reece sighed. ‘I can’t not say things like that to you. Do you think it’s possible they’ve put something in the water…?’

‘I think it’s possible you’ve got nothing better to do than harass me,’ she responded weakly in a strangulated version of her own deep, husky voice.

‘Actually, I brought a heap of paperwork with me.’

‘I’m flattered no end.’

‘Do your boyfriends always have to work so hard?’

She could have said What boyfriends? but she didn’t want to reveal the disgraceful lack of sexual encounters in her work-orientated life. ‘You’re not a boy or my friend.’

‘I’m your lover.’

This man was the master of the one-liners; there was no doubt about it. Darcy dabbed the beads of sweat from the full outline of her upper lip with the tip of her tongue and tried to coax her respirations into a more manageable rate.

‘You’re my one-night stand,’ she bit back coldly. He would never know that this admission hurt her more than it did him. ‘Listen, I can see why you might think I’m up for…that I might want you to…’ Darcy’s voice dropped to an agonised whisper. ‘You know what I mean.’ Still he didn’t respond. ‘Last night wasn’t me…’

Even though her eyes remained rigidly fixed on the road, she could feel his eyes travelling over her body, her skin prickling in response to the unseen scrutiny.

‘I have to dispute that.’

The low rasp of his voice was like a caress, and she could picture his slow, sensual smile in her head. She ground her teeth in frustration.

‘I don’t normally act like that,’ she insisted.

‘Then last night was special…?’

‘Last night was mad, a mistake!’ she yelled. ‘I’m not passing judgement on people that do act like that, but it’s just not me.’

‘I think it is you.’

‘Haven’t you heard a thing I’ve said?’ she asked shrilly.

‘You’ve made a lot of noise but you haven’t come right out and said no.’

She gave a contemptuous laugh. ‘And I’m supposed to believe that’s all it takes…?’

‘Believe it or not, it’s true.’

You could have taken a chainsaw to the tension in the air.

‘Will you fasten your seat belt?’

Reece smiled, but didn’t push his advantage. ‘It hurts the bust ribs,’ he explained mildly.

So would being thrown through the windscreen. ‘Don’t be such a sissy!’ she admonished sternly.

‘You’re the boss.’

If only, she thought wistfully. I should have said no—why didn’t I say it…? ‘If the word “mouth” crosses your lips once more I’ll make you walk back,’ she warned him sternly. Darcy had no intention of becoming a rich man’s plaything—no matter how tempting the notion was.

‘Last night—’

Darcy cut him off. ‘That too.’

‘I have a very extensive vocabulary, Darcy.’

‘And I have a very low tolerance level.’ Her angry sneer morphed into a weak scowl. ‘Why the hell did you come here?’ If he hadn’t been doing so she’d never have met him and her life would have been a lot simpler.

‘Maybe I got tired of well-meaning people trying to rehabilitate me.’

Darcy puzzled over his obscure reply. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘That’s the way I’d like to keep it for the moment.’

There was only a handful of people in the garden centre, but Reece suspected they’d have come in for personal attention even if the place had been packed out. As if he’d been expecting them, the guy Reece assumed ran the place appeared as soon as they drew up. He greeted Darcy warmly and enfolded her in a bear-like hug. When she emerged she reluctantly acknowledged his presence.

‘This is Richard Stenning, my godfather. Uncle Rick, this is Reece, and, before you say anything, he’s not my boyfriend.’

‘But I’m working on it.’

Both men seemed to find this crack amusing; Darcy didn’t.

‘I was thinking between six feet and six feet six…?’ she said briskly, eyeing up the swathes of green pine.

‘I’m six four and a half actually.’

‘Not you, stupid, the tree.’

The older man looked at the bickering couple with a benevolent smile. ‘Come along this way, Darcy, I think I’ve got just what you want.’

Darcy doubted this very much unless he had a supply of six-foot-four-and-a-half males with fascinating green eyes, black hair and sex appeal that went off the scale! Despite this, she stomped obediently after him.

Despite Reece’s unhelpful contributions, she eventually selected one that was neither too bushy nor too straggly and didn’t have any bare bits. The tree was bagged in a net and installed in the back of the Land Rover beside Wally.

‘You’ll have a mince pie, of course?’

Reece bent downwards to enquire in her ear, ‘Is this another family tradition?’

Darcy ignored him and the tantalising male scent of him that teased her receptive nostrils—she was partially successful.

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ she agreed, following their host into the shop area, which was dripping with both tasteful and gaudy Christmas decorations—not the place for a man who was trying to avoid Christmas, although Reece seemed to be taking the festive surroundings in his stride. ‘But no sherry for me,’ she added hastily, with an expression of regret, ‘I’m driving.’

‘But you’ll have some, Mr Erskine?’

‘Reece. Yes, I’d love some.’

Darcy was watching from under the protective sweep of her lashes, so she had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen in shock as he took a robust bite from his innocent-looking pie. Her lips twitched; she was far more tentative in her approach.

‘Delicious as usual,’ she mumbled, chewing away valiantly; Uncle Rick must have a stomach of cast iron, she decided, watching him munch his way through two for her one. The problem with Aunty Grace’s mince pies was that they looked totally delicious and had the consistency of concrete. ‘Aunty Grace has surpassed herself this year.’

‘Delicious,’ she heard Reece agree faintly after he very visibly swallowed.

‘Would you like another, Reece?’

Reece patted his stomach. ‘Love to, but I don’t want to take the edge off my appetite—I’m taking Darcy to lunch,’ he explained glibly.

‘First I’ve heard about it.’

‘It was meant to be a surprise, darling.’ He glanced at the steel-banded watch on his wrist. ‘Talking of which, we should be making a move—I’ve booked a table for twelve.’

‘Where would that be…darling?’ she wondered innocently. The man was entirely too slick.

‘Why, where else but your favourite, daaarling?’ Reece drawled smoothly.

‘Twelve…? You’d better get a move-on, Darcy; it’ll take you twenty minutes to get to the Bull’s Head. You give my best to the family.’

Darcy bent forward and kissed the older man’s cheek. ‘I will, Uncle Rick. Why, Reece!’ she exclaimed, picking up the glass carefully secreted behind a potted palm. ‘You’ve forgotten your sherry,’ she reminded him spitefully.

‘So I have.’ He met her eyes and, nostrils flared, tipped back the glass, downing the contents in one gulp—like taking nasty medicine, she thought, stifling the urge to giggle.

‘Was that a test, or an initiation ceremony?’ he muttered under his breath as they walked together back to the Land Rover.

If it had been he’d have passed with flying colours. ‘Uncle Rick only hands out the mince pies and sherry to valued friends and customers.’

‘I’m surprised he still has any.’

‘Shut up,’ she hissed, waving through the window. ‘He’ll hear you.’

‘What was that I just drank?’

‘Sherry.’

‘I’ve tasted sherry, sweetheart, and that wasn’t it.’

Darcy, who had sampled the sweet, syrupy concoction in the past, had some sympathy with his view. ‘It’s probably safer to call it fortified wine,’ she conceded.

‘How about we head for the Bull’s Head, your favourite watering hole?’ he reminded her drily.

‘How about I drop you at the nearest bus station? Oh, sorry, I forgot I’m talking to limo man.’

‘Helicopters are my preferred mode of transport. Do you realise that nearly all our conversations have taken place while you’re at the wheel of a car—?’

‘Is there anything wrong with my driving?’ she asked belligerently.

‘Not a thing—when you’re looking at the road. It would make a nice change to be able to have a conversation that doesn’t prohibit the odd physical gesture.’

Darcy swallowed nervously and decided it would be safer to never relinquish her place at the wheel. ‘Your problem,’ she announced scornfully, ‘is you think I’ll agree to anything if you kiss me.’

‘From where I’m sitting that’s a revelation not a problem.’

It was one revelation too many for Darcy; she couldn’t concentrate on the road when her mind was full of forbidden images. The battle of words, at times undeniably stimulating, had lost all appeal. With a muffled plea for heavenly intervention she brought the Land Rover to an abrupt halt on the grassy verge. Without even bothering to switch off the engine, she leapt from the driver’s seat.

Reece switched off the engine and pocketed the keys before following her.

Darcy, who was hunched over, her hands braced against her thighs, turned her head to look at him.

‘Go away!’ she pleaded hoarsely. She didn’t actually hold out much hope of his doing as she requested.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Very obviously not.’ She took another deep breath and slowly straightened up. She brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face; it was an intensely weary gesture. ‘If you must know, I couldn’t stand being in that car with you any longer.’ She was past caring what he thought.

Reece didn’t seem to take offence in her anguished observation. ‘It’s pretty intense, isn’t it?’ he commiserated.

Darcy’s brows drew into a suspicious line above her wide, startled eyes. ‘Are you saying that you…?’ She moved her head in a scornful negative gesture, rejecting the idea that Reece could be similarly affected by her proximity.

‘I can’t stop thinking about last night or wanting it to happen again.’ His tone might have been matter-of-fact bordering on rudely abrupt, but the lick of flames in his deep-set eyes was not!

Darcy was shaking so hard she had to fold her arms tight across her middle to hide the tremors. In the process she unwittingly drew attention to her full, heaving bosom. ‘That was sex.’

‘That was exceptional sex,’ Reece contradicted firmly. ‘A relationship has to start somewhere.’

Darcy looked at him blankly. ‘Relationship…? You don’t want a relationship.’

‘How do you know what I want?’ he demanded.

‘Well, do you?’

‘Maybe not. Well, actually, no, I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want to be celibate either.’

He didn’t even have the guts to look her in the eye when he said it, she thought wrathfully. The perversity of the average male was simply breathtaking. But it had shut up the voice in her head, the one recklessly shrieking ‘Go for it! Go for it!’, and a good thing too, she decided glumly.

‘The only thing I know for sure I want is you.’

She couldn’t legitimately complain about eye-contact now—an earthquake couldn’t have broken the grip his dark-lashed eyes had on her. The air escaped her lungs in one long, sibilant hiss; her eyes, huge in her pale face, were glued to his face. Her thoughts were in total chaos. You can’t let yourself be seduced by someone saying he wants you—even if that someone is Reece Erskine, she told herself angrily.

‘Naturally I’m flattered,’ she drawled, giving a scornful, unnatural little laugh that implied just the opposite.

His jaw tightened. ‘I’m not trying to flatter you.’ Reece, who prided himself on self-control, discovered he couldn’t take his eyes from the lush curve of her lovely lips, even though the looking caused the distant buzzing in his head to increase significantly.

‘What are you trying to do, then?’ Other than drive me out of my mind, that is…? It just didn’t seem possible for a man to walk into her life and turn everything upside-down. ‘You may be in the mood for some sort of holiday romance, but I simply don’t have the time, energy or inclination.’ Well, the first two at least were true.

‘I thought you were on holiday too.’

Some holiday! ‘My mum’s gone walkabout, my stepfather, who I happen to be crazy about, needs constant reassurance, several hundred members of the family are likely to descend on us at any second and I can’t even bake a mince pie, let alone feed and entertain them!’ Stupidly it was the last deficiency that made her eyes fill with tears.

Reece moved towards her and she ached to throw herself into his arms. With a stiff little gesture that shrieked rejection she swayed backwards; it stopped Reece in his tracks.

‘Are you trying to tell me this isn’t a good time for us?’ There was no smile to match the flippancy of his tone.

Darcy wanted to cry from sheer frustration, but she didn’t have the luxury. As right as it felt to have his arms close around her, she knew it was all an illusion created by her overactive hormones. If she had been after casual sex she wouldn’t have looked any further than this man: he fulfilled every criteria for the role.

The problem was she couldn’t be that casual about sex, and when she got involved serious disaster usually followed—she was thinking about the rat Michael here, the one who had forgotten to mention his wife and children. His wife with kids in tow landing up on her doorstep pleading with Darcy not to take her husband away was one of her least favourite memories. Just recalling Michael’s defence made her blood boil— ‘I wanted to tell you, Darce, but I didn’t want to hurt you’.

‘There is no us!’

‘There could be if you let it happen.’

And letting it happen would be so easy. Darcy sighed; his voice had a dangerously mesmeric quality…it was so hypnotic and attractive, in fact, that a person was inclined to forget just how outrageous the sentences formed by these perfect lips were.

‘You’re really worried about your mother, aren’t you…?’

This observation brought her back to reality with a resounding thump.

‘Am I supposed to believe you care about what I’m worried about?’ she sneered, eyeing him with open contempt. ‘The only thing you care about as far as I can see is getting me back into your bed!’

It was true, but that didn’t alter the fact her words made him mad as hell. The flare of something close to fear in her eyes made him realise that his feelings must have been reflected on his face, so he made a conscious effort to control his anger.

‘Listen, sweetheart,’ he said after he’d counted to ten a couple of times, ‘I’ve absolutely no idea if this thing is going to run its course in a matter of days, weeks or months but I think for both our sakes we should find out. If we don’t we’ll always wonder…’ He paused long enough for her to appreciate the truth of what he was saying. ‘I know you’ve some sort of guilt trip about sleeping with me last night, but it happened and I don’t see much point beating yourself up over it.’

‘Maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t keep throwing it back in my face. Just for the record, I’m not…easy!’

‘Just for the record,’ he retorted drily, ‘I don’t think you’re easy…anything but, as a matter of fact,’ he added in a wry aside. ‘This isn’t the sort of attraction you can pretend isn’t there, Darcy.’

That was true.

‘I may want to get you into bed,’ he continued with a candour that made her mouth grow dry and started up the distressing palpitations once more, ‘but it doesn’t mean we can’t communicate outside the bedroom.’ Darcy had no way of knowing how extraordinary this statement was coming from Reece Erskine, and Reece wasn’t about to tell her—the truth was, it made him uneasy to acknowledge it. ‘You’re obviously worried about your mother and I thought it might help to talk to someone not personally involved. I may be shallow but I’m not totally insensitive.’

He sounded genuine. She searched his face—he looked genuine. ‘I was only talking to her the day before; she didn’t give a clue anything was wrong.’ Her fingers clenched tightly.

‘And you think you’ve done something?’

‘Not me personally maybe—but us, the family. Why else would she walk out like this just before Christmas? She’s made sure we can’t contact her…’ She gnawed away silently on her lower lip as she puzzled over the bizarre, bewildering behaviour of her parent.

‘It’s possible this is her problem.’

Darcy regarded him with disdain. ‘Families are there to help you with your problems; you don’t shut them out when you most need them.’ An expression she didn’t understand flickered across his handsome face. ‘It’s not at all like her—she’s so responsible. Poor Jack is convinced it’s something he’s done.’

‘But you don’t think so.’

Darcy shook her head jerkily; now she’d started to talk it was hard to stop. ‘Why couldn’t she talk to us…?’ she wondered unhappily.

‘I expect you’ll be able to ask her yourself when she comes home.’

In front of Jack and even her brothers she had to act optimistic and upbeat, and it was a relief almost to stop being so damned cheerful. ‘Whenever that might be.’

‘You’ve no idea at all how long she’s likely to be away?’

Despondently Darcy shook her head. ‘I’m really trying hard to make everything the same as it usually is…’ It seemed important somehow not to let things slip, to keep a sense of continuity.

‘And driving yourself into an early grave in the process,’ he observed disapprovingly. ‘The secret of a successful manager is delegation, Darcy.’ She looked so transparently touched by his comment that he felt impelled to add, ‘You ought to try it; you might even find you’ve got time for a personal life, and, as you already know, I have a vested interest in that.’

She stared wonderingly up into his face. It sounded as if he was saying he wanted to be part of her personal life, which didn’t fit with what he had said about not wanting a relationship—in fact, it seemed to directly contradict it. The warmth in his eyes made her lose track for a few moments. ‘How would I go about doing that?’

‘You really want to know?’

Darcy gave a rueful smile. ‘I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.’

‘Make a list of things you need to do and halve it.’ She opened her mouth to protest but he didn’t give her the opportunity. ‘Divide the remaining tasks amongst the others. And don’t tell me you can’t give orders because I’ve been on the receiving end. Actually,’ he admitted, his firm tone gentling, ‘I quite liked it. Some of the time I quite like you…’

Darcy gulped. ‘And the rest…?’ she prompted huskily.

‘I want to throttle you.’

‘Which is it now?’

‘Neither. It’s been a hell of a long time since I wanted to wake up beside someone.’

‘You’re not trying to tell me you’re celibate?’

‘No, I’m not,’ he agreed tersely. ‘Sex is one form of recreation that I’ve made a point of including in my schedule,’ he explained casually.

There was an appalled silence.

‘That sounds pretty cold-blooded.’ If she’d any sense she’d get back into the Land Rover and drive away. Darcy knew she wouldn’t—she couldn’t.

‘It’s an accusation that has been levelled at me before.’

‘You want to kiss me.’ It was a statement, not a question—it was the sort of statement that a girl who didn’t want to be kissed didn’t make.

‘For starters,’ he growled.

‘Then for God’s sake,’ she pleaded in an agonised whisper, ‘Do it!’

My God, but the man could move fast with the right motivation. She barely had time to draw breath let alone change her mind before his mouth was hard on hers, and his tongue began to make some electrifying exploratory forays into the warm, moist interior.

The sheer pleasure of his touch as his fingers slid surely under the woollen jumper she wore made her whimper and sag, weak-kneed, against him. His hand worked its way smoothly up the slender curve of her back. Darcy grabbed for support and then remembered his injuries.