Read Online The Bedroom Barter by Sara Craven - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sara Craven
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because, as they said, this was business—not personal.
He switched off the lamp and straightened, leaving just the moonlight flooding through the undrawn curtains.
Chellie stirred suddenly in her sleep, murmuring something, and Ash backed hastily away from the bed, feeling his foot catch against an object on the floor as he did so.
He glanced down and saw that it was her bag, and that the black dress she'd worn at the club was spilling out of it.
He paused, jolted by the sudden memory of how pale her skin had looked against it, and the smooth, supple movement of her body as she danced for him.
Remembered too that there'd been a moment when he'd let himself forget why he was there. When he'd longed, with an intensity of emotion that had twisted his guts into knots, to see her take it off. When every drop of blood had sung in his veins in anticipation of seeing her naked.
God, he thought with bitter self-derision, just like some adolescent, peeking at top-shelf magazines.
She wasn't the first girl he'd watched take off her clothes, for heaven's sake, but she was certainly the first not to go through with it, he thought, his mouth curling cynically.
And he wasn't the first man she'd stripped for either. He needed to remember that too.
It was no big deal for her, he told himself. It couldn't be, after the way she'd lived her life, so why, suddenly, the maidenly shrinking? Unless she'd balked at being paid to do it.
Whatever the reason, his instinct had told him with total certainty that it wasn't going to happen. And that the desire that pierced him would not be satisfied.
He drew a deep, sharp breath. That, he told himself, had been a moment of weakness that would not be repeated.
He had to ditch those memories—bury them deeply and permanently. Along with the moment when he'd pretended to kiss her, shielding her with his body, and felt her lips tremble under his.
She may be anybody's, he told himself, but she isn't yours. Don't lose sight of that ever again.
He went to the door and left as quietly as he had come.
Laurent was in the pilot house, humming quietly to himself. He looked round as Ash arrived, carrying a plate stacked with chicken sandwiches and two steaming mugs of coffee.
'She is asleep?'
'Out for the count,' Ash confirmed briefly, putting the food down.
'
La pauvre petite
. What an ordeal for her.'
Ash shrugged. 'A self-inflicted wound, but unlikely to leave permanent scarring. She's already showing signs of recovery.'
'You are hard on her, I think.' Laurent took a sandwich and bit into it appreciatively. 'Did you have many problems persuading her to go with you?'
'She was just about to be launched on a career as a lap dancer, and worse. Any alternative would have seemed good.'
'And they just let her go?'
'Not exactly.' Ash smiled thinly. 'There was one hitch, but it was dealt with.'
'I can imagine.' Laurent gave him a wry look. 'They came after you?'
'Oh, they were on our trail. But sadly it was the wrong one. I left an empty matchbook from the Hotel Margarita on the table for them to find, and they went scorching off to the other side of town to browbeat some unfortunate desk clerk.'
'So all is well.' Laurent nodded. 'Victor will be relieved. His faxes are becoming increasingly agitated.'
'Then I'd better put him out of his misery and tell him to keep quiet from now on. As far as the target's concerned, she's just getting a lift to St Hilaire. I don't want anything to arouse her suspicions that there could be more to it than that'
Laurent tutted in reproof. 'Target! Such a cold word to use about such a beautiful girl.'
Ash's mouth tightened. 'I just want it finished with. I need Daddy to hand over the money for his spoiled princess. One last smooth operation before I retire, and no hiccups.'
'The girl-you think she could make difficulties?'
Tonight she was so terrified she'd have grasped at any straw she was offered,' Ash said slowly. 'But tomorrow morning she's going to wake
He switched off the lamp and straightened, leaving just the moonlight flooding through the undrawn curtains.
Chellie stirred suddenly in her sleep, murmuring something, and Ash backed hastily away from the bed, feeling his foot catch against an object on the floor as he did so.
He glanced down and saw that it was her bag, and that the black dress she'd worn at the club was spilling out of it.
He paused, jolted by the sudden memory of how pale her skin had looked against it, and the smooth, supple movement of her body as she danced for him.
Remembered too that there'd been a moment when he'd let himself forget why he was there. When he'd longed, with an intensity of emotion that had twisted his guts into knots, to see her take it off. When every drop of blood had sung in his veins in anticipation of seeing her naked.
God, he thought with bitter self-derision, just like some adolescent, peeking at top-shelf magazines.
She wasn't the first girl he'd watched take off her clothes, for heaven's sake, but she was certainly the first not to go through with it, he thought, his mouth curling cynically.
And he wasn't the first man she'd stripped for either. He needed to remember that too.
It was no big deal for her, he told himself. It couldn't be, after the way she'd lived her life, so why, suddenly, the maidenly shrinking? Unless she'd balked at being paid to do it.
Whatever the reason, his instinct had told him with total certainty that it wasn't going to happen. And that the desire that pierced him would not be satisfied.
He drew a deep, sharp breath. That, he told himself, had been a moment of weakness that would not be repeated.
He had to ditch those memories—bury them deeply and permanently. Along with the moment when he'd pretended to kiss her, shielding her with his body, and felt her lips tremble under his.
She may be anybody's, he told himself, but she isn't yours. Don't lose sight of that ever again.
He went to the door and left as quietly as he had come.
Laurent was in the pilot house, humming quietly to himself. He looked round as Ash arrived, carrying a plate stacked with chicken sandwiches and two steaming mugs of coffee.
'She is asleep?'
'Out for the count,' Ash confirmed briefly, putting the food down.
'
La pauvre petite
. What an ordeal for her.'
Ash shrugged. 'A self-inflicted wound, but unlikely to leave permanent scarring. She's already showing signs of recovery.'
'You are hard on her, I think.' Laurent took a sandwich and bit into it appreciatively. 'Did you have many problems persuading her to go with you?'
'She was just about to be launched on a career as a lap dancer, and worse. Any alternative would have seemed good.'
'And they just let her go?'
'Not exactly.' Ash smiled thinly. 'There was one hitch, but it was dealt with.'
'I can imagine.' Laurent gave him a wry look. 'They came after you?'
'Oh, they were on our trail. But sadly it was the wrong one. I left an empty matchbook from the Hotel Margarita on the table for them to find, and they went scorching off to the other side of town to browbeat some unfortunate desk clerk.'
'So all is well.' Laurent nodded. 'Victor will be relieved. His faxes are becoming increasingly agitated.'
'Then I'd better put him out of his misery and tell him to keep quiet from now on. As far as the target's concerned, she's just getting a lift to St Hilaire. I don't want anything to arouse her suspicions that there could be more to it than that'
Laurent tutted in reproof. 'Target! Such a cold word to use about such a beautiful girl.'
Ash's mouth tightened. 'I just want it finished with. I need Daddy to hand over the money for his spoiled princess. One last smooth operation before I retire, and no hiccups.'
'The girl-you think she could make difficulties?'
Tonight she was so terrified she'd have grasped at any straw she was offered,' Ash said slowly. 'But tomorrow morning she's going to wake
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