Read Online Too Proud to be Bought by Sharon Kendrick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sharon Kendrick
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until she’d snapped her seat belt on and then started the engine.
‘So where have you been?’ he questioned as the car pulled away.
‘Exploring. My guidebook said St Jean Gardet was especially beautiful.’
‘And did you agree with your guidebook?’
Zara shrugged. ‘Well, it was certainly very pretty—but the woman in the shop wasn’t particularly friendly towards me.’
‘The locals are very protective, that’s all. We get a lot of strange visitors to the area—journalists looking for a scoop or thieves doing a little prep-work.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ Zara risked a glance at his profile, at the golden gleam of his skin and the soft shadows which fell beneath his high cheekbones. She supposed that when you were as wealthy as he was, you must necessarily view every new acquaintance with suspicion. A pang of guilt ran through her as she remembered her own behaviour the night of the party. Perhaps she couldn’t blame him for being so wary. ‘Otherwise, it was very quiet—there didn’t seem to be anyone else around.’
‘Well, what do you expect? It’s four-thirty in the afternoon, when the day is at its hottest.’ He shot her a glance. ‘Anyone with any sense would be sheltered inside, in the cool.’
‘Having a siesta?’ she said, keen to show him that she did know
something
about a southern European lifestyle.
‘Maybe.’ His mouth quirked into the flicker of a smile. ‘Though I can think of far better alternatives for whiling away an afternoon than merely sleeping, can’t you, Zara?’
Zara kept her eyes fixed steadily ahead. She hadwalked straight into
that
one, hadn’t she? ‘Yet strangely, you’re out in the sun yourself,’ she said.
‘Maybe that’s because I don’t have anyone offering me a little afternoon delight,
milaya moya.
Something which might tempt me into staying home.’
Zara’s cheeks grew even hotter. Afternoon delight meant…well, everyone knew what it meant. He was trying to embarrass her, that was for sure—and she was not going to give him the pleasure of succeeding. ‘I’m sure that can’t be true, Nikolai. Someone like you must be besieged with offers from women all the time.’
‘Oh, I am,’ he agreed gravely. ‘But you know …’ there was a pause as he negotiated a hairpin bend ‘… if something is offered to you on a plate, then it sometimes deadens the appetite.’
‘Yet you ate most of your lunch, I noticed,’ she observed innocently.
At this, he gave an unexpected laugh and behind the concealment of his shades his eyes narrowed. She was brighter than he had thought. Much brighter. Not that it mattered, of course. Her intelligence was not the reason he wanted her. ‘So I did,’ he agreed smoothly. ‘Perhaps I found the meal irresistible because it had been served by your own fair hand.’
‘Or perhaps because you employ a world-class chef to cook it for you?’
He felt the sudden beat of his heart, because her sparring was turning him on almost as much as the silky-pale knees exposed by her cheap little dress. ‘Perhaps.’
‘And where have
you
been driving to?’ she questioned curiously.
Nikolai’s mouth hardened into a grim smile. He’d popped out to his wine merchant in a nearby town. When he’d seen her as he drove back, the closest thing he hadto a conscience had told him that maybe he should just leave her alone. That she had worked hard during lunch and made no attempt whatsoever to flirt with him. In fact, she had a strange kind of innocence about her and he suspected it would be wrong to make love to her.
But her ripe young body and the tremulous parting of her fleshy lips were fast drawing a veil over his reluctant reservations. He wanted to kiss her and he wanted it badly. And she, he suspected, wanted it just as much.
‘I’ve just been to see my friend who delivers my wine for me. And giving the car a run in the process. I’m away so much that it sits idling in the garage for much of the
‘So where have you been?’ he questioned as the car pulled away.
‘Exploring. My guidebook said St Jean Gardet was especially beautiful.’
‘And did you agree with your guidebook?’
Zara shrugged. ‘Well, it was certainly very pretty—but the woman in the shop wasn’t particularly friendly towards me.’
‘The locals are very protective, that’s all. We get a lot of strange visitors to the area—journalists looking for a scoop or thieves doing a little prep-work.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ Zara risked a glance at his profile, at the golden gleam of his skin and the soft shadows which fell beneath his high cheekbones. She supposed that when you were as wealthy as he was, you must necessarily view every new acquaintance with suspicion. A pang of guilt ran through her as she remembered her own behaviour the night of the party. Perhaps she couldn’t blame him for being so wary. ‘Otherwise, it was very quiet—there didn’t seem to be anyone else around.’
‘Well, what do you expect? It’s four-thirty in the afternoon, when the day is at its hottest.’ He shot her a glance. ‘Anyone with any sense would be sheltered inside, in the cool.’
‘Having a siesta?’ she said, keen to show him that she did know
something
about a southern European lifestyle.
‘Maybe.’ His mouth quirked into the flicker of a smile. ‘Though I can think of far better alternatives for whiling away an afternoon than merely sleeping, can’t you, Zara?’
Zara kept her eyes fixed steadily ahead. She hadwalked straight into
that
one, hadn’t she? ‘Yet strangely, you’re out in the sun yourself,’ she said.
‘Maybe that’s because I don’t have anyone offering me a little afternoon delight,
milaya moya.
Something which might tempt me into staying home.’
Zara’s cheeks grew even hotter. Afternoon delight meant…well, everyone knew what it meant. He was trying to embarrass her, that was for sure—and she was not going to give him the pleasure of succeeding. ‘I’m sure that can’t be true, Nikolai. Someone like you must be besieged with offers from women all the time.’
‘Oh, I am,’ he agreed gravely. ‘But you know …’ there was a pause as he negotiated a hairpin bend ‘… if something is offered to you on a plate, then it sometimes deadens the appetite.’
‘Yet you ate most of your lunch, I noticed,’ she observed innocently.
At this, he gave an unexpected laugh and behind the concealment of his shades his eyes narrowed. She was brighter than he had thought. Much brighter. Not that it mattered, of course. Her intelligence was not the reason he wanted her. ‘So I did,’ he agreed smoothly. ‘Perhaps I found the meal irresistible because it had been served by your own fair hand.’
‘Or perhaps because you employ a world-class chef to cook it for you?’
He felt the sudden beat of his heart, because her sparring was turning him on almost as much as the silky-pale knees exposed by her cheap little dress. ‘Perhaps.’
‘And where have
you
been driving to?’ she questioned curiously.
Nikolai’s mouth hardened into a grim smile. He’d popped out to his wine merchant in a nearby town. When he’d seen her as he drove back, the closest thing he hadto a conscience had told him that maybe he should just leave her alone. That she had worked hard during lunch and made no attempt whatsoever to flirt with him. In fact, she had a strange kind of innocence about her and he suspected it would be wrong to make love to her.
But her ripe young body and the tremulous parting of her fleshy lips were fast drawing a veil over his reluctant reservations. He wanted to kiss her and he wanted it badly. And she, he suspected, wanted it just as much.
‘I’ve just been to see my friend who delivers my wine for me. And giving the car a run in the process. I’m away so much that it sits idling in the garage for much of the
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