Defiant Mistress, Ruthless Millionaire(6)

Good question, he conceded silently. "I hadn't made up my mind to attend until just now. Do you have any objection?"

"I object to the lack of notice, but as it happens I am free this evening."

Josh nodded. "Get used to things happening without notice. One of the  duties I demand from my staff is flexibility and availability. I'll be  at your place at seven-I already know where you live. Be ready."

Josh drew his Maserati to a halt outside the compact two-story town  house Callie had listed as her residence. The brick-and-weatherboard  building was well maintained, and the garden lining the front path was  full of late spring colour with the kind of plants his mother had always  adored. It was a far cry from the manicured perfection showcasing the  palatial 1920s mansion he called home in St Heliers.

Still, considering her location here in Mt Eden, she was doing pretty  well for herself. He wondered how much of her position she'd achieved on  her own and how much had been assisted by the Palmer family. They  tended to look after their own-when it suited them.

With long practice he quelled the habitual anger that flooded his mind.  Things should have been so different for his mother and for him as he  grew up. The reminder of what the Palmers were capable of never lay far  from the periphery of his mind, even if they'd successfully hoodwinked  the nation into believing they were squeaky-clean paragons of society.

Payback would be an absolute bitch. He would personally make certain of that.

His hand hovered at the wood-panelled front door to knock, but before  his knuckles could rap against the varnished surface the door swung  open.

Not a lot took Josh's breath away these days, but the vision of elegant  sophistication in front of him managed to succeed where many had failed.

At first he thought her halter-neck gown was black, but in the overhead  lighting he realised it was a rich dark chocolate brown-the same colour  as her eyes. The fabric skimmed over her body, in much the same way his  fingers now itched to do, caressing each curve in a subtle yet sensuous  sweep.

He let out a long low-pitched whistle.

"You look amazing."

"Thank you. You did say formal. I hope this isn't too much."

Too much? He stepped back to appreciate the rear view of the dress as  she came through the doorway and methodically locked her front door. The  creamy skin of her back was exposed until just below her shoulder  blades, and for some reason he found what the gown hid even more  enticing than what it revealed.

"It's perfect. Thank you."

"For getting it right?" Callie looked up at him from sexy smoky-shadowed eyes.

"Yes."

"Believe me, I've been well trained."

There was a note to her voice he couldn't put his finger on. Not quite strain, not quite cynicism, either.

Josh felt his lips curve into a smile. "I can well imagine."

Callie stiffened at his side. "What do you mean by that?"

"The Palmers expect a certain, shall we say, level of behaviour in their consorts."                       
       
           



       

"As do you," she was quick to retort.

"As do I," he conceded with a small nod of his head. He placed his hand on the small of her back. "Come, let's get going."

She didn't move immediately and he wondered if she thought he was being  too informal touching her as he did, but her lips firmed slightly, as if  she'd come to some silent decision, and she allowed him to guide her  back down her pathway toward his waiting car.

Beneath his hand the silky fabric of her gown shifted with each step she  took, the movement barely detectable but enough to set up a hum of  electricity tingling across his palm. It would be no hardship to ease  the sensation by stroking his hand across the gentle curve of her hip,  but he knew he wouldn't give in to the elemental urge. Not this time.

At his car he swung open the passenger door and waited as she settled  into the leather seat and scooped the skirt of her dress inside so it  was clear of the doorframe.

Her slender feet were wrapped in a web of delicate bronze leather  straps, her toenails painted vermilion. The tingle of electricity that  had started on his hand gathered momentum and sent a jolt of something  stronger straight to his groin. Man, she had sexy feet. He'd never  thought of himself as a foot kind of guy, but when it came to the parade  of footwear Callie wore he'd been easily swung over.

"Nice shoes," he commented after he'd shut her door and settled into the driver's seat beside her.

"Thank you." A wry smile played around her glossy lips, lips he imagined  would feel as soft and tender as they looked. "Shoes are a bit of a  weakness of mine," she admitted.

"I noticed," Josh laughed, determined to put her at ease tonight.

"Ah, well, I suppose we all have our vices. What's yours?"

Her question hung in the air between them. What would she do, he  wondered, if he admitted his? Instead, he replied smoothly, "I have no  vices."

Her snort of disbelief was barely audible.

"What?" he asked. "You think I do?"

"I don't know you well enough to comment."

"But you've heard rumours," he pressed.

"Some, however I'm not in the habit of forming opinions based on rumour."

"An admirable quality," Josh conceded.

"One of my many," she replied in that tone she'd used at the front door.

He put that thought away to examine later. Callie Lee was proving to  have intriguingly hidden depths he hadn't anticipated. Much as he hadn't  anticipated the alluring draw of her sensuality. The fact that she was  oblivious to it made her even more tempting, and she was a temptation he  would succumb to-all in good time.

Callie watched as people swirled about the gallery. Most were more  interested in being noticed among the Who's Who of Auckland's glitterati  than in the quality of the art on display. She'd done the rounds as  Josh's assistant, ensuring that the right sponsors rubbed shoulders with  the right beneficiaries, that those who were only there for a free ride  got what they wanted before being carefully shunted away from the main  rooms.

She'd finally taken a few minutes to peruse the works around the room  herself, prior to the speeches she knew Josh would lead before the  auction results were announced. She paused in front of a small oil  painting. The subject in the picture was faceless but dejection was  evident in the slant of the subject's shoulders. It could have been a  boy or a girl-it didn't matter.

Callie felt a wrench deep in her heart at the picture. She remembered  that feeling. The desolation. The despair. An invisible fist closed  around her throat and the burn of tears welled up in the back of her  eyes. The artist had done more than view the subject. Given the kids  this evening was designed to support, she had no doubt the artist was  the subject.

"Powerful, isn't it?"

Josh's deep voice, close to her ear, made her start in surprise. Last  she'd seen he'd been three deep in discussions with some of the biggest  names in New Zealand industry. The Palmers were, of course, notably  absent.

She nodded, her throat still too choked to speak, but his next words startled her even more.

"Are you going to bid on it?"

She turned to face him. "Are you kidding? I can't compete with the  people here." She smiled deprecatingly. "I'm not in their league."

Josh appeared to consider her for a while before he tilted his head to one side. "No, you're not, are you?"

Even though she'd set herself up for his response she couldn't help but  bristle. Words formed on the tip of her tongue, but before she could  give them voice he continued.                       
       
           



       

"You have many more layers to you, don't you, Callie? You should bid on  the painting. You might be surprised to see what happens," he finished  enigmatically before acknowledging the hail of a well-dressed couple  across the gallery floor. "Excuse me."

He was gone as quickly as he'd appeared at her side and Callie turned  back to the picture, her teeth catching at her lower lip as she studied  it again. That she wanted it was undeniable. The child on the canvas  could have been her. She let her gaze roam over the colours and textures  of the picture, away from the central focus and to the outer range.

And there she noticed a golden glow, a faint ray of sunshine slanting  across the sky; on the bare tree branches were the tiniest of green  buds. Of growth and renewal. Of hope.

For the first time in many years Callie suddenly felt completely  inadequate. She'd have given her entire collection of shoes to be able  to bid what this painting was worth to her on a personal level. Even  then she'd barely scrape the surface. No, no matter how much she wanted  it, there was no way she could reasonably bid on the picture. Anything  less than five figures would be laughable in an atmosphere like  tonight's.