Defiant Mistress, Ruthless Millionaire(7)

With the discipline of years of practice, Callie resolutely turned her back on the picture and on all it portrayed.

The balance of the evening continued smoothly, but her feet had begun to  ache in their designer splendour by the time the silent auction winners  were to be announced. Many guests had moved on to other, more social,  activities, and the gallery no longer seethed with the press of those  who wanted to be seen to be doing the right thing. Callie let a sigh of  relief slide from her lungs. The evening would be over soon enough and  she'd be home.

Josh was up on the podium, ready to complete his part in the  formalities, and his commanding presence brought the room to a hush.  From her vantage point near the back, Callie let her gaze roam over him.  He was all too easy on the eye. He spoke for fifteen minutes, although  it felt more like five as his deep, strong voice held the attention of  the guests effortlessly and she found herself falling under his spell.  He outlined the purpose of the gallery and pledged Tremont Corporation's  renewed financial support to the scholarship fund-all to great  applause.

After handing the proceedings over to the gallery director, he threaded through the crowd to where she stood.

"Come on, let's go," he said, bending his head to speak quietly in her ear.

"But the auction results," Callie protested.

"Does it matter? Did you bid on Hope?"

"Hope?"

"The oil you were studying earlier."

"No."

Josh gave her one of his rare smiles, the type that appeared to shine  from deep in his blue eyes, as if he could see directly into her soul.  "Why not?"

Callie paused under the intensity of Josh's gaze, unsure of what to say  or what to do. Her pulse kicked up a beat and her lips and throat  suddenly felt dry. The noise of the crowd around them faded away until  the only person in the room with her was Josh. The entrancing scent of  his cologne drifted around her, luring her into its sensual snare.  Eventually, she managed to force her words past her lips.

"To be honest, I didn't think I could bid high enough to do the artist justice."

Josh stepped in closer, his arm sliding around her waist, his hand  resting on her hip-burning a brand of possession she didn't want to  argue.

"I know what you mean. Let's head out, then, hmm?"

He guided her out of the gallery. Once past the crowds, his arm dropped  back away from her side, and suddenly she felt as if she'd been cast  adrift. It had been all too easy to fall into step with him, to savour  the brush of his hip and thigh against her own, as they walked from the  gallery. But she'd been imagining there had been more between them. She  was there to do a job-specifically, a job for his uncontested rival. A  tremor of regret rippled through her.

"Cold?" Josh asked as one of the parking valets brought his car purring around to the front of the building.

"No, I'm fine."

But she was anything but fine. Tonight had proven that no matter how  hard she'd fought against it in the office, she was painfully and  irrevocably drawn to her boss-and that made what she was there to do,  and the time in which she had left to do it, doubly more difficult.

She was silent on the journey home. Oblivious to the streaking lights  passing them by from other vehicles along the road. It wasn't long  before they pulled up outside her town house. Josh turned off the  ignition, the growl of the Maserati's motor lingering like a discordant  echo in the still night air.                       
       
           



       

"Thank you for this evening," Callie said, opening the door herself and alighting from the car as quickly as she could.

She didn't want to wait for him to step around the vehicle and open her  door or even have him touch her, because she didn't want to question too  deeply what she'd do if she did.

She'd been working for him for a fortnight now. Two weeks where she'd  done her best to complete her tasks to the highest standards. Fourteen  days where-instead of looking for an avenue to lead to answers as to who  the Palmer Enterprises leak was-she'd been battling her growing  attraction to a man who was, without a doubt, the one person on this  planet to whom she shouldn't be drawn.

Callie started up the path to her front door. She heard Josh's car door  open, then another sound. Her key was in her hand. Only another couple  of metres more and she'd be inside.

"Callie, hold up a minute. I have something for you."

Josh's voice arrested her retreat and she took a breath to quell the  sudden butterflies that rose in a maddening flock from the pit of her  stomach. She turned to face him.

Her eyes widened as she saw the "something" he'd mentioned. A flat rectangle, wrapped in brown paper.

"I know I didn't give you a whole lot of notice about tonight. I'd like you to have this, as a token of my appreciation."

"That's not necessary. You pay me well for my job. I-"

"Callie," he interrupted. "Take the damn parcel, okay?"

Callie's eyes locked with his and beneath the blue depths she saw  something more than what had been there earlier. Gone was the lazy  humour. Instead, it was replaced by a blazing blue flame. His eyes  dropped to her mouth and the flame burned brighter, before meeting her  gaze again. As if under his control she accepted the parcel, her fingers  brushing his briefly as she did.

Josh gave her a short nod. "I'll see you Monday."

Then, in a roar, he was gone. Callie stood and watched his retreating  taillights, then turned to let herself inside and locked her door  carefully behind her. She rested her head against the door. He'd wanted  to kiss her, she was sure of it. Kiss her and more. She was no naive  ingénue. She knew desire when she saw it.

So why hadn't he acted on it? Why hadn't he breached the distance  between them and taken her mouth with his? Her lips had burned under the  touch of his stare, burned for the reality and not the dream.

Callie straightened up from the door and forced herself to pull her  thoughts, and her hormones, under control. She stepped through into her  sitting room off the small hallway and dropped her evening bag on the  coffee table. Then, carefully, she laid the package on the sofa. Her  fingers were uncharacteristically clumsy as she plucked at the tape  securing the package until, finally, she pulled away the paper.

Callie pushed her fisted hand to her mouth to stem the cry of recognition as the painting was finally revealed.

"Hope."

He'd given her Hope.





Four


Saturday morning dawned with a hint of rain on the horizon. Already the  air outside was warming and the weather promised to be hot and sticky  with the coming showers. What she wouldn't give for a lead-up to  Christmas in a cooler climate for a change. Callie padded down the  stairs and walked through to her kitchen, automatically switching on the  jug for the mandatory cup of Earl Grey tea that drove the sluggishness  of sleep from her body each morning.

Well, it would, had she been able to sleep. When she hadn't been tangled  in her sheets, tossing and turning, her dreams had been fractured by  overtones of the night before. Of the sensation of Josh Tremont's hand  on her back, of the scent of his subtle cologne in the confines of his  car. Of the heat of his gaze before he'd left her at the front door and  of her own body's insistent response.

Every workday for the past two weeks she'd managed to keep a lid on her  reaction to him. And then he had to go and mess that all up by insisting  she accompany him to the gallery.

Unexpected anger rose swiftly from the pit of her stomach. He'd gone too  far giving her the painting last night. No matter how much she'd wanted  it, a person just didn't do things like that-at least not in her world.  In her world every gain had its price. Some you could afford, some you  couldn't, and this was very definitely one she couldn't afford on any  level.

As she waited for the pot of tea to draw she stomped through to her  sitting room and stopped to stare at the painting she'd left propped up  on the seat of her cream leather two-seater. Her chest constricted as  her eyes locked on the figure.                       
       
           



       

It was impossible. No, Josh Tremont was impossible. There was no way she  could accept this gift from him. She'd return it to him today. Monday  would be too late. If she held on to it a moment longer than necessary  she might just give in and keep it and there was no way her pride would  allow her to do that. She was already in over her head repaying a debt  she'd never asked for. She certainly didn't want to owe Josh as well.

She flung a glare at the mantel clock that ticked quietly in the  background. Was seven-thirty too early to call your boss on a Saturday  morning? With a huff of air through pursed lips, she conceded that any  time before Monday was probably too early.