Defiant Mistress, Ruthless Millionaire(9)

       
           



       

She walked with a grace that was hard to ignore. The fabric of her dress  skimming over the curve of her hips and swaying gently with the totally  female movement of her legs as they crossed the tiled expanse of floor.  He wondered, not for the first time, if her movements would be as  graceful in the bedroom.

Something deep inside him tightened and a flare of heat blossomed at its  nucleus. He looked forward to finding out. It would be a pleasure for  them both.

"What would you like to drink?" he asked as he held out a cushion-covered, wrought-iron chair for her to sit down on.

"Something cool and nonalcoholic, please."

Josh was a little surprised. "Sure you don't want a glass of wine?"

"No, thanks. I never drink alcohol when I'm driving."

"Wise choice. Fruit punch okay?"

"Sounds delicious."

He watched the muscles in the slender line of her throat move as she  swallowed imperceptibly. She was nervous. Intriguing. In the office she  worked at his side with impeccable efficiency-even last night she'd been  the same, despite her obvious annoyance at him taking it for granted  that she'd be there with him.

Was it the idea of having returned the painting that made her feel this  way, he wondered. Returning a gift was never a particularly easy thing  to do. He knew enough about her circumstances to understand why the  message the artist had conveyed with a series of skilful brushstrokes  would have resonated with her. Any teen who'd been through Irene  Palmer's system had come from tougher backgrounds than most and Callie  was very much the poster child for what Irene's foundations worked to  achieve. Reluctantly, he had to hand it to the old bag: she'd got it  right with Callie.

Josh reached for a condensation-sweating pitcher on the drinks trolley by their table and poured two glasses of fruit punch.

"Are you driving, too?" Callie asked, with a hint of acerbity, as she accepted her drink.

"No, but I don't need alcohol to have a good time."

His words seemed to relax her and her features settled into a smile.

The investigation he'd made into her past was scant on details but he  knew, from the confidential file his staff had compiled, that there'd  been family problems with drug and alcohol dependency. She'd chosen to  walk-or, more precisely, run-away from it, losing herself in the streets  of Auckland's inner city. And despite that, she'd survived. He admired  her all the more for making a personal stand when it came to her own  choices.

Over their dinner of succulent eye-fillet steaks, baby potatoes and  sliced zucchini and capsicum seared on the barbecue, it amused him to  have Callie probe carefully about his own past.

"So you were brought up by your mother?" Callie asked.

"Yeah, I was. We lived in Wellington."

"She must be proud of you."

"She's dead," he answered bluntly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. You must miss her very much." Genuine remorse filled Callie's eyes.

"Every single day. She died far too young." Josh didn't even try to keep the bitterness from his voice.

"You were lucky to have always had her support, though. That kind of thing can never be taken for granted."

There was a wistfulness in Callie's voice that pulled him very much into the present.

"You're right. Sometimes I just need to be reminded of that fact." Josh  forced himself to smile at Callie. "And she would have been proud of me.  It was always her greatest wish to see me succeed."

A light sea breeze wafted across the air, bringing a cool change to the evening.

"Come on, let's go inside for dessert and coffee. It's getting cold."

Callie started to pick up the plates from the table. Josh put his hand firmly over hers and drew it to his chest.

"Uh-uh. You're not here to work. I can take care of them later."

With a faint nod of acquiescence, she allowed him to draw her away from  the table and up the shallow tiled stairs, between tall cypresses, that  led toward the back of the house.

Over homemade shortcake, courtesy of his day housekeeper, and the decaf  coffee Callie insisted on, Josh maintained very general conversation,  but he wasn't oblivious to the way Callie's eyes darted around the room  from time to time. Especially when her gaze alighted, with barely  concealed interest, on a collection of framed photographs on the  sideboard.

"Do you mind?" she asked, gesturing to the pictures.

"Sure, why not?"

He followed her over to the pictures. She unerringly picked up the duplicate of the one he had in his office.                       
       
           



       

"This is you and your mum, isn't it? It's the same as the one at work."  She smiled, her fingertip tracing the outline of his youthful face  behind glass. "You both look so happy."

"She was still well then and, yes, despite everything, we were happy," Josh conceded.

"I'm glad," Callie said simply. She shot a look at her wristwatch. "Oh,  is that the time? I must head off. I've really enjoyed this evening.  Thank you."

As he saw her to the door he knew he needed to make his first definitive move.

"I hope you weren't too upset that I couldn't keep the painting," Callie  said as she pressed the button on her key to unlock her car.

"Not upset exactly," Josh responded, choosing his words carefully.

"Oh?"

"Just sorry I caused you distress in any way."

As Callie started to speak again Josh placed his index finger firmly  against her lips. "Don't make excuses for me. I can handle making a  mistake every now and then."

Before she could summon a protest, he lowered his head to hers and  replaced his fingertip with his lips. The sudden jolt that shattered  through him came as a complete surprise. Yes, logically he knew he found  her attractive. What red-blooded hetero guy wouldn't? But the searing  heat plunging through his veins was totally unexpected. He fought to not  pull her to him, to align the soft curves of her body against the hard  planes of his. To answer the primitive roar that filled his mind even as  he fought to keep the kiss light.

She tasted of the mixed berries and white chocolate shortcake, and the  sweetness, combined with her own unique flavour, spread through his  senses like an intoxicating elixir.

Not touching her was torment. Taking her lips not enough. With a groan,  he gave in to his body's demands and slid his arms around her, gathering  her to him. The smooth fabric of her dress slithered against his palms  as he stroked across her back. Beneath the silky fabric he felt the heat  of her skin and instantly wanted to know its texture more intimately.

Callie's hands still remained at her side, her fingers clenched around  her car keys. He could feel her tension in every line of her body.  Gently, he deepened his kiss, sweeping his tongue past her lips to  stroke hers, to absorb the tiny sounds she made. Sounds that sent his  blood pulsing even faster and hotter through his veins.

A small tremor undulated through her body-if he hadn't been holding her  so close he might have missed it-but it signalled her capitulation. Her  mouth opened wider, her tongue met his and her keys dropped unheeded to  the driveway as she raised her hands and linked them around his neck,  pulling him closer to her.

Her breasts pressed now against his chest, her hips aligned with his,  her mound pressing against the rigid length of his desire for her. There  was no hiding it. He was unequivocally aroused.

The realisation of how close he was to losing control sluiced through  his mind with the effectiveness of a bucket of iced water. He didn't  want to rush this.

Slowly, Josh withdraw from their embrace, but the insistent hammer of  his heart in his chest belied the call his mind had just made. He  trailed a line of small kisses from the corner of Callie's mouth and up  the soft curve of her cheekbone until his lips rested against her  temple.

Her breath came in short, sharp puffs of air against the bare skin at  the opening of his shirt. His imagination flew into overdrive wondering  what it would be like to feel her breath over the rest of his body. He  bit back a curse and summoned every ounce of control he had left.

Josh lifted his hands to frame Callie's face and tilted her head slightly, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"I'm glad you came over tonight."

"I … " Her voice foundered with confusion.

"You know I want to see you again." He kissed her slightly parted lips  once last time. "And I'm not just talking about in the office."

"I …  I don't know."

"Worried what people will say? We can keep it quiet for now if you want. Think about it, okay?"

He bent and retrieved her car keys from the driveway and opened the car door for her.

"Promise me you'll drive home safely," he said, his eyes boring into hers.