Dirty Aristocrat(21)

Her eyes bulged with fear. Her mama had obviously not told her to never corner someone meaner than herself.

I let go of her finger. 'Now get out of my sight.'

She clasped both her hands together and took an unsteady step back from me.

'What are you doing here, Chloe?' Ivan asked from the doorway of the kitchen.

We were so engrossed in our little spat we had not heard Ivan come in  the door. He had addressed her but he was looking at me with an odd  expression on his face.

'Chloe came for her butt plug,' I said sweetly.

Ivan's eyebrows flew upwards, and I swear, the beginning of an  irritating smirk was starting to curve his mouth as he turned his eyes  on her.

'Oh good, you're here. I was actually hoping to catch you,' Chloe said, her voice quivering with relief.

'Well, come into the living room then,' he said, and turned his body  sideways to make space for her. She practically ran out of the kitchen.

He looked at me. 'I won't be too long,' he said, and followed her wriggling plug-hungry butt.

I curled my fists into balls of frustration. Ugh! What the hell was I  doing living in his house and being forced to endure such humiliating  scenes? It was intolerable. I was so glad I was going off to the sun in a  couple of days.

I switched on the oven and dialed it to 400 degrees. Next: melt the  butter. I dumped the butter into a bowl and stuck it into the microwave.  I found my fingers tapping the countertop as I waited. I forced my  fingers to stop. I looked at my watch. Three minutes had passed since  they went into the living room and closed the door.

Is that not enough time to fit a plug into an itchy bitch?

Obviously not.

I took the bowl of melted butter out and thumped it on the island  surface to cool. A little bit slopped out of the sides and puddled on  the granite.

Next: DIY Buttermilk. I put three teaspoons of white vinegar into a cup  and added whole milk into it. Unlike me, that was going to need five  minutes to sour. I greased a round pan, then stopped, and listened.  There were no sounds at all coming from the living room. I glanced at my  watch. Honestly.

I began measuring the dry ingredients. Indian head stone ground yellow  cornmeal, flour, baking powder, salt. Next job: whisking the cooled  butter, brown sugar and honey. I whisked the mixture so hard it began to  froth. I poured in the buttermilk.

The bastard.

I whisked again. The door to the living room opened.

'Bye, Tawny,' the shameless slut called out in a fake-happy voice.

I didn't answer.

Calm down, Tawny, I told myself as I mixed the dry and wet ingredients with a lot more violence than necessary.

Ivan arrived at the door. I glanced up indifferently. He seemed very  indifferent too. I didn't comment on the lipstick staining his cheek and  squashed the urge to straighten his skewed tie. I even managed to  ignore the smell of her perfume.

He walked to the fridge and took out a beer.

'What are you making?'

Oh! the cheek of the man. 'Cornbread.' My voice sounded vinegary.

I threw a sideways glance at him and the sorry ass actually looked amused. I felt like smacking his head against the fridge.

He sat on one of the stools on the other side of the island. 'I've never tried cornbread,' he said conversationally.

'No, I wouldn't have expected you to.'

'Are you mad about something?' he asked innocently, and I swear he was trying not to laugh.

'No, whatever makes you think that?'

'I don't know. It could be the dark cloud over your head.'

I walked past him, picked up the greased pan, and on my way back to the  bowl managed to accidentally purposely whack the side of his head with  it. Hard. There was a satisfyingly hollow metal-meeting-skull thud.         

     



 

'Ow,' he exclaimed.

There! That sure wiped the smug look off his face. 'Oh, sorry. Did I hurt you?' I purred.

He rubbed the side of his head and looked at me sheepishly. 'What are you so furious about?'

'Nothing.' I flashed him my fakest smile.

'Look,' he said. 'Chloe is not my girlfriend, OK? I don't do  girlfriends. I've had longer relationships with the cartons of milk in  my refrigerator.'

'Oh, is that why she smelt so off,' I fumed.

'You don't believe me?' He seemed shocked.

'Do you want your answer in one word or two?'

'Go ahead be a devil. Use two,' he taunted.

'FUCK NO,' I yelled.

Those incredible silver eyes fixed me in a deadly stare. 'You go ahead  and believe what you want. I didn't mislead her and that's the fucking  truth. She knew exactly what she was getting with me. She just came by  to piss you off. For your information she won't be coming around again,  and if she does, please don't let her in.'

I poured the batter into the tin and clunked it on the table surface to  even it off, before I looked up at him. 'Piss me off? I thought she came  for her butt plug.'

'Tawny,' he sighed, his voice exasperated. 'I don't have to explain  myself to you, but I'll do it this time and only this time. I'm a man  and I have needs. Since you're not planning to take care of them there  are going to be other women, probably lots, in my life. However, none of  them will come around to wherever we are staying.'

I put the tin in the oven and banged the door shut. I crossed my arms  over my chest. 'You're absolutely right. I agree with you. I won't bring  my sexual partners around to wherever we're living either.'

He jumped out of his chair and crossed the room so freaking fast I  gasped with astonishment when he grabbed my upper arms. His face was  tight with barely leashed fury and his eyes were glowing. Oh my god! He  could pierce someone's soul with those wolf eyes. My mouth dropped open  and I stared at him, shocked.

The air between us crackled with tension. He opened his mouth to say  something, then he appeared to remember himself. His breath came out in a  rush. He let go of my arms and stepped back. His hands hung by the  sides of his body, but they were hard fists.

I stood rooted to the spot staring at him. It was amazing how suddenly  and violently his mood had changed. One moment he was relaxed and  placatory, even amused, and the next he was charging at me like some  thunder god.

I was startled by the lightning change in him, but even more shocking  and confusing was the way my traitorous body was still reacting to him.  My eyes couldn't help staring at his broad chest, the way it rose and  fell with every breath he took, the snug fit of his trousers over his  lean hips.

What was wrong with me?

How could I be aware of his innate sexiness and his primal virility when we were slap bang in the middle of a slanging match?

He took another step away as if I was something that was dangerous to him, his eyes were hooded and guarded.

'I came home early because my ever resourceful secretary managed to  reduce the twenty-eight days of notice necessary at the Registry Office  to six days. She made us an appointment for three days' time. We're  getting married at 2.00 p.m. this coming Monday, and I was going to take  you to dinner tonight to celebrate,' he said softly.

A strange silence crept in between us.

He just stood there, his eyes steady on me. It was like we were at two  ends of a bridge. We could see each other but we could not touch. Two  much bad stuff lay between us. I felt the pressure to say something.  Anything. I had to make it right. I had been a bitch. The rusty wheels  in my brain turned round and round. Anything at all would be good,  Tawny.

'So take me out then,' I said, my voice barely a whisper.

'Do you like Japanese food?' He said the words slowly.

'Not to celebrate our wedding,' I said.

He smiled crookedly. 'French?'

'Nearly there.'

He smiled. 'Italian?'

'You have one last try.'

He cocked an eyebrow. 'English?'

I smiled. 'I can live with that.'

'Pick you up at your door at half-eight?'

'Sounds like a fine plan to me.'

He broke eye contact, nodded, and turning away disappeared into his study.

I stood there looking at the empty doorway. What the hell just happened between us?

It looked very much as if I was throwing away my best laid plans and going out on a date with Lord Ivan de Greystoke.





CHAPTER 19


Tawny Maxwell

I washed my hair, dried it, and painstakingly put corkscrew curls in it.  Then I painted my nails ice cream yellow, colored my eyes smoky and  moody, glossed my lips, and got into the new black dress I bought at  Liberty.         

     



 

Mama always said, it is better to be late than arrive ugly, but I was  standing in front of my mirror by seven-thirty sharp, and nobody could  have guessed I once ran barefoot and tangle-haired to the creek to swim  naked.

Ivan knocked on my door and I saw my eyes light up like a Christmas tree  in the mirror. Girl, that's a bad sign right there. Taking a deep  breath, I walked over to the door and opened it.

Oh my!

Darkly urbane, radiating a wild, feverish excitement, he stood, dressed  all in black except for a fabulously cut cream jacket. His blazing eyes  lusted for me. It made my knees go weak but I smiled all sultry and  sexy-like, and didn't let on that I thought he was prettier than a glob  of butter melting on a stack of pancakes.

'Can I keep you?' he teased.

'Only if you keep me in a jar and give me lots of treats!' I replied.

He laughed. 'Don't worry there'll be all kinds of lovely things in there for a good little girl like you to suck and swallow.'