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‘Wouldn’t it be easier,’ Cormac countered, ‘to just get used to each other’s bodies? People are bound to notice if we blush and stammer every time we catch a little glimpse of skin.’
Lizzie knew only one of them would be blushing or stammering. She ran her hands through her hair and let out a frustrated sigh that half turned into a yelp. ‘I wish I’d never agreed to this!’
‘But you did,’ Cormac replied, unruffled, taking off his belt, ‘and now you’re just getting cold feet.’ He tossed the belt onto a chair and began to unbutton his trousers.
Lizzie flung out a hand. ‘Don’t.’
‘Chandler, you’re being ridiculous.’ He sounded annoyed. ‘Stop being a prude and get undressed. Didn’t you realise it would be like this when you agreed?’
‘I thought you’d be a gentleman!’
His voice turned hard. ‘Then I suppose you were mistaken.’
Lizzie’s eyes were squeezed shut but she heard the whisper of sliding fabric and knew he’d undressed. She heard him move to the bed, and opened one eye to glimpse a broad, muscled back tapering to narrow hips and, fortunately, a pair of boxers.
He was wearing underwear. Thank God.
‘You can stand there all afternoon if you’d like,’ Cormac informed her, ‘but I’m going to sleep.’
It only took Lizzie a few seconds to realise how ridiculous she really was being. Every shocked gasp and prudish look gave Cormac more weapons to use against her. More power.
She took in a shuddering breath, not caring if he heard, and resumed unpacking. Despite her resolve, she wasn’t quite ready to get into that bed.
Cormac’s breathing was deep and even before she finally decided to change into her own pyjamas—ones she’d brought from home—faded, comfortable and baggy. She glanced at him one last time to make sure he was asleep before she quickly slipped out of her clothes, grateful for the soft, cool cotton against her skin.
Lizzie moved to the bed and lifted the sheet. She glimpsed Cormac’s midriff, a whorl of hair leading to the waistband of his boxers, and jerked her glance away.
The sheets were cool and smooth, but Lizzie felt as if she were on fire. She lay there, stiff and straight, painfully, achingly aware of Cormac’s relaxed body next to hers.
She shifted on to her side away from him, curled up into a protective little ball.
She heard Cormac stir, felt his breath against her skin. ‘I like your pyjamas,’ he whispered, ‘but I’d like you better naked.’ She felt rather than saw his smile and he tucked the sheet over her shoulder, laughter lacing his voice. ‘Sleep well, Chandler.’
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_0005812d-50f9-509d-baea-9a61d1a8bf93)
LIZZIE lay there, tense, thrumming, angry and afraid. Sleep felt very far away.
Yet she must have drifted off, for what seemed like only minutes later she was blinking sleep out of her eyes as Cormac exited the bathroom. His hair was wet and slicked back from his forehead, his eyes bright in his work-tanned face.
‘Did you know you snore?’ he asked with a wicked smile as he pulled on a crisp white button-down shirt.
‘I didn’t realise I had fallen asleep…’ Lizzie mumbled, brushing a tangle of hair from her eyes.
‘For nearly three hours. It’s time to get ready for dinner.’
What with the jet lag and flying time, Lizzie felt completely disorientated. She didn’t like the way Cormac gazed down at her, mocking laughter in his eyes, his whole body bursting with health, energy and determination.
He jerked his head towards a chair, where Lizzie saw he’d laid out some clothes. Her clothes.
‘I want you to wear that dress tonight.’
She saw it was a simple green sundress with a white floral pattern and a halter-neck.
‘I am capable of dressing myself, you know,’ she snapped, but he simply ignored her.
He continued dressing, buttoning his shirt as he spoke. ‘I talked to Jan while you were asleep and there’s been a slight change of plan.’
‘Oh?’ Alarm prickled, nerves roiled. Change was not good.
‘One of the architects on the short-list had to bow out.’ He glanced at her; his smile had an air of triumph. ‘His child was ill and had to be hospitalised. So you see where those family values get you.’
Lizzie didn’t bother to reply. She knew any protest she made would be ridiculed. Reviled. Cormac Douglas was not a family man, which made this charade all the more difficult. Painful.
Ludicrous.
‘So how does that affect us?’ she finally asked.
‘Jan picked another architect to replace him. An Englishman—Geoffrey Stears.’ He paused, selected his tie and knotted it. ‘I know him.’
Lizzie remembered what he’d said, how no one would know them. Of course, pulling this charade off would be so much easier with strangers. But if this Geoffrey Stears knew him…knew his reputation…
He might also realise he wasn’t actually married. He might leak that information to Hassell, to the press.
‘But doesn’t that change everything?’ she asked. ‘If this Stears knows you…’
‘Getting scared, Chandler?’ he mocked. ‘I knew you’d be easy to intimidate when I chose you, but I have to admit your frightened little virgin act is getting rather annoying. Unless you are actually a virgin?’ He raised his eyebrows, the question in his eyes turning to a feral gleam before he continued. ‘It’s too late to back out, Chandler, so stop having second thoughts. There’s nothing you can do. I’ve made sure of that.’
Lizzie’s fingers bunched the sheet. ‘How?’
‘Or perhaps I should say you’ve made sure of that. You’ve played the game long enough for no one to believe you.’ His teeth flashed in a smile. ‘Your credibility is ruined.’
‘I could still…’ Lizzie began, and Cormac chuckled.
‘Walk out of this room and tell Jan what you’ve been up to? Tell him how you’ve been tricked?’ He pitched his voice in a contemptuous mimicry of her own. ‘“I’ll tell her all of Cormac’s secrets.”’ He gave a little laugh, a mockery of her own, before he shook his head. ‘Tell Jan you’ve been deceived and he’ll throw you out the front door. You’re the deceiver, sweetheart, not the deceived, and you chose that role. So get used to it.’
‘So now you’re blackmailing me,’ she stated flatly.
He shrugged. ‘Call it what you will. I did what I had to to ensure your agreement. And you wanted it, Chandler. You liked the idea.’
Lizzie bit back a retort. What could she say except the truth? And she didn’t particularly want to admit to it.
‘Back out now,’ Cormac continued, ‘and you’ll still suffer the indignity, the shame, or worse. Think about what that means for you…and your sister.’
Lizzie swallowed. The press loved Cormac. Loved to loathe him. News of his duplicity would be a carrion feast to them, and no one even remotely involved would be untouched.
The tabloids would circle her, devour her, then abandon her. Dani was eighteen, impressionable as Cormac had said, maybe even a little scatty. The results, Lizzie knew, could be disastrous. And Cormac must have known…must have guessed, at least.
‘Don’t threaten me,’ she warned, knowing he didn’t even have to. She was already so completely under his control.
There was nothing she could do. And Cormac knew it. Had always known it.
Had planned it that way.
‘Like I said,’ he murmured, ‘enjoy it. Not many secretaries get a chance to live the high life in the Caribbean.’ His eyes lingered on hers, flaring with possibility, with suggestion.
Lizzie felt an answering flicker in her own core.
She wanted this. Him. The excitement, the possibility. Even though it frightened her, he frightened her. Even though she didn’t want anything to actually happen. Did she?
She didn’t know anything any more. She was so, so out of her depth.
And he knew.
He had always known.
She looked away.
‘You’d never say anything, anyway,’ Cormac said after a moment, watching her with a little smile. ‘And why should you? Such a fuss…for what? Besides…’ he shrugged into his suit jacket ‘…you don’t like to make a fuss.’
‘I feel like making a fuss right now,’ Lizzie retorted. ‘A big one.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Sounds interesting.’
She flushed. ‘Not everything has to be—’
‘Oh, but it does,’ he assured her. His eyes danced. She hated how she amused him. It made her feel so little. So unimportant.
‘I may be attracted to you, Cormac,’ she said quietly, her face heating, her heart beating, even though she knew it had to be said. She had to say it. ‘But that’s all it is. And I don’t intend to act upon it.’
‘Are you trying to convince me,’ he murmured, ‘or yourself?’
‘I’m convincing you,’ she snapped.
‘I’m not convinced.’
Suddenly she couldn’t stand his complete arrogance, his unerring belief that she could be so easily known. So easily controlled.
‘Maybe Jan isn’t convinced, either,’ she said recklessly. ‘I could still tell him how you’ve blackmailed me. You waited until I was on the plane before you revealed your plans. I’m your secretary and you intimidated me.’ She widened her eyes, fluttered her eyelashes. ‘I didn’t know what to do, I was so frightened…’ Her voice was a breathy whisper and Cormac’s face hardened, blanked dangerously.
Still, fuelled by a new, heady sense of power, Lizzie continued. ‘Somehow I think a man like him would believe me…empathise with me. Who knows, he might insist my name be kept out of the press! You’d be the only one hurt.’
‘Is that so?’ In one easy movement Cormac grabbed her hands, pulled her to him so her breasts collided with his chest, her thighs melded into his. She could feel every part of him pressed against her, hard against soft, experience matched with innocence.
His fingers laced with hers so that he pulled her even closer. Her breasts were now flattened against his chest, her belly and thighs and everything in between pressed against his. Even in her surprise and alarm, she felt the treacherous stirring of desire.
She’d never been so close to a man before.
She forced herself to meet his eyes—bright, sharp, cruel. He looked down at her, smiled with a parody of tenderness that made Lizzie’s blood freeze.
‘Somehow, sweetheart,’ he whispered, his lips scant inches from hers, his breath feathering her face, ‘I think you’d be the one getting hurt. Don’t think you can play my game. Don’t think you can ever use me.’ His voice was soft. Soft and dangerous. Lizzie tasted fear.
‘But you’re using me,’ she pointed out, her voice shaking. ‘Just like you use everyone.’ She tried to step away from him and, after a moment, his hands still easily encircling her wrists, he released her.
‘Exactly.’ He smiled. ‘Let it go, Chandler. Just enjoy this weekend. I told you, it could be fun. Let’s have fun.’ His voice had turned to a caress, one she shrugged off.
‘Fun? When you’re virtually blackmailing me? You have a sick idea of what fun is, Cormac.’
He slipped his watch on, a tasteful sports design, clearly expensive. ‘Blackmail’s really a bit strong, don’t you think? I might have waited until the plane to inform you of our plans, but you agreed. You said yes.’
‘I never would have, if I’d known—’
‘Known what?’ Cormac took a step towards her. She could smell the cedar tang of his aftershave and tried not to breathe deeply. Even though she wanted to. Even now. ‘Known what there’d be between us? What you’d be tempted to do? To want?’
There was challenge and knowledge in his voice and she didn’t like, either. ‘I’m not going to do anything,’ Lizzie said, her eyes downcast. She wouldn’t look at him. Didn’t want to.
Couldn’t.
‘Good.’ With two lean, strong fingers he touched her chin, tilted it upwards to meet his own mocking gaze. ‘As long as you understand what this is about, Lizzie. It’s not about blackmail. It’s about power. I’m in control, and as long as you realise that, we’re sorted. Understood?’
Impatience and irritation chased across his implacable features and Lizzie was conscious of a hollow, empty sensation, as if all her determination and defiance had leaked out.
It’s about power. His. Only his.
She sagged, and suddenly she didn’t care any more. Didn’t care about the weekend, didn’t care about him.
It was too hard, too tense, too humiliating and too much.
She just wanted this to be over, and it hadn’t even begun.
She jerked her head away from his hand. ‘Understood.’
She knew any threat of resistance or exposure was just that—a threat. Empty. She couldn’t risk the shame and publicity telling the truth would bring. She didn’t dare.
Cormac, she realised, had the power to make her life hell. And Dani’s, too. And he would have no compunction in doing just that.
He might even enjoy it.
She turned to get dressed, stripping off her pyjamas, heedless of Cormac watching. Suddenly it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
Cormac watched her for a moment, the pyjamas slithering to her feet, before he cursed under his breath and thrust her dress into her arms. ‘Go ahead, use the bathroom.’
He turned away and Lizzie watched as he raked a hand through his hair, his back to her.
Bemused, she took her dress and underwear into the bathroom. She needed the space, the privacy, if only for a moment.
Inside the bathroom, she took a deep breath and ran a basin of cold water. Splashing her face, she forced herself to gather her scattered thoughts and concentrate.
She would not let him intimidate or control her. It was so hard—he was hard—but she had to stand up to him. She had to be strong.
