haven’t had the easy-going kind of friendships you’ve made. I rather envy you that.”
It drew a speculative look that Miranda instantly shied away from, not wanting to answer questions about her life. She glanced at her watch. “Better get moving. Are you going to accompany me to the commanded dinner or go over earlier by yourself?”
“I’ll wait for you. I’ll get one of the resort Jeeps and have it out here at seven-fifteen. Okay?”
“Yes. Thanks, Sam.”
“You’ll like Jared,” she remarked, still with that speculative look.
“We’ll see,” Miranda returned non-committally.
It wasn’t Jared on her mind as she headed off to get ready for tonight. It wasn’t Jared or Tommy or Elizabeth King playing havoc with her pulse rate and tying knots in her stomach.
Nathan…his name was like a drumbeat on her heart.
Tonight she would see him again.
And she wanted it to be right.
But how could it be?
It was mad to think it…mad to want it…yet despite every bit of hard, common sense reasoning…there was no denying what she felt.
IT WAS Tommy, not Nathan, who greeted them at the door and ushered them inside. As they moved towards the lounge room, the usual snippy repartee went on between him and Sam but it floated over Miranda’s head. Every nerve in her body was screwed tight, waiting with an excruciating awareness of her own helpless fever-pitch anticipation, to feel whatever she would feel when she came face-to-face with Nathan King again.
Then they entered the room where he had to be…and he wasn’t there. The big black leather armchair where he’d been sitting that first night was unoccupied. Elizabeth King was sitting in her chair. A tall young man—the third brother?—had risen from the nearby chesterfield and was holding his arms out in welcome. No one else was in the room!
Sam rushed forward and into Jared’s offered embrace with all the gusto of an excited puppy, delighted to see a much-missed loved one. While she was being whirled around, admired and kissed, a strange, blank feeling descended on Miranda, stilling all the wild agitation this visit had set in motion.
She wasn’t aware of having come to a dead halt, wasn’t aware of Tommy lingering at her side, wasn’t aware of Elizabeth King watching her. For several empty moments, she didn’t know what she was doing here. The whole focus of her coming was lost. Nathan wasn’t even present.
Then Tommy nudged her elbow, and her mind clicked into a different alert phase. It was Elizabeth King who had commanded her presence and there was another brother to meet. It took a giant effort to recollect herself, to smile at Nathan’s mother, to move forward for the introduction Tommy obviously wanted to make. The older woman, dressed in a pale green shift tonight, and the pearls she seemingly always wore, dipped her head in a gracious acknowledgement.
Miranda had chosen to wear white, wanting Sam to feel she outshone her, which Sam did in a bright blue clingy dress that enhanced the colour of her eyes. Whether Sam’s glamorised appearance had the desired effect on Tommy, Miranda neither knew nor cared at the moment. His voice seemed to boom in her ears, accentuating the hollowness inside her.
“Jared, if you wouldn’t mind freeing yourself from the sex-kitten clinging onto you…”
The man with Sam grinned at him. “Jealous, Tommy?”
“Wait for the claws, little brother. That kitten can deliver lethal scratches.”
“Oh, there are some guys who can make me purr,” Sam tossed at him, purring so exaggeratedly it made both men laugh.
Miranda managed to keep a smile pasted on her face and tried to inject interest into her eyes as Tommy proceeded to present her to his brother.
“This is my resort manager, Miranda Wade. And Sam’s victim for the night is my brother, Jared, the jet setter, who has deigned to touch down with us this weekend.”
“Now, Tommy, you know you wear the title of King of the Air. I’m merely a passenger,” Jared remarked good-humouredly as he offered his hand to Miranda, smiling into her eyes. “I’m delighted to meet you.”
“Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Jared.”
She forced her mind to gather impressions. Of the three sons, he most favoured his mother in looks, the same deep brown eyes, high cheekbones, straight aristocratic nose. His thick black hair dipped over his forehead in an attractive wave, softening what was a rather lean face. He was slightly taller than Tommy, not as tall as Nathan, and his slim physique seemed to carry a whip-chord strength rather than solidly built muscle.
“I hope it will be,” he said, projecting warm friendliness. “Some people find our family a bit daunting en masse. Sam is used to us—” he withdrew his hand and put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a smile and a hug “—virtually grew up with us…”
En masse? The phrase jolted Miranda. Would Nathan be joining them?
Unaccountably her skin began prickling. Her attention drifted from what Jared was saying. As though tugged by some invisible force, her head turned…and he was there, bringing with him a current of energy that blasted everyone else out of Miranda’s consciousness.
Her body instantly reacted to how big he was, how male he was, and a shock wave of memory supplied how he’d felt pressed close to her…the power and the strength of the man tapping on instincts that responded in full flood. An aching weakness spread through her, threatening every bit of composure she’d managed to harness.
She watched his approach with a sense of helpless vulnerability, belatedly realising he was carrying a tray of drinks from an adjoining room and not really targeting her.
“Champagne cocktails for everyone,” he announced, drawing enthusiastic replies from the rest of the party.
Miranda stood dumbly, feeling his deep voice thrum into her bloodstream, kicking her heart into a wild gallop. He made good-humoured comments to everyone as he offered the tray, first to his mother, then to her and Sam. Miranda took a glass before caution could whisper she shouldn’t consume anything so potent as a champagne cocktail. The men took their drinks and Nathan made a toast.
“To a happy evening together.”
Tommy and Jared kept topping that toast in a stream of witty repartee. Sam and Elizabeth King laughed at them. Nathan casually moved aside, placing himself directly in front of Miranda.
“Would you prefer iced water?” he asked. “I’ve just remembered…”
“No, this is fine, thank you,” she rushed out so fast her voice sounded breathless. Her gaze was stuck at the gleaming V of brown flesh revealed by his open-necked shirt. She had to force it up, feeling dreadfully unprotected as the force of his dangerously discerning gaze hit hers. “Drinking a toast with iced water isn’t quite the same, is it?” she said in a more moderate tone.
He smiled. “The choice is yours.”
Her mind seized on his seemingly deliberate use of the word, choice. His smile was inviting, encouraging, or was she so giddy from trying to control her own desires she was misreading his intention?
“This will do for now,” she said, sipping the cocktail gingerly.
“Good! Is the resort working out as you wanted?”
“Everything is running very smoothly at the moment.”
His smile took on an ironic curl. “My mother was extremely vexed I knew nothing to tell her. Tommy, incidentally, gave a glowing report.”