knew, he was staying home from golf, just so that he could be here when she arrived. He’d made the excuse that he needed to talk to her about her inheritance, when in fact what he’d wanted most was to question her about the new man in her life.
Finding out that she was madly in love with this Derek didn’t do his jealousy any good. OK, so on the surface he’d managed to control himself around Sarah. He gave himself full marks for not kissing her when he’d had the chance yesterday afternoon.
But he’d given in to temptation over those diamond earrings, hadn’t he? Spent a small fortune on them, with the full intention of letting dear Derek know who’d bought them for her.
The truth was Nick had behaved badly every time Sarah brought home a boyfriend. He’d always pretended to himself that he was only doing what Ray had asked him to do, justifying his actions with the excuse that he was protecting her from fortune-hunters.
But that was actually far from the truth. None of those poor boys in the past had been gold-diggers. How could they be, when Sarah had never told anyone she was an heiress? They’d just been young men who’d had the good fortune—or was it misfortune?—to be where Nick had always wanted to be.
With Sarah.
The savage satisfaction he’d experienced every time he broke up one of her relationships showed just what kind of man he was: rotten to the core and wickedly selfish.
What would he do this time? he wondered grimly as he mounted the top landing and gazed down the hallway towards Sarah’s bedroom.
Nothing, he hoped. The same way he’d done nothing yesterday when she’d been in his arms. He’d wanted to kiss her. Hell, he’d ached to kiss her.
But what would that have achieved, except make her look at him not with adoration as she’d once done, but with disgust? Sarah had finally fallen in love; possibly she was on the verge of having what she’d always wanted: marriage and children.
If this Derek was a decent fellow, then it would be cruel and callous to try to put doubts in Sarah’s head about him.
Yet he wanted to…
Still, wanting to do something and actually doing it were two entirely different things. He’d wanted to seduce Sarah for years, but he hadn’t, had he?
Nick shook his head agitatedly as he forged on across the carpeted landing into the master bedroom. It wasn’t till he shut the door behind him that his mind shifted from his immediate problem with Sarah to another problem he would have to face in the near future.
Come February, he had to leave this house.
It would be a terrible wrench, Nick knew. He’d grown very attached to the place, and the people in it. He could not imagine coming home to any other house, or any other bedroom.
Strange, really. Eight years ago, after Ray died and Nick moved into the house, he hadn’t much liked this bedroom.
Ray had gone Japanese-mad after his trip to Tokyo; the gardens hadn’t been the only thing around Goldmine to be changed: the master-bedroom suite had been totally gutted, its walls painted white, the plush gold carpet ripped out and polished floorboards laid. The heavy mahogany bedroom suite had been given to charity, to be replaced by black lacquered Japanese-style furniture. The king-sized bed was now large and low, the duvet and pillows covered in scarlet silk with sprays of flowers at their corners.
Other than two matching black lacquered bedside tables, there’d been no furniture in the room, the walk-in wardrobe being spacious enough to accommodate all Ray’s clothes.
The bathroom had been changed with an all-white suite during this refurbishment, enlarged as well to accommodate a huge spa bath that you could practically swim in.
Nick liked the bathroom, but had found the bedroom rather stark, and not evocative of the atmosphere he wanted his bachelor boudoir to evoke. So he’d bought three fluffy white rugs to surround the bed, and some white cane chairs for the corners. A huge plasma television now hung on the wall opposite the bed with access to every satellite television channel available. Black silk sheets were his final purchases, along with some new shades for the chrome-based bedside lamps: red, of course.
The effect at night was erotic and sensual.
When in his bedroom, Nick didn’t pretend to be anything but what he was: a very sensual man.
Which made his actions last night after the party almost incomprehensible.
Why, when he’d taken Chloe home, hadn’t he gone inside and made mad, passionate love to her? She’d been all over him like a rash at the door. Normally, he loved it when she was sexually aggressive, loved it that he didn’t have to be gentle with her. At any other time, he would have pushed her inside and had her up against the wall.
Instead her rapacious mouth had repelled him for some reason, and he found himself telling her he had a headache. A headache, for pity’s sake!
Chloe had been surprised, but reasonably understanding, sending him off with a kiss on the cheek and the advice to have a good night’s sleep.
‘You won’t get off so easily tomorrow night,’ she’d added as he walked back to his car.
Nick hadn’t gone straight home. He’d driven round and round, trying to work out why he wasn’t in Chloe’s bed right at that moment, sating his desires to a degree where he wouldn’t be capable of feeling any lust for anyone!
Then, when he’d finally come home, he’d fallen into a fitful sleep, his dreams filled with disturbingly erotic images involving the bane of his life. In one dream, Sarah had come down to the Christmas lunch wearing that minute bikini that had tormented him all those years ago. In another, she had been decorating that damned Christmas tree in the nude. In yet another, she’d been in his arms and he was kissing her the way he’d wanted to kiss her yesterday.
He’d woken from that dream incredibly aroused.
When Flora had sent him into Sarah’s bedroom to wake her this morning, he’d stared down at her sleeping form for longer than was decent, the dungeon door in his mind well and truly open. Then, when she’d waltzed down to present-giving in that sexy little nightie, he’d been consumed with a desire so strong it had taken every ounce of his will-power to keep himself in check.
Her giving him that exquisite and very expensive miniature golf set had tormented him further, giving rise to the provocative possibility that, despite her new boyfriend, she still secretly fancied him. But her rather offhand words that her present was a parting gift of gratitude had propelled Nick back to cold, hard reality.
Sarah was well and truly over her schoolgirl crush on him. He’d lost his chance with her, if he’d ever had one.
It was this last thought that was bothering him the most.
‘You should be glad she’s over you,’ he muttered as he marched towards the bathroom, stripping off his T-shirt as he went. ‘Now all you have to do is concentrate on getting through today without behaving badly.’
Nick wrenched off his jeans, before walking over to snap on the water in the shower.
‘No sarcastic remarks,’ he lectured himself as he stepped under the ice-cold spray. ‘No telling Derek you bought his girlfriend thirty-thousand-dollar earrings. And definitely no looking, no matter what she wears!’
‘LET’S go, Sarah.’
Nick’s loud command—called through her bedroom door—was accompanied by an impatient knocking.
Sarah’s bedside clock showed it was three minutes to twelve, two minutes after Nick had asked her to be downstairs.
‘Coming,’ Sarah called back after one last nervous glance in her dressing-table mirror.
She