Every Breath You Take Read Online Free PDF Page B

Mitchell thought drily. He was a new stud being led into the stable—and a thoroughbred, too, if he was a Wyatt. As a potential lover, being a thoroughbred made him so much more desirable than the usual tennis instructor, physical trainer, or penniless artist.
    He’d been playing in the big leagues, with people like these, forever—he knew all the games that were played and how to play them. He also knew how to win them. He was neither proud nor ashamed of his past successes, nor interested in trying to repeat them. In fact, his only reaction to the roomful of women who were currently looking him over was a sense of relief that Olivia was too old-fashioned to imagine what some of them were thinking.
    She squeezed his arm to get his attention, and Mitchell tipped his head toward her. “I know what the ladies are thinking,” she informed him.
    Startled, Mitchell said warily, “You do?”
    She wagged her head in affirmation and dropped her voice to a happy whisper. “They’re thinking you’re a dreamboat!”
    Henry Bartlett didn’t think Mitchell was a dreamboat, Henry Bartlett knew
exactly
what Mitchell Wyatt was, and Henry Bartlett wanted Mitchell to know that. When Olivia said, “Henry, you’ve met Mitchell, haven’t you?” just as Cecil had instructed her to do, Bartlett’s frosty smile became a smirk.
    “Yes,” he replied, crudely putting his right hand in his pocket instead of extending it to Mitchell. “When we met, however, Mitchell was a lot smaller.”
    His unexpected answer threw Olivia into total confusion.“Henry,” she said, “you must be thinking of someone else. You didn’t know Mitchell when he was small—”
    “I think Henry is right,” Mitchell interrupted, directing his reply to Olivia while staring dispassionately at Bartlett. “In fact, I’ll bet Henry took me for my first plane ride.”
    “I took you
to
it, not on it.”
    “Mitchell has a plane of his own now,” Olivia put in smoothly, giving Mitchell the distinct impression that she didn’t understand anything Henry had said, but that she was aware of the undertones, and she didn’t like them. She turned to Bartlett’s son and said, “Mitchell, this is Evan Bartlett, Henry’s son.” Then she realized her mistake and awkwardly added, “You remember Evan, don’t you—”
    “We’ve never met,” Mitchell said bluntly, and her fingers flew nervously to the strand of pearls at her throat.
    Evan Bartlett had better manners than his father. He shook hands with Mitchell, asked no probing questions, and adroitly used the topic of private planes to start a conversation. “We’ve been looking at a two-year-old Gulfstream G-3 for our firm. Flying on commercial airlines has become such a hassle and so time-consuming that we’re at the point where it’s becoming cost-effective for us to own our own jet.”
    Mitchell unjustly retaliated against Henry by letting his son flounder. Instead of replying, Mitchell lifted his brows and said nothing.
    “The problem is,” Evan said after an awkward pause, “it’s hard to justify the price of the G-3 when a Lear would get us where we need to go just as well.”
    “But not as comfortably,” Mitchell said finally.
    “Right. Of course, if comfort and luxury were all that counted—and money was absolutely no issue—the G-5 is the only plane to own. God, that’s a beautiful bird. Ilust after that thing every time I see one on a runway. It’s as exciting to look at as a beautiful woman. Have you ever been inside one?”
    Mitchell presumed he was referring to the plane, not a woman. If Olivia hadn’t been there, he’d have asked for clarification just to entertain himself with Evan’s reaction. Since she was there, he said only, “Yes.”
    “So what kind of plane do you have?” Evan persisted.
    “A G-5.”
    Olivia emitted a snort of mirth and then looked horrified. “Mitchell is going to Anguilla in two weeks,” she burst out. “You go down there quite often, don’t you,