His Wedding-Night Heir Read Online Free PDF Page A

her flush
    with powder. She produced her comb and started to smooth
    her hair. ‘I’m still around.'
    'Put some lippy on,' Tracy suggested.
    'I haven't brought any.' It was a fib, but she hadn't used it
    earlier, and there was no way she wanted to look as if s he'd
    made any kind of effort. It was the kind of feminine detail that
    Nick would notice, she thought, with a pang.
    'Kit thinks we should go and have a quiet drink at the White
    Hart.' Tracy went on. 'Plan our tactics, he says.' She gave
    Cally a straight look. 'You don't think there's much point, do
    you?'
    Cally put her comb in her bag. She said quietly, 'I honestly
    don't know. He could simply have refused to talk to us
    'Well, he's your husband, so you should know,' said Tracy.
    She added, 'And it's not really ' 'us'', at all. It's you— isn't it?'
    And her eyes met Cally's with a question she was unable to
    answer.
    By the time they reached the restaurant Cally was on tenter-
    hooks, totally gripped by tension. The preliminary discussion
    in the pub hadn't got very far, because Kit was clearly upset
    about her concealed marriage and was prepared to be
    resentful, which she regretted.
    She realised, to her shame, that she was hoping against hope
    that Nick would yield to the Hartleys' blandishments.
    You're supposed to be fighting for Gunners Terrace, she re-
    proached herself silently. Balance that against an awkward
    hour or so in your ex-husband's company, and get a grip.
    But Nick was there before them, occupying a comer table—
    the best in the house, naturally— and accompanied by a fair,
    stocky man whom he introduced as Matthew Hendrick, the
    project architect.
    Cally was so determined not to sit next to Nick that she found
    herself placed opposite him instead, which was hardly an
    improvement, she thought, biting her lip with vexation.
    While the menus were handed round, the bread brought and
    the wine poured, she could feel Nick's eyes on her in a cool
    assessment which she could not avoid and he did not even try
    to conceal.
    She could only hope he was thanking his stars for a lucky
    escape, but her intuition warned her that she might be wrong.
    She ate sparingly of the antipasti that formed the first course,
    and only picked at the chicken in its rich wine sauce t hat fol-
    lowed. She tried to fix her mind on the earnest discussion
    going on, primarily between Kit and Matthew Hendrick, while
    Nick watched and listened. This was all that should matter to
    her, she reminded herself. The plight of the residents. The
    need to save the project and continue it. She should be joining
    in here, making her own reasoned contribution, as Tracy was
    doing.
    But she was too aware of the dark man opposite, with the
    cool, contained face. Too conscious of the apprehensive
    thoughts circling in her mind, giving her no peace.
    She refused dessert and coffee, praying inwardly that the party
    would start to break up and she'd finally be let off t he hook.
    But it was a vain hope. ‘Goodnight, Miss Andrews—Mr
    Matlock.' Nick had risen to his feet and was shaking hands.
    'Matthew, I'll meet you on site tomorrow at nine a.m. My wife
    and I are going to stay for a while, and enjoy our reunion.' His
    smile didn't reach his eyes. 'We have a lot of catching up to
    do—don't we, my sweet?'
    Cally's lips parted to utter a startled protest, but she bit back
    the words and sank back in her chair. That same intuit ion told
    her that any resistance on her part would only make her look
    foolish in the end. Far better not to fuss, she thought, but to let
    him think she regarded spending time alone in his company
    with complete indifference.
    But how that was to be achieved she hadn't the faintest idea.
    The others left, and she saw Kit looking frowningly back at
    her. She was almost tempted to call out to him, ask hi m to
    stay, but she knew that wouldn't be fair. She'd enjoyed work-
    ing with Kit, but she would never have wanted more even if
    she'd been free, and she would