One Night in the Orient Read Online Free PDF
Author: Robyn Donald
teens, was also following her progress with too much interest. A spurt of anger took Nick by surprise.
He caught the kid’s eye, and was coldly and foolishly pleased when he flushed and with a bobbing Adam’s apple got busy with the computer. Nick transferred his gaze to two other men. Hastily they abandoned their interested survey and disappeared into the bar.
Satisfied, Nick quelled his cold disapproval and
waited.
CHAPTER THREE
S IENA eyed her blue dress—a little tired after its outing the previous night, but it was all she had. Nick had somehow managed to overcome her instinctive need to hide away like a wounded animal—aided by her realisation that she’d be better off in his powerful, formidable presence than sitting alone in her hotel room wondering why her only two serious relationships had ended with the men she loved—or thought she loved—leaving her.
That bitter feeling of alienation chilled her. She struggled with the impulse to tear off her clothes and crawl into bed. It wouldn’t work—if she knew one thing about Nick it was that he was determined. One way or another, he’d get her out of her room.
Anyway, self-pity was a loser’s indulgence.
But the prospect of eating anything made her feel sick, a nausea that escalated when the lift started to take her down.
When she saw Nick, darkly dominant and looking more than a little grim, she managed a smile. He didn’t return it. Head held high, she parried his keen scrutiny and a strange alteration to her heartbeat transmuted into racing pulses and a moment of lightness, of keen anticipation.
“I only brought one going-out-to-dinner outfit,” she told him. Heavens, was that her voice—husky and almost hesitant?
Get a grip,
she ordered.
“So? You look charming,” he said calmly, and took her arm. “I suppose you travelled with nothing more than hand luggage?”
Rills of sensation ran from his fingers to her spine, spreading out through every cell in a gentle flood. Almost she shivered, and it took a considerable amount of self-control to respond in the easy tone of one old friend to another, “Afraid not. I expected to be here for a week, and as it’s winter on this side of the equator I had to pack warm clothes.
I
don’t have a home in every capital, with wardrobes full of clothes made specially for me.”
“Neither do I,” he said crisply, nodding to the doorman.
“Just about.”
He gave her a saturnine smile. “I own two dwellings.”
“Which one do you call home?”
For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but he said finally, “The one in Auckland.”
Strangely that warmed her as Nick guided her into the waiting car.
Once inside he turned to her. “Apart from your friend’s news, did you have a good day?”
“Most of it was great, thank you.” She made him laugh, relating a small incident in a park involving an elderly dowager and a small child, and slowly her tension subsided.
She even thought bracingly,
I can do this. I can stay in one piece long enough to last out the evening.
Once she got herself onto a plane she could shatter if she needed to. Nobody would know her, so nobody would care if she spent the whole trip in glum silence.
But first she had to get her ticket changed.
Nick said, “I called my PA while you were dressing. There’s a possibility of an immediate trip back to New Zealand. She might ring while we’re having dinner.”
“Oh—Nick, that’s kind of you, but you didn’t need to.” She glanced at his unsmiling face, and ignored a vagrant shiver down her spine when his lashes drooped. “Your poor PA—she’s probably muttering oaths under her breath.”
“I doubt it. She’s paid well, worth every penny, and accustomed to being on call whenever I need her.”
Siena imagined a prim, super-efficient middle-aged woman, silently and hopelessly in love with her employer. “At night?” she asked without trying to hide her scepticism. “Obviously she has no
He caught the kid’s eye, and was coldly and foolishly pleased when he flushed and with a bobbing Adam’s apple got busy with the computer. Nick transferred his gaze to two other men. Hastily they abandoned their interested survey and disappeared into the bar.
Satisfied, Nick quelled his cold disapproval and
waited.
CHAPTER THREE
S IENA eyed her blue dress—a little tired after its outing the previous night, but it was all she had. Nick had somehow managed to overcome her instinctive need to hide away like a wounded animal—aided by her realisation that she’d be better off in his powerful, formidable presence than sitting alone in her hotel room wondering why her only two serious relationships had ended with the men she loved—or thought she loved—leaving her.
That bitter feeling of alienation chilled her. She struggled with the impulse to tear off her clothes and crawl into bed. It wouldn’t work—if she knew one thing about Nick it was that he was determined. One way or another, he’d get her out of her room.
Anyway, self-pity was a loser’s indulgence.
But the prospect of eating anything made her feel sick, a nausea that escalated when the lift started to take her down.
When she saw Nick, darkly dominant and looking more than a little grim, she managed a smile. He didn’t return it. Head held high, she parried his keen scrutiny and a strange alteration to her heartbeat transmuted into racing pulses and a moment of lightness, of keen anticipation.
“I only brought one going-out-to-dinner outfit,” she told him. Heavens, was that her voice—husky and almost hesitant?
Get a grip,
she ordered.
“So? You look charming,” he said calmly, and took her arm. “I suppose you travelled with nothing more than hand luggage?”
Rills of sensation ran from his fingers to her spine, spreading out through every cell in a gentle flood. Almost she shivered, and it took a considerable amount of self-control to respond in the easy tone of one old friend to another, “Afraid not. I expected to be here for a week, and as it’s winter on this side of the equator I had to pack warm clothes.
I
don’t have a home in every capital, with wardrobes full of clothes made specially for me.”
“Neither do I,” he said crisply, nodding to the doorman.
“Just about.”
He gave her a saturnine smile. “I own two dwellings.”
“Which one do you call home?”
For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but he said finally, “The one in Auckland.”
Strangely that warmed her as Nick guided her into the waiting car.
Once inside he turned to her. “Apart from your friend’s news, did you have a good day?”
“Most of it was great, thank you.” She made him laugh, relating a small incident in a park involving an elderly dowager and a small child, and slowly her tension subsided.
She even thought bracingly,
I can do this. I can stay in one piece long enough to last out the evening.
Once she got herself onto a plane she could shatter if she needed to. Nobody would know her, so nobody would care if she spent the whole trip in glum silence.
But first she had to get her ticket changed.
Nick said, “I called my PA while you were dressing. There’s a possibility of an immediate trip back to New Zealand. She might ring while we’re having dinner.”
“Oh—Nick, that’s kind of you, but you didn’t need to.” She glanced at his unsmiling face, and ignored a vagrant shiver down her spine when his lashes drooped. “Your poor PA—she’s probably muttering oaths under her breath.”
“I doubt it. She’s paid well, worth every penny, and accustomed to being on call whenever I need her.”
Siena imagined a prim, super-efficient middle-aged woman, silently and hopelessly in love with her employer. “At night?” she asked without trying to hide her scepticism. “Obviously she has no