Page 22 of The Tycoon's Ultimate Conquest
‘You’re very optimistic if you think that a company the size of DC Logistics would be interested in anything other than steamrollering over us. We’re fighting fire with fire and if we lose...then we can make sure that life isn’t easy for them as they go ahead with their conscienceless development.’
‘Or you could try another tack. Apparently the local school could do with a lot of refurbishment. The sports ground is in dire need of repair. One section of the building that was damaged by fire last year is still out of bounds. Frankly, that’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. Ever thought that instead of threatening a company that has deeds to the land, you could always coerce them into doing their bit for the community?’
‘You’ve certainly been digging deep.’ Rose sat back and looked at Art. ‘Have you been discussing this alternative with my protestors?’
‘They’re notyourprotestors,’ he fielded coolly, meeting her gaze without blinking. ‘If you have deeper, more personal reasons for your fight, then they don’t necessarily share those reasons. They might be open to other ways of dealing with the situation.’
Wine was being brought to the table. He waited until the waiter had poured them both a glass then he raised his.
‘But enough of this. We’re not here to talk about the land, are we? That said...it’s just something you might want to think about.’
CHAPTER FIVE
ITWASTHEbest meal she had ever had in her life although, as she reluctantly left a morsel of thecrème bruléein its dish because she physically couldn’t manage another mouthful, Rose had to admit that it was much more than the quality of the food that had made the evening quite perfect.
It was the fact that she was here with Arturo.
They had not had an opportunity to talk, to really talk, since he had moved in and for four hours they more than made up for that. He was fascinating. He knewso much.He could converse with ease on any topic and he had a wonderful knack of drawing her out of herself, making her open up in a way that revealed to her just how private she had become over the years.
He could be self-deprecating one minute and, almost without pausing to draw breath, ruin the illusion by being astoundingly arrogant—but arrogant in a way that somehow didn’t manage to get on her nerves. She couldn’t understand how that was in any way, shape or form possible...but it clearly was.
And he’d made her think—about the protest and other ways that might be found to bring about a positive outcome. He had touched only once more on the subject and the notion of inevitability had been aired—yes, it was inevitable that the land would be developed, but that suggestion he had planted in her head was beginning to look quite promising. She had certain trump cards and there was much that could be done to improve the village.
She was tipsy and happy as they stepped out into the velvety black night.
‘I haven’t had such a lovely time in ages,’ she confided as a taxi pulled to a stop as soon as they were outside. She waited until he was in the back seat with her before turning to him. The darkness turned his face into a mosaic of hard shadows and angles and, just for a few seconds, she felt a tingle of apprehension that warred with the warm, melting feeling making her limbs heavy and pleasantly blurring her thoughts.
She was smiling—grinning like a Cheshire cat—but he was quite serious as he looked at her.
‘You look as though you can’t wait for the evening to end,’ she said lightly, sobering up, smile wavering. ‘Don’t blame you. You must be accustomed to far more exciting company than me.’
* * *
Looking back at her, Art thought that she couldn’t have been further from the truth. He hadn’t sat and talked with any woman for that length of time for years. In the normal course of events, an expensive meal would have included some light conversation but the evening would have been overlaid with the assumption of sex and the conversation would have been geared towards that.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Something about you,’ Rose admitted truthfully. ‘You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before and if I can see that, then so can everyone else. You strike me as the sort of guy who’s never short of female company. Is that why you steer clear of involvement? Because you don’t see the point of settling down when there are so many fish in the sea?’
‘I steer clear of involvement because I watched my father ruined by too much of it.’
‘Oh.’ Rose paused. ‘How so?’ she asked seriously.
Art had surprised himself by that admission and now he wondered what to say. A series of divorces? A carousel of avaricious blonde bombshells who had been out to feather their own nests? A fortune depleted by the demands of alimony payments? Where to start?
Art had been defined by one disillusionment after another, from the isolation he had had to endure as a child when his father had retreated into himself after his wife’s sudden death to the abruptness of having to deal with boarding school, and all played out to the steady drumbeat of his father’s failed relationships and the consequent, expensive fallout.
He shifted, stared briefly out of the window then back at her. Her gaze was calm, interested but without fuss and fanfare—curious but not overly so.
‘My father had a habit of repeating his mistakes,’ Art told her heavily. ‘He was always quick to get involved, only to regret his involvement but then, just when he’d managed to free himself from one woman, he would repeat the cycle all over again. Your mother had her way of coping with losing her husband...’ His mouth twisted into a crooked smile. ‘My father coped in a slightly different way.’
‘But in a way that would have equally damaging consequences... We certainly didn’t strike jackpot when it came to childhood experiences, did we?’ She shot him a rueful smile and reached out, almost impulsively, to rest her hand on his.
The warmth of her hand zapped through him like a powerful electric charge, tightening his groin and sending a heavy, pounding ache between his thighs.
With relief, he recognised that the taxi was pulling up outside her house.
He was in urgent need of a cold shower. Maybe even a cold bath. Blocks of ice would have to play a part. Anything to cool the onset of his ardour.
