A Rich Man's Whim(47)
‘What are you thinking about?’ Kat prompted, having noted the grim set of his strong jawline and the flinty hardness of his eyes as he gazed out to sea. ‘You look angry.’
‘Why would I be angry?’ Mikhail enquired, irritated that she watched him so closely and read him so accurately. She got under his skin in some way and wrecked his self-control. Only a few hours had passed since he had forgotten to use a condom for the first time in his life but that single little instant of shocking forgetfulness had shattered his equilibrium. How could any woman excite him that much? He needed a little distance from her; he needed to send her home for his own peace of mind.
‘I don’t know but you certainly don’t look happy,’ Kat remarked gingerly, picking up on his irritation as well. She would never work out what made Mikhail tick. She did recognise that he had a dark side, a core he never exposed, but he was not, as a rule, moody or bad-tempered. Quick-tempered, yes, bad-tempered, no.
‘I’m fine,’ Mikhail insisted while mentally engaged in drawing up a list of what he didn’t like about Kat. She asked awkward questions and refused to back off even when he made his dissatisfaction clear. She snuggled up to him in bed, which was actually rather endearing, he conceded grudgingly. He might not be a touchy-feely kind of guy, but he did not find the natural warmth and affection she showed him objectionable in any way. On the other hand, she liked the shower a lot hotter than he did and also liked to eat disgustingly sweet things—were those flaws too petty to consider? Since when had he been petty? Since when had he had to think of reasons why he should ditch a woman? He would buy her a fabulous jewel to show his appreciation. He dug out his mobile phone to make the arrangements.
Kat sighed the minute she saw the phone in his lean hand. ‘Is that call really necessary?’ she asked gently.
Recognising the reproof for what it was, Mikhail ground his teeth together and added another score to her tally of flaws. ‘Da … it is.’
Kat nodded, wishing his mind weren’t always one hundred per cent focused on business. Was it naive of her to have hoped that he would let his guard down a little on her last day and engage in meaningful conversation? Mentally she winced at that pathetic hope. Had she really thought Mikhail might come over all romantic and tell her that he wanted her to extend her stay? What a silly dream that would be for her to cherish when she badly needed to go home and pack up her belongings in the farmhouse! After all, Emmie had already established that a little terraced house in the village would soon be available for rent. It wasn’t like Kat to be so impractical and it was past time that she told Mikhail what she had decided about Birkside. She studied his bold bronzed profile while he talked on his phone and her eyes warmed, any prospect of practicality draining away. She adored those eyelashes, thick as fly swats, the only softening element in his lean dark face. But there was more to her feelings than the fact that he was an incredibly handsome man and a breathtakingly passionate and exciting lover. She loved his strong work ethic, his open-handed generosity for the right charitable cause, his bluntness, his essentially liberal outlook.
‘We have something to talk about,’ Kat said stiffly.
‘We can talk when we get back on board,’ Mikhail murmured abstractedly as he dug his phone back in his pocket.
‘You want to leave already? You haven’t even touched your coffee yet,’ Kat pointed out.
‘There’s a chip in the cup,’ Mikhail informed her drily. ‘I don’t do ordinary very well … I’m sorry.’
In a forgiving mood, Kat shrugged a narrow shoulder. ‘That’s OK. You’re not on trial. I do need to talk about that legal agreement we made though—’
Mikhail frowned. ‘That’s water under the bridge—’
‘No, it’s not. I can’t accept the house from you now,’ she said with a tight little grimace of discomfiture. ‘In the circumstances it would feel too much like payment for services rendered in the bedroom.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Mikhail told her bluntly. ‘I offered the house and you accepted it—it’s a done deal.’
‘I haven’t accepted it and I’m not going to,’ Kat protested stubbornly. ‘The house is worth thousands and thousands of pounds and far too big a payment for the amount of hostessing I’ve done for you.’
‘That’s my decision, not yours,’ Mikhail traded curtly, dark eyes now cool as rain on her sun-warmed skin; indeed she actually felt physically chilled by that look.