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That wouldn⬠"!t be Joe. It just wouldn⬠"!t.
A waiter brought their coffees and placed them on the low table between them.
Though who ever knew they had a weakness until opportunity crossed their path? A sickening thought crept up on her. Maybe the addiction had
already claimed him. Wouldn⬠"!t that explain the entire trip?
⬠ÜWell, out with it,⬠"! Joe said, replacing his wallet after slipping the man a note. ⬠ÜI⬠"!m sure you have an opinion.⬠"!
Mirandi glanced up warily from stirring her coffee. ⬠ÜAbout what?⬠"!
⬠ÜYou know what.⬠"!
She raised the cup to her lips and sipped the creamy brew, then glanced across at him. His expression was apparently relaxed, but his black
brows were drawn over his alert blue eyes and there was a curious tension in his frame, as if the fate of the world suddenly hung on her reply.
What could she say? Don⬠"!t risk it, Joe? Turn away from temptation before it sucks you in like quicksand?
She gave a shrug. ⬠ÜThe hotel is fabulous, my room is a dream. I have a lovely dress to wear tonight and another one tomorrow night. I⬠"!m jet-
lagged and a little tired and would appreciate a long hot soak in that tub upstairs, but you⬠"!re the boss. If you say I have to spend my time on the Côte
d⬠"!Azur in a conference about gaming, then that⬠"!s what I⬠"!ll do.⬠"!
His mouth tightened. ⬠ÜI get it. You disapprove, but you⬠"!re just following orders.⬠"!
She blinked, startled. ⬠ÜWhat do you want me to say?⬠"!
Anger flashed from his eyes. ⬠ÜBe honest. Say what you think.⬠"!
Hot words rushed to her tongue but she bit them back. ⬠ÜI⬠"!m a market analyst for an investment company, remember? Too much sensibility is
a handicap for the likes of me.⬠"!
⬠ÜThat⬠"!s no answer and you know it. It⬠"!s a cop-out.⬠"!
The unexpected emotional undertow was dragging her towards saying some things she might regret. But she held her cup tight and kept her voice
cool. ⬠ÜIf you⬠"!re planning on investing in a casino I⬠"!m sure it will be very lucrative. I⬠"!m not your conscience.⬠"!
⬠ÜGood,⬠"! he said curtly, rising to his feet. He pointed a warning finger. ⬠ÜJust you remember that.⬠"!
But⬠¦but⬠¦what had she said? Her head swirling with bewilderment and annoyance, she followed him back inside.
⬠ÜWell, anyway,⬠"! she said, hurrying to keep up with him as he strode towards the lift. ⬠ÜThousands of people go to casinos every day without
coming to any harm. Millions. People are free to choose their style of entertainment. If rich people want to play games with their money⬠¦â¬ "!
He halted and turned fiercely on her, grabbing her arm. ⬠ÜDon⬠"!t say that to me. Don⬠"!t ever⬠¦â¬ "! His face twisted and she was shaken
by a bolt of utter shock. He must have seen it because he released her arm and brought his momentary loss of cool under control. ⬠ÜSorry. I⬠"!m sorry.
But⬠ don⬠"!t try preaching morality as per the blessed Reverend Summers at me, either. I⬠"!m here to make a reasoned decision. You⬠"!re here
as an MA, so stay out of it.⬠"!
She blinked. ⬠ÜBut what have I said? All I said was⬠¦ You asked me⬠¦â¬ "!
He made a stern silencing gesture.
Fuming, she folded her arms and turned her back on him on the ride up in the lift. Fine, not another word on the subject would cross her lips. If his
conscience was so tender, let him deal with it on his own.
Not surprisingly, the conference sessions were an endurance. With Joe so apparently angry with her for no good reason, she felt too resentful to
care if he gleaned any useful information from the various speakers with all their videos and graphs and risk projections. She listened to it all on one level
and brooded on another.
Every so often she felt his eyes flick to her as if attempting to penetrate her reactions to the topics under discussion. Things about profit. Loss.
Public relations. She refused to help him out. If he didn⬠"!t know what she really thought of it all, then he didn⬠"!t know Mirandi Summers.
He didn⬠"!t recover his good humour. During the lunch break, while other delegates took the opportunity to meet each other and engage in
civilised conversation on the terrace, he leaned up against the stonework looking like a thundercloud, his arms folded across his chest.
She supposed it didn⬠"!t help that the roof of the casino was visible through the shrubbery, the dome and spires of the fanciful Belle Epoque
extravaganza drawing admiring comments from the gathering. Luring them there.
Joe remained silent. She attempted conversation a few times but he was as impenetrable as a wall and she gave up. She⬠"!d have had no one
to talk to at all if a pleasant American man hadn⬠"!t started up a conversation with her when she sashayed over for a refill of her coffee.
He introduced himself as Louis. He was from Chicago. A lawyer, he told her in his charming American drawl. He looked smooth and clever and
had twinkling dark eyes and a way of looking at a woman as if she were the only person in the world. In truth, he seemed quite intrigued by her accent.
Naturally she warmed to him. She might have laughed once or twice at some of the teasing things he said about Aussies, because once she
glanced over at Joe and was nearly electrocuted by his forbidding blue glare.
The sheer nerve of the guy. He wouldn⬠"!t talk to her himself, but he didn⬠"!t want her to chat with anyone else.
It was a relief to meet such an uncomplicated, friendly guy as Louis. She turned her back on Joe Sinclair, though her insides were churning with [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]