Australia: In Bed with a King: The Cattle King's Mistress

They proceeded up the steps, Miranda wondering just how different the two brothers were and how much their mother had to work at welding their separate in-terests into a reasonably harmonious unit. “Isn’t there a third son?” she asked tentatively, her mind seeing three names listed in print—Nathan, Thomas, Jared.

But the book on King’s Eden had been written some years ago. She had assumed marriages would have taken place since then. Having been wrong on that score with Tommy and Nathan, and with no mention being made of a younger brother from Tommy, she wondered if something had happened to the third son.

“Oh, Jared flits around the mining operations and oversees what’s done with the pearls. He’s hardly ever here,” came the offhand reply. “You’ll probably meet him some time or other but not tonight. I think he’s in Hong Kong at the moment.”

Mining operations…

Miranda did a very quick mental readjustment about the King family. What she was meeting here was very serious wealth, on a similar scale, if not higher, than the Hewson family. All three of the King brothers would be used to getting what they wanted, just as Bobby was. When they married, it would undoubtedly be into a family who had connections to their business interests and could probably broaden and enhance them. That was the way their kind of world worked.

She was an outsider, an employee who had her uses. Miranda resolved to keep those uses strictly defined. No blurred lines. However attractive any of the King men were, they were out of bounds in any personal sense.

She would never allow herself to be flattered by Tommy’s show of interest. If Nathan had a brick wall around him, it could stay totally intact, as far as she was concerned. Jared was more or less out of the picture so she didn’t have the problem of proximity with him.

Best to concentrate completely on Elizabeth King tonight.

With this decision firmly settled in her mind, Miranda’s attention turned to observing features of the house she was entering. Leadlight windows surrounded the solid cedar door Tommy opened for her. As she stepped into the main entrance hall, she realised it ran right through to the back of the house and actually formed a gallery of framed photographs. A collection of King’s Eden history, she wondered, but didn’t have the opportunity to look.

Tommy walked straight to the first door off the hallway and ushered her into a sitting room so full of riches, she was momentarily dazed by all there was to see. Much of the decor had an Asian influence, yet there seemed be an eclectic range of styles that somehow melded together into a fascinating collection.

Her skating gaze was halted—joltingly—by the man rising from a large leather armchair, a man whose length seemed to climb up like a mountain, blocking everything else out. He had to be well over six foot, broad-shouldered, broad-chested, one of the biggest men Miranda had ever met, and all of him emitting hard muscular strength that gave way to nothing.

Unaccountably a convulsive little shiver ran down her spine. His sheer physical presence had an impact that seemed to hit her whole nervous system, leaving her with an odd tremulous feeling that was deeply disturbing. He wasn’t threatening her. He stood out of courtesy. She had no cause to feel…vulnerable.

With a sense of self-determination, Miranda made eye contact with him and plastered a polite little smile on her face. His face could have been carved out of brown granite—all hard, sharp planes. Even the curves of his mouth seemed carved, defined emphatically, as though to deny any softness. Absolutely nothing “pretty-playboy” about Nathan King.

His thick black hair was straight. His black brows were straight. And cutting straight across the room at her were laser-sharp blue eyes, the vivid intensity of their colour made all the more stunning by his darkly tanned skin. Miranda felt utterly pinned by them, unable to break their captivating power…until Elizabeth King spoke.

“Welcome to King’s Eden…”

Miranda jerked her head towards the distinctive, familiar voice. The woman who had hired her sat on an ornately carved armchair, its rich scarlet and gold silk upholstery forming a striking frame for her white hair and white pantsuit. And the beautiful pearls around her neck.

“It’s both a pleasure and a privilege to be here, Mrs King,” Miranda managed to reply with creditable aplomb. “Thank you for inviting me.”

The older woman was smiling, her dark eyes warm with some private satisfaction. She waved attention back to her son. “This is Nathan, who has the controlling hand on the station. Miranda Wade, Nathan, our new resort manager.”

He remained precisely where he was, sizing her up, silent, formidable, daunting, challenging. For a moment, Miranda remained pinned, but the long years of training for greeting people urged her forward. Taking the initiative always broke the ice. She had to associate with this man, when business required his co-operation. Some kind of reasonable footing with him had to be developed.

Yet all the stern reasoning in her mind had no strengthening effect on her legs. They were alarmingly shaky as she stepped forward to offer her hand to Nathan King. This was a man who would dominate everything he touched…and she was about to touch him.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_a4d43c27-91b0-5a33-93be-4a90f55cc8df)

NATHAN was stunned. He’d seen many beautiful women but none quite as striking as this one. From head to foot she was something else…built on a scale that accentuated every womanly asset. And she certainly had them all!

She almost matched Tommy in height, which had to put her close to six feet tall and she wasn’t wearing high heels. Her hair was an instant tactile temptation, a softly curved fall to her shoulders, gleaming with a fascinating blend of blonde shades from silver to strawberry.

The classical perfection of her face was made even more intriguing by the slight cleft at the centre of her chinline, and the long neck below it promised an alluring suppleness. Her honey-gold skin glowed—face, arms, legs—all bare, and her limbs were as perfectly proportioned as her face.

She wore a rather high-necked, sleeveless dress that skimmed her lushly curved figure, the skirt flaring to just above her knees, a modest dress but boldly coloured in an abstract floral pattern on black. Splotches of lemon, orange, lime green, turquoise, royal blue seemed to leap off the black background, a dazzling kaleidoscope of colour. On her feet were strappy lemon sandals.

A very confident woman, Nathan thought, prepared to stand out rather than blend in. A strong individual. Certainly no shy violet or clinging vine. A long dormant excitement began to stir in him. This might be a woman worth knowing…an experience worth having.

The visual pleasure of her was too enticing to give up. He stayed where he stood, letting her move forward to formalise his mother’s introduction. Lovely, almond-shaped, green eyes, as uniquely distinctive as the rest of her. Honey-brown lashes and brows. Was the hair-colour natural?

“I’m delighted to meet you, Mr King,” she said with cool deliberation as she held out her hand.

Establishing impersonal distance.

Nathan barely stopped himself from grinning at the implicit challenge as he gripped her hand, enfolding it in his own, liking the soft, silky warmth of it. His smile was controlled into a mere expression of friendly acknowledgement. Playing the stand-offish game suited him just as well, while he took her measure.

“Even the children on the station call me Nathan, so please feel comfortable with it,” he assured her. “And since the resort also operates on a first name basis, I trust I may call you Miranda.”

“Of course,” she answered smoothly, starting to extract her hand.

Nathan did not resist the movement, finding it interesting she felt the need to break the physical link with him so quickly. It wasn’t exactly a rude rejection of contact, more a discomfort with it. Did she sense what she was stirring in him? Was she stirred herself? Her eyes reflected no more than the obliging interest of an employee to an employer, not so much as a hint of speculation on a woman to man basis.

His mother’s words came back to him…I doubt Miranda Wade would be inclined to cling to any man’s hand.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked, wondering if she was a raging feminist. “My mother’s having champagne…”

“A glass of water would be fine,” she quickly interposed.

Keeping a cool head, Nathan thought as he nodded and disconnected himself from her by turning to his brother. “A beer for you, Tommy?”

“Thanks, Nathan,” came the ready agreement.

He left them to sort out seating while he got the drinks from the bar in the adjoining billiard room. Miranda Wade was not a woman to be rushed. That much was obvious. He had the impression there were many layers to her, not an easy woman to tag in any sense.

He wondered how Tommy was faring with her. His brother had spent most of the day in her company. Had he managed to draw any sparks of interest? Resolving to simply sit and watch the interplay between them, Nathan returned with the drinks, ironically amused at the way this meeting was turning out. His annoyance with his mother’s decision had winked out the moment Miranda Wade had appeared in person.

She’d chosen to sit in an armchair close to his mother, right across the room from where he’d been seated. Tommy bridged the gap, having dropped onto a sofa that could have invited sharing, but that option had not been taken up by the fair Miranda. She nodded to a drink coaster on the small table beside her as Nathan approached and gave him a flashing smile of acknowledgement when he set the glass down where she’d indicated.

“Thank you,” she said, breaking briefly from her conversation with his mother, then instantly resuming it.

Done with grace, but holding him at a very firm distance, Nathan observed. He didn’t linger, didn’t attempt to draw her attention. A two-year contract gave him plenty of time to make her acquaintance. He strolled over to Tommy and handed him the beer.

“Happy with the choice?” he asked quietly, watching for any reservation in his brother’s expressive eyes.

“Are you?” Tommy retorted, mischief dancing.

Nathan shrugged. “Your business, Tommy.”

“An asset, I think.” Definitely male appreciation in the gaze he slanted at Miranda. However his mouth made a wry little moue as he added, “Mind very focused on the job.”

“Glad to hear it,” Nathan murmured and moved back to his chair, content with the confirmation that his brother’s charm had failed to evoke the usual response.

This now promised to be a most interesting evening. Didn’t feminists preach wanting men, not needing them? Sexual freedom? Taking as they pleased? What if Miranda Wade wanted what he wanted?

Miranda was grateful the meal had been easy to eat—prawns cooked with coconut and served with a mango sauce, followed by barramundi, and now a melt-in-the-mouth passion-fruit mousse. Dining with the Kings was certainly a testing experience, but she thought she’d managed the evening reasonably well, given the unnerving presence of the man at the head of the table.