The Mistresses Collection. Оливия Гейтс

park.’

      The taxi driver pulled out into the traffic.

      ‘James.’

      Uh-oh, he didn’t like the edge in her voice. He glanced across and saw her gnawing the edge of her lip. ‘Problem?’

      She nodded. ‘Money. Paying for this.’

      He drew a breath and lied. ‘The cab is free, right?’ he called to the driver.

      ‘Absolutely. I owe you,’ he answered.

      Good thing James had briefed him and already paid for the full day’s driving.

      James felt Caitlin’s unrelenting gaze on him. To his astonishment he felt a flush mount in his own cheeks—probably deep enough to match hers.

      Yeah, she knew it was a set-up. But she said nothing. James quickly leaned forward and pointed past her, out of her window. ‘Look, you can just see the Chrysler through there.’

      He knew distraction would get him only so far with her. He knew he was spoilt. It was pure luck he’d been born into an extremely wealthy family. Hell, he donated almost his entire salary to charity because he already had enough income from his trust fund. He didn’t need to work a day in his life, not for money. But for sanity? For self-worth? For dignity? He’d work every hour he could. Usually he took care not to flash his funds around the guys he worked with. Certainly not around the people who’d more often than not just lost everything.

      But he wanted to take Caitlin out. The money, the offer, meant nothing to him. Yet meant all the wrong things to her. He knew she wouldn’t accept because she was proud enough to want to go Dutch and couldn’t afford it. So he was going to have to improvise. Fortunately, he knew where he could find some really good guidebooks.

      And he’d show her New York.

      ‘You want to get an idea of where things are,’ he said as the car cruised along with the traffic. ‘How the city works, in terms of design.’ If she designed costumes, he figured she’d be interested in other aspects of design too. ‘I have a plan for sustained sightseeing.’

      ‘Oh, you do?’

      ‘Uh-huh.’ He nodded sagely. ‘You don’t want to cram too much into one day. You have the benefit of a whole month in New York—you can afford to take your time, get to some of the things that aren’t on the usual lists, spend longer in some of the great places.’

      ‘Okay.’

      He grinned; he had her interest. ‘So the rough daily plan is a gallery, a park, a place.’

      ‘Daily plan?’ she giggled. ‘Like this is some sightseeing diet?’

      ‘Feast,’ he corrected in all seriousness. ‘I’m assuming you’re into galleries, right? Museums? Places to soak up inspiration?’

      Her face lit up. ‘Yes, please.’

      ‘Then a park—some fresh air. A bit of a stretch, some greenery. And then a place.’

      ‘A place?’

      ‘Like a building, or another kind of attraction. Maybe something historical, whatever. Like Liberty. Sound good?’

      ‘Sure. I’m happy to be in your hands,’ she turned her head towards him and cooed.

      Tease.

      ‘All right, let’s head to our gallery for today.’ He had to get out of the car before he hauled her across his lap and showed her what he really thought of the no-PDA idea. ‘The Met. You okay with that?’

      ‘Absolutely.’

      Twenty minutes later they got out of the cab. James told the cabbie to come back in a couple of hours and then pulled the paper from his pocket. He’d printed the e-tickets while she was showering this morning. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at them and registered what they were.

      ‘I don’t like queues.’ He shrugged.

      ‘I’m not a charity case.’

      ‘You can buy me lunch in return.’

      She looked up at him, her eyes very blue and fully serious. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’

      ‘I know you will.’ He ached to pull her close and kiss her and tell her not to worry about the damn price of anything. But he wasn’t going to do that to her. He respected her need for independence. For space.

      They were things he needed himself.

      They walked into the Great Hall of the museum. She inhaled a deep breath, she even seemed to grow taller. Yeah, this was definitely what she’d needed.

      He glanced around the interior—taking in the vaulted ceilings—and felt his own spirit revitalise. Yeah, he needed it too. To keep busy—his mind busy.

      He let her pick which collections to tackle, happy to follow in her wake—the requisite ‘five paces behind’ perfect for checking out the inherently seductive sway of her hips as she walked. She wore another floral dress that accentuated her waist and the lush curves of her breasts. Ah, he shouldn’t be thinking of her breasts. It was going to be hours before he could bare them and set his mouth over her pretty pink—

      He slammed the brakes on his thoughts and stared hard at a painting instead.

      Focus, James.

      But it was hard. He was hard. Why had he thought trailing around a gallery, unable to touch her, would be a good idea? He gave up on looking at the painted 2D beauties and concentrated on the live, warm, real woman right in front of him.

      ‘You don’t want to take photos? Buy postcards?’ he asked as they wandered from hall to hall.

      ‘No. I put things in here if I need to.’ She pulled a small sketchbook from her bag.

      ‘You draw?’ He peered over her shoulder to see the pages.

      ‘Enough to remember what I need to.’ She snapped it shut.

      But he’d got a glimpse—small, neat, pencilled pictures. ‘What kinds of things?’ He was intrigued.

      ‘Patterns. Ideas. Scraps of memory. But mostly it’s all up here.’ She tapped her temple. ‘Treasures.’

      Yeah, she was smart. Intense. Enthusiastic.

      His brain wandered off course again. Hell, he needed some fresh air.

      ‘So are we going to Central Park?’ she asked when they finally headed back to meet the cabbie.

      ‘That would be too obvious.’ He grinned.

      ‘Oh.’ Her brows arched.

      ‘This is a park where you wouldn’t expect to find one.’

      ‘Where’s that?’

      He pointed a finger to the sky.

      ‘This is really cool—the views are amazing.’ She almost bounced in excitement a half-hour later as they walked along the disused railway line that had been developed into an elevated, slim park. She turned to him and blushed. ‘You’ve seen all this.’ She glanced at him. ‘I’m sorry if this is boring.’

      ‘Never boring. I love New York.’ Hell, he’d forgotten just how much fun the city could be. When had he last had a holiday? He honestly couldn’t remember. Not a real holiday anyway; he always combined travel with work. ‘And I’ve not seen any of this with you before. Come on.’ He nodded to a stand ahead. ‘You can buy me lunch.’

      She glanced at him. ‘You want this for lunch?’

      ‘I love those pretzels.’

      ‘Real carbs man, aren’t you?’

      He nodded. ‘I find I need the energy at the moment.’

      Laughing, she went to the stand and bought two of the giant, doughy pretzels.

      She