Her Man with Iceberg Eyes

Kate Pleasance is on her best behavior. Matthew
McLeod is certainly not. She really needs the job he’s interviewing
her for. He totally wants the unexpected candidate in his bed.

But is Kate spying for her famous father? Should
Matthew trust her in the least?

Join them in the New Zealand alpine resort of
Queenstown, famous for its daredevil extreme sports.

Will Kate dare? And is Matthew really the devil he
seems to be?

Smashwords Edition

For more information about this author, visit
http://www.krispearson.com/

Love and thanks to Philip for the covers, and the
unfailing encouragement and computer un-snarling. And to my writer
friends Diana Fraser, Shirley Wine, and Serenity Woods – the
‘
Passion in Paradise
’ team.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or
persons, living or dead, is co-incidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Kris Pearson

Cover design © by Philip Pearson

Cover photograph dreamstimes.com

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US
Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be
reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means,
or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior
permission of the author.

Kate Pleasance scrolled through the online
job ads for the morning, and stopped when SUPERWOMAN WANTED jumped
out at her. Could she be a superwoman? She huffed out a sigh. She’d
been pretty damn super for the last three months!

With nothing to lose, she emailed her CV and
a slightly cheeky letter. She was exactly ready for a different
life—away from the sad memories of her mother, and far away from
all the people and places she’d known when she was Simon’s partner.
This definitely sounded different—something she could get her teeth
into and distract herself with—and in New Zealand’s most famous
alpine resort, too.

As she alighted from the commuter jet a bare
week later, the biting June air seeped through her cream Merino
suit jacket, through her camisole, into her very skin. From the
plane, Queenstown had looked deceptively summery—blue sky from edge
to edge—even though there was an icing-sugar dusting of snow on the
surrounding mountains. She’d left sixteen degrees at home, way to
the north in Auckland. Here it was a crisp and shimmering
eight.

She scanned the arrivals lounge where other
passengers were greeting friends and relatives. Charlotte had said
she’d be there to meet Kate, but what did Charlotte look like?

Not like the elderly lady in the blue hat. It
hadn’t been a quavery old voice on the phone.

Hopefully not like the harassed-looking woman
with the screaming child— although
she
certainly seemed in
need of a helpful companion.

And certainly not like the tall dark man with
his head down, studying something. They were the only people who’d
not claimed their passengers yet. Perhaps Charlotte was still
finding somewhere to park her car? Kate strode resolutely on.

Matthew compressed his lips and lifted his
eyes from the photograph clipped to the CV. That had to be the
Pleasance girl in the cream suit. The photo showed a pale young
woman with her dark hair pulled back and pinned up. She stared
primly into the camera lens—trying to look businesslike, he
supposed. Trying to look innocuous enough to gain access to his
home where she could spy for her ruthless father, more like!

He saw now that she was unusually tall, moved
with easy grace, and had hair right out of a shampoo ad—thick,
glossy, and flowing down past her shoulders today. His fingers
twitched at its imagined softness and warmth. Scheming bitch! The
severe CV photo certainly didn’t do justice to candidate number
three. For the interview, she was apparently turning on all her
feminine wiles in an effort to put him and Lottie off their
guard.

He reached out and touched her arm as she
moved past.

“Kate Pleasance?”

Kate whirled around, dislodging his hand.
Obviously he expected her if he knew her name. So who was he? And
where was Charlotte?

He was tall, so she relaxed a fraction. At
five-eleven she constantly disguised her height; at least she
didn’t have to do her telescoping act with this unknown man. But he
had curiously hostile eyes. Silver-blue and somehow menacing. If he
was here to greet her, why did he seem less than welcoming?

“Matthew McLeod,” he said, thrusting out a
hand.

For her to shake? Or to take her luggage?
Kate put her overnight bag down. He chose her hand, not the bag.
His handshake was warm and firm—almost too hard. Better than a
jellyfish ‘soft-for-a-lady’ effort though, she thought, returning
part of his masculine pressure.

“Lottie broke her ankle this morning,” he
said. “I’ve left her at the hospital. Okay with you if we go
straight back there?”

Lottie? Charlotte? Kate supposed so. She
nodded, summoning up a concerned expression for the woman she’d
never met, but hoped to be working for.

Matthew scooped up her bag and indicated the
terminal doors with a nod. Kate found that even with her long legs
she had to bustle to keep pace with his uncompromising stride.

The winter sun was low and dazzling. She
gained no further impression of Charlotte’s husband except height
and dark hair until they were seated in his big mud-spattered
silver SUV. She tried not to stare, but no matter how firmly she
instructed her eyes to look away, they insisted on taking sneaky
peeks at him.

He was somewhere between thirty-five and
forty, with a wide sensual mouth and deep smile lines etched either
side of it. A mouth she could imagine quirking humorously, snarling
with displeasure, or kissing like the devil. It was set in a lean
and battered outdoor face with few other traces of softness.

His long nose had been broken sometime in the
past and imperfectly reset. His hair was almost army-short. Not a
man to pick a fight with. Yet undeniably sexy if you liked hard,
arrogant men.

She didn’t. Definitely not. That’s what her
head said. But something deep inside her responded to him, dammit.
She decided to put it down to too much worry and too little sex. No
sex for several months—enough to make a girl very antsy when faced
with a prime specimen like Matthew McLeod. Thank God, he was off
the menu.

“Are you clumsy?” he threw sideways at
her.

“Is this part of the job interview?” Kate
demanded, somewhat taken aback.

He surprised her by laughing—a deep husky
chuckle which buzzed right through to her bones.

“Well, you’ve got a bit more spirit than the
other hopefuls. They were disappointingly polite.”

She allowed herself a small smile, and
relaxed very slightly. She had no idea how to reply.

“No—not part of the job interview,” he
continued. “But Lottie’s clumsy. Bad balance. She went for a skid
by the pond this morning and fell onto the rock garden. Hence the
broken ankle. Concussed herself too, possibly.”

“I hope this won’t be a wasted visit for you
then,” Kate murmured, still amazed the McLeods had paid for her to
travel so far south for the interview. And Matthew had mentioned
‘other hopefuls’, so several airfares had apparently been provided.
She wondered what the chances were she could get the job.

“Lottie liked you on the phone.”

Kate sensed he’d weighed his words carefully.
Only sensible in this sort of situation, but she wished she could
get some sort of handle on him. Maybe he’d taken an instant dislike
to her? Perhaps he’d do everything possible to ensure she wouldn’t
be the successful job seeker? She was much less comfortable with
him than she’d been during her phone call with Charlotte. There
was…definite wariness emanating from him. She watched him draw a
deep breath.

“I can tell you a bit more now I’ve met you,”
he continued, glancing across as he slowed to let another car pull
out.

Kate had never seen eyes so hypnotic. Bright
as rushing water... or icy winter sky. She felt helplessly
ensnared—like some poor struggling animal in a trap. It was
impossible to look away. Not because it would seem impolite, but
because he somehow had her under his control. She didn’t like that
sensation at all, and shifted restlessly in her seat. Her former
slight sense of relaxation had entirely disappeared. Now she was
truly edgy.

“We put her name in the ad as Charlotte
McLeod, which it legally is,” Matthew said. “But you might know her
better as Lottie Janssen?”

It took only a few seconds for the name to
register. “The painter! Oh goodness...” For the moment, Kate could
find no other words. Lottie Janssen was famous far beyond her New
Zealand homeland. Kate had seen a TV documentary about her a few
months previously. Lottie’s huge angry landscapes sold almost
exclusively in London and Amsterdam for prices that made most
people gasp.

“The painter indeed,” Matthew said dryly.
“She loses herself in her painting. Doesn’t look after herself well
enough. I’m away from home a lot, so we need a sort of lady’s
companion—although nothing that prissy.” He checked the rear view
mirror for a second and changed lanes. “A minder. An organiser. A
Personal Assistant and much more. Someone to feed her if she
forgets...to go for supplies...keep her functional. Be her
chauffeur sometimes. Pick her up if she falls over, too, it would
seem.” He shot her another searching look. “We have a weekly
cleaner, so there’s no drudgery. Lottie needs a mother hen. Able to
take over her correspondence and admin and leave her free to paint.
The ad covered most of it. And her phone call, I suppose. Have I
managed to put you off?”

Kate shook her head. “I’m bowled over.”

“She is... a rather daunting task,” Matthew
continued. “We need absolutely the right person. Strong but
subtle?” He locked eyes with her again. “Would you be strong but
subtle, Miss Pleasance?”

He’d raised the hairs on the back of her neck
with his simple query. Most of her seemed to be in turmoil. Her
nipples had peaked (with the cold, surely) and butterflies looped
the loop in her stomach. She clasped her hands together in her lap
so she wouldn’t pick nervously at the cuticles. How had he done
this?

“I’ve had to be pretty resourceful in the
past,” she replied, braving his very direct gaze again. “It’s time
for a big change in my life. I thought this sounded ideal—things I
can do, and some new tasks, too. I’d like the chance...?”

He nodded, apparently satisfied for the
moment, and returned his attention to the traffic. He said nothing
more, leaving Kate to wonder what sort of an impression she’d made
so far.

She wanted the job very much. It would be
like escaping into fresh air... a new start after months of
horrible turmoil. Now she knew Charlotte’s real identity, it added
an exciting twist to the situation. There might be overseas travel
involved; that hadn’t been mentioned during the phone call.

She’d instantly liked Charlotte—enjoyed her
enthusiastic, slightly foreign way of speaking and her big sudden
laugh. She’d felt comfortable chatting with her, but was much less
sure of herself with Matthew. With Charlotte in hospital, Matthew
might be the one to decide her future. And Kate was curiously
uneasy in his brooding presence.

He turned into the parking lot at the
District Hospital, and the sun slanted through the window onto his
hands. Huge capable hands, with long fingers and a smattering of
inky hair disappearing up inside his sleeves.

Her internal muscles gave a disconcerting
twitch of pleasure and she blinked with surprise.

No, no, no, Kate—that’s not the deal at
all.

But she couldn’t quite banish the thought of
those big hands stroking her skin, touching, caressing.

She forced herself to relax back into the
comfortable seat again until he drew to a halt. Matthew was
obviously not available. She’d keep her vivid scenarios safely
locked away in her brain—and what harm would a little fantasising
do?

But there was something—his confidence, or
his direct probing gaze, or his long lithe body—that had her
hormones humming. She smiled softly as she emerged from the SUV,
assuming it was because Simon had been out of her life for three
months now. She’d spent all of that time physically and mentally
exhausted, but the first stirrings of sensuality were definitely
returning—and they felt delicious.

Matthew led the way briskly along the
antiseptic-scented corridor, then stood aside for Kate to enter
Lottie’s room ahead of him. She moved hesitantly forward—she’d seen
too much of hospitals while her mother’s life drew to its sad end.
Sat too long in waiting rooms and the final hospice room filled
with flowers and hopeful cards.