Harlequin Presents--April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Dani Collins

  His smile broadened and the glint in his eyes intensified to a sharp point of diamond-bright light that made something at the base of her spine fizz. ‘You do me a disservice. I could get through that lot in a week.’ His voice was a deep, sexy baritone, the sort of voice that made her think of tangled sheets, sweaty bodies, panting breaths, primal needs. Needs Zoey had ignored for months and would keep on ignoring...or try to, which was not so easy with Finn looking so damn sexy and standing within touching distance.

  Being in Finn’s company made her feel strangely out of kilter. Her usual sang froid was replaced with a hearty desire to slap his designer-stubbled face and screech a mouthful of obscenities at him. She raised her chin a fraction, determined to hold his gaze without flinching. ‘One wonders if you have a revolving door on your bedroom.’

  Finn’s gaze drifted to her mouth, his indolent half-smile sending another frisson through her body. ‘You’re welcome to check it out some time and see for yourself.’

  Zoey gripped the tote bag strap hanging off her shoulder for something to do with her hands, her heart skipping a beat, two beats, three, as if she had suddenly developed a bad case of arrhythmia. ‘Does that line usually work for you?’ Honestly, if her tone got any frostier, they would have to turn on the heating in the auditorium.

  ‘Always.’ His lazy smile sent a soft, feathery sensation down the back of her neck and spine, and her willpower requested sick leave.

  Zoey could see why he had a reputation as a playboy—he was charm personified in every line of his gym-toned body. But she would resist him even if it killed her. She stretched her lips into a tight, no-teeth-showing smile. ‘Well, I’d better let you get back to your avid fans over there.’

  She began to turn away, but he stalled her by placing his hand lightly on her wrist and a high-voltage electrical charge shot through her body. He removed his hand within a second or two, but the sensation lingered on in her flesh, travelling from her wrist, up her arm and down her spine like a softly fizzing firework.

  ‘I was expecting to see your dad here. Or maybe I’ve missed him in the crowd.’ Finn turned and scanned the auditorium before meeting her gaze once more. ‘He mentioned in a text the other day about catching up for a coffee.’

  Zoey couldn’t imagine what Finn would have in common with her father other than they both ran advertising agencies. And as to having a coffee with him, well, if only it was caffeine her father was addicted to. It was no secret her dad had a drinking problem—he had disgraced himself publicly a few too many times in spite of her efforts to keep him from harming the business.

  Brackenfield Advertising was her birthright, her career, everything she had worked so hard for. She would do almost anything to keep the business on track, which meant sometimes feeling a little compromised when it came to managing her father. And right now, her father was at home nursing yet another hangover. And it wasn’t from indulging in too much caffeine.

  ‘My father is...catching up on work at home today.’

  ‘Then maybe you and I could grab a coffee instead.’

  ‘I’m busy.’ Zoey lifted her chin and narrowed her gaze to flint. ‘I didn’t know you and my father were bosom buddies.’

  His lips quirked in an enigmatic smile. ‘Business rivals can still be friends, can’t they?’

  ‘Not in my book.’ Zoey pointedly rubbed at her wrist, annoyed her skin was still tingling. One thing was for certain—she would never be Finn O’Connell’s friend. He was a player, and she was done with players. Done for good. She pulled her sleeve back down over her wrist. She hadn’t been touched by a man in months. Why should Finn’s touch have such an impact on her?

  She couldn’t deny he was potently attractive. Tall, lean and toned, with an olive complexion that was currently deeply tanned, he looked every inch the sophisticated, suave self-made businessman. Enormously wealthy, today he was casually dressed—as were most delegates—his crew-neck lightweight cotton sweater showcasing the breadth of his broad shoulders and his navy-blue chinos the length and strength of his legs.

  But, while Finn looked casual, nothing about his approach to business was laid back. He was focussed and ruthlessly driven, pulling in contracts so lucrative they made Zoey’s eyes water in envy.

  Zoey could sense his sensual power coming off him in waves. She was aware of him as she was aware of no other man. She had known him for a couple of years or so, running into him at various advertising functions. He had been her only rival for an account a few months ago and it still infuriated her that he’d won it instead of her, mostly because she knew for a fact he had a friend on the board of directors of the company—a female friend.

  ‘I hear you’re pitching for the Frascatelli account,’ Finn said with another mercurial smile. ‘Leonardo Frascatelli is only considering three ad companies’ pitches for his campaign. A battle between friends, yes?’

  Zoey blinked and her stomach dropped. Oh no, did that mean he was vying for it too? With only three candidates in the running, she’d been confident she was in with a chance. But what would happen to her chance if Finn was in the mix?

  The Italian hotel chain was the biggest account she had ever gone after, and if she won it she wouldn’t have to worry about her dad frittering away the business’s assets any more. She would finally prove to her father she had what it took to run the company. She ran the tip of her tongue over her suddenly carpet-dry lips, her heart beating so fast it threatened to pop out of her ribcage. She could not lose the Frascatelli account.

  She. Could. Not.

  And most certainly not to Finn O’Connell.

  Zoey was flying to New York that evening to present it the following afternoon. Her presentation was on her laptop in the cloak room along with her overnight bag. Did that mean he was flying over there too? ‘I can’t think of a single set of circumstances that would ever make me consider being friends with you.’

  ‘Not very creative of you,’ he drawled, his gaze sweeping over her in an indolent fashion. ‘I can think of plenty.’

  Zoey gave him a look that would have sent a swarm of angry wasps ducking for cover. ‘I can only imagine what sort of ridiculous scenario a mind like yours would come up with—that is, of course, if you can get it out of the gutter long enough.’

  Finn gave a rich, deep laugh that sent a tingle shimmering down her spine. Drat the man for being so incredibly attractive. Why couldn’t he could have one just one physical imperfection? His mellifluous voice was one of the first things she had noticed about him. He could read out loud the most boring, soporific financial report and she would be hanging on his every word. His smiling dark brown eyes made her lips twitch in spite of her effort not to be taken in by his practised charm.

  His mouth was nicely sculptured, his lips not too thick or too thin but somewhere perfectly in between. A mouth that promised erotic expertise in its every delicious contour. A mouth she had to keep well away from. No way was she joining the conga line to dive into his bed. No freaking way.

  ‘I wouldn’t dare to describe how my mind works.’ He gave a slow smile and added, ‘I might shock you to the core of your being.’

  The core of her being was still recovering from his lazy smile, thank you very much. There was a fluttery sensation between her legs, and she hated herself for being so weak. So what if he was smouldering hot? So what if he made her feel more of a woman than she had ever felt just by looking at her with that sardonic gaze?

  She had to resist him. She would be nothing more than a notch on his bedpost, a fleeting dalliance he would view as yet another conquest.

  ‘Nothing about you would shock me, Finn. You’re so boringly predictable, it’s nauseating.’ Not strictly true. He kept her on her toes more than any man she’d ever met. He constantly surprised her with his whip-smart repartee. She even—God forgive her—enjoyed their sparring. It gave her a rush, a secret thrill, to engage in a verbal s
crap with him because his quick-witted mind more than matched her own.

  Finn’s eyes kindled, as if her carelessly flung words had thrown down a challenge he couldn’t wait to act upon. ‘Ah, well then, I’ll have to lift my game to see if I can improve your opinion of me.’ His lips curved in another smile that curled her toes inside her shoes.

  ‘Finn!’ A young blonde woman came tottering over in vertiginous heels with her hand outstretched, waving a business card held in her perfectly manicured fingers. ‘I forgot to give you my number. Call me so we can catch up soon?’

  Finn took the card and slipped it into his trouser pocket, his smile never faltering. ‘Will do.’

  The young woman looked as if she had just won the mega-draw lottery, her eyes so bright they could have lit up a football stadium. She gave Finn a fingertip wave and tottered back off to join her gaggle of friends.

  Zoey rolled her eyes and, turning to one side, made vomiting noises. She straightened to lock gazes with Finn. ‘Really?’

  ‘She’s an intern. I’m mentoring her.’

  Zoey choked on a cynical laugh. She didn’t know what annoyed her more—his straight face or his assumption she would be fooled by it. ‘In the boardroom or the bedroom?’

  His eyes never left hers, his mouth twitching at the corners with amusement. ‘Your jealousy is immensely flattering. Who knew behind that ice maiden thing you’ve got going on is a woman so smoking-hot for me?’

  Zoey curled her hands into fists, her anger flaring like a flame doused by an accelerant. It formed a red mist before her eyes and made each of her limbs stiffen like the branches of a dead tree. He enjoyed goading her—she could see it in his eyes. He liked getting a rise out of her and never wasted an opportunity to do so. He was playing her, and she was a fool to respond to him. But how was she supposed to ignore him? He wasn’t the sort of man you could ignore. Oh, how she would love to slap his face. How she would love to kick him in the shins. How she would love to rake her nails—her unmanicured nails—down his face.

  And, God help her, how she would love to sleep with him to see if he was as exciting a lover as gossip had it. Not that she would ever act on such a desire. Since being cheated on by her long-term boyfriend, Rupert, she was completely and utterly over men. She had given her all to her ex and had been completely blindsided by his betrayal. She didn’t want the complications and compromises of a relationship any more.

  But whenever she was anywhere near Finn O’Connell every female hormone in her body went into overdrive. She became aware of her body in his presence—of the tingles and flutters and arrows of lust almost impossible to ignore. But ignore them she must. Sleeping with the enemy was not in her game plan.

  Zoey flashed him a livid glare, her chest heaving with the effort to contain her rage. ‘I wouldn’t sleep with you if you paid me a squillion pounds.’

  His dark eyes danced and his confident smile irked her beyond endurance. ‘Oh, babe, you surely don’t think I’m the kind of man who has to pay for sex?’ He stepped closer and placed two fingers beneath her chin, locking his gaze on hers. ‘Can you feel that?’ His voice lowered to a gravelly burr, his eyes holding hers in a mesmerising lock.

  ‘F-feel what?’ Zoey was annoyed her voice wobbled but her heart was leaping about like a mad thing in her chest, his fingers on her face sending a wave of scorching heat through her body.

  Finn stroked his thumb over the circle of her chin, his warm minty breath wafting across her lips, mingling with her own breath like two invisible lovers getting it on. ‘The energy we create together. I felt it the minute you walked into the room.’

  No way was she admitting she felt it too. No way. Zoey disguised a swallow, her heart-rate accelerating, her inner core tingling as if he had touched her between the legs instead of on her chin. Why wasn’t she stepping back? Why wasn’t she slapping his arrogant face? She was under some sort of sensual spell, captivated by the feel of his thumb pad caressing her chin in slow strokes. Intoxicated by the clean, freshly laundered smell of his clothes, the citrus top notes and the sexy bergamot base note of his aftershave. She could feel the forcefield of his sensual energy calling out to her in invisible waves.

  Her senses reeled from his closeness, his dangerously tempting closeness. She was acutely aware of his touch, even though it was only the pad of his thumb—it felt like a searing brand, the warmth seeping through her flesh travelling to her feminine core in a quicksilver streak.

  Zoey had been celibate for months. She hadn’t even thought about sex for weeks and weeks on end. Now, her mind was filling with images of being in bed with Finn in a tangle of limbs and crumpled bed linen, her body slick with sweat and glowing from earth-shattering pleasure. And she was in no doubt it would be earth-shattering pleasure. Being near him like this made her body pulse with longing—a raw, primal longing she wished she could block out, anaesthetise or bludgeon away. It was a persistent ache between her legs, a pounding ache in time with her heartbeat, an ache his touch triggered, inflamed, incited.

  But somehow, with a mammoth effort, she got her willpower to scramble back out of sick bay. ‘You’re imagining it...’ Zoey licked her lips and pulled out of his hold, rubbing at her chin and shooting him a frowning look through slitted eyes. ‘If you ever put your hands on me again, I won’t be answerable for the consequences,’ she added through tight lips.

  He gave a mock-shudder, his playful smile making his eyes gleam. ‘Listen, babe, you’ll be the one begging me to put my hands on you. I can guarantee it. Ciao.’

  He walked away without another word and Zoey was left seething, grinding her teeth to powder, hating him all the more, because she had a horrible feeling he might be right.

  CHAPTER TWO

  FINN WAS STANDING in line waiting to go through the business class security checkpoint at London Heathrow airport when he saw Zoey Brackenfield two people ahead of him. He had sensed her presence even before he saw her—it was if something alerted him the minute he stepped into her orbit. It had been the same at the conference that morning—he had sensed her in the room like a disturbance in an electromagnetic field. A shiver had passed over his scalp and run down his spine, as if some sort of alchemy was going on between them—otherwise known as rip-roaring lust.

  Finn always looked forward to seeing her at various advertising gigs. He enjoyed getting a rise out of her, which was amusingly easy to do. She was prickly and uptight, and flashed her violet gaze and lashed him with her sharp tongue any chance she got. But he knew deep in his DNA that underneath the prickly façade she was as hot for him as he was for her. Their combative repartee had been going on for months and he knew it was only a matter of time before she gave in to the desire that flared and flickered and flashed between them.

  Zoey took out her laptop from its bag and put it on a tray to go through the scanner, her striking features etched in a frown. He noticed the laptop was exactly the same brand and model as his—even the light grey bag was identical. Great minds think alike, he mused, and stepped up to take a tray from the stack.

  She placed her tote bag on another tray and stood waiting—not all that patiently. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, pushed back her left sleeve and glanced at the watch on her slim wrist, then pushed her mid-length silky black hair behind one shoulder. She was dressed in black leather trousers that clung like a glove to her long, slim legs and taut and shapely little bottom. Her silky baby-blue V-necked blouse skimmed her breasts and, when she turned on an angle in his line of vision and bent over to take off her high-heeled shoes, he caught a glimpse of her delightful cleavage and a jab of lust hit him in his groin.

  As if she sensed his gaze on her, she straightened and met his gaze, her frown intensifying, her eyes narrowing, her lips pursing.

  Finn smiled and pushed his laptop further along the conveyer belt, then he reached to unbuckle his belt to put it on the tray with his watch and wallet and keys. Zoey�
��s eyes followed the movement of his hands as he slowly released his belt, and two spots of colour formed on her cheeks. But then she bit her lip and whipped back round as if she was worried he was going to strip off completely. If only they’d been alone, he’d definitely have done that, and enjoyed watching her strip off too.

  There was a slight hold-up, as one of the people in front of Zoey had forgotten to take the loose coins out of their pocket. By the time Zoey walked through to collect her things from the conveyer belt, Finn’s things had come through as well. She barely gave him a glance, and snatched up her laptop and tote bag and scurried off, but she was soon stopped by one of the random check personnel. She blew out a breath and followed the uniformed man to be electronically swabbed.

  Finn absently put his laptop back in the carrier bag, his gaze tracking to Zoey as if drawn by an industrial-strength magnet. She was so damn cute he could barely stand it. But the people coming through behind him in the queue meant he had to get his mind back on the task at hand. He hitched the laptop bag over his shoulder then put his belt back on and slipped his wallet and phone and keys in his trouser pockets.

  His gaze flicked back to Zoey and the frustrated look on her face brought a smile to his lips. Those random checks were so random, he got called over every time he flew, but today was apparently his lucky day. No pat-down for him, but, hey, he wouldn’t mind if it was Zoey doing the patting down.

  Zoey was finally given the all-clear and gathered her things and stalked past, her head at a proud height, her gaze pointedly ignoring him.

  ‘Got time for a drink?’ Finn asked, catching up with her in a couple of easy strides.