The Seduction Scheme

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The Seduction Scheme Page 9

by Kim Lawrence


  ‘So you’re still here?’

  ‘Ask the same question in ten seconds and you’ll be talking to fresh air,’ she promised, heaving her bag onto her shoulder. ‘You must be pleased with how things went today.’

  ‘What happened to my seven-minute phone call?’ Benedict growled unexpectedly. He sat down on the deep window seat and she thought he looked to be in a foul humour for someone who’d just achieved miracles.

  Calmly she buttoned her dark tailored jacket to the neck. The very precise way she did so seemed to irritate him—his irritation was hard to miss. Some perverse imp made her go back and flick off an invisible speck then smooth a sleeve once more.

  ‘Albert’s temp was having a problem this morning locating a brief,’ she explained, with a final glance around her clean desk. ‘You don’t mind that I slipped down to help, do you?’

  ‘Why should I mind?’

  ‘You look a bit…on edge,’ she observed innocently. She met his hard scrutiny with a bland indifference that gave no hint of the churning misery in her stomach. Was he seeing the same scheming bitch his father evidently did when he looked at her now? Was he wishing he’d never shown any interest?

  ‘On edge,’ he mused. ‘That’s as good a description as any.’ For some reason the thought seemed to amuse him. ‘Are you surprised? You’ve met my father…’

  ‘On several occasions,’ she admitted, compressing her lips. ‘I didn’t know I’d made a deep impression, but today he seemed to know an awful lot about me.’

  ‘You did hear, didn’t you? Look at me, Rachel,’ Benedict said, and she could hear the urgency in his voice.

  ‘Hear what?’ she said in a bewildered tone.

  ‘You heard what my father said—heard what he intended you to hear. Didn’t you?’

  ‘It’s no big deal,’ she said, making a big show of looking at her watch. ‘What I did hear made very good sense.’

  What a fool she’d been to imagine she’d ever been anything but a passing fancy. Men like Ben Arden didn’t take women like her seriously—she was a novelty to a jaded palate, that was all. She ought to be thanking Stuart Arden for making her wake up.

  Walking through the corridors of the old, luxuriously furnished building today, she’d been hard-pressed not to assume that every quiet conversation she came upon was about her. Rationality didn’t come into it; the seeds of doubt had been planted and she felt conspicuous, as though everyone knew about her lustful fantasies. Fantasies that had almost become reality.

  When he spoke Benedict’s deep voice vibrated with anger and frustration. ‘You and my father are on the same wavelength, it would seem.’ His nostrils flared and the sensual curve of his lips was outlined by a thin white rim of anger. He came around and placed his hands palm down on her desk. The sturdy oak trembled slightly under the pressure, but not nearly as much as her knees trembled.

  ‘Do you mind?’ she asked coldly, catching hold of the creased corner of a document under his hand.

  As he leaned forward the warm male smell of his body assaulted her nostrils. She could see the faint dark blur of body hair through the fine white cotton of his shirt. Despite the air-conditioned coolness of the room sweat trickled down the valley between her breasts. Her hostility was almost submerged by the scorching thrill of arousal that swept through her.

  With a sweeping movement he knocked the whole pile she was attempting to straighten onto the floor. ‘Will you stop that?’

  For a moment she’d thought he had been privy to her prohibited thoughts. The flush of mortification faded when she recognised his meaning.

  ‘It’s what I’m paid to do!’ She hadn’t even realised she’d been sharpening a pile of pencils that lay neatly on her desk. ‘You won’t get anywhere with me by acting like a thwarted child!’

  The veneer of indifference was abruptly torn away and suddenly she was trembling with suppressed emotion—with humiliation. What did he think it felt like to hear herself discussed like a…an object? He might not like being reminded that at the end of the day it was daddy who called the shots, but at least he hadn’t heard himself spoken of like some sort of grasping tart!

  ‘How will I get somewhere with you?’ The husky query made her quiver.

  This was a question she decided it was politic to avoid. ‘Why didn’t he just sack me?’ she wondered out loud. She bit down firmly on her trembling lower lip.

  ‘Because that would leave him open to an accusation of unfair dismissal,’ Benedict said gently. He didn’t doubt his father would have used this method had it been an option.

  ‘I hope you told him he had nothing to worry about. A kiss, a bit of mild flirtation…I’m sure you’re much more pragmatic than he thinks. It would certainly take more than me to distract you from your great future.’

  ‘I’m much more selfish than either of you think.’

  She didn’t quite know what to make of this cryptic utterance, and mysteriously Benedict’s expression wasn’t showing much of the relief she’d expected after she’d so generously let him off the hook. She didn’t think for a minute he’d consider the effort of continuing to pursue her would be worth the aggravation.

  Her slender shoulders lifted fractionally and she gave a brittle laugh. ‘I’d hate to be the cause of dissent.’

  ‘Dissent is the natural state between my father and me.’

  ‘Fine, if that suits you, but I don’t feel happy being in the middle of your private battleground.’ Her eyes filled slowly with tears and angrily she blinked back the stinging heat. ‘Hearing you discuss me…it made me feel soiled and…’ She shook her head as she swallowed the constriction in her throat.

  ‘Hurt,’ Benedict supplied gently.

  ‘No matter,’ she said with a sniff. Hurt implied she cared to begin with. ‘I know some people think just being a single parent automatically means that you’re on the look-out to rectify the situation.’ She swallowed and cleared her throat. Losing her cool now wasn’t going to help. ‘About lunch; shall I book you a table for two for tomorrow?’ She could be the perfect secretary for a few more days, maybe less—how hard could it be?

  ‘What makes you think I’ll need a table for two?’

  ‘I thought you might want to lunch with Sabrina; she did leave a message to that effect. Didn’t you get it?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘She looks a very persuasive sort of girl.’ Perhaps I can take night classes in eyelash-fluttering, she thought viciously as she smiled generously.

  ‘She’s also a great cook,’ he agreed readily. ‘It makes you wonder why I settled for an indifferent cheese sandwich instead of the full works, doesn’t it? Yes,’ he agreed, folding his arms across his chest as she looked up with a startled expression. ‘I was on my way there when Charlie kidnapped me. Can you take a letter?’

  ‘Of course,’ she replied, her professional dignity stung as she knocked all the neatly sharpened pencils onto the floor.

  ‘It’s a letter of resignation,’ he continued calmly as she scrabbled about on her knees, retrieving the scattered pencils.

  ‘A what?’ she yelped, straightening up and hitting her head on the desk. ‘Ouch! You want me to resign?’

  ‘My letter of resignation.’

  ‘You can’t resign because of me!’ she said in a horror-struck tone. She sat back on her heels, wondering how she’d managed to get caught up in the middle of this chaos.

  ‘I’m not resigning because of you.’

  ‘Oh! Of course not.’ That’s what happens when you get ideas above your station, my girl, she told herself. If the father could humiliate her, why not the son?

  ‘Although I can see that would be quite a gesture.’ His frivolous tone made her frown.

  ‘I think you should think very seriously about this, Ben.’

  ‘I know you believe I’m a capricious party animal, incapable of sober reflection.’ The ironic flick of his eyes made her flush guiltily. ‘But I have actually thought this out. It’s something I’ve been thin
king about ever since I came back from Australia. I’m going back…’

  And there was me thinking I had something to do with his decision. The dark irony was like a dagger-thrust.

  ‘I see.’ It’s about time you opened your eyes and did just that, girl, she told herself sternly. ‘And how you spend your leisure time is nothing to do with me. You’re single, eligible, and it’s very natural that you like to let your hair down.’ These pragmatic words succeeded in focusing his eyes on her own hair, which fell softly around her shoulders. ‘The London social scene will probably grind to a halt without you,’ she added quickly.

  ‘That sounds a bit impersonal; I’d prefer to picture pillows wet with tears.’

  I just bet you would, she thought, inhaling deeply to steady herself. ‘The world is full of impressionable females.’ Her tone made it quite clear she didn’t categorise herself as one of these.

  She was getting her message across loud and clear. ‘Your world might be full of them, but I meet precious few,’ Benedict responded drily.

  ‘Perhaps you’ll have more luck in the outback?’ He was actually serious; it finally filtered into her consciousness. He was going. Would he really give up a lifestyle most people would envy?

  ‘Australian women are certainly refreshingly open.’

  ‘Are they the main reason you’re going there?’

  ‘Careful, Rachel, you’re sounding jealous,’ he pointed out smoothly. He ignored her strangled squeak of denial and continued smoothly. ‘My grandmother left me a cattle station in Queensland when she died four years ago. I put in a manager and left it to take care of itself until last year when he walked out and it became painfully clear he’d been siphoning off profits.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘Oh, indeed, especially as Nina left me land but very little capital. Remember we’re talking a different scale; put the station in Britain and think a small village. A lot of people’s livelihood depends on its continued prosperity. Overstocking plus drought had left the place in a pretty bad way. I went out to sort out the legal wrangles and put another manager—one I could trust—in his place. If it wasn’t for my mother’s sentimental attachment to the place—she was brought up on the Creek—I might well have put it on the market. It was just one big hassle.’

  ‘Was?’

  Benedict grinned and she realised she’d never seen his eyes burn with quite that sort of enthusiasm before.

  ‘It still is, but the place has a way of getting under your skin. My life has always been so predictable: pass exams before and with higher marks than the next guy; be the first, the best… It stopped being a challenge years ago. Connor’s Creek is different; the land is…’ He gave an almost self-conscious shrug. ‘To cut a long story short I kept putting off finding a manager and in the end I didn’t bother.’

  ‘You never intended staying here?’ Did I come under the heading of time-filler—a handy stopgap? she wondered bitterly.

  ‘I left my options open.’ Deep down he knew that wasn’t really true; he’d always known he was going back.

  ‘I can’t see you…’

  ‘The suit does come off…remember? I had a hard time convincing the people there I was serious too. Some people go too much on appearances.’

  She did remember what he looked like without the suit and suddenly it wasn’t so hard to think of him getting his hands dirty working under some vast, alien blue sky. She could imagine him relishing shrugging off the constraints of civilisation and undertaking a task that required not just his mental tenacity but also his physical endurance.

  ‘Your family won’t be happy.’ Why did she feel like this—so empty? She was physically attracted to him, nothing else. His leaving was a perfect solution in many ways to her own problem. No Benedict—no problem.

  ‘Dad’s got an heir apparent; he just doesn’t realise it yet.’

  ‘What about law—your career?’

  ‘It’ll survive without me. To be honest this has always bored me.’ His shrug took in their surroundings.

  ‘Perhaps that’s why you throw yourself so wholeheartedly into the social whirl—you’re compensating for your stifling professional life? Pardon me for saying so, but that all sounds a bit glib. Who’s to say you won’t get bored with playing cowboy in few years’ time?’

  ‘Leave the bitter irony to me, Rachel; it doesn’t suit you.’ His quiet tone made her feel uncharitable and plain mean. ‘Not many people find a place they know they’re truly meant to be. When I make up my mind what I want I’m not easily deflected.’

  The warning in his words made her shiver. If she didn’t tear her eyes away from his, critical meltdown was imminent!

  If anyone had told him a year ago that a man could become emotionally attached to a place, a piece of land, he’d have laughed. Now he knew differently. As he’d explored the vast expanse of land they called the Creek he’d found himself envying the men who had settled this area, who’d been the first. This rapport with the land wasn’t something he could put into words—wasn’t something he could explain to anyone.

  ‘It’s a big step to take,’ she said huskily.

  ‘They’re the only ones worth taking, Rachel.’ He extended his hand and she realised she was still sitting on the floor, her fingers clutching a pile of papers. Her hand slid inside his and he pulled her to her feet. With a tiny jerk of his arm he drew her closer and she automatically raised her eyes to his.

  It was a mistake. He was going to the other side of the world; it wasn’t something she was likely to forget but she thought this was an opportune moment to remind herself of the fact while her nervous system was plugged into its own personal high-voltage system.

  He knew how he made her feel—he knew exactly how he made her feel; he was too experienced to miss the obvious signs she was transmitting. Walking away from Benedict Arden with her pride intact might be a small step when compared to what he was doing, but it was going to be one of the hardest things she’d ever done.

  ‘Is what you’ve told me public knowledge, or do you want me to be discreet?’

  When she’d tried to step back he’d slid his fingers down to the curve of her elbow. It was stand still and take the agony that being this close to him was giving her or dislocate her shoulder. On reflection maybe dislocations weren’t that bad!

  ‘You’re the only person I’ve told.’ She could feel the web of intimacy his soft words were weaving around her. Illusion, she told herself—wishful thinking. ‘Will you be sorry to see me go, Rachel?’

  ‘I’m only your temporary secretary,’ she reminded him lightly. ‘It doesn’t really affect me.’ I’m a temporary everything, she thought with a surge of self-pity.

  ‘I was forgetting,’ he said smoothly. His eyes were on the small creamy V of skin where her shirt was modestly unbuttoned at the neck. She half expected the delicate gold chain she wore to melt under the hot, smoky scrutiny. ‘And I suppose on a more personal note it might even help my cause.’

  ‘How exactly?’ she asked uncertainly. It occurred to her that if anyone walked in right now the gossips would have something more substantial than hearsay to sink their fangs into.

  ‘You don’t like the fact that Charlie likes me. You’re afraid of her getting attached to me. This way there’s no chance of that happening now, is there? I’m just passing through.’

  ‘You always were,’ she snapped bitterly. ‘And anyway it’s not true!’ The quirk of one eloquent dark brow made her subside into slightly resentful silence. A mother’s job was to protect her child; she refused to feel apologetic.

  ‘It’s a natural enough response. You like to keep men on the outside—strictly no admittance to the enchanted circle. That’s probably why you took such a shine to good old Nigel—you knew there was no possibility of him cracking the code. I don’t think your home has stayed a male-free zone by accident.’

  ‘What a load of rubbish!’ she shouted. What was wrong with being emotionally independent? He made it sound like a disease. ‘I�
��m old enough to realise that some relationships are transitory—shallow; Charlie isn’t. I don’t want her to be hurt. You’re nice to her and she’s reading all sorts of things into it. She’s used to men who run a mile when they know you have a child; she can cope with them.’

  ‘Be serious, Rachel. Look in the mirror.’ He took her chin in his hand and examined her profile greedily. ‘Most men would put up with a tribe of juvenile delinquents if you were part of the bargain.’

  ‘Most men want a shallow, superficial relationship.’ Her defiance was weakening. If he’d chosen that moment to kiss away her objections she’d have been a goner.

  ‘And isn’t that exactly what you wanted with Steve…me? Didn’t you fantasise just a little bit about making love to a total stranger—no questions, no complications? You were attracted to him—me. I’ve never seen a more obvious case of lust at first sight. Anonymous sex—didn’t you think about it? You could safely surrender to male dominance; I’m sure that was tempting. You’d be completely free with a stranger to express your needs in any way you chose.’

  The emotions his throaty, insidious words stirred up made her head spin—with anger, she told herself. ‘Sex with a stranger is not my idea of safety,’ she said unsteadily.

  ‘Perhaps a safety valve would be a more appropriate description,’ he conceded calmly. ‘A release for all your repressed sexual feelings. It wouldn’t surprise me if the last person you slept with was Charlie’s father,’ he jeered provocatively.

  Seeing the expression on her face, he froze. ‘Good God!’ he breathed hoarsely. ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ Under the healthy glow of his olive-toned skin he’d gone white with shock. ‘A hard act to follow, is that it?’ Learning his competition was six feet under was not one of the greater moments in his life! Ghosts could do no wrong.

  She was so amazed at his interpretation, she didn’t reply at all. At nineteen, and working as an au pair with a delightful couple in the South of France, she’d reacted the way most teenage girls would have on meeting the famous brother of her host. Raoul Fauré had been a Formula One driver as renowned for trophy girlfriends as he was for his racing trophies. His reckless skill on the circuit had brought him adulation from the public and envy from his peers.

 

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