The Last Woman He'd Ever Date (Mills & Boon Modern Tempted)

by Fielding, Liz

  Dating Hal North Rule Number One: This is not a date.

  ‘Alice and the dogs are having a sleepover with Penny.’ She handed him the heavy naval officer’s dress cloak that had belonged to her great-grandfather. ‘Didn’t she tell you?’

  ‘Penny? We don’t gossip over the ledgers.’

  ‘Neither do we,’ she said, turning so that he put it over her shoulders. ‘I would never ask her anything about Cranbrook Park. Or you.’

  ‘Discretion. How rare these days.’ His fingers momentarily brushed her naked shoulders as he settled the cloak into place, then, as she turned to face him, he looked her up and down, raised an eyebrow. ‘Shouldn’t you have a sword to go with that?’

  ‘Yes, but it tends to cause havoc when I’m dancing.’

  ‘Then I’m glad you decided to go unarmed.’ He stepped out onto the path, waited while she picked up a small clutch purse, made sure the door was shut, then, with his hand to her back, followed her down the path to the waiting car. ‘Who does she think you’re with? Penny.’

  ‘I told her it was work.’ She smiled at the driver who was holding the door and stepped inside, gathering the cloak around her as she sat down. ‘Which of course, it is.’

  ‘If that’s a warning that I’m going to be talking to the press all evening,’ he said, sitting beside her, ‘this could be a very quiet journey.’

  ‘That would be a pity. Just think of me as your fairy godmother. Which means, unfortunately, that this car will turn into a pumpkin at twelve.’

  ‘That should prove interesting if we’re on the motorway at the time.’

  ‘Hopefully it will concentrate your mind,’ she said. ‘I promised my daughter I wouldn’t stay out after midnight.’

  ‘And she believed you?’

  ‘Of course. I’m her mother. So, tell me about this dinner we’re going to.’

  ‘It’s a charity event. There’s going to be an auction to raise funds for the homeless.’

  ‘You should have told me. I didn’t bring my chequebook. Just a little emergency money tucked into my underwear.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he replied. ‘I’ll look away while you retrieve it. If anything catches your eyes.’

  ‘My emergencies don’t come that expensive,’ she said.

  ‘Well, if anything catches your eye just say and I’ll bid for you. You can always settle up later.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll remember that.’

  Settle up? There was something about the way he said that…

  Dating Hal North Rule Number Two: Sit on your hands.

  ‘And I asked you because I don’t go to clubs or parties or any of the places where you meet up with unattached women.’ He looked across at her. ‘Pretty much like you, I imagine.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not into women.’ She raised her hand in a dismissive little gesture. ‘Not in that way.’

  ‘I got that impression,’ he said. ‘Is there a man in your life?’

  Weird question. Did he think she would have kissed him like that if she’d had anyone even remotely attached to her? Obviously he did. Which meant that she shouldn’t take his kiss too seriously.

  ‘It’s Saturday night and I’m out with you filling an empty chair,’ she said with what she hoped came across as careless indifference. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I thought we’d already established that for you this is work,’ he said. ‘As it is for me. You’re right, Bea does usually fill in on these occasions but she’s started leaving details of dating websites on my desk, so I’m taking the hint that she has better things to do on a Saturday night. Have you ever tried that?’

  ‘Online dating?’ She shook her head. ‘A colleague persuaded me to go speed dating with her once, but Alice had an earache so I had to miss it.’ She sighed. ‘I was devastated.’ Then, when he didn’t respond, she said, ‘That was your cue to laugh, Hal.’

  ‘Was it? I appear to be sadly out of practice with this.’

  She doubted that. Just as she doubted the fact that his assistant acted as his walker on these occasions. No man as good-looking as Hal North, as rich as Hal North, would ever have to go hunting for a date.

  ‘Your assistant doesn’t have to be entertained?’ she asked.

  ‘We usually talk about work.’

  ‘No wonder she bailed out,’ she said, firmly suppressing a tiny ‘hooray.’ ‘That would be the plummy Ms Webb?’ she enquired. He probably had more than one assistant.

  ‘Plummy?’

  ‘Plummy. “Don’t you people ever speak to one another?”’ she quoted in a particularly rich level of plum. ‘“I’ve already told your editor that Mr North does not speak to the press…”’

  Her performance earned her an appreciative chuckle.

  ‘That’s better.’

  ‘I’m a fast learner.’

  ‘She didn’t tell you that I’d called, did she?’

  ‘Maybe she didn’t think you were important enough.’

  ‘That was the impression I got.’ It was warm in the car and she unhooked the cloak, pushed it back off her shoulders. ‘Tell me, Hal, how did you make the leap from a youth with a bad attitude to multimillionaire?’

  ‘You don’t subscribe to the subtle school of interview technique do you, Claire? I thought the idea was to put people at their ease, draw them out gradually until they were answering your questions without noticing.’

  ‘Oh, please. That would be a complete waste of time. You’re on your guard, waiting for the questions, so I thought I might as well get them out of the way and then we can relax and enjoy ourselves.’

  ‘Good plan. You can tick that one off. How’s your foot?’ he asked.

  ‘Fully healed, thanks. You give great first aid.’

  ‘No excuse not to dance, then.’

  ‘Dance?’

  ‘I assumed, since you left your sword at home, that it was your intention to tango.’

  ‘I was making conversation,’ she squeaked as, for a moment, her carefully worked out plan of attack deserted her and all she could think of was Hal holding her, her hand in his, his hand at her waist, sliding lower as he pulled her close against his hips…

  Dating Hal North Rule Number Three: Carry a fan at all times.

  ‘You do dance?’ he persisted.

  ‘I may need reminding… How’s the pony settling in?’ He hadn’t been there when she’d taken Alice and Savannah to see him after school. He’d been called away to London according to Penny. Urgent business. How long would he stay?

  ‘Archie is teaching him the ropes. What happened to the cake I was promised?’

  ‘The guys working on the roof had a tea break. Who gave you your start?’ she asked.

  ‘My start?’

  ‘In business. There must have been someone. You can’t make the kind of leap you’ve done without a hand up.’

  ‘I don’t recall any hand being involved. Only a metaphorical boot in the backside from your father.’ He thought about it. ‘Forget the metaphorical.’

  She’d hoped that by disarming him with her candour, maybe making him laugh a little, Hal would relent and tell her his story. It wasn’t going to happen and bearing in mind that all those girls who’d giggled at the bus stop, who’d called her names, would die to be where she was now, in a limousine, going to a black-tie dinner in London with Hal North, she gave it up.

  Instead of worrying about her story she should just seize the moment, enjoy it. And with that decided, she half turned and propped her elbow against the back seat so that she was facing him.

  ‘Okay, here’s a novel idea, Hal,’ she said. ‘Let’s call a truce for tonight, forget about the past, the future and simply enjoy ourselves.’

  ‘You’re suggesting that we should go for fun?’

  If she’d wanted to surprise him, then she’d apparently scored a bullseye.

  ‘Isn’t that the idea? Eat a little, dance a little, spend loads of your money on a good cause.’

  He shifted in his seat so that he was facing her
. ‘I notice you didn’t say “our” money.’

  ‘We both know that I don’t have any, but I’ll be cheering you all the way.’

  ‘No past, no future, just the present?’

  ‘Until the clock strikes twelve,’ she said, offering her hand to seal the bargain.

  ‘Until midnight, Cinderella,’ he said, taking it. ‘And this time, let’s try to get you home with both shoes.

  *

  Claire was wearing her hair pinned up, but not in that frightful schoolmarm way she’d had it when she ridden into him on her bicycle.

  It was a tumble of curls from which tendrils escaped to coil softly against her cheek. Her only jewellery was a pair of long dark blue enamelled and silver earrings which drew attention to a neck that begged to be stroked and her dress might have been a bargain but it had the kind of elegant simplicity that emphasized her slender figure, her height. Better still, there were no buttons, just tiny straps which had a tendency to slip off her shoulders when she shrugged in a way that gave a man all kinds of inappropriate ideas.

  One slipped now as she laughed at something her neighbour said to her and she left it dangling, more interested in conversation than clothes. She had been a hit with these people. She talked to the women about the things that interested them, laughed in all the right places. Charmed the men without alienating their wives.

  Why was he surprised?

  She might not have gone to university but she was well educated, had a job requiring empathy, as well as intelligence.

  He would do well to remember the intelligence.

  No doubt she was simply biding her time, hoping that he would crumble and reveal some dark secret, but having made her deal, she had thrown herself into the evening with enthusiasm. And just as he had when they’d had lunch together, he’d forgotten who she was.

  She turned, caught him looking at her. ‘What? Have I got spinach between my teeth?’

  ‘Was there spinach? I didn’t notice.’ He hadn’t been noticing much of anything. All he could think about was holding her as they danced. No… ‘Elizabeth was admiring your earrings,’ he said. He really mustn’t think about holding her. His hand at her back, his body betraying what she did to him. Elizabeth, thankfully, turned at the sound of her name. ‘I was telling Claire that you were asking about her earrings.’ She’d assumed that he’d bought them for her. And put the idea in his mind of dressing her naked body in jewels… Possessing her.

  ‘Aren’t they gorgeous?’ Claire said enthusiastically, not girly or coy. ‘I wrote a piece about a local jewellery designer for the women’s page of my newspaper and I couldn’t resist treating myself. Every piece is different,’ she said, taking a pen out of her purse to write something on the menu. ‘That’s her website,’ she said, putting her hand on his arm as she leaned across to hand it to the woman.

  The move exposed the delicious curve of neck and shoulder and all he could think about was touching his lips to the point where they met, about tasting her skin, sinking his teeth into the smooth flesh and sucking it into his mouth.

  Only the sharp rap of a gavel from the television personality conducting the auction saved him from making a complete ass of himself.

  ‘Okay, everyone. We’ve softened you up with good food and good wine and before we let you loose on the dance floor we’re going to part you from your money for a great cause.’

  Claire straightened. ‘Uh-oh. That’s the cue for me to sit on my hands.’

  He caught one before she could carry out her threat, wrapping his fingers around it. ‘Don’t do that. I want you to bid for me.’

  ‘Really?’ She sounded wary, but her eyes were sparkling with excitement. ‘Suppose I get carried away?’

  ‘That’s the whole idea. It’s for charity.’

  ‘Okaaay…’ She used her free hand to pick up the list of lots to be auctioned. ‘What takes your fancy? A sporting

  trophy for your office wall? A cricket bat signed by the Ashes-winning team?’ She looked up and he shook his head. ‘Not interested? Maybe something from the world of transport. A spoiler from an F1 car? An early Rolls Royce mascot? Or are you interested in a different kind of trophy?’ She grinned. ‘How about a bra which was worn by—’

  ‘I don’t think it would fit me,’ he said.

  ‘It’s not to wear, it’s to drool over.’

  ‘If I’m going to drool over a bra, Claire, I want the owner to be inside it.’

  ‘Bad luck. I’m not…’

  ‘I know,’ he said. And, never taking his eyes from hers, he hooked a finger beneath the strap that had slipped from her shoulder and lifted it back into place.

  He had barely touched her and yet every nerve ending was alight with anticipation. How long had it been since he’d felt that way?

  Was it the uncertainty? He had done a little research of his own and knew a lot more about Claire Thackeray than she knew about him.

  Penny had been a mine of information. Not gossip, but responding to carefully phrased questions she had let slip far more than she knew. An admiring comment about Claire’s garden had, for instance, had her waxing lyrical about how she’d transformed the rank half acre of weeds that had been Jack North’s legacy into a garden entirely on her own.

  And her response to the, ‘She must have had help with the heavy work. A boyfriend?’ had been a firm negative. Apparently there had been no one. Which made the way she responded to his kisses rare. Real…

  Claire shivered.

  Hal had barely touched her and yet, as his fingertip brushed the shoulder, her skin had goosed and just the thought of dancing with him had her simmering. Scarcely any wonder that she’d blurted that out about her lack of a bra…

  She took a sip of water. Held the glass to her cheek.

  Until then she’d been doing so well. Being a good dinner guest, talking to the women, drawing them out—well, it was her job—laughing at the men’s jokes when all she’d wanted to do was look at Hal. Lay her fingers on the smooth dark cloth of his jacket sleeve as she leaned a little closer as if to catch what he was saying. To breath in the faint citrus scent of his aftershave.

  Dating Hal North Rule Number Four: Do not mention underwear.

  Dating Hal North Rule Number Five: Do not mention the fact that you’re not wearing a bra…

  ‘When I say I’m not…’ she said.

  ‘Lot number one is an England rugby shirt worn by Johnny Wilkinson. Who’ll start me off at—’

  ‘Put your hand up, Claire.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Put it up now.’

  ‘—a thousand pounds. And we have a great starting bid from the lovely lady sitting just below me.’

  ‘No…’ She realised that everyone was looking at her. ‘Did he say a thousand pounds?’ she asked, snatching her hand down. ‘It’s not even clean!’

  ‘Don’t be shy, gorgeous.’ The comedian leaned on the podium. ‘Stand up and let everyone see what a generous woman looks like.’

  She swallowed, glanced at Hal.

  ‘Do as the man says. Gorgeous.’

  ‘Bastard,’ she mouthed as she forced herself up on rubber legs, but this time he smiled.

  ‘What’s your name, darling?’

  ‘Claire…’ She cleared her throat. ‘Claire Thackeray.’

  ‘Well, there you have it. The gorgeous Claire Thackeray has set the benchmark for tonight’s auction with an opening bid of a thousand pounds. But you’re not going to let her get away with this shirt, this muddy, sweaty shirt straight from the back of one of England’s finest for a mere thousand pounds are you ladies?’ He put his hand to his ear. ‘Are you ladies?’

  ‘Did you enjoy that?’ Hal asked, as the bidding raced away and the auction took off.

  ‘Are you kidding?’ she demanded. ‘Playing patsy to an auctioneer is not my idea of a good time.’

  ‘Someone has to break the ice and we were both in need of a distraction. It was that or a jug of cold water in my lap.’

  So it
wasn’t just her…

  ‘If that’s your problem, Hal,’ she said, ‘buckle up for an expensive night, because I’m going to have to keep on bidding.’

  ‘I’ve got a better idea.’ He seized her wrist and stood up, attracting the attention of the auctioneer. ‘Ten thousand pounds,’ he said, heading for the door before the gavel came down.

  ‘Sold to the man exiting left in a hurry with the lovely Claire Thackeray. We’ll catch up with you later, Hal!’

  ‘What did you just bid for?’ Claire gasped as the lift doors closed on them.

  ‘Who cares?’ he said, bracketing her with his arms on the mirrored wall of the lift, his body pinning her against it.

  She thought he was going to kiss her, but he didn’t. He just held there, her breasts crushed against his chest, his thighs containing her, the tumescent evidence of his need rigid against her abdomen. He held her with his body, with his eyes and the hot, sweet ache of desire surged through her veins, liquefied between her legs…

  ‘But your guests…’ she gasped, in a last-ditch attempt at sanity.

  ‘Will have to provide their own distractions. I have to get you home by midnight…’

  ‘We’re never going to make it.’

  ‘My home.’

  The lift came to a halt, the doors opened, someone cleared their throat and he must of thought of something very painful to have regained such swift control before he stepped back and, nodding to the couple waiting for the lift, walked her into the foyer where her cloak was produced while she was still fumbling in her purse for the ticket.

  He didn’t touch her in the taxi that the doorman had waiting, didn’t even hold her hand. He didn’t touch her in the small lift that whisked them to the top of his riverside apartment block. He didn’t have to.

  Everything that was between them had been acknowledged, accepted as they’d ridden the lift down from the banqueting suite and now the air was vibrating with something primal, ancient; she was shaking with the need to feel the roughness of his skin against hers, the velvet, the silk, the steel…

  Knowing him was her destiny. Here, now was the moment and when they touched there would be no stopping, no going back.