by Natalie Fox
'What do you think you're doing?'
She looked up from the edge of the bed and paused with the telephone receiver in her hand as he came into the bedroom. He'd showered somewhere else and was wearing an identical robe but of dark blue. Obviously from the blue suite!
'Calling a taxi,' she told him openly. 'Thanks for the suggestion and I'll borrow your robe to get into it and if you strip that from me I will get into it naked. Nothing will stop me from leaving here.'
He made no comment about that which surprised her. 'You know the number of a local taxi firm, do you?' he simply asked sarcastically, leaning against the wall to watch her.
'I'm not familiar with the area but I know how to use Directory Enquiries,' she rallied back, equally sarcastically.
'You're wasting your time. No cab can get through the gates till six o'clock in the morning. The lock is on a time switch.'
Alexia's fingers hovered over the key pad of the phone. 'So what happens if there's a fire? Don't tell me the fire service round here is airborne for your convenience?'
She tapped out the code for Directory Enquiries. He wasn't going to bluff her any more.
'If there's a fire, sweetheart, we burn.'.
Something in his tone froze her fingers and she looked up at him. His eyes were burning, searing into her flesh at the V of the robe. Without a touch she could feel the frisson on her skin. A man who had the power to do that to a woman was highly dangerous. She clasped her free hand to her chest to close the mutinous towelling over her cleavage. He said nothing but allowed a hint of a smile to hover at the corners of his lips as if he knew the power his eyes had had on her vulnerable flesh.
Slamming the receiver down, she snarled at him. 'You can override the time switch on those gates but you won't, will you? You honestly believe you can keep me here against my will and force me into your bed.'
'I don't need to use force,' he murmured thickly. 'You know it and I know it, Alexia. I want you but I'm no hero and I'm not going to break a leg getting across you. I'll wait till you're good and ready to be bedded and that will be good for us both.' He eased himself away from the wall. 'I'll leave you now and let you get some rest.'
'I'm not staying here all night!' she protested, leaping to her feet. Somehow she didn't gratefully register that he was easing up the pressure on her.
'You have no choice, so why don't you just lie back and think of England?' He laughed at the outrage that burned her cheeks. 'Sleep, Alexia, and when you get up in the morning all will be clear to you. We need each other, body and business, and there's nothing in the world that is going to change that.'
'I don't need you, personally or impersonally. You have a very destructive way of doing business, Harry Masters. If you had held your libido in check tonight we might have got somewhere with our negotiations ... we would --'
'I assure you I am holding my libido in check,' he interrupted, chillingly. 'If I hadn't exerted a great deal of self-control already tonight you would be panting in the after-throes of our lovemaking by now. Cool your temper and get some rest. I'll see you in the morning.'
He walked to the door and slammed it behind him, clicking the key in the lock before she came to her senses. In a fit of temper she threw herself at the door and pounded furiously on the panelling.
'I hate you!' she screamed, but there was no answer, just a silence which was far more frustrating.
Furiously she hunted for the key she had tossed so triumphantly, now, on reflection, so carelessly, on the top of the bed. She searched the floor in case it had slipped from the silky coverlet. Damn!
It was nowhere here, but more than likely in Harry Masters's robe pocket. How stupid could she get?
Finally, hot and frustrated and on the verge of tears, she flung off the robe and crawled between the sheets. His sheets. No matter which way she turned she was surrounded by him, his bed, his room... Oh, God, he could creep in during the night and slide into bed with her... With a small sob she turned her face into the pillow.
The morning was bright and clear and for a moment Alexia wasn't sure where she was when she woke up in her unfamiliar surroundings.
She moaned and rubbed her eyes and pulled herself out from under the sheets. She sat up, sweeping her long thick sable-brown hair from her face.
'You're nearly as beautiful first thing in the morning as you are last thing at night.'
She heard the voice and it was numb seconds before it registered. She was covered to the waist by the sheets, nothing more. She clutched the green coverlet to her breasts and looked to where the voice had come from. Harry Masters was standing in the doorway of his dressing-room, in the process of sliding a well-muscled shoulder into a pale blue shirt. He was already wearing jeans and it was no consolation; the front was gaping open.
'Can't you knock?' she cried, trying to look away from the white silk boxer shorts he wore underneath and not having a lot of success.
'On my own bedroom door?' He tutted and proceeded to tuck his shirt in his jeans and zip them up. He laughed softly at her outraged expression. 'And what a prude you are, Alexia. Think yourself lucky I'm zipping myself into my jeans, not out of them.'
'Don't you ever give up?' she retorted. 'You must have been an obnoxious child, because you're certainly an obnoxious adult.'
'I don't think my mother would agree with you; she adores me,' he said mockingly.
'You surprise me. It must have been quite a shock when she gave birth and asked what it was and the midwife said, "An arrogant little bastard." Now, would you mind removing your arrogant self while I dress without you bursting a blood vessel watching my every movement?'
He came towards her and leaned over the bed, one hand on the wall. His warm breath fanned her cheek. 'And what do you intend dressing in?'
She gazed up at him in alarm. 'Surely you haven't confiscated my clothes indefinitely?'
'What a poor opinion you have of me. No, sweetheart, I haven't confiscated them, simply dispatched them to the dry cleaners. They should be back by teatime, so in the meantime you might as well stay in bed for the day.' He raised a mocking eyebrow. 'I honestly don't mind. If I have time I might join you—only if I can fit you in, that is.'
He moved towards the door and then turned to face her. 'So what would you like for breakfast, powdered glass scrambled lightly with a slice of barbed sarcasm?'
She smiled sweetly at him. 'Sounds delicious but I'd rather join you with the sour grapes. You really can't believe you didn't manage to bed me last night, can you?'
His mouth twisted wryly. 'That was my choice, not yours, Alexia. Did you sleep well, by the way?'
'Perfectly,' she sighed contentedly. 'Contrary to what you are thinking, I didn't lose any sleep over you.'
'Nor I you,' he said as he went to the door.
The telephone trilled at the bedside and devilishly Alexia reached for it. In her sexiest, sleepiest voice she purred a hello down the mouthpiece and watched Harry Masters's reaction with heavy-lidded eyes. She hoped it was the redhead. It would serve him right for what he had put her through. The voice that asked for Harry was certainly a female, with the hint of a sexy foreign accent too.
'Just a minute,' Alexia purred lazily. 'Harry, darling,' she called softly, not bothering to cover the mouthpiece and hoping she was getting it across that this call had come through to his bedroom, 'it's for you.'
She held the receiver up to him with a blaze of satisfaction across her face and then she snuggled down into the bed to listen to every word of denial he was about to spurt.
She concealed her dismay as he perched on the edge of the bed next to her and carried on a good ten-minute conversation in fluent French, of which Alexia didn't understand a single word. When he finally put down the phone Alexia murmured, 'Funny, I wouldn't have thought she was French, more your local neighbourhood floozy!'
He frowned. 'Who?'
'The sexy redhead, of course! "Serena, baby," isn't it?'
He laughed. 'Oh, that was my mothe
r, the one who adores me so. You'd get on famously with her; you have the same sweet biting charm except she has the edge on you, darling. She doesn't mince words. Her description of you was certainly stronger than floozy!'
Unashamed, Alexia retorted, 'She obviously knows your taste in women, then.'
He bent over her and kissed her very firmly on the mouth before she had a chance to protest. 'There isn't an answer to that,' he husked in her ear, 'not one that you would come out from graciously.' He stood up and walked to the door and just closed it in time before the pillow hit it.
Alexia got up, and, wrapping the coverlet round her, hobbled to Harry Masters's dressing-room. There must be something that would fit her! She wasn't going to lie around in bed all day waiting for his next insult to explode around her ears.
Ten minutes later she emerged in a baggy black T-shirt and a pair of thin white cotton jeans which she'd rolled up round her ankles and gathered the waist in with an expensive silk Yves St Laurent tie, not caring if she ruined every last item.
The door wasn't locked and she left the bedroom and went downstairs, following her nose to the kitchen where to her surprise Harry Masters was grilling bacon.
He turned when she entered the big efficient kitchen, more suited to catering to the vast dimensions of the mansion than for friendly ambience.
His eyes raked her up and down before he said, 'Very sexy, but that's the whole point, isn't it?'
'You've deprived me of my own clothes and this was all I could find,' she murmured. 'If I look sexy in your clothes I can't help it. It wasn't done purposely, why should it be? I don't fancy you in the least.'
'You fancy the offer you think I might make for your company though,' he answered, sliding bacon on to two plates and dishing up eggs and tomatoes from a pan on the hob.
'What is that supposed to mean?' She stood by the huge double-doored fridge and watched him warily.
'You use your sexuality in business.'
'I do not!' she protested hotly.
'I refuse to believe you are unaware of it. You know what you have, Alexia, and you use it. How else would a woman running an engineering company survive?' He slid the plates on to a small table in the corner and came back for toast and the freshly brewed coffee he had already poured. 'I'm not knocking you for it. If I were a woman with your looks I'd use them to my advantage too.'
'You're wrong --'
'I'm right. I've heard the rumours. Cool, calculating Alexia, with no men in her life but dressed to kill nevertheless.'
'Rumours don't always have foundation,' she protested.
'Those concerning you do,' he insisted. 'Sit down and eat your breakfast.'
She followed him to the table and sat down. She was hungry, very, but she didn't want to eat. She sipped the coffee and stared painfully at her plate. 'What have you heard?' she asked him.
'What do you want to hear? The good or the bad?'
'Does it matter? You'll tell me all anyway, anything to put me down, anything to get what you want!'
'And when I tell you, you no doubt will slam back with what you've heard about me, which is going to get us precisely nowhere.' He sliced his bacon and watched her as he forked it into his mouth.
Alexia picked up her knife and fork and started to eat. She didn't want to hear what people said about her. She was an only child and when she was eleven her mother had left her husband and daughter to their own devices. Her father had been very bitter and had buried himself in his work. So she'd always been a bit of a loner. She was well aware that her childhood had lacked warmth and love, and when she had taken over her father's company after his death she had been well prepared to take over and control a workforce that was mainly men. Sexuality in business had nothing to do with it. She dressed well, held men at arm's length; how else was she to survive?
'Whatever we think or have heard about each other in the past shouldn't affect our negotiations now,' she said at last. It was a direct contradiction of how she really felt, but someone had to make the first move.
He finished eating, picked up his coffee-cup and cradled it in his hands. 'You're right. It's the first sensible thing that has come from your lips since we met. I hope it was said with sincerity.' He studied her with those deep penetrating dark eyes as if searching for the very sincerity he spoke of.
So he doubted her even now. In a way she admired him for his caution.
'Perhaps we should let bygones be bygones and start all over again,' he suggested quietly.
He put his cup down and held his right hand out over the table to her. 'Hello, Alexia Townsend, pleased to meet you.'
Alexia didn't move, simply held his eyes with her own. She didn't trust him, not even when he was making pleasant overtures now. She had hated him too long for her to wash the feeling down with this morning's coffee. And he despised her too for holding out against him and that couldn't be dissolved over breakfast. He'd mentally tortured her last night, held her here in his home against her will, insulted her sexuality and... and tempted her— heat flushed through her at that thought—and now he was offering her his hand. Very reluctantly she took it. His touch was firm and warm but did nothing to thrill her, not this morning.
'Hello, Harry Masters,' she said softly, 'pleased to meet you. I wouldn't trust you with my small change,' she added, blatantly using the sexuality he had accused her of by way of lowering her voice huskily.
He lifted her hand to his lips and eyed her over his fingers. 'The feeling is mutual, I promise you,' he responded before planting a whisper of a kiss on the back of her hand.
Their eyes were locked in unspoken hostility, their hands clasped in a contact that they both knew hadn't changed a thing. She would never forget the past, the emotional torture he had put her through. Harry Masters released her hand. His eyes still hadn't left hers. Measuring and weighing up her weaknesses no doubt, Alexia thought. Well, she hadn't any, and if it hadn't sunk in yet there was still time.
'I suggest we get down to business, then,' he said abruptly, pushing back his chair and standing up.
Alexia joined him, stood up and faced him across the table. 'I agree, but before you get too excited,' she drawled, 'I think you ought to know that I would like all discussions to take place on neutral ground. I think that is a fair enough request, don't you?'
For the first time she saw real anger in his eyes. This time there was no attempt to disguise it. For some reason her fists clenched, almost instinctively, at her side.
'You feel at a disadvantage here, do you?' he questioned flintily.
'I am at a disadvantage here,' she insisted. 'If you want our negotiations to get under way you must agree to meet somewhere else.'
'In that case I insist on setting the venue.'
Alexia swallowed hard. He didn't give anything away. She let out a small breath. 'All right,' she agreed tightly. 'Where and when? I want to get this sorted out as soon as possible.'
He didn't answer straight away. She thought he might be giving it some thought but she knew him well enough now to cast aside that assumption. He was making her sweat for his answer.
'I'll let you know,' he murmured, infuriatingly non-committal. He raised his hand and looked at his watch. 'Your suit won't be back from the cleaners till four. You're welcome to go home in my clothes if you wish.' He plunged his hand into his jeans pocket and handed her the two sets of her car keys.
Dismissed, just like that. He'd had his fun and now she was of no further use to him. She bridled at his manipulative arrogance. But at least she was free. Free to walk out whenever she pleased, which must be some sort of triumph over him. And he had agreed to meet on neutral ground at her instigation. Alexia clenched the keys tightly in her hand and wondered why she didn't feel exultant that she had won this first round.
CHAPTER THREE
Harry Masters's call came ten infuriating days later, right in the middle of a crucial board meeting.
'Tell him I can't talk now,' Alexia told her secretary and slammed the pho
ne down. Ten days, of all the nerve. Let him wait now.
'This can't go on, Alexia,' Roland Garwood, her company financial director resumed. 'We're facing monetary ruin --'
Damn that phone! Alexia lifted it. 'No calls, April, how many more times --?'
'He insists, Alexia. Says it's now or never.'
She was inclined to scream Never! but the figures they were bandying around the conference table this morning were bad news. It was almost sink or swim time. Much as she regretted having to admit it, she needed Harry Masters to take them over. It was the only way if jobs and careers were to be saved.
'OK, put him through.'
All eyes were on her. All men's. She was used to it but this morning they seemed to bore into her very soul. She swung her chair around and faced the window to take the call; it was rude but she was terrified of giving anything away. Like what? she asked herself in the split second it took for April to put through the call. Nothing emotional, that was for sure, only hatred which she reluctantly conceded must be pretty emotional.
'I'm in the middle of a very important meeting,' she told Harry Masters succinctly, the sharpness of her voice telling him to make it short and sweet.
'Yes. April said you were in the throes of a board meeting...'
April—how familiar already. He didn't waste a second of seduction time with any female.
'... they can be so damningly boring, can't they? Shall I liven this one up for you? You have the most incredible wrap-around legs and your nipples are --'
Heat scorched from every pore of her body. Five sets of male middle-aged eyes bored into the back of her neck.
'What is it exactly you want?' she interrupted stiffly, her nails biting into the upholstered arm of her chair, wishing it were his neck.