by Abby Green
That realisation sent a shard of panic to her gut, and with a rush Lia started to speak. ‘Look, Mr Carter—’
The words dried up when he held out his hand and smiled, drawing her gaze helplessly to his mouth. A full lower lip and a slightly thinner upper lip—diminishing any prettiness and giving him that sensual edge that made her aware of him in a way that no man had ever made her feel before. Certainly not her ex-fiancé.
‘Forgive me. I never introduced myself properly, I’m Benjamin Carter.’
A lifetime of manners being drummed into her by her father and strict boarding schools couldn’t let her ignore his hand. She reached out, intending it to be a sterile and quick transaction, but the first thing that registered when his hand encompassed hers was a surprising roughness, which only reinforced her impression of him being less civilised than he looked.
She felt a pulse throb between her legs...her intimate flesh reacting to his touch. It was so powerful that she pressed her thighs together, and her fingers tightened reflexively around his in reaction as she said faintly, ‘I’m Julianna—Julianna Ford.’
* * *
As slim, feminine fingers tightened around his all Ben could think about was how it would feel when other, more intimate muscles would tighten around a more sensitive part of his anatomy. He’d never had such an immediately carnal response to a woman, but the feel of her slimly curvaceous body colliding with his outside the hotel had had an impact he couldn’t ignore.
He’d seen her from across the street, an intent look on her face, a small frown between her eyes. And then, as her long legs had closed the distance between them, he’d been too mesmerised by her graceful movements to budge an inch.
And then she’d cannoned straight into him.
The lush imprint of her soft breasts against his chest was still vivid. As soon as their bodies had collided lust had hit him like an injection of adrenalin to his heart. And it hadn’t been one-sided; he’d seen the effect on her too. Those widening shocked eyes. Her cheeks flooding with colour. Her hands tightening around his arms. She was tall enough for him to have just dipped his head down slightly to claim that provocative mouth, if he’d so wished.
And now he was drowning in dark blue eyes, glossy dark brown hair, pale ivory skin and that mouth, so sweetly curved it was all he could do not to sweep the table to one side and devour her right here.
She was stunning. Exquisite.
And she was pulling her hand back from his now with a little tug. He let her go, reluctantly.
A waiter came to take their drinks order. Julianna appeared flustered for a moment, and then quickly ordered a bourbon on the rocks. Ben ordered a soda water.
When they were alone again Ben dragged his mind out of the carnal gutter and said, ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.’
She looked at him and his blood surged south and his flesh hardened. Ben cursed the rush of rogue hormones. It wasn’t even as if she was wearing anything overtly provocative. A pale silk shirt that was buttoned to her throat and a dark pencil skirt. Discreet make-up and jewellery. High heels. Classic. Elegant. But as far as his libido was concerned she might as well be naked.
‘Look—’ she said, but was cut off when the waiter returned with their drinks, setting them down.
Ben noticed that she took a swift sip of the amber liquid before putting the glass down again.
She appeared edgy all of a sudden, and he made allowances for the fact that she was nervous, saying, ‘I believe you’re only here for a week? You’re based in London?’
She swallowed and his eyes followed the movement. Even that small movement was graceful. Her refined elegance was impacting upon him somewhere deep. And it surprised him. He’d long ago rejected the cool upper-class beauties who thronged around him—drawn by the hard shell he knew he wore, hewn over years of hard graft as he’d remoulded himself into something much more durable. He knew they were attracted to the rough edges he’d acquired. They didn’t want to know he’d once been one of them. They only wanted the thrill of thinking they were with someone vaguely dangerous. Rough. Someone whose industry was gritty. Base.
He took pleasure in rejecting them because he rejected that world—and yet here he was, sitting mere inches away from a woman who could put all those other society bitches in the shade with a mere arching of her elegant brow. And his blood was pumping so hard and so hot he could hardly think straight.
She looked at him and dark tendrils of hair trailed over her shoulders like silk. ‘I...yes, I’m based in London. So, to be perfectly honest, I think this date is pretty redundant.’
It took a second for her cut-glass English accent to sink in—and her words. And then they did...along with the very cool expression on her face.
Ben blinked. ‘So why agree to a date if it’s redundant?’
Her gaze narrowed and she took a deep breath, and despite the sudden chill in the air Ben’s gaze helplessly dropped down to take in the press of those luscious breasts against the thin silk of her blouse.
‘Because I wanted to meet you face to face and tell you that I know you met my father before, when you tried to take him over.’
Ben’s gaze snapped back to her dark blue one. The heat in his blood simmered, not diminishing under the positively frosty vibes she was sending his way now. He hid his surprise that she’d registered the connection and shrugged nonchalantly. ‘It’s a small world.’
She sounded bitter. ‘Evidently too small.’ She took another sip of her drink, her fingers pale around the heavy glass.
Ben tensed. ‘What exactly are you saying?’
Now she looked almost angry, with two spots of colour coming into her pale cheeks. ‘What I’m saying, Mr Carter—’ she put heavy emphasis on his name, as if he might still be under any illusion that things weren’t deteriorating rapidly ‘—is that, based on your previous history with my father, you can’t seriously expect me to believe that this date is pure coincidence?’
Ben thought of how mesmerised he’d been by that photo of her and felt exposed. Her cynicism shouldn’t have surprised him, but somehow it did. He was on high alert now. Carefully, he said, ‘I can’t say that it’s pure coincidence, no. I am aware of who you are—who your father is.’
She smiled, but it was hard. ‘And so you saw an opportunity and grabbed it?’
Ben forced a smile too, in some kind of an effort to try and relieve the tension. ‘Evidently you joined the Leviathan agency because you’re interested in dating, I would have thought the fact that we have something in common is a good conversation-starter.’
Julianna’s eyes glittered like dark sapphire jewels. ‘Well,’ she said coolly, ‘I’m afraid I have no interest in starting any kind of conversation with you, Mr Carter. I came here merely to inform you of that, in case you’d be left in any doubt.’
With that, she downed the rest of her drink in one go and gathered up her bag, which was on the seat beside her.
She stood up and looked down at him. ‘And as for my father—his position has not changed, so I suggest you seek your opportunities elsewhere. Thank you for the drink, Mr Carter, I’ll see myself out.’
Before Ben could fully process what was happening she was hitching her bag strap onto her shoulder and walking away from the table.
Ben finally stood up, his reflexes dulled, thanks to shock, and was just in time to see the anxious-looking maître d’ helping her with her overcoat. Then she was walking out of the bar without a backward glance.
Ben looked at his watch incredulously. The date had lasted less than fifteen minutes.
He sat down again, her haughty accent reverberating in his head. ‘I suggest you seek your opportunities elsewhere.’ If it wasn’t so disturbing it would be funny, but the fact was that her father had been the furthest thing from his mind until she’d brought him up.
Julianna Ford, with her glacial dark blue eyes and her upper crust accent, had just pulled the rug out from under Ben’s feet. And it was only now that he ful
ly registered that last look she’d sent him—disdainful and dismissive. As if he wasn’t fit to clean her shoes.
Ben signalled for the bill. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that and, even though he knew he should be writing Julianna Ford off as a spoilt rich bitch, his blood still ran hot. Hot with lingering lust, and hot with irritation that she’d lodged herself so neatly under his skin so quickly.
To say this date had morphed into something out of all expectations was an understatement.
Ben was grim as he walked out just seconds later. No one took him by surprise—certainly not a woman. And definitely not a woman he wanted.
* * *
Lia was still trembling from an overload of adrenalin as the yellow cab took her to her Central Park hotel. And her head felt light with the effects of the alcohol she’d drunk too quickly. It had provided the Dutch courage she’d needed, though, to say what she’d had to say to the most intimidating man she’d ever met.
Even now she could picture him lounging on the other side of the table, all sleek hard muscle and broad shoulders, sheathed in that suit that had done nothing to disguise his crackling virile energy. That sexy smile playing around his mouth.
She couldn’t really believe she’d found the wherewithal to stand and look down at him and deliver those parting words, or that she’d managed to walk out on rubbery legs. She’d been terrified they’d buckle underneath her before she could make it to the door.
She knew she could project an icy veneer of confidence when she needed to—it was a skill she’d honed after her mother had left, when Lia had overheard her saying cuttingly, ‘Of course I’m not taking Lia with me. What can I do with a child who stutters and stammers and blushes every time someone looks at her?’
Even now, all these years later, Lia still felt the faint burn of shame mixed with humiliation. Her father’s subsequent over-lavishing of attention and love upon her hadn’t been able to remove the scar of that rejection, but Lia had never stuttered or stammered again from that day on. The blushing, though... She put a hand to her cheek and it felt hot. Seemingly she still had little control over that.
At least Benjamin Carter had stayed in his seat. The thought of having to say those words to him if he’d uncoiled to his full intimidating height made her throat go dry.
She might—hopefully—have convinced him that he was less interesting than the fungus growing under a rock, but her throbbing pulse told her that he was far from uninteresting to her. And, as successfully as she might have delivered her put-down, that was the real reason why she’d all but run from the hotel, stumbling to a stop outside in the cool autumn air, gulping for breath as if she’d just run a marathon, her heart still pounding.
Thankfully the doorman had hailed her a cab straight away and they were pulling up outside her hotel now. Lia paid and tried not to run into the hotel, feeling irrationally as if a large hand might land on her shoulder at any moment.
The fact that the whole encounter with the construction mogul had veered way out of her control was not something she was going to dwell on. If she had had any tiny doubt that his request to meet her had been entirely innocent, it had been blasted apart by his poker-faced reaction when she’d told him she knew who he was and about his previous encounter with her father. He’d been unapologetic, that incisive gaze reading her reaction like a hawk.
So she was glad she’d gone there and met him. She’d done what she’d set out to do, leaving him in no doubt as to what she thought of any plan he might have to pursue her father.
Or her.
Lia ignored the weirdly hollow feeling in her belly and stepped into a blessedly empty lift. And as for her very unwelcome physical reaction...? The way she still felt jittery, as if her skin was too tight, too hot...? That was just the lingering after-effects of adrenalin.
A sense of futility rose up inside her, a hint of remembered humiliation. After all, she was frigid, wasn’t she? She’d been told that in no uncertain language by the only man she’d ever slept with. And she had the memories of how her body had failed miserably to respond to his lovemaking to back it up. So he must be right.
The lift doors opened and Lia stepped out into the plushly carpeted corridor. As she let herself into her room she ruthlessly pushed down a very alien sense of something that felt awfully like...yearning.
* * *
Ben was back in his vast loft-style apartment a short time later. Sirens pierced the air from far below in the vibrant Meatpacking District, but he was oblivious. Pacing the floor. He’d taken off his jacket and tie, feeling constricted. His head was still full of Julianna Ford, and her cooler than cool aristocratic beauty. The memory of that haughty accent and the way she’d so icily dismissed him made him want to see her come undone, hear her voice hoarse from screaming his name.
Dammit. Since when had he grown such an active imagination?
But something else niggled at him—her hostility, and her immediate leaping to the conclusion that his motivation to date her had something to do with her father. Ben’s conscience niggled, but he pushed it down—he hadn’t tried to pretend to Julianna that he was unaware of who she was. He just hadn’t mentioned it up front.
He thought again of how absent her father had been from view in the last few months and Julianna Ford’s actions took on a much more intriguing light. She’d been...protective—and why would she feel the need to be protective unless her father was ill...weak?
Just then his phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out, scowling when he saw the name Elizabeth Young on the screen.
When he answered she spoke straight away, sounding disapproving, ‘I don’t know what happened between you and Julianna Ford but she’s instructed me that she doesn’t want to meet with you again and to take her profile out of my portfolio.’
That made Ben feel simultaneously annoyed at the confirmation that she didn’t want to see him again, and pleased that she obviously wasn’t eager for a date with any other man. Also, it confirmed his suspicion that she had something to hide...some vulnerability. Because she perceived him to be a threat.
The unmistakable instinct to take up a challenge coursed through his blood. ‘It’s unfortunate that the date didn’t go well, but I’ll take it from here.’
Elizabeth Young was sharp. ‘This is not how I conduct my business, Mr Carter. You can’t pursue her if she’s specifically requested not to see you again.’
Irritation prickled at this reiteration that she didn’t want to see him again—and at the implication that anyone could tell him what to do. But Ben realised that he couldn’t afford to alienate this woman. She was the key to all their futures. Except right now he was determined to take his future into his own hands.
‘You can rest assured, Miss Young. I won’t pursue her again through your agency.’
There was silence for a moment, and then Elizabeth Young said, ‘Thank you. If and when you’re ready to date again we can set up another appointment. But, Mr Carter, I have to warn you that I won’t tolerate anyone alienating my clientele.’
Once again Ben had to admit to a grudging sense of respect for the straight-talking matchmaker. Intimidated by powerful men she obviously was not. He said, ‘Julianna Ford and I had a clash of personality—that’s all. It happens from time to time. If I need you again I’ll call you. Goodbye, Miss Young.’
Ben terminated the call, filled with resolve. A clash of personality it might have been, between him and the lustrous dark-haired British beauty, but electricity had sizzled between them, no matter how icy her demeanour. He knew Julianna Ford was here for a charity function, and New York could be a surprisingly small place when you moved in certain circles. If they happened to meet again it wouldn’t be via Elizabeth Young, as he’d assured her.
Ben made a call on his phone, issuing curt instructions to his assistant on the other end. He told himself that the spiking of anticipation in his blood had more to do with the fact that Julianna Ford represented a chance to
achieve his public and professional redemption and less to do with the fact that she’d intrigued the hell out of him with her frosty attitude—or the fact that he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman.
CHAPTER TWO
THE FOLLOWING EVENING Lia surveyed herself critically in the full-length mirror of her hotel suite. The long evening dress was far more revealing than she liked, with its sleeveless plunging neckline and thigh-high slit, and also, if that wasn’t enough, the vibrant blood-red colour.
But, as much as she squirmed to show so much flesh, she knew that it would be effective as a means of deflecting attention from the fact that her father was conspicuous by his absence at the charity auction he’d been due to attend in one of Manhattan’s glitziest hotels.
She was also due to attend on her own behalf, because the charity—which helped crisis-stricken regions to begin rebuilding—was close to her heart.
She’d spoken to her father briefly and had been somewhat reassured. He was sounding a little perkier than he had in recent days. But this last stroke, albeit mild, had given them both a fright.
She’d told him that she’d gone on a date, and he’d been so delighted that she’d felt bad when she hadn’t revealed who her date had been. The last thing he needed was to hear Benjamin Carter’s name. Like her, he’d inevitably jump to the conclusion that he had ulterior motives—because the vultures were circling, just waiting for their chance to step in and make the most of Louis Ford’s weakness.
Lia had confirmed it for herself when she’d done an internet search on Benjamin Carter late last night—unable to sleep because a leanly handsome face with piercing blue eyes had kept her awake.
She’d come across a recent paparazzi photo of Benjamin Carter together with three of the world’s most notorious playboy tycoons and renowned business rivals. Xander Trakas, Dante Mancini and Sheikh Zayn Al-Ghamdi—all names that were indelibly linked to vast fortunes, beautiful women and an aversion to commitment.