by Abby Green
‘That was me proving that I do turn you on—and unfortunately proving it to the rest of the world too.’
Lia went still. ‘What do you mean?’
Carter glanced back at something she couldn’t see and then looked at her again. ‘I think we’ve been papped.’
She went cold. The thought of someone witnessing that intensely private moment when she’d been so vulnerable made her want to squirm. It was too much exposure in one night—especially on the heels of how deeply his words had cut when he’d told her exactly what he thought of her: ‘You might not be royalty but you’re a princess.’ She knew that she hadn’t helped matters by reacting so defensively to him, but she was far from some pampered princess, and the fact that his opinion somehow mattered was even more infuriating.
She glared at him. ‘This is all your fault. If you hadn’t pursued me and made that ridiculous bid this wouldn’t have happened.’
He had the gall to shrug one shoulder, and a devilishly sexy smile tipped his mouth up at one side. ‘Sweetheart, I just proved there’s enough electricity between us to power a small nation, so it was inevitable.’
Lia started to pace again, as much to convince herself that her legs were still working as anything else. Then she stopped and looked at him. ‘I’m not your sweetheart, and I’ve had enough. I’m leaving.’
This time he didn’t try to restrain her, he just said with deadly efficiency from behind her, ‘I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.’
Something in his voice made Lia stop. She looked longingly at the entrance to the hotel and felt her neck prickle under his gaze. With the utmost reluctance she turned around and said, as nonchalantly as she could, ‘And why would that be?’
He folded his arms and said, ‘You’ve agreed to the terms of a very public auction and I’m really not joking when I say that I’ll renege on my bid if you don’t fulfil your end of the agreement. You’ll be followed and mercilessly tracked by the paparazzi.’
He took a step closer to Lia and she fought against his physical magnetism. The memory of his tongue, thrusting into her mouth with a kind of possessive intensity was still vivid, and she hated it that it was.
‘And,’ he continued, ‘I know you’re here till after the weekend, and that you have nothing else on your schedule—except presumably shopping. So you have no reason to refuse to take a trip with me.’
His sheer obduracy made Lia want to stamp her foot. As did his casual judgement of her—again. Shopping! Clearly he’d checked up on her—but only at the most superficial level—and the thought of the lengths to which he was prepared to go caught her in her solar plexus before she crushed it. No doubt he’d laugh his head off if she told him that she’d actually planned to go to a series of lectures at NYU on advances in sustainable temporary emergency structures.
This was all just the means to some nefarious end, chemistry or no chemistry. She could see that under his devastating charisma there was a merciless streak, and a sense of futility filled her. Look at what he’d done so far! She didn’t doubt any more that if she walked away then he would take back his one million dollars.
Something about the fact that he thought he had her so neatly squared away in a little box was actually somewhat comforting; he wasn’t anywhere close to seeing the real her. If she had to put up with his overbearing and cocky arrogance for a weekend for the sake of a greater good, then she could do it.
She just wouldn’t be so susceptible again. And she certainly wouldn’t be kissing him again.
Hitching up her chin, she said as icily as she could, ‘It would appear that you leave me no choice in the matter. When do we leave and where are we going?’
Something that looked awfully like triumph flashed in Benjamin Carter’s eyes as he strode towards her and took her arm in his hand again, propelling her forward and saying, ‘There’s no time like the present. We’ll go to your hotel first, so you can pick up some essentials and your passport.’
Lia stopped in her tracks, forcing him to stop too, and he looked back at her, clearly impatient. Mindful of the people around them in the lobby, Lia hissed, sotto voce, ‘Passport? Where on earth are you taking me?’
There was a definite glint of devilry in his eye as he said, ‘Now, that would take all the fun out of it, don’t you think? Don’t worry, Lia, you’ll be quite safe with me.’
She shivered minutely. She was afraid that she’d never been less safe—and it had nothing to do with physical safety...it was the sensual threat he posed and her own weakness to it. She was terrified of the way he made her feel so off balance. Out of control.
Fiercely, she said, ‘Nothing is going to happen this weekend, Mr Carter. No matter what you believe. That kiss was a mistake.’
He smiled, and it was distinctly wolfish. ‘I’ve never had to force a woman into my bed and I’m not about to start. Whatever happens will be completely mutual, I assure you.’
And then, before she knew what was happening, she was being handed her wrap and they were at the entrance of the hotel, where Carter opened the passenger door of a sleek dark grey sports car.
Holding herself rigid as she passed him, she got in with as much dignity as she could and in her head called him every name under the sun as he slammed her door shut and walked around the front of the car with lithe animal grace.
When he slid in beside her, bringing with him that tantalising musky scent, Lia held herself even more rigid. She could feel him glance at her and she stared straight ahead, vowing that with every fibre of her being she would resist this man and keep the vulnerable core of herself intact.
Whatever his game was, she wasn’t interested in playing.
* * *
There had been nothing but a frosty silence interspersed with the barest of monosyllabic answers from the woman who was now curled up in a seat on the opposite side of Ben’s private plane, looking out of the window, with her wrap pulled tightly around her, her hair down around her shoulders. Tousled dark silkiness...
Irritation and something more indefinable lay under Ben’s skin at the thought that she wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t publicly paid a million dollars for the pleasure. But he pushed that aside. She was here now—that was all that mattered.
They’d taken off from a private airfield near Newark about an hour ago, after they’d gone to her hotel suite so that she could collect her passport and some essentials. She’d been about to go into the bathroom to change out of her dress when something perverse had made Ben say, ‘We don’t have time for that.’
She’d looked at him, blue eyes sending a flash of dark icy fire, and then, to give her her due, she’d merely stalked out of the suite, leaving her bags for him to pick up.
She was playing the role of princess to the hilt, and he had no one to blame but himself after he’d called her one. That enigmatic look in her eyes came back to him, the sense that she’d been hurt. His conscience pricked, even as he told himself that the women he knew from her kind of world were hardened.
But he had to admit that she was an intriguing mass of contradictions. Not least of which was the contradiction he’d met while they’d been wearing their masks. He had to acknowledge a little uncomfortably that he had had an advantage, having recognised her from the first moment. He’d intended to tell her who he was, but then she’d been so surprisingly sweet. And flirtatious. Hot. It had been a stark contrast to their first meeting—confirming that he’d never really stood a chance, because she’d gone there only to warn him off.
But then, when she hadn’t realised who he was, he’d been loath to ruin the mood by revealing his identity. Ben scowled now. It wasn’t like him to give in to weak impulses. The whole object of this exercise was to seduce her, and ultimately—possibly—marry her.
Although right now the idea of this woman submitting to a life of domestic bliss with Ben seemed to be a stretch too far, even for his imagination. Surely this was the point when he decided she wasn’t worth the trouble? There was any number of ex-lo
vers who’d made no attempt to hide their desire to become Mrs Carter...and yet Ben found he was curiously reluctant to let Lia go.
He wanted her. And the thought of taming her sharp tongue and making her acquiescent and pliant with desire was more arousing than anything he could remember.
He finally looked away from the disturbing provocation of the woman on the other side of the aisle and yanked at his bow tie, undoing it. He felt petty now, for not letting her change earlier. It wasn’t exactly helping to douse his desire, knowing that just under the slimmest of coverings that tantalising body was—
‘There were no paparazzi, were there?’
Ben jerked his head round to find those cool blue eyes narrowed on him, and saw that her arms were folded. Some of the tension inside him loosened and he turned towards her, seeing how her gaze involuntarily darted down and then back up.
She wanted him. And he would prove it to her.
Feeling only the tiniest prick of his conscience, Ben said, ‘If you remember, I said I thought we’d been papped.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘I can’t believe I fell for it.’
Ben shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. ‘You still wouldn’t have had a choice in the end.’
That lush mouth tightened and Ben had to restrain himself from reaching across to touch it, make it soften. He thought of something then, and said, ‘I like that you’re called Lia. It’s less...rigid.’
Those ivory cheeks flushed. ‘Like I said, that’s for friends and family.’
Ben smiled, enjoying her discomfiture more than he should. ‘I think we’re definitely more than friends now, Lia. I don’t know what you’re used to, but in my world friends don’t kiss the way we did earlier. Lovers...now, that’s a different matter.’
Lia darted a glance behind her, to where the discreet staff were, and then hissed across the aisle, ‘We will never be lovers, Mr Carter.’
Ben ignored that and sat back, extending his legs, making himself comfortable even though the last thing he was feeling was relaxed. ‘There’s a bedroom at the back of the cabin. You should slip into something more comfortable and get some rest. We’ll be in the air for another seven hours at least.’
‘You’re still insisting on not telling me where we’re going?’
Ben glanced at her with mock innocence. ‘And ruin the surprise?’
Her jaw clenched. ‘I don’t like surprises, Mr Carter.’
‘Please, Lia,’ he purred, enjoying himself immensely, ‘call me Ben.’
After a long moment, when she looked as if she was seriously tempted to do him some physical violence, she undid her seat belt and stood up, saying, ‘You’re impossible. This is impossible.’
She took her bag from an overhead locker and the wrap over her dress fell to the floor. Ben let his gaze roam freely over her curves, in particular her pert behind.
She whirled around and he looked up. She grabbed the wrap from him as he picked it up and held it out to her, and said tersely, ‘I’m going to get some sleep. And I don’t want to be disturbed.’
Ben smiled. ‘Please, be my guest.’
Lia walked to the back of the plane, her red dress swirling about her body and those long slim legs. She went into the bedroom and the door was shut forcefully enough behind her to make Ben wince slightly. Then he heard the distinct click of the lock being turned.
His smile slipped from his face as he had to shift his body to accommodate his erection. He felt feral enough to be tempted to go and kick open the door and prove to Lia right now that they were more than friends. But he reminded himself that he was civilised.
After all, he had to acknowledge bitterly, for the first twelve years of his life Ben had been exceedingly civilised. Until everything had changed and the real world had been revealed, like in The Wizard of Oz, when the curtain had been pulled back to expose the truth.
Just then Ben’s phone vibrated and he welcomed the distraction. He took it out of his pocket to see a name flashing on the screen. He smiled mirthlessly and answered, ‘Trakas. Are you missing me and our new friends already?’
‘Hardly,’ came the dry response. ‘The internet is buzzing about you making some outrageous bid at a charity auction and absconding with a British society princess for the weekend. I thought we were trying to improve our reputations, not make them worse.’
Ben looked pointedly at the closed door of the bedroom and said through a tight jaw, ‘Don’t worry, it’s all part of the plan. Elizabeth Young set us up on a date. Was there something in particular you wanted or did you just call to gossip?’
Xander Trakas was silent for a moment, and then he said, ‘And...? How was she?’
Ben frowned. ‘Who? The matchmaker?’
Trakas sounded impatient. ‘Of course.’
Ben felt another pang of his conscience when he thought of what she’d think of his pursuing Lia in spite of her warning. ‘She was fine. Why the hell do you care anyway?’
‘No reason,’ came the swift response, and then the other man said, ‘Later, Carter,’ and hung up.
Ben shook his head and put his phone down, glancing at the shut door again and scowling. He had no idea what was going on between Xander Trakas and the Leviathan Solutions director, but if it was anything close to what he was currently engaged in, then he wished the man luck. From what he’d seen of Elizabeth Young, and her quiet but steely self-possession, he’d need it.
* * *
‘Let me show you around.’
Lia looked suspiciously at Benjamin Carter, who had no right to look so fresh and gorgeous after sleeping in his seat on the plane. He’d changed out of his tuxedo into dark trousers and a black short-sleeved polo shirt, and she was acutely aware of the bunching of his biceps where his arms were folded. He was even more powerful than she’d thought.
Stalling for time, to let her disorientated brain catch up with events, she said, ‘Where exactly are we?’
They’d landed at Salvador International Airport in Bahia, Brazil, about an hour before, and to find out how far they’d come had blown her mind. Then Carter had collected an open-top Jeep and driven them out of the city and along the coast for about thirty minutes. Lia didn’t like to admit that she’d been captivated by the Atlantic sea frothing against miles and miles of pristine beaches.
‘We’re at my private villa, north of Salvador.’
His blue gaze dropped momentarily down her body and Lia regretted not changing when she’d had the chance on the plane. But after pacing in the spacious bedroom for long minutes she’d given in to fatigue and had lain down on the bed, still in the dress. Then, when a peremptory knock on the door had woken her, and a too-familiar deep voice had told her they’d be landing soon, something petty in her had refused to make him feel more comfortable about what he’d done, so she’d emerged still wearing the dress.
But now she felt silly. And self-conscious. It made her say defiantly, ‘What’s to stop me from taking that Jeep and driving back down to Salvador to take the next flight home?’
Her host didn’t look remotely perturbed. ‘Well, I’d have to report it as stolen, and the policia here are very efficient. So there’s really no point.’
The same sense of futility she’d felt in New York sank into Lia’s bones as she had to come to terms with the truth smacking her in the face—she was here for the weekend.
As if reading her mind, her host unfolded his arms and held a hand out, gesturing eloquently for her to take his invitation to look around.
Capitulation wasn’t easy, but after a few seconds of inner struggle she bent down to slip off her shoes—which were now officially killing her. When she straightened, holding the shoes in her hand, she said tightly, ‘As it appears that I have no choice, lead the way.’
Ignoring the fact that she felt a lot more fragile without the added height of her shoes, she followed him deeper into the villa and tried to avert her gaze from that broad back, tapering down to lean hips and tight buttocks.
It was almost
a relief to focus on the furnishings, and with some surprise she took in polished wooden floors and open white shutters allowing the warm breeze to circulate. The rooms flowed into each other, the spaces generous and open.
It was casual, yet elegant without being ostentatious. She noted valuable works of art dotted around the rooms and on the walls. Everything complemented each other. The décor was very much to her own pared-down tastes, which was something she had not expected.
A spacious den was comfortable and inviting, with low coffee tables and a media centre. Huge art and photography books looked well-thumbed, and one wall was shelved and full of books. Her hands itched to explore what was there.
‘Your interior designer is very talented,’ Lia remarked.
A dry-sounding, ‘Thank you,’ made her look at Carter, who had a small smile playing around his mouth. She saw the glint in his eye and then said disbelievingly, ‘No... You designed this?’
‘It’s amazing the amount of taste money can buy.’
His tone was even drier now, and there was something else—an edge she’d noticed before, when she’d accused him of being crass. Now she felt uncomfortable. It was disconcerting to feel for the first time as if she was on the back foot.
‘It’s lovely.’
Wide open French doors led out to the beach. Lia explored a little and her feet sank into deliciously warm and soft sand. The waves of the Atlantic lapped gently and rhythmically against the shore. In spite of herself, something inside her loosened. It had been so long since she’d just...relaxed. Her father’s weak health was such a worry, and he depended on her so much...
‘Careful,’ drawled Benjamin Carter, from too close, ‘or I might think you like it here.’
Immediately any sense of relaxation went out of the window and Lia glared at his back as he led her inside again, through a central open courtyard with a pool that was shaded by palm trees.
He showed her a large kitchen, gleamingly pristine with sparkling utensils and a marble worktop. Placing his hands on the counter, where they looked very large and tanned, he said, ‘This is Esmé’s domain. She’s my local housekeeper and chef. She takes care of the place when I’m not here and opens it up for me. She’ll be in later to cook dinner.’