by Trish Morey
‘The car will be waiting in half an hour,’ Leo said, returning to the bathroom, a white towel slung perilously low over his hips, and even though she knew what lay beneath, even though she knew what that line of dark hair leading down from his navel led so tantalisingly and inexorably to, she couldn’t look away. Or maybe because of it. ‘Will that give you enough time for that shower you wanted and get dressed?’
And even though she knew this moment was coming, Eve still felt a pang, the fabric of her fantasy starting to unravel, as already she started counting down the minutes. Just thirty of them to go before she turned from one-night lover to a billionaire into long-term single mother. But there was nothing else for it. She nodded. ‘Plenty of time,’ she said.
He offered her his hand rather than the towel she would have preferred and she hesitated, before realising that after the things they’d done together this night, there was no point in being coy. So she rose, taking his hand to prevent her slipping as she stepped out, and taking half the foam with her. Something about the way his body stilled alerted her. She was taller than him now, standing in the raised bath like this, and his eyes drank her in. ‘What is it?’ she said, looking down to see patches of foam sliding down her body and clinging to her breasts, the pink nub of one nipple peeping through. And she looked back to him to see him shaking his head, his dark eyes hot and heavy with desire. ‘Suddenly I’m not so sure it will be anywhere near enough time.’
Something sizzled in her veins, even while her mind said no. ‘You can’t be serious.’
He gave a wry smile as he reached out to brush the offending nipple with the pad of one finger, sending tremors through her sensitive flesh, and he smoothed away more of the suds to reveal patches of skin, piece by agonising piece. ‘It’s still early.’
‘Leo,’ she said, ignoring the pleas her body was making to stay right where she was and stepping out to snap on the shower taps before she could take his words seriously. A torrent rained down from the cloudburst showerhead and she stepped into it, determined to be rid of the bubbles regardless of the water temperature. ‘It’s three o’clock in the morning. I’m going home.’
He peeled the towel from his hips, turned on his own shower. ‘We have all night.’
‘No. I have to go.’ She turned her face away from the sight of his thickening member and up into the stream of water, relishing the drenching. It was cooler than she would normally prefer, but it was helping to clear her mind, helping cool her body down. And very definitely she needed to cool down. What kind of man could make love so many times in one night and still come back for more? When had fantasy ever collided so perfectly with reality? Well, that was apart from the reality she would no doubt be exhausted tomorrow while Sam would be his usual bundle of energy. To day, she reminded herself. He’d be up in a few short hours. She really needed to get home if she was to get any sleep tonight. ‘Besides, you have an important deal to close.’
‘So maybe I can give you a call, pick you up afterwards?’
Her heart skipped a beat and she paused, soap in hand, feeling only the pounding of the cascading water, the thudding of her heart and the flutter of those damned tiny wings. Without turning around, she said, ‘I thought you were planning on leaving for London the minute you concluded the Culshaw deal.’
His mouth found her shoulder, his arms wrapping around her belly, and there was no missing that growing part of him pressing against her back, no missing the rush of blood to tissues already tender. And even though she knew his words meant nothing, nothing more anyway than him wanting a repeat performance in bed, it was impossible not to lean her head back against his shoulder just one last sweet time. ‘I don’t think that would be wise.’ She turned off the water and peeled herself away, reaching for a towel as she exited the shower. ‘We both agreed this was just one night. And while it’s been good, I think, given our working relationship, that it’s better left that way.’
‘Only good?’ he demanded, and she rolled her eyes.
Trust the man to home in on the least important detail of the conversation. He followed her from the stall, swiping his own towel from the rack and lashing it around his hips, not bothering to wipe the beads of water from his skin so that his chest hair formed scrolls like an ancient tattoo down his chest to his belly and below.
Oh, my…
She squeezed her eyes shut. Grabbed another towel and covered her head with it, rubbing her hair frantically so she couldn’t see him, even if she opened her eyes. ‘All right. The sex was great. Fabulous.’
The towel blinding her eyes was no defence against the electric touch of his fingers at her shoulders. ‘Then why shouldn’t we meet again? It’s not as if I’m asking for some long-term commitment.’
That’s just it, she yearned to say. There’s no future in it. There’s nothing but great sex and the longer that happens, the greater the risk that I start to believe it’s about more than that, and I can’t afford to let that happen.
Not when she had Sam…
One night of sin was one thing. But she could not contemplate any kind of affair. What Sam needed was stability, not his mother embarking on a series of meaningless one-night stands, passing him off to whoever could look after him. She shook her head, heading for the bedroom, her clothes and a return to sanity. ‘I can’t sleep with you and work with you at the same time.’
‘So become my mistress instead of my PA.’
She blinked, blindsided once again by the night’s increasingly insane developments, pulling on her underwear in a rush, slipping off the towel to fix her bra, needing the shelter of her dress.
‘Are you kidding?’
‘You’re right,’ he said, without a hint of irony. ‘Who could I get to replace you? So why can’t you be both?’
‘Perfect.’ She slipped into her dress, retrieved her stockings and sat on the end of the bed, hastily rolling them up her legs. ‘I thought you’d never ask. And when you get sick of me being your mistress, you can get me to send myself one of those trinkets you’re so fond of sending to your ex-playmates. I already know where to send it. How efficient would that be?’
‘Evelyn?’
She was busy in her purse, searching for a comb in order to slick back and twist up her wet hair and not finding one. ‘What?’
‘Anyone might think you were jealous.’
‘Jealous? Me?’ She scooted past him back into the bathroom. Pulled a comb from the complimentary supplies boxed up on the vanity, raking it through her hair before twisting it up and securing it with a clip. It was rough but it would do until she got home. She certainly wasn’t going to hang around here, styling her hair or trying to reapply make-up that would just have to come off at home anyway. ‘Jealous of what?’
He leaned an arm up against the door, muscles pulling tight under his skin, making the most of the posture, and she cursed the fact he hadn’t thought to put on anything more than a towel yet. Or maybe that was his intention. To remind her what she’d be missing out on. Well, tough. After tonight she knew what she’d be missing out on. Of course, he was tempting, but there came a time where self-preservation came first.
‘You did make a point about having to send out those gifts to…my friends.’
‘Your ex-lovers, you mean.’
‘You are jealous.’
She shrugged. ‘No. I’ve had my one night with you. Why should I be jealous?’
‘Well, something’s bugging you. What is it?’
She turned toward him then, wishing she could just walk away, sensitive to the fact that she could still be at risk of losing her contract if she angered him but still bothered enough by the riddle that was Leo Zamos to ask. ‘You really want to know?’
‘Tell me.’
‘Okay,’ she started, her eyes taking this last opportunity to drink in the glorious definition of his body, wanting to imprint all she could upon her memory before she left, because after tonight her memories would be all she had. ‘What I don’t understand is you.�
��
He laughed, a rich, deep sound she discovered she liked too much. ‘What’s so hard to understand?’
‘Everything. You’re confident and successful and ultra-rich—you have your own plane, for heaven’s sake!—and you’re a passionate lover and clearly have no trouble finding women willing to share your bed…’ She paused for a moment, wondering if she’d said enough, wondering if she added that he was drop-dead gorgeous and had a body that turned a woman’s thoughts to carnal acts, she would be saying more about herself than about him.
He smiled. ‘That’s it? I’m not actually sure where your problem lies.’
‘No, that’s not it. You know there’s more. People are drawn to you, Leo, you know it. And it’s just that, with everything you have going for you, I don’t understand how it can be that when you feel the need to play happy families, you have to pay someone to pretend to be your fiancée.’
‘You would have done it for free?’ He gave a wry smile. ‘I’ll remember that for next time.’
‘No!’ she said, knowing she was making a hash of it, knowing he was laughing at her. ‘That’s not my point at all. I just don’t understand why you’re in the situation where you need to pretend. How is it that a man with clearly such great appeal to women hasn’t got a wife or a fiancée or even a serious girlfriend? How is that possible?’
The smile slipped as he pushed away from the wall, moving closer, the menacing glint in his eyes putting her on sudden alert. ‘Maybe,’ he said, drawing near, touching his fingers to her brow, tracing a line south, ‘it’s because there is no lack of women willing to share my bed. What is that delightful saying? Why buy a book when you can join a library?’
She stood stock-still, resisting the tremors set off by his merest touch, hating the smug look on his face, forcing a smile to hers. ‘Well, the loan on this particular book just expired. Goodnight, Leo.’
He let her go, at least as far as the door.
‘Evelyn.’
She halted, put her hand on the doorframe to stop herself swaying, and without turning around said, ‘Yes?’
‘Something I tell all the women I spend time with. Something I thought you might have understood, although, given your questions, maybe you need to hear it too.’
She looked over her shoulder, curious about what it was he told his ‘women’, what he thought she needed to hear. ‘Yes?’
‘I like women. I like sex. But that’s where it starts and finishes. Because I don’t do family. It’s not going to happen.’
This time she took a step towards him, stunned by his sheer arrogance. ‘You think I was on some kind of fishing expedition to work out what my chances were of becoming Mrs Leo Zamos for real?’
‘You were the one asking the questions.’
‘And I also said I don’t want to see you again. Which part of “I don’t want to see you again” equates to “Please marry me” exactly?’
‘I was just saying—’
‘And I’m saying you needn’t have bothered. I’m not in the market for a husband as it happens, but even if I were, I’m certain I’d prefer someone who didn’t profess to liking women and sex quite so much!’ She turned on her heel and strode through the bedroom, slipping on her heels and picking up her purse, scanning the room for anything she might have left.
‘Evelyn!’
But she didn’t stop until she was through the living room then, turned, one more question to be answered before she left. ‘I’ll understand if you no longer want to retain me as your PA.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I want to keep you.’
She nodded, relieved, suddenly realising how perilously close she’d come to blowing things. ‘All right. All the best with the deal tomorrow. I guess I’ll be hearing from you in due course.’ She offered him her hand, back to brisk, businesslike efficiency, even if she was dealing with a man wearing nothing more than a towel. ‘Thank you for a pleasant evening, Mr Zamos. I’ll see myself out, under the circumstances.’
One eyebrow quirked at the formality but he took her hand, squeezing it gently. ‘It was my pleasure, Evelyn. My pleasure entirely.’
Minutes later, she sank her head back against the plush leather headrest and sighed as the limousine slipped smoothly from the hotel. Better to end this way, she reflected; better that they had argued rather than agreeing to meet again. Better that it had ended now when anything else would merely have been putting off the inevitable.
For it would have ended, nothing surer, and probably as soon as their next meeting. And then Leo would take off in his jet and find another convenient Evelyn somewhere else in the world, and she would be forgotten.
But now they’d claimed their stolen night, the night they’d been cheated out of by conspiring circumstances those years ago, and it had been an amazing night and she’d managed to survive with both some degree of pride and her job intact. But it was for the best that it had ended on a sour note.
Now they could both put it behind them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SHE grappled with the front-door key, her baby growing heavier by the minute. That or her night of sinful and unfamiliar pleasures had taken it out of her, but the child dozing on her shoulder felt like he’d doubled in size and weight overnight. Then again, maybe he’d just had one too many pancakes. She knew she had. She’d woken this morning after too few hours’ sleep almost ravenous.
She was barely inside the door when the phone started ringing and she picked it up more to shut it up than any desire to talk to whoever was calling. She had less desire to talk when she found out who it was.
‘Evelyn, it’s Leo.’
The sound of his voice sent ripples of pleasure through her, triggering memories formed all too recently to not remember every single sensual detail. She sucked in air, but Leo was the last person she’d expected to call and there was nothing she could think of to say. Hadn’t they said everything that needed to be said last night?
‘Evelyn?’
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the snatches of memory flashing through her mind, the rumble of his murmured words against her thigh, the brush of his whiskered cheek against her skin, his clever tongue…
‘I…I didn’t expect to hear from you.’
‘I didn’t expect to be calling. Look, Evelyn, there’s been a development. Culshaw wants to move the contract discussions to somewhere where the weather suits Maureen better. He suggested we reconvene on his island off North Queensland.’
With the dead-to-the-world weight of her toddler on her shoulder, she battled to work out what it was Leo actually wanted. ‘So you need me to make some bookings? Or do I have to rearrange your schedule?’
‘Neither.’ A pause. ‘I need you to come.’
Sam stirred on her shoulder, his head lolling from one side to the other, and she kissed his head to soothe him. ‘Leo, you know that’s not possible.’
‘Why isn’t it possible?’
‘You said our deal was for one night only and I already told you I wouldn’t meet you again.’
‘But that was before Culshaw came up with this idea.’
‘That’s too bad. I did what we agreed.’ And then, thinking he might better understand it in business-speak, ‘I fulfilled the terms of the contract, Leo, and then some.’
‘So we make a new deal. How much this time, Evelyn?’ he asked, sounding angry now.
‘I told you before, it’s not about the money.’
‘Fifty thousand.’
‘No. I told you, they’re nice people. I don’t want to lie to them any more.’
‘One hundred thousand.’
She looked up at the ceiling, cursing under her breath, trying not to think about what a sum like that would mean to the timing of her renovation plans. She could engage a decent architect, get quotes, maybe landscaping so Sam had a decent play area outside. But it was impossible. ‘No!’
‘Then you won’t come?’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘
So what am I supposed to tell Culshaw?’
‘It’s your lie, Leo. Tell him what you like. Tell him it’s family reasons, tell him I’m sick, tell him I never was and never will be your fiancée. It’s your call.’ On her shoulder her son grew unsettled, picking up on the vibe in the air, butting his head from side to side against her shoulder, starting to grizzle.
‘What was that?’ Leo demanded.
‘Me about to hang up. Are we finished here? Only it’s not really a convenient time to call.’ Please, God, can we be finished here? she prayed as her muscles burned under Sam’s weight.
‘No. I need…I need some documents to take with me!’
‘Fine,’ she said, sighing, wondering which documents they could possibly be when she was sure she’d provided him with everything he needed already and in triplicate. ‘Let me know which ones and I’ll email them straight away.’
‘No. I need them in hard copy. All originals. You have to bring them to the hotel, as soon as you can.’
If she’d had a free hand, it would have gone to her head. ‘I’ve always emailed documents to you before. It’s never been a problem.’
‘I need those documents delivered to me personally this afternoon!’
She sucked in a breath. ‘Okay. I’ll get them couriered over as soon as I can.’
‘No. Definitely not couriered. You need to deliver them personally.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I need them immediately and they’re commercial-in-confidence. I’m not about to entrust them to someone else, not at this crucial stage. You’ll have to bring them yourself.’
When she made no response, she heard, ‘You did say you wanted to keep working with me.’
Bastard! She could take a veiled threat just as well as she could take a hint. She was damned if she’d take more of Leo’s money to pretend to be his fiancée, but right now she couldn’t afford to ditch him as a client. ‘Of course. I’ll bring them over myself.’
‘Good. I’ll be in my suite.’
‘Not there.’
‘What?’
‘I won’t bring them to your suite. I won’t go there again. Not after…’