Mr. Temptation

by Rachael Stewart

  She felt the nervous bubble reach her throat and she swallowed, smiling up at him. ‘And this vehicle looks wasted on it too. I was expecting alarms to go off and a group of bank robbers to appear.’

  He laughed. ‘You sound far too excited by that prospect.’

  ‘What can I say? I like to live dangerously.’

  ‘Don’t I know it?’ His eyes flashed with some unknown thought and her pulse leapt. ‘You good to go?’

  She nodded and looked inside the vehicle for the first time, her lips parting as she took in the magnitude of what she was seeing—it was more akin to a private jet than a jazzed-up van, Mercedes or not.

  ‘Wow.’ She stepped inside, scooping up the skirt of her black dress to maintain her modesty as she went and dropping into one of the leather reclining chairs housed inside.

  ‘Wait until you see the back,’ he said, climbing in behind her and magically setting the door to close. The cabin was entirely private, a large flat-screen TV positioned behind the two leather recliners that faced her, a table splitting the middle. It was the height of luxury, the plush furnishing brandishing various sockets, holders, buttons. Windows with full-on blinds, a glass roof that extended the entirety and absolutely not what she would expect.

  ‘This is incredible.’

  ‘If I’d known you’d love it this much I would have used it sooner,’ he said. ‘As it happens I’m only using it now because I’ve come straight from an on-the-road meeting.’

  ‘An on-the-road meeting? People actually have those?’

  ‘It comes in useful when we’re having to visit prospects and need to discuss things in private. It also minimises the downtime due to travel.’

  ‘Makes total sense.’ And then, curiosity getting the better of her, ‘So what’s in the back?’

  ‘A bed.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No, you’re right, it’s just a toilet.’ He grinned, his amber depths flashing brightly. ‘But now I’m wishing it was a bed.’

  His killer smile went to her head, his words making her want, and the mood shifted instantly, the tension palpable. She licked her lips and his eyes dropped to the move, coming back to her dark and loaded, his voice tight. ‘Have you eaten?’

  ‘Eaten?’ she said dumbly. She didn’t want to think about food. Not now. Not when his white shirt hung tantalisingly open at the collar, his tie loose about his neck and pleading with her to reach out and slip it off entirely.

  ‘Yes, you know, food?’ he said, killer smile still teasing, eyes still burning. ‘I can’t have you going hungry.’

  She smiled, her fingers wanting to reach out and pull him in. Yes, the seats were great, plush and comfortable, but they were separate and right now she wanted to be pushed up against him in one inviting seat. ‘I’m good, thank you.’

  ‘A drink—champagne?’

  ‘I shouldn’t, I’m working.’ Not once had she succumbed to alcohol in his presence. Heaven knew where her lowered inhibitions would take her, where her loosened tongue would end up...

  ‘But I’m the client and if I say it’s fine...’ He raised his brow in enthusiastic encouragement and laughter erupted through her.

  ‘You’re incorrigible.’

  ‘Nonsense, I’m about to secure you two massive sales—you deserve a celebratory drink.’

  About to... He’d chosen.

  Back came the panic, her insides quivering, and she tried to suppress it.

  It’s good for the business, it’s good news, focus on that.

  ‘Does this mean we don’t need to have these viewings this afternoon?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

  ‘No,’ he said, pressing a button in the panel alongside him and causing the table to retract, unveiling a fridge beside her. He bent and opened it, his arm brushing her lower leg and sparking a frisson of excitement, but it died as it hit the chill she couldn’t stop from spreading.

  What did he mean by no?

  If he was done, then they were done?

  She watched him, her emotions holding her silent and still. He extracted two glasses and a bottle of champagne with a stopper in place.

  He’s already opened it—he’s already planned this. They really were done and he wants to celebrate it.

  So what? You still have tonight—that’s not a property viewing, that’s a date.

  That has to count as something of a future after this viewing is all done with.

  She was clutching at straws, but she had to, the alternative something she couldn’t bear to think on...

  He settled into the seat opposite her and offered her a glass. ‘We definitely need those viewings.’

  Okay, so he hasn’t decided.

  Or has he?

  Christ, she was a confused mess.

  She took the glass and waited for him to pour it, the bubbles taking an age to die back so he could top it up, and once he had she didn’t wait for a toast, she took a swig and prayed the alcohol would do something to sort her out. ‘So why the celebrating now?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m trying to give you a rational reason for enjoying a drink that works to your professionalism.’

  Thank Christ for that.

  Her head swam, her lips wrapping around the glass once more as she took another healthy sip. ‘What I’m really wanting to do is enjoy a drink with you, spend an afternoon viewing, an evening schmoozing, and then take you home to my bed.’

  Her pulse rocketed. ‘Your bed?’

  He met her gaze head-on, his darkened depths penetrating her own. ‘Yes.’

  Her heart soared—they’d done many a thing, but sharing the night wasn’t one. ‘Sounds perfect.’

  She took a sip, smaller this time now that the panic had subsided, and he mimicked her, their eyes locking above their glasses, the air turning hot and thick.

  How are you ever going to let this go?

  She let the liquid soothe, its chilling effect sliding down her throat, her thoughts calming with it.

  It’s okay, you can handle this. You’ve gone in with your eyes open; you can let go when the time comes. You can.

  ‘So, Mayfair?’ he prompted.

  ‘Yes, Mayfair first,’ she said, ‘and then I have an outsider to follow.’

  ‘Another of your risky ones?’

  She grinned. ‘It’s good to mix it up a little.’

  ‘And where is it? This outsider?’

  Her grin grew; she was already anticipating his reaction as she said, ‘We’re going south of the river.’

  He almost spluttered on his drink. ‘I may be relatively new to living in London, but even I know one doesn’t live south of the river on my budget.’

  ‘You didn’t seem to mind being south of the river a couple of weeks back.’

  He frowned over her comment and she bit the inside of her cheek, hating the jealousy that erupted over the brain-imprinted image of him at The Shard, pressed up against that blonde.

  You’re a fool to take him there.

  You’re an even bigger fool if you don’t.

  The inner battle that had raged since she’d secured the viewing came back with force and she shot it down. She had a job to do above all and the property demanded a viewing; it was something else. And as for her feelings, they could just do one.

  ‘So where’s the harm?’ she asked lightly, keen to get back to comfortable ground.

  ‘You tell me.’

  Her pulse skipped—shit.

  He wasn’t referring to the property; she could tell it in the softness of his tone, in the pinched look to his brow. He’d read her jealousy in the force of her response and was wanting her confirmation. Was it a test? Was he gauging just how much she’d crossed the line and let her feelings get personal?

  You idiot!

  ‘There is none,’ she said, her recovery delay
ed but firm enough—you’ve got this. She stroked a hand over her hair, her smile turning suggestive as she added, ‘And I’ll prove it to you, if you let me take you there.’

  He was quiet, his eyes scanning her face, and then his mood lifted, his own lips quirking. ‘In that case, I can’t wait.’

  * * *

  ‘I’m really not sure we need to see the property south of the river,’ he said truthfully, scanning her tablet and the details of the property they’d just left.

  They were back in the Sprinter, his attention split between the impressive house he’d just seen, and the allure of the woman sitting before him. Legs crossed, the black skirt to her dress giving away far too much for the desire-filled fog to vacate his brain. It wasn’t so much the perfection in the house they had just seen wanting him to end their viewings for the day, but his desire not to waste another second with her.

  Somewhere a clock of his own making was ticking, ramping up a desperation that he could barely comprehend, let alone quash. He knew their relationship had shifted into unknown territory, that it wasn’t just sex any more. And if it wasn’t just sex, then what was it?

  She turned to him now, eyes and lips smiling as she sipped at a fresh glass of champagne. ‘You liked it, then?’

  ‘What’s not to like? It has the space, the roof terrace, the parking, a gym, swimming pool, sauna, lift...’ He was just reeling off the brochure now, but truth was, it fitted the bill. There was no denying it. ‘And best of all, no hassle of a chain, so why bother with the next?’

  ‘Because you should weigh up your options, especially when they come with such a hefty price tag.’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s what I’d expect.’

  ‘I know, and I’m glad you liked it. It means I’m doing a good job.’

  ‘Oh, you’re doing an excellent job.’

  ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re not wholly talking about the property hunt?’

  He held up his hands. ‘I’m not dismissing your abilities as an estate agent whatsoever. You’ve found Julia a home already and this, well, this is spot on,’ he said, placing the tablet onto the table. ‘So what say you to sacking off the next viewing and filling our time in other, more pleasing ways?’

  She considered him, rolling the stem of her champagne glass between her fingers. ‘I want you to see the next one.’

  ‘You do?’

  She nodded.

  ‘You really do?’

  She nodded again and he spied that same spark in her eye, the one that she got when something about a property got to her. Kristus, there was no denying her, not when she looked at him like that.

  ‘Fair enough,’ he said, sitting back in his seat and telling himself to behave. He’d have her soon. Plenty of times over. They had the whole night ahead.

  But then what?

  His gut twisted. He couldn’t string her along for ever. She had commission to earn and, hell, he’d seen half of London already—or he might as well have. But it was the properties that were keeping them together. No properties, no agent. No agent, no Zara.

  It doesn’t have to be that way, you idiot.

  He looked across at her—every perfect angle to her face; the hair that had fascinated him from day one; those soft, full lips that even now glistened with traces of champagne and gloss; her eyes that sparkled with her own private joke—and he felt his heart squeeze even as his gut twisted tighter. Fear, confusion and an alien desire that had nothing to do with sex, and everything to do with wanting to be in her company, always.

  He now lived every day to see that perfect exterior break with a smile, a laugh, an orgasm that he had driven... What would every day look like when that was no longer possible?

  ‘You okay?’ she asked, her smile turning into a frown, her eyes warm with concern as she leant towards him.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, too quickly, sending his eyes back to the window and his thoughts to the gutter.

  It’s just great sex; she’s addled your brain with it.

  Because what was the alternative? Feeling something for her? Loving her?

  It wasn’t possible, surely? He’d spent his life avoiding the strings that had seen his family torn apart. Could she really have changed him that much in so little time?

  And what if she hadn’t? What if it was just some weird emotion driven by the finite time frame they’d given themselves? And once that was lifted, he hurt her, just as his parents had done to one another? Just as Edward had done to Julia? Kristus, even Charles had done it to her.

  He couldn’t run that risk. Not with her.

  But could he walk away?

  He knew the answer in his gut and it terrified him.

  * * *

  She didn’t care that he wasn’t keen; she wanted to show him this place. She’d not seen it herself yet. It was an empty shell ready for someone to make their mark. And she’d busted a gut to gain access.

  They passed the main foyer in silence, her doing her damnedest to ignore the physical reminder of that photograph taken against the very same glass. She nodded to the staff as they greeted them both and headed straight for the residential access, using the key card she had obtained earlier that morning to gain entry and open the awaiting lift.

  ‘How did you manage to arrange this?’ He was standing directly behind her, his awe evident, and she smiled. ‘When you said south of the river, I hadn’t thought you meant here. I heard the place was in some weird lockdown, impossible to view, even more impossible to buy.’

  Her smile grew. She knew the intrigue would appeal, had known her ability to get him in would impress. The boost to her ego contended with the champagne in her blood and she entered the lift, her footing light. ‘That’s for me to know,’ she said secretively, directing the lift to the penthouse and sending him a look beneath her lashes as the lift doors closed behind them. ‘And you not to find out.’

  He grinned down at her, his hand coming to rest in the crook of her back and sending heat radiating through her. ‘You sure about that?’

  ‘Hmm.’ The delicate scent of flowers filled the air and she inhaled softly. ‘Isn’t the smell beautiful?’

  He bowed his head close to hers. ‘All I can smell is you, laced with champagne.’

  A shiver rippled through her, excitement surging as the lift ascended, the effect dizzying as she felt herself arch instinctively over his palm, her head angling up to him. ‘Concentrate.’

  It was all she could manage to get out. She wanted him to enjoy this viewing, not her, not yet. Despite every screaming nerve wanting the latter.

  He chuckled, the sound resonating through her core, a low ache kick-starting deep within.

  ‘I am concentrating,’ he said thickly, his head dropping to draw her lower lip into his mouth, his tongue sweeping tantalisingly across before he released her. ‘And I like what I see...’ His hands came around her front. ‘What I feel...’ He smoothed a palm over her thigh, gathering up the skirt of her dress, his other brushed up her torso. Blood rushed through her body, the ache swelling in her belly, her breasts, her nipples perking in anticipation of his touch.

  She leant back into him, feeling him press against her, his solid girth making the throb between her legs fierce. ‘I like what I feel too,’ she whispered up to him as he stroked beneath her breast and the top of her thigh in unison, each caress designed to tease, to provoke, sending her body into a sensitised mass as she shuddered against him.

  ‘I love how responsive you are.’ As he said it his fingers trailed over one pleading nipple. ‘I could lose my mind just watching you come.’

  He swirled around the hardened peak, his caress maddeningly light. Her eyelids fluttered as her head fell back against his shoulder, and then she saw it, the camera—shit!

  She had no idea whether they were functioning, no idea who was monitoring them. As far as she was aware these apartments
were uninhabited, but it wasn’t worth the risk to her reputation, to her relationship with the Qatari owners.

  She righted against him, turning to face him. ‘Big brother could be watching.’

  Her eyes flitted up and to the right, gesturing to the camera behind her, and he followed her move. ‘Thought you liked living dangerously.’

  She laughed. ‘There’s living dangerously and then there’s committing career suicide.’

  He shook his head, his disappointment clear as his hands dropped to discreetly adjust himself, and hunger gnawed at her, his obvious hardness threatening her resolve. She averted her gaze—behave.

  The lift came to her aid, the ground shifting beneath them to announce its arrival and the doors sliding smoothly open. She stepped out and stopped, the awe-inspiring sight freezing her to the spot. Even she wasn’t prepared for this.

  ‘Now that’s something,’ he said behind her, reminding her of her place, her role.

  ‘Isn’t it just?’ she murmured, making herself move, leading him through the sparse room straight to the glass-walled edge. ‘We’re seven hundred and fifty-three feet up, making it the highest home in London, the highest in Eastern Europe in fact.’ She trailed her fingers along the glass as she followed it round, losing herself in the breathtaking view, London’s famous landmarks and the sea beyond. ‘Can you imagine it at night?’

  ‘It’s pretty spectacular right now.’

  ‘It’s certainly a blank canvas to do with what you will,’ she said, reaching a glass door that opened out onto what would be garden, a sunken plunge pool ready to be filled, a viewing platform.

  He came up behind her, his body brushing against her back. ‘There’s something exhilarating about being so high up, don’t you think?’

  She nodded against him, a slight pressure buzzing in her head, her blood pumping that bit faster. Was it the height? Or was it because his erection was back at her hip?