Fiancee for One Night (5 page)

‘And I want you to practise not jumping every time I do.’

‘I…I’ll try,’ she said, a mist rolling in over her eyes, and he doubted she even realised she was already swaying into his touch.

He smiled as he tilted her chin with his other hand, his thumb stroking along the line of her jaw. ‘You see, it’s not that hard.’

She blinked, looking confused. ‘I understand. I…I’ll be fine.’

But he had no intention of ending the lesson yet.

Not when he had such a willing and biddable pupil. ‘Excellent,’ he said, tilting her chin higher, ‘and now there’s just one more thing.’

‘There is?’ she breathed.

‘Of course,’ he said, once again drawing her closer, his eyes once again on her lips. ‘We just need to get that awkward first kiss out of the way.’

S
HE
barely had time to gasp, barely had time to think before his lips brushed hers, so feather-light in their touch, so devastating in their impact that she trembled against him, thankful for both his solidity and his strength.

More thankful when his lips returned, this time to linger, to play about her mouth, teasing and coaxing and stealing the air from her lungs.

She heard a sound—a mewl of pleasure—and realised it had emanated from the depths of her own desperate need.

Realised she was clinging to him, her fingers anchored in his firm-fleshed shoulders.

Realised that either or both of these things had triggered something in Leo, for suddenly his kiss deepened, his mouth more punishing, and she was swept away on a wave of sensation like she’d only ever experienced once before. He was everywhere, his taste in her mouth, his hot breath on her cheek, his scent filling the air she breathed.

And the feel of his steel-like arms around her, his hard body plastered against her, was almost too much to comprehend, too much to absorb.

It was too much to think. It was enough to kiss and be
kissed, to feel the probing exploration of his tongue, the invitation to tangle and dance, and accept that intimate invitation.

How many nights had she remembered the power of this kiss, remembered what it felt like to be held in Leo’s arms? It had been her secret fantasy, fuelled by one heated encounter with a stranger, but even she had not recalled this utter madness, this sheer frantic expression of need.

It was everything she’d ever dreamed of and more, that chance to recapture these feelings. And then he shifted to drop his mouth to her throat and she felt him, rock hard against her belly, and she shuddered hard against him, a shudder that intensified as he skimmed his hands up her sides and brushed peaked nipples in achingly full breasts with electric thumbs.

She groaned as his lips returned to her mouth, a feather-light kiss that lasted a fraction of a second before the air shifted and swirled cold around her and he was gone.

She opened her eyes, breathless and stunned and wondering what had just happened. ‘Excellent,’ he said thickly. ‘That should do nicely. Wait here. I’ve got something for you.’ He turned and disappeared into the other room. She slumped against the credenza behind her, put her hands to her face and tried not to think about how she’d responded to his kiss exactly like she had the first time. Drugged stupid with desire, shameless in her response to him.

Excellent
? Hardly. Not when in another ten seconds he could have had her dress off. Another twenty and she would probably have ripped it off herself in desperation to save him the trouble. And all because he didn’t want her to be nervous around him! God, how was she
supposed to be anything but, especially after that little performance? Had she learned nothing in the intervening years?

She’d barely managed to catch her breath when Leo returned, a tie looped loosely around his collar, a jacket over his arm, and an expression she couldn’t quite read on his face. Not the smug satisfaction she’d expected, but something that looked almost uncomfortable. When she saw the two small boxes in his hand, she thought she knew why and she didn’t feel any better.

‘Try these on,’ he said, offering the boxes to her. ‘I borrowed them for the night. Hopefully one should fit well enough.’

‘You borrowed them?’ she said, considering them warily, knowing what came in dangerous-looking little blue boxes like those. And if his words were a hint that whatever sparkly bauble she would wear on her finger wouldn’t be hers to keep, it wasn’t terribly subtle. But that wasn’t what bothered her. Rather, it was the artifice of it all, like they were gilding the lie, layering pretence upon pretence. ‘Is this strictly necessary?’

He lifted her hand, dropped the boxes on her palm. ‘They’ll notice if you don’t wear an engagement ring.’

‘Can’t I simply be your girlfriend?’

‘Fiancée sounds much better. All that added commitment.’ He winked as he shrugged into his jacket. ‘Besides, I’ve already told them. Go on, try them on.’

Reluctantly she opened the first. Brilliant light erupted from the stone, a huge square-cut diamond set in a sculpted white-gold band, inlaid with tiny pink diamonds. She couldn’t imagine anything more stunning.

Until she opened the second and imagination took a back seat to reality. It was magnificent, a Ceylon sapphire set with diamonds either side. She had never seen
anything so beautiful. Certainly had never imagined wearing anything as beautiful. She put down the box with the white-gold ring, tugged the other ring free and slipped it on her finger, hoping—
secretly praying
—that it would fit, irrationally delighted when it skimmed over her knuckle and nestled perfectly at the base of her finger.

She looked down at her hand, turning it this way and that, watching the blue lights dance in the stone. ‘They must be worth a fortune.’

He shrugged, as if it was no matter, using the mirror to deftly negotiate the two ends of his tie into a neat knot. ‘A small one, perhaps. It’s not like I’m actually buying them.’

‘No. Of course not.’ He was merely borrowing them for a night to help convince people he was getting married. Just like he was borrowing her.

But even his ruthless designs couldn’t stop her wondering what it must be like to be given such a ring, such an object of incredible beauty, by the man you loved? To have him slide that ring on your finger to the sound of a heartfelt ‘I love you. Marry me,’ instead of,
‘Go on, try them on’.

The sapphire caught the light, its polished facets throwing a dozen different shades of blue, the diamonds sparkling, and she felt her resistance wavering.

With or without the ring, she was already pretending to be something she was not. Could she really make the lie worse than it already was?

‘Very nice,’ he said, lifting her fingers. ‘Have you tried the other one?’

She looked down at the open box, and the pale beauty that resided there. ‘No real need,’ she said, trying to sound like she didn’t care as well as make out that she
wasn’t bothered by his proximity, even though her fingers tingled and her body buzzed with his closeness. ‘This one fits perfectly.’

‘And it matches your eyes.’

She looked up to see him studying her face. ‘You know you have the most amazing eyes, every shade of the sea and more.’

‘Th-thank you.’

He lifted a hand to her face and swiped the pad of his thumb at the corner of her mouth. ‘And you have a little smudge of lipstick right here.’ He smiled a knowing smile. ‘How did that happen, I wonder?’

Instinctively she put a hand over her mouth, backing away. ‘I better repair my make-up,’ she said, sweeping up her evening purse from the coffee table and making for the powder room. How had that happened indeed. She really didn’t need to be reminded of that kiss and how she’d practically given him a green light to do whatever he wanted with her. It was amazing it was only her lipstick that had slipped. Well, there would be no more smudged lipstick if she had any say in it. None at all.

He watched her go, his eyes missing nothing of her ramrod-straight spine or the forced stiffness that hampered her movements. She hadn’t been stiff or hampered a few moments ago, when she’d all but rested her cheek against his hand. She hadn’t been stiff or hampered when he’d held her in his arms and kissed her senseless.

‘Evelyn,’ he called behind her, and she stopped and turned, gripping her purse tightly in front of her chest. ‘Something that might make you feel more relaxed in my company…’

‘Yes?’ She sounded sceptical.

‘As much as I enjoyed that kiss, I have a rule about not mixing business with pleasure.’

She blinked those big blue eyes up at him and he could tell she didn’t get it. ‘I don’t sleep with my PA. Whatever I do tonight, a touch, a caress, a kiss, it’s all just part of an act. You’re perfectly safe with me. All right?’

And something—he’d expected relief, but it wasn’t quite that—flashed across her eyes and was gone. ‘Of course,’ she said, and fled into to powder room.

There. He’d said it. He blew out a breath as he picked up the leftover ring from the coffee table, snapped the box shut and returned it to the safe. Maybe it was, as he had said, to put her at her ease, but there’d also been a measure of wanting to remind himself of his golden rule. Because it had been hard enough to remember which way was up, let alone anything else in the midst of that kiss.

He hadn’t intended it to go so far. He’d meant to tease her into submission, give her just a little taste for more, so she’d be more malleable and receptive to his touch, but she’d sighed into his mouth and turned molten and turned him incendiary with it.

And if he hadn’t frightened her away by the strength of his reaction, he’d damned near frightened himself. He’d had to leave the room before she could see how affected he was, and before he looked into her ocean-deep eyes and decided to finish what he’d started.

He ached to finish what he’d started.

Why did he have that rule about not sleeping with his PAs? What had he been thinking? Surely this was a matter that should be decided on a case-by-case basis.

And then he remembered Inge of the ice-cool demeanour and red hot bedroom athletics and how she’d so neatly tried to demand a chunk of ice for her finger by nailing him with her alleged pregnancy.

There was good reason for his self-imposed rule, he reluctantly acknowledged. Damn good reason.
If only he could make himself believe it.

She didn’t recognise herself in the powder-room mirror. Even after repairing her make-up and smoothing the stray wisps of her hair back into its sleek coil, she still looked like a stranger. No amount of lipstick could disguise the flush to her swollen lips. And while the ring on her finger sparkled under the light, it was no match for the lights in her eyes.

Not when all she could do was remember that kiss, and how he had damn near wrenched out her mind if not her soul with it.

It was wrong to feel excited, even though its impact had so closely mirrored that of the first. But he’d simply been making a point. He’d been acting. He’d said as much himself. It had meant nothing. Or else why could he so easily have turned and walked away?

Yet still she trembled at the memory of his lips on hers. Still she trembled when she thought of how he’d felt, pressing hard and insistent against her belly, stirring secret places until they blossomed and ached with want.

Want that would go unsatisfied. Cheated again. Just an act
. ‘I don’t sleep with my PA.’

And part of her had longed to laugh and tell him that he’d had his chance, years ago, and blown it then. Another part had wanted to slump with relief. While the greater part of her had wanted to protest at the unfairness of it all.

Damn. She’d known this would be difficult. She’d known that seeing him again would rekindle all those
feelings she had been unable to bury, unable to dim, even with the passage of time.

She dragged air into her lungs, breathed out slowly and resolutely angled her chin higher as she made one final check on her appearance. For surely the worst was over. And at least she knew where she stood. She may as well try to enjoy the rare evening out.

How hard could it be?

‘Remember,’ Leo said, as they made their way to the presidential suite, ‘keep it light and friendly and whatever you do, avoid any talk of family.’

Suits me
, she thought, knowing Leo would be less than impressed if she started telling everyone about Sam. ‘What is it exactly that their sons are supposed to have done?’

‘You didn’t see the articles?’

She shook her head. ‘Clearly I don’t read the right kind of magazine.’

‘Or visit the right websites. Someone got a video of them at a party and posted it on the web.’

‘And they were doing something embarrassing?’

‘You could say that. It was a wife-swapping party.’

‘Oh.’

‘Oh, indeed. Half the board were implicated and Culshaw couldn’t stand seeing what he’d worked for all his life being dragged through the mud.’ He stopped outside the suite. ‘Are you ready?’

As ready as I’ll ever be.
‘Yes.’

He slipped her hand into his, surprising her but not so much this time because it was unexpected but because it felt so comfortable to have his large hand wrapped around hers. Amazing, given the circumstances, that it felt so right. ‘You look beautiful,’ he whispered, so close
to her ear that she could feel his warm breath kiss her skin, setting light to her senses and setting flame licking at her core.

It’s make-believe, she warned herself as he tilted her chin and she once more gave herself up to his kiss, this time a kiss so tender and sweet that the very air seemed to shimmer and spin like gold around her. She drew herself back, trying to find logic in a sea of sensation and air that didn’t come charged with the spice of him.

It meant nothing, a warning echoed as he pressed the buzzer. It was all just part of the act. She could not afford to start thinking it felt right. She could not afford to think it was real.

She had just one short evening of pretending this man loved her and she loved him, and then the make-believe ended and she could go home to her falling-down house and her baby son. Alone. That was reality. That was her life.

She should be grateful it was so easy to pretend…

A butler opened the door, showing them into an impressive mirror-lined entry that opened into the massive presidential suite, Eve’s heels clicked on the high gloss parquet floor. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors either side reflected their images back at them, and Eve was struck when she realised that the woman in that glamorous couple, her hand in Leo’s and her eyes still sparkling, was her. Maybe she shouldn’t feel so nervous. Maybe they could pull this off. It had seemed such a crazy idea, and questions remained in her mind as to the ethics of the plan, but maybe they could convince his business colleagues they were a couple. Certainly she had twenty thousand good reasons to try.

‘Welcome, welcome!’ An older man came to meet them and Eve recognised him from the newspapers. Eric
Culshaw had aged, though, she noticed, his silvering hair white at the temples, his shoulders a little stooped as if he’d held the weight of the world on them. Given the nature of the scandal that had rocked his world, maybe that was how he felt. He pumped Leo’s hand. ‘Welcome to you both,’ he said, smiling broadly.