Melting Ms Frost (15 page)

She’d felt desperate, too. That’s why she’d bought the wine, to try to numb the unwanted feeling. But drinking more had only amplified the need. By the time she’d staggered to bed, she’d been able to think of nothing but Aidan Flynn. Trying to shame herself out of her thoughts by recalling how mortifying it had felt to be caught fantasising over the size of his fingers had only served to renew her fascination. It had been so long since anyone had touched her – since she’d thought of touching herself – that before she knew it her own hand had crept down to slip under the waistband of her pyjamas.

‘Because believe me,’ Aidan’s voice continued in a growl. ‘If I’d let myself touch you, I wouldn’t have been able to stop.’

The truth of it was there in his eyes, piercing straight into her. Shocking, thrilling – leaving her in no doubt that he’d have crossed almost every line of decency right there in public and not given a damn.

‘I’ve never denied that I want you. Or found any shame in admitting that I’ve fantasised about you. Why can’t you bring yourself to do the same?’

He was relentless, ruthless. And it took all of Annabel’s waning strength not to think of the powerful image of him pleasuring himself to thoughts of her. As keeping him at bay on a personal level seemed to be getting harder, she fought to keep a professional distance.

‘What would be the point? I don’t get involved with my staff members, remember? Especially not ones with secret ties to my boss.’ She couldn’t bear to contemplate the damage it would do to her career if anyone found out – not to mention the hold he’d have over her.

‘And I don’t take no for an answer, remember?’

‘Well, you’re going to have to. I value my job too much to risk it.’

‘And I value the chance to have you too much not to take the risk.’

How very noble that sounded. ‘Remind me what risk that is, exactly? You’re
related
to the owner. I don’t see that you have all that much to lose.’

‘And yet of the two of us, I’m the one in receipt of a final official warning, about to be cast out into the street.’

And Annabel was even less sure how to proceed with that situation after Richard Landon’s phone call. However things were going to play out, it was better right now if he didn’t see her doubt.

‘Why do you have to argue every single thing?’ she deflected.

‘I could ask the same of you.’

She ground her teeth to keep from screaming in exasperation. ‘I’m not arguing, I’m saying no. Why not make life simple for yourself – try using your charms on someone who actually finds the Tarzan type appealing. Someone like Donna, perhaps?’ she suggested, remembering the way she’d caught the waitress looking at him. ‘She seems much more your type. I bet she’d be an easy catch.’

‘I don’t want easy. I want complicated and interesting. I want you.’

She gave a frustrated sigh. ‘Only for the challenge of winning—’ and as she said the words the light bulb finally went off in her head. Of course! Recalling Donna’s mild-mannered, yet unrequited pining, it all suddenly became so simply, gloriously clear that Annabel wanted to face-palm herself for not having worked it out sooner.

The thrill of the challenge. The trophy hunt. That’s what this whole thing was about for Aidan Flynn. He’d even told her as much early on – doormats didn’t do it for him. That’s why Donna all but serving herself up on a plate didn’t stir the slightest reaction from him. That’s why every effort Annabel made to resist just increased his resolve.

She stared at him across the bar as though seeing him for the first time, noticing that while his lips continued to move, the sound of his voice was muffled by the electric buzz of that brain bulb glowing brighter with each passing second.

‘Annabel?’ He raised his voice loud enough to be heard over the buzz, but not enough to distract her from the truths now plainly illuminated. Like an idiot, she’d been going about this all wrong – right from the start when Aidan Flynn had swept into her life with the force of a whirlwind and she’d let him catch her off guard, blow her right off balance with his shock tactics—

‘Annabel.’

—Well, it was past time for a change of plan. Surely the fastest way to make him lose interest in her would be to appear to give in. Stop putting up a fight. Metaphorically roll herself out at his feet with the word ‘Welcome’ stamped across her forehead.

Yes. She could see how that would work. Eager to find out how
he
liked being caught off guard for a change, she pulled out some shock tactics of her own. Arranging her features into a smile, she put all the sweetness and softness and docility into it that she could gather, trying to replicate the ingratiating, adoring expressions she’d seen women like her mother and Donna use.

She tried not to smirk as Aidan Flynn physically flinched away from her. ‘Everything all right?’ he asked roughly with a frown descending to shadow that sharp stare of his. ‘Are you feeling ill again?’

‘What?’ Annabel felt the smile falter.

‘Do you need me to get you a bucket? You’re suddenly looking a bit peculiar.’

The smile dropped and she only just stopped herself from scowling. Maybe this wasn’t going to be quite as easy as she’d thought.

Redoubling her efforts, she picked up the corners of her lips again. ‘I’m OK, thanks,’ she said, adding a little simper to her tone. ‘But I’m really touched by your concern.’

Apart from the slight narrowing of his eyes, Aidan Flynn didn’t move; he just gave her a long, suspicious look.

Oh, fine. If she was going to make this plan work, obviously she needed to learn to be more convincing. That would involve polishing up some techniques, maybe practising in front of a mirror first. She had to play for time.

She gave a dainty fake yawn. ‘As much as I’d love to stay and talk, would you mind if we continued this another time?’ She gave her eyelashes a few bats for good measure. Ugh, she might need that bucket after all if she had to keep up this sort of behaviour for any length of time. Hopefully, his interest would wane quickly. ‘I really am tired.’

Aidan covered an odd-sounding little cough with his hand. ‘Hmm. I can see that,’ he said, still looking at her as though she were like nothing he’d ever seen before. ‘How about after work tomorrow night?’

Annabel nearly fell off her stool. She’d assumed things would continue along as they had been, with Aidan Flynn undertaking his random perverted ambushes during work hours, enabling her to perform her new act within the relatively safe environment of Cluny’s. She hadn’t been expecting the action to suddenly shift to anything as risky as a private late night ‘date’.

‘Seeing as the last one was so –
enjoyable
,’ he emphasised the word with a teasing glint in his eye, ‘we could go for another coffee.’

Oh, shit. Coffee …
kissing
. Tomorrow night! That sounded too intimate, too soon. It would only give her twenty-four hours to prepare. ‘Tomorrow’s my day off.’ She remembered with a spurt of relief. ‘And I already have plans for the evening.’ She quickly tacked on the lie, only just remembering to pair it with a look of regret.

‘No problem. How about breakfast, then, before my shift starts?’

Breakfast! God, no. That was worse. It would leave her with even less time.

‘Do you know Height at The Hyde?’ The question cut through her rising panic, stopping it dead.

‘Height?’ she repeated sharply. Sure she knew about it. Who didn’t? The Hyde was the newest über hip addition to the Harcourt Group’s stable of designer hotels and the roof terrace restaurant was reportedly the best in London. He couldn’t mean … ‘Isn’t it impossible to get a table there at short notice?’

‘I have it on good authority that if we’re early enough to avoid the cool crowd, we’re in with a chance.’

Good authority. Did he mean his uncle, or maybe he knew someone who worked there? Whichever, she doubted it could be as easy as he made it out to be.

‘Half eight all right?’ he asked with a raised brow.

Her instinct was, of course, to say no – to keep well away from Aidan Flynn. And what little was left of her dwindling good sense agreed, even if it meant passing up an opportunity like Height. Meeting so soon wouldn’t give her nearly enough time to get to grips with her new act, let alone perfect it. But then, didn’t the very basis of the act rely on her breaking her habit of resisting? If this invitation was Aidan Flynn’s way of trying to call her bluff, catch her out, could she afford to fail at the very first test and compromise the best plan she had of escape?

Lord. How much more complicated could this get?

Even as she wrestled with indecision, Annabel realised that if she was committed to freeing herself, there was really only one way to go.

So – she’d only have precious few hours to cobble together a plan of action? She’d better get busy, then. It was just breakfast, after all. In a highly public place. How dangerous could that be?

‘Eight thirty is perfect. I’ll meet you there.’

Perhaps it was England’s reputation for famously bad weather that made the odd sunny day in London seem so perfect. Whatever the time of year. Stripped of its habitual grey shroud, the sombre British dignity of the city and its inhabitants was transformed. Under a clear blue sky and a low-riding winter sun, timeworn stone glowed and some rush-hour commuters were even moved to smile. In public. At strangers.

On the wide, straight avenue of Piccadilly, where Aidan waited in the shadow of the restored Palladian mansion that housed The Hyde, it was still early enough for the morning air to carry a frosty bite. Having arrived some while ago, he could have chosen to pass the time at his reserved table up in the warmth of the glass-covered, sun-drenched roof terrace, but that would have robbed him of the pleasure of watching his breakfast companion arrive. And that would have been a shame indeed, he acknowledged as, despite looking as he’d never seen her before, he spied Annabel Frost through the crowds the instant she came into view.

Rooted to the spot by the sight of her ruby hair billowing long and loose about the shoulders of a floaty swing coat which danced enticingly around the tops of a pair of tall, calf-hugging suede boots, he found himself forgetting to breathe. As much as the red-blooded male animal in him appreciated watching the way she moved – her long-legged stride, the sway of her hips – it was the underlying significance, the symbolism, of such a seemingly simple act that he was more interested in witnessing today. From their first meeting, he had been the one driving the fast and furious momentum, bulldozing Ms Frost with relentless intent. Now, for the first time,
she
was coming to
him
. Walking into whatever was about to unfold between them, freely, willingly. He wouldn’t have missed the sight of that if he’d had to stand all night in a freezing blizzard.

As she drew closer, he could see that she looked much better than she had yesterday. With her eyes clear and bright, and her cheeks rosy from the brisk morning air, she looked beyond beautiful. It didn’t take him long to pick up that, despite the unexpected change in image her clothes and hair style lent, there was something else there – an added straightness to her spine, a glint of steel in her gaze that suggested the outer packaging of soft femininity was just an act.

Well of course it was.

He’d known from her sudden turn of bizarre behaviour late last night that Ms Frost was up to something. Whatever that something turned out to be, one look at the badly concealed sassiness behind the smile she sent him now left little doubt that it was going to test him. Good. Inside the collar of his coat, the hairs on the back of his neck rose in anticipation as he watched her close the last of the distance between them. He couldn’t wait to find out what she had in mind.

When she finally stepped up to him, he had to make a conscious effort not to embrace her as his instincts shouted at him to do.

‘Good morning, Ms Frost.’ He settled for a simple greeting.

‘Aidan,’ she returned, looking up at him with what he guessed was intended as some sort of simpering coquetry, but which more closely resembled a deranged kitten.

Mindful of this particular kitten’s needle-sharp teeth and claws, he kept his own features straight and motioned her to precede him through the hotel doors. Following her through the entryway, he stepped up as close behind her as he could without risking an accidental touch and inhaled the fragrance of exotic flowers she trailed. ‘You look breathtaking,’ he murmured into her ear.

She gave a quiet gasp and half-turned in surprise. This time the semi-shy smile and the look she gave him through her lashes were genuine – and hit him with such force they very nearly laid him out for the count right there.

They both blinked and the moment passed as Annabel’s attention was drawn to the stunning monochrome décor of the hotel lobby. A polished expanse of white marble flooring extended to walls lined with sheer panels of snowy voile, backlit by colour-change lighting and hung with great, gilt-framed original oil paintings – dark, solemn portraits of grand personages adorned in period finery. Oversized chairs and settees, upholstered in studded black velvet, were set in casual groups here and there. The silver-gilt reception desk stretched across the far wall, and glowed under the light of the countless candles burning in the four-foot-high Venetian glass candelabra that stood along its surface at regular intervals. The centrepiece of the space, cascading from the forty-foot-high ceiling like a waterfall, was an enormous cylindrical chandelier, its thousands of strands of crystals hanging all the way to the floor and spilling like rivulets across the marble. The hotel’s seasonal decorations were understated, stunning in their simplicity – a series of identical ‘Christmas trees’ standing sentry around the perimeter of the space, each constructed entirely from blown-glass baubles of varying sizes, some silvered, some intricately etched, some patterned with glitter.

‘This is beautiful,’ she breathed in awe, eyes darting to take in everything as he led her towards the bank of elevators.

‘Very,’ he agreed, his own eyes focused on nothing but Annabel Frost, captivated by the way her fair skin appeared even milkier framed by the luxuriant length of loose hair that reached past her shoulder blades in thick waves.