The Ninety Days of Genevieve (33 page)

When she pushed open the door the first thing she noticed were the mirrors. Ornately framed in gilt they reflected each other, and made the room seem much larger than it really was. The second thing that caught her attention was the bed. It was a huge four poster, with fluted gold posts. Gilt cherubs held white draperies so light they moved and billowed in the draught from the open door.

Then she smelled the sharp tang of aftershave.

'Two hours/ a voice said. 'And I'm going to enjoy every minute of it.'

She spun round. A tall, muscular man dressed in an American policeman's uniform appeared in the open door that led to an adjoining bathroom. He was no longer wearing a mask.

'Surprised?' he said. 'Expecting someone else? Well, I'm real sorry to disappoint you, but you've ended up with me, just like I promised.'

For a shocked moment Genevieve thought she had come into the wrong room.

'Don't be shy/ he drawled. 'Take your coat off. Make yourself at home.'

For an answer she drew the edges of her coat closer together. She saw his eyes stray downwards to the black silk triangle that only just covered her pubic hair and linger there.

'I'm told you're a natural blonde/ he said. 'Like to prove it?'

She stood like a statue, not believing what she was seeing and hearing. Had she really mistaken his voice for Sinclair's during the bidding? She could not believe it. It was deeper, and his accent was too distinctively American to disguise.

'I can't imagine who told you that/ she said, with icy disdain.

'The same guy who put in my bids for me/ he said.

She stared at him, not wanting to believe him. He walked over to a small table, opened a box, took out a cigar and lit it. 'One of my vices/ he explained. 'I've got quite a few.' He grinned. 'You might like some of them.' A cloud of fragrant smoke wreathed his face. 'Doesn't bother you, does it? I know you don't smoke.' He shifted the cigar in his mouth. 'I know quite a lot about you, Genevieve.'

She did not bother to ask him how he knew her name.

Despite the warmth of the room her body felt cold. Her mind still refused to accept that Sinclair had bid for her, knowing that she would come in here and find this -stranger.

'I'm Bradford Franklin.' The American sat down on the bed. 'My friends call me Brad. That can include you, if you like. Or not, it doesn't bother me. But something else does.' He patted the bed. 'At a grand an hour you're costing me about sixteen English pounds a minute. Thaf s serious money. Come and lie down.'

Genevieve stayed where she was, her back to the door. She could see herself reflected in the carefully placed mirrors. A long-legged figure, her blonde hair loose, a man's black tailcoat clutched round her.

'There's been a mistake,' she said.

Brad shook his head. 'No mistake. You agreed to the auction.'

'But I thought...'

'You thought someone else was doing the bidding?' He laughed. 'Well, you were right. My friend James owes me a favour. Quite a few favours, as it happens. I suggested a way of paying some of them off. He agreed. Neat idea, huh?'

'It was mean,' she said, angry now. 'Mean and underhanded.'

But was it really, she thought bleakly. She had agreed to Sinclair's terms at the start of their agreement, and if forcing her to go with someone else was part of his idea of erotic entertainment she supposed he had a right to arrange it.

Bradford Franklin seemed to think so too.

'Oh, come on.' He lounged back on the bed. 'Stop trying to convince me that you're little Miss Prim and Proper. I know all about your arrangement with James. You're a smart lady. You want to get on. I like that.' He patted the bed again. 'C'mon baby. It's not that bad. You and James had a good time together and you'll do well out of it.' He shifted the cigar in his mouth, watching her. 'But how much higher can you get in a firm like

Barringtons? I've got connections. America, Canada, Europe, you name it. I can get you into the kind of positions you've never even dreamed about, and I'm not just talking sex. You've proved you're open to suggestions. Here's one for you. Another ninety days - with me. We play some good games together and I'll push your career like you won't believe.' He took the cigar out of his mouth and blew a perfect smoke ring. 'How about it, baby? Sound good to you?'

'I'm not interested,' she said.

'Don't you even want to think about it?'

No, she thought. Before I met James Sinclair, maybe I'd have considered it. Just maybe. But not any longer. Not as a career move. Not on any terms. Sinclair had woken her up to the kind of sexual fantasies she enjoyed, but she knew that she enjoyed them because she was acting them out with him. It had been easy for her to forget that they were not really lovers. Would she have enjoyed them with anyone else? She doubted it now.

'There's nothing to think about,' she said.

'And I thought you were a hard-headed businesswoman.' He shook his head in mock reproach.

So did I, she thought. And I was, until I met James Sinclair.

'Well, I'll just have to make do with my two hours.' He stubbed out his cigar. 'Come over here and show me how well you can perform with that pretty mouth of yours.'

'Sorry/ she said. 'That deal's off, too.'

He stared at her for a long moment, then grinned lazily.

'Are you sure you mean that? You want to lose everything you've gained? James wants me to fuck you, baby. And I want it, too. I've even agreed to pay two grand to a charity for the privilege.'

'Sorry/ she said. 'I'll pay the charity. But I'm not for sale.' Brad stood up and hooked his thumbs in his belt. 'Sony's not good enough. So what the hell's wrong with me? Maybe I don't look like one of those pretty-boy movie stars, but you could do a lot worse.'

'There's nothing wrong with you,' she said. Now that she had made her decision she felt as if a weight had been lifted off her mind. She could almost feel sympathetic towards Brad Franklin. 'I think there's something wrong with me.'

He gave her a slow once over that reminded her of the way Sinclair had looked at her. 'You look OK to me. What's bothering you?'

'I think it's called being in love,' she said.

He stared at her for a moment, then gave an explosive snort of laughter. 'Who the hell with? Sinclair?' When she did not answer, he persisted: 'You can't be serious? This is real life, baby. You're in it for profit. Your career.'

'I was,' she admitted. 'But not anymore. Maybe I'm in love. Maybe I'm falling in love. But either way, the deal's off. I can't go along with it anymore.'

'Well, for God's sake,' a voice drawled from behind her, 'it's taken you long enough to admit it.'

She spun round. James Sinclair was leaning against the bathroom door, elegant in evening dress. The first emotion Genevieve experienced was relief, followed immediately by a rush of anger.

'Where the
hell
have you been?' she demanded.

'Around,' Sinclair said, with an infuriating smile. 'Watching. Waiting. Listening.'

'And what exactly is that supposed to mean?

'It means he set you up, baby,' Brad grinned. 'With my help. He set you up, then stood around and watched the show. Sounds a bit unkind, but it was all for a good cause.' ^

'Set me up?' She stared at the two men. 'I don't believe this. I trusted you, Sinclair!'

'Don't be too hard on him, baby/ Brad said. 'He wanted to hear you say those three little words: I love you. Touching, isn't it?' He put his hand on his heart. 'Gets you - right here.' Genevieve stared at him, still not really believing him. 'If s gets me, anyway/ Brad added.

'But then I'm just a big softy, really.' He walked over to the door. 'Helping you two lovebirds come together has really made my day, but now I'm beginning to feel like the unwanted guest.' He blew Genevieve a kiss. 'Been nice meeting you, baby, and don't worry. Discretion's my middle name.'

The door shut behind him. Genevieve twisted round to face Sinclair. 'Lovebird isn't the word I'd use to describe you right now,' she said furiously.

'Or ever, I hope,' he said. 'I'll accept handsome. Irresistible. Sexy, even. But lovebird? Never.'

'You've made me look a complete idiot.'

He laughed softly. 'All I've done is get you to admit a lot of things about yourself that you were repressing. Including your feelings for me.'

'Well, if that isn't just about the most conceited thing I've ever heard!' She was still furious, as much with relief as anger. 'You're fooling yourself, Mr Sinclair. Right now, the only feeling I have for you is a strong desire to punch you.'

'You'll get over it,' he said, grinning. 'You know I don't deserve it.'

'You deserve it. You blackmailed me.'

'I've never blackmailed anyone in my life.'

'Ninety days as a sex slave, or no signature?' she stated. 'If that isn't blackmail, what is?'

He stared at her for a long moment, and then began to laugh. 'You didn't take that seriously, did you?'

'Damn right, I did!' She had been calming down, but now his laughter infuriated her again. 'Are you trying to tell me you were joking?'

'I'm a businessman,' he said. 'How far do you think I'd get if I really made deals like that?'

'You never intended to transfer your account to us?'

'I always intended to,' he said. 'Randle-Mayne haven't been coming up with enough fresh ideas. I wanted new blood. I like some of the work your creative team have been producing. And I might be interested in buying into an advertising agency quite soon. A small one, with some fresh young talent is just what I'm looking for. Barringtons would be my first choice.' He paused and walked towards her. Standing in front of her he put his hands on her shoulders. 'Come on now, Genevieve. You wanted me. From the moment I made you strip for me in your office you were hooked. You couldn't wait to find out what else I could make you do. The ninety-day agreement was just an excuse, for both of us. Don't try and tell me you didn't know that.'

'I didn't,' she said. 'Why me? I'm not even your type. With your money you could get any woman you fancied.'

'Thank's for the backhanded compliment,' he said drily. 'And why are you so sure you're not my type?'

'I've heard about the kind of women you like,' she said.

'You've heard about the kind of women other people think I like,' he said. 'It's true I've escorted a variety in my time, but if a woman's too blatantly sexy it actually turns me off. And if she's just some bimbo who wants me as a status symbol, I might try her out in bed but that's as far as I want to go.' He smiled. 'I like independent women, and I don't feel threatened by women with brains. I'm intrigued by the combination of ice and flames.' He paused. 'That's why I liked you. You were a mixture of intelligence and sexual heat. An iceberg with internal fire. It was an irresistible turn-on. Does that make sense to you?'

'No,' she said. 'I wasn't even trying to turn you on.'

Or was I, she thought. You attracted me. Did it show in my eyes? My body language? He put his hands on her shoulders, and she felt their warmth.

'You tried to act the remote businesswoman when we first met,' he said softly. 'But I'm afraid you weren't very convincing. Apparent indifference is quite a turn-on for me, as long as I'm sure ifs only a bluff.' His fingers tightened on her shoulders. 'And I knew yours was. You looked like a cool, pure maiden, very prim and proper in your cover-up designer suits. I knew you were nicely built, but I had.a great time imagining exactly what you'd look like when I stripped you.'

'You told me to strip,' Genevieve reminded him. 'And you felt me up as if I was in a slave market.'

'And you loved it,' he agreed. 'The problem was, you wouldn't admit it, even to yourself. All you did was insist that everything we did was strictly business, that it wasn't me you were interested in, it was our final agreement.'

She put her hands lightly on his. 'I thought that was what you wanted,' she said. 'I went along with it. I suppose I tried to switch off my feelings most of the time. I didn't want to get hurt. I thought you were using me. You have a reputation for it.'

'I suppose I deserved that,' he said. 'To be honest, I've encouraged people to believe it. In many ways it's helped me. People who don't know the truth about me, never know what to expect.'

'You don't use people?' she asked, faintly sarcastic.

'Of course I do,' he said 'If they let me. Everyone does. Including you. But it's often a two-way process.' He grinned. 'I used Jade Chalfont.' He saw her expression change and his grin broadened. 'A classic case,' he said. 'She wanted me as her first success at Lucci's. I knew she'd be useful to me in Japan. She obligingly decided to arrange her holiday at the same time that I'd arranged my business trip. She even managed to book out on the same flight as me.'

'But I thought...' Genevieve began.

'You thought I'd invited her as a little bit of convenient entertainment?' He laughed. 'So did a lot of other people. Like I said, it didn't do my reputation any harm. Here, or in Japan. The Japanese really admired her - the English sensei. When it comes to beating people up with a sword she certainly knows her stuff.'