The Right Mr. Wrong (3 page)

His smile also flashed wider, but his eyes sparked. ‘Well, I’m still Liam. In case you’d forgotten my name.’

As if she could ever forget his name. As if she could ever forget his face, his mouth, his hands, his body and the way he used it...

She blinked and halted her thoughts. She’d been there, done that, burned the tee shirt. She had self-control now. Grown up, mature, she wasn’t the bowled-over idiot she’d been. And once bitten, she was now ninety-nine times shy of this guy. She should turn tail and run. She couldn’t lose herself again.

Except she was no longer a coward. She was a highly paid, valued and skilled assistant to one of the world’s most iconoclastic talents. And she wasn’t going to let him get to her or cause trouble at a time that was far too important. And that was the point. She was being paid to be here and do a freaking awesome job. So here she’d stay. But she sure wished she could get her bra back on.

‘It’s been a while.’ He offered another easy conversation starter with another too easy smile.

Okay, that was how they’d play it—like vaguely friendly, old acquaintances. ‘I suppose,’ she agreed, as if she’d not really noticed. As if she couldn’t tell him down to the last minute.

He looked amused. ‘You look different.’ His attention lifted to her hair. ‘And yet the same.’ His lids fluttered as he swiftly looked down her body and back to her face. There hadn’t been a blatant stare at her boobs, but she knew he noticed them—she felt it in their response.

‘Still beautiful,’ he added quietly.

Oh, hell. She wasn’t going to let him seduce her with his soft-spoken, smiling wickedness—especially when she knew all it ever had been was words. No matter how sincere he could sound, there was no genuine emotion behind them.

‘While you’re looking as wolfish as ever.’ She deliberately glanced at the screen Alannah was changing behind. ‘You still love a challenge and a chase?’

He laughed. ‘Possibly.’

There was no ‘possible’ about it.

‘So you work for Gia?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I’m very fortunate.’ Vivi maintained her composure. She hadn’t spent the last few years working around models not to pick up a few points—like the ability to smile on demand no matter how you were feeling inside.

At that moment, Gia materialised, the steel scissors still in her hands. ‘Tell me more about your plans,’ she said to Liam.

Vivi leapt at the opportunity to duck behind the screen. Alannah was just pulling on a stunning minidress that should by rights be a tee shirt. She had no bra on either.

‘It seems to be the look tonight.’ Alannah winked.

Yeah, well, it was all right for Alannah—she was the definition of pert’n’petite.

‘Where’s my bra?’ Vivi violently whispered.

‘That ugly thing was a bra?’ Alannah answered excruciatingly loudly. ‘No idea.’ She breezed out from the curtain to sing at the others. ‘Comfort stop, won’t be a sec.’

Vivi stayed hidden, hunting for her bra and acutely aware of the quiet—inaudible—murmuring between Gia and Liam. How had Liam met Gia? Victoria had control of the calendar; she knew everything Gia was up to, didn’t she?

He had to be here for Alannah. He must be the guy the model reckoned was the love of her life. Vivi grimly hoped that the usual pattern was followed and the ‘Unattainable’ would eat him up and spit him out.

Finally she found remnants of her bra on the floor. Unlike the dress, no time and care had been taken to preserve it from the sharp shears. There was nothing for it but to go back out there and face him—headlights on full. Straightening her shoulders in pure defiance, she stepped out from the small screen.

‘Vivi, hurry up.’ Gia frowned.

She had no intention of hurrying anywhere with them. She still had work to do—thank heavens. ‘Gia, I can’t come with you now. I need to supervise the—’

‘One of the others can do it.’

Oh, she had to be kidding. But Vivi recognised the hard light in Gia’s eyes. The woman might be a genius but she was notoriously difficult when consumed by her latest idea. It seemed inspiration might have struck in the last ten seconds. Vivi kept her tones calm and sensible. ‘All right, but I need to go by the hotel to—’

‘There’s no time for that,’ Gia snapped. ‘I need you with me now.’

No mistaking that tone. While Vivi was used to Gia’s imperious orders, others were often shocked by her supersonic switch to demanding Diva-Of-Them-All. Vivi glanced at Liam and saw the slight tightening around his eyes. But he looked from Gia to her and his momentarily forbidding expression shattered as he turned on a smile.

Vivi turned away and drew breath. Great, so now she got to go to the glamorous after-party in the clothes she’d been wearing all day, without half her underwear, and in the presence of an ex-lover whom she’d never quite got out from under her skin. The one guy in front of whom, if she had to ever see him again, she’d want to look hotter than hot.

Well, doubtless she looked hot—her face felt as flamed as a tomato on a grill. Her frigidly efficient persona had melted and she was mortified. Given the field she worked in, maybe she should be less conservative sartorially, but her attire was part of her armour and at this moment she needed all the steel she could get her hands on. What she really needed was a chastity belt. She wasn’t getting sucked under by the tsunami of sensual power that was Liam. Not again.

A bunch of paps loitered by the limo. Vivi put on her best secretary face and acted as bodyguard for Alannah. She’d long since learned the best way to ensure the photographers didn’t bother taking a picture of her was to look as if she were on a mission and hold a clipboard or something. Tonight she clutched her bag to her chest.

Liam had also stepped ahead of the two stars and now held the car door for them—looking like a much more efficient bodyguard than she as she brought up the rear. Clearly amused, he looked right at her bag as if he knew exactly what it was she was really trying to hide. She got into the limo, painfully aware of him getting a face full of her butt as he waited to get in after her.

He took the seat opposite hers, the one next to Alannah. So she got to watch as he conquered the Unattainable? Okay, she didn’t need the chastity belt, but a paper bag to stick her head in would be really welcome right about now. Because he
would
succeed where all others had failed. Wasn’t that what Liam was all about? Winning what no one else could.

‘So, what’s so special about this boat you were telling me about?’ Gia picked up on the conversation she’d been having with Liam while Vivi had been bra-hunting behind the screen. ‘Sell it to me.’ She went into bottom-line businesswoman mode.

‘Everything. Sleek lines, luxurious fabric, simple design. You get comfort but elite performance. The speed over the water is unlike anything in its class. I think you’ll find it an exceptionally good fit.’ Liam didn’t do plain business-speak. The way he spoke evoked the sensuality of the design he was discussing. It was obviously still boats for him, then. Still that ‘freedom’ that was so important to him and that he could never find on land. Glancing at Gia, Vivi could see his effect in action. He always spoke with that smile in his voice, with the kind of confidence that had everyone leaning forward and listening.

‘Will you take me out on it?’ Alannah asked with one of her coquettish giggles.

‘I’d love nothing more.’

Goosebumps feathered over Vivi’s hot and cold skin. She was hyper-aware of him sitting so close, but she point blank refused to look at him. She studied the plain fabric of her skirt instead. Once she’d had the freedom to touch him when and how she liked. And she’d liked—too much. But it wasn’t just the possibility of touch making her squirmy; he managed to attack all her other senses too—most especially with that scent.

Vivi wasn’t wearing perfume, nor were Gia or Alannah. The models used nothing to stain the delicate fabrics used, nothing that would interfere with the understated scent in the catwalk salon—Gia’s shows were carefully designed multi-sensory experiences. So that subtle scent in the car wasn’t coming from anyone but Liam.

Musky, masculine, delectable.

Once he’d smelt of sea and sun, even in mid-winter. Now that was masked with a splash of something expensive—and every bit as devastating.

‘I think it could work,’ Gia said. ‘I want to see it. We can go from there.’

Vivi’s muscles screamed with tension. Liam and Gia were working some deal? It was Vivi’s job to have all potential business partners screened by Gia’s financial advisers. She could have had this nixed had she been aware of it. Because no way on this earth did she want to have to work with Liam on anything. She was getting through this car ride and then leaving him and Alannah to it. She just did
not
want to know.

‘We’re looking at using Liam’s new boat for a one-off fashion shoot.’ Gia coolly confirmed the worst. ‘You arrange it, Vivi.’

Vivi glanced at him, stiffening as she encountered his watchful eyes. He had an annoyingly amused look on his face, as if he suspected how much she
didn’t
want to arrange it. As if he knew she wanted to tell him to go jump off one of his precious boats. But she didn’t tell him. Instead she pulled on her tough-nut, impervious-to-stress persona.

‘Of course.’ She smiled. What Gia wanted, Vivi did. She was professional and she had no problem working with someone equally professional. She’d calmly navigate these waters with Liam’s own secretary. ‘No doubt you have an assistant I can liaise with, Liam?’

‘Not here,’ he answered with a roguish drawl and a deliberately
un
apologetic shrug. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to
liaise
directly with me.’

TWO

The extravagant hotel
in Milan had more bouncers roaming the rooms than the fashion magazines had models. There were roped-off areas within roped-off areas—screens protecting the most rich and famous from the merely rich and famous. And, in the central, most holy, V.V.V.V.I.P part of the place stood Liam Wilson.

He didn’t let it go to his head. He was only here because of mystery, reputation and mutual benefit. Because the world’s most sought-after designer was happy to work with him and her pet, the world’s latest ‘It’ model, was happy to use him. He wasn’t afraid of using contacts to get ahead either—not in the professional sense. But this wasn’t just about business. This was personal too.

He’d wanted to catch up with Victoria Rutherford—the woman now named Vivi Grace. He’d known she’d be somewhere behind the scenes at the show tonight but, even so, finally seeing her again had taken him by complete surprise. It was that gloriously sexy, uptight outfit. He’d had to freeze as if it were a game of musical statues to stop from hitting on her as he had five years ago. In less than a second the urge had bitten all over again. Red hot, rampaging lust.

Rot
. He gritted his teeth. He did
not
still find her attractive. It was merely her braless state. Finding real curves in this particular environment was heady stuff. Plus, he’d been single—i.e. sex-starved—these last few months. He’d been working vicious hours. His juices were flowing because he smelt business success in the air... Oh, he could come up with a hundred excuses for the instant rock-hard reaction he’d felt.

But he couldn’t help looking at her. Drinking her in. She had the same beautiful curves—swollen breasts, slim waist, sweet hips. Her white shirt and black skirt were clearly intended to give off the uber-efficient, frigid school-mistress stereotype, but they totally failed. The knee-length skirt simply emphasised the legs on show beneath and made a man itch to slide the hem higher to see the thighs Liam already knew were supple, strong and yet soft. The fabric curved tight over her hips, giving her a slim roundedness that was so much more attractive to him than the bony frame of the supposed supermodel.

On her feet were the instruments of torture that were uniform in this industry—the highest of heels. He’d no idea how she could walk in them but he liked how they brought her face nearer to his. Not quite eye to eye but tantalisingly not far from mouth to mouth. They were a superficial sign of change—so different from the slip-on things she’d worn that winter. Her hair was different too. Gone were the long waves of blonde. In their place was a sharp-edged cut just to her chin. Very French. He’d seen the style a lot. On Victoria it looked good, but so different from the style she’d had those years ago. A veneer of sophistication had replaced sweet innocence. She’d topped off this change with her new name.
Vivi
.

But none of those changes wiped the image he had of her in his head—with her naked and able only to breathe through the moments beyond climax. The most beautiful woman he’d ever known.

And he’d known plenty in the last five years.

Yet none had left the same impression. None had left this residual irritation—like a barb beneath his skin. None had led to another moment of madness—the one that had brought him here. Liam tried to rein in the energy building in him—the very, very red blood pulsing round his body. Victoria Rutherford.

Too hot to handle. Too hot to last.

For a moment his mind was so fogged with tumultuous memories he couldn’t speak. It could have been an hour ago when she’d been soft, warm, willing and he’d lost himself in her. He’d not meant to get that physical that quick once they’d walked out on everything. But she’d stunned him with her sweetness and he’d been unable to resist. Taking what she’d offered. Stupidly, he’d become more jealous of Oliver than he’d been before. She’d drilled him open until he’d never felt so unsure in his life. He’d asked her stupid, insecure questions, needing to know that what was between them was better. But whatever had brought them together eroded—again more quickly than he’d imagined it could.

She’d left and he didn’t just lose his heart. But everything he’d achieved.

Business contacts, work, his world. She’d no idea how much it had cost him. No idea what he’d brought himself up from only to be dumped in an even worse place. He’d had to start all over again—from below the line he’d started. Because he then had the reputation, the ostracism, to overcome. He’d betrayed someone who should have been like a brother to him. But Liam had never had a brother. Never had anything anyone could call a family. And that was the way it would stay—no long-term lover, certainly no marriage. Career came first and always would. It was the one constant in his life and what gave him greatest satisfaction.

Which wasn’t to say he didn’t like sex. Usually he pursued plenty of it—and won. Now he had the money and status that came with success, he won even more. Which gave him more reason to doubt a woman’s motivation. Because back in the day when all he’d had to offer was himself, it hadn’t been what she’d wanted. It hadn’t been
him
at all. Victoria Rutherford had used him all those years ago and he’d suffered through hell because of it.

He took another sip of his drink and told his imagination to settle and his pulse to slow. It wasn’t that she’d broken his heart. It had been a
crush
. He’d been tempted by the forbidden and by hormone-fuelled fantasy. And he’d recovered what he’d lost. He’d worked round the clock. He’d had to leave the UK and try Europe—doing anything and everything. Clawing his way back up the ladder. In truth, he’d probably done better than he would have had he stayed, because he’d had to reach round for other business opportunities. It had cost him hours and hours of sheer graft, struggle and sweat but he’d done it. Single-handed. And single he would remain. Always. He’d never risk his security again.

So, for now he’d sort out this photo shoot deal with the designer. It was a win-win proposition and the old bird already knew it. He could handle a few meetings with Victoria. He’d pull a satisfactory outcome from this lame burst of curiosity. But right now that curiosity bit harder. Liam looked across the room to where she stood in the corner, yapping into her mobile phone. He pegged it as defensive—a way of disengaging from the scene in the room and the threat of a scene with him.

Too bad. He started walking. Because it was time for the kind of scene Victoria had once loathed.

* * *

A frisson of awareness skittered down Vivi’s spine. She turned and watched Liam walk nearer. He watched her in a way that set her teeth on edge. Compelling, confident he’d get her attention. Of course he bloody would. He got everyone’s attention. She’d done some quick research as soon as she’d got Gia ensconced centre stage in the room with her favourite drink on tap. Liam hadn’t hidden the way she had. So now she knew—he headed a luxury boat-building firm based on the Italian coast. He’d turned the ancient, once-family-owned company around. In only a few short years he’d pulled them out of the red and into the utterly desirable. He’d fended off an aggressive take-over threat from a far bigger rival and come out on top. He had people queuing for orders and celebs calling in favours to get in first—almost as many as Gia. Vivi knew to have achieved that much in such a short time meant he’d worked every hour there was. He simply had to have a team with him now.

‘Are you sure you want to organise this shoot yourself?’ she said the second he got within earshot, a bright smile pinned to her lips. ‘You wouldn’t prefer to have an assistant work out the fine details with me?’

‘The thought of dealing directly with me really does bother you.’ He stopped walking an inch over a socially acceptable distance from her.

‘Of course it doesn’t.’ She maintained her smile through gritted teeth and resisted the urge to take a step back. ‘I’m just surprised you have the
time to waste
on something small like this.’ She less than subtly emphasised the ‘time to waste’. That was what he’d said to her in the heat of one of their many arguments in the last few days they were together.

I don’t have the time to waste on this.

On you.

‘It’s a very precious boat and has yet to be revealed to anyone,’ he said lazily, not taking his eyes from her face. ‘It’s under tight security until the Genoa show in a couple of weeks. This is my absolute priority.’

‘You don’t think you’re leaving it a little late to get promo shots?’

He laughed. ‘I already have promo shots. But when you get the chance to have the world’s most popular designer and her model work with you, you take it.’

‘Yes,’ Vivi mused, her bitch-claws flashing out. ‘You were always good at taking every chance you got.’

‘It is a skill of mine. And I’ll continue to take full advantage of every chance I get until I have all that I want.’

‘And what do you want?’ She stared right back at him, refusing to think that there’d been any subtle suggestion in his tone. ‘Global domination?’

‘Why not?’

‘Why indeed?’ she answered lightly. ‘All the money, the travel—’

‘Don’t forget the women.’ His smile was lazy but his eyes were sharp.

‘Oh, how could I forget the women? So you have everything you desire—fame, fortune, fawning minions?’

‘Minions?’ He chuckled. ‘Is that what you are?’

Anger flashed—white-hot, rapid—but she controlled it, using everything she had to preserve an almost unruffled exterior. ‘I’m no minion.’ Certainly not his. ‘I’m the puppeteer. I organised this party—this whole decadent circus was on my instruction.’

‘Really?’

Something about that answer set her on edge—as if he was indulging her. She was proud of who she’d become, what she’d done. ‘Absolutely. You know—’ she stood taller ‘—I really ought to thank you. This job, my life—’ she waved a hand at the opulent room ‘—all because I walked out. My leaving home, leaving you—it was the best thing I ever did.’ She lifted her chin, emphasising her bravado. Masking the tendril of fear that was uncurling in her stomach—fear that one chink of her armour had loosened from one little
look
.

There was a moment of silence.

‘Well.’ He paused again. ‘Congratulations.’

Caution niggled—something in his tone alerting her. His face had shuttered again, his lashes lowered, hiding the warmth in his eyes.

‘I want you to meet with me first thing in the morning,’ he said.

‘That’s not possible.’ She smiled an insincere apology. Thank goodness she was having a few days off. She’d arrange his shoot once she got back. ‘I have—’

‘But Gia promised you’d take care of everything and meet every single one of my demands.’ His shoulders lifted and his eyes widened as if in total innocence.

Vivi mentally counted to five. Because she recognised the single-minded obstinacy beneath his good-humoured façade. She couldn’t let him muck up her rep with Gia and she suspected he would. ‘As long as every single one of your demands is
professional
, then of course I will.’ She smiled. For Gia.

‘You think my demands might not be professional?’ he leaned in to murmur.

She angled her head back, aware she exposed her neck as she did—ignoring the secret flare of desire within for him to kiss her vulnerable skin. ‘I think the professional and the personal are intertwined for you.’

‘Oh?’

He moved forward and she backed up a pace before thinking better of it and locking her knees tight. ‘Nothing matters to you more than the professional and you’re more than happy to use the personal to get there.’

She ignored the battling urges within her—flee-or-fornicate. Crass it might be, but those had always been her only options when it came to Liam. But she was doing neither tonight. She was in
control
. She’d never been in control of her feelings around Liam before, but she’d grown up plenty since then.

‘Then it’s just as well you’re still so eager to please, isn’t it?’ He angled his head bringing him to a way more personal than professional distance—a kiss distance. ‘How ironic that the girl who was so determined to achieve independence has become the ultimate in slave.’

She blinked. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Running around after your boss. Never saying no. Definitely a
slave
.’

Oh, that was rude. But worse was her melting reaction to the way he lingered over that last insulting word. The dreadful thing was she’d felt enslaved all those years ago—so in love she was all but bound to him. Being that enthralled was what she’d run from. Especially when that depth of emotion had never been reciprocated. She fought harder to hide the electrical current running red-hot between them now. ‘I’ll
never
be your slave.’

‘No?’ He lifted his hand and brushed the back of his finger along the edge of her tightly clenched jaw before he stepped away. ‘Seven-thirty tomorrow morning. My hotel.’

* * *

Liam walked away before he did something really stupid—like pushing her back to the wall and kissing the sass out of her. Since when did Victoria Rutherford talk back like that? Since when did she deny what was so obvious between them? She’d never been able to before.

And
he’d
been unable to help stepping closer just then. Drawn like an idiot moth. Again. And she’d admitted that she’d used him—that what had happened had been the best thing for her. Just as he’d suspected. All she’d really wanted was to get out of that small village and the life her parents had mapped for her. He’d been the convenient taxi driver—one that gave her a few thrills along the way. Now she was Ms Independent and so happy about it?

She’d got more than some lip with her sophistication. She’d got bite. And frankly, she made him want to bite back. His teeth were already sharpened, thanks to the driving attraction that had surged back within a second of seeing her again. But here she was acting all uninterested? All cool and calm and unaffected? Little liar. He’d read the signs—he’d heard the husky edge in her voice, seen her flush and the tension in her body. Sexual tension. Well, he wasn’t letting her deny it. She wasn’t rewriting history. That attraction had been insane. It still was. Those hormones still crazy powerful—but not uncontrollable. At least, not for him.