Читать книгу The Best Of The Year - Modern Romance - Мишель Смарт, Annie West - Страница 22

CHAPTER THREE

‘HATE IS A very powerful word, mi pequeña. Never use it lightly.’

Her father’s words echoed through Ana’s mind as she glared at Bastien. Not since the age of nine, when she’d sobbed to her father after her mother had burned all of Ana’s dolls in another bout of senseless cruelty had she felt that emotion so strongly.

But right now she hated Bastien Heidecker.

She hated the power he held over her—hated that he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt at mercilessly wielding it. And hated that she had no recourse to fight him.

Despite taking control of her career the moment she’d turned twenty-one, Ana was still tied in to the six-year contract her mother had agreed with the agency just before she’d turned eighteen. Between their fees and her mother’s extortionate managerial expenses she had very little financial capital to fight anything Bastien or his company might throw at her.

She was completely at his mercy and he knew it. He’d remained completely unruffled by her outburst, his unblinking gaze fixed on her.

‘I can’t afford that sum of money,’ she added, just in case he’d missed her meaning before.

‘You’re a top model and a tabloid darling. I find it intriguing that you don’t even have the money to bail yourself out of jail.’

‘What I use my money for is none of your business. And surely you don’t believe everything you read in the papers?’

His teeth bared in a mockery of a smile that made the hairs twitch on her nape. ‘I’ve learned, much to my regret, that there’s almost never any smoke without fire. One way or the other, Miss Duval, you’ll have to account to me at some point. Hate me all you like, but that’s the reality.’

Without waiting for a reaction he flipped open his phone. The conversation flowed in rapid, flawless French. It carried on for almost fifteen minutes and the whole time Ana’s heart pounded, the feeling of being completely immersed in her worst nightmare growing stronger by the minute.

In three weeks she had to return to court and fight drug possession charges. In the meantime she had to wait and see how the fall-out of this latest tabloid scandal would affect her. Not that she was a stranger to scandal. For as long as she could remember her mother had made sure to be caught in one on a regular basis—just to keep herself in the limelight. And if it happened to involve her supermodel daughter in some way, all the better.

Was it any wonder men like Bastien had the wrong idea about her?

Suddenly she yearned to speak to her father. To hear his calm, soothing voice. He was the one anchor she clung to when things got bad. But he was in the middle of the Amazonian jungle and their fortnightly phone call wasn’t scheduled for several days.

‘We’re here.’

Bastien thrust the door open and stepped out. Blinking at the brilliant sunlight pouring in, Ana looked out onto a private airstrip.

She’d been so engrossed in the turbulent emotions Bastien aroused in her he might have driven her all the way to Outer Mongolia and she would have been none the wiser.

She glanced at the huge, gleaming jet sitting metres from the car and her heart sank. The Heidecker Corporation’s blue and gold logo emblazoned on the tail brought home to her just how easily she could be crushed by the entity she’d taken on.

But then David had triumphed against Goliath...

She suppressed a bubble of hysteria and watched Bastien’s strong, lengthy stride to the foot of the plane’s steps, where his pilot waited.

She’d never wanted to fight with Bastien. From their first meeting sixteen years ago she’d tried to find friendly common ground with him, despite the dreadful irony of their circumstances. She’d tried myriad ways to prove that she wasn’t his enemy, that they could be friends even as her mother was tearing his family apart. Deep down she’d known he’d resented her—not for her presence in his life, but because behind his chilly façade she’d been able to see the pain that echoed her own. She’d desperately wanted to reach him, to soothe away his pain in the hope that he would do the same for her.

How foolish she’d been...

She stepped out of the car and paused when another vehicle screeched to a halt beside her.

An excited Simone sprang from the vehicle and raced towards her.

‘Oh, Ana, I’m so glad you’re all right! When I heard what had happened I was horrified for you.’

Melodramatically she flung her arms around Ana. Two years younger than Ana, Simone Pascale had arrived in London six months ago from her native France and they’d ended up sharing a flat when Ana had accepted that living with her mother was no longer a viable option.

‘And then these strange men turned up. At first I didn’t know what to think. I mean, I was still super-excited for you and everything, because it’s not, like, every day your flatmate leaves to shack up with a multi-billionaire—’

Ana pulled away. ‘What? I’m not leaving to shack up with anyone. Whatever gave you that idea?’

Simone’s over-bright blue eyes widened. ‘But the pictures outside the court... And the paps were outside the flat, asking me if I knew how long you two had been a couple. I mean, c’est très romantique, non?’

Dread crept up Ana’s spine. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Bastien watching her, eyes narrowed. ‘Simone, what did you say to the reporters?’ she whispered urgently.

‘I said it was the best news ever and that I wished you much happiness... Mon Dieu, are you all right?’

Ana swallowed the sickening bile that had risen in her throat. She reached blindly to reassure Simone and felt her wrist being taken in a firm hold. Heat sizzled up her arm, electrifying her senses and reminding her of her weakness when it came to Bastien.

She pulled at her wrist. He held on tighter.

‘What’s going on here?’ Steel underlined his voice.

‘Nothing,’ Ana interjected quickly, before Simone got a chance to spread her unwelcome news.

Bastien had barely tolerated being linked to her professionally. A romantic link would be even more abhorrent to him.

‘I was just thanking Simone for helping me out.’ Ana stared hard at Simone, who stood gaping at Bastien like a stunned fish.

‘Do you have Miss Duval’s passport?’ Bastien asked her.

Rummaging through her bag, Simone located it and handed it over to him.

‘Merci. That will be all.’

Ana glared at him for the pointed dismissal and turned to Simone. ‘I’ll give you a call later.’

Simone nodded and hugged her again. ‘Hang on to him, Ana. He’s absolutely magnifique!’ she whispered feverishly.

‘Let’s go. I don’t want us to miss our flight slot.’ Bastien’s impatient tone matched his stride across the tarmac.

She hurried up the steps, acutely aware of the shortness of her dress.

Once inside, she just stopped and gaped.

She’d flown in a few private planes with her job, but nothing had come close to the level of luxury accosting her senses now.

Royal blue carpeting stretched as far as the eye could see. Cream club chairs flanked both sides of the aircraft, separated by smooth marble tables on which stood exquisite flower displays and stylish lamps. The shades had been half pulled down over the windows to limit the glare of the late-afternoon sun and the atmosphere inside the craft was one of superb and seriously lavish comfort.

Ana would have been excited at being in such surroundings but for the darts of apprehension racing up and down her spine as once again the sensation of stepping into danger engulfed her.

A stewardess approached, a smile on her face as she greeted them and relieved her of Bastien’s jacket. Weirdly, she felt exposed both inside and out without it. Pushing the feeling away, she murmured her thanks.

Bastien guided her into a chair and sat opposite her, his long legs stretched out on either side of her, imprisoning hers. She clamped her thighs together immediately, her senses screeching their awareness of him.

She thought of changing seats, then impatiently dismissed the idea. As long as he was close there would be no getting away from the discordant emotions bubbling underneath her skin. He’d always had that effect on her. Same as she knew she had an unsettling effect on him. Besides, she refused to let him intimidate her.

She glanced out of the window, feigning interest in the cargo trucks moving around a short distance away. But all too soon they were in the air, with clouds blocking her view of the landscape and taking away her reason for ignoring Bastien.

Steeling herself, she glanced at him.

He lounged in his chair, completely relaxed, eyes fixed on her, an unopened briefcase in front of him. Flushing, she wondered how long he’d been staring at her.

‘Do I make you nervous?’

The laugh forced from her throat sounded false. ‘Of course not. What gave you that idea?’

‘You’re skittish around me. I wonder why,’ he said, almost conversationally.

‘I’m not skittish—just annoyed that I’m tied to you for the next three weeks.’

‘We all have a cross to bear, I suppose.’

She raised her chin. ‘You’re obviously as displeased about this as I am, so why did you vouch for me with the judge? Why not just elect one of your subordinates?’

‘And make them liable should you decide to flee?’

‘You have a very low opinion of me.’ She didn’t know why that hurt so much. ‘Why is that, Bastien? What have I ever done to make you think so little of me?’

‘I think we both know the answer to that.’

Her face flamed. ‘What happened on the yacht—’

‘You mean when you tried to use your body to change my mind about firing you?’

‘That wasn’t what I was doing...’ She floundered and stopped as the memory tripped to life.

The moment she’d turned on the boat and seen Bastien standing on the deck, watching her, every nerve in her body had sprung to life.

The boy she’d known had grown into a breathtaking specimen of a man, with a commanding presence that had reached across the distance and held her captive. The smile she hadn’t even been aware she’d given had slowly died as a deep, decadent awareness had arced between them. There’d been nothing boyish about the look in his eyes when he’d reached her.

‘What are you doing here?’ Fierce, flaying words—whispered through incredibly sensual lips.

It had taken her a minute to gather her senses. ‘Hello to you too, Bastien.’

His mouth had compressed. ‘Answer me.’

‘I’m working—or at least I will be when you allow the crew to return. You’ve sent them away because...?’ She turned away, because she couldn’t look into those grey eyes without her midriff fluttering madly as if she was in the midst of a fever.

‘You shouldn’t have been given this commission.’

A lance of unsettling anger made her whirl about. He stood right behind her, so close her hair slid across his jaw. ‘Why not? Because you still have a chip on your shoulder about our past?’

His nostrils flared. ‘No. Because the brief called for someone conservative—not someone who...’

His deliberate pause, the drift of his eyes over her scantily clad body had sent flares of awareness and dark arousal all over her.

Her body’s reaction shamed her, but she didn’t give him the benefit of knowing he unsettled her.

Using her best catwalk pose, she planted her hands on her hips and cocked one hip. ‘Someone who makes men want to drown their women in your diamonds? You don’t want someone who makes wives, girlfriends and women who know what they want hit the speed dial for their nearest jeweller the moment the ads are aired? I’m sorry—I thought you were in this business to make money?’

Her smirk and her taunts were purely for self-preservation. The combination of magnetism, mild derision and lust she could see in his eyes deeply unsettled her.

As did his arctic smile.

‘My vision for the product you’re promoting isn’t quite what you have in mind.’

‘Really?’ The tilt of her head had been well-practised for the camera. ‘I read a survey recently. Next to pure silk, women voted diamonds as the sexiest thing to wear against their skin. So perhaps your vision needs to be a little less...Victorian and more sexy.’

He raised an eyebrow and slowly stalked her, not stopping until she was backed against the railing that overlooked the lower deck. Silence cloaked the upper deck, the rest of the crew having been dispatched somewhere below deck. Above them, stars glittered in the sultry evening. All around her Bastien’s scent and imposing presence sent her heart-rate soaring.

‘Are you telling me how to do my job, Miss Duval?’ He caged her in, hands on either side of her, and treated her to narrow-eyed scrutiny.

‘Just a little friendly advice. Sex sells—or haven’t you heard.’

‘And you’re an expert in that field?’

She gasped, then tried to rein in her temper. ‘I’m an expert at what I do. If you weren’t sure who your target audience were perhaps you should’ve stuck to heading banks and building hotels.’

His icy imprecation rumbled along her nerves. ‘You haven’t stopped needing to play with fire, ma petite.’

‘And you haven’t stopped staring down your nose at me like I’m some inconvenience you can’t wait to be rid of. Would it hurt you to be nice for once in your life?’

He froze. ‘Nice? Believe me, cherie, when I look at you, “nice” is the last thing I feel.’ The words were whisper-soft but filled with a mixture of censure, need and puzzlement.

Her next question was inevitable—as was her need to draw even closer to that electrifying orbit. Before she could stop herself, she’d lifted her hand to his taut cheek, traced that stern jaw to the corner of his mouth. His sharp exhale made her shudder.

‘What do you feel?’

‘You don’t want to know,’ he muttered thickly.

‘Maybe I do. Maybe for once I want to hear you vocalise what you actually feel, Bastien.’

He closed his eyes for a split second. ‘Mon Dieu...’

She rose on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his, the need a wild clamour that wouldn’t be stopped. His hands clamped on her immediately. One at her waist, the other in her hair. He held her prisoner and deepened the kiss, his groan a rough, hungry sound. He branded her with his mouth and his hands and she willingly gave him complete access.

It might have been seconds or minutes later that she found herself on her back on a lounger, his head between her bared breasts, her swimsuit bunched somewhere around her waist. Her hoarse cry when his fingers slid beneath her suit to tease her wet heat made him raise his head. His eyes were molten with intense need.

‘You want to know how I feel? Right now I want to take you, possess you, make you forget every other man who has come before me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’ve been under my skin since the first time I saw you. A precocious kid who wouldn’t take no for an answer. You watched me with those soulful eyes and dogged my every step until I couldn’t move without you tripping me up. You’re still under my skin. Everywhere I look you’re on a billboard or on the side of a bus. Except now you make me ache—make me crave things I do not want to crave.’

‘And you hate me for that?’

His smile made her breath catch.

‘I hate that you have a certain...power over me. I cannot allow that.’ His fingers moved and his mouth closed over her nipple.

She shuddered as his imposing erection pressed deeper into her belly. ‘So...what? You’re going to use your position to bring me to heel? Or are you going to use sex?’

A part of her couldn’t deny the thought excited her, but another part recoiled from the idea.

He froze and locked eyes with her. A frown slowly creased his brow, then his gaze drifted over her semi-nude body. He swallowed and shook his head, as if divesting himself from the clutches of a bad dream.

He started to rise but she locked her fingers behind his head.

‘Bastien...’ She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say but she hated the look in his eyes.

He firmly disentangled himself from her and stood. ‘I’m ashamed to admit that was my intention.’ He shoved a hand through his hair. ‘What did you say—sex sells? How very right you are.’

The delivery was cold. And although most of the censure in his voice was directed at himself, a healthy dose spilled her way.

Rushing to rise and right her clothes, she felt fury cut through her lust haze. ‘You can’t fire me for doing my job, Bastien!’

He turned away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. ‘No, but I will keep a close eye on you from now on.’

‘Go ahead. And be sure to send me a thank-you bonus when your sales go through the roof.’ Burning at the thought of that day, Ana glared at Bastien. ‘So things got out of hand before we could stop ourselves? That’s what you get for being so vile!’

He stared back for several seconds, then shrugged. ‘Let’s blame my unexpected discovery of just who it was my marketing people had chosen for my campaign.’

She frowned. ‘You mean you didn’t know?’

‘I’m not in the habit of micromanaging my businesses. You, on the other hand, knew who you would be working for. Why did you take the assignment?’

‘Because I foolishly hoped the past could remain in the past.’ She locked eyes with him, saw the stormy emotions swirling in his grey eyes. ‘Surely you can’t blame me for what happened sixteen years ago?’

She hated herself for caring enough to want to know, but the idea that they would be locked in that volatile winter for ever made her heart lurch sickeningly.

For several seconds he said nothing. Then, ‘No, but it doesn’t make the reminder of that time any less palatable.’

His response dashed the tiny burgeoning hope she’d harboured.

‘So you’re saying you’ll never look at me and not remember what happened then?

‘Non.’

An icy numbness settled over her. ‘Well, I guess that’s definitive enough. Oh, and for what it’s worth, I never set out to use my body to convince you to let me keep my job. What happened...just happened.’

‘A lot of things “just happen” with you around, I’m discovering.’

Anger washed away the numbness. ‘Oh, screw you, Bastien,’ she flung at him, then flushed from head to toe at her unfortunate choice of words.

He laughed—the sound as unexpected as it was pleasing. She gave in to a reluctant smile and breathed easier.

* * *

‘I asked for your suitcase to be delivered to the cabin. Perhaps you’d like to change once we reach cruising altitude?’ he suggested, bringing her back to the present.

His consideration made her soften. Nodding, she relaxed her taut muscles a fraction—only to tense again as her bare leg rubbed against his calf. Heat dragged low in her belly and a familiar tingling shot to the apex of her thighs.

Clamping her legs tightly together, she muttered, ‘Thank you.’ The quicker she was out of his presence, out of this dress and back in the comfort of jeans and a top, the better she’d feel.

Grabbing a magazine from the nearby stack, she flipped blindly through the glossy pages.

‘There’s also a shower if you wish to make use of it.’

She froze, refusing to think of Bastien naked, wet or otherwise. But a persistent image took root, imprinted itself on her brain and sent her heart-rate soaring.

His added, ‘It’s not large, but it’ll do,’ caused her hand to tremble so badly she dropped the magazine.

What on earth was wrong with her?

She darted a glance at him to see if he’d witnessed her discomfort. His nostrils were pinched, his jaw clenched, his eyes a shade that reminded her of how he looked when he was aroused.

She tried to look away. His gaze held her prisoner. Images of him underneath a shower, naked, flooded her mind. Ripples of desire surged through her abdomen, radiated outwards until her limbs felt weak, leaden.

Slowly his eyes swirled with heat, like the smoke from a rumbling volcano just before it erupted. She didn’t have much experience when it came to men, but an unavoidable by-product of her profession was learning very quickly to interpret lust.

Bastien’s eyes reflected a danger that would consume her given half a chance. Her breath locked; that secret, swollen place between her legs throbbed harder.

His gaze dropped to her exposed thighs and lingered for endless seconds, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Heat continued to drag through her. Unable to stay still, she slowly crossed her legs.

Bastien followed the movement, his eyes roving over her until she wanted to scream...scream something at him.

The loud ‘ding’ signalling the seatbelts sign being turned off jerked her out of the dangerous quicksand. A moment later the stewardess pushed back the curtain and stepped into the cabin.

Dazed, Ana watched Bastien’s eyelids sweep down, veil his expression. Pressing a button in the wall, he pulled out a laptop and slid it open.

She envied his steely control, wished she could harvest a tiny fraction of it and not feel as if the maelstrom of sensations buffeting her body would rip her in two.

The stewardess set down a tray of drinks. Before she could serve them, Bastien said, ‘Mathilde, please show Miss Duval to the bedroom.’ His voice too was smooth as silk.

‘Of course.’

‘We’ll eat when you return,’ he said, without looking up from his papers.

Ana struggled to her feet, irritated and more than a little bit confused.

The last thing she needed was to develop any feelings for Bastien. But for the life of her she couldn’t seem to draw on the composed, unruffled demeanour she usually projected for the camera.

The thought scared her more than she cared to admit. Was Bastien right? Would they never be able to be in each other’s presence without the past rearing its dangerous head? And would this insane attraction eventually whizz itself out of control? Or would it grow stronger, like a tornado, devouring everything in its path?

She summoned a smile when Mathilde indicated the cabin door to her left.

In a large mahogany-panelled bedroom, Ana found herself alone for the first time since being taken from her cell that morning. She froze when she realised she hadn’t even thought of her predicament for the last hour.

Her hands trembled as she grappled with the realisation that Bastien, despite his high-handed and autocratic attitude, made her feel...safe.

It was the same feeling that had compelled her to continually seek him out at his parents’ house sixteen years ago—had made her ignore his keep out demeanour.

Never mind the excitement bubbling underneath her skin, the heat scouring her abdomen in that dangerous, delicious manner whenever she was close to him, her underlying feeling with Bastien was that he would never deliberately hurt her.

Which was completely irrational, of course.

Hoping that time away from his unsettling presence would restore her equilibrium. along with her common sense, she shed the offensive silk dress and entered the bathroom.

What it lacked in space it made up for in opulence and accessories. Cosmetics designed for both sexes adorned the shelf space. For a charged, insane moment her mind conjured up Bastien sharing this bedroom with a lover, showering with her in this bathroom.

With a hiss of impatience she stripped off her panties and stepped beneath the warm spray. What Bastien did with his lovers was nothing to do with her.

Soaping her body, she washed quickly, resolutely refusing to think about the man who could flip her world upside down with minimal effort and thinking instead of who had gone to such lengths to frame her.

For a wild moment Ana wondered if her mother had been behind the frame-up. But that didn’t make sense. Lily Duval would never mess with the source of her income. Getting Ana thrown off the DBH campaign would attract the sort of scandal her mother craved, but even she wouldn’t bite the hand that fed her.

Which meant there were no other suspects in the frame.

Sighing, Ana turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. Padding to the bedroom, she unzipped her suitcase...

And flicked through the packed clothes with growing horror.

The jeans, cotton tops and wool-blend sweaters she’d expected were nowhere in sight. Instead she pulled out the skimpy outfits from her last fashion show, saucy lingerie from a recent underwear shoot and silk, lace, sheer chiffon see-through wisps of nothing that made up the theme of this year’s spring/summer collection.

Sinking onto the bed, Ana crushed a silk bra in her fist.

It didn’t take a genius to work out that Simone, believing Ana was embarking on a torrid love affair, had packed clothes fit for a woman out to drive her lover crazy with lust.

She choked off a feverish bubble of laughter and dug through her case with renewed vigour, a cry of relief escaping when she grasped what felt like denim.

Pulling it out, her spirits sank lower. The material of the jeans was slashed in so many suggestive places it was downright indecent. She’d modelled them two weeks ago, on a shoot for an up-and-coming designer. Once on, they would cling like a second skin, the stretchy material revealing even more flesh.

Another frenzied search produced a soft cashmere sweater. The batwing design covered her arms, although it left her with an exposed cleavage and back, and its dramatic style made wearing a bra nonsensical. Not great, but at least it covered her midriff.

Curbing a growl of frustration, she passed a brush through her hair, trying not to look into the floor-length mirror next to the bathroom door as she did so.

She gathered her hair on top of her head and pinned it in place. Bastien already thought she used her body to achieve her own ends. His opinion of her couldn’t sink any lower. Besides, she’d endured worse looks from men in the past.

But none of them made your pulse hammer so hard, or made you aware of every erratic breath you took.

Pursing her lips, she grasped the door handle and opened it.

Bastien’s huge frame filled the doorway.

‘Are you stalking me?’ she snapped.

His mouth quirked. ‘I was beginning to wonder whether you’d launched yourself out of the nearest air lock.’ His penetrating gaze captured hers and something throbbed to life in her chest.

‘The idea was tempting, but the thought of food won against the need to escape.’ Her stomach rumbled in agreement and she grimaced.

‘Then by all means come, let’s satisfy your hunger...’ he drawled mockingly—then froze, his gaze fixed over her shoulder.

Cringing, Ana glanced back at the clothes strewn on the bed.

She rushed to the bed and lunged for the clothes. Only to stop when his suppressed hiss made her head jerk around. His eyes were riveted on her behind, his laser gaze burning right through the wide slash in the jeans exposing half her bottom.

‘When I suggested presentable clothes, this wasn’t what I had in mind,’ he rapped out, his face taut with more than a hint of wild hunger.

Roiling emotions jerked through her. ‘This wasn’t what I had in mind, either. But that’s what you get for not giving me a chance to pack my own clothes.’

Crossing his arms over his chest, he rested one muscled shoulder against the doorjamb. ‘So this is my fault? Don’t get me wrong—I’m not complaining at the view. Merely thinking that January in Geneva isn’t the time to be exposing acres of flesh, delectable though it might be.’

‘Well, until I can buy myself a coat you’ll just have to avert your eyes. Or is that really the problem?’ she challenged, then kicked herself at poking the dragon.

‘I assure you, controlling my baser urges has never been my problem, Miss Duval. Right now you’re more in danger of contracting pneumonia than attracting my attention.’

‘Watch it, Bastien, you’re being vile again,’ she snapped.

He shoved a hand through his hair, ruffling the smooth blond waves. ‘You drive me to it.’ He stopped and breathed deep. ‘If you want to eat, come now. The food’s getting cold.’

Tight-jawed, he stepped aside and waited for her to precede him.

Ana suppressed the impulse to refuse food, slid past him and hurried to her seat, keenly aware of his merciless scrutiny as he followed.

She polished off Caesar salad and a basket of warm French bread in record time, then sat back in her seat.

Exhaustion had sapped her strength. Their verbal wrangling on top of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours was taking its toll. The warm shower had helped, but weariness still tugged relentlessly at her muscles.

When he moved away and opened his laptop again after their meal she breathed a sigh of relief and retreated to the farthest club chair, trying to formulate a plan of action on how to defend herself against her charges.

Within minutes she’d given up, her concentration having fractured every time she came within touching distance of a coherent thought. Instead her brain remained locked on the look on Bastien’s face when she’d turned around in the bedroom. The naked hunger that had burned in his slate-grey eyes replayed itself over and over in her mind until breathing became difficult.

Desperate to escape the cloying atmosphere, she almost applauded when the stewardess announced that they were landing in fifteen minutes.

The plane had barely taxied to a halt when Bastien looked up and issued a command in French to the stewardess. She retreated to the back of the aircraft and returned with a long, faux-fur-lined coat, which she handed to Ana.

It was only after she’d gratefully shrugged into the warm coat that a distasteful thought occurred to Ana.

‘Who does this coat belong to?’ she asked past the inexplicably jarring thought that it might belong to someone he’d been with, perhaps even touched with the same hunger he’d touched her with on his boat.

The sensation was so strong that she was halfway to tearing off the garment when his voice stopped her.

‘Mathilde keeps a selection of clothes to accommodate the different temperatures around the world. I suggest you wipe that sour look off your face and show some gratitude,’ he mocked.

Heat suffused Ana’s face. ‘I’m sorry...’

He waved her away. ‘Save it, Miss Duval. You can’t help who you are.’

Without waiting for the pilot Bastien reached past her, pulled down the handle and thrust open the heavy plane door. Cold air rushed into the cabin, accelerating the freeze seizing her insides.

She rushed after him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

He turned and immediately the cold receded. She felt hot, stung alive by the heated censure blazing from his eyes.

‘You breathe your sexuality. I offered the use of my shower and immediately you thought of us, wet, sharing that confined space. When I came to the bedroom door your pulse thundered, and if I were a betting man I’d wager that you couldn’t keep thoughts of us in my bed out of your mind. Even sharing a meal with me just now got you so hot and bothered you couldn’t formulate a civilised conversation. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.’

She gasped. ‘Yes! No! That’s totally out of— I dare you to tell me you weren’t thinking those same thoughts!’

Surprise preceded a flare of heat across his cheekbones. Then he shrugged. ‘Perhaps. But I’m better at compartmentalising my emotions than you are. I don’t rush to assumptions.’

‘Oh, really? You’ve rushed to find me guilty of everything so far.’

‘Because I can’t ignore the evidence. To overlook it would be extremely naïve. And that is one thing I’m not.’

Her fingers clutched the lapels of her borrowed coat at her throat, as if she would keep his sharp words out. ‘Of course not. You’re above reproach, above temptation, unlike the rest of us mere mortals. But you know what suppressing your feelings does to you eventually? It deadens you inside.’

His brow quirked in silent mockery. ‘You think I’m dead inside?’

He seized one of her hands and laid it flat against his chest. His heart beat heavy and steady beneath her palm before he drew it slowly down, past his belt, to the thick evidence of his manhood.

‘I don’t think you want a reminder of how quickly I can refute that statement, cherie.’

She heard movement behind her and wrenched her hand free as the pilot and Mathilde approached. Bastien grasped her arm and propelled her down the short steps.

Ana forced one foot in front of the other, reeling from Bastien’s words as they approached a black Bentley waiting on the tarmac.

‘Our last encounter confirmed to me that you’re an intensely sexual creature, Miss Duval, with impulses that define who you are,’ he whispered into her ear.

The sound of her name on his lips, spoken with that sexy French lilt, caused her stomach to flip in the most alarming way, making her miss the actual words he’d uttered.

‘Don’t presume that you and I are the same.’

Anger finally loosened her tongue. ‘That’s great—because I wouldn’t wish to be anything like you if you paid me a billion dollars.’ Snatching her arm away, she stalked to the car and slid into the seat.

He followed, and for the second time that day she found herself enclosed in the back of a luxury car with Bastien Heidecker. Only this time they weren’t on opposite sides. This time he slid in next to her, his thigh coming to rest so dangerously close to hers that heat from his body surrounded her like a force field.

He started to reach for his seatbelt and her eyes dropped to the hard expanse of his chest underneath the fitted cotton shirt. She glanced up quickly and met his mocking gaze. Traitorously, another wave of heat crawled up her face.

‘Save the act, Miss Duval. Pretending outrage while your eyes devour me wears thin after a while,’ he sliced at her.

‘God, you are full of yourself, aren’t you? The outrage is real. I’ve never met anyone more infuriating than you. And there’s nothing remotely sexual about that!’

She was so intent on congratulating herself with her comeback she didn’t acknowledge the charged silence until his hand landed on her shoulder.

‘Then this shouldn’t affect you too much.’

‘Wha—?’

His lips slanted over hers before the word could come out.

Ana’s world imploded.

Every coherent thought, every ounce of outrage, fled as she experienced Bastien—up close and devastatingly personal.

His kiss started out as a ruthless lesson and very quickly became something else. Something that made her stomach muscles quiver.

His lips, hot and urgent, branded hers, evoking such electrifying reactions she could do nothing but cling on, open herself to the pleasure drenching her.

Never had she been kissed like this. Never had need pummelled her so relentlessly. The fist she aimed at his chest unfurled and slid over warm corded muscles to band around his neck. Thick, luxurious hair caressed her fingertips and she explored the strands, experiencing a whole new sensual feast as she moulded his scalp in her hands. She would never have imagined hair could be this sensual to touch...? Who was she kidding? Everything with Bastien held an extra-special edge that threatened to floor her.

Bastien had called her reaction to him an act. Except it wasn’t an act. The world might think Ana Duval represented sex on legs, but the truth would shock them even more. The fact was that she was as far removed from being sexually promiscuous as was humanly possible.

‘You are an intensely sexual creature...’

No!

So why was she almost prone in the back of a car, with a bristling alpha male who made her panties damp with desire and her pulse hammer as his hot mouth kissed its way down her exposed cleavage?

Ice drenched her, stiffened her body and lent her the strength to push at Bastien’s shoulders. Even so, she couldn’t help a smothered groan when his lips grazed one tight, cashmere-covered nipple. The absence of a bra meant his touch manifested itself much more brazenly, its thrilling effect nearly sending her into orbit. Heat shot from her nipple to her clitoris, drenching her in even more shame.

‘Stop!’

Her frantic cry got through to him. The hands curled possessively around her waist stilled. In the darkness of the car he raised his head and speared her with gunmetal eyes. The hungry blaze in their depths made her quake. His gaze fell to her lips. As if he’d kissed them again they tingled and swelled.

Slowly he rose and settled back into his seat.

Ana struggled up and straightened her clothes. Minutes ticked by. He said nothing—just continued to stare at her.

Trying desperately to hide her flustered state, she fixed her hair and finally faced him. She tried not to think of how his fingers, now clenched into a fist on his thigh, had trailed fire on her skin, how quickly and devastatingly they’d evoked raw, turbulent feelings inside her.

Resolute, she cleared her throat. ‘If you were trying to prove a point with that...that display, I should warn you it proved nothing.’

His face remained impassive. ‘That you feel the need to caution me speaks for itself.’

‘Well, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t pounce on me without warning like that in future.’

His low laugh infused the dark interior of the car with rich sound. ‘You think a gold-embossed request next time is going to make this insane chemistry between us more benign?’

‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t touch me at all.’ She pulled the coat tighter around her, chilled despite the warmth of the car.

Once again she’d let Bastien shake the foundations of her painfully constructed fortress of self-control and allowed her emotions to get the better of her.

How many times had she seen her mother succumb to the emptiness of lust and need, only to be left high and dry and even more embittered? And how many times had she borne the brunt of her mother’s misery? She couldn’t, wouldn’t give in to whatever deceptive, tumultuous sensations Bastien elicited from her.

She was in control of her life, of her feelings. And she aimed for it to stay that way.

‘Promise me it won’t happen again.’ The slight edge to her tone made her suck in a breath and battle to remain calm.

For several seconds he remained silent. Then he hooked a finger under her chin.

* * *

Bastien had watched her struggle to bring herself under control and felt a strange kinship with her as he battled his own raging libido. Things had got out of hand far too quickly.

He knew the full cost of giving one’s emotions free rein. He’d watched his mother wear her heart on her sleeve every day—only to have it exploited, twisted and broken apart until only a shell remained. A shell that had had no use for a son’s presence, never mind his love.

His aim since that bleak winter had been to protect himself against that feeling at all costs. And he’d succeeded...for the most part. Until Ana.

His gaze dropped to her still-damp lips—lips that had tasted much sweeter than he’d remembered from that one other time when he’d lost control and let her slip beneath his guard. The day he’d almost stripped her naked on the deck of his yacht.

His groin hardened all over again as he recalled the smooth valley between her breasts, now fully covered with the wide lapels of a coat two sizes too big. His mouth had grazed the hard nub of her nipple only briefly, but the imprint remained vivid, branded on his lips.

With a swallowed groan he dropped his hand, willed his control back, and cast around wildly for a subject to kill the desire swirling inside him.

‘How’s your mother these days?’

In the dim light her eyes widened warily at the change of subject before she glanced down at her hands. He knew very well that he hadn’t answered her question, or given her the promise she sought. He had no intention of doing so.

Ana Duval had no right to seek promises from him. Certainly not ones he wasn’t entirely sure he could keep. She unsettled him far too much, emotionally and physically, for him to be anywhere near certain about any damned thing.

When she looked up her anxious expression was gone, replaced by an icy hauteur that was meant to freeze him out. He almost laughed.

‘She’s fine—but somehow I think you know that.’

She wasn’t wrong. Lily Duval’s thirst for the limelight made her impossible to ignore.

‘Since we’re being polite, how’s your father?’ she returned, her tone conversational, as if she’d bounced back from the passionate storm that had so nearly ravaged them.

But the wild pulse beating at her throat betrayed her. He prided himself on his control, and even he hadn’t brought his body to heel yet.

‘My father retired seven years ago. He and my mother live in Gstaad for most of the year now.’

His father was living with his guilt from sixteen years ago. Away from the shame he’d brought to his family and the chaos his actions had caused the company.

‘Do you see them often?’ she asked in a low, tentative voice.

He shrugged and answered despite the unsettling ache thinking about his parents brought. ‘I make a trip when my father insists on seeing me.’

‘When was the last time?’

The ache intensified. ‘Three weeks ago.’

As usual his mother had barely known who he was, stoked up by the drugs prescribed for her condition. When his father had tried to prompt her memory he’d only succeeded in agitating her further. The visit had gone downhill very fast and Bastien had left, ignoring his father’s pleas to stay.

‘I’m glad they’re still together,’ she ventured, a wary little smile teasing her lips. ‘Your father was nice to me.’

‘Oui, he’s always had a weakness for a pretty face.’

She flinched, and mingled regret and bitterness bit deep, finally eradicating the last of his unwanted desire. Whereas he’d have smothered the emotions before, this time he gave them space. He needed to remind himself why control over his emotions was imperative. Why the erratic feelings between Ana and him risked pulling away the rivets he’d fastened over his emotions.

Because even as an angelic eight-year-old Ana had charmed and entranced everyone around her—including his father. He remembered his father’s encouragement for Bastien to get to know sweet Ana—‘She’ll be your sister one day, you know.’

The last thing he’d felt towards her then was brotherly, because every time he’d looked at her he’d been reminded that he was witnessing his family’s destruction.

And the woman who sat next to him now, with her smooth legs crossed in the most alluring of ways, her eyelids lowered over chocolate-brown eyes as if keeping seductive secrets from a lover, engendered no brotherly feelings whatsoever inside him. A handful of minutes ago her body, warm and tempting, had surged against his, and her breath had come in passionate pants as she’d lost herself in her pleasure.

Mon Dieu, brotherly was the last thing he’d ever feel towards her.

He clenched his fingers against the urge to grab her chin again and make her look at him; to kiss her again and smother the bitterness of the past and the hunger of the present. He took a deep breath instead, reasserted control and reminded himself of one thing.

Regardless of their past, Ana Duval was as guilty as hell of the chaos now rippling through his life right now. She’d tested his control two months ago and she continued to test the edge of his resolve, reminding him of the vulnerability of emotion.

And that he would not forgive.