Читать книгу Modern Romance October 2016 Books 5-8 - Ким Лоренс, Kate Walker - Страница 12
ОглавлениеBEN CARTER STOOD near the main window in his office, with its impressive views over downtown Manhattan. The thing that usually pleased him most when he took in this view was seeing his construction cranes high in the sky, dotted around the island. Right now, though, he had his back to the view and every line of his body was in defence mode, from his crossed arms to his tense stance.
‘So, I think that about covers it.’
He bit back the urge to ask snarkily if she wanted to know what colour underwear he was wearing today.
The woman seated by his desk glanced at him and observed wryly, ‘You don’t like answering personal questions, do you?’
Ben bared his teeth in a forced smile. ‘Whatever gave you that impression?’
Elizabeth Young, the matchmaker, shrugged nonchalantly as she tapped something into her palm tablet. ‘I think the fact that you look about ready to jump out of the window gives it away.’
Ben scowled and walked back over to his desk. With every question she’d asked—from innocuous ones like, What’s your favourite holiday destination? to more edgy ones like What is it you want from a relationship?—he’d put more and more space between them. As much as he recognised his need for a convenient wife, the quantum leap from a life of no-strings encounters with beautiful women to a committed relationship—albeit for convenience’s sake—was making Ben’s skin prickle uncomfortably.
After witnessing the collapse of his parents’ marriage, which had fallen like a deck of cards at the first sign of trouble, Ben had never entertained notions of domestic bliss.
The matchmaker was right: if he could have jumped from the window he might just have tried it.
He scowled harder as he sat down—who the hell’s idea had this been again? Xander Trakas. Recalling the Greek man’s reaction that night, when Mancini had asked if this woman was an ex-lover, made Ben assess the slim and elegant blonde on the other side of his desk.
Hair that looked as if it tended towards being curly was tied back in a low bun. She was casually dressed, yet smart, in tailored trousers and a loose unstructured top under a fitted soft leather jacket. She oozed elegant style and, he had to admit, discretion and professionalism. Xander had been right.
As she looked at him now, he noticed that her eyes were an unusual shade of amber. Ben waited a beat to see if he had any reaction to her on a physical level. Nothing. He told himself that was good—the last thing he needed now was the distraction of someone he actually desired. Which brought him neatly back to why she was here.
He said, ‘So, now that you’ve mined my soul for every tiny detail, who do you suggest is my best prospect for a partner?’
He saw the unmistakable flash of cynicism in her eyes, and a small smile tipped up her mouth at one side.
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I’m under no illusions. I know that you’ve told me only as much as you want to reveal. I know men like you, Mr Carter, that’s why I’m good at my job.’
Ben decided to ignore the urge to ask exactly what she meant about knowing men like him. If it helped him to achieve what he needed to survive this crisis then what of it? He steepled his hands under his chin and admitted to a grudging respect for the way she wasn’t intimidated by him, as so many were.
‘Xander Trakas recommended you.’
And just like that this woman’s composure slipped slightly, just as Xander’s had that night in the bar, almost a week ago. She wasn’t so sanguine now.
She avoided Ben’s eye, fussing with the tablet. ‘I have lots of connections, he’s just one of them.’
Ben was intrigued by the button he’d obviously just pushed, but not intrigued enough to lose sight of his own goal. He became businesslike and sat forward again. ‘Forget I mentioned it. So, do you have anyone specific in mind?’
She turned her tablet around to face him, laying it flat on the desk, and pushed it towards him. ‘There are some possibilities here. Look through them and see if anyone piques your interest.’
Ben took the tablet and did as she had bid, scrolling through the pictures of women along with a few lines of their bios. They were all stunning in their own ways, and obviously accomplished. He scrolled past a human rights lawyer, the CEO of a software company, a UN interpreter, a supermodel...but none of them jumped out at him. He was about to hand the device back when one last woman appeared on the screen and something inside him went very still.
He didn’t even look at her bio. He was transfixed by her. In the picture her shoulder-length dark brown hair was being blown around her shoulders and face by a breeze and she was laughing into the camera, revealing two dimples. She had high cheekbones and a lush mouth. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d noticed dimples on a woman. Dark blue eyes, long-lashed. She was innocent and sensual all at once. And exquisitely, vibrantly beautiful.
For a second Ben found it hard to breathe. He also had a sense that she was somehow familiar.
Elizabeth obviously sensed his interest. ‘Ah, that’s Julianna Ford. Stunning, isn’t she? She’s British, and based in London, so that could prove a bit of a challenge, but as luck would have it she’s actually in New York this week for a charity benefit.’
Ben frowned sharply and looked up. ‘Ford? As in Louis Ford’s daughter?’
Elizabeth cocked her head. ‘Do you know her?’
He glanced at her picture again before pushing the tablet back towards Elizabeth. ‘I know of her. I met with her father a few years ago. I tried to persuade him to sell his business to me. He spoke of her, and I saw her pictures around his house, but she wasn’t there at the time.’
Ben struggled to remember. She’d been away on holiday...skiing? Whatever her father had said about her, it had reinforced the impression he’d formed of her at the time: she was the spoiled and pampered only daughter of a doting billionaire father.
Ben had experienced that scene while in London, where the rich partied alongside royalty and to excess. He’d hated it. It had been a forcible reminder of the fact that if his father hadn’t been so corrupt Ben would have still been part of that world too. Still living a blinkered life, blind to harsh reality. The harsh reality that had reshaped him into the man he was today. Answerable to no one and with his astronomical success bedded so firmly into the earth that he would never suffer the same fate as his parents—being at the mercy of volatile markets with no solid investments to speak of.
Ben diverted his mind from old and painful memories and focused on the matchmaker. And the future. Not the past. What she was handing him here was an opportunity not to be missed. The Ford construction company, with its solid black font signage against a dark green background, was a ubiquitous sight on construction hoardings in Britain.
Ben knew what a coup it would be to gain a foothold in Europe by acquiring one of its most respected companies—which was why he’d gone after it once before. Louis Ford had resisted his advances then, in spite of his rumoured ill health, but Ben had been keeping an eye on him ever since, and he realised now that Ford had gone quiet in recent months. Very quiet.
And now the man’s daughter was here. Looking for a date.
Suddenly Ben realised that Julianna Ford represented the solution to all his problems. If he was to take the drastic step of committing to one woman for the sake of his reputation and business, then why not pursue a marriage that came with solid potential for business expansion? If she agreed to marry him Ben’s empire would extend into Europe and he would have reached the very pinnacle of everything he’d set out to achieve. All with a stunningly beautiful wife by his side.
He looked at Elizabeth and a sense of delicious anticipation coiled through his gut. He said, ‘She’s the one I want to meet. You can set up the date.’
* * *
Lia Ford was trying to curb her mounting anger, but it was hard. Her stiletto heels clacked sharply along the wide Manhattan pavement, as if to underscore her volatile mood.
First she was angry with her father for his meddling ways, even if his heart was in the right place. And then she was angry with her father’s secretary, for following her father’s instructions to give all of Lia’s information to Leviathan Solutions. She was even angry about the photo that had been given to the agency—one her father had taken, catching Lia off-guard during a happy sailing trip. A far too personal memento for a dating website!
As the Leviathan agency’s global operations were based in New York, Lia had gone to Elizabeth Young’s Manhattan office earlier that day, as soon as she’d found out—thanks to her father presenting it to her as a fait accompli over the phone. ‘See, my darling? I’ve done it all for you! Now all you have to do is meet some nice young man!’ Lia had been ready to demand that all her details be removed...only to be informed that someone had already signalled his interest in dating her.
And Elizabeth Young had surprised Lia. She’d been expecting... Actually, she hadn’t been sure what she’d been expecting of a billionaire matchmaker, but it hadn’t been a beautiful young woman of around her own age, whose style reflected Lia’s preferred classic relaxed elegance. Elizabeth Young had also personified professional discretion, which Lia had responded to in spite of herself.
And somehow, while acknowledging Lia’s reluctance to accept the date, Elizabeth had somehow skilfully managed to persuade her to give this one date a chance. And then she’d shown Lia a picture of the man in question.
It had taken Lia a few long seconds to look past the piercing blue eyes and the boldly handsome and very masculine features. With his thick dark hair, he oozed sexy confidence and virility. Exactly the kind of man that Lia instinctively shied away from—because a personality like that brought up all her most secret vulnerabilities. And a reminder of another too confident personality who’d had no time for Lia’s innate shyness—her mother, who had walked out on Lia and her father when Lia was just ten years old.
And yet she’d felt a disconcerting flutter of very feminine awareness at the man’s sheer masculinity. It was most unwelcome. She wasn’t interested in dating. She’d tried to please her father before—even going so far as to consider marriage, becoming engaged—but that had ended in abject humiliation when she’d surprised her fiancé in his office one day and found him with his face buried between his secretary’s spread legs as she’d lain back across his desk, moaning loudly, her hands locked in his hair.
‘You’re frigid, Lia,’ he’d hurled at her afterwards. ‘I can’t marry a woman who doesn’t like sex!’
That experience had only reinforced her insecurities, and she’d vowed since then to focus on her career and prove to her father that she could stand on her own two feet. Unfortunately his habitual ill health meant that she’d spent more time shoring up the family business than focusing on her own ambitions...
Elizabeth Young had brought Lia back to the present with a bump, though, when she’d revealed who the mysterious man was and recognition of his name had made Lia’s gaze narrow on the woman on the opposite side of the desk. ‘Benjamin Carter? As in Carter Construction?’
Elizabeth Young had nodded. ‘Yes, he said he knew of you, actually, even though he’s never met you. He had some business with your father a while ago?’
Every protective hackle inside Lia had risen. It had been a couple of years ago when Benjamin Carter had come to the UK and tried to take over Ford Construction. Her family business. Her father had rebuffed Carter and his very generous offer, but his health, which had always been weak, and particularly weakened at that time, thanks to a nasty bout of pneumonia, had worsened.
If she’d met Benjamin Carter then she would have told him where to go and saved her father that relapse. Louis Ford was so proud, though, that he would have died before he’d let anyone see how frail he really was. Especially someone like the American construction mogul whom her father had described as ‘formidable’.
And now Benjamin Carter wanted to meet her for a date? If this was mere coincidence then she was the Sugar Plum Fairy.
Lia stopped at a pedestrian crossing and forced herself to regulate her breath. She knew she could have just called the date off—instructed Elizabeth Young to inform Benjamin Carter that she wasn’t available for any dates while she was in New York as she didn’t live there—but she’d felt the compelling urge to inform the man emphatically and in person that there would be no route for him to get to her father. And certainly not through her.
On the other side of the street the majestic beaux arts Algonquin Hotel soared into the sky. They were due to meet in the darkly seductive Algonquin bar. And now all she could seem to think of was his boldly handsome features and those blue eyes. She found herself feeling slightly breathless, wondering how tall he would be. How big.
The pedestrian lights said Walk and Lia stepped into the road, assuring herself fiercely that Benjamin Carter would undoubtedly prove to be a disappointment in the flesh, as so many public figures did. Not, she hurriedly assured herself, that she was going to be hanging around long enough to check him out. No, she was going to waste no time informing him that—
Smack!
Lia’s thoughts were scattered to pieces as she ran into a brick wall just outside the hotel. Gasping for air, she looked up to find that this particular brick wall was actually a very tall human. And very male. And very broad. With piercing blue eyes.
So not a wall at all. Dimly she registered that Benjamin Carter wasn’t a disappointment in the flesh. Far from it. He was...more. He smiled, and she noticed the sculpted sensuality of his lips.
‘I’m sorry, I hadn’t planned on a collision as our introduction. I saw you crossing the street and recognised you from your photo, so I thought I’d wait for you. Are you okay?’
His voice was rich and deep enough to impact on her on a physical level. Lia felt a bit stupid, and put it down to the momentary shock and lack of breath. She nodded and managed to get out, ‘Fine...just fine.’
She’d been so preoccupied with meeting him that she’d walked right into him. She realised then that her hands were wrapped around his arms to steady herself, obviously having landed there instinctively. She could feel hard biceps, even through the material of his overcoat, and she snatched her hands back as if they were burning.
He looked at her for a long moment and then stood back, indicating with a hand. ‘Please—ladies first.’
Irritated that the wind had been knocked out of her—literally—Lia had no choice but to proceed to the front door, where a doorman was waiting, holding the door open, tipping his hat to her as she entered.
She heard him say to the man behind her, ‘Welcome back, Mr Carter.’
‘Thank you, Tom, always a pleasure.’
Lia felt like scowling at his smooth delivery, even though she had to acknowledge that her first cataclysmic encounter with the man didn’t make her think of smooth at all. It had brought to mind lots of things—none of which were smooth. Big, powerful, strong. Immovable. That was what came to mind.
He was behind her now and she could smell his scent—as masculine as he was, and evocative more than overpowering.
The maître d’ came forward to greet them at the entrance to the dark and lushly decorated bar, clicking his fingers for a staff member to come and divest them of their coats. Lia wanted to protest that she wasn’t staying long, but before she could speak their coats had expertly been taken and she was being led further into the seductive space, to an intimate table for two at the back.
Giving in to the inevitability of at least explaining herself to this man, she slid into the velvet banquette seat at the wall and watched as Benjamin Carter folded his tall frame into a seat opposite her. She sucked in as much oxygen as she could, desperately hoping that her sense of equilibrium would return after the shock of that impact.
Now his coat was gone she saw that he wore a three-piece suit. Dark grey tie. She also recognised with a disturbing flash of heat, that in spite of his very suave exterior there was an unmistakable edge of something dangerous and uncivilised about the man. It was in the way his muscles pushed against the fabric of his jacket. As if he was more warrior than urbane businessman.
That realisation sent a shard of panic to her gut, and with a rush Lia started to speak. ‘Look, Mr Carter—’
The words dried up when he held out his hand and smiled, drawing her gaze helplessly to his mouth. A full lower lip and a slightly thinner upper lip—diminishing any prettiness and giving him that sensual edge that made her aware of him in a way that no man had ever made her feel before. Certainly not her ex-fiancé.
‘Forgive me. I never introduced myself properly, I’m Benjamin Carter.’
A lifetime of manners being drummed into her by her father and strict boarding schools couldn’t let her ignore his hand. She reached out, intending it to be a sterile and quick transaction, but the first thing that registered when his hand encompassed hers was a surprising roughness, which only reinforced her impression of him being less civilised than he looked.
She felt a pulse throb between her legs...her intimate flesh reacting to his touch. It was so powerful that she pressed her thighs together, and her fingers tightened reflexively around his in reaction as she said faintly, ‘I’m Julianna—Julianna Ford.’
* * *
As slim, feminine fingers tightened around his all Ben could think about was how it would feel when other, more intimate muscles would tighten around a more sensitive part of his anatomy. He’d never had such an immediately carnal response to a woman, but the feel of her slimly curvaceous body colliding with his outside the hotel had had an impact he couldn’t ignore.
He’d seen her from across the street, an intent look on her face, a small frown between her eyes. And then, as her long legs had closed the distance between them, he’d been too mesmerised by her graceful movements to budge an inch.
And then she’d cannoned straight into him.
The lush imprint of her soft breasts against his chest was still vivid. As soon as their bodies had collided lust had hit him like an injection of adrenalin to his heart. And it hadn’t been one-sided; he’d seen the effect on her too. Those widening shocked eyes. Her cheeks flooding with colour. Her hands tightening around his arms. She was tall enough for him to have just dipped his head down slightly to claim that provocative mouth, if he’d so wished.
And now he was drowning in dark blue eyes, glossy dark brown hair, pale ivory skin and that mouth, so sweetly curved it was all he could do not to sweep the table to one side and devour her right here.
She was stunning. Exquisite.
And she was pulling her hand back from his now with a little tug. He let her go, reluctantly.
A waiter came to take their drinks order. Julianna appeared flustered for a moment, and then quickly ordered a bourbon on the rocks. Ben ordered a soda water.
When they were alone again Ben dragged his mind out of the carnal gutter and said, ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.’
She looked at him and his blood surged south and his flesh hardened. Ben cursed the rush of rogue hormones. It wasn’t even as if she was wearing anything overtly provocative. A pale silk shirt that was buttoned to her throat and a dark pencil skirt. Discreet make-up and jewellery. High heels. Classic. Elegant. But as far as his libido was concerned she might as well be naked.
‘Look—’ she said, but was cut off when the waiter returned with their drinks, setting them down.
Ben noticed that she took a swift sip of the amber liquid before putting the glass down again.
She appeared edgy all of a sudden, and he made allowances for the fact that she was nervous, saying, ‘I believe you’re only here for a week? You’re based in London?’
She swallowed and his eyes followed the movement. Even that small movement was graceful. Her refined elegance was impacting upon him somewhere deep. And it surprised him. He’d long ago rejected the cool upper-class beauties who thronged around him—drawn by the hard shell he knew he wore, hewn over years of hard graft as he’d remoulded himself into something much more durable. He knew they were attracted to the rough edges he’d acquired. They didn’t want to know he’d once been one of them. They only wanted the thrill of thinking they were with someone vaguely dangerous. Rough. Someone whose industry was gritty. Base.
He took pleasure in rejecting them because he rejected that world—and yet here he was, sitting mere inches away from a woman who could put all those other society bitches in the shade with a mere arching of her elegant brow. And his blood was pumping so hard and so hot he could hardly think straight.
She looked at him and dark tendrils of hair trailed over her shoulders like silk. ‘I...yes, I’m based in London. So, to be perfectly honest, I think this date is pretty redundant.’
It took a second for her cut-glass English accent to sink in—and her words. And then they did...along with the very cool expression on her face.
Ben blinked. ‘So why agree to a date if it’s redundant?’
Her gaze narrowed and she took a deep breath, and despite the sudden chill in the air Ben’s gaze helplessly dropped down to take in the press of those luscious breasts against the thin silk of her blouse.
‘Because I wanted to meet you face to face and tell you that I know you met my father before, when you tried to take him over.’
Ben’s gaze snapped back to her dark blue one. The heat in his blood simmered, not diminishing under the positively frosty vibes she was sending his way now. He hid his surprise that she’d registered the connection and shrugged nonchalantly. ‘It’s a small world.’
She sounded bitter. ‘Evidently too small.’ She took another sip of her drink, her fingers pale around the heavy glass.
Ben tensed. ‘What exactly are you saying?’
Now she looked almost angry, with two spots of colour coming into her pale cheeks. ‘What I’m saying, Mr Carter—’ she put heavy emphasis on his name, as if he might still be under any illusion that things weren’t deteriorating rapidly ‘—is that, based on your previous history with my father, you can’t seriously expect me to believe that this date is pure coincidence?’
Ben thought of how mesmerised he’d been by that photo of her and felt exposed. Her cynicism shouldn’t have surprised him, but somehow it did. He was on high alert now. Carefully, he said, ‘I can’t say that it’s pure coincidence, no. I am aware of who you are—who your father is.’
She smiled, but it was hard. ‘And so you saw an opportunity and grabbed it?’
Ben forced a smile too, in some kind of an effort to try and relieve the tension. ‘Evidently you joined the Leviathan agency because you’re interested in dating, I would have thought the fact that we have something in common is a good conversation-starter.’
Julianna’s eyes glittered like dark sapphire jewels. ‘Well,’ she said coolly, ‘I’m afraid I have no interest in starting any kind of conversation with you, Mr Carter. I came here merely to inform you of that, in case you’d be left in any doubt.’
With that, she downed the rest of her drink in one go and gathered up her bag, which was on the seat beside her.
She stood up and looked down at him. ‘And as for my father—his position has not changed, so I suggest you seek your opportunities elsewhere. Thank you for the drink, Mr Carter, I’ll see myself out.’
Before Ben could fully process what was happening she was hitching her bag strap onto her shoulder and walking away from the table.
Ben finally stood up, his reflexes dulled, thanks to shock, and was just in time to see the anxious-looking maître d’ helping her with her overcoat. Then she was walking out of the bar without a backward glance.
Ben looked at his watch incredulously. The date had lasted less than fifteen minutes.
He sat down again, her haughty accent reverberating in his head. ‘I suggest you seek your opportunities elsewhere.’ If it wasn’t so disturbing it would be funny, but the fact was that her father had been the furthest thing from his mind until she’d brought him up.
Julianna Ford, with her glacial dark blue eyes and her upper crust accent, had just pulled the rug out from under Ben’s feet. And it was only now that he fully registered that last look she’d sent him—disdainful and dismissive. As if he wasn’t fit to clean her shoes.
Ben signalled for the bill. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that and, even though he knew he should be writing Julianna Ford off as a spoilt rich bitch, his blood still ran hot. Hot with lingering lust, and hot with irritation that she’d lodged herself so neatly under his skin so quickly.
To say this date had morphed into something out of all expectations was an understatement.
Ben was grim as he walked out just seconds later. No one took him by surprise—certainly not a woman. And definitely not a woman he wanted.
* * *
Lia was still trembling from an overload of adrenalin as the yellow cab took her to her Central Park hotel. And her head felt light with the effects of the alcohol she’d drunk too quickly. It had provided the Dutch courage she’d needed, though, to say what she’d had to say to the most intimidating man she’d ever met.
Even now she could picture him lounging on the other side of the table, all sleek hard muscle and broad shoulders, sheathed in that suit that had done nothing to disguise his crackling virile energy. That sexy smile playing around his mouth.
She couldn’t really believe she’d found the wherewithal to stand and look down at him and deliver those parting words, or that she’d managed to walk out on rubbery legs. She’d been terrified they’d buckle underneath her before she could make it to the door.
She knew she could project an icy veneer of confidence when she needed to—it was a skill she’d honed after her mother had left, when Lia had overheard her saying cuttingly, ‘Of course I’m not taking Lia with me. What can I do with a child who stutters and stammers and blushes every time someone looks at her?’
Even now, all these years later, Lia still felt the faint burn of shame mixed with humiliation. Her father’s subsequent over-lavishing of attention and love upon her hadn’t been able to remove the scar of that rejection, but Lia had never stuttered or stammered again from that day on. The blushing, though... She put a hand to her cheek and it felt hot. Seemingly she still had little control over that.
At least Benjamin Carter had stayed in his seat. The thought of having to say those words to him if he’d uncoiled to his full intimidating height made her throat go dry.
She might—hopefully—have convinced him that he was less interesting than the fungus growing under a rock, but her throbbing pulse told her that he was far from uninteresting to her. And, as successfully as she might have delivered her put-down, that was the real reason why she’d all but run from the hotel, stumbling to a stop outside in the cool autumn air, gulping for breath as if she’d just run a marathon, her heart still pounding.
Thankfully the doorman had hailed her a cab straight away and they were pulling up outside her hotel now. Lia paid and tried not to run into the hotel, feeling irrationally as if a large hand might land on her shoulder at any moment.
The fact that the whole encounter with the construction mogul had veered way out of her control was not something she was going to dwell on. If she had had any tiny doubt that his request to meet her had been entirely innocent, it had been blasted apart by his poker-faced reaction when she’d told him she knew who he was and about his previous encounter with her father. He’d been unapologetic, that incisive gaze reading her reaction like a hawk.
So she was glad she’d gone there and met him. She’d done what she’d set out to do, leaving him in no doubt as to what she thought of any plan he might have to pursue her father.
Or her.
Lia ignored the weirdly hollow feeling in her belly and stepped into a blessedly empty lift. And as for her very unwelcome physical reaction...? The way she still felt jittery, as if her skin was too tight, too hot...? That was just the lingering after-effects of adrenalin.
A sense of futility rose up inside her, a hint of remembered humiliation. After all, she was frigid, wasn’t she? She’d been told that in no uncertain language by the only man she’d ever slept with. And she had the memories of how her body had failed miserably to respond to his lovemaking to back it up. So he must be right.
The lift doors opened and Lia stepped out into the plushly carpeted corridor. As she let herself into her room she ruthlessly pushed down a very alien sense of something that felt awfully like...yearning.
* * *
Ben was back in his vast loft-style apartment a short time later. Sirens pierced the air from far below in the vibrant Meatpacking District, but he was oblivious. Pacing the floor. He’d taken off his jacket and tie, feeling constricted. His head was still full of Julianna Ford, and her cooler than cool aristocratic beauty. The memory of that haughty accent and the way she’d so icily dismissed him made him want to see her come undone, hear her voice hoarse from screaming his name.
Dammit. Since when had he grown such an active imagination?
But something else niggled at him—her hostility, and her immediate leaping to the conclusion that his motivation to date her had something to do with her father. Ben’s conscience niggled, but he pushed it down—he hadn’t tried to pretend to Julianna that he was unaware of who she was. He just hadn’t mentioned it up front.
He thought again of how absent her father had been from view in the last few months and Julianna Ford’s actions took on a much more intriguing light. She’d been...protective—and why would she feel the need to be protective unless her father was ill...weak?
Just then his phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out, scowling when he saw the name Elizabeth Young on the screen.
When he answered she spoke straight away, sounding disapproving, ‘I don’t know what happened between you and Julianna Ford but she’s instructed me that she doesn’t want to meet with you again and to take her profile out of my portfolio.’
That made Ben feel simultaneously annoyed at the confirmation that she didn’t want to see him again, and pleased that she obviously wasn’t eager for a date with any other man. Also, it confirmed his suspicion that she had something to hide...some vulnerability. Because she perceived him to be a threat.
The unmistakable instinct to take up a challenge coursed through his blood. ‘It’s unfortunate that the date didn’t go well, but I’ll take it from here.’
Elizabeth Young was sharp. ‘This is not how I conduct my business, Mr Carter. You can’t pursue her if she’s specifically requested not to see you again.’
Irritation prickled at this reiteration that she didn’t want to see him again—and at the implication that anyone could tell him what to do. But Ben realised that he couldn’t afford to alienate this woman. She was the key to all their futures. Except right now he was determined to take his future into his own hands.
‘You can rest assured, Miss Young. I won’t pursue her again through your agency.’
There was silence for a moment, and then Elizabeth Young said, ‘Thank you. If and when you’re ready to date again we can set up another appointment. But, Mr Carter, I have to warn you that I won’t tolerate anyone alienating my clientele.’
Once again Ben had to admit to a grudging sense of respect for the straight-talking matchmaker. Intimidated by powerful men she obviously was not. He said, ‘Julianna Ford and I had a clash of personality—that’s all. It happens from time to time. If I need you again I’ll call you. Goodbye, Miss Young.’
Ben terminated the call, filled with resolve. A clash of personality it might have been, between him and the lustrous dark-haired British beauty, but electricity had sizzled between them, no matter how icy her demeanour. He knew Julianna Ford was here for a charity function, and New York could be a surprisingly small place when you moved in certain circles. If they happened to meet again it wouldn’t be via Elizabeth Young, as he’d assured her.
Ben made a call on his phone, issuing curt instructions to his assistant on the other end. He told himself that the spiking of anticipation in his blood had more to do with the fact that Julianna Ford represented a chance to achieve his public and professional redemption and less to do with the fact that she’d intrigued the hell out of him with her frosty attitude—or the fact that he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman.
