Читать книгу The Dare Collection: June 2018 - Lauren Hawkeye - Страница 13

CHAPTER FOUR

‘EVERYTHING’S FINE,’ Essie said to Ben. His partner wanted to replace her as if she were...an inconvenience. She’d thrown herself at a man who’d had the sense to resist. And she had no idea where Ben’s head stood and was too scared to ask. Sure, everything was fine.

Essie hunched over the desk and rubbed at a non-existent scratch. Perhaps that was why her joy at his call was diluted. Fear that Ben, too, would agree with Ash and fire her, then disappear from her life as quickly as he’d appeared.

‘Are you sure?’ said Ben.

She pressed the phone to her face and hoped her brother couldn’t hear the blood pounding through her head. She shouldn’t be wallowing—she had work to do. ‘Of course. The decorators finished up today and I’m meeting your head barman soon.’ Ben trusted her with his club, and she wouldn’t allow her frenzied attraction to Ash to make waves or damage his business venture.

No. She and Ash were done.

But the years of self-doubt had infected her fresh start with Ben. Every childhood disappointment, every time her father let her down and every cruel taunt from her overcritical ex rattled in her brain until nausea threatened.

Perhaps Ash was right. She should walk away.

No. She wanted a future as part of Ben’s life. And their father had already robbed her of a past with her only sibling.

‘How are things in New York?’ Had he seen their father? Had Frank Newbold asked about her? She shouldn’t care, but that little girl part of her, the part that had idolised him, had flown into his outstretched arms every time he’d come home, still craved his attention, even when she’d declared herself done with his toxic brand of parenthood.

‘Someone’s putting their hand in the cash register.’

Essie gasped. ‘Oh, no, Ben. That’s terrible.’ A slab of guilt settled on her shoulders. Ben needed drama at The Yard as much as she needed another brush-off from Ash.

‘I’ll sort it out, don’t worry. Did the bank get their signature in time?’

Essie’s face heated with the reminder of what she’d done last night.

‘Yes.’ Despite all the reasons not to, despite Ash’s obvious ability to resist, she yearned for the full-on repeat performance Ash had denied her yesterday.

He’d wanted her—the physical evidence, thick and hard behind his fly, had been irrefutable. She’d never have guessed a sexually charged man like Ash possessed so much command over his body. Or her so little.

The trust between her and Ash was non-existent. He seemed to think she was some sort of industrial spy out to ruin his investment and she couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t sack her at any moment, regardless of her relationship to Ben. But she wanted him anyway. Physically. Another new experience for her.

She’d trusted her ex with a blind faith that left her curled into a tight ball. She’d been so desperate to make just one relationship work that she’d ignored the warning signs—the criticisms, the bullying, the control. When he’d finally grown bored and left her on the grounds that she was too clingy, and she’d seen clearly for the first time how dysfunctional the relationship had been, she’d vowed never again to give someone that kind of power.

And she certainly wouldn’t give it to Ash.

But, she’d known the minute he’d stepped from his en-suite bathroom, droplets of water dotting his sculpted torso with only the towel and his scowl as a barrier, she’d intended to make good on her plan to seduce him then walk away. A plan that had put the control of their rampant sexual attraction firmly in her hands.

But that chemistry between them had become a magnetised force field drawing her in, and her plan had backfired. She’d seduced him all right, but she’d bungled it. Failed to put a stop to the wild kissing and grinding that had scored her another orgasm, but scored Ash another point on his ‘ability to resist her’ scale.

‘Are you and Ash getting to know each other?’ Ben’s voice pulled her back from thoughts of Ash’s naked body, every inch of him hard and straining...

No.

Ash was getting to know how easily he could turn her on to the point of spontaneous combustion. How eagerly she surrendered to their physical need that flared to life like a science experiment gone wrong. How her traitorous body succumbed to the pleasure he crafted so effortlessly.

The only positive outcome, aside from the fantastic sex, was that her blog post on one-night stands had been quoted on one of the UK’s top online women’s magazines and reposted over and over on social media. It seemed people loved Illegally Hot. The spike in followers and comments had, only this morning, spurred Essie into publishing another article featuring the panty-melting Illegally Hot, entitled Dares, Disasters and Don’t Go Theres—those relationships we knew were bad for us, but we craved them anyway—drawing on last night’s disappointing disaster. As if purging her thoughts, her fears, her doubts in cyberspace would cure her of her irresistible and seemingly one-sided attraction to Ash Jacob.

It was wrong, but she couldn’t deny the buzz that the soar of popularity delivered. She’d always considered her blog as something of a hobby, but, with her PhD complete, perhaps the boost in credibility was just what she needed to take herself more seriously as a writer. She could even start running some pay-per-click ads...invite experts in the field to guest blog... She scribbled down some ideas while she zoned back to answering her brother’s question. ‘Not really.’ Apart from Ash’s bedroom skills and his considerable control, she knew zilch. A fact her analytical brain tolerated poorly.

‘What’s his deal? He seems a little...uptight.’

Plus he hated her, wanted to fire her and didn’t trust her.

‘Has he upset you?’ The fact that Ben had protective instincts towards her left her gooey inside. But the only thing she needed protection from was her own reckless libido. The goo turned to brittle concrete.

‘No, of course not.’ Another lie. Because she was upset. Upset that she’d buckled to her searing attraction to the infuriating man, who displayed enough warning signs to send her running. And furious that she couldn’t be certain, given half a chance, she wouldn’t do it all over again.

‘He...he said he doesn’t trust people.’ What was that about? Just her? Women in general? The entire world?

‘He is a bit closed off...’ A small sigh.

Closed off? A massive understatement. She’d need a pickaxe to excavate Ash’s psyche.

No. Focus on the sex. Control that.

What was she thinking?

No more sex.

Her voice squeezed past strangled vocal cords. ‘How are you two friends? You’re such a lovely, warm person.’ Ben and Ash had known each other a long time. Essie’s stomach clenched. She’d gatecrashed a long-standing friendship with her ill-judged fling. But it was over now.

Ben chuckled and then went silent. ‘He wasn’t always so...uncompromising. It’s not my story to tell, but let’s just say he was badly hurt by an ex.’

Something they shared in common.

‘It’s left him with trust issues that make him a bit cynical.’

Cynical. Controlled to the point of snapping.

Of course a broken love affair would be to blame. Essie knew both first-hand and professionally that only relationships had the emotional power to wreak such long-lasting havoc. The psychologist in her longed to probe Ash’s secrets in light of this new clue, her resolve to ignore him stretched paper thin.

The least she could do, for Ben’s sake, was try to give the exasperating man the benefit of the doubt professionally while giving him a wide berth personally. Ben deserved better than returning from his business trip to find his partner and his manager at each other’s throats.

Perhaps, with a little subtle digging, she could help him deal with whatever held him back. Because if she knew anything, she knew Ash Jacob was on the run from something. Not a crime...more like a battered heart. She knew the signs—she’d spent years seeing them in the mirror. And she preferred to divert attention to other people’s dysfunctional relationships than focus on her own.

The idea that Ash might be pining for a lost love left a bad taste in her mouth, one without an explanation. A change of subject. ‘I’ll have to speak to you some other time. Josh your star barman is due any minute.’

With her hollow assurances echoing in her head, and her mind racing with Ben’s cryptic confession, she ended the call to her brother just as a text came in.

Josh had arrived.

Essie rushed to the rear entrance to welcome the twenty-one-year-old classics student. They headed to the bar and were halfway through introductions when Ash joined them without being invited.

Essie froze mid-sentence. Her body zinged from relaxed to nerve-tingling awareness.

Josh was handsome in that trendy, glasses-and-beard kind of way. But the mere presence of Ash in the space—his imposing height, intense, bright blue stare and commanding demeanour—shunted the room temperature to stifling. She couldn’t even waft out the pheromones before they had chance to hijack her brain again and enslave her until she started clawing at his sublime suit.

Before she could question his presence, Ash stuck out his hand and introduced himself to Josh. ‘I’m Ash Jacob, co-owner.’ He flicked a curt nod at Essie and took a seat at the bar. ‘Carry on.’

Carry on? Carry on? How was she supposed to do that when the mere sight of him decked out like the sort of lawyer she’d never be able to afford fried all her neuronal impulses not directly relayed to her lady parts and robbed her saliva-making capabilities?

And sitting in on Josh’s orientation? He hadn’t issued an idle threat or exaggerated last night. He didn’t trust her. He intended to watch her every move in case she put a foot wrong and committed some sackable offence. She bristled. As if she’d ever do anything to jeopardise her brother’s enterprise. Did he think she’d put her hand in the till or help herself to the vodka?

Jerk.

All her good intentions to make peace with him, to help him, fled. She’d prove to him that, not only was she one hundred per cent invested in this club, but she could employ similar levels of self-restraint to the ones he’d shown.

She was dreaming if she believed they could be friends—the sexual-attraction barrier loomed in the way like an immovable boulder worthy of Stonehenge. But that didn’t mean she had to act on her...urge. Again.

She led Josh behind the bar, seeking inspiration or at least a distraction from the persistent throb between her legs. How could Ash Jacob’s brand of sex be so addictive? She’d only had one little taste...one and a half. He was orgasm nicotine and her poor brain’s pleasure centres had taken a massive hit. No wonder she was reeling...

‘Ben said you have lots of past experience so feel free to set up the bar area as works best for you.’ The words squeaked past her constricted throat and she bent to slide a box of spirits out of the way.

Josh chatted away, filling the stilted silence with his relevant work experience and his ideas for making the bar space work.

She barely heard a word. Too aware of Ash scraping his keen eyes over her while his mouth formed a mildly amused smirk.

But, oh, what talent that mouth possessed. He should forget about law—his oral skills were seriously wasted in the boardroom. She’d never been so thoroughly kissed, nibbled, licked... Her nipples chafed against her bra and her legs grew restless, desperate to rub together to ease the ache at their juncture.

Sensing a pause in Josh’s speech, Essie forced her mind away from Mr Jacob, orgasm whisperer.

‘What about cocktails? Could you create a house cocktail, something unique, associated only with us?’ She’d made that last bit up on the spur of the moment. She seen it done at other clubs, and it matched the philosophy Ben had for The Yard.

Josh answered and Essie busied her hands with straightening a perfectly aligned row of shot glasses as a substitute for drooling over Ash, who’d narrowed his eyes and begun idly rubbing his lower lip with his thumb and forefinger while he listened and observed.

Forget drooling—she was half tempted to see Josh promptly on his way and ride Ash right where he sat. Or drop to her knees, release him from his sophisticated trousers and swallow him whole. Wipe that smug, self-satisfied grin off his face. Show him she could rile him up as easily, effectively and thoroughly as he did her.

No. They’d been there, done that. The sex was over. She’d humiliated herself enough.

Time to focus on her job and on Ben.

That was the relationship that required her energy. A rewarding sibling bond, family, longevity. Something she’d craved her whole life. After all, she’d put her beloved blog, her future career on partial hiatus just to work alongside her brother. And who knew how long he’d stay in London? If he moved back to New York, the opportunity to build family ties, to be a part of each other’s daily lives, would be severely compromised.

Her stomach pinched as if she’d sucked one of the lemons sitting on the gleaming bar in a glass bowl. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to set up and familiarise yourself with everything.’

Josh smiled and started unpacking the box of spirits.

Essie rounded the bar and Ash swivelled on his bar stool, the creak of leather drawing her attention to him spreading his thighs wider.

Man-spreading?

Staking his claim as the dominant male in the room?

When she looked up from his crotch, he held her gaze, one eyebrow raised in challenge as if he knew the flighty zigzagging of her earlier thoughts and their X-rated bent.

This was impossible. How was she expected to get anything done when he hovered nearby, watching her every move, tying her into sexually frustrated knots with just a quirk of his brow and some male posturing to which her qualifications and knowledge of body language should render her immune?

She turned a sickly sweet smile on Ash. ‘Mr Jacob, do you have any questions for Josh?’

‘No.’ Ash rose to his feet. ‘But I will speak with you in my office when you’re ready.’

After Ash stalked through the staff door, Essie hovered in the bar area straightening chairs to gain a moment’s reprieve from the hormonal maelstrom Ash induced.

With a deep breath she followed him, finding him behind his desk. She left the door open. Her, Ash, enclosed spaces...not happening.

‘What the hell was that?’ she snapped.

He shrugged, rising slowly from the chair and stalking to a halt mere inches in front of her face.

‘What’s the problem? I told you, until I’m certain my shiny new business is in safe hands, I’m all over you.’

Essie’s eyes mentally rolled back with the fantasy his words concocted. Him sweaty. Her writhing. More life-redefining orgasms.

Yes, please.

‘I can’t do my job with you...hovering. And surely you’re too busy...preparing briefs or something?’ Her unfortunate choice of words forced a rage of heat up her neck—he’d looked astounding yesterday, both in and out of his tight-fitting briefs as he’d strutted around his bedroom, a supreme specimen of rugged maleness. Every inch of him lean and ripped—all smooth golden skin with a dusky sprinkling of dark hair as near to black as the silky mop on his head. No inhibitions and no need for any.

And even though he’d only been partially aroused then, as he’d donned his underwear and jeans, the sight of him had still left her mouth pooling with saliva and her clit throbbing. Astounding.

What was wrong with her? She never obsessed over men, physically or emotionally. Well, not since her ex. Essie Newbold, psychologist, would-be relationship expert—at least on paper—was now far too well informed to fall victim to the games played in the name of those relationships. Ash could do all the male posturing he liked—she simply suffered from a bad case of lust. She could control those...urges. Writing about it helped.

‘Actually, I have some instructions for you.’ His grin widened, eyes turning feral.

She practically choked. ‘You...what...?’ Her knees wobbled while she imagined the kind of instructions she’d like to hear coming from his mouth.

Strip. Spread your thighs. Bend over...

Stop.

He lifted that one brow. Mocking. Testing. ‘You do work here.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Good. I want you to go home now and pack an overnight bag. Where do you live?’

Was he for real?

Where the hell was he sending her?

Had he decided to winkle her out from under his nose by stealth? Send her on some fool’s errand and insinuate a replacement in her stead behind her back?

‘I live in New Cross.’ At his blank expression she added, ‘South London. Where am I going?’ Perhaps he’d decided to work her to death so she would quit. Did he expect her to pull an all-nighter? The Yard wasn’t even open yet.

‘You’re coming with me to Paris. Do you have someone who can pack a bag for you? We leave at six.’

Paris?

With him.

No way.

‘I...I have a flatmate. But I’m not going to Paris with you.’ The words had barely escaped her mouth when the throb returned between her legs. Twice as ferocious.

Him.

Her.

Alone in the city of love.

Whoa there. Don’t get carried away—this is real life, not some fluffy shit you made up for your blog. He’s done with you physically and he doesn’t trust you. Oh...and you’ve used his sexual prowess to validate your online relationship advice.

Her face flamed. Why had she done that?

He smiled, the feline kind of smile that told her he saw too much.

‘Worried you won’t be able to control yourself?’ He closed in. His eyes dipped to her mouth.

Huh, right... The air trapped in Essie’s lungs. He was so close, a cloud of heat rose from him, carrying the scent of whatever he’d used in the shower that morning to Essie’s nose.

And then he leaned down so his breath tickled her ear and sent tiny muscular spasms skittering down her exposed neck to reawaken her nipples. ‘Now who’s flattering themselves?’ He reared back, his expression hard, serious, uncompromising. All business.

Bastard.

‘We have work to do. Didn’t Ben mention it?’

She shook her head, her feeble body swaying as the adrenaline dissipated.

‘There’s a club we wanted to check out. The best in France. Perhaps the best in Europe.’

He slung his hands casually into his trouser pockets so the fabric stretched taut across his groin. Essie dragged her eyes away, desperate now to get away from him so she could regroup and fortify her defences with Ash-proof razor wire and hormone repellent spray.

‘I didn’t get where I am today by being second best. The Yard is going to be number one. So we’re going to go see what the competition is up to.’ He tapped the desk with two fingers and then levelled them at her.

‘Call your roommate. My driver will collect your bag in—’ he checked his watch ‘—thirty minutes.’

Essie’s weak body veered from nuclear meltdown to hypothermia. Her mind conjured excuses...no passport...an ingrown toenail...an allergy to France.

How would she survive a trip to Paris with Mr Rigid Control? There would be no way to escape the temptation of him for the hours of travelling time, trapped in a moving vehicle with only his astounding profile, catnip scent and magnetic sex appeal for distraction. Her poor ovaries would shrivel from exhaustion.

She lifted her chin. ‘Will I be paid overtime?’ She might as well make him suffer financially if he wouldn’t be suffering from blue balls, although she doubted her meagre salary would hurt Mr Moneybags too much.

‘Of course.’

‘Separate hotel rooms?’ She might be unable to refuse his reasonable, Ben-sanctioned request, but at least she would be able to escape the lure of lust when the work was over.

His mouth twitched.

‘If you like, but surely that horse has bolted...’ He shrugged.

Arsehole.

And why was he looking at her as if he remembered every detail of her naked? He’d turned away from her last night, put an end to the mad ride she’d have willingly enjoyed until the end. Perhaps despite his control he was still interested. That would certainly explain the way he looked at her. Her breasts throbbed and her clit tingled.

But where did that leave her and her tattered and grubby good intentions? Perhaps she should even the score; take back control of the physical attraction that showed no signs of abating, for either of them; remind him what he’d turned down. She narrowed her eyes. If she had to survive the extreme sexual frustration of being in his company she should definitely play him at his own game.

Her phone, set to send a notification every time someone commented on her blog, vibrated in her pocket, a timely reminder. Aren’t you already playing him? Writing about him? Illegally Hot is a real person.

She swallowed and forced her thoughts back to ways of avoiding a repeat of yesterday’s humiliating rejection. So he’d resisted once. So he wanted to pretend this insane chemistry would disappear. Time to up the ante. Bring out the big guns. Her mind scrabbled through the contents of her underwear drawer for the sexiest lingerie she owned—a treat to herself when she’d graduated with her first-class psychology degree. Some women loved shoes. Essie loved frilly knickers.

At least her roommate, Sarah, would be home cramming for exams today—she’d buy her flatmate something gorgeous from Paris to say thanks. A small smile tugged her mouth. Why should she suffer alone? The least she could do was take him down with her.

‘Fine. And I insist on separate rooms.’ She moved to the door, halting at his sexy drawl.

‘Oh, and, Essie. Don’t forget your passport.’ With a wink that made a strangled gasp catch in her dry throat, he closed the door behind her.

* * *

The car probably cost more than her rented flat in South London—soft leather seats, sleek, shiny bodywork and chauffer driven. It even had a privacy screen. Not that they’d need that. The minute Ash held open the door for her and ushered her inside, he pulled out his phone and began tapping away.

Essie normally enjoyed silence—you could learn a lot about someone by people-watching. Their tells, their habits, their unconscious body language. But all she’d learned about Ash, apart from that the man never looked anything less than seriously fuckable, was that she wanted to know more.

Ben had told her Ash was from New York royalty, his family dating back to a wave of nineteenth-century immigrants. He’d worked for Jacob Holdings, his family-owned real estate business, since leaving college. He’d been to Harvard, and his net worth made her light-headed. But why had he moved to London? Who had broken his heart? And why couldn’t he be less attractive so she wasn’t incapacitated by the urge to jump him?

‘Forgive me.’ He looked up from his phone, his deep voice interrupting her train of thought. ‘The time zones are messing with my schedule. I had some New York deadlines to meet.’ He pocketed the device and gave her his full, panty-melting attention.

Essie shivered, hot then cold, sliding her own phone into her pocket. She almost preferred being ignored.

The device buzzed immediately, halting whatever Ash had been about to say.

‘That goes off a lot. Do you have a bet on? Tracking the stock market?’ Playful glints sparked in his eyes, but she couldn’t enjoy the banter for the slosh of stomach acid burning inside her. Her fans loved Illegally Hot and wanted more of him. She knew the feeling.

If only they could see him, edible in his crisp suit, his hair dishevelled and a scruffy smattering of facial hair reminding her how it felt to be kissed by that beautiful mouth.

‘Something like that.’ She shrugged, her cheeks hot. She should never have started the Illegally Hot posts. She changed the subject before she confessed.

‘So, this club we’re scouting—is there a dress code?’ She only owned one little black dress, one she had asked Sarah to pack into her overnight bag. She’d seen plenty of photos of him with hot dates—gorgeous, sophisticated women: models, actresses, heiresses. Compared to the women he usually associated with, she’d definitely be the country mouse.

Except this wasn’t a date. It didn’t matter what she wore. She should have brought a bin bag, just so her libido stayed in check.

Ash turned and slid his gaze along the length of her body until she squirmed and heat flooded her panties. ‘Whatever you wear will be fine.’ A shrug. ‘I know the owner.’

So it wasn’t a date. That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy tormenting him while she suffered right alongside. Regardless of his impressive willpower, he looked at her as if she might as well be naked. His eyes wanted her even if the rest of him could resist.

‘You can change on board. We’ll be going straight to the club when we land.’

So they were still on the clock? Shame. Now she had him in a chatty mood, she’d like to unearth one or two juicy personal details to fill in the blanks. Like why he’d walked away from his New York life, his family business and what must be an extremely lucrative legal career. And why someone of his social standing, exceptional hotness and phenomenal bedroom skills was still single? No halitosis, in possession of a full head of luxuriant hair, and he wasn’t a pervert.

‘It’s not my area of expertise, but Josh seems competent enough—would you agree?’ He rubbed at his bottom lip, drawing her eyes there.

She’d probably agree to anything for the intense stare he settled on her and what it did to her pulse. How was she going to survive this trip when every nerve in her body vibrated, desperate to have him lose that control he wore like a second skin? Lose it with her.

‘He does. It’s not my area of expertise, either, although I can pull a pint.’ Her cheeks warmed. She’d pulled him, too. In a park. She stuttered on, changing the veer of her thoughts. ‘The DJ called to speak to Ben—know anything about techno house?’

Ash rubbed his jaw as if his scruff irritated him, and Essie’s fingers twitched. That stubble had been amazing scraping across her sensitive nipple last night. How would it feel on her inner thighs?

Oh, no...don’t go there.

Her experiences of oral sex were sadly unfulfilling. Her ex had claimed he didn’t care for it, although he loved it when she returned the favour. She cringed at her younger self. Of course her ex had lacked skills in the foreplay and stamina departments, too—probably why she was struggling to resist the phenomenal Ash. She knew instinctively he would excel at oral sex—she’d kissed him after all, felt his mouth at her breasts... She discreetly blew at the wisps of hair clinging to her heated forehead. Another dangerous temptation to add to the growing list.

He smiled, the genuine, lopsided version that had landed her in this mess in the first place. ‘No, not much. You?’

Essie shook her head. She loved to dance, but her clubbing days were few and far between. Long years of research-laden academic study had put paid to partying and wild nights out. And she hadn’t been interested in the hook-up side of clubbing after she’d had her fingers burned with her ex.

‘Perhaps we can leave that to Ben, on his return.’ He leaned back in the seat and looked out of the window at the passing city, the route to London City Airport taking them parallel to the river. ‘So, tell me about you and Ben. You didn’t grow up together?’ He turned a shrewd stare her way.

Great. So he wanted to make conversation and he’d chosen the one subject that made her skin raw and her scalp prickle. Her relationship with her brother was still so fragile, and brought all her insecurities to the surface like a rash.

Ben and Ash were friends. But Ash had barely heard of her... Was Ben ashamed of the connection with his illegitimate half-sister? Or perhaps she was so low down on his list of priorities... Been there, done that.

She shook her heavy head. ‘We share a father, but I grew up here and, as you know, Ben in New York.’

It shouldn’t matter that Ben hadn’t discussed her with his oldest friend enough for Ash to remember her name. Yes, Ben had been the one to reach out after he’d discovered the truth about Frank Newbold’s other life. But perhaps he now regretted the impulse. Did he consider her a cling-on? An inconvenience? Something else to be managed or swept under the carpet?

Could she really blame Ben for being ashamed to broadcast the existence of a sibling he knew little about, his father’s sordid secret? The shame she’d felt growing up with Frank’s constant absences and see-through excuses rose to the surface, boiling hot. Could she criticise Ben when her own father hadn’t found her lovable enough for him to stick around?

She choked down familiar fears. ‘What about you and Ben? He said you’ve been friends since grade school.’

Ash nodded, glancing away. ‘He’s a good friend.’

Well, that seemed to be the end of that.

‘You don’t give much away, do you?’ The trust issues Ben talked about?

‘Try me.’ He lifted one brow, daring her.

So tempting. But she didn’t want to scare him into brooding silence once more. Something easy. ‘Do you have a sister?’

He nodded. ‘I have two—twins. Younger. Both a pain in my ass.’ He smiled, flashing the grooves around his mouth.

‘What about girlfriends? Anyone pining for you back in New York?’ Her throat grew hot and achy. Why had she asked that?

‘No.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t do girlfriends.’

‘Not ever?’

He shook his head, a slow measured action that gave his stare plenty of time to scrape over her heated face. ‘Not for years.’

So the ex hadn’t just hurt him, she’d ruined him. He really was as closed off as she’d suspected. She took pity on the grey tinge to his handsome face. ‘Human interpersonal relationships are...complex.’ Hers included. All she knew about the opposite sex, beyond the theory she’d got from books and lectures, she’d learned from the behaviour of her selfish, largely absent father and her cruel, manipulative ex. She swallowed down the familiar lump threatening to make her feel two inches tall and changed the subject.

‘Fun fact—did you know that having an older sibling can positively improve your mental health?’

He frowned as if she’d spoken in Russian.

She nodded, warming to her favourite subject. ‘It...it’s been scientifically proven. Ben and I have only connected recently, but...’ She shrugged. She hoped it was true. Hoped what she found with Ben would positively impact both their lives for years to come.

His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he were seeing her for the first time. ‘So Frank Newbold and your mother had an affair?’ His lips formed a grim line, judgment hovering in his stare.

Essie squirmed as the acid in her throat burned its way through her internal organs. She bristled, lashing out instead of curling in on herself. ‘Not exactly. Not every relationship is sordid—sometimes people are duped, lied to, manipulated.’ The excuses kept on coming, as if she’d waited too long to purge. ‘My mother didn’t know about Ben and his mother until after I was born. Frank spun her the usual bullshit about having a rocky marriage and leaving his wife when the time was right...’ Essie herself hadn’t known until her fifteenth birthday. ‘By then I was Daddy’s little girl and Mum couldn’t bear to break my heart with the truth that he’d probably never fully commit to us. I guess she always held out hope that one day we’d be a proper family.’ Her throat burned so badly now she was surprised she could speak at all.

‘So you didn’t know about Ben?’

She sighed and shook her head. ‘I was fifteen when I found out.’ He stayed silent so she continued. ‘My father was overseas, and I was angry that, yet again, he wouldn’t be home for my birthday.’ The burn invaded her eye sockets. Why tell him this? Speaking the words aloud wouldn’t lessen the impact of the events. ‘I stayed awake until the middle of the night, crept downstairs and called him at work. He wasn’t at the office, but I was given another number I assumed was a hotel. A woman, Ben’s mum as it turned out, answered the phone and I said I was his daughter. I’m not sure who was more shocked.’

A disbelieving frown. ‘That’s how you discovered you had a brother?’ Ash stopped just short of allowing his jaw to drop open.

She nodded, her face flaming. Not a pretty story, and one it seemed, despite his friendship with Ben, he’d never heard. She wasn’t surprised. Why would Ben want to advertise such a sordid tale?

Ash’s skin took on a green hue, his mouth now a fully blown grim line. Was he that appalled by her tawdry past? How dared he be so...judgmental?

The question stuck in her throat. She ripped it out, needing confirmation. ‘Ben...never talked about me?’

He sighed. ‘Not much. A mention here and there. But I...was busy...with work stuff at the time.’ He grew pensive and turned to look out of the car window again. ‘Perhaps if I’d known more about you, we might have avoided this...situation.’ He spoke quietly, almost to himself. But the words stung just the same.

So now she was a situation? She wasn’t the only one to blame for where they found themselves. ‘So you usually screen all the women you sleep with, do you?’ That must take up all his spare time, if the reputation Ben hinted at and the pictorial evidence was accurate.

He turned an inscrutable expression on her, but his eyes blazed. ‘No. You didn’t screen me, either, your first one-night stand. Perhaps we should both be a little more selective in future.’

She jutted her chin forward, humiliation making her irrational. ‘What, next time you find an obliging stranger in the park?’ She couldn’t look at him, but she couldn’t look away.

‘Hey, you came on to me—all I did was make the mistake of sitting in a public place.’ He leaned in, hard shards of metal in his stare.

What was wrong with him, making conversation one minute, lashing out the next?

What was wrong with her, digging for answers and then shooting the messenger?

‘Well, all I did was make the mistake of sleeping with some sort of...Jekyll and Hyde character.’ Could his signals be any more mixed? Just like the justifications and excuses currently spinning through her head and making her seasick.

They’d hissed the last few comments to each other, their faces drawing nearer and nearer as they made their respective points. Now, only a couple of centimetres separated them.

His warm breath caressed Essie’s parted lips.

Her pants forced her breasts closer and closer to his chest with each breath.

His bold stare dipped to her mouth.

Her fingers curled into the leather upholstery.

She leaned in...

‘Sir, we’re here,’ said the driver.

Essie flopped back, spent. This couldn’t go on. They’d never survive sharing a workplace sexually sparking off each other like this, and the minute Ben came back from New York, he’d see straight through them and their barely contained animosity. Perhaps Ash would get his way—perhaps Ben would fire her.

Drastic circumstances called for drastic measures.

Damn, what was a girl to do?