Arabella Sheen
BLINDED BY DESIRE
A modern romantic novel
About The Book
Blinded by Desire
Jason Andre is a very successful billionaire architect who thinks he can get what he wants, when he wants.
Beth Ashton is a feisty red head with an up-and-coming career as a landscape designer . . . and she wants nothing to do with Jason.
From the outset sparks fly between them.
She excites him and he infuriates her.
When Jason’s light air craft crashes and he temporarily loses his sight, Beth reluctantly steps in and does exactly what she promised she wouldn’t do . . . she goes and works for him.
Beth has stipulated it’s to be a working relationship only, but after spending a tempestuous hot-steamy night in his bed, their relationship develops into something more . . .
Then Jason’s sight returns and so does the scheming ex-girlfriend . . . Trudy.
Disclaimer, Copyrights and Publishing
Any names or characters have no existence outside the imagination of the author or are used fictitiously and actual events are purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, copied, stored in a retrieval system known or hereinafter invented, without written permission of the publisher.
Copyright © 2012 by - Sheena Price
Digital editions copyright © 2012 by - Sheena Price
Published by - Sheena Price
This edition is published by arrangement with Amazon Kindle eBooks.
CONTENT
Title page
About the Book
Disclaimer, Copyrights and Publishing
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter One
The ring tone of the mobile stopped her in her tracks and although she was reluctant to answer the call, Beth flicked the phone open.
Caller ID had been blocked.
Today had been one of those days.
Nothing seemed to be going her way and everything seemed to be conspiring to delay her from leaving on time for Devon.
Tossing back her long auburn hair and putting the mobile to her ear, she was determined to keep the conversation as short as possible.
By now she really ought to be on the motorway beating the queues of holiday makers heading south. It was bank holiday week-end and if she left now she’d just be on-time to miss the heavy traffic.
“Hello, Beth Ashton here,” she answered.
She hoped her voice sounded business like because she was feeling anything but cheerful.
“Ashton?” a male voice asked impatiently.
“Ah-ha, yes.”
“What kept you? I wondered if I’d been given the right number.”
“And you’re lucky I’m answering at all,” she nearly barked back.
“What can I do for you?”
He was lucky she was prepared to listen to him.
She really didn’t have the time to talk to arrogant bad-mannered strangers with no phone manners.
Whoever the he was, he seemed in a foul temper.
He was obviously foreign and the accent sounded Mediterranean – but she could be wrong.
His English was fluent, almost faultless and the deep husky voice on the other end of the line sounded cool, cold and sexy.
Very male, very sensual . . . and very rude.
Beth was in a hurry to get away, so she pulled the door of the lodge house shut behind her and carrying her luggage in one hand and awkwardly juggling the mobile in the other, she headed towards her waiting Land Rover.
The deep voice on the mobile bellowed and barked at her again.
“I’d like to speak with your husband. It’s about work. If he could contact me . . . that would be great.”
Sarcasm and boredom was dripping from the man’s voice.
Her first impressions were right and she hadn’t been mistaken.
Whoever he was, he was definitely overbearing, obnoxious and insufferable.
She could imagine him glancing at his watch counting the seconds for her to put her non-existent husband on the phone.
It was this man who was wasting her time, not the other way round.
Beth didn’t have a husband and he wasn’t to know that, but she detested arrogant and assuming people at the best of times. Especially men.
There was an uncomfortable moment of silence on the phone. Each of them was waiting for the other to speak.
“Your husband,” he demanded, “This is his number, isn’t it?”
There was no way she was going to be spoken to in this manner.
“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong number Mr . . .” she stopped and waited for him to give his name.
He didn’t.
“I’d like to speak with Ashton . . . the gardener,” he said, “I’ve recently been shown some work he’s done for Clifton Hall and I’d like him to do some landscaping for me in Greece. He’s come highly recommended.”
Beth’s last name was Ashton and she happened to be a landscape gardener but she wasn’t a . . . man and she still wasn’t sure who the caller was.
“Well?” he was waiting for a response.
“Look,” she said as calmly as she could, “I’m sorry you’ve had a bad day and you’re in a foul mood Mr . . .”
“Andre, I’m Jason Andre.”
The name sounded familiar but she couldn’t place it.
“Mr Andre . . . but I’m not here to be shouted at,” she told him politely, “And again, I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong number because I don’t know who you are.”
She heard him take a deep breath of irritation followed by a long sigh of frustration.
It was almost as if he’d had enough of the conversation but was willing to reason with her like he’d reason with a child to get what he wanted.
“No you’re quite right,” he said patronizingly, “You don’t know me and we haven’t met . . . yet.”
There was annoyance in his voice and she wondered what she’d done to cause such a reaction.
She hadn’t met the man and already she disliked him.
“I believe you know Sophie, my sister and her husband Charles. They’re the Fitzgerald of Clifton Hall.”
Damn the man.
Yes of course she knew Sophie.
Now she would have to be polite.
Beth was staying as a guest with Sophie and Charles in their lodge house whist she finished landscaping the estates gardens.
Hearing Sophie’s name dispelled some of her worries.
Jason Andre couldn’t be a total lunatic. Not if he was related to Sophie. He couldn’t be all that bad . . . could he?
Perhaps her first impressions of him might just be wrong and he wasn’t the bad-tempered, bad-mannered individual she thought him to be.
Putting two and two together she realised where she’d heard Jason’s accent before.
It was Greek. The same as Sophie’s.
“Yes I know Sophie,” she told him and she waited wondering what was coming next.
“Thank goodness we’ve got that sorted and I’m not talking to the wrong person. Which is it to be then?” he asked, “Does he prefer to look at plans using the Adobe Reader or does he want the blue print drawings?”
“I’m sorry Mr Andre,” was all she could say, “It’s been a long day and I must be stupid or something, because I still don’t know who you are or what you’re asking.”
Slowly and we
arily she ran a hand through her long dark hair.
Looking at her wrist-watch she was reminded she ought to be on the motorway battling with heavy traffic and heading for home.
Instead she was here, outside the lodge house, wasting time on her mobile.
“We seem to have our wires crossed Mr Andre.”
“And it seems I’m wasting my time talking to you . . . Mrs Ashton.”
There was a dry disdainful tone in his voice.
“Bye-bye . . .” she said as politely as she could.
“No, wait. Let’s try again and see if I can explain,” he said quickly, “Sophie knows I want a gardener and she’s recommended Ashton Landscaping. She gave me your husband’s number. I’m at the Hall this weekend and I thought we could get together and look over the plans.”
Beth was beginning to understand the situation and she realised Jason Andre thought Ashton Landscaping was run by a man – her husband.
She didn’t have a husband.
Beth felt her blood beginning to boil. She was fuming.
Why did all men assume garden landscapers had to be men?
If she thought Jason Andre was rude and arrogant before, she now knew he was all of those things and . . . sexist.
If he wanted someone to work for him and check his garden designs for flaws . . . it wasn’t going to be her.
She wasn’t doing it.
As much as she liked the sound of his deep sexy accent, she didn’t fancy working for someone who was a chauvinist.
“I’m sorry,” she said determined to end the conversation as quickly as possible, “I’m afraid Ashton Landscapers are not taking on extra work at the moment. The Fitzgerald project hasn’t been completed and we’ve other clients on our waiting list. Perhaps you could try another firm.”
Beth was practically gagging at how politely she was speaking to the man.
She was being unusually diplomatic and she hoped Jason Andre was getting the message.
She wasn’t interested in the work he was offering her and she wasn’t interested in him.
But it was as if the man was deaf.
He hadn’t heard anything she’d been saying. He hadn’t been listening.
“I think it’ll be easier if I got Sophie to phone you,” he told her, “Sophie can explain how things are and I’ll ask her to set up a meeting for this evening.”
Before Beth could tell him she wasn’t available this evening he abruptly cut her off. She was left holding the mobile and the buzz of the disconnected call was ringing in her ear.
He had ended the call without even saying good-bye or thank-you.
Shaking her head in disbelief, she wondered if all Greek men were as arrogant, obnoxious and as rude as the insufferable Mr Andre.
“One thing’s for sure Mr Andre . . . you won’t be seeing me this evening,” and she threw the mobile back into her bag and loaded her luggage into the waiting Land Rover.
She was on the point of turning the key in the ignition when her phone started ringing again.
“Dammit,” she muttered beneath her breath, “Am I never going to get out this place?”
Reaching once again for the mobile, she looked at the caller ID and answered.
It was Sophie Fitzgerald who was calling.
“Beth darling, it’s me . . . Sophie.”
They had spoken earlier that morning and had finalised all the details concerning the Hall gardens, so Beth knew Sophie couldn’t be calling to talk business.
But she was wrong.
Sophie did want to talk gardening. Only it wasn’t Clifton Hall gardens Sophie was worried about. They were the gardens Jason Andre’s wanted designed, and they were in Greece.
“Jason’s said he’s been in touch with you about his project. He seems to think there’s been some sort of a mix-up between the two of you, and he’d like to get together tonight and talk things over.”
That was exactly what she didn’t want to do.
She wanted nothing to do with the man.
Beth felt herself beginning to dig her heels in.
She didn’t like others to make decisions for her at the best of times and Sophie seemed intent on arranging a meeting with Jason.
She didn’t want to meet him and she would be happy if they never met.
“Jason’s coming to stay for weekend,” Sophie said, “He’s on his way and he’s driving here now. I thought it would be a good chance for the two of you to finally get together. Come over to the house. Charles and I would really like it if you came to dinner . . . tonight.”
The more someone wanted Beth to do something she didn’t want to do the more she rebelled.
And something seemed fishy about this dinner date.
Once before, Sophie had tried to get Beth on a dinner date with one of Charles’s friends, and it had been a disaster.
Now Sophie was arranging a dinner with Jason, and having just spoken to the man, Beth couldn’t imagine anyone she’d rather not have dinner with.
“It’s kind of you to ask me Sophie, and at any other time I’m sure I’d be delighted to meet your brother . . . but right now I’m on my way to Devon.” And to demonstrate the fact she was heading for home, she honked the car horn on the Land Rover.
But Sophie was persistent and determined.
“Jason’s an architect with Andre & Marsh. I thought his firm might be able to use your landscaping services. Beth . . . I’ve more or less promised him you’d look over his garden designs. You see, Jason wants someone to plan his gardens in Greece and I’ve recommended you.”
Beth now knew why the name of Jason Andre sounded familiar.
She’d only just put two and two together.
Mr Jason Andre was the Jason Andre of Andre & March Architects.
Everyone in the building development trade knew the name of Andre & Marsh.
It was a multibillion pound organisation with an annual turnover beyond her dreams.
Andre & Marsh employed thousands and subcontracted all over the world.
There was no comparison to be made to her business.
Ashton Landscaping and Andre & Marsh were simply in different leagues.
Jason was out of her business and social orbit.
He was constantly seen pictured on the front cover of some newspaper or tabloid magazine. And always there was a glamorous woman on his arm.
His reputation was that of a ruthless man . . . both in and out of bed. He was a sexy billionaire who handled his business and personal love affairs mercilessly.
In business there was none better than Jason Andre.
His reputation was excellent.
Not only was he known to be one of the best architects in the country, he was also known to be one of the wealthiest jet-setting womaniser and play-boy’s in Europe.
Jason worked hard and played hard.
He discarded women like a man with a cold would discard used tissues from a box of Kleenex.
A relationship with him would get you nowhere.
No . . . Mr Andre was certainly very much out of her league and very much . . . not her type.
Beth knew from what she’d read that if Jason Andre wanted something he always got it . . . but he wasn’t getting her.
“It’s nice of you to consider me for Jason’s project in Greece and normally I’d love to stay and meet your brother, but as I’ve told you, I’m travelling to Devon this evening and I’ll be away for the weekend.”
“Somehow you’ve missed each other whenever Jason’s been here,” Sophie explained, “And it would be nice if you two could finally meet.”
“I’m sure it would normally be a pleasure to meet him, but . . .” Beth diplomatically left unsaid what she’d really wanted to say.
In reality she didn’t know how she kept the irony out of her voice.
Having just spoken to the arrogant Mr Andre on the phone, she doubted meeting him in person would be any sort of pleasure.
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