by Sarah Morgan
Her sudden smile knocked the breath from his body.
‘I know I ought to do it all electronically, and I do once I know what I’m doing, but I just can’t be creative on a screen—I need to draw. I was the same at school. The only way I remembered anything was by drawing spider diagrams and mind maps.’
She hesitated just briefly and then slid her arm through his. Dismissing his driver with a discreet movement of his head, Damon led her away from the crowds hovering at the foot of the iconic tower and across the road to the river. Strains of music and laughter drifted up from the Bateaux mouches as they floated under the bridge and Polly snuggled deeper inside her coat and stared down at the reflection of light on the water.
‘I always wanted to stand on a bridge in Paris in the sun set.’ There was a wistful note in her voice that drew his attention.
‘But with a lover, not your enemy.’
‘This may surprise you, but I don’t dream of lovers, Mr Doukakis.’ There was a brief pause and then she turned her head, the lights from the boat turning her hair to a gleaming shimmer of gold. ‘And I don’t see you as the enemy.’
Awareness throbbed between them and Damon inhaled deeply, feeling as though he were sinking in quicksand.
‘You wanted to walk. Let’s walk.’ He carefully withdrew his arm and instead pushed his hands into the pocket of his coat to prevent himself from touching her. He’d always known that self-discipline began in the mind, but he was fast discovering his mind wasn’t as strong as he’d previously thought. Maybe, he thought, he’d never been truly tested. He’d always avoided commitment of any sort, shying away from still more responsibility. He’d always made a point of keeping his relationships superficial and that was the way he wanted it to stay.
‘You’ve been to Paris before?’
‘No. This is the first time. When we pitched we went to their London offices.’ She strolled next to him, her eyes back on the river. Light flickered on the rippling surface, a kaleidoscope of colour and texture reflected from the illuminated buildings that stretched along the banks of the Seine.
‘It would have saved some misunderstanding had you revealed your level of input into the company right from the first moment. Clearly you were a key member of the team.’
‘If I’d walked into the boardroom yesterday and told you that all the good ideas in the company were mine, would you have believed me?’
Damon breathed deeply. ‘Possibly not. At least not initially. But you could have given me evidence.’
‘I’d put together a presentation. No one would listen.’
‘At the time I was handling the board, but when we were alone in the room afterwards you could have said something.’
‘When, exactly? Before or after you told me to get my lazy self to work?’ There was humour in her tone. ‘I don’t think you were exactly receptive.’
‘Theé mou, stop turning me into the bad guy!’
‘I’m just pointing out that you didn’t exactly start out with a good opinion of me.’ Her shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug. ‘And I suppose I don’t blame you for that. Because of me, your sister was excluded from school. And now she’s run off with my dad. Which isn’t exactly my fault, but I can see why it makes you angry to be near me.’
‘I’m not angry. At least, not with you. I am frustrated that you didn’t just tell me the truth about the company.’
‘At the time I thought you were just going to walk in and close us down to punish my dad.’
‘Despite what you may have heard I would never be that careless with people’s jobs.’ Forced to confront the depth of his own misjudgement, Damon felt a stab of guilt. ‘I admit that my anger towards your father blinded business sense. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I misjudged you, but you must admit that I had reason.’
‘Because I was excluded from school?’
‘Because nothing about Prince Advertising is professional.’
‘Actually, you’re wrong about that. We don’t do things your way, but that isn’t the same as being unprofessional.’
She paused to watch as a boat passed under the bridge, lights twinkling and music playing. On the deck, a couple were locked in a passionate embrace and suddenly Damon wished he hadn’t agreed to a walk.
Everything made him think about that kiss in the hotel suite.
To distract himself, he kept the conversation focused on work.
‘I can see that you have original ideas, but original ideas are no good if they’re not supported by sound business practice. Money was leaking from your company. Do you have any idea how close you were to bankruptcy?’
She was still watching the couple kissing. ‘Yes.’
‘Is that why you all took a pay cut?’
‘The board wanted redundancies. None of us wanted that. We’re a team. We’re happy working together. And we’re good. I’ve known some of these people since I was a child and used to come to the office after school to help. The problems we face aren’t anything to do with lack of talent. You’re a clever man and you’ve looked at the numbers. You know that the money leaking from the company was pouring straight into the pockets of the board.’
‘I understand that. It’s the reason I fired them although at the time I didn’t know just how bad they were. What I don’t understand is why your father allowed it to happen. He should have had tighter control on what was going on.’
Even though it wasn’t cold, she drew the coat more tightly around her. ‘My father has always treated the company more as a hobby than a business. Sometimes he’s interested and sometimes he isn’t.’ Her voice was deceptively light. ‘He didn’t keep a rein on the board and without him there they took more and more liberties. He stopped showing interest in the company altogether about six months ago—about the same time he started seeing your sister. He’s been behaving like a teenager in love ever since. The board wanted cost savings.’
Damon kept his anger on a tight leash. ‘And the obvious solution, apart from slashing their own spending, was redundancy.’
‘My dad set up the company twenty-five years ago and some of the people who worked for him are still there. They’re loyal, lovely people.’ Her gaze flickered briefly to his. ‘And before you say it, yes, I know that business can’t run successfully on loyal, lovely people alone. We all figured that as long as we were still employed it could turn around so we agreed to the pay cut. I suppose we were all hoping for a miracle.’ With a wry smile, she stroked a strand of blonde hair away from her face. ‘And then my father and your sister went missing. And you showed up.’
Damon paused, unused to confiding in anyone but surprised to find that he wanted to. ‘We had a row. Just over two weeks ago. Arianna told me she was in love with someone and that I was going to lose it when she told me who.’ He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, regretting that encounter. ‘She was right. I did lose it.’
‘I can imagine. We were never exactly your favourite family.’
His hand dropped slowly. ‘You were right when you accused me of acting emotionally—I did. But it was like watching a train crash in slow motion—you can see disaster and you want to take charge and stop it happening.’
‘Why do you feel you have to stop things happening?’
‘That night we were told about our parents—I thought she was too young to understand. She wasn’t.’ The cold feeling spread through him and he had an urgent need to shake it off, to outrun it. ‘She crawled onto my lap and sobbed and sobbed. Wouldn’t let go. I have never felt more helpless and inadequate than I did that night. I promised myself I was never going to let her be hurt like that again.’
Polly matched her stride to his as they crossed the bridge and started to walk along the embankment towards the hotel. ‘She was a child then. She’s an adult now.’
‘I’m more parent than brother and I don’t think a parent ever stops feeling responsible.’ It was typical, he thought, that a woman would want to unpeel that statement and look beneath the surface.
He wondered what had possessed him to make such an unguarded comment when normally he kept his feelings tightly locked away. ‘Let’s get back to the hotel.’
‘In other words you don’t want to talk about it. Sorry. Shouldn’t have asked.’ She was light on her feet, sure-footed as she negotiated paving stones and cobbles. ‘So what happens now? You took over the company thinking that you’d be able to influence my father. But my father doesn’t care about the company at the moment. He’s obsessed with your sister.’ Her face was pale in the twinkling evening light and Damon watched her, realising that he’d given virtually no thought to how she felt about it all.
‘It must have been hard for you, seeing him involved with women your age.’
Her tongue moistened her lower lip. ‘School was hard. My father used to drive a soft-top sports car and the blonde in the front was as much of an accessory as the CD-player. If anything is designed to make you a target, it’s having a parent who behaves like that.’
‘Was that why you rebelled?’
She gave a funny crooked smile. ‘I didn’t rebel. I had a problem and I sorted it. It’s what I’ve always done.’
‘You had three boys in your bedroom—the bedroom you shared with my sister. How was that sorting a problem?’
‘It happened ten years ago! I refuse to be continually judged on something I did ten years ago. Get over it.’ She walked surprisingly quickly for someone quite petite and he cursed softly and followed, deciding that she was infinitely more complicated than he’d first thought.
He was getting the sense that he’d misjudged her yet again, and yet her misdemeanour had been witnessed by several members of staff so he knew that this time there was no mistake. What was there to misjudge? At fourteen years old she’d been caught in her underwear in her bedroom with three boys—an offence dealt with by exclusion.
They’d reached the hotel and she smiled at the doorman and greeted him in French.
Amazed that she managed to be chatty even in a foreign language, Damon extracted her from what promised to be a lengthy conversation and urged her forwards. ‘So why is your title executive assistant when clearly you should be on the creative team? It’s not a fair reflection of your responsibilities or your contribution.’
‘Life isn’t always fair, Mr Doukakis.’ She walked into the apartment ahead of him, exchanging a cheerful greeting with his security team who Damon dismissed with a faint movement of his head.
‘I think we should probably drop the formality, don’t you?’
As the door closed behind the last security man she turned her head and something flickered in her eyes.
‘Fine. Let’s drop the formality.’ There was a moment’s hesitation and she drew in a long, slow breath, as if she were plucking up courage. Then, without shifting her gaze from his face, she lifted her chin and slowly, provocatively, undid the buttons of her coat and allowed it to slide to the floor. The jacket of her suit followed and his eyes slid to the thin black straps her camisole. All evening he’d had tantalising glimpses of sexy lace and now he saw that the whole thing was lace, the elaborate pattern exposing a suggestion of creamy skin.
His mouth dried. ‘Theé mou, what are you doing?’
‘I’m dropping the formality. And my clothes, now that you mention it.’ A slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, she walked towards him. ‘What’s the matter, Damon? Worried about that self-control of yours? Worried you won’t be able to walk away from chemistry?’ Her hand locked into the front of his shirt and she pulled him towards her, her thick lashes a tempting veil over eyes that glittered like jewels. Her lips parted and Damon felt his brain shut down.
He ought to push her away right now.
He ought to—
Her fingers locked behind his head and drew his head down and his mouth melded with warm, honeyed temptation. She tasted exquisite, the subtle stroke of her tongue against his bottom lip a hot, erotic fantasy, and he felt lust slam into him with shocking force. Resisting, he lifted his hands to push her away but instead found himself cupping her face, his fingers exploring the softness of her skin and the delicate lines of her jaw. If the kiss they’d shared earlier had been a full-on demonstration of the power of sexual attraction this was softer, more subtle. But it was no less devastating in its effect. Her sweet mouth seduced his with a slow, sure gentleness that ripped away his defences and sent fire tearing through every part of him.
Balancing on the dangerous knife-edge of a new addiction, he felt his power to control his emotions and actions drain at a frightening rate. The part of his brain warning him to stop this madness right now was eclipsed by the part that reached out greedily for the fulfilment of pleasure. A whisper of silk brushed his hand and he removed the clip in her hair and dropped it on the floor, allowing the river of softness to slide over her shoulders. With a husky groan he slid his fingers into that soft sheet of hair and deepened the kiss. The intense flame of sexual chemistry scorched both of them and this time when he gently stroked her face he discovered that his hand was shaking. Devoured by emotions he’d never felt before, he smoothed his palms over her shoulders, feeling nothing but a desperate urge to explore the rest of her. The thin spaghetti straps of her camisole surrendered to the pressure of his fingers and slid away, leaving no barrier between her flesh and his mouth. As he pressed his lips to her throat he heard her gasp, felt the rapid thrum of her pulse under his mouth.
And then she stepped away.
Disorientated, unbalanced by her unexpected withdrawal, it took Damon a moment to absorb the fact that she’d retreated. He stretched out a hand to haul her back but she was already out of reach, those beautiful eyes unreadable as she slowly and deliberately slid the straps of her top back up to her shoulders.
His mind in lockdown, he struggled to speak. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m resisting chemistry. It’s called self-discipline.’ In a husky voice, she threw his words right back at him. ‘You just have to say no. Isn’t that right, Damon? Just because you’re insanely good at kissing, that doesn’t give you the right to make a fool of me. Don’t ever do that again.’ In a single graceful movement she retrieved her clothes and turned to walk towards the second bedroom. ‘Sleep well.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
POLLY leaned over her private section of balcony, sucking in air and trying to lower her blood pressure. Her entire body screamed with frustration, and she didn’t know whether to plunge under a cold shower or pull on her running shoes and pound the streets of Paris.
She dug her hands into her hair but that just reminded her of the moment he’d done the same thing so she folded her arms instead and paced backwards and forwards, breathing deeply.
Of all the stupid things to do.
What on earth had possessed her? She’d been running on adrenaline, on such a high after the success of her meeting with Gérard that she’d virtually danced along the streets of Paris. And, yes, it had felt good to witness the moment Damon had finally realised just what an enormous contribution she made to the company. But that didn’t explain why she’d suddenly performed the equivalent of a pole dance in the middle of his hotel suite.
Wondering how on earth she was going to face him again, she covered her face with her hands. Perhaps it had been seeing all those lovers holding hands and kissing. Paris was a city for lovers. Romance. Or maybe it was just about pride.
All evening she’d been simmering, really angry that he’d made such a fool of her.
Her hands dropped and she swallowed hard.
In walking away from her earlier, he’d proved that he was firmly in control. She’d wanted to hit back—to snap that control.
And she had.
But now she was the one paying the price.
Yes, she’d proved her point and walked away, but her body was on fire and the way she was feeling was driving her crazy. If this was how chemistry felt then no wonder people behaved stupidly.
‘Polly—’
Hearing his rough voi
ce, she whirled round and saw him standing there. His shirt gaped where she’d ripped at his buttons and his eyes were an intense, unfathomable black in a face taut with tension.
‘Get out of here.’ The words stuck to her dry mouth and she licked her lips, trying not to think about the way it felt to kiss him. Her own self-control was non-existent and she hated him for that. ‘We’re even.’
‘Kissing me was your idea of punishment?’
‘You kissed me to prove a point. I was doing the same thing.’ Except that it had backfired. Disturbed by the look in his eyes, she a step backwards, terrified and fascinated in equal measure. ‘You’re the one who started this.’
‘I know. I accept full responsibility—and you’re right to be angry. It was a selfish, careless thing to do—’ he slid his hand into her hair and cupped the back of her head, drawing her towards him ‘—and I apologise.’ His soft words threw her because she hadn’t thought him capable of apology any more than she’d thought him capable of gentleness. And that gentleness was all the more seductive because it came from a man for whom strength and self-assurance was the norm.
The intimacy of the moment wrapped itself around her like a thousand invisible strands drawing them together. It was a connection she didn’t understand and therefore couldn’t fight.
The whole of Paris was spread beneath them like a glittering magic carpet, the air scented by the flowers that tumbled from the pots that turned the terrace into an exotic rooftop garden. As a setting, it couldn’t have been more romantic.
And she didn’t want romantic.
She’d seen what ‘romantic’ did to people and suddenly she was terrified. Why the hell had she kissed him? After that first time she should have known that it was dangerous—stupid. He’d made her feel something she’d never felt and didn’t want to feel.
‘OK, you’ve said sorry and that’s great—fine—now you can leave. Preferably right now because I can’t breathe properly when you’re standing this close.’ She lifted her hand to his chest and encountered hard muscle and a man who clearly wasn’t going to budge. ‘Seriously, Damon, let’s just forget the whole thing and—oh, God—’ The sudden pressure of his mouth on hers silenced the rest of her sentence and she moaned indistinctly as his tongue swept into her mouth, the erotic invasion sending her head into a crazy spin and her senses into freefall. Sexual excitement flashed through her, ignited by the skill of his kiss and the sure strength of his hands on her body.
