by Sarah Morgan
His entire body was throbbing with frustration.
Alec laughed. ‘Well, it worked. Suddenly you’re Mr Nice Guy.’ He squinted down at one particular article with interest. ‘I never knew you donated so much money to those children’s charities.’
Zander tensed. ‘Because I don’t donate money as a publicity stunt,’ he said shortly. ‘Revealing it wasn’t my choice but apparently she spoke to someone in Corporate Affairs and they gave her a list of my charitable donations.’
Alec shrugged. ‘Either way, she’s certainly achieved way in excess of our expectations. I’m amazed she agreed to help given the fact that you fired her. How did you talk her into it?’
‘I was—persuasive.’ Zander glanced at the last of the newspapers, his expression neutral and Alec gave a wry smile.
‘In other words you didn’t take no for an answer. So is that it?’
‘Apart from the première this evening.’
Alec looked at him in surprise. ‘You’re going to that?’
Zander gave a ghost of a smile. ‘Of course. And this time I intend to be photographed with a woman. The right woman.’
And he was looking forward to it enormously.
‘You’re taking Lauranne?’ Alec looked shocked. ‘Why? There haven’t been any photos of you in the papers for two weeks. Why do it now? And with her?’
‘I have my reasons.’ And he had absolutely no intention of divulging them to anyone, least of all his lawyer. ‘And now I want you to ring Kouropoulos and set up a meeting.’
Alec fiddled with the papers. ‘He might not agree of course, he could still—’
‘He’ll agree.’
Alec lifted his chin, his expression suddenly keen. ‘But we haven’t—’
‘He’ll agree.’
Alec opened his mouth and then closed it again, suddenly brisk and professional. ‘Right. I’ll speak to his lawyers now.’
‘Good.’ Zander stood up and snapped the file shut. ‘I’m flying to Blue Cove Island tonight after the première.’
Alec gave the wan smile of someone well aware that he was facing a challenge. ‘I’ll tell him that.’ He glanced at his boss, unusually hesitant. ‘You look stressed. You’ve been working punishing hours. Maybe—’
‘I always work punishing hours.’ Zander interrupted him impatiently and Alec gave a slight frown.
‘But I’ve never seen you stressed before.’
Zander lifted an eyebrow, his expression dangerous. ‘Are you my lawyer or my doctor?’
Alec coloured slightly. ‘I just thought maybe all the press attention—’ he risked a slight smile ‘—the strain of being a good boy for two whole weeks…’
Zander gave a reluctant smile, thinking that his lawyer was closer to the truth than he imagined.
Two weeks of being in close contact with Lauranne had left him pulsing with a sexual frustration so powerful that he was in a state of almost permanent discomfort. Whether they’d been in television studios, or meeting journalists for interviews, she’d been hovering in the background, immaculately dressed, her blonde hair fastened firmly on top of her head. He’d found it harder and harder to concentrate on the interviews, his eyes and brain totally preoccupied by the woman on the other side of the lights. Only the constant presence of other people in the room had prevented him from hauling her into his arms and stripping the elegant business suit from her perfect body.
Not accustomed to denying himself sexually, Zander was finding the enforced period of celibacy increasingly frustrating.
Realising that Alec was still looking at him oddly, he swore softly in Greek. ‘I’m fine. Just set up that meeting.’
Supremely confident that there wasn’t a business deal that he couldn’t successfully negotiate if given the opportunity, he strode out of the room leaving his lawyer to sort out the details.
* * *
‘So you turned him into Mr Perfect.’ Tom poured himself a coffee and slumped into a chair opposite her huge glass desk. ‘I can’t believe you agreed to do that work for him. And not only that but you’ve managed to achieve a miracle. You managed to make the bastard look good.’
Lauranne stared blankly at the stack of newspapers on her desk, all featuring Zander Volakis in an unusually flattering light.
In normal circumstances she would have felt immensely proud of the job she’d done portraying him as a warm, caring man but these weren’t normal circumstances. She’d done it to protect Tom.
And to get a divorce.
‘I just wanted to get the job over with,’ she muttered and Tom lifted an eyebrow.
‘So is that it, or is he coming back for more?’
‘Just the première tonight.’
‘He’s taking you?’ Tom narrowed his eyes, instantly on the alert. ‘Excuse me, but you’ve spent the last two weeks removing every speck of dust from his reputation and now he wants to turn up at a public event with his estranged wife? Doesn’t this strike you as odd?’
‘Not really. It’s just business. And after tonight, there’s no more.’ Lauranne licked her lips and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. ‘He wanted quick results and he’s had them. As far as I’m concerned the campaign is finished. He’s done interviews for just about everyone and if they haven’t used the story already then they’ll use it soon.’
‘I couldn’t believe that interview I saw on TV this morning.’ Tom curled his fingers around his coffee mug and shook his head in disbelief. ‘He came across as warm and caring. I found myself wanting to work for the guy, and I know what he’s like. How the hell did you do it?’
‘It’s my job,’ Lauranne said shortly, ‘and I managed to dig up some good stuff.’ She frowned slightly. A surprising amount of good stuff, if she was honest. ‘His employees didn’t have a bad word to say about him.’
‘Then you were obviously speaking to the wrong ones. I was his employee once,’ Tom gritted, ‘and I can certainly think of a bad word. In fact I can think of several bad words. How many would you like?’
Lauranne tried to smile, but her expression was troubled. ‘He gives away a small fortune, Tom, and he doesn’t tell people.’ She chewed her lip. ‘Even his own staff don’t know.’
And almost all of it to children’s charities. She wondered if there was a reason behind that.
‘So?’ Tom shot her an incredulous look. ‘Tell me you’re not going all gooey on me. He’s a billionaire, Lauranne. He can give away millions and not notice. It doesn’t make him a good guy. Wake up.’
Lauranne pulled herself together. ‘I’m awake. I know it doesn’t make him a good guy.’
He was a guy who would resort to blackmail if it suited him.
But she couldn’t push away the image of Zander, an unusually discomforted Zander, being questioned about his charitable donations. He hadn’t wanted to discuss it and instead had skilfully switched the topic of conversation to the needs of the charities that he supported, focusing on the work they were doing rather than the finance that he poured into their coffers. And of course it helped that he was movie-star handsome. The cameras had loved him, the harsh studio lighting only emphasising his perfect bone structure and glossy dark hair as he spoke with an ease and confidence that just increased his appeal.
Remembering just how great that appeal had been, Lauranne reminded herself that it was all part of his act. Zander was the ultimate negotiator, a skilled operator who knew exactly how to manipulate people and situations to his advantage.
Tom took a sip of coffee. ‘What I still don’t understand,’ he said slowly, ‘is why you agreed to do it.’
Lauranne didn’t meet his eyes. She still hadn’t told him the truth. Hadn’t told him about Zander’s threat to put them out of business.
Tom was her best friend and she owed him.
‘It just seemed easier than refusing,’ she said finally, dredging up a smile with an effort. ‘And after tonight it will be finished.’
She still had to get through one more evening but a
t least they’d be in public again. Crowds were her protection.
‘Is it?’ Tom stared at her broodingly. ‘I have a feeling that this thing with you and Zander will never be finished. Not while the pair of you are living on the same planet and breathing the same air.’
‘There is no thing between us.’ Lauranne stood up abruptly and glanced at her watch. ‘I’m going home. I have to get changed before tonight. He’s picking me up at seven.’
‘Good luck.’ Tom gave a weary smile. ‘Don’t forget to smile for the cameras when your feet hit that red carpet. And get ready for trouble. When word gets out that you’re his wife, there’ll be a feeding frenzy.’
‘Word isn’t going to get out,’ Lauranne said, picking up her bag. ‘Why would anyone be interested in me?’
‘Because you’re with him,’ Tom said dryly. ‘Be on your guard. Volakis never does anything without a reason. If he’s taking you tonight, then there’s a reason.’
‘He needs a partner,’ Lauranne said, wishing that she could push away the uneasy suspicion that Tom might be right.
Was Zander playing some elaborate game?
Tom stood up, his expression grim. ‘Did he kiss you again?’
Lauranne shook her head.
He hadn’t needed to.
Just being in the same room as him had such an intense effect on her physically that she couldn’t concentrate on anything except him. They hadn’t been able to take their eyes off each other, the sexual awareness between them rising to such an intensity that she was amazed that the journalists hadn’t picked up on it. Tension had throbbed around them like a force field, isolating them from everyone else.
‘Of course he didn’t kiss me.’ Lauranne walked towards the door, wondering if a cold shower would help. ‘Fortunately we were surrounded by cameramen and journalists and every living, breathing female within a million miles of London who could find an excuse to be there.’ She hadn’t been on her own with him for a single second and she was grateful for that. She didn’t trust him. And she certainly didn’t trust herself. She’d come to the conclusion that her body had lousy judgement. ‘And after tonight I won’t be seeing him again.’
And for that she was eternally thankful.
Maybe, just maybe, if she concentrated hard enough, she’d be able to get him out of her mind and get on with her life.
There had to be men out there who wouldn’t pale next to Zander—
Tom glanced out of the window. ‘The sky is looking pretty dark. Do you need a lift home?’
Lauranne shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I need the fresh air. I’ll walk part of the way and then grab a cab if it rains. See you tomorrow.’
She walked out of her office and took the lift down to the ground floor.
The moment she stepped out onto the pavement she saw the car. Sleek, dark and complete with uniformed driver. Zander lounged against the rear passenger door, waiting for her, his security staff hovering at a discreet distance.
Zander the hunter.
‘Get in.’ Thick dark lashes framing his disturbingly intent gaze, he straightened and extended a lean brown hand towards the car in invitation. ‘I’ll give you a lift home. It will give you more time to get ready for tonight.’
It was the first time she’d been alone with him since they’d started the campaign and during that time the tension between them had risen to fever pitch. Being in a car alone with him was the last thing she wanted. It was as if she’d been admiring a tiger safely in captivity only to find that it had escaped and was now confronting her.
Her mouth was dry and her heart was pounding against her chest. What was it they said about dangerous situations? Fight or flight. Well, flight was a waste of time where Zander was concerned because he always caught up with her. Which just left fight.
Angling her chin, she looked at him with ill-disguised hostility. ‘I’m walking home. I need the fresh air.’
There was no way she was climbing into a car with him.
‘Then I’ll walk with you.’ With a discreet jerk of his dark head he dismissed his bodyguards and chauffeur and strolled alongside her, ignoring the furious look she cast in his direction.
‘I prefer to walk alone.’
As usual he ignored her, adjusting his pace to match hers. ‘Surely it’s usual for a client to have a debrief after such an intensive campaign?’
It was usual, but she didn’t want to spend any more time with Zander than she had to. She needed to spend some time on her own, reminding herself of all the reasons why she should be avoiding him. Two weeks in his company had seriously affected her judgement.
‘But you’re not really a client,’ she said. ‘You’re just a man who resorts to blackmail.’
He smiled, not in the least disturbed by her less-than-flattering analysis of his character. ‘So I am.’
She quickened her pace, forcing herself to look straight ahead. To glance sideways was to court temptation and she didn’t trust herself. Even without looking she was painfully conscious of every male inch of him as he strolled next to her. Her feminine senses in a state of high alert, she almost jumped as she felt the tantalising brush of his arm against hers.
Suddenly it was too much. Her whole body was on fire with anticipation.
‘I have nothing to say to you, Zander.’ She sounded breathless, as if she’d been running for her life, and if she had any sense then that was exactly what she should be doing, she reflected helplessly. She had to get away from him if she was going to preserve her sanity. Her job. Her life. ‘I did as you asked and after tonight I want you to leave me alone. I don’t want to see you again. And I’ll be instructing my lawyer.’
As she finished speaking she felt the first drops of rain on her head and her shoulders and then suddenly the rain started to fall heavily, hammering the pavement and drenching unprepared commuters.
Squinting through damp lashes, Lauranne frantically scanned the traffic-clogged streets for a taxi but as usual there was no sign of one and in seconds they were soaked.
Swearing in Greek, Zander lifted a hand in an imperious gesture and moments later the sleek dark car pulled up alongside the kerb and he was driving her forwards, the warmth of his hand branding the small of her back.
For a moment Lauranne dug her heels in, resisting both that pressure and his arrogant assumption that she’d go where he led. She preferred to take her chances with the weather than climb into the intimate confines of a car with a man as lethally attractive as Zander.
He stared at her with naked exasperation, raindrops clinging to seductively thick lashes as he ran fingers through his dripping hair with the incredulity of someone accustomed to living in a hot climate. ‘Theos mou, this is not the time to argue. If you must argue then at least do it somewhere dry. Get in before we both drown.’
Driven by the sheer force of his personality, Lauranne slid reluctantly into the vehicle and was immediately swallowed up by the warmth and comfort of his car.
Zander delivered several instructions in rapid Greek and then stretched out a lean brown hand and hit a button somewhere to his right, activating a screen between him and his driver.
And only then was she aware that her thin silk blouse was now transparent, the delicate lace of her bra clearly visible through the soaked fabric.
Her face hot with embarrassment, Lauranne huddled in the far corner of the seat, trying to put as much distance between her and Zander as possible. Being alone with him in the confines of a car made her struggle for breath.
There was a long, burning silence and when he finally spoke his voice was deep and very, very male.
‘Only English rain can drown you in seconds,’ he drawled, reaching under one of the seats and pulling out a drawer that contained several towels. ‘Come here.’
She put up a feeble resistance but he ignored her, removing the clip that held her hair in place at the back of her head and rubbing her soaked hair with firm, determined strokes. Exactly when his movements changed she wasn’t s
ure but she gradually became aware that the rhythm and pressure had altered subtly from practical to seductive.
She sat still, hypnotised by the steady pounding of rain on the roof of the car and the touch of his hands. Gradually the sound of the rain faded into the background, eclipsed by the pounding of her heart and the snatch of her breath. They were totally alone, the plush interior of the car creating an atmosphere of intimacy that suffocated her resolve. Drawn in by the sizzling awareness that burned between them, Lauranne was suddenly controlled by her senses. She felt the slide of smooth leather under her bare thigh, heard the harshness of his breathing and saw the dampness of his shirt clinging to his powerful body.
So it wasn’t just her clothes that were now see-through, she reflected dizzily, her mouth drying as she found herself eye-level with his broad chest.
Through his rain-soaked shirt she could see the shadow of dark body hair, a tantalising reminder of the masculine perfection of his body, which had once been so achingly familiar—
He dropped the towel on the floor and smoothed her tangled hair away from her face, the pad of his thumb caressing her flushed cheeks. She lifted her gaze to his and dark eyes locked onto hers with a simmering intensity that made her breath catch. And still his thumb caressed her cheek in a movement so seductive that her lips parted in mute invitation.
They stared at each other for endless seconds and then his gaze shifted, raking the soft swell of her breasts, clearly visible through the damp material.
Like someone in shock, Lauranne sat immobile, unable to persuade her body to do any of the things her brain was suggesting.
Run.
Slap him.
Kiss him.
They both knew it was coming, of course. It had been coming since the day he strode back into her life two weeks earlier and her entire body ached for the satisfaction that only he could give her. So much so that when he muttered a raw imprecation and brought his mouth down hard on hers, she sobbed with relief and leaned into him, desperate for him to kiss her as only he knew how.
She curled her fingers into the damp fabric of his shirt, shivering as she felt the hard, masculine flesh beneath. He framed her face with his hands, holding her captive as he kissed her with a forceful hunger that sent shock waves of liquid excitement coursing through her body. Her head slammed back against the seat under the pressure of his and she felt his hand slide up and touch the bare skin of her inner thigh.
