by Anna Cleary
He tasted so good, his stern, sensuous mouth demanding her surrender with the same old sexy ruthlessness. Flickers of fire danced along her lips, fanning her hunger to a flame, and her nipples roused to hot aching peaks.
He deepened the kiss and his tongue slid inside her mouth.
Oh, it had been so long. Like a homecoming, the raw animal flavours of the man she’d loved so passionately invaded her senses with a heady rush and made her drunk. Her primal female instincts opened to sheer pleasure, craving to possess every fibre of him.
Hypnotised, in thrall to the irresistible sexual narcotic, she entwined herself around him, desire flaming in her blood like an incendiary. In enthusiastic response he dragged her even closer against his iron-hard frame. Oblivious of where she was, she let her hands rove his powerful shoulders and chest, rediscovering his lean, muscular solidity.
Every part of him felt so satisfying to her touch.
Hungrily she caressed the silky hair in his nape, enjoying the sensation on her fingertips. It was a sensual explosion. Drenched in desire, her breath mingling with his, her yearning nipples and the tender tissues between her thighs burned for his caress.
As if in instinctive understanding he slipped a hand under her shirt and pushed up her bra for an exploration of her breasts. His big warm hand felt so pleasant on her soft skin, so right, while his gentle tease of her nipples added fuel to the flames.
His erection prodded her, heightening her arousal. Her craving for his clever hands to roam in a southerly direction raged in her blood like wildfire.
They slid to her bottom, stroking her with a delicious touch. Urgent for contact where it counted, she made an attempt in the cramped space to hook her leg around his calf.
Obligingly, he pulled her pelvis hard against him and rotated his hips in a primitive rhythm she found wildly stimulating. While his hand squeezed one grateful breast, and his tongue tickled the delicate tissues inside her mouth, she felt his hard penis tantalise the yearning delta between her legs.
The friction was erotic, it held the promise of ecstasy, but with so many clothes in the way it wasn’t nearly enough.
She reached for his belt buckle, but abruptly, and probably just in time, a sharp tattoo on the door roused her from her escalating sensual trance. Surfacing back to painful awareness of her uncomfortable surroundings, she broke from the kiss.
A glimpse of her face in the mirror acted on her hot fraught body like a douse of cold water. Panting, she pushed vigorously at Joe’s chest and slapped at his roving hands.
‘Stop this,’ she hissed. ‘Get out of here. Go on.’
He looked startled. ‘Now?’ he said hoarsely.
A glance into his dark inflamed eyes threatened to send her under again, but she insisted.
‘Go on.’ She squeezed away from the door to make space for it to open. With a last burning look at her, he edged past her and left.
She spent some time splashing her face and tidying up, alone and not regretting it, her thoughts on hold until she could bear to look herself in the face. When she emerged, the main cabin lights were back on, people were moving and shuffling around, and all the signals were there that a meal was about to be served.
Somehow she found her seat and settled back into it, fighting to compose herself and will away the sweet, insidious pleasure still mingling in her bloodstream with all the dissatisfied cravings the clinch had aroused.
Guilt washed through her, and a sobering streak of anxiety. How could she have been so weak, so thoughtless? When she had everything to lose, at the very first test of her resolve she’d fallen. She hadn’t even made it through the flight without surrendering herself to him. She blenched to think of how quickly she’d succumbed.
All through the night she’d been castigating herself for not having properly ascertained what it was he expected from her on this trip. Was this it?
Shame and disappointment chilled her heart. How did he think of her? That she was his ever-ready pushover? That he could still seduce her, make her love him, then break her heart and walk away?
She tried to struggle out of her attack of conscience with a more positive view. If she’d engaged in a sexy interlude in the washroom with him ten years ago, she wouldn’t have ejected him quite so soon. At least now she could congratulate herself for having drawn some sort of line.
It was hard to think clearly all churned up, but she needed to be brutally honest with herself. Had she really expected nothing to happen? Did she really want nothing to happen? She’d loved it when he came to her doorstep to negotiate because it had allowed her to cave in and still preserve her pride.
But while that strict little voice in her head was hauling her naked across the burning coals, there was no denying her old wild reckless part was still there, crazy to plunge straight in with him again. It was a dilemma, and it was wrong. She was wrong.
Although maybe it was right. Why else did it feel so right?
Oh, she was a weak, weak vessel, and she needed to put a definite distance between herself and Joe Sinclair.
She waited, tense as a wire, but he didn’t return for some time. Probably gloating over his easy conquest, she glowered to herself. No doubt knocking back a triumphal Scotch.
When he did come, she had her headphones on and her book open before her. He slipped into his seat silently, with just a sidelong glance at her. She quickly lowered her eyes.
He took his own book from the seat pouch and started to read. It was like a taunt to her, how relaxed he seemed after breaking her condition. His employee, no less. He should have been ashamed.
After a long tense while, in which she hardly took in a word of what she was reading, he put his book aside, reached across and lifted hers out of her hands.
‘Talk to me.’
She lifted an earphone and gazed coldly at him, eyebrows raised. ‘Sorry?’
‘I don’t think you should be regretting that kiss.’
A hot little pulse started up in her head. ‘Don’t you?’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Perhaps what I’m regretting is that you seem to feel you still have the right to kiss me.’
His sleepy, sensual gaze drifted to her mouth. ‘Well…it wasn’t so much that I feel I have the right. Whoever knows he has the right? I think I feel as if I have—the connection.’ He smiled, dropped her book in her lap and leaned back in his chair.
She found her page and stared at it for a while, churning. There was truth in what he claimed, of course, but could she just surrender like a weakling? But she must restrain herself from arguing with him. She knew of old that when he mocked her in that flirty way her resistance to his charm crumbled. In no time she found herself melting, smiling like a loon, and before she knew it flirting like some meowing siren. She should never allow herself to look into his eyes.
But by her honour as a woman, could she truly let him have the last word?
She stared into her book a while longer, then snapped it shut and reached across to snag his sleeve. ‘You were wrong.’
‘Sorry?’
‘The connection is dead.’
His black brows shot up. ‘Really? You mean you were faking it?’ Despite his apparent cool, lounging there in his seat like a relaxed panther, his beard shadow very much in evidence, there was a sly smile in his eyes. It was infuriating. And so damnably attractive.
‘You took me by surprise,’ she accused, annoyed at herself for being so intensely aware of how sexy he looked. How kissable, how mouth-watering his lips were, outlined by the shadow. She could have climbed up on his lap there and then and…
The truth was, he was driving her to lie.
‘I’m a civilised person. Naturally I didn’t want to make a scene. I may have pretended to co-operate but I was only being polite.’
He smiled. ‘Very polite.’
Despite her guilty knowledge of her own disgraceful compliance, her feminine spirit rose up on its hind legs, and with it the certainty she could trust herself to be a virtuous woman from now o
n.
‘Mock if you like,’ she said crushingly, ‘but you can be sure neither that kiss nor anything like it will ever happen again. Let me remind you of my condition.’
He was silent a moment, studying her face, his expression grave apart from a curious little gleam in his eyes. Then he said, ‘And let me remind you of my condition.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re not trying to claim I started that clinch, are you?’
‘Well, you were extremely tempting.’ His voice had a deep, sonorous, velvety texture that crept into her bones and made them weak. ‘Too tempting to resist, all soft and curvy and luscious.’
She couldn’t hold back a hearty laugh, though it came out sounding a little on the silvery side. Not that she wanted to give the impression she was flattered. She wasn’t a bit.
‘Oh, that’s nonsense,’ she scoffed. ‘That’s as ridiculous as if I said I kissed you because you were—’ she cast about for some suitable words ‘—hard and sexy.’
He gave a deep, rumbling laugh. ‘Yeah. At least one of those was so, so true.’ He rubbed his handsome jaw, still laughing, an amused reminiscent gleam in his eye. ‘Anyway, does it really matter who succumbed to who? Once that train has left the station it hardly matters who’s doing the driving, sweetheart.’
Intoxicating vibrations were weakening her, seducing her, threatening to drag her in, but she said as firmly as she could, ‘Be assured, mister, the train hasn’t left the station.’
He nodded, though that lazy smile was still in his eyes. ‘If you say so. Course it hasn’t.’
He relapsed into silence after that, but it was an exciting, connected silence, as if invisible wires were attached to them and primitive messages were pinging back and forth, whispering thrilling promises.
As time wore on, though, and Zurich drew closer on the radar, the transmission signals changed. Joe grew serious and more remote, as if some inner dialogue was keeping him preoccupied.
Was it about her? Was he having second thoughts about bringing her?
CHAPTER SIX
DAWN brought them to Switzerland, with a day and a night to fill before their connecting flight to Nice. As the plane circled in the lea of the Alps Mirandi caught her breath at the beauty of mist-shrouded lakes and rivers and the lushest green valleys she’d ever dreamed.
Zurich spread along the shores of a vast lake and its connecting river, a fairy tale city dotted with spires and mediaeval clock towers, magical in the crisp early morning air.
After the long flight it was a relief to check into the Chateau du Lac and relax with a warm shower and a change of clothes. Stella had arranged for an especially early check-in, and Mirandi sent the excellent woman a telepathic thank-you across the world for her efficiency and taste for the good life.
Joe had a meeting with a banker in the Bahnhofstrasse, a boulevard in the heart of the city’s commercial centre, and Mirandi took some trouble in her preparations, washing her hair and straightening it dry till it hung sleek and silky down her back. It was only right she should try to look her professional best, surely. The last thing any MA/Assistant should do was to disgrace her boss in a high-level business negotiation. She wasn’t trying to make herself especially gorgeous or alluring. If efficiency and grooming happened to appeal to a man… Well, then, let it be. With her conscience perfectly clear, she donned her slimmest navy suit, purple silk cami and heels, walked through a soft air-spray of perfume, then took the lift down to the hotel restaurant.
She found Joe ensconced at a window table overlooking the Zurichsee. A newspaper was spread before him, but he didn’t appear to be reading. Instead he was frowning into space.
He looked so grim and preoccupied her heart lurched with anxiety. Was he thinking about her? Regretting re-opening the door to desire?
‘Hope you weren’t waiting long,’ she said, laying her notebook in its slim leather envelope on the table.
He started from his reverie and glanced up at her. His quick smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and she felt such a relief.
‘Only two newspapers’ worth,’ he said. ‘You must have rushed.’
He looked so handsome, all freshly shaven and shower clean in his fresh suit and crisp cotton shirt, she felt a deep visceral stir in her insides so sweet and intense as to be almost like pain. She noticed him glance at her laptop, then flick an appraising blue gaze over her.
Appreciation warmed his eyes and the glow inside her intensified. Only another frizzy redhead could truly appreciate her beauty exigencies, and she was reminded that Joe could be a remarkably patient man.
‘No, you must have dawdled,’ she retorted, her pulse quickening as his sensual gaze flickered down her legs to her ankles. ‘And two newspapers is bunkum. Your hair’s still damp.’
He laughed, folded his newspaper out of the way and signalled the waiter to bring coffee and hot chocolate.
But the truth was, every little teasing exchange only increased her turmoil. It was of no use to fall in love with him again. She’d been down that road and heartache was the only destination. So, while savouring croissants with him and watching the pleasure craft on the Zurichsee might have been romantic, she couldn’t allow herself to acknowledge her pleasure in his company. The more tempted she felt to surrender to her yearning instincts and plunge right in, the more her conscience and insecurities worked against her.
In twenty-four hours so many moments had revealed nuances of her old lover, still there underneath despite everything, yet she needed to remind herself that her old Joe had grown tired of her.
And she could sense a tension in him. Despite his easy-going banter, his gaze was pensive, those grim little creases around his mouth subtly deeper. He’d closed up about work, and had little to say about his plans for the day. Doubt about her professional abilities?
She frowned. She was looking forward to attending that meeting with him, learning more about MPI’s operations at the highest level. After the debacle of her start with the firm, the opportunity was important to her. If she could demonstrate something of her skills and competence, Joe would see how far she’d grown beyond the raw teenager he’d once known and she could nip his reservations in the bud.
At the appointed time, she strolled along the leafy Bahnhofstrasse with him, taking pleasure in the foreign sights and smells, the trams rattling up and down the centre of the street, not exactly nervous but on her mettle to do well. The bustling city and centre of international commerce seemed remarkably clean and ordered after Sydney’s grimy traffic snarls, its very pavements gleaming.
She couldn’t help feeling a little smug when women they passed in the street cast sidelong glances at Joe’s tall dark form. In his banker’s suit, briefcase in hand, he looked as sleek and prosperous as any of the businessmen hurrying to and fro, though hotter. Far hotter.
‘Here we are,’ he said, halting with a light hand on her elbow.
She gazed up at the discreet façade of one of the richest banks in the world.
‘Good. Now what did you say we’re meeting about?’
Joe scrutinised her. The blue of her suit turned her skin to milky satin and deepened the indigo ring around her irises. In this light they were teal, their golden flecks turned amber, and he remembered with an uncomfortable twinge how clear-seeing they could be. It flashed through his mind that if she was still the girl he thought she was, her smile might not be so eager and positive when she learned what he was negotiating.
‘Well, er…’ He frowned and scratched his ear, evaded her gaze. ‘I’m negotiating with the bank about an investment the firm is considering in Sydney. But, look, there’s no real need for you to come up. Why don’t you do some sight-seeing?’
Mirandi felt an acute stab of disappointment. ‘But—wouldn’t you like me to come with you? Take notes or something?’
He shot her a keen glance, and she read the comprehension in his eyes.
‘I won’t need notes.’ He knew she was hurt, she could sense it, but though his eye
s were rueful his tone remained cool and firm. ‘Why don’t you stay down here and take a look around the shops? As I recall, this street is a women’s shopping paradise. I’ll meet you at that café…’ he pointed across the street at an attractive awning sheltering a mass of tables and chairs, then glanced at his watch ‘…an hour from now.’
She drew breath to protest, but his expression was implacable. She knew that look. There was no use arguing.
Smarting, she watched him stride away. Why hadn’t he wanted her with him? He disappeared into the building and she had nothing left to do but turn and stroll along the street, an alien on the other side of the world. Exciting though it was to be set free in this charming foreign city, she was beginning to feel a bit pointless.
Go shopping, he said. Shopping! What was she, a decoration? Was he as evasive about letting Stella in on his work commitments? Visions rose in her mind’s eye of Stella at work making calls, striding along beside him, greeting his clients, emerging from meetings looking secretive and important, and she decided not. No, he’d never tell Stella to go shopping.
She slipped her laptop into her bag and threaded her way disconsolately among the shoppers, wondering just what her role was.
There was a startling array of designer boutiques around her, some with end-of-summer sale notices posted in their windows. She stared desultorily into a couple, then conceded she might as well take the opportunity to buy something to wear for evening, since her last-minute packing frenzy hadn’t allowed her time to acquire anything special.
After several boutiques she tottered out reeling from the prices. Even the most unassuming shops in this precinct were beyond her humble means. And face it. Shopping required a certain mood an excluded MA couldn’t summon. With a shrug she gave up the idea of a dress and wandered along the street until a captivating glimpse of the river lured her down a side-street to the quay.
Some time later she found the Bahnhofstrasse again and hastened back to the rendezvous, scanning for Joe. Her heart skipped when she saw his tall figure, standing quietly by the café. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, his brows lowered in brooding contemplation. Had the meeting gone badly?
