by JC Harroway
Lifelong romance addict JC Harroway lives in New Zealand. Writing feeds her very real obsession with happy endings and the endorphin rush they create. You can follow her at jcharroway.com, Facebook.com/jcharroway, Instagram.com/jcharroway and Twitter.com/jcharroway.
If you liked Bound to You, why not try
In the Dark by Jackie Ashenden
Have Me by Anne Marsh
Devoured by Cathryn Fox
Also by JC Harroway
The Pleasure Pact
Bad Business
Bad Reputation
Bad Mistake
Billionaire Bachelors
Forbidden to Want
Forbidden to Taste
Forbidden to Touch
Discover more at Harlequin.com
BOUND TO YOU
JC HARROWAY
To Julia, romance legend, inspirational woman and brainstormer extraordinaire.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Excerpt from In the Dark by Jackie Ashenden
CHAPTER ONE
Monroe
THE ONLY VIEW better than a Tokyo sunset from Hudson Black’s office on the thirty-second floor of Bold Tower is a view of the man himself, with his shirtsleeves rolled up, his tie loosened and a dark shadow forming on his square jaw. My years of experience at ignoring what a fine specimen of virility my business partner is come in extremely handy as I keep my eyes glued to my laptop screen.
‘So we concur, subject to Sterling’s approval,’ I say of the third partner in our global equities company...who’s also my ex-husband. ‘The Tanako investment looks the most promising, although I’m very keen for the interview with Kunosu Tech tomorrow.’
Today was our first face-to-face strategy meeting, with one of the three founders absent, the first time in a long time that Hudson and I have been alone together. This fact isn’t lost on me, if the delicious thrill of illicit anticipation coiling in my belly is any indication. The atmosphere of the entire room is charged, as if I’m aware of him in a whole raft of enthralling new ways I’m required to overlook.
‘I wouldn’t say we concur one hundred per cent, Dove.’
He always addresses me by my last name, something I pretend annoys me, but that I secretly adore. It’s the way his deep, sexy voice caresses the word, combined with the fact that he’s never called me anything else.
It’s his thing. Our thing.
‘Do we ever see completely eye to eye?’ Hudson’s grin is a playful reminder of our usual debates, which can be...heated. That’s what happens when you partner three highly competitive personalities together in one company. Complete agreement becomes a rare luxury we reserve for our seven-figure investments, the kind we’ve discussed today.
Still, I respect the hell out of both my partners. Hudson in particular is obscenely driven, and successful to the point of truly offensive wealth. All thanks to his lowly beginnings, of which he rarely speaks.
‘Our successful partnership is built on our ambitious natures,’ I volley. Today the boardroom banter, and that frisson I experience around him, seems more volatile. Supercharged. Almost like that of strangers who find each other attractive sharing a first smile.
‘Where’s the fun in constant harmony?’ I close my laptop and sit back in the comfortable leather chair at his glass-and-chrome conference table. ‘All three of us are addicted to the friction, I suspect.’
‘I agree. A touch of friction is much better than constant harmony.’ The sexy twitch of his lips sets off an internal shudder in me. Is it my imagination, or is his deep voice laced with flirtation today? His stare lingers for a heartbeat longer than normal.
I laugh, breathless. I’m no longer sure if we’re discussing business but go with it all the same. Harmony is overrated. ‘Spark-inducing’ better describes my relationship with Hudson—both professionally and during our one-time foray into wild, screaming orgasm sex.
Remembering that night from three years ago, I allow my stare properly to traverse his physique. In the six months since I last saw him in the flesh, his lean, toned body seems to have buffed up a little more. Perhaps he’s spending a lot of time working out...
My nipples tingle against my bra at the memories of that single time. How, shortly after my divorce from Sterling had been finalised, Hudson had one night effortlessly pinned me to the wall and made me forget my failure and grief.
I kick off my heels under the table and stretch my legs, which are still protesting the long flight from London, where I head up the UK division of BLD Global Ventures, or Bold, as we affectionately call it. ‘It’s just as well that we’re such good friends. We’ll work out any differences of opinion, as we always do.’
We’ve stayed friends and partners by acting as if our sexy encounter had never happened. I try not to think too hard about our complex little trio, but I suspect we were both conscious of protecting our relationship with Sterling.
My relationship with my ex is convoluted after our amicable divorce. Our marriage was short—both of us realised almost instantly that we’d rushed into it. I was desperately seeking the happy-ever-after my siblings had, and Sterling seemed intent on proving something to his overcritical stepfather. We were equally to blame, so we shelved our disillusionment and hurt. We valued the growing business we’d started after university, and we’d just entered into a lucrative partnership with Hudson. We couldn’t allow the divorce to ruin all that. Now it helps that we live on separate continents.
Hudson pushes his chair away from the table and swivels to face me. ‘Sterling and I can always rely on you to keep us in check.’ He rests his chin in his hand and shoots me a rare look of indulgence. Perhaps he too is enjoying the different dynamic in Sterling’s absence.
Interesting...
‘I’m glad to hear you acknowledge that you can’t spell Bold without D.’ I grin, delight warming my blood. Sparring with Hudson has never felt this sexually charged.
The sound of his throaty chuckle skitters down my spine, setting off a series of delicious shivers. Clearly I’ve sorely neglected my sex life of late. But working with two driven, self-assured men requires constant impetus. Hudson in particular will settle for nothing less than global domination. One of the reasons he’s pushing to expand Bold farther into Europe and Asia.
‘It’s the B in BLD that’s most important.’ He flicks off the screen we’ve used for our meeting, as if he’s won the argument, and then heads to the bar. ‘Drink?’
I nod, relaxing now business is done for the day. ‘Scotch, please.’
He pours generous measures from a crystal decanter into two glasses and grins. On any other man, his arrogance would be repellent. But playful Hudson, a sight rarely seen, could charm a nun out of her knickers. And he more than compensates for his God-given confidence with his wit, his razor-sharp intelligence and his ruthlessly insightful business mind.
Despite that, I can’t allow him to think he’s bested me with the naming order. ‘Keep believing that if you like.’
He quirks an eyebrow, his expression irresistibly roguish
. ‘Everyone knows the first initial takes precedence. That’s why Sterling fought so hard for the spot and got stuck in the middle.’ Sterling’s surname, Lombard, accounts for the L in BLD.
We laugh, more sparks bouncing between us. Spirited exchanges are how we’ve managed our attraction all these years since we first met, when I was engaged to Sterling. Neither of us would risk our highly successful multinational company for something as clichéd as meaningless sex.
I join him at the comfortable seating area, which faces his corner office views of Tokyo. The sky has lost its pink and orange hues of earlier and turned drab shades of grey, which dampen the vista of the Imperial Palace gardens thirty-two floors below and the glow of Tokyo Tower.
‘Well, as your equal partner, I heartily contest that.’ I take the tumbler he offers, my fingers unintentionally brushing his.
Our eyes meet. I watch him over the rim of my glass, excitement fizzing in my veins. I’m taking a gamble by flirting back. Or maybe I started it. I take a sip of the top-shelf liquor, allowing its potency to deliver a delicious thrill.
‘Of course you do,’ he says.
I love that he knows me so well. I’m the youngest of five siblings. The baby. I’m used to fighting battles, wrestling my share of attention and clamouring to be heard over the hubbub. I’ve never allowed coming last in the birth order, or in the company initials, to define or hinder me.
We settle side by side on his sumptuous sofa. I hold his eye contact in challenge, enjoying the playful direction our trivial argument has taken. ‘Don’t you agree that it’s the climax that’s the best part?’
Hudson brings out my competitive side like no one else, perhaps because in business he himself is so cut-throat. So audacious. So relentless. In truth, neither Sterling nor I are as resolute as Hudson, who’s made venture capitalism—risky money-making that makes the world’s top financiers quail—a contact sport. But then neither of us has experienced the uncertainty of Hudson’s early life growing up in the foster system. His drivers are understandable. And his success is an aphrodisiac. Not that he needs to wield one. Not with that sculpted face and virile body that I can confirm he knows how to use.
And tonight, for some reason, I’m struggling to ignore the potent combination.
Tiny flecks of gold shimmer in his irises. ‘In the right situation, I’d have to agree with you about the climax, Dove. I’ll concede this one point.’ He raises his glass. ‘Cheers.’
I smile, awash with happy hormones. ‘To Tokyo—there’s nothing better than a day of good business and good company in one of my favourite cities in the world.’
Well, perhaps one thing... But we can’t go there again. We’re colleagues. Friends.
With his unrestrained smile, Hudson relaxes back into the sofa, his glass resting on his flat stomach. It’s a captivating sight. I’m so used to seeing him in control, being inspiring, authoritative. I watch him with renewed fascination, as if noticing him for the first time. His broad chest strains against the fabric of his shirt, his muscular arm bulging where he rests, one hand behind his head, his long, powerful legs stretched out.
He settles his stare on me, and that sexual heat we seem to be generating fires my endorphins. This is dangerous.
‘It’s a shame Sterling couldn’t make it,’ Hudson says. ‘I had plans to take you both to a new saké bar this week.’ He rubs at the sexy five o’clock shadow on his strong jaw.
I’m momentarily distracted by the disarray of his usually tamed dark hair. My fingers itch as if my hands were once more responsible. But the reminder that Sterling should be here douses the perilous direction of my thoughts. I nod, genuinely sorry that he was detained by his cousin’s funeral. A few times a year the three of us meet face-to-face to reconnect, brainstorm and plan long-term strategies for Bold, rotating Tokyo, London and New York, where Sterling lives.
‘We’ll catch up in London next week instead,’ I say, referring to the impromptu meet-up we’ve brought forward. ‘Besides, I can’t make it tonight.’ I smooth a wrinkle from my skirt, ignoring the irrational sinking feeling in my stomach. ‘I have a date.’
I shouldn’t feel uncomfortable admitting this to him, but I do. It’s as if my body missed the memo that I’m not supposed to find Hudson Black sexy. That I’m supposed to forget that one time and how it ruined me for mediocre sex. That I shouldn’t be flirting with him just because we’re alone. I swallow another sip of Scotch to chase off the errant feelings I don’t wish to analyse.
Hudson’s cognac-brown eyes trace my face thoughtfully. ‘I wasn’t thinking of tonight. I have a date too.’
Misplaced disappointment pricks my skin. Silly, because my head is telling me that Hudson and I have been there, done that. That our pretty fierce attraction—there from the day we met—is contained. But he’s always been my type. Only after Sterling and I divorced did any thoughts that weren’t strictly professional enter my consciousness.
I loved Sterling. I still do; we just didn’t work out.
The night Hudson and I crossed the line three years ago I was feeling lonely and disheartened after the divorce. Sterling had just announced he was leaving the London office, where we all worked at the time, and moving back to New York where he grew up. We’d been a little shell-shocked. Once Sterling left, Hudson and I lingered for a drink. Neither of us took a single sip. But it felt good to get it over with and put our chemistry behind us, although sex that good had been far from a chore.
‘Oh, look at the sky over the bay.’ I change the subject. I don’t want to think about Hudson sleeping with some lucky woman tonight. ‘That looks ominous.’
A large mass of white cirrus clouds obliterates the horizon over Tokyo Bay. The sunset has turned even darker, gloomy and foreboding.
I shiver and curl my feet under me on the sofa.
‘There’s a storm due tonight,’ he says. ‘Typhoon Kano. It’s not predicted to reach land, though.’ He stretches his arm along the back of the sofa, distracting me from the change in the weather with his spicy male scent. ‘What time is your date?’
‘Dinner at eight.’ I agreed to it because I didn’t want to be alone if Hudson had ‘plans,’ and by that I mean some fortunate goddess in his bed. ‘Yours?’
‘Nine.’ He doesn’t elaborate but checks his watch.
A smile twitches my lips. ‘So just a sex date, then.’ I’m provoking him. Hudson doesn’t do relationships.
He shrugs, releasing a sexy smile tinged with boyish charm. A hint of what a heartbreaker he must have been as a teen. ‘You know me.’
Yes, I do. Hudson’s famous commitment avoidance. At thirty-six he’s king of the casual hook-up. Three years ago, I guess that allowed me to take the leap and recklessly sleep with him behind my ex’s back. That and the fact Bold was branching out, with Hudson moving to Tokyo. I knew it was safe. That it would just be one time. That we’d move on, business as usual, no harm done.
He didn’t disappoint me.
‘What about you? Is your date marriage material?’ There’s a hint of hesitation to his question.
I’m vocal about my dreams for the future. Both he and Sterling know I haven’t given up on finding love again. One day I want it all. Like my parents had. Like my older siblings have. Like I naively thought I had with Sterling. I want it for real this time.
No more failures.
I shrug, looking away from his searching stare. ‘It’s a blind date—a friend’s brother who runs his own business, travels a lot and happened to be in Tokyo this week.’ My heart really isn’t in it tonight. The idea of meeting a stranger who, on paper, I have lots in common with, leaves me feeling weirdly hollow.
I finish my drink and stand, emotions swirling through me like the electrical currents brewing outside. ‘I’m just going to use your facilities. Shall we send out for some food? I’m not certain what time zone my body is in, but eight o’clock seems a
long way off.’
‘I’ll organise something. Another drink?’
I nod and he heads to the fully equipped kitchen in the corner of his office. I say ‘office,’ but his working environment—this penthouse—is more of a second home. He spends so much time here. I know from a previous tour that, besides a full-sized bathroom complete with whirlpool bath and double shower, there’s also a king-sized bedroom and a gym behind the various doors.
I make use of the bathroom and wash my hands. I’m not sure I can be bothered to go back to my hotel and change for my date, especially now the weather has turned. A look in the mirror confirms that my gold silk blouse and russet skirt are satisfactory. Reflected me looks good. I carry the self-satisfied aura of a successful professional woman. At thirty, I have plenty of time to find lasting love and marriage and make my own family. When you’re the last born to a big family, everything feels like a competition driven by sibling rivalry. Out of the five of us, I’m the only divorcee. The only one without children.
My biggest regret is that my mother died thinking all of us were happy and settled with life partners. And then, a few months after she passed, my marriage collapsed. I let her down.
I shake off my fit of melancholy. I just wish she were still here... I’ll make her proud one day.
I slide my fingers through my hair, teasing the mass into a sexy tousle, unsure if it’s for my date or for Hudson. But my body knows. My pulse kicks up with the excitement I can’t muster for a man I’ve never met. My cheeks are flushed with arousal and a pulse flutters between my legs. Hudson’s company does that to me. For some reason that I can only attribute to his excellent Scotch, and even better easy-on-the-eye company, I slip open the top button of my blouse, revealing just a hint of lace-bordered cleavage.
It’s just teasing, but I live by the rule of ‘go hard or go home.’
When I return to the office Hudson has produced a platter of tiny bite-sized sushi rolls from somewhere, refreshed our drinks and dimmed the lighting to a more intimate level, which makes the darkening sky and wild weather outside more ominous.
