Extreme Provocation

by Sarah Holland

  ‘Yes, but you’re very sheltered, Lucy. Not the kind of young woman who should be going into casinos late at night on her own.’ Edward frowned with concern. ‘You’ve spent your adult life working with children, for God’s sake.’

  She smiled. ‘And looking after you and my father.’

  ‘Well, all right,’ he grinned, touching her face affectionately with one slim hand. ‘Looking after me and your father.’

  ‘And that is, after all, what I plan to do for the rest of my life,’ she pointed out with a teasing smile.

  ‘Yes,’ he said softly, ‘but don’t go into that damned casino again. It just isn’t suitable, my darling, and I won’t allow it.’ He bent his head to kiss her. The warmth of his mouth was sweet, familiar, and she smiled as she received his kiss, her body relaxed as he held her waist tenderly.

  Suddenly she remembered the pulsing excitement of that man’s kiss last night and her heartbeat started to race dangerously. Eyes darkening, she moved abruptly away, ending the kiss.

  ‘If only we were married,’ she said suddenly, a hand at her temple. ‘Darling, can’t it be soon?’

  ‘It’s so difficult, Lucy,’ he said with deep regret. ‘To even think of marrying yet could be disastrous.’

  ‘But if we were married, you could live here instead of at that poky little flat,’ she protested, ‘and do something about Daddy. I sometimes feel as though I’m drowning in all this worry—’

  Edward groaned, pulling her back into his arms. ‘You shouldn’t have to worry about things like bankruptcy and ruin,’ he smiled teasingly at her. ‘All you should worry about is darning my socks and cooking dinner for me and your father.’

  Lucy clung to him, arms wound round his neck. ‘It’s all I want to do, Edward. Just to look after you and my father forever—’

  ‘Then get on with the dinner,’ he teased, kissing her, and then released her, opening the kitchen door. ‘I’ll be in the drawing-room with your father.’

  As she prepared the dinner she listened to her favourite piece of jazz, the piano a smoky lilt against the lazy drawl of the singer. If only life could be this simple, she thought, green eyes clouding. Just relaxing, with no financial worries.

  Sighing, she remembered how safe and secure her childhood had been. Sir Charles had been alive then, and his had been the strong hand that guided her life. If only she could return to that haven...but her father was at the wheel now, and guiding their ship on to the rocks.

  The whole house felt under constant threat. She had no idea about raising money. What on earth did one do? Sell furniture? The paintings and jewellery that had not been sold so far would raise some money, but not enough. She only earned a small amount from the kindergarten. Enough to buy household necessities and food. But nowhere near enough to pay off a mortgage or even debts.

  On Saturday morning she went shopping as usual, while her father slept off his hangover. It was a lovely day, the sun high in a clear blue sky.

  As she walked towards the shopping precinct, a long white sports car slid around the corner and purred to a standstill just in front of her. The door opened and a very tall man stepped out of it, impeccably dressed, turning to face her with a cool smile.

  Lucy gasped as she saw the blue eyes and the scar.

  ‘Serendipity,’ Randal drawled. ‘I was just on my way to see you. I came to return this.’ He handed her the white silk shawl. ‘You left it in my office the other night.’

  Flushing angrily, she snatched the shawl from him. ‘Thank you,’ she said tightly, and tried to move past him.

  He blocked her path. ‘I thought you might come back for it in person.’

  ‘Why on earth should you think that?’ Lucy’s green eyes sparkled with anger. ‘After your behaviour, the only reason I would have considered returning would have been to slap your face.’

  ‘I take it the idea didn’t prove irresistible?’

  ‘No,’ she said tightly, ‘but it will if you don’t get out of my way!’

  He laughed, blue eyes moving over her with blatant insolence. ‘You are passionate, aren’t you? I’ve never met such a spitfire. How quickly that cool little face turns to fury.’

  ‘I scratch, too.’ she said, loathing him intensely. ‘Remember?’

  ‘How could I forget?’ He turned his dark head, the scratch a faint red line along his tough jaw. ‘Every time I look in the mirror, I think of you and your angry little face. I’d like to make you that angry again, Miss Winslow. In fact, I’d like to make you angrier still...’

  Staring, she felt her pulses throbbing with sudden wild arousal, and her gaze seemed riveted to his hard mouth as she remembered that kiss and the violence of the response he had aroused in her.

  ‘Have dinner with me tonight,’ he said softly, watching her.

  ‘No!’ she snapped.

  ‘Tomorrow night?’

  ‘Never,’ she said fiercely, and stormed past him.

  He fell into step beside her, hands thrust in the pockets of his obviously expensive grey suit.

  ‘You’re annoying me,’ Lucy said, refusing to look at him.

  ‘Good,’ he murmured. ‘I enjoy seeing you lose your cool.’

  ‘I could call a policeman, you know,’ she said, quickening her step.

  ‘He wouldn’t have the same effect.’

  Her mouth tightened. They were walking briskly on to the cobbles of the precinct. Shoppers streamed all around them. She was very aware of Randal’s hard masculinity, that lazy, mocking smile and the black windblown hair. Several women shot him interested glances.

  ‘Will you please stop following me?’ Lucy said tightly.

  ‘You’d be disappointed if I did,’ he drawled.

  ‘Let’s put that to the test,’ she said flatly, glaring at him through her lashes. ‘Walk away in any direction, and see how long it takes for me to start wailing with disappointment.’

  He laughed, then his eyes narrowed shrewdly and he drawled, ‘You came to the casino to try and stop your father gambling, didn’t you?’

  The sudden change of conversation threw her. Shock flared in her green eyes. She didn’t reply, but her step faltered, she bent her head and felt her face run with hot colour.

  ‘He was in the casino every night this week,’ Randal said lightly, watching her bent head with calculation.

  ‘He enjoys gambling,’ she said coolly, lifting her head to signify her indifference, which of course she did not truly feel. But she didn’t want him to know how worried she was by her father’s drinking and gambling.

  ‘But you don’t?’

  She shrugged lightly. ‘It’s hardly my sort of thing.’

  ‘A pity,’ he drawled mockingly. ‘I hoped you’d turn up again. Don’t tell me I frightened you off forever?’

  ‘You’d frighten anybody,’ she said, throwing him a haughty look.

  ‘Would I, now?’ he murmured, watching her with a wicked smile.

  Her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t like the way he’d said that. Desperate to get rid of him, she turned, then walked quickly into a department store. Randal followed her. Scent assailed them from the brightly lit counters.

  ‘Shopping for make-up?’ he drawled beside her. ‘You don’t need it. You have a beautiful face and perfect skin.’

  ‘How poetic,’ she said sarcastically.

  ‘When I first saw you, I noticed you weren’t wearing make-up. It seemed incongruous in the casino. But you don’t need it with those eyes, do you? They’re like green fire—’

  ‘I do wish you’d go away,’ she snapped.

  ‘I can’t help myself,’ he drawled, smiling sardonically. ‘You fascinate me.’

  ‘Well, you don’t have the same effect on me.’ She stopped by a perfume counter, turning to glare at him. ‘Or hasn’t that occurred to you?’

  He looked down at her, unsmiling. ‘Oh, yes. But it doesn’t deter me.’

  ‘Perhaps a kick in the shins would work better?’

  ‘You really are a t
empestuous little creature, aren’t you?’ he murmured. ‘It’s funny. I’ve always had two types of women. Can never decide which I prefer.’ He looked her up and down slowly, drawling, ‘Virginal blondes or tempestuous whores.’

  She caught her breath at his insolence.

  ‘I always dreamed of meeting a woman who was both,’ he said softly. ‘And I did the night you walked into the casino. You’re an exciting combination of madonna and whore. I’m afraid I can’t be stopped. I must have you.’

  For a long moment, she just stood there, breathless and afraid, staring up into his ruthless face. What he had said was unacceptable. She was so shocked that she couldn’t summon the anger to slap his insolent face because she simply had never been spoken to like this in her life, and the worst part was—she believed he meant every word he said.

  ‘Let me buy this scent for you,’ he drawled suddenly, picking up an expensive test bottle. ‘It’s my favourite. I’m sure it will suit you.’

  Raising the bottle, he softly pushed a swath of her blonde hair back, his long cool fingers touching her naked throat, hearing her catch her breath as excitement shivered through her.

  ‘I must find your pulse, my dear,’ he murmured, and slid his long fingers down until they encountered the hot throbbing beneath her white skin. ‘Ah,’ he said softly. ‘Unmistakable—’

  ‘Take your hands off me,’ she whispered, rooted to the spot, almost hypnotised by him.

  He just smiled, and then she felt the cool spray of scent on her throat. It felt so intimate, so erotic. ‘I’ll have to find all your pulses,’ he said under his breath, unsmiling. ‘One by one. The heat brings out the scent. Did you know that?’ His hands slid to her wrists, lifted them both. He studied the blue veins, feeling the rapid thud at his touch. He sprayed each wrist. His blue eyes flicked to meet hers compellingly. ‘When you’re my mistress,’ he said softly, ‘I shall put scent on your body every night.’ His dark head bent closer to her. ‘At your throat...your ankles—’

  Lucy broke away from him in a sudden fury. ‘How dare you say such things to me? How dare you?’ She was so angry she was shaking from head to foot, her pulses throbbing wildly. ‘If you don’t leave me alone, I shall scream, and then a store detective will come over and—’

  ‘Let me buy you this perfume,’ he cut in, unconcerned by her threat.

  ‘No!’ she snapped, rage in her green eyes. ‘I loathe it! It will always remind me of you!’

  ‘In that case,’ he drawled, ‘I shall buy you a very large bottle of it. You must keep it in your bedroom. Put it on before you go to bed. Then you’ll always think of me as you undress.’

  ‘Oh!’ Anger burning her cheeks scarlet, Lucy turned on her heel and stormed away from him, unable to fight him verbally, aware that her only defence was just to walk away. She expected him to follow her.

  Incredibly, he did not. As she stormed out of the department store, the scent clinging to her, she was still shaking with rage. How dared he do that to her in a public place! Touch her throat like that, spray this beastly scent on her pulses. As for telling her point-blank that he wanted her to become his mistress...!

  She wished she had slapped his face. Unfortunately, her horror of public scenes was too great. Still, she thought as she shopped alone for the next hour, he had obviously got the message in the end, because he didn’t show up again, and she was glad of that.

  When she got home, her father was up, drinking black coffee and relaxing in the drawing-room in an armchair, his white shirt open at the neck and his grey trousers expensive.

  ‘Morning, darling,’ he said lightly as she came in. ‘Have you been out shopping?’

  ‘We needed some food for the weekend.’ She bent to kiss his unshaven jaw, the pale stubble rough against her soft skin. ‘I got some essentials, and something special for dinner tonight.’

  ‘You are a sweetie.’ He smiled lovingly at her. ‘By the way—a package came for you. It’s over there, on the coffee-table.’

  Lucy glanced at the antique table, frowning. ‘For me?’ She picked up the square gift-wrapped box, tensing as she saw the bold black handwriting on it.

  ‘A boy delivered it,’ said her father. ‘About an hour ago.’

  Opening the package, she saw the gold writing embossed on white and trembled with rage as the large box of French perfume was exposed. How dared he! How dared he!

  ‘Something wrong?’ Her father was watching her face.

  With an effort, she controlled herself. ‘No...nothing at all.’ She gave him a tight smile. ‘I’ll just go and make myself some lunch.’

  Going upstairs, she stormed into her bedroom, through to the connecting bathroom, and ripped open the box, unscrewed the vast bottle of scent and poured it all down the sink.

  Waves of delicious scent engulfed her. Expensive, sexy, classy, fresh...it permeated the bathroom, drifted inexorably into the bedroom, clung to the cream carpet, the floor-length beige curtains, the cream-gold bed...

  For the rest of the day, her bedroom was an emporium of scent.

  And Randal’s arrogant, mocking smile filled her mind every time she set foot into her room. By nightfall, the whole of the upstairs of the house reminded her of those moments this afternoon and the dreadful, wicked, shamefully exciting things he had said.

  It was enough to make her scream...

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE next day, Lucy was polishing the drawing-room when she saw the long white sports car pull up outside the house. Pulses leaping with fury, she froze, staring. It was eleven o’clock, a sunny day, and her father was still asleep. If she didn’t answer the door to Randal, he would wake her father, and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want him to know that this dangerous man had taken such a fancy to her and was in hot pursuit. He didn’t even know she had visited the casino that night. What would he say if he found out what had happened? She had asked Edward to keep silent on the subject. They had dined together last night, as always on a Saturday night, and he had gone home at midnight, aware that her father was once more at Marlborough’s casino. But Edward could do no more to stop her father than Lucy herself could. He had told her he would go to the casino at some point himself to try to prevent her father from gambling. But so far, he hadn’t done anything. Lucy was afraid to go there again, and the reason for her fear was currently getting out of that long white sports car, flashing dangerous blue eyes to the house.

  Randal walked with that lazy arrogance to the door. He looked casually wealthy in black trousers and a black cashmere V-neck sweater. His black hair was pushed back from his hard forehead, his blue eyes hooded by those heavy eyelids.

  Lucy moved away to the hall, light footsteps taking her to the front door before he could knock or ring or make any sound that might wake her father.

  Wrenching open the door, she looked angrily into his face. ‘What are you doing here?’

  He smiled mockingly. ‘I came to see you. What else?’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to see you. Haven’t you got the message yet?’

  ‘But you’ve answered the door.’ Black brows arched coolly.

  Lucy’s face flushed a delicate pink. ‘I didn’t want you hammering on the door and attracting attention. This is a quiet residential square. The neighbours notice everything that happens.’

  He surveyed her with amused insolence. ‘Nothing to do with your father sleeping off last night’s hangover, then?’

  Lucy’s colour deepened. ‘I don’t know what you mean!’

  ‘He was in the casino until dawn,’ Randal said coolly, his face unsmiling. ‘He ordered a magnum of champagne. I doubt he’ll surface much before lunchtime.’

  ‘Gossip?’ she queried, dislike in her green eyes.

  He laughed under his breath. ‘That’s right. Aren’t you going to ask me in? I’d love a cup of coffee.’

  ‘No, I’m not going to ask you in,’ she said tightly, and began to close the door.

  ‘Want me to start hammering on the door?’ he draw
led, preventing her from shutting it with one strong hand.

  Her eyes warred with his. Angrily, she felt she had no option but to let him in. ‘Very well,’ she said angrily. ‘I’ll let you come in. But one false move and I’ll scream the house down.’ Holding the door back for him, she felt her pulses leap as he moved inside.

  He dominated the hallway, his presence like electricity. He was so tall—at least six feet four—and those shoulders were intensely broad, his body rippling with lean muscle.

  Lucy looked up at him through her lashes. ‘We’ll go in the kitchen. Please keep your voice down...’

  He followed her coolly along the hall. Lucy was so aware of him behind her that her pulses were leaping like fire by the time they reached the kitchen.

  As they entered the sunlit pine kitchen, she turned and found him right behind her, very close, his muscled chest at eye-level, the tanned flesh visible where the V of his sweater ended, and a sprinkling of black hairs curling there.

  Her eyes flashed to meet his. Their gazes collided with violent impact. She felt breathless suddenly, her heart thudding with alarm. Why does he affect me like this? she thought in panic.

  ‘I’ll get you that coffee...’ she said, her voice oddly husky, and turned away from him, going to the side and switching on the kettle.

  He moved behind her, and she felt his breath on her neck as he bent his dark head, long fingers pushing her blonde hair softly back to expose the naked nape of her neck.

  ‘You’re not wearing that perfume,’ he said softly, and his mouth kissed her throat.

  Angrily, she turned. ‘Keep your hands to yourself!’

  ‘Why aren’t you wearing it? I went to a great deal of trouble to have it delivered here for you.’

  ‘I couldn’t stand the smell of it,’ she said deliberately. ‘It reminded me of you.’

  ‘What did you do? Pour it down a sink?’

  Her face flamed. ‘Yes!’

  He laughed. ‘Well, that rebounded on you, didn’t it? The whole house smells of it.’