Chatsfield's Ultimate Acquisition (The Chatsfield: New York Book 1)

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  ‘You sound like you’re really fond of her.’

  Isabelle shrugged one shoulder. ‘I’m running a business, not a friendship society. I’d fire her tomorrow if she wasn’t doing her job.’

  He gave a tilted smile. ‘Liar.’

  She pulled out her chair and made a point of positioning it just so behind her desk as she sat down. She tossed her hair back with a little roll of her neck and shoulders and faced him squarely. ‘What did you want to see me about? I have work to do so if you could make it snappy...’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about our situation.’

  She glared at him across the desk. ‘There is no situation apart from you being a ruthless player who takes anything that piques his fancy without considering how other people feel about it.’

  There was a moment of tense silence.

  ‘Fine. I probably deserved that.’ He let out a long sigh. ‘I admit that when I met you in London I did everything I could to seduce you. I saw you as a challenge I couldn’t—wouldn’t—resist. I didn’t have the sensitivity back then to realise you were playing hard to get because you were waiting for Mr Right.’

  ‘I wasn’t waiting for Mr Anybody,’ Isabelle said. ‘I just hadn’t got around to having sex. I was too busy holding this place together and watching out for my younger sisters.’ She got up from behind her desk and busied herself pouring tea. ‘Do you still have it with milk and half a sugar?’

  ‘How on earth did you remember that?’

  Isabelle slipped her gaze out of reach of his. ‘I seem to remember we drank a lot of tea back then.’ She handed him a cup but was dismayed at the way her hand was shaking, making the cup rattle in its saucer.

  He took the cup from her and put it down on the desk before he came around to her side of the desk and took her hands in his and brought her to her feet in front of him. His eyes meshed with hers in a searching look that made her heart contract. His thumbs stroked over the backs of her hands, smoothing, soothing strokes that made her legs feel tingly from the tops of her thighs to the backs of her knees. ‘It doesn’t have to be this way between us, Isabelle.’

  She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. He had an unnerving skill at disarming her when she least expected it. His gentle voice, tender touch and focused gaze made her defences crumble. Why couldn’t he stick with his smart-ass comments and teasing smiles? Why did he have to go all sweet and sensitive on her? It wasn’t fair. ‘What do you mean?’

  His eyes drifted to her mouth, watched as the tip of her tongue sneaked out to moisten it. ‘Enemies. Rivals. Fighting all the time.’

  Something low and deep in her belly wobbled. ‘What are you suggesting?’

  His eyes came back to hers. Dark. Deep. Unfathomable. ‘We could do what the paper thinks we’re already doing.’

  Isabelle wondered what his motivation was. She could see the benefits businesswise. It wouldn’t look good for the Chatsfield brand to be seen as a ruthless giant overtaking a small family-run hotel. If the takeover were seen as a more personal interest on his part, cooperative rather than a conquest, it would benefit both parties. ‘Have an affair, you mean?’

  ‘Neither of us is married so it wouldn’t be an affair.’

  ‘What would it be?’

  ‘A relationship.’

  She looked at his chin as she caught her breath. A relationship? With the man who didn’t do relationships? Her heart began to hammer. Her body began to stir in excitement. Could she do it? Could she have a relationship with him and settle the ache of her flesh once and for all?

  She could keep control this time. She wouldn’t get too ahead of herself. There would be no foolish thinking of living happily ever after. No thinking of cute little babies and making a family together. No falling in love and expecting to be loved in turn.

  It would be about sex and sex only. She would indulge in a lust fest and get out before he could end it. It would settle the score between them. Leave her with a sense of justice. If she couldn’t get the shares back, then at least she would have her pride.

  Isabelle kept her expression nonchalant as she met his gaze once more. ‘Do you have a specific timeline in mind?’

  His eyes moved between each of hers in a back and forth motion that was both mesmerising and dangerous. She had to fight hard to keep her emotions veiled. He might have missed her innocence in the past but it was clear he wasn’t going to miss a trick now. There was an intensity to his gaze, a sharply observant quality that made her feel as if he could see into her soul. ‘Why don’t we take it a day at a time?’ he said.

  Isabelle chastised herself for her sense of disappointment. What had she been expecting him to say? That he wanted her to be with him for ever? He would never say that. Not to her. Not to anyone. ‘I have a couple of stipulations,’ she said.

  Nothing showed on his expression. Not a muscle moved. It was almost too controlled. He didn’t even blink. ‘Which are?’

  ‘No staying overnight.’

  He acknowledged that with a slight movement of his mouth. Not quite a smile. Not quite a grimace. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘What else?’

  ‘No gifts.’

  He glanced at the flowers on her desk. ‘You want me to get rid of them?’

  ‘No. I don’t want to have to explain their absence to Laura.’

  This time he did smile but it was one part humour, three parts derision. ‘Anything else?’

  Isabelle squared her shoulders. Steeled her resolve. ‘No kissing.’

  His eyebrows lifted a fraction. ‘That’s a biggie.’

  ‘It’s not negotiable.’

  He studied her for a long throbbing moment.

  Isabelle got the feeling he was revisiting every one of their kisses. Her own mind filled with images of their mouths locked together in passionate exchanges, his tongue tangling with hers, duelling, subduing, conquering.

  She couldn’t quite control the impulse to glance at his mouth. He was freshly shaven but even so she could see the pinpricks of stubble on his lean jaw and around the sculpted perfection of his mouth. She could smell the light citrus tang of his aftershave. It teased her nostrils, wafting over her in a subtle but powerfully evocative manner. It was far more alluring than the fragrant bouquet of flowers sitting on her desk. She remembered the intimate scent of him, the musk and male scent that had delighted her senses. Drugged and stoned her into sensual overload.

  His gaze became sleepily hooded as he looked at her mouth. Was he remembering the times she had pleasured him? She had gone on instinct alone, using her lips and tongue to push him to the brink. Teasing him, tasting the essence of him, feeling the power of him and the vulnerability. He had done the same to her; subjecting her to mind-blowing orgasms, making her thrash and writhe as the spasms moved through her body like oversize waves.

  The erotic memories were like another presence in the room. They charged the air with a fizzing static that made the flesh on Isabelle’s arms lift in a shower of goose bumps. She could feel her inner core contracting. Remembering. Wanting. Aching.

  She became aware of her breasts inside the lace cup of her bra. They pushed against the cobweb of fabric, reminding her of their need to feel his lips and tongue, the sexy scrape of his teeth, the suck and draw of his mouth.

  A glint came into his eyes as they reconnected with hers. ‘How about I strike a little deal with you?’

  She shook her head. ‘Na-ah. No deals.’

  ‘You should listen to what’s on the table before you reject it out of hand,’ he said. ‘Sound business practice. Otherwise who knows? You might be missing out on the deal of a lifetime.’

  What would he put on the line? Isabelle wondered. Liliana’s shares? Surely not...would he? A shiver scooted down her spine and shot back up again, making the hairs on the back of her neck tingle at the roots. ‘Go on.’
<
br />   He held her gaze in a heart-stopping lock. ‘If either of us breaks the kissing rule we have to forfeit something.’

  Another frisson of excitement coursed through her. ‘Two per cent?’

  One of his brows lifted. ‘You’d risk that much?’

  She frowned as disappointment collided with elation. ‘What were you going to suggest?’

  ‘One per cent.’

  Isabelle chewed it over for a moment. If he won he’d be even further in front with fifty-two per cent. But if she won she would be level with him at fifty per cent. At least then she would be equal shareholder.

  But if she lost...

  Her stomach pitched at the thought. Was that why he’d offered the deal? He wanted more than he already had. He was a businessman first and foremost. He wouldn’t let a ‘relationship’ get in the way of a business deal. She would be foolish to think he was trying to balance things out of consideration for her. The flowers were a nice touch, but she was not so easily wooed this time around. She had laid down the rules. He was trying to bend them to serve his interests.

  She wouldn’t lose. She would not allow herself to lose. This was her chance to claw back what should have been hers in the first place.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘You’re on.’

  His mouth kicked up at one corner. ‘You’re so confident you’re going to win.’

  Isabelle gave him a self-assured smile. ‘But of course.’

  She watched as his gaze went back to her mouth and back to her eyes, measuring, calculating. ‘What if you lose?’ he said.

  ‘I won’t.’ Her voice sounded far more confident than she felt. She knew him well enough to know he would test her at every corner. He would tease and tempt her until she cracked. But with the shares as her incentive she was going to fight with every cell in her body to win. It was her chance to show him what she was made of. Not soppy warm emotion and vulnerability, but cold, hard steel.

  He held out his hand. ‘Shall we shake on it?’

  Isabelle slipped her hand into the warm cage of his, her stomach doing a somersault as his fingers closed around hers. The heat passing from his body to hers lit spot fires in her flesh: along each of her fingers, from her wrist and up her arms, over her shoulder and down the length of her spine to the secret cave of her womanhood. Never had a handshake felt more intimate. It was like he was caressing her with his mind, stirring her into a molten pool of longing.

  She gave herself a mental slap and pulled her hand away. ‘Um, shouldn’t we have something legal drawn up?’

  His blue eyes smouldered as they held hers. ‘You don’t trust a gentleman’s agreement?’

  Isabelle gave him an arch look. ‘You said you weren’t a gentleman, remember?’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IF ONLY SHE KNEW, Spencer thought. ‘What are you doing for lunch?’ he said.

  She blinked as if she found the swift subject change disorienting. ‘Nothing...I usually have something at my desk.’

  ‘Why don’t we have a working lunch in my office?’ he said. ‘I’ll get the kitchen to send up a tray.’

  She gave him a guarded look. ‘Why can’t we go out or have it in the restaurant downstairs?’

  Spencer knew what she was doing. She was trying to keep from being alone with him. He smiled to himself. He’d only agreed to her rules because he knew she needed time to get her head around being involved with him again. He hadn’t handled things well in the past but that wasn’t to say he couldn’t make up some ground. He found her company so stimulating. She was feisty and spirited, passionate and yet determined not to show it. ‘I thought you might find the press a bit intrusive,’ he said. ‘They’ll be out in packs looking for a confirmation about our relationship.’

  She chewed at her lower lip, pulling it almost the whole way into her mouth before releasing it. ‘Fine. Your office it is. What time?’

  He watched as the blood returned to her lips in a pink tide. His lips tingled at the memory of how those full soft lips felt against his own. She had a bee-stung curve to her mouth, a lush youthful bow that never failed to draw his gaze. ‘Shall we say one?’

  ‘Fine.’ She gave a brisk nod and marched back behind her desk. He got the feeling she was using it as a barricade. She stood behind it with her hands braced on the back of her office chair. ‘Will that be all?’

  He searched her gaze for any trace of the girl he had met in London, the girl whose smile had tugged on something in his chest. Was he crazy to play such a dangerous game with her? He liked risks but only the ones he could count on cashing in.

  She wasn’t that guileless girl with the shy smile anyanmore. She was a cool-headed businesswoman who had an agenda—a goal she put before everything. She wanted major share of The Harrington and was prepared to fight hard and dirty for it.

  He was confident he had her covered. How hard could it be? She had set up her silly little rules, which amused him more than anything. How long would she keep up the no-kissing thing? Her mouth was made for kissing. Never had he been with a woman who could kiss with as much enthusiasm and passion as she did.

  But there were other ways to kiss. He remembered how her breasts had felt against his lips and tongue. The silky feel of her skin, the smooth satin of it as his stubble grazed it, often times leaving a mark. The thought of his body branding her as his triggered something deeply primal in him.

  Then there was her neck, the creamy swan-like length of it, and her hands with their dainty, soft fingertips that could stir such a storm in his blood.

  And yet, there was a hardened quality to her now that made him wonder if he had underestimated her. He needed time with her. Uninterrupted time where he could explore the chemistry that fizzed like a current between them, the chemistry she was all too aware of and clearly trying to control on her terms. What was she frightened of? They were both fully mature adults who had a desire for each other that had never quite gone away. She insisted she was a career girl, that marriage and family were not a driving passion for her. He had said much the same, which made them equals in what they wanted out of their relationship.

  How can you be equals when you own majority share?

  The little voice was like a tap on Spencer’s shoulder. A reminder that nothing was equal between him and Isabelle while he was her boss. He was in charge of her hotel. The hotel she had poured years of her life into. He had been appointed major shareholder by a stroke of luck rather than anything he had worked for. The victory should taste sweeter than it did. He had strived hard for this opportunity to prove himself to his family, but in doing so he had to negotiate a way to manage Isabelle and their past history. It went against everything he had worked for to simply hand over the shares in a goodwill gesture. What if in a fit of revenge she sold them to a competitor? He didn’t know enough about her motives to trust her. She had expressed her anger at him from day one. The lust that pulsed between them didn’t cancel out her fury, if anything he thought it fuelled it. She resented the fact she wanted him. She hated herself for it. She saw it as a weakness in herself while he delighted in it. He had agreed to her little rules with their one per cent stake because he knew he could win. He was sure of it.

  ‘I’ve changed my mind about lunch,’ he said. ‘Let’s make it dinner.’

  Her eyelids flickered. ‘Dinner?’

  ‘In my suite.’

  Her throat rose and fell over a swallow, her cheeks flushing a faint rosy pink. ‘If you wish.’

  He ran his gaze over her neat and trim knee-length dress with its schoolmarmish jacket. Had she dressed so primly to keep her body from betraying her? The tailored clothes kept the swell of her curves contained; there was no hint of cleavage or bare arms and shoulders. She was buttoned up but he could feel the passion that simmered beneath the surface. It was an electric energy in her, an energy that collided wi
th his every time their gazes met. ‘Wear something comfortable.’

  Her whisky-brown eyes flashed at him with a hint of defiance. ‘I’ll wear what I damn well want.’

  He raised his hand to his lips and kissed the end of his index and middle finger and then blew it across to her with a devilish wink. ‘See you at seven.’

  * * *

  Isabelle let out a long furious breath as the door closed behind him. Her skin was hot. Her nerves were jangled. Her body was quivering with traitorous anticipation and need. Was she making the biggest mistake—the second biggest mistake—of her life by playing such a dangerous game with him?

  But it would be worth it if she could claw back even one per cent of those shares.

  He wanted her.

  That was his weakness, the only one she could see so far. He was a powerful enemy. Powerful and potent, so potent she could sense the testosterone oozing out of him every time he was in the same room as her. Which was why she had to keep him from kissing her. He could undo her with a single kiss. Kissing was too intimate, too emotional. She gave too much of herself when she kissed him. He drew it out of her like he had special powers. No one else could do it to her. No one else ever had. He had a magician’s mouth, spellbinding, captivating. Unforgettable.

  This way she would be able to control things, keep things on the level.

  They would come together as equals this time. This was a business deal like any other. He wanted her. She wanted him. It was about sex, not emotion. She could do that. She could shut off her mind and let her body take over. She had done it before.

  Laura gave a quick tap before popping her head around the door. ‘Will I take the tea things now?’