But maybe that was why the takeover was so important to him. It was his way of proving himself to his family. To pull off the deal of a lifetime, overcoming every obstacle in the way—including her—to take the hotel chain to the top of boutique luxury accommodation. ‘Is that why you went after my hotel the way you did? Because you wanted to prove yourself to your family?’
‘It’s part of it.’ He gave a rueful grimace. ‘Okay, it’s most of it. But I wanted to prove it to myself more than anyone.’
She couldn’t stop a little resentment creeping into her tone. ‘Couldn’t you have picked another hotel?’
He trailed a finger down the curve of her cheek. ‘I’ve always loved The Harrington. What it stands for. The old-world class and sophistication that sets it apart.’
Was he talking about the hotel or her? The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice made her hopes lift. But she just as quickly squashed them. She had no business getting emotionally involved with him. That part of her heart was locked. Bolted. She frowned again, harder, so hard she felt it tug at her forehead. ‘But you want to change it. You said I wasn’t making the most of its assets.’
‘I only want to maximise what you’re already doing,’ he said. ‘Raising the bar above your nearest competitor which is why we need to follow through on our secret shopper mission.’
‘How are we going to keep our identities a secret? As soon as we check in they’re going to know who we are.’
‘I have it sorted.’
She looked at him narrowly. ‘How?’
He gave her a twinkling smile. ‘Someone has generously given us an accommodation voucher all expenses paid. We just have to turn up.’
‘But won’t reception want a credit card swipe for incidentals such as the minibar or room service? It’s standard practice.’
He lifted a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. ‘The staff on the front desk aren’t going to take any notice of what name’s on my credit card.’
She gave him a wry look. ‘They will when they see it’s a black one. Only half a per cent of the population have one of those.’
Something flickered across his darkly handsome features. ‘I don’t brandish my wealth around like I used to.’
Isabelle frowned at his tone. ‘Because you don’t feel it’s your wealth anymore?’
His gaze moved away from hers. ‘I’d better let you get to work. We both have a busy day ahead.’
She let out a sigh and picked up her purse from where she had left it on the table next to the sofa. She glanced at him again but he was back at the windows looking out at the view of Central Park. The urge to go to him was strong, almost too strong to resist. But she sensed he needed time and space to gather himself. ‘I’ll be free tonight if you’re still interested.’
He didn’t turn around but she noticed his shoulders lost some of their tension. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
So will I, she thought. Much more than I should.
Much more than is wise.
* * *
Isabelle put the final touches on the meal the kitchen had sent up. The candles were lit, the wine chilled, the lights turned to a muted glow. She had never brought someone back to her suite, or at least not a date. Even her girlfriends—the few she managed to keep in touch with when work allowed—met her in cafés or restaurants. Inviting friends back to her hotel suite had always felt rather odd. It was odd living in a hotel but she had never thought of living anywhere else. Living on-site meant she could sort out problems without delay.
But Spencer’s comment about living outside the hotel had struck a distant chord in her. She wondered what it would be like...an apartment of her own, or a town house with a little garden, or a cottage in the Hamptons for when she needed to get out of the frenzied busyness of New York.
The doorbell rang and she smoothed her hands down her hips. Nerves fluttered in her stomach. Her heart skipped a beat. Her insides quivered at the memory of the passion she and Spencer had shared early that morning. Her body had felt jazzy all day from the experience of making love with him.
Having sex, she corrected.
Isabelle opened the door to find him standing there with something dangling from his fingers. ‘What on earth is that?’ she said.
‘A present for Atticus,’ he said, handing a toy mouse to her.
She gave him a narrowed look. ‘You’re bending the rules.’
He smiled and stepped over the threshold. ‘I figured since he can’t catch any real ones he might as well have a go at chasing a fake one.’
She closed the door and led the way through to the sitting room area where Atticus was curled up on the one of the sofas. ‘I thought you said I had to get rid of him.’
Spencer gave the cat a scratch behind the ears. Atticus slitted his eyes in pleasure and started purring like an engine. ‘I feel sorry for him stuck living in a hotel. What sort of place is this for a cat? He should have a garden so he can bask in the sunshine. Don’t cats like to do that?’
Isabelle had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about the cat. ‘Would you like a drink?’
‘In a minute,’ he said. ‘I want to see if Atticus likes his present.’
She watched as he wound up the toy and set it on the floor. Atticus crouched low, tail twitching, and then as soon as Spencer released the toy Atticus sprang off the sofa in pursuit, batting it with his paws while it whirled about crazily, finally subduing it as the wind-up mechanism ran out of puff.
‘See?’ Spencer smiled up at Isabelle. ‘A natural born killer.’
She gave him a hardened look. ‘Which is why he’s better off locked inside so he can’t destroy the wildlife.’
He straightened and took the glass of champagne she had poured. ‘How was your day?’
‘Fine. Yours?’
He searched her gaze for a moment. ‘Any regrets?’
‘About what?’
‘About this morning.’
Isabelle kept her expression as unreadable as possible. Difficult considering her body was already reacting to his proximity. ‘No.’
He stroked a lazy finger down the underside of her jaw. ‘Nor me.’ He waited a beat before adding, ‘It felt good. Telling you, I mean.’
She gave up trying to control her expression. ‘I’m glad you told me but I’m still trying to figure out why me of all people.’
His fingertip gently outlined her mouth, making every nerve fizz and buzz with delight. ‘Aren’t lovers supposed to share secrets with each other?’
Should she tell him her secret? Isabelle wondered. The painful secret of her loss, the guilt she still felt, the turmoil of emotion she went through every time she heard the word mother or saw a mother and child...the overwhelming jealousy she felt...
She wasn’t ready to tell him. It was too soon. She didn’t know if she could trust him.
She slipped her gaze out of reach of his, concentrating on his mouth instead. ‘We don’t have that sort of relationship.’
He brought up her chin. ‘We could have.’
Isabelle almost lost herself in the dark blue sea of his gaze, only pulling herself back in time as reality dawned. He was charming her. Trying to get her to relax the rules. He wasn’t serious about a future with her. He wanted to win this. It was a game to him. She dislodged his hand from her face. ‘Ha, ha, like that could ever work,’ she said. ‘You live in England. I live here.’
‘You could move.’
Isabelle rounded on him. ‘What, and leave everything I’ve sacrificed and worked for here? Not going to happen, no matter how good in bed you are.’
His expression tightened like a fist. ‘I don’t believe you’re happy with the life you live. For God’s sake, you live in a hotel room with a cat. You haven’t had a serious relationship since I don’t know when. How can you s
ay you’re happy?’
‘I didn’t say I was happy,’ she threw back. ‘But who is? You certainly aren’t with all your one-night stands and shallow flings, so who are you to say my life sucks?’
He let out a long breath as he pushed his hand through his hair. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I have no right to pass judgement.’
Isabelle bit down on her lip and turned away. ‘I’ll get dinner sorted.’
‘Wait.’ His hand came down on her shoulder and turned her to face him. His eyes searched hers for an endless moment. ‘I want us to be friends as well as lovers. We don’t have to snip and snarl at each other because of what’s happened before. Can’t we start over?’
Start over?
How easy would life be if she could do that? Just rewind the clock. Press replay. Eradicate all the hurt and pain as if it had never happened.
As if their baby had never happened...
Isabelle moistened her lower lip where her teeth had pressed so firmly. ‘You can’t wipe away the past. Life doesn’t work like that or at least not for me it doesn’t.’
He gripped the tops of her shoulders in a firm but gentle hold. ‘I know it’s difficult to let go. I’m sorry about how I behaved back then. I was too proud and stubborn to fight for what we had. But last night when you stayed with me...that meant something to me, you know? I guess that’s why I told you about my father. I saw something in you I knew I could trust.’
Isabelle saw the glint of earnestness in his gaze. Could he be telling the truth? Did he want more than a fling? It was so tempting to relax her armour. But what if she got her hopes crushed all over again? She’d been a sucker for falling for him once. She would be certifiable for doing it twice. ‘I think we should stick to the rules for now,’ she said. ‘I’m not ready for anything else.’
He gave her shoulders a little squeeze, his expression rueful. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss someone more than you right now.’
‘I’m not stopping you.’
He gave a lopsided smile. ‘You still think you can win this, don’t you?’
Isabelle held her breath as his head came closer, his warm minty breath mingling intimately with hers. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘I dare you.’
His mouth came within a whisker of hers, his lips playing with the corner of her mouth where every sensitive nerve quivered in delight. He moved his lips to the other side of her mouth, and then to her chin, his light stubble grazing her skin, making her knees almost fold beneath her. ‘You’re the most bewitching woman I’ve ever met.’
‘Save those lines for someone who’ll fall for them.’
He pulled back to look at her with a frown. ‘You don’t think I mean it?’
Isabelle wanted him to mean it. She ached for him to mean it. But he’d said similar things before and look how that had turned out. ‘I think you’re good at getting what you want by any means you can. Flattery, seduction, bending the rules to suit your ends.’
He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. It was something he had done a lot in the past, as if he found her mouth fascinating to touch. She found it thrilling to have him touch it. It made her want him all the more. The need pulsed through her. The need to feel his mouth press hard down on hers, drawing from her a response that came up from her toes and consumed her entire body. ‘You don’t like me very much, do you?’ he said.
‘Lust has nothing to do with liking someone.’
His eyes smouldered as they held hers. ‘Do you still hate me?’
Isabelle lowered her gaze to his mouth. ‘A little.’
A light of triumph sparked in his gaze. ‘But not as much as before.’
She pursed her lips. ‘I’m sure your ego will survive the fact I’m not going to fall in love with you.’
‘Did you ten years ago?’
The question momentarily threw her. She stood looking at him numbly, not wanting to think of how she had felt back then. The hurt, the sense of betrayal and the disappointment of having everything she longed for taken away. No way would she admit how deeply she had fallen for him. It was humiliating enough he had such sensual influence over her even now. But as long as she kept things focused on the physical chemistry they shared she would be safe in a way she hadn’t been before. ‘I was infatuated with you. It was my first love affair. I was soon over it once I came back to earth.’
Nothing showed on his expression but she got the feeling he was disappointed in her answer. He touched her lower lip again, his eyes hooded. ‘Do we have to have dinner straightaway?’ he said.
‘No, it can wait a bit.’
‘Good.’ His head came down again as his lips travelled in a blistering trail to the shallow dish between the juncture of her collarbones. ‘Because I have other things on my mind right now.’
Isabelle shuddered as his tongue laved her skin, making her senses reel like a spinning top. His body moved closer, so close she could feel the heat and potency of his erection. She pressed against him, all that was feminine in her reaching for all that was male in him. She could feel her inner core contracting in anticipation, the flexing and coiling of intimate muscles. No one could make her more aroused than him. It was like an uncontrollable force moving within her body. It consumed her in a feverish heat that made her blood sizzle inside the network of her veins.
His hands moved from her shoulders to slide down to her hips, pulling her closer until she felt every hard contour of his body. She stroked her hand over him, teasing him with her touch, relishing in the way he surged against her.
‘I want you naked,’ he said against her neck, his teeth tugging at her skin in a bite that had a hint of danger to it.
Isabelle brought her mouth to within a breath of his, playing with the edges where his stubble grew in spiky bursts. ‘So undress me.’
He tugged her silk blouse out of the waist of her pencil slim skirt, and then began to unbutton it, pausing between each release of button from its hole to press a hot kiss to her exposed flesh. By the time he got to the buttons between her breasts she was breathless with excitement. He sucked on each nipple through her bra, teasing her with the expectation of removing the lace barrier so he could take her in his mouth.
He undid the last of the buttons and helped her wriggle out of the blouse until it slipped to the floor in a silken pool. He unhooked her bra and cupped her in his hands, his thumbs moving over her nipples until they were pebble hard and aching for his lips and tongue. He lowered his mouth to each of her breasts in turn, lingering over them, torturing them with the flick and glide of his tongue and the gentle scrape of his teeth.
She was fast losing track of everything but what was happening in her body. The desire she felt for him was surging through her like a bullet train. She couldn’t control her response to him even if she wanted to. She was going on primal instinct; she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. She moaned her need, unashamed of the lust that burned and raged in her body.
He pulled down the zipper at the back of her skirt, letting his warm hands glide over her bottom, over her panties first and then below them. The electric shock of his touch on her naked flesh made her shiver in pleasure. She undid his trousers and freed him from his underwear in a frantic mission to subject him to the same heart-stopping torture. He was fully engorged, primed for his possession of her.
She massaged him with her cupped hand, in up and down strokes that made him groan with delight. But he only let her do it for a moment or two before he pulled her hand away. He didn’t speak. She wondered if like her he was incapable of it. The needs that raced through her were robbing her of the ability to think, let alone anything else.
He pushed her to the floor, not roughly but with an urgency that spoke of the firestorm of passion that powered through him. He somehow sourced a condom from his nearby trouser pocket, tearing the packet with his teeth and applying
it with a deftness that reminded her of his level of experience in comparison to the paucity of hers.
He stroked between her folds, finding her swollen clitoris with devastating accuracy. Her back lifted off the floor as she felt the first tingles of an approaching orgasm. He entered her then with a smooth, thick thrust that triggered her release like a pin being pulled on a grenade. It was just as explosive. Her body clenched him as she shook and shuddered with spasms of rapture, his deepening thrusts escalating her pleasure to previously unknown bounds. She thrashed and bucked and writhed beneath his pumping body, her gasping cries shattering the silence. She clung to him as he finally gave in and spilled. She felt each deep shudder go through him, felt the fine gravel of goose bumps spring up over his back and shoulders where she held him. His breathing was as hectic as hers, his chest rising and falling against her breasts.
‘I hope I haven’t given you carpet burn,’ he said after a long moment.
Isabelle danced her fingertips up and down his spine like she was playing the piano. ‘I’ll have you know that at The Harrington we only have the very finest in woollen carpets that do not give our clientele carpet burn.’
He propped himself up on his elbows to grin at her. ‘Maybe I should do a quality control test.’ He suddenly rolled, taking her with him so she was straddling him.
Isabelle’s loosened hair fell about her breasts, tickling them in the same way his touch had done earlier. The way he was looking at her, his eyes dark with desire, made her feel more powerfully, vibrantly, sensually alive than at any other time of her life. It gave her a sense of boldness she hadn’t possessed in the past. She was on top. A position she hadn’t adopted before.
She gathered her hair in one hand and pushed it over her left shoulder as she wriggled down so her mouth was within reach of his stirring erection. She sent her tongue the entire length of him, slowly, tantalising him with a delicate caress that made him smother an expletive.
Chatsfield's Ultimate Acquisition (The Chatsfield: New York Book 1) Page 13
