About the Author

KATE HEWITT has worked a variety of different jobs, from Drama Teacher to Editorial Assistant to Youth Worker, but writing romance is the best one yet. She also writes women’s fiction and all her stories celebrate the healing and redemptive power of love. Kate lives in a tiny village in the English Cotswolds with her husband, five children, and an overly affectionate Golden Retriever.

Her Innocence, His Conquest

Kate Hewitt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-472-00217-4

HER INNOCENCE, HIS CONQUEST

© 2013 Kate Hewitt

Published in Great Britain 2013

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Zoe,

Thanks for your inspiration and friendship,

love, K.

Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

HE WAS CHECKING his phone.

Zoe Parker twitched with irritation as she watched the groom’s best man thumb a few buttons on his smart phone. Discreetly, at least, but honestly. Her sister Millie and her husband-to-be Chase were saying their vows, and Aaron Bryant was texting.

He was unbelievable. He was also a complete jerk. A sexy jerk, unfortunately; tall, broad and exuding authority out of every pore. He also exuded a smug arrogance that made Zoe want to kick him in the shin. Or maybe a little higher. If she could have, she would have reached across the train of her sister’s elegant cream wedding dress and snatched the mobile out of his fingers. Long, lean fingers with nicely square-cut nails, but who was noticing? She certainly wasn’t.

She turned back to the minister, determinedly giving him her full attention. Maybe Aaron the Ass would pick up a few pointers. Honestly, the man was a gazillionaire and was a regularly attender at Manhattan’s most elite social functions—did he really need a brush-up course on basic etiquette? Based on his behaviour since he’d strode into the rehearsal forty-five minutes late last night, clearly impatient and bored before he’d so much as said hello, Zoe was thinking yes.

She glanced at Millie, who thankfully had not noticed the phone. She looked beautiful, radiant in a way Zoe had never seen before, her eyes shining, her cheeks flushed. Everything about her was happy.

Zoe smothered the very tiny pang of something almost like envy. She wasn’t looking for Mr Right. She’d gone for too many Mr Wrongs to think he existed, or to want to find him if he did. Although admittedly Millie’s almost-husband was pretty close. Chase Bryant was charming, genuinely nice and very attractive.

Just like his brother.

Instinctively Zoe slid her gaze back to Aaron. He was still on the phone. Forget charming or nice but, yes, he was most definitely attractive. A faint frown creased his forehead and his lips thinned. He had nice lips, even pursed as they were in obvious irritation. They were full, sculpted, yet completely masculine too. In fact, everything about this irritating man was incredibly masculine, from the breadth of his shoulders to the near-black of his eyes and hair to the long, lean curve of his back and thigh…

‘By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.’

Zoe yanked her gaze upwards from her rather leisurely perusal of Aaron Bryant’s butt in time to see Millie and Chase kiss—and Aaron slide his phone back into the side pocket of his suit blazer.

Ass.

The congregation broke into spontaneous and joyous applause and Millie linked arms with Chase as she turned to leave the church. Aaron followed and, as maid of honour, Zoe had to accompany him up the aisle. She slid her arm through his, realising it was the first time she’d actually touched him since he’d breezed in too late to the rehearsal to practise going through the recessional together.

Now she was annoyingly conscious of the strength of his arm linked in hers, his powerful shoulder inches from her cheek—and her fingers inches from his pocket. With the phone.

Zoe didn’t think too much about what she was doing. On the pretext of adjusting her bridesmaid’s dress, she slid her arm more securely in Aaron’s and her fingers slipped into his pocket and curled round the phone.

Chase’s other brother Luke and his fiancée Aurelie fell in step behind them and they processed out onto the church steps and the summer sunshine of Fifth Avenue. Aaron pulled away from her without so much as a glance, and in one fluid movement Zoe took the phone from his pocket and hid it in the folds of her dress.

Not that it mattered. To all intents and purposes, according to Aaron she’d ceased to exist. He was gazing at his brother as if he were a puzzle he didn’t understand and absent-mindedly patting his pocket. His phoneless pocket.

Zoe took the opportunity to tuck the phone among the blossoms of her bouquet. A little judicious tugging of ribbon and lace, and you wouldn’t even know it was there.

Not that Zoe even knew what she was going to do with Aaron Bryant’s phone. She just wanted to see his face when he realised he didn’t have it.

Apparently that moment wasn’t going to be now, because someone approached him and he dropped his hand from his pocket and turned to talk to whatever schmoozy bigwig wanted to hear about Bryant Enterprises, blah, blah, blah. This was so not her crowd.

It was Millie’s crowd, though, and it was certainly Chase’s. Millie was marrying into the Bryant family, a trio of brothers who regularly made the tabloids and gossip pages. Aaron certainly did; when Zoe flicked through the mags during the slow periods at the coffee shop, she almost always saw a picture of him with some bodacious blonde. Judging from the way he’d dismissed her upon introduction last night with one swiftly eloquent head-to-toe perusal, skinny brunettes were not his type.

‘Zoe, the photographer wants some shots of the wedding party.’ Amanda, Zoe’s mother, elegant if a little fraught in pale blue silk, hurried up to her. ‘And I think Millie’s train needs adjusting, darling. That’s your job, you know.’

‘Yes, Mum, I know.’ This was the second time she’d been Millie’s maid of honour. She might not be as organised as her sister—well, not even remotely—but she could handle her duties. She’d certainly given Millie a great hen party, at any rate.

Smiling at the memory of her uptight sister singing karaoke in the East Village, Zoe headed towards the wedding party assembled on the steps of the church. The photographer wanted them to walk two blocks to Central Park, and Chase looked like he’d rather relax with a beer.

‘Come on, Chase,’ Zoe said as she came to stand next to him. ‘You’ll be glad of the photos a couple of months from now. You and Millie can invite me over and have a slideshow.’

Chase’s mouth quirked in a smile. ‘I’m not sure who that would torture more.’

Zoe laughed softly and went to adjust Millie’s aforementioned train. ‘Has Mum sent you over here to fuss?’ Millie guessed, and Zoe smiled.

‘I never fuss.’

‘That’s true, I suppose,’ Millie said teasingly and they started walking towards Central Park. ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word.’

An hour later the photos were over and Zoe was circulating through the opulent ballroom of The Plaza Hotel, a glass of champagne in hand. She’d been keeping an eye out for Aaron, because she still wanted to see his face when he realised he didn’t have his phone. During the photos she’d taken the opportunity to remove the phone from her bouquet and put it in her clutch bag. The little luminous screen had glowed accusingly at her; there were eleven missed calls and eight new texts. Clearly Aaron was a very important person. Was it a scorned lover begging him back, or some boring business? Either way, he could surely do without it for an hour or so.

It was easy enough to keep track of him in the crowded ballroom; he was a good two inches taller than any other man there, and even without the height his sense of authority and power had every female eye turning towards him longingly—and Zoe was pretty sure he knew it. He walked with the arrogant ease of someone who had never needed to look far for a date—or a willing bed partner.

Zoe’s mouth twisted downwards. She really disliked this man, and they hadn’t even had a conversation yet. But they surely would; they were seated next to each other at the wedding party’s table. Although, come to think of it, Aaron seemed perfectly capable of ignoring someone seated next to him. He’d texted during a wedding ceremony, after all.

Smiling, she patted her bag. She looked forward to seeing the expression on his face when he realised he didn’t have his phone—and she did.

Aaron Bryant surveyed the crowd with edgy impatience. How long would he have to stay? It was his brother’s wedding, he knew, and he was best man—two compelling reasons to stay till the bitter end. On the other hand, he had a potential disaster brewing with some of his European investments and he knew he needed to keep close tabs on all the interested parties if Bryant Enterprises was going to weather this crisis. Automatically he slid his hand into his pocket where he kept his phone, only to remember with a flash of annoyance and a tiny needling of alarm that it was gone. He’d had it during the wedding, and he was never one to leave his phone anywhere. So where had it gone? A pickpocket on the way to Central Park? It was possible, he supposed, and very frustrating.

People had started moving towards the tables, and with a resigned sigh Aaron decided he’d stay at least through dinner. His phone, thankfully, was backed up on his computer, and he could access everything he needed at the office. It was password-protected, so he didn’t need to worry about information leaks, and as soon as he got to the office he could put a trace on it. Still, he didn’t like being without it. He was never without his phone, and too much was brewing for him not to be in touch with his clients for very long.

He approached the wedding-party table, steeling himself for an interminable hour or two. Millie and Chase were wrapped up in their own world, which he couldn’t really fault, and his relationship with his brother Luke’s fiancée Aurelie was, at best, awkward.

A few months ago he’d tried to intimidate her into leaving Luke, and it hadn’t worked. He’d been trying to protect Luke and, if he were honest, Bryant Enterprises. Aurelie was a washed-up pop star whom the tabloids ridiculed on a daily basis, not someone Aaron had wanted associated with his family. Admittedly, she’d staged something of a comeback in the last year, but relations with both Luke and his fiancée were still rather strained.

He slid into his seat and offered both Luke and Aurelie a tight-lipped smile. He couldn’t manage much more; his mind was buzzing with the stress of work and the half-dozen crises that were poised to explode into true chaos. A woman came to sit next to him and Aaron glanced at her without interest.

Zoe Parker, Millie’s sister and maid of honour. He hadn’t spoken to her last night or this morning, but he supposed he’d have to make some conversation over the meal. She was pretty enough, with wide grey eyes and long, dark hair, although her skinny, sinewy figure wasn’t generally his preference. She glanced at him now, her lips curving in a strangely knowing smile.

‘How are things, Aaron? You don’t mind if I call you Aaron?’

‘Of course not.’ He forced a small smile back. ‘We’re practically family, after all.’

‘Practically family,’ she repeated thoughtfully. ‘That’s right.’ She flicked her long, almost-black hair over her shoulders and gave him another smile. Flirtatious? No—knowing. Like she knew something about him, some secret.

Absurd.

Dismissing her, Aaron turned to the walnut and blue-cheese salad artfully arranged on the plate in front of him. He’d just taken his first bite when he heard a familiar buzz—an incoming text or voicemail. Instinctively he reached into his pocket, only to silently curse. It couldn’t be his phone that was buzzing. He heard the sound again, and saw it was coming from Zoe’s lacy little clutch bag that she’d left by the side of her plate.

He nodded towards it. ‘I think your phone is ringing.’

She glanced at him, eyebrows raised. ‘I didn’t bring my phone.’

Aaron stared at her, completely nonplussed. ‘Well,’ he said, turning back to his salad, ‘something’s buzzing in your bag.’

‘That sounds like an interesting euphemism.’ Aaron didn’t reply, although he felt a surprising little kick of something. Not lust, precisely; interest, perhaps, but no more than a flicker. ‘Anyway,’ she continued, her tone breezy, ‘that’s not my phone.’

There was something about the way she said it, so knowingly, so provocatively, that Aaron turned towards her sharply, suspicion hardening inside him. She smiled with saccharine sweetness, her eyes glinting with mischief.

‘Whose phone is it, then?’ Aaron asked pleasantly, or at least he hoped he sounded pleasant. This woman was starting to seriously annoy him.

Zoe wasn’t able to reply for someone had tapped their fork against their wine glass and, with a round of cheers, Millie and Chase bowed to popular demand and kissed. Aaron turned back to his salad, determined to ignore her.

The phone buzzed again. Zoe made a tsking noise and reached for her bag. ‘Someone gets a lot of messages,’ she said and, opening the little clutch, she took out his mobile.

The expression on Aaron Bryant’s face was, Zoe decided, priceless. His mouth had dropped open and he stared slack-jawed at the sight of his phone in her hand. She glanced at the screen, saw there were now fourteen texts and nine voicemails, and with a shake of her head she slipped it back into her bag.

She glanced back at Aaron and saw he’d recovered his composure. His eyes were narrowed to black slits, his mouth compressed into a very hard line. He looked as if he were carved from marble, hewn from granite—hard and unyielding and, yes, maybe even a little scary. But beautiful too, like a darkly terrifying angel.

Zoe felt her heart give a little tremor and she reached for her bread roll as if she hadn’t a care in the world. ‘Where,’ Aaron asked in a low voice that thrummed through his chest and through Zoe, ‘did you get that phone?’

She swallowed a piece of roll and smiled. ‘Where do you think I got it?’

His eyes blazed dark fire as he glared at her. ‘From my pocket.’

‘Bingo.’

He shook his head slowly. ‘So you’re a thief.’

She tilted her head to one side as if considering his statement, although her heart was beating hard and adrenalin pumped through her. ‘That’s a bit harsh.’

‘You stole my phone.’

‘I prefer to think of it as borrowing.’

‘Borrowing.’

She leaned forward, anger replacing any alarm she’d felt. ‘Yes, borrowing it—for the duration of my sister and your brother’s wedding reception. Because, no matter how much of a bigwig business tycoon you might be, Aaron Bryant, you don’t text during a wedding ceremony. And I don’t want you ruining this day for Millie and Chase.’

He stared at her, colour washing his high cheekbones, his eyes glittering darkly. He was furious, utterly furious, and Zoe felt a little frisson of—fear? Maybe, but something else too. Something like excitement. Smiling, she patted her bag with the still-buzzing phone. Good Lord, he received a lot of calls. ‘You can have it back after Millie and Chase leave for their honeymoon.’

Aaron’s expression turned thunderous and he leaned forward, every taut line of his body radiating tightly leashed anger. ‘I’ll have it back now.’

‘I don’t think so.’

She saw him reach for the bag and quickly she grabbed it and put it in her lap. Aaron arched an incredulous eyebrow.

‘You think that’s going to stop me?’ he murmured, and it sounded almost seductive. Zoe felt a sudden, prickling awareness raise goosebumps all over her body. Before she could make any answer, Aaron slid his hand under the table. Zoe stiffened as she felt his hand slide along her thigh. The man was audacious, she had to give him that. Audacious and fearless.

She felt his fingers slide along her inner thigh, his palm warm through the thin silk of her dress. To her own annoyance and shame she could not keep a very basic and overwhelming desire from flooding through her, turning her insides warm and liquid. She shifted in her seat, and just as Aaron’s hand reached the bag in her lap she slid the phone out of it.

‘Give me that phone, Zoe.’ His hand was clenched in her lap and, even though seduction had to be the last thing on his mind, Zoe could still feel her body’s pulsing awareness of him. All he’d done was touch her leg. She had to get a grip and remember this was about the phone. Nothing else.

She raised her hand above the table, the phone still clutched in it, and slowly shook her head. ‘No.’

Aaron’s lips thinned. ‘I could take it from you by force.’ She had no doubt he could. ‘That would cause a scene.’

‘You think I care?’

No, Zoe realised, she didn’t think he did. Considering his behaviour so far, she didn’t think he cared at all. She imagined him prying the phone from her hand. It would be like taking candy from a baby. She was no match for his strength, and she couldn’t stand the thought of enduring Aaron’s mocking triumph for the rest of the evening.

Impulsively, her gaze locked on Aaron’s, she slid the phone down the front of her dress. he stared back at her and something flared in his eyes that made the awareness inside her pulse harder.

‘That looks a little…strange,’ he remarked, and Zoe glanced down to see her cleavage obscured by a bulky object in the middle of the dress. It did, indeed, look a bit strange.

‘Easily fixed,’ she replied breezily, and with a bit of pushing and pulling of the strapless dress she managed to get the phone to lie flat under the shelf of her breasts. Still a little strange, but not too bad. And totally impossible for Aaron to access.

He sat back in his chair, shook his head slowly. ‘You really are a piece of work.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

‘It wasn’t meant as one.’

‘Even so.’

He chuckled softly, the sound hard and without humour, and leaned forward again. ‘You think,’ he murmured, his voice stealing right inside her, ‘I can’t get that phone out of your dress?’

Zoe glanced at him, tried for haughty amusement. ‘Not easily.’

‘You have no idea what I’m capable of.’

‘Actually, based on your behaviour so far, I think I have a fairly good idea of the level of boorishness you’re willing to sink to,’ she replied. ‘But even you, I believe, would draw the line at mauling the maid of honour in the middle of a wedding reception.’

Aaron stared at her for a few seconds, his gaze flicking over her face, seeming to assess her. His face had turned blank, expressionless, which made Zoe uneasy. She couldn’t read him at all. Then he shrugged and turned back to his meal. ‘Fine,’ he said, and he sounded completely bored, utterly dismissive. ‘Give it back to me in a couple of hours.’

Zoe sat there, the phone hot and a little sweaty against her chest, and felt weirdly deflated. She’d enjoyed sparring with him, she realised. It had been invigorating and, yes, a tiny bit flirtatious. But, based on the way Aaron was now focused completely on his salad, she was now the furthest thing from his thoughts. Well, she thought with a sigh, wriggling a little to make herself a bit more comfortable with a phone inside her dress, at least she’d taught him a lesson.

Aaron knew about patience. It was a lesson he’d learned from childhood, when his father would summon him to his study only to make him wait standing by the door for an hour or more, while he concluded some trivial piece of business.

It was a lesson he’d needed, for it had taken patience to rebuild Bryant Enterprises from the ground up when his father had left it to him fifteen years ago, utterly bankrupt.

It was a lesson he would use now, for he knew it was only a matter of time before he found an opportunity to corner Zoe and get his phone back.

He had to admire her bravado and tenacity, even if the whole exercise annoyed the hell out of him. She was different from most women he knew, utterly uninterested in impressing him. In fact, she seemed to want the opposite: to aggravate him. Well, it was working.

An hour into the festivities Zoe excused herself from the table. Aaron watched her head to the ladies’ room with narrowed eyes. He waited a few seconds before he excused himself and followed her out of the ballroom.

The ladies’ room was one of those ridiculously feminine boudoirs, complete with spindly little chairs and embroidered tissue boxes. Aaron slipped inside and put a finger to his lips when an elderly matron applying some garishly bright coral lipstick stared at him in shock.

‘I want to surprise my girlfriend,’ he whispered, and then mimed getting down on one knee as if in a marriage proposal. The woman’s face suffused with colour to match her mouth and she bobbed her head in understanding before hurrying outside.

He was alone with Zoe.

He heard the toilet flush and stepped back so she couldn’t see him as she came out of the stall. He watched as she moved to the sink and washed her hands, humming under her breath. He took the opportunity to admire her figure, skinny though it was. She had some nice curves, highlighted by how they were encased in tight pink silk. A very nice bottom, as a matter of fact, and long, lean legs. He didn’t usually pay attention to the backside of a woman, but standing behind Zoe he found his gaze riveted—and his body responding in the most elemental way.

Then she looked up, and her eyes widened as she caught sight of him in the mirror just a few feet behind her, lurking like a dark shadow.

‘Hello, Zoe.’

She turned around slowly, drying her hands. ‘This is the ladies’ room, you know,’ she remarked, and to her credit she sounded as light and wry as ever.

‘I know.’

‘What are you doing here?’

He took a step towards her and was gratified to see her eyes widen a little more. She should be afraid of him. Or, if not afraid, then at least a little wary. ‘What do you think I’m doing here? I want my phone.’

She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Sorry, Bryant. You’ll have to wait until the reception is over.’

‘I don’t think so.’

Her lips parted and he saw something flare in her eyes. Fear? No, it was excitement. He felt it himself, a surprising little pulse of anticipation. She was so not his type, and yet in that moment he knew he was quite looking forward to putting his hand down her dress.

‘And how,’ she asked, her voice turning husky, ‘do you think you’re going to get it back?’

‘Quite easily.’ He took another step towards her, so she was pressed against the sink, her head angled up towards him. She didn’t move, didn’t even try to escape him. Was she wondering if he’d dare do it? Or did she want him to? As much as he did, perhaps.

His gaze fastened on hers, and something pulsed and blazed between them. Aaron felt it, felt the very air seem to tauten around them, crackle with the sudden, electric energy they had created. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and slid a few fingers down the bodice of her dress. Her skin was silky and warm, the sides of her breasts brushing his fingers. Zoe gasped aloud. Aaron smiled even as desire arrowed through him. ‘Quite a tight fit.’

‘Quite,’ she managed.

With the tip of his fingers he could just touch his phone, but there was no way he could actually get it. Not without unzipping the dress completely…which was a possibility. Anything felt possible right now.

‘You are outrageous,’ Zoe gasped, and Aaron chuckled softly.

‘I’m not the one who started this, sweetheart.’

‘Yes, you did. When you texted—’

He was stroking the sides of her breasts with his fingers in an attempt to reach the phone and Aaron knew that neither of them was immune. He saw Zoe’s pupils dilate with desire and felt himself harden even more.

He slid his hand lower.

‘You’re not going to get it,’ Zoe said breathlessly, and Aaron arched an eyebrow.

‘One way or another, I’ll get it.’

‘I don’t think so,’ she answered, her tone mocking his perfectly. He almost laughed. His fingertip brushed the phone and then, to his annoyance, the damn thing slid lower so it was resting against her stomach. There was no way he could get it now.

Unless…

‘Don’t you dare,’ Zoe whispered and Aaron smiled.

‘I think this whole encounter is about daring, don’t you?’ He removed his hand from her dress, allowing his fingers to stroke her soft, small breasts on the way up. Zoe stared at him, pupils still dilated, lips parted, her breath coming in little pants.

‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Want to bet?’

And, with his gaze still hard on hers, he put his hand up under her skirt.

Zoe stood rigid, unable to believe Aaron Bryant had just put his hand up her dress. And he’d already put it down her dress. Her whole body felt as if it were on fire from those few, calculated little touches. She was hopeless. Hopelessly attracted to this arrogant ass of a man.

So much so that she didn’t even move as his hand slid up her thigh, his fingers warm and seeking on her bare flesh. His gaze was riveted on hers, and she knew, no matter how angry or determined he was, he felt something for her. She could feel the attraction between them, heavy and thick. His hand slid higher, smoothing along her hip before he finally found the phone with his fingers and tugged it down. And she hadn’t resisted at all, not even the tiniest bit.

‘I can’t believe you,’ she whispered and he smiled.

‘Believe it.’ He slid his hand lower to the juncture of her thighs, the phone in his palm. Zoe’s breath came out in a devastated rush as he pressed his hand against her, the phone still in it, cool against her heated and tender flesh. Sensation sizzled straight through her and she sagged against the counter.

‘You are incredible.’

‘Why, thank you.’ He pressed again and she closed her eyes, feeling utterly exposed and shameless, yet helpless to prevent it.

‘It wasn’t a compliment,’ she managed, and he laughed softly.

‘Considering the response I’m coaxing from you, I rather think it was.’

Zoe opened her eyes, forced herself to straighten. ‘What I really meant is that you’re incorrigible.’

‘True.’ His hand was still between her legs, teasing her, tormenting her. It took all her effort to remain still, not to allow her body to invite his deeper caresses. ‘But then so are you.’ He stared at her for a long moment, and then with one last press of his hand he stepped away. ‘Thanks for my phone,’ he said, and then he was gone.

Aaron stalked from the bathroom, his whole body blazing with unfulfilled desire. He had not expected that to happen, for that skinny, seriously annoying woman to awaken in him such a fierce need. Well, she had, and it was going to be incredibly difficult to focus on work as he needed to.

Swearing under his breath, he found a private alcove in the ballroom and checked his messages and texts. Just as he’d thought, the European market was imploding and his investors were panicking. He spent thirty minutes doing damage control and then he slid his phone back into his pocket.

He stared into space for a few minutes, felt the familiar cold wash of fear sweep through him. He hated these close calls. Hated feeling, as he’d felt for fifteen years, like Bryant Enterprises was about to slip out of his grasp even as it remained the chain that bound and choked him.

How much had those few hours without his phone cost him? It was impossible to measure, yet Aaron knew there was a cost. There always had been, always would be. And with a sudden, cold certainty, he also knew who was going to pay this time.

He strode back into the reception and saw that things were starting to wind down. Chase and Millie were coming out in their going-away clothes for a week’s honeymoon on St Julian’s, the Bryants’ private island in the Caribbean. Zoe stood behind her sister, smiling, although Aaron thought she looked rather wistful, maybe even sad. She hardly seemed like the type to want a ring on her finger, but who knew? Most women wanted one. Wanted the ridiculous fairy tale, the impossible dream.

He waited until Chase and Millie had left and the other guests were starting to trickle away. He said goodbye to Luke and Aurelie, managing a few minutes’ stilted conversation, before he went in search of Zoe.

She was standing by their table, picking some bits of confetti out of her bouquet. Her hair streamed over her shoulders in a dark ribbon, her body lithe and slender, and Aaron remembered just how silky and warm her skin had felt, how her body had helplessly yielded to his.

He strode towards her. She glanced up at him, and he felt her tense, her eyes dark with shadows. ‘What do you want now?’

‘You,’ he said flatly, and her jaw dropped.

‘What—?’

‘I have a limo waiting outside.’

She stared at him in disbelief and Aaron wondered in a detached sort of way if she’d refuse. He’d felt her response earlier, the heat and the strength of it. He was pretty sure she’d felt his own. If she refused, she had more scruples—or at least more self-control—than he’d credited her with.

Wordlessly Zoe tossed her bouquet back on the table. ‘Let’s go,’ she said and, with a smile of triumph curling his mouth, Aaron led her out of the ballroom.

CHAPTER TWO

SHE DIDN’T DO stuff like this—one-night stands, flings with strangers. It was crazy. She was crazy, Zoe thought as she followed Aaron outside into the warm summer air and then straight into the luxurious leather interior of the limo that was waiting by the kerb, just as he’d said.

What on earth had made her agree? She didn’t even like him. But she was incredibly, irresistibly attracted to him. And, Zoe realised with a sudden flash of insight, the fact that she didn’t like him made this whole encounter emotionally safe. Aaron Bryant was no danger to her already battle-worn heart. Even if this whole scenario was way outside her comfort zone.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked as the limo pulled away from the Plaza.

‘My apartment.’

She nodded, felt a little frisson of something close to fear. This was so not her. She might give off that reckless, devil-may-care attitude, but in her relationships she’d been depressingly, boringly conservative. And she’d got hurt time and time again as a result.

Maybe this was the way to go.

‘Nervous?’ Aaron asked, the word mocking, and Zoe just shrugged.

‘Going home with a strange man to his apartment is a little out of the usual for me, no matter what you might think. But, considering how well-known you are, I think I’m pretty safe.’

Aaron stretched his arms out along the seat, his fingers just brushing her shoulder. Zoe resisted the urge to shiver under that thoughtless touch. ‘How do you reckon that?’ he asked.

‘I don’t think,’ Zoe said, ‘you want any bad publicity.’

He frowned, his eyes narrowing, before his wonderfully mobile mouth suddenly curved into a surprising smile. ‘Are you actually threatening me?’

‘Not at all. Just stating facts. And in any case, like you said earlier, we’re practically family. It’s hard to believe you’re related to Chase, but since you are I’ll assume you’re not a complete psycho.’

‘Thanks very much for that vote of confidence,’ Aaron said dryly. He turned to gaze out of the window. ‘Why is it hard to believe I’m related to Chase?’

Zoe shrugged. ‘Mainly because he’s actually nice.’

‘I see.’ He didn’t seem at all offended, more amused. Zoe glanced out of the window at the cars and taxis streaming by in a blur. ‘So where is your apartment, exactly?’

‘We’re here.’

‘Here’ was a luxury high-rise on West End Avenue, and Aaron’s apartment was, unsurprisingly, the penthouse. The lift doors opened right into the living area, and Zoe stepped into a temple of modern design with floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides overlooking the city and the Hudson River.

‘Nice,’ she remarked, taking in the black leather sofas, the chrome-and-glass coffee table, the modern sculpture, and the white faux fur rug. A granite-and-marble kitchen opened onto a dining area with an ebony table that seated twelve. Everything was spotless, empty, barren. The place, Zoe decided, had no soul. Just like the man.

She walked to the window overlooking the Hudson, the inky-black river glimmering with lights. She felt Aaron approach from behind her, and then she shivered as he moved her hair and brushed his lips across the bared nape of her neck.

His hands fastened on her hips and then slid slowly upwards over the silk of her dress to cup her breasts. Zoe shivered again and then, with effort, stepped away.

‘I don’t know what impression you’ve formed of me, but I like a little conversation along with the sex.’ She spoke lightly, even though she felt a tremble deep inside. She’d had plenty of boyfriends, but she’d never done this before, and never with a man like Aaron. Powerful. Overwhelming. A little…frightening.

‘Conversation?’ Aaron repeated, sounding completely nonplussed. ‘What do you want to talk about? The latest film? The weather?’

‘I think you could do better than that,’ she answered tartly. ‘And, actually, what I’d really like to talk about is food.’

Aaron arched one dark eyebrow, unsmiling. ‘Food.’

‘I’m hungry. Starving, actually. I never eat at parties.’

He simply stared and Zoe almost laughed. At least she felt a little easing of the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside her. She doubted Aaron was used to women who did anything more than nibble at the occasional lettuce leaf and take their clothes off on his command. She was determined to be different.

‘I don’t have any food,’ he said after a moment, his gaze still hard and assessing on her. ‘I always order in or eat out.’

‘Perfect,’ Zoe replied breezily. ‘We can order in.’

He still looked nonplussed, frankly incredulous. ‘What do you want to order?’

‘A California roll.’

‘Sushi?’

‘If by sushi you mean the non-raw fish kind, then yes.’ She was inexplicably gratified to see his mouth curve in the tiniest of smiles.

‘If we’re going to order sushi, we’ll do it properly,’ he said and slid his phone out of his pocket.

Zoe smiled. ‘At last you’re putting your phone to good use.’

This woman drove him crazy. In far too many ways. His palms itched to touch her, yet here she was insisting they order sushi, as if they were some couple about to have a quiet night in. He’d almost asked her if she wanted to rent a DVD while they were at it, but then he decided not to risk it. She might take him seriously.

The women he knew—and, more importantly, the women he went to bed with—didn’t behave the way Zoe Parker did, which begged the question why he’d brought her back here in the first place.

He was used to women going along exactly with what he wanted. What he commanded. Hell, everyone did. He didn’t allow for anything else.

And yet here he was, ordering her damn food. Still, he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten much at the reception either, and he was willing to go along with Zoe’s crazy ideas—to a point. Eventually and inevitably she would have to understand and accept who was calling the shots.

He slid his phone back into his pocket. ‘The food should be here in about fifteen minutes.’

A flirty, cat-like smile played around her mouth. ‘So what should we talk about for fifteen minutes?’ she asked, and he could tell from her tone that she was laughing at him, that she knew the thought of making conversation for that long exasperated and annoyed him.

He didn’t want to talk.

‘I have no idea,’ he said shortly, and her smile widened.

‘Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas, don’t worry.’ She walked over to the sofa and stretched out, her legs long and slim in front of her, her arms along the back. ‘Let’s see…We could talk about why you live in such an awful apartment.’

‘Awful apartment?’ he repeated in disbelief and she smiled breezily.

‘I’ve been in morgues with more warmth. Or we could talk about how you don’t get along with anyone in your family, or why you’re so obsessive about work.’ She batted her eyelashes. ‘Are you compensating for something else, do you think?’

‘Or,’ he growled, ‘we could both shut up and get on with what we came here for.’

‘Now, that’s a come-on I haven’t heard before. Really charming. Makes me want to strip naked right now.’

Fury pulsed through him. He’d never met a woman who dished it out so much before. Most women wanted to impress him. He took a step towards her. ‘A few hours ago you were practically melting in a puddle at my feet. I don’t think I have much to worry about there, sweetheart.’

Her eyes flashed silver. ‘Honestly, you are the most arrogant ass of a man I have ever met. I’m amazed there’s enough room in this apartment for you, me and your ego.’

He stared at her, disbelief making his mind go blank. No one talked to him like this. No one. Zoe’s mouth curled into a saccharine smile.

‘I suppose no one has dared to tell you that before?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I think Millie and Chase will be happy together, don’t you?’ Her eyes danced as she posed the question oh, so innocently and Aaron gritted his teeth. As if he wanted to talk about weddings, marriages and happy endings. He didn’t want any of it, at least not for himself.

‘I suppose so,’ he said in a bored voice. ‘I haven’t really given it much thought.’

‘What a surprise.’

‘Why do you want to talk to me, anyway?’ he asked. He hated the way she made him feel as if he’d lost control, and he was determined to get it back—however he could. ‘You obviously don’t like me, or anything about me. So what’s there to chat about, really, Zoe?’ He spread his hands wide, his eyebrows raised in challenge. For a moment she didn’t answer and he felt a surge of triumph. Gotcha.

‘Well,’ she finally said, her mouth curving upwards once more, ‘I always live in hope. No one’s irredeemable, surely? Not even you.’

‘What a compliment.’

‘It wasn’t meant to be one,’ she answered, and he knew she was intentionally parroting what he’d said to her earlier. She eyed him mischievously. ‘But take it as one, if you like.’

‘I’m not interested in anything you say,’ Aaron snapped. ‘Compliments or otherwise. I think we’ve talked enough.’

‘We’re still waiting for the sushi,’ Zoe reminded him and Aaron nearly cursed.

He shouldn’t have ordered the damn sushi. He shouldn’t have gone for any of this, he realised. The moment Zoe had slipped out of his arms and stopped playing by his rules he should have shown her the door. So why hadn’t he?

Because he wanted her too much. And because not having her felt like losing. They’d been locked in a battle from the moment she’d taken his phone, and Aaron knew only one way of assuring sweet, sweet victory.

‘I think we can make good use of the time while we wait,’ he said, his voice deepening to a purr, and with a savage satisfaction he saw awareness—and perhaps alarm—flare in her eyes.

‘I’m sure we could.’ She crossed her legs. ‘So were any of those messages on your phone actually important?’

‘Critical,’ Aaron informed her silkily. He loosened the knot of his ascot and saw how her gaze was drawn to the movement. ‘Absolutely crucial.’

She pursed her lips. ‘Oh, dear.’

‘Considering all the inconvenience you put me to, I think you owe me.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Owe you?’

‘Definitely.’ He shed his tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. ‘And I can think of several ways you can pay me back.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you could.’ Her eyes narrowed as if she wanted to argue, but he saw the rapid rise and fall of her chest and knew she was affected. As affected as he was…Hell, he’d been in a painful state of arousal since she’d first slid into his limo.

The intercom buzzed, and the tension that had been coiling and tautening between them was, for the moment, broken. Aaron strode towards the door and buzzed the delivery man up, conscious of Zoe; she’d risen from the sofa and was wandering around the living room, glancing at a few of the paintings on the walls, her body like a lithe shadow as she moved through the darkened room.

She turned and joined him at the door, and he breathed in the scent of her, some soap or shampoo that smelled like vanilla. The ends of her hair brushed his shoulder. ‘So what kind of sushi did you order, anyway?’

‘The real kind.’ Not that he had any interest in eating anything. The doorbell rang and he dealt with the delivery man before turning back to her. ‘And you have to try some before I give you your California roll.’

‘Oh, do I?’ Her eyes glinted and she looked intrigued, maybe even a little confused. Hell, he was. Why was he playing this game? Why didn’t he toss her the food, tell her to eat and then take her to bed? Even if that did have a touch of the Neanderthal about it, it was still more his style. Yet some part of him actually enjoyed their sparring. It invigorated him, at least and, even if taking her to bed would be the simpler and more expedient option, he wasn’t quite ready to let go of all the rest.

He grabbed some plates and glasses and a bottle of wine from the kitchen and took it all over to the living area. After a second’s pause he put it all on the coffee table and stretched out on the rug. Everything felt awkward, unfamiliar. He didn’t do this. He didn’t socialise with the women he slept with, he didn’t romance them.

Zoe sat down next to him, a willing pupil. ‘So what am I going to try first?’

‘We’ll start gently. Futomaki.’

‘Which is?’

‘Cucumber, bamboo shoots and tuna.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Okay.’

Aaron handed her a roll and took one himself. Then he opened the wine and poured them both glasses. ‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers.’ She took a sip of wine and a small bite of the sushi roll.

‘Well?’

‘It’s okay. I can taste the tuna, though.’

He laughed, the sound strangely rusty. ‘You don’t like fish?’

‘Not particularly.’

‘Well, I admire your willingness to try.’ He bit into his own roll, surprised and discomfited at how he was almost—almost—enjoying himself. Relaxing, even, which was ridiculous. He didn’t do either—enjoyment or relaxation. He worked. He strove. Sometimes he slept.

‘I admire your willingness to try too,’ Zoe said, and Aaron glanced at her sharply.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I sense this is outside of your comfort zone,’ she said, a hint of laughter in her voice. ‘I imagine the women you take to bed go directly there, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘They don’t sit on your rug, drinking wine and eating sushi.’

He stilled, feeling weirdly, terribly exposed and even angry. ‘No, they don’t.’

‘Sorry not to fall in step with your plans.’ She didn’t sound remotely sorry.

‘I can be flexible on occasion.’

‘How encouraging.’

‘Try this one.’ He handed her another sushi roll. Zoe stared at it in distaste.

‘What is this?’

‘Narezushi. Gutted fish in vinegar, pickled for at least six months.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

‘I don’t make jokes.’

‘Ever?’

He considered. ‘Pretty much.’

She put the roll aside, shaking her head, her lips pursed and her eyes glinting. ‘Why, Aaron, I almost feel sorry for you.’

‘Don’t,’ he said roughly, the word a warning.

‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t even think about feeling sorry for me.’ No one did. No one should. He had everything he’d ever wanted, everything anyone wanted. He didn’t need Zoe Parker’s pity.

She laughed softly. ‘Touched a sore spot, did I?’

He saw now that with the wine and the food she was getting over-confident. Presumptuous. Thinking that this meant something, that they were creating some kind of intimate situation here. It was time to start calling the shots, Aaron decided. And to let Zoe know the only kind of intimate he was interested in.

She was annoying him, Zoe knew. Making him angry. Shame, because for a little while there things had almost seemed pleasant. Aaron had almost seemed…normal.

And she liked baiting him. She needed to do it, because the intensity of her attraction—and her emotion—scared her. She didn’t do intense, not anymore. Teasing him defused that, at least a little.

Except now the very air felt thick with tension, with desire. She saw his dark eyes flare darker and he set his plate and glass aside as Zoe braced herself, knowing the pleasant little interlude was over. Aaron Bryant was ready to get down to business.

She met his gaze, determined to stay insouciant, never to let him know how much he affected her. How much power he had over her. ‘Party over?’

‘I wouldn’t say that.’ He reached out one powerful hand and closed it around her wrist, pulling her slowly and inexorably towards him. Zoe didn’t resist. She couldn’t; already she felt that heavy languor steal through her veins, take over her brain. She was just way too attracted to this man. ‘I’d say it’s just beginning.’

Aaron pulled her onto his sprawled thighs, his hands on her hips so she was straddling him. She felt the press of his erection against the juncture of her own thighs and pleasure bolted straight through her. It took all her will-power not to press back, not to admit with her body how much she wanted him. She needed to keep some kind of pride. Some kind of defence.

‘A different kind of party,’ Aaron murmured and slid his hands up along her hips and waist to cup her breasts only briefly and then frame her face. He brought her forward to brush his lips against hers, and distantly Zoe realised this was the first time they’d kissed.

It started gently but within seconds it flamed into something else entirely—something deep, primal and urgent. His tongue slid inside the warmth of her mouth and his hips rocked against hers—and so much for her pride, because she rocked back helplessly, her body taking over, already desperately seeking release.

His hands slid back down to her waist, and then to her thighs, and he edged the dress over her bottom so it was rucked about her waist. She was bare below except for a skimpy thong. He slid his fingers along the silky length of her thigh to the heat of her. ‘No phones here,’ he murmured, and Zoe would have laughed except he was kissing her again. His fingers were working deft magic, and all she could think about was how much she wanted this.

In one easy movement Aaron rolled her onto her back so she was splayed out on the fur rug, her dress still around her waist. Aaron lay poised over her, his cheeks faintly flushed, his eyes gleaming with desire, his breath a little ragged. He looked beautiful, dark and powerful and he stole Zoe’s breath away.

He tugged down the zip of her dress and in just a few seconds it was gone, tossed to the side of the room. Zoe stared up at him, wearing only a strapless bra and matching thong, wondering what Aaron Bryant would do with her now. Willing him to do just about anything.

‘I’m amazed you managed to fit a phone in here at all,’ he said, and ran his hand between her breasts, along her stomach, then dipping once more between her thighs. Zoe arched helplessly against his hand, and Aaron slid her panties off her. The bra followed soon after.

She lay there, naked and supine on the rug, every sense spinning into aching awareness. She supposed, distantly, that she should feel bare, exposed, nervous, but she felt none of that. All she felt was a glorious anticipation, an unbearable readiness. Aaron bent his head to her and his hands, lips and tongue seemed to be everywhere at once, teasing, tasting, tormenting her.

She tangled her hands in his hair, surprised by its softness, for everything else about him was so hard: eyes, mouth, body, attitude. Heart. But his hair was soft and she ran her fingers through it, glorying in it even as she arched and writhed beneath him, as his mouth and hands brought her to the brink of that pleasurable precipice again and again.

And then, with a quick rustle of foil, he slid on a condom and drove inside her in one single stroke. He lay suspended above her, braced on his forearms, his body fully inside hers. For one breathless moment he gazed down at her, his eyes blazing dark fire, and Zoe felt something in her lurch, shift. She saw need and something deeper flare in Aaron’s eyes, and for a second this seemed like more than sex.

Then he started to move and she wrapped her legs around his waist to bring him even closer. The moment became one of raw, primal passion, and then one of endless pleasure.

When it was over Aaron rolled onto his back and Zoe lay there, spent and breathless, her mind spinning for a few glorious minutes before she returned to earth with a dull thud. The party was over, she knew, and she didn’t relish being dismissed now that she’d served her purpose. She was pretty sure that was how Aaron treated his women, at least his one-night stands, of which she was most assuredly one. Surreptitiously she rolled over and reached for her discarded underwear, only to have Aaron stay her arm.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘I need to get going,’ Zoe answered, keeping her voice light. ‘Not that the sushi wasn’t delicious.’

Aaron let out a low rumble of laughter, surprising her. For a man who didn’t joke, he’d still managed to laugh twice this evening, a thought which absurdly pleased her. What did she care if he laughed?

‘Not so fast,’ he said and pulled her towards him. Her body instinctively slid around his, her soft places finding his hard ones, so they fit like two pieces of a puzzle. ‘We need to find my bed.’

She felt a thrill at his gruffly spoken words, a ridiculous, huge thrill. He wanted her to stay? She hesitated, knowing the better, safer thing to do would be to leave. She knew herself, knew her weaknesses. Sex was sex to a man like Aaron, but to her it was something else. No matter what her head dictated, she couldn’t keep her heart from always insisting this was the one, this was love. And already she sensed that she would fall harder and longer for a man like Aaron than any of the other men she’d known. Feeling anything but basic, primal lust for Aaron Bryant bordered on the utterly insane.

‘Well, actually… .’ she began, and that was as far as she got. Aaron was smoothing his hands over her bottom, as if he were touching a rare silk, then his fingers slid between her legs and she gave up the battle she hadn’t really been fighting. ‘You have a bed?’ she managed, and with a throaty chuckle—his third laugh—he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bedroom and his wonderful, king-sized bed.

Hours later Zoe lay in that bed with dawn’s first pale fingers streaking across the city sky and watched Aaron sleep. She was exhausted, totally sated, and as she looked at him she felt a little dart of sorrow arrow inside her. She didn’t regret this night; it had been too amazing for that. But as she looked at his face softened with sleep, his lashes feathering his cheeks and his softly sculpted lips slightly parted, she wished things could be different. That Aaron was a different kind of man.

Don’t, she warned herself. Don’t do it again. Don’t insist you’re in love with a complete ass. She’d only done that about four times before. Millie always teased her about the emotional toe-rags she dated, and Zoe usually laughed it off. After all, it was true. But that didn’t make it hurt less.

Silently she slipped from the bed and went in search of her clothes. The last of the moonlight spilled into the living room, bathing the chrome and glass with a pearly sheen even as the horizon pinkened with the promise of a new day. Zoe dressed quickly and, with one last bittersweet glance towards the bedroom, she left.

Three weeks later Zoe had done her best to forget that incredible night with Aaron Bryant, although she couldn’t keep herself from surreptitiously scanning the headlines of the tabloids and gossip magazines for a glimpse of his name. She saw a photograph of him at a movie premier with a gorgeous B-list actress and felt something inside her tighten, twist. Surely not jealousy? she asked herself. It would be incredibly, criminally stupid to be jealous. Aaron Bryant meant nothing to her, and she obviously meant nothing to him. Their one night, fantastic as it had been, was over.

Resolutely she went to work at The Daisy Café, a funky, independent coffee shop in Greenwich Village where she worked part-time as a barista. She went to the community centre where she worked afternoons as an art therapist, and tried to keep away from the tabloids.

One afternoon in early September she was working at the café when the smell of the coffee beans nearly made her lose her breakfast.

‘I must be coming down with something,’ she told Violet, her co-worker, a young woman of nineteen who had multiple piercings and hair dyed like her name. ‘The smell of coffee is making me sick.’

Violet raised her eyebrows. ‘If I don’t know better, I’d think you were pregnant.’ Zoe just stared at her, all the blood draining from her face, and Violet pursed her lips. ‘Uh-oh.’

As soon as her shift ended Zoe bought a pregnancy test, telling herself she was being ridiculous. Aaron had used protection, after all. She probably just had some kind of stomach flu, but just to be safe…

She took the test in the tiny bathroom of her studio apartment, sitting on the edge of the tub while she watched two pink lines blaze across the little screen.

Pregnant.

She sat there, the test in hand, utterly in shock and completely numb. Yet as that blankness wore off she probed the emotion underneath like a sore tooth or a fresh scar and realised, to her surprise, it wasn’t dismay or fear that she felt. It was almost…excitement. Happiness.

She shook her head, incredulous at her own emotions. A baby. The baby of a man she barely knew, didn’t even like. And yet…a baby. A child, her child, already nestled inside her, starting to grow. She pressed one hand against her still-flat tummy in a kind of dazed incredulity.

She wanted this baby. Despite all the challenges and difficulties of being a single mother on a small salary, she wanted to have this child. She was thirty-one years old, and a happy-ever-after wasn’t likely to be in her future. This was her chance to be a mother, a chance to find her own kind of happiness. And, even though the baby was no more than the size of a bean, it was there. And she wanted to nurture that tiny life, that part of her.

Over the next few days she wished she had someone to talk to, but none of her friends were remotely interested in pregnancy or babies, and ever since Millie had lost her husband and young daughter three years ago Zoe hadn’t felt like she could burden her with her problems—and certainly not this. Children were still a no-go area for Millie.

There was, Zoe knew, at least one person she needed to talk to. Aaron, no matter how hands-off he intended to be—and, frankly, she hoped that was considerable—still needed to know he was going to be a father. Zoe didn’t relish that conversation, but it didn’t appear to be one she was going to have any time soon, for every time she called Bryant Enterprises and asked for Aaron she was put off by a prissy-sounding secretary.

She left message after message with her name and number, but a week went by of her calling every day and he never phoned back. Annoyed, she considered not telling him at all, but she knew she could never keep such a devastating secret. And, in any case, that kind of lie of omission would likely come back and bite her. Which left one other option, she decided grimly.

It didn’t take too much effort to get Aaron’s mobile number from Chase on a rather flimsy pretext of needing sponsors for a charity event she was supposed to be coordinating for the community centre, but when she tried his mobile he didn’t answer that either. Jerk.

Ten days after she’d first taken the test Zoe resorted to a text message, which seemed appropriate, considering how a phone had figured in their first encounter.

Grimly she typed in the four words she’d decided would convey her situation to her baby’s father:

I’m pregnant, you ass.

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