The croupier paused and Cara half expected to hear a drum roll. ‘Mr Kelly wins.’

Mr Kelly wins?

It took a moment for his words to sink in and, when they did, Cara’s head came up and her eyes locked with the man she had only hours before agreed to meet up with for a late-night assignation. His face was hard, the angles seeming to sharpen as he stared at her with retribution burning in the hot depths of his blue gaze.

His expression confused her.

He looked at her as if he knew she was a world-class stuff-up. A fraud. A person who, once you scratched the shiny surface, had no worthy place in the world.

‘Tell me, Miss Chatsfield. Do you deliver on that sex-kitten reputation of yours or are you something else when the glamour is stripped away?’

Aidan stood up straight and tall, lording it over those around him. His eyes narrowed and he swept the table with a contemptuous glance. ‘You can have your precious company, Ellery, and your contaminated money. I don’t want any of it.’

Ellery stared at Aidan like a broken man who still stood facing the hangman’s noose. ‘You’re letting me keep … everything?’

Aidan’s lip curled. ‘Almost.’ His eyes cut to hers and Cara felt pinned by his glacier-blue gaze. ‘Everything except her.’

Step into the opulent glory of the world’s most elite hotel, where clients are the impossibly rich and exceptionally famous.

Whether you’re in America, Australia, Europe or Dubai, our doors will always be open …

Welcome to

Synonymous with style, sensation … and scandal!

For years, the children of Gene Chatsfield—global hotel entrepreneur—have shocked the world’s media with their exploits. But no longer! When Gene appoints a new CEO, Christos Giatrakos, to bring his children into line, little did he know what he was starting.

Christos’ first command scatters the Chatsfields to the furthest reaches of their international holdings—from Las Vegas to Monte Carlo, Sydney to San Francisco … but will they rise to the challenge set by a man who hides dark secrets in his past?

Let the games begin!

Your room has been reserved, so check in to enjoy all the passion and scandal we have to offer.

Ref: 00106875

www.thechatsfield.com

From as far back as she can remember MICHELLE CONDER dreamed of being a writer. She penned the first chapter of a romance novel just out of high school, but it took much study, many (varied) jobs, one ultra-understanding husband and three very patient children before she finally sat down to turn that dream into a reality.

Michelle lives in Australia and, when she isn’t busy plotting, loves to read, ride horses, travel and practise yoga.

Socialite’s Gamble

Michelle Conder

www.thechatsfield.com

MILLS & BOON

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Family Tree

To Ris and Trish. Two great women whose generous advice and unending support buoys me up and makes me smile. Thanks for being part of my writing village!

Table of Contents

Cover

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Family Tree

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

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Readers’ Extras

Discover The Chatsfield

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

BY RIGHTS CARA should have felt like she was on top of the world.

And she had been yesterday when her agent had informed her that she had won the lucrative Demarche cosmetic contract that would take her modelling career in a more serious direction.

On some level Cara still couldn’t believe her agent had pulled it off and she probably wouldn’t relax until the big announcement was made at a glitzy event in London the following Sunday evening. Eight days from now.

It was going to be such a big deal that despite all her experience in the public eye, Cara knew that she would be nervous on the night. Especially when things had a tendency to go wrong for her at peak moments in her life and she had no idea why.

Not that she would let anything get in the way this time. Her agent had worked really hard to paint Cara in the best light possible. To explain that she had changed, that she was no longer the Chatsfield wild child and all-round party girl but a young woman who was revered by others around the world.

Cara secretly thought that had been pushing it a bit but Harriet Harland genuinely believed in her and Cara would not let her down. Especially after so many people had tried to distance themselves from her after that hideous rock video she had mistakenly agreed to appear in last year. Before the censorship board had pulled it, it had come with an R rating, but naturally, it had gone viral before then.

Cara had thought that she would never get a decent job again after that. Certainly that’s what her father had implied.

Which brought her right back to why she couldn’t yet bask in the glow of her big win.

She was late.

Seriously late.

Not entirely her fault because, really, who could have predicted that she’d get stuck on the tarmac at LAX for five hours due to an unexpected electrical storm that had hung over the city like a bad smell.

And by the look of the teeming rain outside she supposed she was lucky the plane had even landed in Vegas and not been rerouted to, say … Uzbekistan!

That would be more in keeping with the day she was having.

Probably she shouldn’t have even detoured from London to LA but when she’d been told that she had to go to Vegas, she’d wanted to stop off and take her agent to lunch. Somehow lunch had turned into a private celebratory party and … well, she wouldn’t waste time regretting it. No one other than her siblings had ever shown her any support in her life and Harriet had said it was important.

‘More important than tonight,’ she grumbled, wanting to kiss the aisle as the line of passengers started to shuffle towards the exit doors.

Poker was hardly noteworthy even if the game she was supposed to hostess later that night at one of her father’s flagship hotels had the largest buy-in of any casino in the western world. It was only a game.

Glancing at the time on her phone she shoved it back into her shoulder bag and strode down the aerobridge.

One hour.

One hour that apparently included a thirty-minute taxi ride from McCarran International to the glittering diamond on the Las Vegas strip—the Chatsfield International.

It had once had the reputation as the best casino in Las Vegas. Her father’s recent appointment of the new CEO—the gorgeous but arrogant Christos Giatrakos—was an attempt to reestablish that. In fact, Christos had been given the task of revamping all the Chatsfield Hotels and thereby restore the family name to its former glory.

Former before her mother had walked out on them all years ago and her father had found the bottle and his next mistress. Now he’d met yet another woman and—surprise, surprise—he had found a new lease on life.

Christos, who took his job far too seriously in Cara’s mind, had deemed that all her siblings had to be involved. Something all of them had resented as much as she did!

Rightly, or wrongly, the family business interested her about as much as moving into a nuclear-waste facility.

And she wasn’t above admitting, at least to herself, that it had hurt when Christos had emailed to ‘inform’ her that he was sending her to Vegas to hostess some important high-rollers’ poker game—supposedly the hottest ticket on the Chatsfield’s gambling calendar—because deep down she knew that he was just trying to get her out of the way so that her siblings could get on with the more serious tasks.

Cara would have liked to have told him to go to hell when he had suggested it but beneath the implicit threat that she’d be cut off from her inheritance, just like her siblings, something had stopped her. There had been a tone to his words that implied that she couldn’t do it. That the ‘wild child’ wasn’t as good as her older siblings. It had raised her hackles and made her want to show him. And her father. Not that her father would say anything if she did a good job. He probably wouldn’t even notice.

No doubt cutting her hair into a cute pageboy bob and dying it pink hadn’t been the smartest thing to do though, and she wondered if her sister, Lucilla, wasn’t right that she’d done it to get back at Christos and his derogatory ‘It’s time you did something worthwhile for the family name, Cara. After all, it paid for your fancy education when you were growing up and provided you with everything your heart desired.’

Cara had really hated him in that moment and had wanted to inform him that actually it hadn’t given her everything her heart had desired. It hadn’t given her two parents who loved her.

But Cara would show him tonight. And next week when the announcement was made about her new modelling contract her father would have to finally acknowledge that not only did she exist, but that she was a force to be reckoned with, as well!

Feeling more empowered she strode into McCarran International with purpose, the bright lights and the sounds of the poker machines in action greeting her, along with the smell of air freshener and polish.

Welcome to Vegas, she thought somewhat grudgingly. Her normal world was far behind her and she felt a bit like Dorothy in Oz, who would give anything to return to her normal existence. She almost glanced around her seeking out the wicked witch but she knew the evil warlords in her life were back in London, miles away. Thank heavens.

She wheeled her Vuitton overnight case behind her and strode through the throng of commuters, ignoring curious eyes that happened to fall her way. Thanks to her name, her modelling career and her tendency to cause a scandal even when she didn’t mean to, her face was well-known.

She sighed. Yes, her life was a goldfish bowl; it always had been, so why was that bothering her lately when before she hadn’t given a toss?

Taking a deep breath to ease the sudden constriction in her throat she told herself that everything would be fine. She was here. And an hour—okay, fifty minutes—was time enough to get to the hotel, shower, dress and brief herself on who would be seated at her father’s esteemed poker table. Something she would already know if the casino hadn’t sent her a corrupted file she’d been unable to open on the plane.

Whatever.

She was good at thinking on her feet. She just had to get her feet and the rest of herself to the hotel. And fast. Tonight was just one of those nights that had to be endured.

No, she corrected herself, not endured so much as conquered.

She gave a faint smile as she took in her skinny arms and legs, her delicate high-heeled gladiator sandals. She wasn’t exactly ‘conqueror’ material. She never had been.

But still, she wouldn’t muck up tonight. Her pride demanded that she didn’t.

Hearing her phone ring, and glad for the divergence, Cara sidestepped a group of tourists and didn’t break stride as she reached into her bag to retrieve it.

Fumbling she glanced down and only just got the impression of a tall, well-dressed man in a hurry, his long legs eating up the space between them, a dark scowl on his square jaw as she sidestepped again and he ran right into her.

He didn’t make a sound but Cara gasped at the impact, her foot twisting alarmingly beneath her. She would have toppled right into him but his reflexes were lightning fast and he gripped her upper arms and held her upright. His hold was hard and firm and she felt the jolt of his touch almost as if she’d had an electric current pass right through her.

Shocked, she stared up at him and for a moment she forgot to breathe. Rich blue eyes stared—no, glared—back at her in a beautifully boned face that could only be described as hard. Angular.

In the blink of an eye she took in his short, dirty-blond hair, straight nose and a firm surly-looking mouth ringed by what looked like a day’s beard growth. It was a beautiful, masculine face that brought to mind a warrior battling it out on the Scottish highlands with nothing but a shield and a powerful sword.

A powerful sword?

Slightly flustered by her startling reaction to a stranger, Cara frowned. ‘Can you please watch where you’re going next time?’

‘Can I …?’ Aidan Kelly narrowed his eyes between thick lashes and stared at the woman in front of him. He’d just been in transit for thirty-three ungodly hours from Australia to get here and he was tired, hungry, aggravated and in a hurry, and this pink-haired waif had the audacity to accuse him of being in the wrong. ‘Lady, I was watching where I was going. You were the one with your head stuck in your bag.’

‘I stepped out of your way and—oh, no!’ She glanced down between them. ‘I think you broke my shoe.’

Aidan made a disgusted noise. ‘I haven’t broken anything.’

Twisting her foot out to the side she ran her hand down her long, slender legs and Aidan’s eyes couldn’t help but follow her movements. He felt an unexpected stirring of lust in his blood and his frown deepened. Had she just done that deliberately to get his attention?

‘Damn,’ she muttered softly. ‘It is broken.’

Aidan rolled his eyes. Not his problem. ‘Next time you might want to look where you’re going.’

She stared at him open-mouthed as if she couldn’t believe him and that made two of them because he couldn’t quite believe her, either.

‘And next time you might remember this is not a racetrack,’ she said prissily, moving her foot gingerly inside her sandals that hugged her slender calves all the way up to her knees. ‘These are my favourite shoes,’ she grouched at him. ‘I’ve had them for years.’

He cast them a disparaging glance. ‘Fascinating. Now excuse me, I need to be somewhere.’

She shook her head as if he completely disgusted her and hobbled over to a nearby seat, the words rude and irresponsible and typical male ringing in his ears.

Aidan’s back straightened. If there was one thing he was, it was responsible, and there was no way this pompous English totty was going to pin the blame for her broken shoe on him.

‘What did you just say?’ His voice was low, the softness of it underlying a lethal menace she would do well to heed in his current frame of mind.

He had important business to take care of at the Chatsfield Casino and every minute he spent with her was a minute he wasn’t focused on his end goal.

Her lower lip trembled as he towered over her and he planted his hands on his hips. ‘And here comes the waterworks,’ he scorned.

She stared at him and he had a moment of wondering where he had seen her face before. Then he discarded the thought. He didn’t know her and he didn’t want to know her.

‘You are really not a nice man, are you?’

He shook his head as if to say lame, very lame and reached into his pocket to withdraw his wallet. ‘Here’s a fifty.’ He held the money out to her. ‘That should cover it.’

She looked at his offering as if he’d just pulled it off the bottom of his shoe. ‘Hardly.’ She lifted her chin and her hair fell back from her face. She was really quite exquisite with her chin jutting out like that. Her lips a strawberry pink, her cheekbones high and her eyes heavily lashed. With mascara, no doubt.

‘These shoes are worth a thousand pounds.’

Aidan blinked, realising that he’d lost his train of thought while he’d been staring at her. Pulling himself together he raked her slender frame and let an insolent curl shape his mouth. ‘I doubt it, honey.’

‘Honey?’

‘Look, lady, I get it. Run into someone and then try to fleece them. Sorry, I’m not that gullible.’

‘Fleece them?’

If possible her eyes widened even more and he refused to let himself be drawn in by her. Refused to glance down at the sexy thrust of her small breasts or those long silken legs showcased to perfection in tiny denim shorts. ‘Look, I don’t know if you’re a broke tourist on the make or a working girl but I don’t like being played for a fool.’

‘A working …’ Her eyes narrowed and he felt pinpricks of heat on his skin as she dragged her eyes down over his lightweight suit and then back up. He saw her shoulders straighten and noticed that a hot flush had risen up along her amazing cheekbones.

Then she rose in front of him like Cleopatra on the throne and for a minute he expected to feel the sharp sting of her small hand connecting with his face. Lucky for her she pulled herself back in time and only stuck her nose up at him.

‘You really are a horrible man.’

Aidan shook his head. He didn’t have time for her games. ‘For all I know the shoe was already broken,’ he said curtly.

‘For all you care, you mean,’ she spat at him. ‘I hope you have an interesting life,’ she said, smiling coldly before grabbing hold of the handle of her suitcase.

If he wasn’t mistaken, Aidan thought, the little witch had just blessed him with a Chinese curse.

About to give her a true piece of his mind and tell her just what he thought of her benign attempts to extort money out of him, he heard his name being decimated by a shrill female voice.

‘Mr Kelly? Oh, Mr Kellllly?’

Aidan turned to find the stewardess who had dogged his every move during the flight from hell bearing down on him like a Hungarian linebacker. ‘Oh, Mr Kelly. I’m so glad I found you.’ She flashed all her teeth at him like a barracuda spying lunch. ‘I have something for you.’

He just had time to see the pink-haired woman roll her eyes heavenward before disappearing into the crowd. Frustrated that he hadn’t had time to deal with her impertinence properly, he glared at the stewardess in front of him. ‘This had better be good.’

As soon as the out-of-breath stewardess had placed her manicured hand against her chest in a move redolent of Scarlett O’Hara, her posture giving the impression that she’d like nothing better than to plaster herself all over the front of the man Cara had nicknamed ‘the cretin jerk,’ she knew it was her cue to disappear. No doubt it was her phone number that she wanted to give him. Or maybe she was about to drag him off to the nearest broom cupboard and put those pearly whites to good use. Cara didn’t care, but she hoped he picked up a nasty disease in the process.

Rude, horrible, loathsome man!

Fuelled by angry frustration and nervous energy at the disappearing time, Cara did what she did best—she retreated from the situation and merged with the noise and bustle of those around her as she hobbled towards the terminal exit with as much dignity as she could muster, thankful that she would never have to see that man’s arrogant face again.

The airport was teeming with people and outside it was raining so hard she was sure it was a monsoon. How was it possible to be raining in LA and Vegas? Wasn’t California supposed to be always sunny? And Sin City was in the middle of the desert. It should be hot, she thought as she stepped through the automatic glass doors and into an icy cold wind that sawed the breath from her lungs. Holy moly, but tonight could freeze the ice off a penguin.

Rubbing her hands over her arms and trying to stop her knees from knocking together with cold she quickly scanned the long line of bedraggled commuters—also underdressed to withstand the arctic blast, and the non-existent taxis that should have been lining the kerb. Why was it that taxi cabs seemed to disappear in every country unused to inclement weather? She’d do anything for the reliability of the black cabs back home right now because she couldn’t be late. She just couldn’t.

Quelling another bout of panic she gritted her teeth and marched back inside, searching for the hire-car desks.

She stopped when she saw them. It seemed a couple of hundred other commuters had already had the same idea. Frustrated she headed back outside and saw the line surge forward as three taxis pulled alongside the kerb and just as swiftly departed with relieved customers inside.

A shiny silver limousine purred up to the sidewalk, water drops clinging to its polished windows and paintwork like tiny pearls and the crowd gazed at it longingly. Oh, what she’d give to have thought ahead and organised one of those. She watched the young driver alight from the car and scan the crowd. Glancing around, she waited to see who had won the lottery and then back at the chauffeur when no one came forward. He had a sign and Cara shifted a little to the right so she could read it.

Mr Kelly, it read in bold print.

‘Mr Kelly? Oh, Mr Kellllly?’ The stewardess’s high-pitched voice filled Cara’s head and she narrowed her gaze. Surely not. Could Mr Kelly be the cretin jerk from inside? And why did his name sound so familiar?

Not that she was truly interested. He was probably just an overinflated film star and the outrageous idea of taking off in his plush Mercedes jumped from outer space and straight into her mind. His warm, plush Mercedes.

Of course she wouldn’t do it, but boy, she’d like to. It would serve him right for his scathing put-down of her before.

Cara looked back through the terminal, half expecting him to swagger towards her with the ‘me Jane you Tarzan’ stewardess. Really, he didn’t deserve that car. Another gust of wind whipped an ice cap off the Arctic Circle and settled it over Vegas.

Even her bones shivered this time.

A nearby child sneezed and started whimpering.

‘It’s not supposed to rain in Vegas,’ a middle-aged woman with two young children huddled under her arms groused good-naturedly.

‘It’s not supposed to be cold, either,’ Cara said.

‘Oh, my, you’re Cara Chatsfield, aren’t you?’

‘Guilty.’ Cara smiled, expecting that the woman would either turn away now in disgust, or bubble over with excitement at having met her.

‘Oh, you poor thing,’ she gushed. ‘I’m sorry to say I read about that awful scandal last year and I just want you to know that you were right to sack that manager of yours.’

It had been her agent that she’d sacked but Cara was so shocked by the woman’s passionate support she was almost stupefied. ‘Well, thank you.’

‘I think it’s awful how people take advantage of others. And you copping all the flak for that video because you’re a woman. I noticed that man in it with you wasn’t mentioned and he wasn’t wearing much more than you.’

‘No.’

‘Sorry, I’m ranting.’ The woman blushed and fussed over one of the children’s hair.

‘No, please.’ Cara smiled. ‘Rant away.’

The woman grinned back. ‘I wish that limousine was waiting for me. Who do you suppose it’s here for? A prince?’

Cara arched a brow. ‘Hardly.’

She looked around. Maybe the cretin jerk really had visited that broom cupboard.

She smiled at the woman as the idea of stealing Mr Kellllly’s limo returned. ‘Maybe it is waiting for us.’

‘I wish,’ the woman said with a sigh.

When one of the younger of the children started sneezing Cara straightened her spine and strolled towards the young limousine driver. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ she said airily. ‘I spotted an old friend.’

‘Ma’am?’

‘You are waiting for me, aren’t you?’

‘Ah, no, ma’am. I’m waiting for a Mr Kelly.’

Cara tilted her head and gave him a smile she’d been told made grown men forget their own names. ‘It was supposed to be Ms Kelly, but never mind. No harm done.’

‘And you’re … Ms Kelly?’

‘No, I’m not.’ Cara smiled patiently. ‘I’m travelling incognito. I have to do that after, well, you know … the video clip last year.’

The young driver blushed as Cara had expected he would and looked flustered. ‘Oh, I don’t—’

She waved her hand dismissively. ‘Please, I’d rather not talk about it. Now, I hope you don’t mind but I promised to give my friends a lift. It’s too cold for them to wait for a taxi.’

‘No, no.’ He scampered to open the passenger door for her. ‘Not at all, Miss Chats—I mean, Ms Kelly.’

Feeling just the teensiest bit guilty and determined to ignore it, Cara beckoned to the woman and her children. ‘It seems the limo was waiting for me after all. Would you like a lift?’

‘Oh, wow. Really?’

‘Of course, but … we should hurry.’

The guilty feeling persisted for quite a way to the hotel and probably if she could relive that moment she might act differently, but it was too late now and her awed passengers had been so relieved and grateful it had been worth it.

Thankfully she’d never have to see Mr Kelly again, but maybe she’d try and find out where he was staying and send him an anonymous bottle of champagne to thank him for the ride.

She stifled an impish grin at the thought. He was really going to be livid when he realised that his car had been commandeered by someone else. In a way, she almost wished she was able to see his face.

She hoped it turned purple.

CHAPTER TWO

AIDAN SAW A flash of pink hair and one long slim leg before the limousine pulled away from the kerb, its tail-lights blinking in the gloomy night.

Amazing. The woman he had thought a cheap tourist at best could afford a limousine. Or perhaps she’d had a rich lover waiting outside.

With legs like hers it was probably the more likely scenario. Long and golden brown. He had no doubt they’d be smooth to the touch and his hand would have no trouble sliding all the way up to those tiny shorts. He imagined her breathless little gasp as he slid one finger inside the leg of those shorts and teased— What the …?

He pulled himself up short as he realised he was turning himself on.

Rubbing at the space between his eyes he shook his head. He must be going mad to fantasise about a woman like that.

A woman who wore clothes that revealed more than they hid. Well, okay, her purple blouse had been loose and only hinted at the small, high breasts beneath, but it had been designed to make a man think about exactly what they would look like underneath. And those shoes? If they hadn’t been created with sex in mind, he didn’t know what was.

Oh, she had been advertising, all right, and although his body had perked up with interest at her wares he’d had no intention of taking the bait. He was in Vegas for one night and one purpose and it had nothing to do with bedding a woman.

He buttoned his jacket against the cold and glanced around for his limousine. His HR manager had assured him that it would be waiting at the kerb as soon as he exited the main terminal and he was a man who knew how to do his job.

Noticing a white sign on the damp pavement he walked closer and saw that it had his name printed on it.

His gaze narrowed. Why would a piece of cardboard with—Son of a … She’d stolen his limousine!

Aidan stared at the section of road the large car had long disappeared down and knew his mouth was hanging open.

He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his emails to get to the one that would hold the information about which car company his HR manager had used. Unfortunately he already had over one hundred new emails and he didn’t have the patience to find it.

Gritting his teeth and silently imagining every way he could slowly dismember the lanky pink-haired waif he would hunt down as soon as he’d completed his business in Vegas, he raised his eyes to the darkening sky.

There were too many grey clouds for him to locate the moon but he was sure if he could it would be full. Usually, he wasn’t a superstitious person but how else to explain a day that had started out great and gone downhill at a rate of knots. First his PA had quit, claiming he was too hard a taskmaster. Then his trip to Sydney airport had been plagued by an impromptu demonstration against the live export of animals—a worthy cause he might have contributed coin to had they not held him up for so long—only to arrive at the airport to find his plane had mechanical issues and had been grounded. The only available flight out of Sydney for Vegas had one seat available.

And it hadn’t been first class.

Not that he was a snob. Far from it. He’d grown up in a low- to middle-class home and didn’t start travelling first class until he had turned his father’s business around in his early twenties.

No, it wasn’t coach per se that had bothered him but being squashed into a seat his tall frame didn’t easily accommodate and trying to work during what should have been a sixteen-hour flight while others slept or watched movies. Then there had been the small child who kept poking its fingers through the back of the seat and dislodging his paperwork on the tiny tray they called a table.

He sighed wearily. His currently dishevelled state wasn’t exactly the way he had planned to greet his nemesis, Martin Ellery, but okay, he’d make it work. A part of him had been considering some sort of revenge against this man for fourteen years and it had become all-consuming twelve months ago when his father had passed away.

Tonight it would happen, and no matter how many obstacles got in his way Aidan wouldn’t countenance failure. Had, in fact, never failed at anything in his life. And he couldn’t fail at this because he had promised his father on his deathbed that he would get back at the man who had ruined his life. And a promise was a promise. Something meant to be honoured.

Unfortunately the Chatsfield casino house rules were very specific on this night that would pit some of the best and wealthiest gamblers against one another. If you missed the start of play you couldn’t join the game.

He checked his watch and his agitation grew.

Just when he was contemplating the possibility of hiring a helicopter a cavalcade of taxis came into view and the line of weary commuters cheered.

A crumpled but chic businesswoman paused before getting into the first cab. She looked at him.

Aidan had seen that look on women’s faces plenty of times before and he’d already noticed this one eyeing him off for the past five minutes.

‘Would you like to share?’ she asked.

The offer was for more than a taxicab and they both knew it. But he could allay her of that expectation on the way into town.

‘Sure.’

Thirty-nine minutes later Aidan was clean-shaven, dressed in a black suit and black dress shirt—no tie because he hated them—and paused in the doorway to the Chatsfield Hotel’s prestigious Mahogany Room.

It was opulent, but he already knew that. Large crystal chandeliers sparkled off polished mahogany wood panelling and a curved bar with fancy velvet stools lined the far wall. The room was already half full and scented with the faint traces of Cuban cigar smoke and the sweet scent of too many perfumes mixed together. It wasn’t his usual world, but looking at him now—carelessly poised for action—no one would guess he was about to destroy another man’s livelihood.

Ice clinked in a glass and Aidan surveyed the elegant crowd. A few of the men he would play against were already seated at the main table. Martin Ellery wasn’t one of them. Aidan glanced around the room. Where was the slimy bastard anyway?

And then he saw him and his heart skipped a beat.

Because he wasn’t alone. He was standing to the side of the bar with none other than the pink-haired waif who had stolen his limousine!

Aidan’s eyes swept over her. She looked surprisingly classy in a fitted black dress that skimmed her light curves to midthigh. She had on stockings—or would they be those high-topped ones that clung to her thighs and didn’t require a garter belt—what were they called? Stay-ups?—and another pair of skyscraper heels. It took his brain about point four seconds to jump to him seated on a king-size bed with her standing before him in just those stockings and heels.

Damn.

To his mind there was only one reason a woman was in the high-rollers’ room of a casino. She was either looking to pick up a rich man, or she already had. That might be a gross generalisation he was sure the women’s libbers would want to slice him in half for but he didn’t care.

He had been a wealthy man for long enough to know the score. And this woman—this car thief—was on the make, any moron could see that.

He recalled the uppity curse she had delivered at the airport as sweetly as if she had been blessing his firstborn child. He nearly smiled. Then Ellery leaned closer to her.

Had Ellery already laid claim to her?

It wouldn’t surprise him. His last wife hadn’t been dead eighteen months but even before she’d died it had been rumoured he’d moved on. Loyalty was not a word Martin Ellery knew the meaning of, or cared about.

His and Ellery’s paths hadn’t crossed for about that long and Aidan doubted they’d have much to say to each other tonight. Ellery would know better than to try. He knew Aidan loathed him.

And for some reason he loathed the way the older man kept stroking the back of his car thief’s hand in a brief caress that told any other male watching that she was unavailable.

A sick feeling rose up in his stomach. No doubt if she was with Ellery he’d brought her to the game for good luck. Unfortunately it would take more than a statuesque model type to bring him luck tonight.

His car thief stepped back and gave Ellery a flirtatious smile and Aidan was once again caught off guard by a powerful bolt of sexual awareness so hot it burned through his bloodstream. Watching her closely, he couldn’t figure out what exactly it was about her that drew him so intensely and he was mildly irritated by his reaction. Yes, she had a certain feline grace about her. A certain leggy beauty, but the girl had run off with his hire car and only a woman with no morals, or an over-exaggerated sense of entitlement, would do something like that.

Neither type appealed to him.

‘Can I get you a drink, sir?’

Aidan turned his head as a waitress stopped beside him.

‘No. I’m here to play poker.’ He noticed that Ellery had moved to the main table and the pink-haired car thief with the kissable mouth was now alone.

He wondered what she’d do when she spotted him.

Fortunately he didn’t have to wait long to find out. As if sensing his perusal she glanced up and around. He counted to six before her gaze collided with his. Keeping his expression intentionally bland he watched her eyes widen like Bambi facing down a pack of hungry mountain lions.

Oh, God!

He’d followed her.

Cara couldn’t believe it. And he’d gotten into the Mahogany Room which was invitation-only. Her heart raced at the sight of him. Did he know what she had done? That she had borrowed his car? But of course he must. Why else would he be here?

Everyone else in the room seemed to fade away as he continued to stare at her and Cara was aware of nothing beyond the beating of her own heart. And his eyes.

Standing just inside the doorway he was at once invisible and totally conspicuous. His aura alone dominated the busy room. Which shouldn’t have been possible in a place full of the rich and famous. Still, he did and she wasn’t the only woman who had noticed him. She could tell by the low murmur of appreciation by the women on her right that he was being favourably sized up as a potential catch.

And Cara had to get rid of him. Quickly, before the big game started and before he caused a scene that would get back to Christos.

Deciding that the best course of action was the direct one, she tried to still the jittery feeling in her legs and walked towards him.

The room felt like it had just tripled in length and she fervently hoped that he didn’t know that she had been the one who had taken his car.

Would the hire-car company have told him already?

Blast her impulsive decision to colour her hair so brightly. For once she’d be happy to be her normal boring self because a girl with muddy-brown hair would have been so much harder to locate.

But what if he wasn’t looking for her about the car? What if he still thought she was a working girl he’d decided to purchase for the night? A buzz went through her body at the possibility and she was horrified to find that despite everything she was actually totally attracted to him.

At some point she hoped that she would be able to laugh at the day she’d just had. Some point in the very distant future. Right now, though, she would forget all about her unhelpful hormones and the way his eyes shone like brilliant sapphires against his olive skin and black shirt.

Of course she felt sick the closer she came, her stomach clenching and unclenching like a giant-size fist, and when his gaze swept over her body her confidence completely deserted her.

She stopped directly in front of him but with enough room between them to fit at least two buses. ‘I’m sorry,’ she began a little breathlessly, ‘but this room is invitation only.’

His level gaze raked her face and then he smiled. ‘Ah, the woman whose shoe I broke.’

Cara’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of his rich, deep voice. ‘Well, you didn’t break it exactly.’ She let out a nervous laugh. ‘It was an accident. And you were right. I should have been paying more attention to where I was going.’

‘Generous of you considering it was I who ran into you,’ he said pleasantly. Too pleasantly.

He knows about the car, she thought a little desperately, her eyes searching his. She felt it with every guilty bone in her body.

Hoping her face wasn’t flushed even though she felt like it was pressed against a heating pad she told herself to calm down. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe it was her own sense of guilt making her feel paranoid. ‘Please, don’t mention it again.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Now, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to—’

She stopped speaking and stared up at his bemused expression.

Mr Kelly. Mr Kellllly.

Aidan Kelly?

Like one of the poker machines downstairs that had just hit the jackpot Cara’s brain lit up with where she had seen this man’s face before. Unfortunately he wasn’t some matinee idol; he was the Aidan Kelly of KMG—Kelly Media Group. The founder of some huge network TV station in Australia that had expanded to dominate the US entertainment industry and recently had something to do with British TV, as well. She couldn’t remember what, but she did remember he was as rich as they came and his influence was global. He was also rude and full of himself but … She swallowed heavily. ‘You have an invitation.’ Her voice came out as little more than a squeak and his smile grew.

‘Why else would I be here?’ he asked softly.

No reason, Cara thought wildly, no reason at all. No reason other than to play poker at her table.

She groaned inwardly. The night was ruined. She was dead. He would complain to Christos and then … She had to apologise. Had to admit to her desperate actions at the airport. Admit how late she had been, how desperate, how—

No, she wouldn’t let herself panic and ruin everything. Because what if he didn’t know and she admitted her mistake and made everything ten times worse. No, she would do what her brother Franco had taught her to do in situations like this and play the dead bat—an old cricketing term. Franco would be impressed that she had even remembered.

As plans went it wasn’t the greatest, but it would have to do until she came up with something better.

‘Well then, Mr …’

She let the silence fill between them as she waited for him to provide his name. His mouth kicked up at one corner. ‘Kelly. Aidan Kelly.’

Bond, James Bond had nothing on this man, she thought helplessly.

‘Well, I apologise for the misunderstanding, Mr Kelly, and am pleased to welcome you to the Mahogany Room. My name is Cara Chatsfield and—’

‘I thought I recognised you. Apart from the shoes, of course.’

Cara smiled and her lips felt like they were about to crack. ‘Yes, well. As I was saying, I’m the hostess for the game this evening so if you would like to follow me we’ll get underway.’

He fell into step beside her and Cara slowly released a pent-up breath. Maybe, just maybe, she was going to get away with this.

‘I apologise for being late,’ he said easily. ‘I was …’ Cara glanced up at him when he hesitated. His smile widened and her pulse raced. ‘Delayed at the airport.’

Oh, God. ‘Nothing drastic, I hope?’ she said a little too breathlessly.

‘No.’ He shrugged. ‘Nothing I can’t handle, at least.’ His smile turned lupine and Cara felt dizzy.

She knew her actions in taking his hire car were far from admirable and there was no use pretending she had done it because of a couple of small children. Yes, she had loved being able to get them in out of the cold, but really she’d been beyond desperate and she’d been smarting from his condescending attitude towards her.

The need to admit to what she had done made her stomach feel like it was full of battery acid, but something held her back.

She did plan to apologise. To explain that she had been stressed, upset … a little put off by his gruff manner. None of that was an excuse but … it had happened and she would deal with it. She would pull herself out of yet another mess of her own making. The big question was, when would she learn to stop reacting when someone formed a low opinion of her?

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow she would go to him and apologise. After tonight was over.

‘Yes, it was terribly busy, wasn’t it?’ she said briskly.

Having made her mind up to put off the inevitable, the only option left open to her was to keep pretending that everything was completely as it should be.

Feeling marginally better when he didn’t make another comment, she showed him to his seat on the raised circular dais that held the main table and plastered a serene smile on her face. When he handed her his jacket she reached for it, only to find it suspended between both their hands. The wonderful scent of spice and earthy man rose between them and when he didn’t immediately release the jacket she glanced up. His face was closer than she expected, his blue eyes deep pools of lethal sensuality. The heating pad that had attached itself to her face increased a few more degrees until her cheeks stung with it.

‘Oh, and, Miss Chatsfield?’

She blinked, unable to do anything but stare. ‘If you wouldn’t mind getting the phone number of the local police for me. I have an incident to report and I didn’t have time to do it before.’

Oh, God. This was it. She would once again be confirmed as the airheaded younger sister of the Chatsfield family. The naughty girl. The one who shouldn’t have even been there.

And she had no one else to blame but herself.

‘Incident?’ she said weakly, wondering if she threw herself at him and begged for mercy if he would listen. Then she remembered his icy disdain and arrogance at the airport.

‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ he said, finally letting go of the jacket to take his seat.

CHAPTER THREE

AIDAN LEANED BACK in the velvet-lined chair at the main gaming table and hooked his arm over the back.

The suspense must be killing her, he thought, shocked to find that he was enjoying himself. He’d almost whistled a merry tune when she’d nearly fainted dead away in front of him after he’d mentioned the police.

He had no intention of calling them, of course, but feeling her worried eyes on him all evening would be punishment enough.

Or would have been if those tingling little glances didn’t have the unexpected result of making him totally aware of her, as well.

It was unconscionable, really, to have his attention so divided when he needed to focus the most.

But okay, so far, the game was going according to plan. Ellery was anxious enough to make some rash plays, but not enough to make him quit. Aidan knew the old bastard loved nothing more than to look good in front of his compatriots and would want to finish the game on a high.

Aidan’s clear-eyed gaze fell on him now, the older man’s attention once again firmly wedged somewhere in the vicinity of Cara Chatsfield’s cleavage.

He told himself he was glad Ellery had been as distracted by her as many of the other men at the table because it made his job that much easier.

Still, he felt his jaw knot as he watched her smile and work the table, her long-limbed sensuality and graceful movements promising hours of untold delights.

She was very practiced for one so young. And very comfortable having older men paw her. Or was she? Now and then Aidan was sure he’d caught a hint of uncertainty in her expression. A hint that she wasn’t enjoying herself half as much as she pretended.

Yeah, he mocked himself, she’s a real woman of substance.

She played them. Some knew it and played along, hoping to get her into the sack anyway, but some didn’t and they were all but salivating. Aidan wondered if she was just biding her time. Waiting to see which one of them ended up on top before making her move. It would match his experience of women.

So why then, he asked himself not for the first time, did he find her so damned attractive?

An oil-rich sheikh broke into his unwanted musings by calling a time-out to use the bathroom. The croupier gave them fifteen minutes and all the men got up to stretch. Aidan didn’t. He could sit here all night if it meant destroying Martin Ellery. And he was more than halfway there.

His prowess, he knew, had surprised Ellery because Aidan wasn’t by nature a gambler. He’d always been too conservative. Like his father. But he knew poker was Ellery’s weakness and so Aidan had painstakingly learned the game. Learned to be good at it. His natural tendency to hide his emotions helped. Another trait he shared with his father.

His now-dead father, thanks to Martin Ellery’s criminal machinations fourteen years ago that had broken his father’s spirit. And now Aidan would break his. He would snap it in half. He would systematically destroy his pride, his reputation, his confidence … Hell, he wanted Ellery to lose his very reason for living. No man deserved it more.

And Ellery knew he was on the ropes; his dwindling stack of chips signified his run of rash calls and bad bluffs was coming to an end. A smarter man would have got up and walked away by now. Ellery’s ego would keep him at the table. Aidan knew it and he counted on it.

Stretching his legs out in front of him he signalled for another glass of iced tea. He hated the stuff, but to the other players it looked like whisky and it put them at ease. Made him look like a serious player.

Absently he noticed that Ellery had crossed the room and was holding Cara Chatsfield’s arm and once again, his gut tightened. The man had been pawing her all night and by the sound of Cara’s husky laugh she didn’t mind.

So hell, why should he?

It wasn’t like she was some naive little nobody. This was a woman who would go to the opening of an envelope. And for sure he had been wrong about the hint of vulnerability he’d noticed earlier. Maybe he’d been seeing something he wanted to see in her.

And why, he asked himself, would he want this woman to be anything other than what she was?

A vacuous bimbo. He let his eyes wander up her creamy throat to her full mouth and slanted emerald-green eyes ringed with black kohl. They had to be as fake as her hair. Though as to the latter he would admit that the pink gamin hairdo made her look like an erotic pixie. A very tall erotic pixie.

Just then she leaned closer to Ellery to hear whatever dribble was coming out of the swine’s mouth and he hated the dazzling smile on her face as she led him from the room. It was open and engaging and transformed her from beautiful to the kind of woman men went to war over.

And where the hell were they going now? Ellery’s suite? The break was only fifteen minutes. Surely Ellery would want to savour her if he got that chance.

Annoyed with the direction of his thoughts, Aidan settled more deeply into his chair and absently watched the glittering crowd. There were only two ways to make it into this room. Money or promise. The men usually had the former, the women the latter. It was the lay of the land. But not usually his land. Aidan usually worked, worked out and slept. In that order. Occasionally he dated and even more occasionally he joined members of his executive team for a drink. But since the death of his father last year, he’d been driven by a deep, yearning restlessness. A restlessness that he would finally put to bed after he crushed Martin Ellery and took everything that he held dear—his company and his self-worth.

Frowning as his gaze lingered on the private doorway Ellery and Cara had disappeared through, he tried to tell himself that the Chatsfield socialite was not his problem. That it was not his job to protect her if she was too stupid to see the man for what he was.

Aidan had made it a point years ago never to become emotionally involved in any issue, and really, Cara Chatsfield did not seem like the kind of woman who needed protecting from anyone but herself.

So did he care about whether or not the old man had his hands inside her dress? If he had his mouth on hers? If he was kissing his way down her creamy throat—

Hell.

‘Where does that door lead?’ he snarled.

The startled waitress he’d just accosted stared up at him. ‘The High Stakes bar and balcony that overlooks the Strip. But both are closed tonight, sir.’

Aidan grunted and set off. If anyone was going to touch that creamy throat it would be him and it wouldn’t be with his damned mouth.

Cara dodged Martin Ellery’s wandering hands yet again and sighed. She’d believed him when he’d said he wanted to see the spectacular view from the highly exclusive, but private, Chatsfield bar—the High Stakes—but even she wasn’t usually so gullible. Tonight the bar was closed as all eyes were supposed to be on the casino tables. The quietness of the dark-shadowed open-air bar was somehow more deafening than inside the casino.

Earlier she had felt sorry for Ellery when he’d told her how his first wife had lost their baby in a late miscarriage and how that girl would now be about Cara’s age. She wasn’t sure of the truth of his story anymore, but it didn’t matter because it was clear that all those light touches to her arm and the back of her hand had not had a fatherly intention behind them at all. Somehow, if she hadn’t been so worried about Aidan Kelly, she might have picked that up earlier and not found herself alone with him as she was now.

The volcano at the Mirage erupted behind her to the muted oohs and ahhs of the tourists far below, and Cara thought she might erupt, too, if this night didn’t end soon.

‘I hope you like the view and will come back another time to enjoy the bar when it is open,’ she demurred politely, straightening away from the edge of the balcony. ‘But now I really have to return to my duties.’

Before the fake smile on her lips had dimmed Ellery grabbed her forearm. ‘You know I didn’t come out here to look at the view, Cara.’ He stepped closer to her and somehow seemed bigger than before. ‘Come to my room later on. I know you want to.’

He knew she wanted to?

Cara hoped her disgusted outrage wasn’t blaringly obvious as she stared in stupefied silence at him. He might still be considered an attractive man to some women but what on earth had she done to give him the impression that he was attractive to her and, more importantly, how was she going to extricate herself from this situation without upsetting him so much he caused a scene that would get back to Christos?

Feeling as if her mind was a filing cabinet she was riffling through for just the right way to put him off she nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt his fleshy fingers dig into her hipbones, his body trapping hers against the cold metal railing.

‘Mr Ellery!’ She put her hands up between them. ‘I’m seeing someone.’

His eyes narrowed but he didn’t move back. ‘Who?’

Who? Who? God, did the man not know how to say die?

She glanced desperately towards the main casino doors, hoping like hell someone would come through them and rescue her when he cursed violently, the glow of the fake volcano’s erupting flames throwing horrible reddish streaks across his overly tanned features.

‘Don’t tell me it’s Kelly.’

It took Cara a moment to realise he wasn’t referring to another woman but Aidan Kelly. She paused, her mind spinning. It was clear by the men’s interaction—or lack of—at the table that they didn’t like each other. At times she’d been sure she’d noticed flashes of almost fear cross Martin Ellery’s face when Aidan had won another round. Would it hurt to let him think that she was secretly dating Aidan Kelly? It might mean that he left her alone for the rest of the night. ‘A lady never tells,’ she murmured, knowing that he would take that as confirmation of his assumption.

‘Kelly’s a woman hater. Mark my words. He’ll break your tender heart, darlin’, and bury it along with every other woman’s in Australia.’

Considering she had no intention of giving Aidan Kelly the time of day after this horrible evening was over she wasn’t at all concerned about her heart—tender or otherwise.

Unbidden, a picture of Aidan Kelly’s handsome face came into her mind. When she’d first locked eyes with him at the airport she’d felt as if her heart had stopped beating. As if the ground had moved beneath her feet. Which of course it had because her shoe had been broken, but to her tragically romantic way of thinking he had looked like Prince Charming himself.

He wasn’t. She’d known that as soon as he’d growled at her, but it hadn’t stopped her from wanting to go out with him. To do more than that, she reluctantly admitted. She had looked at him with the same stars in her eyes that the stewardess had but he had only thought the worst of her and had ignored her ever since. Well, not exactly ignored her. She’d caught him watching her from time to time during the game and it had made her immediately aware of her body in a way that was uncomfortably hot.

And speaking of uncomfortable it was time to stop Martin Ellery’s fingers from digging into her waist as if he had a right to have them there. Pressing down on his arms she forced her lips into a smile. ‘Look, Mr Ellery—’

‘Hope I’m not interrupting anything.’

At the sound of Aidan Kelly’s lazy drawl, Martin Ellery released her and shoved her to the side. Cara sighed with relief.

‘Well, look who’s come to call,’ Ellery sneered. ‘Lover boy himself.’

Cara made a small strangled noise in the back of her throat she hoped neither man heard. The last thing she needed was for Aidan Kelly to find out what she had let Martin Ellery believe.

And what was it about this man that brought out the worst in her? Or was there a blue moon tonight? Was she going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight?

‘You’re the one with the moves, old man.’

Cara shivered. The cooler winds brought on by the earlier monsoon had nothing on Aidan Kelly.

‘What do you want, Kelly?’ Ellery demanded.

‘Fresh air,’ Aidan said, casually strolling closer. ‘Seems I might be in the wrong place.’

‘That’s because the bar’s closed,’ the older man sneered.

‘Doesn’t look that way to me.’

Ellery’s eyes narrowed. ‘I have to say it was a surprise to see you here tonight.’

Aidan propped himself against the polished balustrading, his lazy gaze taking in the sparkling spectacle of the Strip below. ‘Was it?’

The air fairly vibrated with tension but Aidan Kelly, Cara noted, was better at hiding it than his opponent.

Ellery widened his stance. ‘You’ve bitten off more than you can chew taking me on, son.’

With just the barest turn of his head, Aidan’s eyes had the arrogant Martin Ellery pinned to the spot like a wrestler on a gym mat. ‘Don’t ever call me “son” again,’ he warned quietly.

‘Oh, stop with the intimidation tactics,’ Ellery blustered. ‘Better men than you have tried to best me before and they’ve all failed.’

Aidan smiled, more a baring of his teeth. ‘I think you’re being a bit paranoid, old man. I came here to play poker. Like you.’

Ellery scoffed. ‘Well, enjoy your winning streak. It won’t last.’

‘They never do,’ Aidan drawled as if he felt sorry for the fact.

Cara swallowed. He was a formidable adversary and instinctively she knew that to go up against him would be dangerous. Not that she was intending to if she could avoid it. She hated conflict, much preferring to pull a pillow over her head and hide than have an out-and-out stoush with someone.

Cowardly of her, perhaps, but between the desire to find out how his beautiful mouth would feel on hers and the urge to run for her life, Cara would choose the latter any time. Because, she suspected, if she ever did kiss Aidan Kelly, she’d come out of the experience changed for ever.

Oh, but now that her mind had wandered down that particular track it was hard to pull it back. She wondered what he would do if she asked him to just stand still while she kissed him and then forget it had ever happened.

And where exactly did you leave your brain tonight, you idiot girl? she berated herself. Because it’s certainly not inside your sorry head.

As if reading her thoughts, Aidan cut his gaze to hers and then let it drop to her lips. They tingled and she felt the strongest urge to part them.

Suddenly she felt very much like the meat in an overcooked sandwich as she stood between the two men.

‘Maybe it would be best if we all returned indoors,’ she said, knowing it was her job to dispel the sudden hostility that emanated between them.

Unfortunately neither one of them paid her any attention.

‘You’re out of your depth, boy. Just like your father.’

Cara felt the bite in the air and sucked in a quick breath. She had no idea what the trouble was between the two men but Martin Ellery had just raised the bar if the sudden tension in the man behind her was anything to go by.

Slowly turning around Cara half expected Aidan to have a knife at the ready but instead he smiled benignly at the man who had clearly tried to insult him. Watching him she wondered if she’d imagined the tension she had, moments ago, felt pulsing out of him. Perhaps it had just been her own.

‘Gentlemen—’

‘You want to be careful, Kelly.’ Ellery surprised her by putting his hand back on her waist. ‘You might lose more than you bargained for.’

Oh, no. Cara stiffened in mortification at the thought of what Ellery was about to reveal.

‘Stop worrying so much, Martin,’ Aidan said amiably. ‘You’re starting to sound paranoid.’

Ellery’s hand shook slightly before it tightened on her and Cara did a quick sidestep. If they wanted to butt heads with each other, they didn’t need her around to watch.

Before she could make her escape, though, Ellery blocked her way. ‘See you at the table, Kelly.’

‘I look forward to it,’ Aidan drawled.

Ellery glared at him on his way past and completely ignored Cara, leaving her standing on the balcony in a pool of coloured lights with a man who threw off enough testosterone to power the Strip for a year at least.

‘So, that was interesting?’ she murmured in an attempt to fill the awkward silence.

‘Only if you like dirty old men.’

Okay …

‘I don’t know what the problem is between you, but … maybe you should go easy on Mr Ellery,’ Cara felt compelled to say softly. ‘I think he’s really scared of you.’

Aidan Kelly didn’t move a muscle. ‘He should be.’

And so should I, she thought a little desperately.

‘Do you like dirty old men, Miss Chatsfield?’ he asked mockingly.

Try as she might Cara couldn’t stop her eyes from taking him in. With his sleeves rolled to his elbows and his formidable shoulders he was possibly the most virile man she had ever seen outside of an action movie. ‘Well, that depends on your definition of old.’ She smiled to try and lighten the atmosphere. ‘But as a general rule I would say not.’

‘Then stay away from Ellery. He’s poison.’

She paused. The late-night breeze teased the hair at her temples and in the distance the rattle of New York–New York’s roller-coaster and requisite screams from the passengers could be heard. She felt flushed even though the night was still cool and her hands had definitely turned clammy.

‘Thanks for the warning,’ she said as brightly as she could. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me I’d better get back.’

Except for some reason she didn’t move.

‘What did Ellery want?’ Aidan asked suddenly.

Cara shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’ His blue eyes penetrated deep inside her. ‘Are you with him?’

‘Am I …’ Cara felt her brows draw together. ‘As in, am I seeing him?’

He waited and she knew that was exactly what he meant.

‘No.’

‘Do you want to?’

‘Absolutely not!’ Just the thought of it made her feel ill.

The intense man in front of her shifted his weight and seemed to tower over her even though he hadn’t really moved. ‘Then you shouldn’t smile at him as you have been all night.’

Cara frowned. ‘I’ve been doing my job.’

‘You’ve been giving him come-on signals with that smile of yours that promises unparalleled pleasure.’

Cara was shocked by his words. If asked, she would have said her smile had no effect on him whatsoever. But now, with his thick lashes shielding his thoughts from her, she felt an unexpected jolt of sexual awareness deep in her body.

She couldn’t stop her eyes from falling to his enticing mouth, the strong column of his neck. It was impossible not to imagine how his mouth would feel pressed against hers because she’d been doing it all night. She imagined he would taste heavenly. Like his scent.

He stepped closer to her, and without meaning to, Cara backed against the wall.

This man didn’t have to smile to promise a night of unparalleled pleasure, she thought, he just had to look at a woman. His confidence and subtle air of power were all the aphrodisiac she would need to have her silently beg for him to take her in his arms, to lower his head and kiss her. To have her feel a yearning ache deep in her pelvis she’d never experienced before.

‘My smile doesn’t—’ She stopped when she realised that his eyes were fixed on her mouth. They lingered there before rising to hers, heat radiating from their glittering depths.

‘Yeah, it does,’ he said gruffly. ‘And it might get you what you want with a poor, unsuspecting chauffeur, but a man like Ellery will take it as a green light whether you want him to or not.’

All Cara heard in that statement was the word chauffeur. ‘You know,’ she whispered, completely mortified, ‘don’t you?’

Aidan stepped into her personal space and she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. ‘What I know is that you’ve been driving me crazy all night. Tell me, Miss Chatsfield.’ His voice had grown rough and Cara’s eyes collided with his. ‘Do you deliver on that sex-kitten reputation of yours or are you an absolute let-down when the glamour is stripped away?’

Jolted once again, but this time by the harsh note that had entered his tone, Cara thought that her father would say the latter. Definitely the latter.

Before she could think about how to respond he had stepped closer still. Close enough that she could feel his heat, see the faint trace of stubble forming on his strong jaw. The air grew thick as he studied her, hot prickles of awareness chasing themselves over her cheekbones and down to her lips as if his intense gaze was an actual caress. The inside of her mouth felt like it had never had any moisture in it, and she couldn’t move.

His head lowered and every cell in her body sharpened to a single point as she waited for his kiss. Waited for his mouth to touch hers. It was the worst feeling in the world and also the best—that heightened anticipation, that feeling of being poised on the edge of a roller-coaster. You know your stomach is going to flip and you might even feel sick but the thrill of it would be worth it. Worth—

His mouth touched hers. A whisper of contact. Fleeting. Gentle.

For a second they both stared at each other, wide-eyed, their lips barely an inch apart, their warm breaths mingling, and then he moved, wrapping one hand around her waist and anchoring the other in her hair, his mouth slanting over hers with hungry skill.

Cara felt dizzy as the ground beneath her feet tilted and she had to close her eyes and grab on to him for support. Before she knew it his tongue licked along her closed lips and she didn’t even think of holding back as she opened to him.

He made a rough sound against her mouth that sent tingles down her spine, and gathered her closer, pressing her breasts into his torso, moulding her lower body to his. He was aroused—and huge—and Cara let out a low moan as his mouth took everything she had to offer.

His lips were warm and firm and then his tongue was in her mouth and—oh, God—sensations zigzagged through her, causing heat to pool at her core. With a small sound she kissed him back and twined her tongue with his, her fingers squeezing his wide shoulders and curving around his neck and into his thick hair. In that moment she could have been anywhere—Paris, Rome … Mars—and she wouldn’t have been aware of anything but his kiss.

Unfortunately a loud bang somewhere below startled them both and before she could blink she was free, her breaths coming in short, sharp pants. She pressed her hand to her chest, not unlike the stewardess earlier, and stared at him completely dumbstruck.

His eyes bored into hers, his breathing just as uneven as her own. She stared at the buttons on his shirt, his impressive chest that moved up and down like bellows as he attempted to contain his breathing.

‘Meet me later. After the game.’

It wasn’t a request, but a command. Rough. Forceful. Exciting beyond measure.

Cara couldn’t look away from the burning hunger in his gaze, her blood as thick as treacle as it flowed through her veins. All she wanted to do was lean into him, assuage the hollow ache deep in her body. She’d never had such a visceral reaction to a man before and her mind recoiled from it as much as it craved it.

Her lips buzzed and even though her mind kept telling her that it was wrong, that she should show caution, that she would only get hurt, she took a deep breath and said the only thing that she could.

‘Yes.’

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