‘Sally…May I call you Sally?’ he asked politely, then went on, ‘You are a beautiful young woman. Your father must be a very proud man.’

Overblown words of flattery from a man with a sexually explicit invitation in the dark eyes that met hers did not impress her. Her mother was her only concern.

Straightening her slender shoulders, she held out her hand politely. ‘Nice to meet you,’ she said flatly.

Zac Delucca did not miss the flash of distaste in her brilliant blue eyes as he finally let go of her hand.

Her voice was low, and ever so slightly husky. Her brilliant blue eyes had been cool as she glanced up at him and swiftly back to her father. Never had a woman so instantly dismissed him. Yet this beauty had done it twice. Her indifference rankled, and he was all the more determined to make her aware of him…

Jacqueline Baird began writing as a hobby, when her family objected to the smell of her oil painting, and immediately became hooked on the romantic genre. She loves travelling and worked her way around the world from Europe to the Americas and Australia, returning to marry her teenage sweetheart. She lives in Ponteland, Northumbria, the county of her birth, and has two teenage sons.

Untamed
Italian,
Blackmailed
Innocent

by

Jacqueline Baird

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

About The Author

Title Page

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

EPILOGUE

Copyright

Chapter One

ZAC DELUCCA stepped out of the chauffeur-driven limousine and glanced up at the four-storeyed Georgian-style building in front of him: the head office of Westwold Components, a company he had finally acquired two weeks ago. He had left Raffe, his top man, in charge of the changeover, so he had not expected to be needed in London in June, and he was not pleased…

He was ruggedly attractive, with black hair and shrewd dark eyes, and the navy silk and mohair suit he wore was a testament to the expertise of his tailor. The jacket stretched taut across shoulders as wide as a barn door, and at six feet five he was a powerful, impressive figure of a man in every respect. Not a man anyone could overlook, though the fierce frown at present marring his bold features would scare all but the bravest into glancing the other way.

Orphaned at a year old by the tragic death of his young parents in a car crash, Zac Delucca had spent his early years in a children’s home in Rome. He had left at fifteen, with nothing but the clothes he stood up in and a burning ambition to become a success in life.

Tall, and looking older than his years, he had by sheer guts, determination and keen intelligence dragged himself up from the gutter that beckoned. He had studied by day and used his physical strength in the testosterone-fuelled world of the fighting game at night to earn money and build up a stake to set up his own company: Delucca Holdings.

He had fought masked, under an assumed name, because he’d had total belief in his ability, mentally and physically, to be a winner in life. From a young age he had known he was destined to succeed on a worldwide scale…never mind in a canvas ring…

His first purchase at the age of twenty had been a rundown farm in southern Italy that had included three cottages, a large farmhouse and a thousand acres of neglected land. A few weeks later the government had bought a chunk of the acreage to build a new runway to expand a local airport for the increasing tourist trade.

Some people said he’d had inside information. He had said nothing and recouped the money he had invested and more besides. He’d converted the farm house, which was situated on the coast at the southernmost tip of Italy, with stunning views over the sea, and kept it for his own use.

The remaining land had included an overgrown olive grove he had tried to cultivate himself, but he had quickly realised agriculture was not for him and finally hired an expert in the field to restore, enlarge and manage the farm, while converting the cottages for the staff. Eventually he’d marketed the produce as Delucca Extra Fine Virgin Olive Oil, and Delucca Oil was today the choice of the connoisseur and priced accordingly…

It was the first business Zac had bought and kept.

Now, fifteen years later, Delucca Holdings was an international conglomerate that owned a vast array of companies, including mines, manufacturers, properties and oil of the petroleum variety as well as from the olive tree. Nothing was out of Delucca’s grasp.

Ruthless, arrogant, and merciless were some of the terms used by his enemies, but none in the business world friend or enemy could deny he was a financial wizard, and basically honest…A master of the universe who went after what he wanted and always succeeded.

‘Are you sure about this, Raffe?’ Zac demanded of the man who had exited the car to join him on the pavement.

Raffe Costa was his right-hand man and his friend. They had met over a decade ago, when Zac had applied for funding for a deal from a bank in Naples, where Raffe had been working in the commercial loan office. The pair had hit it off immediately, and two years later Raffe had joined Zac’s swiftly expanding company as an accountant-cum-PA. The title was not important. Zac trusted him completely, and knew him to be shrewd and rarely wrong.

‘Sure…?’ Raffe responded slowly. ‘No, I am not absolutely sure, but enough to want you to check it out,’ he qualified as they walked towards the entrance. ‘It wasn’t noticed in the due diligence we conducted before buying, because the siphoning off of funds—if that is what it is—has been done very cleverly, and been deeply hidden in the accounts for years.’

‘You’d better be right. Because I had plans to take a holiday, and I did not intend it to be in London,’ Zac said dryly, flicking his friend a glance as they entered the building. ‘I had a hot climate and a hot woman in mind.’

Zac Delucca was not a happy man. He had no trouble in thinking on several levels at the same time, and right now, while smiling at the security guard as Raffe introduced him, another part of his mind was wondering how quickly—if Raffe’s suspicions were correct—he could sort out the problem and leave…

He had, after months of prolonged negotiation, finalised this deal. Coincidentally it had been the following morning, standing in the shower, that he realised he had been celibate for almost a year. Ten months since he had parted with his last lady, because she was becoming too proprietorial and the M word had surfaced more than once.

Amazed at his own restraint, he had swiftly decided to rectify the situation by arranging a couple of dates with a rather striking model from Milan. He had planned to take her out on his yacht for the day and make her his mistress. If they proved to be compatible he had actually considered breaking the habit of a lifetime and allowing her to accompany him on a cruise around the Caribbean for a few weeks.

He had never taken more than a week’s holiday in years, but just lately he’d found himself questioning if work was the be-all and end-all of life. Unusual for him. He was not usually given to bouts of introspection and immediately he had decided to do something about it—hence Lisa the Milan model…

Unfortunately, the call last night from Raffe, voicing some concern over the recent acquisition of Westwold Components, looked like scuppering his plan.

He signed the log-in book where the security guard indicated—a formality, but no doubt the man wanted to impress—and was then introduced to the receptionist: Melanie.

‘I’m sure Mr Costa will have told you,’ the girl simpered, while hanging on to Zac’s hand like a leech. ‘We are all really happy to become part of Delucca Holdings, and if there is anything I personally can do…’ The busty blonde fluttered her eyelashes at him. ‘Just ask.’

The woman gushed and pouted at the same time, which was quite a feat, Zac thought cynically.

‘Thank you,’ he replied smoothly, and, disentangling his hand from the receptionist’s grasp, he turned. ‘Come on, Raffe, let’s get—’ And he stopped, his dark eyes instinctively flaring in primitive masculine appreciation of the woman walking into the building.

‘Exquisite,’ he murmured under his breath, his stunned gaze roaming over her. She had the face of an angel, and a body to tempt any man with blood in his veins…

Big, misty-blue eyes, pale, almost translucent skin, a small nose and a wide mouth with full lips that begged to be kissed. Long ruby-red hair fell in soft curls around her slender shoulders, and the elegant white obviously designer dress she wore caressed every curve of her slender body. Sleeveless, with a low square neck and a broad white belt circling her tiny waist, it accentuated her high full breasts.

She looked bridal…The unbidden thought flashed in his mind. But the evocative tap of high-heeled shoes on the marble floor knocked it straight out as his gaze lowered to where the hem of the skirt ended on her knees. The red stiletto sandals she wore screamed sex.

His heart almost stopped. She had legs to die for…A mental image of them clamped around his waist had his body hardening instantly.

‘Who is that?’ he demanded of Raffe.

‘I have no idea, but she is gorgeous.’

Zac looked at his friend and saw he was watching the girl as she drew nearer. He had to bite his lip to stop himself saying, Take your eyes off her. She is mine.

In that instant he came to a decision. Admittedly she was not his usual type. Tall, elegant brunettes had been his preference up until now. This woman was average height, with that long, red hair, but for some inexplicable reason he wanted her with a hunger he had not felt in a long time. He decided he was going to have her…

His firm lips parted in a loaded smile aimed directly at her, but amazingly the girl walked straight past him with a dismissive shake of her head…

Sally Paxton strode across the foyer of Westwold Components, determination in every step. She flicked a glance at the group of people at the reception desk and caught a brilliant smile from the tallest man in the group. Her heart missed a beat and she felt her shoulders stiffen with tension. She had to appear confident, as if she belonged here. Maybe he was someone she should recognise…She gave a brief nod of her head in acknowledgment.

Sally Paxton was a woman on a mission…and nothing and no one was going to stop her…

Her blue eyes fixed with a determined light on the two elevators situated to the rear of the elegant foyer. One elevator she knew was for general use; the other—the one she wanted—went directly to the top floor, where her father’s office was situated.

Zac Delucca, for the first time in his adult life, had been virtually overlooked by a woman, and for a moment it left him dumbfounded.

Recovering, he demanded of the receptionist, ‘Who is that girl, and what department does she work in?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before.’

‘Security,’ he said, alerting the guard standing nearby, but he was already calling out.

‘Stop, miss, you have to sign in!’

Sally stopped in front of the elevator and jabbed at the button, lost in her own angry thoughts. The one and only time she had visited her dad’s London office had been over seven years ago. She had been eighteen and had called in unannounced one Wednesday afternoon, after watching her beloved mother open a birthday card from her husband that morning.

Sally had been hoping to persuade her dad to return with her that evening to their home in Bournemouth, rather than waiting until the weekend. It was her mum’s birthday, for heaven’s sake…At least he had remembered to post a card…But as her mother had recently been discharged from hospital after a mastectomy, Sally had been determined to make him see that his wife needed his support.

The success of the surprise dinner party Sally had planned for the evening had depended on her father’s presence.

Her lips tightened in disgust, and briefly she closed her eyes. Even now the scene that had met her eyes was still scorched into her brain, and made her simmer with rage…

Nigel Paxton’s secretary had not been in the outer office, so Sally had knocked on her father’s door. When no one had answered she had opened it and walked in.

It had not been a pretty sight…There was her dad, leaning over his desk with his half-naked secretary, half his age, sprawled across the desk beneath him.

No wonder they hadn’t heard her knock…

Her father…the slick seducer…the serial adulterer…the slimy lying toad…the man her mother loved and thought could do no wrong—the man Sally had slowly grown to despise.

The elevator arrived and she stepped in and pressed the button. Leaning back against the wall, she closed her eyes.

As a young child she supposed she had loved her father, even though he hadn’t been around a lot. Their home in Bournemouth had been a large detached Victorian house overlooking the sea. But her father, as chief accountant for Westwolds Components, was based in the London headquarters of the company, and kept a studio apartment in the city where he stayed during the week.

As an idealistic teenager, anti-war of any kind, she had been horrified when she’d realised the firm her dad worked for manufactured essential parts for weapons. She had announced that it was morally wrong to work in the arms industry, and he had told her she was a silly girl, and to stick to looking good and leave the running of the world to men.

To call him a male chauvinist pig was to insult pigs! Dark haired, handsome and charming to those who did not know him, her father was at the top of his game in the accountancy stakes—but in Sally’s book he was a spineless apology for a man.

Well, today he was going to hear just what she thought of him—yet again, and demand he accompany her to visit her mother in the private nursing home in Devon that had been her mum’s home for almost two years.

It was over six weeks since her father had shown his face, and she blinked tears from her eyes as she pictured again the look on her mum’s face every time Sally arrived to visit. The gleam of hope that faded as she realised her latest visitor was not her husband yet again. Sally’s excuse for her dad that ‘pressure of work’ kept him in London was wearing very thin.

Her mother knew about his affairs, because Sally at eighteen had blurted out what she had seen. And her mother had admitted she had always known about her husband’s other women—in the plural!

Sally had been horrified when her mother had actually made excuses for him. Explaining how it was difficult for him as a virile man, because she had not been a very able wife in the bedroom department for quite some time even before she had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and that he was a good and generous husband and father and she loved him.

Nothing Sally said had affected her mother’s opinion or her love for her husband, and, not wanting to upset her mother, she had been forced to drop the subject.

As for her father—she’d told him exactly what she thought of him, and he had simply responded with the usual: that she was a silly girl who knew nothing of the wants and needs of adults, and that she should mind her own business and concentrate on her studies, because he was paying enough for them…

Immediately, she had wanted to give up her place at Exeter University, where she’d been in her first year studying Ancient History, but her mother would not hear of it. Reluctantly, Sally had to agree, but she could barely bring herself to be civil to her father when he did occasionally return home the same weekend as her.

As it happened, her mother had been right to insist on her continuing her education, because her mum had recovered from the breast cancer remarkably well. Sally had watched her slowly begin to grow in confidence and hope as test after test had come back with positive results.

When her mum had reached the five-year point and still been in the clear she had told Sally it was time for her to spread her wings a little and strike out on her own. After graduating Sally had initially worked at a small local museum near home. But after her mother’s encouragement she had applied and secured a job as a researcher at the British Museum in London.

Sally had loved her new job—and the fully furnished one-bedroom apartment she had rented over a bakery in the city. For the first six months life had been good. Her mum had been well, and had occasionally visited her in London. Sally had gone home most weekends, and, excluding her dad, the future had looked rosy. Then the horrendous tragedy of her mum’s accident had destroyed their fragile happiness.

Even now Sally could not get her head around how fate could be so cruel…She shook her head as a huge black cloud of sadness enveloped her. It was so unfair. After five years her mum had virtually recovered from the cancer. Only to be knocked down by a car as she walked out behind the bus she had taken to the centre of Bournemouth to shop. After months of treatment she had been left a paraplegic, with no hope of further improvement.

Now every weekend Sally travelled down to Devon, where she stayed in a small hotel near the nursing home so she could spend as much time with her mother as possible. Last Saturday evening Sally had been sitting with her mother and had watched her face light up at the sound of her husband’s voice on the telephone, had seen in her eyes the pain and sadness she’d tried to hide as she replaced the receiver, and had listened with growing anger as her mother repeated the conversation.

Apparently her father had called to tell her he could not make it on Sunday, nor the next weekend…His excuse was that with the takeover of the company by the Italian firm Delucca Holdings, he was up to his ears in work.

Sally opened her eyes and took a deep breath. She needed to calm down, and she needed to plan what she was going to say to her father. Yelling at him would be futile. For her mother’s sake she needed him to go to the nursing home with her willingly, for once in his selfish life, to act the part of loving husband.

God knew it wasn’t as if he was going to have to do it for long…If the consultant was to be believed, her mother’s life expectancy was limited.

On her last visit the doctor had called Sally into his consulting room and informed her that her mother’s heart was weakened beyond repair, probably as a result of the cancer treatment she had undergone combined with the accident that had followed. He was sorry, but there was nothing more that could be done, and in his opinion her mother had maybe a year at best. But in reality she could go at any time.

The doors opened and Sally exited the elevator. Her dad’s office was at the far end of the corridor, and, squaring her shoulders, she tightened her grip on her red clutch purse and made straight for his door.

Zac Delucca crossed to where the security guard stood, pressing the button for the elevator.

‘Sorry, sir, she got away. But this elevator only goes to the top floor, where the boardroom and Mr Costa’s office is situated. The only other office is Mr Paxton’s, the company accountant, but that wasn’t his girlfriend—secretary,’ he quickly corrected himself. ‘Maybe the lady is looking for you?’ he suggested, trying to sound positive after having failed in his duty to register all visitors.

So the accountant was having an affair…Zac filed the information away. ‘Do not worry, Joe,’ he said, glancing at the name tag on his uniform. ‘You were distracted—and if what you say is true the lady is not going anywhere. I suggest you get back to you desk.’

The elevator doors glided open, and Zac and Raffe entered.

‘Is the lady likely to be looking for you?’ Raffe asked with a grin. ‘Or should I say chasing?’

‘I should be so lucky,’ Zac drawled, though it was a common occurrence for women to chase him. He was an incredibly wealthy man and, as one reporter had once written, with his kind of wealth, good looks and height—a broken nose notwithstanding—he was a magnet for women the world over. Not that he thought of himself as such…

Concentrating on the task at hand, he asked, ‘It is the accountant whom you suspect of fraud, is it not, Raffe?’

‘Yes.’

‘I take it he is a married man?’

‘Yes—married with one child, I believe.’

‘And apparently this man has a mistress, and they do not come cheap. Your suspicions are looking well founded, Raffe.’

Sally walked straight into her father’s office and stopped. He was sitting behind his desk, his head in his hands, a picture of misery. Maybe she had misjudged him…Maybe he was more upset over his wife’s diagnosis than he showed.

‘Dad?’ she called softly, and he lifted his head.

‘Oh, it’s you.’ He straightened up, frowning. ‘What are you doing here? No, don’t tell me.’ He raised his hand. ‘You are on a holier-than-thou mission and want me to go and visit your mum, right?’

He wasn’t upset. He was the same selfish bastard he had always been.

‘Silly me.’ Sally shook her head in disgust. ‘For a moment there I thought you were thinking of your wife…’ She glanced around the large room and through the open door to the secretary’s office beyond, which was empty, and then back to her dad.

‘Well, I have had enough of your lies and deceit, and for once in your life you are going to do the decent thing and come with me tonight.’

‘Not now, darling,’ he snapped, and stood up, straightening his tie.

Zac Delucca had heard the woman’s demand that Paxton go with her as he entered the office, and he did not miss the darling, or the sardonic curl of the woman’s lips as she responded.

‘What’s the matter? Your latest Girl Friday deserted you? And I use the word girl deliberately,’ Sally goaded. And she must have hit the nail on the head as the colour seemed to drain from her dad’s face. Then she realised he was looking straight past her. The smile on his face did not reach the eyes that for an instant flickered with fear, quickly masked.

Inexplicably, Sally shivered, despite the slight stuffiness of the office on the hot summer’s day, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Someone else had entered the room, probably his secretary, and she was now shooting daggers at her back, having overheard her comment. Not that Sally gave a damn about upsetting her dad’s latest mistress…

‘Mr Costa, I was not expecting you back again so soon.’

Sally stiffened as her dad spoke and then stepped forward, ignoring her. Then she heard the Costa man introduce a Signor Delucca.

‘Mr Delucca, this is an unexpected pleasure. I am delighted to meet you.’

Her father’s hearty greeting rang a little false to Sally. She knew every intonation of his voice, and he did not sound delighted. She certainly was not. His secretary she could handle, but she stiffened as she recognised the name Delucca.

After her father had stated the man was taking over the company Sally had read an article about him in the business section of a newspaper. He was an Italian tycoon, incredibly wealthy, and renowned as the takeover king. His latest acquisition was Westwold. In a footnote to the article, it said that apparently he kept his private life very private, but it was known that he had escorted numerous statuesque models in his time.

Unbelievable…Sally fumed silently. For years she had for her mum’s benefit kept the peace with her father, even if it had been mostly by ignoring him. But today, for the first time in years, she had decided to challenge him and demand he cut out the lies and the girlfriend for the weekend and do the right thing by his wife. Instead, for once it seemed he might have been telling the truth. The new owner Delucca was here. Perhaps her dad did intend working the weekend…

But not if she could help it…

Chapter Two

ZAC DELUCCA walked forward and briefly shook the hand Nigel Paxton held out to him. ‘The pleasure is mine,’ he said suavely, and, turning, shifted his attention to the stunning woman.

He studied her intently for a long moment. Her gaze was fixed on Paxton and never wavered. She did not even glance at Zac, and he was intrigued. Could this gorgeous woman actually be Paxton’s lover? Or maybe, by the sound of the conversation he had overheard, a discarded lover? Both scenarios he found very hard to believe. Firstly, she was too young for Paxton, and secondly, any man who had such a female in his bed would be a fool to let her go. With a face and figure like hers she could take her pick of the male population and probably did, he concluded as he noted the banked-down fire in her ice-blue eyes that to a man with his expert knowledge of women denoted a passionate nature.

‘Sorry to intrude. I was not aware you had company,’ he continued, turning his attention back to the accountant—the possible thief, he reminded himself. ‘You must introduce me to your charming friend, Paxton,’ he commanded, and waited, his dark eyes once again roaming over the woman’s lovely face and exquisite body.

Sally barely registered the stranger’s smooth tones as her dad made the introduction.

‘Oh, she is not my friend,’ her father chuckled, and beamed down at her. He had got that right, she thought cynically. ‘This is my daughter, Sally.’

She turned slightly and looked up, and up again, at a positive giant of a man—with black hair and black eyes, and no doubt a black heart, if his unashamed masculine scrutiny of her body was anything to go by.

‘Sally…May I call you Sally?’ he asked politely, then went on, ‘You are a beautiful young woman. Your father must be a very proud man.’

Why did she get the feeling there was an underlying cynicism in his tone? Not that she cared. Overblown words of flattery from a man with a sexually explicit invitation in the dark eyes that met hers did not impress her, and she refused to be intimidated. Her mother was her only concern, and she shrugged off the unfamiliar tremor that slid down her spine.

Straightening her slender shoulders, she held out her hand politely, and it was immediately engulfed in his much larger one. ‘Nice to meet you,’ she said flatly, and looked back at her father again. At the same time she attempted to slip her hand from Delucca’s, but outrageously his thumb slowly stroked the length of her palm and her fingers before setting her free.

How predictable—another one like her dad, she thought bitterly.

Zac Delucca did not miss the flash of distaste in her brilliant blue eyes as he finally let go of her hand. Maybe caressing her palm had been a little juvenile, but he had been unable to resist the temptation to test the softness of her skin against his. For a moment he imagined the brush of every inch of her skin against his naked body, and had to fight to control the surge of arousal the thought induced.

He had definitely been too long without a woman, but now he knew it was not Lisa in Milan or any other woman he wanted. It was this woman he wanted, and he resolved to have her. He had no doubt he would succeed—he always did. It was simply a matter of negotiating the when and where, sooner rather than later, if his neglected libido had any say in the matter.

Her voice was low, and ever so slightly husky. Her brilliant blue eyes had been cool as she glanced up at him and swiftly back to her father. Never had a woman so instantly dismissed him. Usually they hung on to his hand…Yet this beauty had done it twice. Her indifference rankled, and he was all the more determined to make her aware of him…

He watched as her father introduced her to Raffe. She gave him an equally brief smile and turned back to her father yet again. But as she continued speaking, Zac sensed it was not so much that she was ignoring him, but that she was disappointed in her father for some reason. He noted the dark flush that stained the older man’s face and he felt the tension between them.

Thinking fast, Sally spoke. ‘I hope you don’t mind, Mr Delucca,’ she said without actually looking at the man, her hard blue eyes fixed on the reprobate that was her father. ‘I called round to persuade my father to take me out to lunch. I am always telling him he works far too many hours. Isn’t that right, Dad?’ she prompted sweetly.

She did not want to reveal her mother’s poor health to two virtual strangers, but she did need to get her dad by himself and extract a promise from him to go with her—if not tonight, then in the morning—to visit his wife. He was not fobbing her off again.

‘Yes, but you are a little late. I had a sandwich earlier, as I am rather busy, and as you can see, Mr Delucca, the new owner of the company, has just arrived. I can’t possibly take you to lunch today. Why don’t you run along and I will ring you this evening?’

Next he would be patting her on the head, like the silly girl he thought she was, Sally thought angrily. She knew perfectly well he would not call her tonight. She knew every lying tone of his voice. But she also realised there was not much she could do about it. Not with two strange men standing listening to the exchange.

She stared at her father for a moment. He was smiling his usual charming smile, and yet there was something…She could hear the underlying strain in his voice. Whether it was because she had turned up or because of his new boss’s presence she wasn’t sure, but before she could decide she felt the brief brush of long male fingers on her forearm—apparently to get her attention. Involuntarily she tensed at the touch, and glanced up in surprise, her blue eyes clashing with black.

‘Your father is right, Sally. He is going to be occupied for the rest of the day with Raffe, my accountant.’

For some inexplicable reason, Sally was paralysed by the dark eyes holding hers. They were not actually black, more a deep dark brown, with the faintest tinge of gold, and framed by the longest, thickest, sootiest eyelashes she had ever seen on a man.

What on earth was she doing? She tried to look away. Her mother was her only concern. But somehow her gaze lingered for a moment on his striking face. He wasn’t handsome, she decided. At some time his nose had been broken, and had healed, leaving a slight bump, and above one arched black eyebrow there was an inch-long scar.

‘But I could not possibly allow a young lady to lunch alone.’

Still studying his face, she was only half registering his words. Then with a jolt she swiftly lowered her gaze as she suddenly had a good idea where his statement was going. She glanced back up to see Delucca turn his attention to her dad.

‘If you have no objection, Paxton, I will take your daughter to lunch. Raffe is more than capable of explaining the business we need to discuss, and I will see you later.’

Sally was too stunned by the turn of events to object immediately. Instead she glanced from one man to the other, and caught the hardest look pass between them, and then her father responded—at his jovial best.

‘That is extremely kind of you, Mr Delucca. Problem solved. Sally, darling, Mr Delucca will take you to lunch—isn’t that good of him?’

Sally looked from her dad up to the man towering over her, his dark eyes gleaming with sardonic amusement and something more she did not want to recognise. She shivered and did not bother to answer her dad. Good…? There was nothing good about this man. Of that she was sure…

Ten minutes later Sally was sitting in the back of a limousine, Zac Delucca seated beside her, on her way to a lunch she did not really want.

‘Comfortable, Sally?’

‘Fine,’ she responded automatically. How the hell had this happened? she asked herself for the umpteenth time.

‘The restaurant is about twenty minutes away—a favourite of mine when I am in London.’

‘Fine,’ she murmured, rerunning in her head the conversation in the office.

When she had finally found her voice she had tried to get out of going to lunch with the excuse that she wasn’t that hungry and she was sure Mr Delucca was far too busy to waste time with her.

Delucca had silkily stated that time was never wasted with a beautiful woman. She had noted the devilish humour in his dark eyes, and just known he was laughing at her. He was the kind of man who always won, and she had wanted to slap him.

He’d known that as well, she was sure.

Then there was her dad, who for some reason had seemed very keen for her to go out with the man. In fact, he had practically insisted. With the two of them ganging up on her, she’d never had a chance.

Still, how bad could it be? she asked herself. A quick meal and then she could leave Delucca at the restaurant and grab a cab home. She gazed out of the car window and idly wondered how they made the tinted glass that looked black from the outside of the car, but from the inside was clear, allowing her to see everything outside.

She felt the brush of a hard masculine thigh against her own and moved slightly. If Delucca was coming on to her he was wasting his time. She wasn’t interested. She ignored the sudden warmth in her thigh…

Men did not interest her. Men in general did not figure large in her life, and with her father as an example it was hardly surprising. What with caring and worrying about her mother’s health for most of her adult life—because her father certainly did not—she had never had the time for a boyfriend since she’d left school, even if she had wanted one. If her mother’s doctor was right, she might soon have all the time in the world, and the knowledge made her want to weep. With sightless eyes she stared out of the window, a deep sigh escaping her.

Zac Delucca, for the first time in years, was stumped by a woman. The woman at his side was barely aware of his existence. Her uninterested responses to any attempt at conversation were monosyllabic, and it irritated the hell out of him.

He had even resorted to allowing his thigh to brush against hers, and while it had done dangerous things to his libido she had dismissed the contact without a glance. He was definitely losing his touch, he thought, a wry grin twisting his firm lips.

‘That was a big sigh. Is my company so boring?’ He prompted sardonically.

The deep, dark tone of his voice reminded Sally where she was, and she turned her head to look at him. ‘Not at all, Mr Delucca,’ she replied coolly, and watched as he squared his impressively broad shoulders and casually stretched a long arm across the back of the seat behind her. Not touching, but somehow enclosing her. She drew in a shaky breath, not liking the unfamiliar weak sensation that he somehow aroused in her.

‘Then please call me Zac,’ he invited smoothly. Her face was a perfect social mask, but he had sensed her unease when he had moved closer. She was not as unaware of him as she appeared, and at last he had got her attention. ‘I want there to be no formality between us, Sally,’ he told her huskily.

In fact, he wanted nothing at all between them—not a stitch of clothing, just flesh on flesh. He had never felt so fiercely attracted to a woman in his life, and he watched her reaction as, unable to resist touching her, he allowed his long fingers to slide down and caress her shoulder.

She jumped like a scalded cat and shot back. ‘I don’t want anything at all between us.’

He could not prevent a chuckle as she verbalised his thought exactly, but he was pretty sure she was not thinking along the same lines as him.

‘I’m glad you find me amusing,’ she snapped, looking anything but amused. ‘And take your hand off me.’ She leant forward, shrugging her shoulder to dislodge his hand.

Zac let her, and settled back in the seat. Maybe he had made a mistake. Did he have the time to pursue her, and did he really want to? She was just another typical high-maintenance little rich girl, with her nose put out of joint because the doting father who kept her in comfort had refused to jump to her bidding.

The irony did not escape him. If Raffe’s suspicions were correct, he had already paid for Sally Paxton’s lifestyle without any of the benefits of keeping a beautiful woman.

He studied her for a long moment. She was incredibly lovely. Maybe he could make time. Her hands were folded in her lap, the soft swell of her breasts was just visible above the square-cut neckline of her dress, and her face was hauntingly beautiful but somehow sad. The end of an affair maybe…Easier for him if she was unattached…

‘Not so amusing. More intriguing,’ Zac finally responded, suddenly needing to know. ‘Tell me—do you have a man in your life?’

Sally had heard the question countless times before. While she did not bother with men, quite a few bothered her, and she had developed a surefire way to cool their interest.

‘No. Do you have a wife?’ she retorted, glancing at him. He was still too close for her liking, his hard bicep touching her shoulder. Perhaps it wasn’t deliberate—he was a big man, with an even bigger ego to match, she surmised, and put her plan into action. ‘Because I never go out with married men.’

‘No wife.’ He smiled a hunter’s smile, Sally thought. ‘Nor do I want one,’ he confirmed. Lifting one long finger, he swept a stray tendril of her hair around her ear and stroked down her cheek to tip her chin towards him. ‘And no significant woman at the moment. So there isn’t anything to prevent us getting together. I am a very generous lover, in bed and out. Trust me—I promise you will not be disappointed.’

The sheer arrogance of the man astounded Sally. She had only met him half an hour ago. Yet already he had told her he wasn’t into commitment but was looking for an affair. Bottom line, she amended, he was looking for sex. Nothing more. Just like her dad.

She fought her instinctive reflex to knock his finger from her chin, and instead lifted wide blue eyes to his. They were dark and gleaming with masculine confidence. Well, not for long, she determined.

‘Oh, I don’t know, Zac,’ she said huskily, and finally deliberately used his name. ‘I am almost twenty-six, and I do want a husband—just not someone else’s.’ His finger fell from her chin. She caught the flicker of wariness in his dark eyes and wasn’t surprised. Typical male reaction…

She gave him a wry smile. ‘I too think it is good to be honest about one’s intentions, as you so obviously are, Zac.’ Sally doubted he noticed the underlying sarcasm in her tone. ‘Therefore I feel I should do the same. Ideally, I would like to have three children, while I am young enough to enjoy them, so basically I do not have time to waste on an affair with you, even if I wanted to.’

The expression on his face was comical. From confident, ardent suitor to wary and outraged male in less than sixty seconds.

‘I can assure you no woman has ever found an affair with me a waste of time,’ he declared arrogantly, and she almost laughed out loud.

Unable to help herself, she expanded on the theme.

‘If you say so.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Then again, you must be—what? Thirty-six, seven…’

‘Thirty-five,’ he snapped.

He didn’t like that, and Sally stifled a grin. ‘Still, you’re not getting any younger either. Maybe you will change your mind about marriage. You will certainly make someone a wonderful husband,’ she complimented him, and was actually beginning to enjoy herself. He moved slightly, his arm no longer touching her shoulder, and for the first time since meeting him she actually gave him her whole attention.

She turned her back half against the window in order to face him, and deliberately let her big blue eyes roam slowly over him. His hair was silky black, with a tendency to curl, obviously controlled by superb styling. His eyes were heavy lidded, and at the moment narrowed, hiding his expression. His features were big: large nose, a wide mouth with perfectly chiselled lips, the bottom one slightly fuller, and a square jaw with a delightful indentation in his chin.

Actually, he was very attractive, Sally acknowledged. His shoulders were wide, his chest broad and his muscled thighs were stretching the fabric of his trousers, she noted as he moved further away and crossed the leg nearest to her over his other knee.

A student of body language would probably say that was a sign of rejection…Her ploy had worked, Sally thought. But to make sure, she added, ‘You do have all the attributes to make a good husband—you’re a fine figure of a man, fit and filthy rich.’

Zac had listened with growing disquiet as she spoke. The woman was after a husband—a rich husband. She was the same as all the rest of her species. Her saving grace, if one could call it that, was that at least she had put all her cards on the table up front.

Getting into anything with her would be a huge mistake, his inbuilt sense of survival screamed at him. But, when she had barely looked at him since they met, feeling her gorgeous blue eyes examining every inch of him had been the most erotic experience he had known in ages. Out of necessity he had crossed one leg over the other knee, to hide the wayward reaction of his body.

Thank the Lord the car was slowing down. In a minute they would be at the restaurant. A swift meal and a polite goodbye, and the fact he had trouble keeping his hands off this woman he would put down to his lengthy celibacy. His common sense was telling him this lady was dangerous to his peace of mind. Time to walk away.

He glanced at Sally. She was sitting back in the seat again, but her eyes were no longer cold. They were sparkling. He caught the glint of feline satisfaction in the blue depths, and her soft mouth quirked at the corners in a barely concealed grin.

The little devil! Had she been teasing him? Deliberately trying to put him off? He wasn’t sure, and that was another first for him. Usually he could read a woman like a book, but this one had him tied in knots.

Warning bells rang loud and clear in his head, but he ignored them. He needed to delve a little deeper to discover what really made her tick. He had sensed her sadness and disappointment earlier—at her father or men in general he wasn’t sure. She had done her best to ignore him, but then she had examined him with blatant female thoroughness and he knew she liked what she saw.

He was not a fool. He had felt her reaction the moment he had put a finger on her arm in the office, and again when he touched her cheek. She was not immune to him. But was she really looking for a wealthy husband?

Did he care? He had escaped that trap all his life, and he was smart enough to continue to do so. But he enjoyed a challenge, and Sally Paxton was definitely a challenge—one that he was determined to pursue and conquer.

She was an adult woman, not some shy young virgin, and he did not have to deprive his body of the pleasure of hers simply because she was looking for a husband, he concluded—to his own satisfaction.

Chapter Three

THE restaurant was one of the best in London, and as they were led to their table by the maître d’, with Delucca’s hand firmly in the small of her back, Sally began to wonder if she had been as clever as she thought at discouraging him.

Something had gone wrong. His hand was like a brand, burning through the raw silk of her dress, and if his reaction as he had helped her from the limousine was anything to go by she was in deep trouble. He had declared that now they knew where they stood they could get better acquainted over lunch.

He certainly didn’t believe in wasting time, and she certainly did not want to get better acquainted with the man, she thought as her chair was held out for her and she sat down at the table. Briefly she looked around. There were more people leaving than arriving, and she glanced at the slim gold watch on her wrist. Not surprising, as it was two in the afternoon.

Suddenly, she was tired. She had been working all week, helping set up the latest exhibition to be staged at the museum. This morning the opening for the press and dignitaries had taken place, and she had attended at the request of her boss to answer any questions about the historical provenance of the exhibits. Usually she went to work in neat skirts and tops, but today she had dressed more smartly for the occasion. For months now she had been researching the history of the different exhibits, some of which had been brought up from the vast storage cellars and never been shown before.

Her boss knew of her mum’s condition and had kindly allowed her to slip away at one o’clock. Almost two years of faithfully visiting her mother every weekend plus holidays, not to mention the constant worry, had taken their toll and she felt completely washed out.

The last thing she needed was to fight off the attentions of a predatory male. What she really needed was her bed…alone…

‘Madam?’

She looked up. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured to the hovering maître d’, and took the menu.

‘Perhaps you would prefer I order for you?’

There it was, that deep accented voice again, intruding on her thoughts. Reluctantly, Sally glanced across the table at her companion. For a moment their eyes met, and she recognised the challenging gleam in the depths of his before glancing down at the menu in her hand.

He was sitting there, all arrogant, powerful male, and she was about to refuse when she thought, why bother? The quicker he ordered, the quicker they ate, and the quicker she could get away from his disturbing presence. Because, being brutally honest, she recognised he did disturb her, in a way she had never felt before. But then he probably had the same effect on every woman on the planet. He was one hundred percent macho male, and then some…

No wonder he wasn’t into commitment. Why would he settle for one woman when he had the pick of the best, according to the article she had read about him. It had extolled his brilliant business acumen and ended mentioning his preference for model girlfriends.

She certainly wasn’t in his league, and nor did she want to be, she concluded firmly.

‘Fine,’ she said, and handed the menu back to the maître d’, and let her hand drop on the table, her fingers idly playing with a fork. She wasn’t hungry—what did it matter what the man ordered?

‘They do a very good steak here, and I can recommend the sea bass, but everything they serve is excellent.’

‘The fish will be fine.’

‘Fine,’ Zac drawled with biting sarcasm. She was back to uninterested again. Grim-faced, he relayed the order to the maître d’, including a bottle of rather good wine. But inside he was seething.

Fine, she agreed when he mentioned the wine, without even looking at him. He had seen her glance at her watch as they arrived. He had never known any woman to be interested in the time when with him. Now she was sitting there, head bent, fiddling with a fork. Nobody ignored him—and certainly not a woman whose father had embezzled money out of a business of his. No matter how beautiful she was.

‘Tell me, Sally, what do you do when you are not pressuring your father to take you to lunch?’ he began silkily. ‘Do you fill your days with shopping and visiting the beautician? Not that you need to…’ He reached across and caught her hand in his, turning it over to examine the smooth palm. ‘Does this soft hand actually do any work, or does Daddy keep you?’

Sally’s head shot up as a tingling sensation snaked through her arm, and swiftly she pulled her hand free. Suddenly, she was intensely aware of Zac Delucca, in more ways than one. She was intelligent enough to know when she had been insulted. How typical of a super-rich tycoon like him to automatically think that simply because she had one Friday afternoon free her father supported her financially. Well, she was damned if she was going enlighten him. Let him keep his sexist attitude—she didn’t care…

‘I do shop—doesn’t everyone?’ she said nonchalantly. It was the truth. ‘And I visit the hairdresser sometimes.’ Again it was the truth. ‘The rest of the time I read a lot.’ Also the truth.

The food and wine arrived, interrupting the exchange, and Sally was grateful. She really wasn’t up to sparring with the man any more. She had a feeling he was far too intelligent to be deceived by anything anyone said for long.

Zac filled her wine glass, although she had refused a drink. He insisted she try it. He offered her a piece of his steak on his fork, and she was so surprised by the intimacy of the gesture she actually took it.

He asked what her favourite film was. She said Casablanca, and he told her she was a hopeless romantic, then added that if he had been in Humphrey Bogart’s position he would have taken the woman and run, which made her smile but somehow did not surprise her…His favourite film was Cape Fear, which she did find odd—until they got around to discussing books.

She told him she liked to read history and biographies, as well as being partial to the occasional murder story. And she discovered he spent most of his time reading financial journals and reports, but he did confess to reading the occasional thriller when he had time. Which figured, given Cape Fear was his first choice of film.

Sally sat back in her chair, replacing her knife and fork on the plate, surprised to note she had emptied her plate without realising. Against all expectations the lunch had been quite pleasant. Zac was a witty conversationalist, and he had made her smile—quite an accomplishment in her present state of mind.

She refused Zac’s suggestion of a dessert and agreed to a coffee. He placed the order with the waiter, and Sally glanced around the restaurant again. The furnishings were elegant, the staff discreet, and it was obviously very expensive. Luckily, she was dressed for the occasion—not that she had expected to be here. The clientele were mostly wealthy, high-powered business people, she surmised. Of the few that were left she recognised a famous female presenter from the television and a well-known comedian.

‘Sally Salmacis, as I live and breathe,’ a voice called out.

Sally’s eyes widened, and she pushed back her chair and leapt to her feet as six feet of shockingly ginger-haired male came striding towards her.

‘Algernon!’ she laughed.

Blue eyes met blue, and they grinned at each other, sharing a long-standing joke. Then she was swept up in a bear hug and kissed briefly on the lips, before being held at arm’s length.

‘Let me look at you. Gosh, you are more gorgeous than ever, Sally. How long has it been since I saw you? Two, three years?’

‘About that,’ she agreed. ‘But what are you doing here?’ she asked. ‘I thought you were still collecting butterflies in the Amazon. I had visions of you being eaten alive by mosquitoes.’

‘Yes, well, not quite—but not far off. You know me. I never could stand the heat.’

‘Hardly surprising.’ She arched one delicate eyebrow. ‘I did warn you, Al.’ His complexion, if anything, was even fairer than hers.

They had met at primary school, two redheads with unusual names, and had naturally gravitated towards each other as protection against the bullies. Al was the only person who dared to use her given name. She had demanded even her parents must call her Sally after her first year at school, and Algernon had done the same, demanding his parents call him Al. As teenagers they had planned on taking a year off after university to go around the world together, starting with South America—Al for the butterflies, and Sally to see the ruins of Machu Picchu. Her mum’s illness had put an end to Sally’s dream, but she still lived with the faint hope that she would do it one day.

‘So what are you up to?’ she queried, delighted to see him again.

‘Working in the family firm with Dad. We had just finished lunch, and I was following him out when I spotted you. But what about you? Still studying the Ancients?’ he prompted with a grin.

‘Yes.’ She grinned back.

‘I have to dash, but give me your new number. I tried your old with no joy.’ He took his cell phone out of his pocket and entered the number as Sally told him.

Zac Delucca had seen and heard enough. The telephone number was the final straw. For a woman with no man in her life, this guy, if not now, obviously had been. He had never seen Sally so animated—certainly not with him. When he had heard the younger man speak to her, then seen him take her in his arms and kiss her, he had been blinded by a red tide of sheer male jealousy—not an emotion he was familiar with, and it had stunned him for a moment. But not any more…

‘Sally, darling.’ He rose to his feet and crossed to her side. ‘You must introduce me to your friend,’ he demanded, fixing the young man with a gimlet-eyed stare.

Suddenly remembering where she was and who she was with, Sally swiftly made the introduction. She saw Al flinch as Zac shook his hand. The man was demonstrating his superior strength like a rutting bull, she though disgustedly. And where did he get off, calling her darling?

Al, ever the gentleman, responded politely. ‘Pleased to meet you Mr Delucca. A shame our meeting has to be so brief.’ He gave Sally an apologetic glance. ‘Sorry, Sally, I can’t stay and talk. You know Dad, he will be waiting outside. champing at the bit to get back to work. I’m going to a house party this weekend, but I will call you next week and we can have dinner and catch up. What do you say?’

It took a brave man to stand up to Delucca, but Al refused to be intimidated and Sally gave her old friend a gentle smile.

‘Yes, that would be lovely,’ she said, and watched him walk out.

She resumed her seat as the waiter arrived with their coffee, her eyes misty with memories of a happier time. Al had never teased her about the stutter she had developed as a child after the death of her grandmother, who had lived with them. He had been her staunch defender and best friend all through her school years. He had attended every birthday party she had, and been a frequent visitor to her home. And she had spent countless summer days playing around the swimming pool at his home, a magnificent thirties-style Art Deco house situated in Sandbanks, overlooking Poole Harbour.

He had been the first boy to kiss her, and he had been as shy as her. The sex side of things had not progressed much further than a few tentative gropes which had made them giggle, and they’d realised they were more brother and sister than lovers.

They had drifted apart since leaving school. She had gone to university in Exeter, while Al had gone to Oxford to study botany, much against his father’s wishes. They had kept in touch, and met up in the holidays occasionally, but with her mum’s illness, gradually their only contact had become the occasional telephone call or chance meeting, like today.

The last time she had seen him had been when they had bumped into each other in Bournemouth and gone for a drink. Al had been all fired up with the Amazon trip he was about to embark on, and had asked Sally to go with him. She had reluctantly refused, explaining that her mum was in the clear, but that she, Sally, was about to start a great new job in London.

It seemed a lifetime ago now…

‘Very touching.’ A deep, mocking voice cut into her memories. ‘Al is an old friend, I take it? Or should I say lover?’

She looked across at Zac, caught the latent anger in his eyes, and realised that beneath the cool, sophisticated exterior he was not pleased. Well, she was not a happy bunny either. She had not wanted to go to lunch with the man in the first place.

‘Say what you like. It is no business of yours.’

‘It is my business. When I take a lady out to lunch I expect her to behave like a lady, not leap up into another man’s arms—a man who yells her name, Sally!—and when he demands “Sal my kiss” proceeds to kiss him.’

Sally was puzzled for a moment, then her blue eyes widened in understanding. Her lips twitched and, unable to help herself, she burst out laughing. Of all the nicknames she had been called at school—salami, or simply sausage being the favourites—no one had ever put that interpretation on her birth name.

‘I’m glad you found it amusing because I didn’t.’ His accent had thickened and the anger in the black eyes that blazed into hers was all too real.

If that was what he had thought, in a way she could see his point, and she decided to tell him the truth.

‘You were mistaken. Al did not ask me for a kiss.’ She grinned. ‘My first name is not Sally but Salmacis.’ She gave him the proper pronunciation, a syllable at a time. ‘Sal-ma-sis.’ And saw disbelief, puzzlement and finally curiosity in his dark eyes.

Zac didn’t know whether to believe her. Salmacis was not a name he had ever heard in any language, and he knew half a dozen. If it was an excuse it was a hell of a good one. Yet she looked sincere, and English was not his first language, he could have been mistaken.

‘Salmacis.’ He rolled the name off his tongue and rather liked it. ‘What kind of name is that?’

‘It is Greek. When my mum was pregnant with me she spent the last four months of her pregnancy on bedrest. She got hooked on reading Greek mythology.’

Then Sally told him the legend. ‘Apparently Salmacis was the nymph of a fountain near Halicarnassus in Asia Minor. She became one with the youth Hermaphroditos. And before you ask, no, I am not a hermaphrodite—but I believe that is the origin of the word.’

‘It never entered my head.’ Zac chuckled. ‘What possessed your mother to give you such a peculiar though rather lovely name?’ he demanded, still smiling broadly. ‘You have to admit it is extremely unusual.’

For a moment Sally was stunned, her heart racing out of control as she met his enquiring gaze. His dark eyes danced with golden lights, his hard face was transformed into a softer, younger version by the brilliance of his smile, and she could not help smiling back at him.

‘I think it was the last fable she read before going into labour, and unfortunately for me it stuck in her mind,’ she said wryly.

‘No, not unfortunate. You are far too exotic—no, that isn’t the word.’ Zac shook his dark head, searching his brain for the English equivalent of what he wanted to say. ‘Your beauty is too unique. No—too mystical for a Sally,’ he declared with satisfaction. ‘Salmacis suits you much better.’ He saw the humour in her expressive eyes. How had he ever thought they were cold?

‘I much prefer Sally—in fact, I insist on it. So be warned—call me Salmacis and I will ignore you.’

‘Okay—Sally,’ he conceded, and added, ‘But I am a little surprised she persuaded your father to agree to such an unusual name. Accountants are not known for their flights of fancy.’

The sparkle vanished from her eyes like a light being switched off, to be replaced with a familiar blank look.

‘She didn’t have to. My dad married Mum because he got her pregnant when she was eighteen and he was thirty-five,’ Sally told Zac. It was the truth. Exhaustion from her hectic work schedule and from worrying about her mother overtook her, and she could not be bothered to dissemble.

‘Apparently, he was so upset when the doctor told him she would not have any more children, no future son, he didn’t much care what name I was given.’

Appalled by Sally’s matter-of-fact revelation, Zac realised her father’s attitude must have hurt her. To actually let the child know how he’d felt was a disgraceful thing to do. But then Nigel Paxton was almost certainly a thief and an unfaithful husband: sensitivity was obviously not his strong point.

‘I think we should leave now.’ Her voice intruded on his thoughts. ‘We are the only couple left.’

Zac had not noticed, but glancing around the room he saw she was right.

When was the last time a woman had held his attention to the exclusion of everything else around him? he asked himself. Never. The realisation shocked him rigid. In that moment he determined there was no way he was going to let it happen again. Sally was as dangerous as she was beautiful, and she was not for him…

‘Finish your coffee and we will go,’ he agreed, and beckoned the maître d’. He handed him a credit card and a bundle of notes for a tip, and after draining his coffee cup stood up.

The meal had turned out okay, despite its difficult start, and he had learnt a lot about Salmacis—too much, he thought wryly. From what he had overheard earlier, Sally obviously knew about her father’s infidelity and resented the fact he had more time for a girlfriend than he had for her. Hence turning up at the office today and demanding her father lunch with her.

Money obviously was not enough for the lovely Salmacis; she was the type who craved attention from the men in her life. Given the reaction of her father to her name, he could understand why she behaved the way she did. But clinging, needy women did not appeal to him, he rationalised, confirming his decision not to see her again.

He glanced down at her. She looked fragile and, act or not, he couldn’t prevent himself from slipping an arm around her waist as he led her out of the restaurant. She made no attempt to pull away, another first, but leant against him as they walked to where the limo was parked a few yards away.

He let the chauffeur help her inside.

She was magic to hold, he thought ruefully as he slipped into the back seat beside her, but every male instinct he possessed told him this was one woman he was going to pass on—for his own preservation.

‘Where would you like us to drop you off?’ he asked. ‘Bond Street? Harrods?’ he suggested, with an edge of cynicism in his tone.

‘Harrods is fine.’

He’d thought as much. A bit of retail therapy was all any woman needed to keep her happy.

She looked up at him with soft blue eyes, and he could not resist. He wrapped an arm around her waist and slid his hand through the silken tumble of her hair to tip up her face.

‘What are you doing?’ she murmured.

‘Oh, I think you know,’ he drawled huskily, and covered her lush lips with his own.

He could not let her go without kissing and tasting her just once, he told himself…

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