The Billionaire's Seduction

The Billionaire’s Seduction By

Kim Rees Triskelion Publishing www.triskelionpublishing.net

Triskelion Publishing 15327 W. Becker Lane Surprise, AZ 85379 Copyright 2005 Kim Rees

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher except, where permitted by law. ISBN 1-933874-30-9 Publisher’s Note. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to a person or persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

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Chapter One Stupid, stupid high heels. Damn it, she was not going to fall flat on her face. Emily straightened, all too aware that her bust stuck out one way and her behind the other. She would have laughed at herself if the situation weren’t so serious. Trembling fingers tightened on the banister rail as she negotiated another thickly carpeted stair. Her chin lifted. She froze. An ornate, full length mirror stretched before her. Heat bled into her face as she met the gaze of the stranger she had become. Her hair, normally swept back into a neat, plain chignon, fell loose and heavy around her bared shoulders. The soft glow of the lights picked out a shimmer of gold in the deep chestnut. She had spent the afternoon in a salon. Her. Plain little Emily Harding in a beauty parlor. It was insane… Make-up masked her skin, darkened her eyes, made her lips look huge, red and ridiculously pouty. And she wasn’t even thinking about the dress. “This is never going to work,” Emily murmured, watching her alien mouth move. She took another cautious step and, despite her best intentions, her gaze slid over the clinging scrap of red silk she wore. Emily knew she was short, knew that her figure was a little too round to be fashionable. “Pleasantly plump” had been her brother’s attempt at being kind. She pointed out that he made her sound like an over-stuffed chicken. Bobby had laughed. “And it’s all his bloody fault,” she muttered. Emily winced at the way the hem slipped farther up her sheer thigh as she attempted another step in her dangerously high and strappy sandals. She let out a slow breath. She couldn’t think like that. The problem was Richard… No. Not going there. Bobby. Bobby was in trouble, serious trouble and she had to help him. “But this is the last time. Absolutely, the last time.” Finally turning away from the disturbing mirror, Emily made hurried down the great sweep of stairs. A nervous foot stepped on to the new problem of slippery smooth marble. “How do others do it?” she said her other foot joining the first. She saw women at work practically on stilts, but walking with a poise and confidence that totally eluded her. Emily’s fingers released the safety of the banister and she practiced standing without support. “Okay, all right. Walking. Been doing that since I was twelve months old.” She could hear the murmur of voices and headed toward it on light feet. Her body wiggled. It actually wiggled. “He’s just going to laugh. Fall on the floor and laugh.” She stood at the open doors and all humor left her. Emily’s palms itched and she curled in her newly painted nails. Nerves tightened her stomach. This was a stupid idea. But she was desperate. And it was far, far too late to stop now. When this was over she would have no job, and hopefully would not be going to prison… but Bobby would be safe. And at that moment, that was her most important consideration. Emily edged into the room. Executives milled about, chatting, laughing, drinking very expensive champagne. No one there to recognize who she really was. She pushed down the thought of one man in particular. A vile old man… No. He wasn’t in the room. A waiter stopped and a smile pulled briefly at his young face. She slipped a fluted glass from the polished tray and gripped it tight in her hand. Murmuring a thank you, she moved away from his sharp gaze. Her eyes trailed over the opulent room, noting the priceless paintings, the beauty of the restored neo-classical décor. She remembered to breathe. The plan seemed more

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ridiculous than ever. Throwing herself at her boss in the hope of gaining access to information. What the hell was Richard thinking? Emily stared down at the crystal glass in her nerveless fingers, watching the rush of bubbles. Jake Penvenhan. A man whose reputation with women was legendary; a man who liked them tall and stick thin. Yes, what had possessed Richard? Her gaze darted back to the safety the open doors offered. Leaving, hiding in her assigned changing room. That was a real plan. She would just have to find some other way to get what Bobby needed— “Emily Harding?” Her head snapped back. “Mr. Lucas. Hello.” A plastic smile fastened onto her mouth. Anton Lucas’ pale eyes slid from her face and lingered on her too generous cleavage. Her skin itched and she resisted the urge to point out that the breasts came with her attached. “I almost didn’t recognize you.” “Really?” His attention shifted with obvious reluctance back to her face. Emily did not like the hot gleam of his interest. Anton Lucas also had a reputation on the thirtieth floor. And it wasn’t a good one. “You’ve not attended one of the Penvenhan functions before?” “First time,” she said brightly. “I’m standing in for Kate. Something went horribly wrong with her diary system. She had to stay in the office.” Emily shrugged and instantly wished she hadn’t as Anton’s mouth curled into a smile. She wanted to get away. His gaze was peeling off what little clothing she wore. Her glass. When had she emptied it? But at least it was an excuse. Emily waved a manicured finger. “I just have to get…” She edged away. And then her words dried. Jake Penvenhan, standing in the doorway. Frowning. At her. Emily was a very junior assistant to his PA, Kate Macguire, so her image of Jake Penvenhan had been limited to his occasional sweep past her cluttered desk. Now he stood only a few feet away and her view was all too clear. Tall, stretching inches over six foot; lithe, elegant, in a dinner suit that screamed its expense. A very male face, all hard planes and angles. She knew the stories about him; about the numerous women in his life. Richard had assured her that one more woman… Dark, dark eyes trapped her and any hope of her plan succeeding just melted away. He was devastating. Emily felt her heart hammering in her chest, the intense burn of color in her face. She knew she was just a short, dumpy, naïve woman in a too small frock. And, damn it, she should not be reacting to him that way. Not after what his family had done to hers. The hard glitter in his eyes mocked her. He knew. He knew. Emily’s gaze dropped. She was a complete and utter idiot. “A drink. I need a drink.” “Let me.” Anton took the glass from her hand. His fingers brushed hers and Emily twitched involuntarily. All too soon, another glass slipped into her numb fingers. “This is an interesting new look for you.” Her head snapped up. She stared and then realized she was doing a fantastic impression of a goldfish. “Mr. Penvenhan.” She hoped her smile was natural, but her lips felt like wax. “You have a very beautiful home.” Jake’s eyes made her pale skin burn. A hard edge cut that dark gaze and Emily knew then it was a mistake to cross this man. Vainly, she wished she had a choice.

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“I hear Kate’s trapped in the office.” His voice slipped over her skin, smooth, like warm honey. Emily took a gulp of champagne and tried to keep her expression normal. “Her bank of computers imploded.” She found Jake’s focus narrowed on her and she realized that her usual glib answers weren’t good enough for her boss. She thought about shrugging. No. Too obvious. Yeah, like she wasn’t that already. “Kate built the system. She’s probably the only one who can fix it.” “Something I should worry about?” “No. So…I offered to come in her place.” Emily knew her smile was too wide. “Is there anything that you need me to do for you, Mr. Penvenhan?” A sudden flare lit Jake’s cinnamon—dark eyes, a brief, knowing smile tugging at his firm mouth. The reaction took Emily by surprise. Her breath caught at the sudden curl of heat low in her belly. She hadn’t meant it like that. She hadn’t. Really. “We’ll see, shall we, Emily?” She stared. This was Jake Penvenhan. And he knew her name… He couldn’t be interested in her. She blinked. Could he? Her insides twisted with anxiety. She was not calling it panic. She wasn’t… Deep down she had never thought he would find her remotely attractive. She had to admit that now. To see the shine of what she nervously labeled… lust… in his expression. It scared her. And that smile. She felt too much like a mouse caught in the claws of a cat. One that was in the mood to play… “Excuse me.” “Yes, of course.” Her voice sounded breathy and Emily cringed. Jake moved away into the crowd and the bands contracted around Emily’s chest eased. She had not been prepared for the impact of the man. Had thought herself immune, that her past with his family, her hate… Emily laughed at herself. She was overacting. It was just nerves. Men didn’t affect her like that. Never had. She watched the hard faces of his senior management slide into simpering masks, all eager to curry favor with the man who paid their salaries. She bit at her lower lip when Jake’s dark, intense gaze stayed too long on one of his executives. Amanda Logan. Tall, slender, so beautifully pale and silvered blonde. A silken, cream shift dress accentuated her classic angel looks. “Aiming high, Emily?” “Sorry?” A shadow darkened Anton’s face. “Jake Penvenhan.” “I don’t know what you mean.” “You’re wasting your time.” His voice was cool, matter of fact. He took a sip of his champagne and let his gaze slide away from her. “His quota’s full this month.” Panic and disgust warred within her. The man had to know more about Jake Penvenhan’s life than she ever could. Anton Lucas was head of Finance, traveled the world with his step brother. But to be labeled a commodity. Emily was already uneasy with what she had to do. Anton’s words made her feel cheap. “I’m sure I could fit you in,” Anton murmured. Yes, Anton suited his sleazy reputation. His stare grazed her skin again and Emily felt the flush rising. Sometimes she wished she didn’t have a little brother to get her into one mess after another. “No.” She swallowed, wanting to strengthen her voice. “Thank you. You’re mistaken. I’m not looking for anything, from anyone.”

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Anton’s narrow lips pursed, then he growled: “He won’t look twice at you.” Emily found a strange humor in his statement rather than insult. And she was taking some small pleasure from Anton’s anger at her rejection. “Mr. Lucas, I know he wouldn’t.” She enjoyed the brief wash of disbelief on his sharp face.” Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Emily left before he could speak. Jake Penvenhan seemed to be interested. Nervous fear twisted through her insides. That fact surprised her more than anything. Only one man had ever—Emily cut out that thought. Food. She needed food to counteract the champagne she seemed to be throwing down her throat. Emily stared at the array of cocktail nibbles. She risked some of the delicate pastries and poured herself a glass of sparkling iced water. It was a relief to her parched mouth. A prickle of awareness ran down her spine. She didn’t want to turn. She didn’t… Jake Penvenhan held the champagne flute to his lips, appeared to be drinking, listening to the prattle of his companion. But Emily knew that all of his attention arrowed to her. She felt the blood rise under her cheeks and cursed the naïve reaction. Hardly that of a practiced vamp… More water ran cold down her throat and she tried to calm the panicked beat of her heart. The shine in his eyes; a promise. He tilted his champagne flute. Damn the man, he knew he made her nervous. Emily straightened and met his smile with an arch one of her own. She had to remember it was a game, that teasing interest from Jake Penvenhan would ensure her access to the information she needed. Her gaze slid away, slipped to the rush of bubbles in her glass. She made the smile linger on her lips. Was she being provocative? Or obvious? Emily wished she knew what she was doing. Always a good student, she had read and reread everything she could find on flirting… seducing… She thought she had the courage to handle it. Those books had never had a man like Jake Penvenhan in mind. “Something amusing?” Panic shot to her toes. It took all of the courage she had left to lift her head. His gaze impacted hers. Emily’s mouth dried. And she couldn’t stop the fingers that trembled over her exposed throat. She prayed that the heat in her face wasn’t that obvious. “It’s just that… this isn’t my normal Saturday night.” “How so?” He was so close. Too close. The subtle scent of his cologne wove through her senses. She resisted the urge to breathe him in. Why did Jake Penvenhan have to smell good too? Emily’s mind stumbled back to his question. “I usually curl up with a book and I’m in bed by ten.” “Really?” Jake murmured. The single word licked at her senses. Emily knew she was out of her depth. Only a few minutes in Jake’s company had proven that. Nervousness made the tip of her tongue touch her upper lip. And then Jake’s gaze fixed there. Emily felt the pulse of her heated blood concentrate in her mouth. It was completely insane. In that instant, she wanted nothing more than to taste Jake Penvenhan. In front of all of the senior executives; the hired staff. Everyone. She felt no shame. None. She had to break the silence. Quickly, she pulled her thoughts together. “K—Kate had to practically break my arm,” Emily stumbled on. “But she impressed on me the fact

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that you prefer to have a member of your personal staff here.” Her chin lifted. ”And this dress didn’t fit Andrew.” “It’s not his color either.” Emily straightened, feeling her confidence returning. “So, her choice this morning was either me, or me.” “I’ve always admired Kate’s decision making.” Confidence withered under Jake’s wry tone. “So…” Emily tore her eyes away from his sharp gaze and she swallowed back in a suddenly dry throat. Her mind was blank. She scanned the room, desperate to grasp at any topic. The damn man had her tongue-tied. And that wasn’t her. Normally, she could gabble for England. “This is a monthly event?” She stopped herself from wincing. Hardly a riveting topic. Her eyes fixed on Amanda Logan, charming one of her colleagues. Soft lamplight washed over her pale perfection. So poised. So elegant. She felt the complete frump. “I’m here with you, Emily.” The softly spoken words melted heat through her body. She was just dumpy Emily… Liquid fire pooling low in her pelvis and the aching need to run her fingers over the perfect, perfect curve of his bottom lip, to find the inner heat of his tongue. “Why?” Damn. Mouth working without the benefit of her brain again. But the idea of kissing Jake… She had to taste him; feel the slight rasp of his stubble under her searching mouth, nibble, bite at that perfect lip— “Because your eyes are eating me alive.” His attention flicked away and then came back. “We’ll continue this very interesting discussion later,” he murmured. “I promise.” “Yes.” The word breathed out on too little air. Jake turned away and the room rushed in. The low murmur of voices; clinking glasses; and Emily’s riot of embarrassment. Her fingers tightened around the cold glass. She’d just… melted… into a warm, sticky puddle. All higher brain function had ceased. She had to remember that it wasn’t real. She had a job to do. Couldn’t go all wobbly and misty-eyed over the man. That she should feel nothing but hate for him. Especially after what had happened to her father. But her body, her thoughts were traitors. Involuntarily, her hungered gaze followed him across the room. No. She felt nothing. No matter how delicious— “Listen to yourself,” Emily muttered. “Not my thoughts at all. Too little food. Too much champagne.” She gulped back the cold, sparkling water. Yes. Better. She was in control again, could smile at her over reaction. “Ms. Harding?” Emily stitched her social mask back into place and met the polite gaze of a waiter. “If you would like to take your seat?” “Of course.” Her steadied hand put her glass of water on the nearby table and she followed the slow exodus of guests into another beautiful room. Emily tried not to stare at the intricate molding, whose shadows flickered in the wash of golden candlelight. High windows looked out onto sculpted gardens and the fading spring light. Her gaze moved to the long table. Crisp white linen. The gleam of antique silverware. Crystal shone. She could have happily stood and admired… but people were already pulling out chairs. Nails curled into her palms. Everyone seemed to know their place.

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“Ms. Harding?” The same polite waiter pulled out a chair. “Thank you,” Emily murmured, arranging herself on the soft seat. “Would you like another glass of water?” “Please.” Emily tried not to fidget, to keep the tension from hunching her shoulders. She had an act to maintain. It would hardly support her image as a socially adept, sophisticated woman if she showed her unease over simply being waited on… The chair next to her pulled back. “Hello again, Emily.” Her stomach tightened. “Mr. Lucas.” “Anton, please.” His voice sent an unpleasant shiver over her skin. “Anton.” “I was hoping that you would get Kate’s place.” Emily’s heart sank. She would have to spend the entire meal fighting off Anton Lucas’s wandering hands. Idly, she wondered whether pouring cold water over his head now would stop him. Her nails tapped against her glass— “I see you already know each other.” Jake Penvenhan. Emily prayed again that the color rising under her cheeks wasn’t noticeable. She wanted to deny that she knew Anton Lucas, but nothing clever or witty came to mind. She could only watch as Jake sat next to her, his gaze briefly distracted by the waiter who poured his wine. Emily pushed down her panic. Next to her. Sitting next to her. Oh God. Candlelight edged the sharp plane of his jaw, spread a gleam of gold over his brown skin. She couldn’t help herself. She drank in his hard beauty and should’ve looked away when Jake caught her staring. Should have. But couldn’t. Emily felt every breath swell and contract her lungs, heard her heart over-loud in her ears. She had to look away… Gleaming eyes speared her. Firm lips twitched and, God, she wanted to cover them with her own, tease them apart and let her tongue— “Something wrong, Emily?” A voice softer than velvet. She had to reply but her mouth was dry. All her plans were shot to hell. She swallowed. “Emily?” Her name on his lips heated her blood. It was stupid to react to any man like this, and insanity with this man. Her mouth moved before her brain kicked in. Again. “Are men’s eyelashes supposed to be that long?” Emily heard the words as if spoken by someone else and cringed. Jake blinked. Then a reluctant smile spread into a grin. “I wasn’t aware there was a legal limit.” Emily’s face felt too hot. Stupid thing to say. Stupid. Now he thought she was a complete idiot. And it wasn’t fair. He was more handsome when he smiled. She shrugged and couldn’t stop herself saying: “It’s a new directive from the EU.” “I assume there’s a price to pay…” His voice eased under her skin. “There’s always a forfeit.” She hadn’t meant for her own voice to come out like that; a soft huskiness that just wasn’t her. The humor in his face faded and was replaced by an… intensity… that made Emily’s

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heart thud. Something about it made her want to run. “Good,” he murmured. His mouth curved. Speculative. Knowing. “I look forward to it.” Amanda Logan’s hand on his arm distracted him. Emily didn’t know whether to be angry or grateful. She let out a slow breath and stared down at the soup that had appeared before her. It scared her that she had missed the waiter completely. “Seems I was wrong.” Emily formed her features into a polite mask. “Sorry, Anton?” He examined his face in the back of his gleaming soup spoon. “Jake is interested.” He pulled his gaze away from his reflection and sharp eyes held hers. “Odd.” Emily thought about throwing water over him anyway. Her smile was bright. “Perhaps his quota’s not as full as you thought.” She picked up her spoon. She ate like an automaton. Asparagus with a hint of truffle. She wished she could enjoy her meal, but her own words had taken the edge off her appetite. She hadn’t expected the force of her attraction to Jake Penvenhan. And to know that she was just one in the multitude. Emily didn’t want to label it hurt. She hardly knew him. She wanted to ignore the man beside her but caught him laughing at something Amanda said. Unsettled. Yes, that was better. Less emotional. No suggestion of feelings for a man like Jake Penvenhan. Now, that would be stupid. ***** Jake stabbed at a crab cake. Emily Harding had changed the rules. So be it. Gone was the prim woman, hidden behind a cluttered desk as she practiced invisibility for the six weeks she had worked under Kate. To then find her happily drinking and chatting with Anton, all deception apparently forgotten. Didn’t they think he’d question Emily’s sudden and startling transformation? Did they take him for a fool? His fork speared another golden crust. Obviously they did. Damn it, he shouldn’t have been surprised by this turn. But seeing them, seeing her. The tracing of golden light over pale skin, over the inviting curves, the clinging scrap of that red dress. Long legs lengthened by impossible heels. Half the waiters were still drooling. But it was her eyes that held him. The color of smoke, of mist, and just as elusive. No. That shy, breathy nonsense hadn’t fooled him either. Anyone who had the gall to mess with him, to think that he could be manipulated. The woman knew exactly what she was doing. That look in her eyes. The one that she’d let slip, forgetting the nervous façade. Passion. Offering herself. Jake shifted in his seat, his trousers suddenly uncomfortably tight. He quieted those thoughts. They were for… later. No. Anton had hired her; but he couldn’t believe his stepbrother had the intelligence to… offer up… a woman like this. And that put another twist on his problem. Someone else was working with Anton. Jake closed his eyes. There was that hint of her scent again; the soft vanilla of her perfume, the light herbal fragrance of her hair and something else. Something that tightened his gut. Again. “So Emily.” Those gray eyes impacted his, almost liquid silver in the soft glow of the candlelight. Her bared shoulder was only inches away from his and his fingertips burned to touch… “These affairs were a normal part of your last job?” She could make

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herself blush at will. It was an impressive part of the gauche act and she knew that it made her look achingly vulnerable. “No. I was far too far down the food chain for that.” His returning smile was automatic, something he couldn’t control. It annoyed him. “So you were the office Cinderella.” Her husky laugh had him grinning. Damn it. “More like the office pumpkin.” “Never that.” And she blushed again. “Kate said it was a firm of accountants.” Her fork toyed with a crust, but she didn’t eat it. “Financial services,” she said. “Just a small company.” She looked up, her face shining with mischief. “Is this the time to point out how happy I am in my job?” Jake had followed up on her file. The “small company” hadn’t heard of an Emily Harding; the young receptionist had been quite insistent. Anton really should have caught that. “Very wise.” “I thought so.” “And it was the same position?” “Junior assistant? Yes.” Jake glanced at the waiter as he took away the second course and then he turned back to Emily. She was looking up. The soft line of her jaw caught him; creamy smooth skin, so pale it was almost translucent. To taste her… He bit back a wicked grin. Emily had changed the rules. Jake pushed his mind back. “But you have a degree in languages.” Not a flicker. Jake had to be impressed. The information proved that he knew something of her background, that he could uncover her lies. “You didn’t want to take that further?” “You sound like my brother,” she murmured. She thanked the waiter who placed the main course before her. Jake noticed the gleam of interest in the young man’s gaze. His eyes narrowed. Completely unprofessional. He wouldn’t be working in his house again. “Is that bad?” Something flickered in her face, quickly suppressed. “Just the typical annoying little brother.” Jake resisted the urge to look at Anton. A stepbrother by his father’s fifth marriage. And a thorn in his side for the entire six months he’d worked at Penvenhan International. Emily Harding was the latest manifestation. Damn his father for saying that the company was a family firm, and since Anton Lucas was now family that he should, of course, be a part of the Company. Why should he have felt any loyalty to his father after what Frederick Penvenhan had done to him? Jake knew he should have followed his gut instinct about the man. “So why haven’t you followed his advice?” “Twenty questions, Mr. Penvenhan?” “Jake,” he said with a smile, making Emily drop her gaze. She kept up the act every second. He had to push it because she was a liar and a thief. He had the evidence of her breaking into his office captured on video. “And I could hardly ignore you, Emily. Not when the evening is going to get so much more interesting…” She stared at him, a slash of red over her cheeks. “I—” “Can you deny it?” Emily’s eyes didn’t meet his. He saw the rapid pulse in her exposed throat. “No,” she murmured. Her hand tightened around her knife, knuckles showing white. She swallowed and

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Jake had the impression that she wanted to run. It was an award winning performance. Yes. He would find out who she was working for. And Emily had chosen the method. He’d spent the first part of the evening simply playing her. Now, he would use cold, clinical seduction. Oh, there would be no rules with this woman. And he would play to win.

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Chapter Two Emily almost yelped the first time he touched her. Anton Lucas had monopolized her attention during the rest of the main course and she didn’t know whether to kick him or thank him. She could only think that it was deliberate. Jake had shown an interest… and that still felt very strange… and so Anton was being vindictive. Emily’s insides were in a tight knot by the time dessert arrived. Jake’s words still had her rattled. She had planned to tease, but to keep her distance. Jake Penvenhan had changed that. And it scared her. What would he expect? Her spoon toyed with the apple sorbet, chased the berries around the plate. So much delicious food… She hadn’t eaten like this since she was a teenager. No. Emily put away that memory. She bit at her lip. Or had Jake Penvenhan just been laughing at her? Laughing at a woman who thought she could attract a man like him. Her eyes closed. It really couldn’t get any worse. The light brush of a fingertip against her inner thigh made her start. She only just avoided leaping up like a scalded cat. Emily’s teeth bit at her lower lip. Still. If she sat perfectly still… but Jake was too close. The curve of the dining table pushed them together. More fingers traced over her skin and she could feel the full heat of his palm. A simple touch, but her breath caught in her throat. Unexpected sensation pulsed along her nerves and she tried not to gasp. “Emily?” Her gaze shot to Anton and she hoped he wouldn’t question the flush to her face. She had to believe that he couldn’t see exactly what Jake was doing. Her smile felt unreal. “Sorry, what did you say?” A warm hand slipping along the cool skin of her thigh, toying with the silken hem of her dress. The aching press of Jake’s clever fingertips. She really should stop— “You’ve done this before.” “Excuse me?” The words were almost a squeak. Anton’s eyes narrowed. Emily supposed that women fawned over him. Or at least he thought they should. “A dinner party like this. You just said your family—” “No.” Damn it, she must have been rambling. “Well, foster family.” She smiled, noting the surprised look that flickered over his face.” A long time ago.” A lazy eight sketched over sensitized skin chased away all thought. Muscles tightened low in her pelvis; tightened and ached. The murmur of Jake’s voice eased over her. Just holding a normal conversation about his plans for the estate. Nothing in his voice; nothing to say where his hand was… Emily closed her eyes and her fingers tightened around her dessert fork. Did he know how close she was to losing control? She wanted to rip his hand away; allow herself to regain some composure. But the thought of him stopping that slow, easy slide of his fingers. And she ached for him to do more than simply caress her thigh. Emily didn’t want to think about how crazy her life had gotten in the past month; the mess Richard Stokes had made of it. She’d been quite happy tucked away in her little corner of a large bookshop. There’d been no tall, devastatingly handsome billionaires. No internal panic over what to do about his clever fingers weaving their magic over her thigh.

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Her heart thumped. But this was the job she’d been sent in to do. To push herself into Jake Penvenhan’s personal life; to find and make copies of anything to do with something called “Phaeton.” Emily’s breathing evened. Her brother was in hospital, put there by Richard because she’d refused to help him with this stupid scheme. She should have remembered. Richard had always been ruthless. She had no choice. Emily’s heart was in her throat. Table conversation buzzed around her and fear pulsed. Did others know? She fought that embarrassment. Her hand moved to cover Jake’s. Nervous. Unsure. And she tried to forget the sudden flash of electricity, the burn as her fingertips ran lightly over the back of his hand. The strength there, smooth, firm skin, a light dusting of hair. Jake paused. Was that a catch in his voice now? Nerves and satisfaction warred within her. And then she bit down on a gasp as Jake’s fingers slipped, slid higher. This had to stop. It really had to… But to deny the tightness of her flesh was impossible. She fought the shallow breaths; kept her eyes open and she hoped, focused. Thoughts whirled. She imagined dragging Jake out of the room, finding a dark, private corner. Finding out what it was like when he really touched her. And then he would discover how inexperienced she was. That thought briefly cooled her rising want. Richard had said that her invented past was convincing, water tight. But nothing could hide how little contact she’d had with men. Jake’s fingertips still explored her skin, slowly, slowly, circling closer, closer to where she ached for his touch. She shouldn’t do this, should have some sense of decency. But her reaction to Jake Penvenhan had her spinning out of control. No man had affected her like this. She had wanted him the minute their eyes met. And that was insane. Her stomach tightened and she tried not to squirm in her seat, needing him to touch— Gone. His hand, his touch, everything. Emily nearly hit him. But then shame rushed in. She put her fork on her plate, just before the waiter took it away. Her fingers fiddled with her linen napkin. Emily had wanted, welcomed his touch. And something about that filled her with self loathing. The Penvenhans had destroyed her father; drove her family into poverty. And worse. Yet she seemed happy to jump into bed with one of them. The thought scalded her cheeks. “Emily?” It wasn’t fair, it really wasn’t. Just his voice spread goose bumps in a wild rush over her skin. Vainly, she wished she could just get up from the table, jump in a taxi and speed home. Hiding under her duvet would be heaven. But she had to protect Bobby. Emily held back a sigh. She always had to protect Bobby. She drew a smile on her face and met Jake’s gaze. All thought fled. That wicked smile. The heat of desire in his eyes. Emily felt her skin flare in response and saw satisfaction reflected in his gaze. Some part of her brain remembered that she had to tease. And she also had her pride. Turning to mush just because he smiled at her? Her brain sharpened. How pathetic was that?

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An eyebrow lifted. “Yes, Jake?” The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. She could almost read his thought, So, it’s going to be like that, is it? “How was dessert?” Emily sat back in her chair. She was being cool; she was being sophisticated. Her heart pounded. “Pleasant enough, I suppose.” “Really?” Jake threw his napkin on the table and scraped his chair back. Fear and anticipation skittered down her spine. Emily had to fight the urge to shrink away… and found Jake’s sharp smile. “They’re serving coffee in the Summer Room,” he said. The words were out before she realized. “You enjoy playing with me—” Her mouth bit down on any more idiocy that might escape. How stupid could she get? This wasn’t the teasing facade she was supposed to present to him. Jake’s smile was almost predatory. “Oh, I’m sure I will,” he said. And then he offered his arm to Amanda Logan and left the table. Emily remembered to breathe. That statement alone would have made any sane woman run. Yeah. Right. To attract the interest of a man like Jake Penvenhan; rich, handsome and with that undercurrent of darkness. The unspoken promise of pleasure, there in the gleam of his cinnamon—gold eyes. And that wicked smile. No woman in her right mind would, could refuse him. “He’ll chew me up and spit me out,” she muttered. Thankfully, the table was almost empty. No one there to overhear her rash words. She sighed and pushed herself on to her feet. At least she had lost the pleasure of Anton Lucas’ company. She saw him leave the dining room, locked in a heated discussion with one of the overseas executives. A few quiet moments, just to settle her system for the next battle. A member of the staff pointed her in the direction of the nearest loo. A smile pulled at her mouth. This was not the way she’d planned to lose her virginity. Richard Stokes had had plans for that. Emily shuddered. No. She was not going back to that memory either. She opened the door to a spacious room and locked it behind her. Soft lamp light shone over pale walls, the white porcelain of the long sink gleamed. Emily slipped out of her shoes, letting her bare toes dig into the deep, soft rug set before a washed silk armchair. She sank into the chair. “Not much of a plan, anyway,” she murmured. “Just someone gentle to be my first lover.” She stared down at her toes and willed back the tears. She didn’t cry. She never cried. Damn Richard for this. He had always thrown her life into confusion. Though that was nothing compared to what Jake Penvenhan was doing to her. To react as she did to a man she should hate. To want him— Emily sprang up. She couldn’t think on that. She caught her alien image in the long mirror, also saw the reflection of a wall clock. She turned to stare at it. Only nine thirty. Her heart skittered. Guests would start to leave around midnight and then Jake would want to play. Her stomach twisted. She told herself it was fear and revulsion. Not anticipation. Not desire. She blinked. “He has an office here. I could sort all of this tonight. Find the rest of

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Phaeton and then run.” It was a plan. It would save Bobby. And her. No. She wasn’t calling that emotion disappointment. Emily pulled back the door and peered out. The house felt eerily quiet. Her hand eased off the door handle and she forced herself to move forward. Her heels clicked. Hasty fingers pulled the sandals free. There wasn’t much time. And then all that she could hear was her fast breathing and the slap of her feet on the wood block floor. ***** Emily could imagine getting caught and trying to explain why she was running barefoot along the corridor, shoes in hand. And she hadn’t anticipated just how huge the house was. An ornate grandfather clock chimed the hour. Damn. She was taking too long. Her excuse of looking for a toilet was starting to wear very thin. Another door. A library. She had to be close. Richard had definitely said this wing. Laughter drifted down the long corridor and Emily jumped. There was no mistaking the distinctive clack of shoes, growing louder. Voices. She had to hide. Emily burst into the next room. She let out a slow breath and leaned back against the door. What the…? The concentrated glare of overhead lights shining down on green baize and the distinctive clink of billiard balls. And then her world tipped as a man stepped out of the shadows. “What kept you?” Jake said. “Mr. Penvenhan!” “I thought we decided on Jake.” “Jake,” she repeated. Her hand reached blindly back for the door knob. “I got lost. I didn’t realize the house was quite so big.” She waved her shoes vaguely towards the door. ”I really should be getting back.” “Want to play?” She managed to squeak: “Excuse me?” Jake held up his cue. ”Billiards,” he said. “I don’t know how.” Emily knew she should tease him with the idea that she would love him to show her. But any thoughts about continuing the deception had fled. The safety of the dining room was gone. She was alone with him. Totally alone. “Come here, Emily.” “Won’t your guests wonder where you are?” “This is why I have a member of staff here.” A reprieve? ”Then I should—” Emily backed away. “Amanda’s taking care of them.” “Of course,” she murmured. ”So,” she let out a slow breath, “what do I do?” “Here.” Jake gave her his cue and Emily’s fingers numbly held it. The polished wood was warm. She watched him pull out another cue from the rack. All right, now they were going to play billiards. She doubted that her life could get any more strange. “Put your shoes down.” Emily flushed and her smile fell away. Obediently, she dropped her shoes onto a convenient chair. In her bare feet, she saw how impossibly tall Jake was. She let herself drink him in. He had lost his dinner jacket and tie and had rolled the sleeves of his dress

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shirt. Bared forearms, sinewy muscle, golden brown with a light dusting of dark hair. And those hands. The memory of long fingers on her cool skin burst back— “So you’re a billiards virgin?” Emily held his gaze and felt her will drain away. “Not for much longer.” “Then let me introduce you to straight rail.” Emily blinked and stared down at the table. There were just three billiard balls. “Should I ask?” “Carom billiards,” Jake said, and he sent the white ball ricocheting around the table. He straightened, and stood away. A silent order to stand in front of him. Emily tried to push away her nerves. At least she wasn’t wearing her stilettos in such thick carpet. “The aim is to strike the yellow and then the red with the white. You lose a point if the red and the yellow hit each other. The first one to reach fifty wins.” “That sounds simple.” “Yes, it does, doesn’t it. Care to try?” Emily couldn’t admit that she didn’t even know how to hold the cue. If she did that then Jake, with a curl of a smile, would offer to help her. She could imagine the slide of his arms, his hands over hers; the full press of his body. Briefly, she closed her eyes, glad that he was behind her. She was too nervous. And deep down, she wanted his touch. She rested the cue on her splayed hand and leaned forward. The edge of the billiard table dug into her stomach and unthinking, she shifted back. She stopped She had just wiggled her behind at him. Jake’s low laugh had the blood already in her face scorching. “You have an unfair advantage, Emily.” Emily ground her teeth. The cue slammed the white, blasted against the yellow and caught the red on the rebound. She jerked straight. “Hidden talents?” Jake said, his eyebrow raised. “My unfair advantage.” He waved at the tabletop. “It’s still your shot.” He stepped back and Emily lost his face to shadow. “Should we make this game interesting?” Anxiety crawled into her nerves endings. Her hand tightened around her cue and she forced out words. “How so?” “A wager.” “Jake, how long have you played billiards?” His voice was amused, Emily thought almost smug. “Since I was eight.” “So you’ve got… twenty eight years more experience. It’s hardly a fair bet.” “I know. So?” “Do I have a choice?” She tagged a smile onto her words, realizing how bitter they sounded. She’d forgotten the role she must play. Jake moved and the light caught his face in jagged shadows. “There’s always choice, Emily.” Not for me… but the words went unsaid. She leaned back against the billiard table and sighed. “What’s the stake?” “You.” Emily’s fingers curled around the smooth edge of the table and her heart contracted. The situation was suddenly very real and a riot of emotion rushed her. She held Jake’s eyes. Burning, gleaming almost black. “Me, Jake?”

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An eyebrow rose and his gaze speared her. “What else could you offer?” There was something in his voice, an undercurrent. He couldn’t know. Richard had assured her… She wasn’t panicking. She wasn’t. Hastily she resurrected her sense of humor. “There’s always cake. I make the best chocolate—” “We’re both curious, Emily.” Jake’s finger traced over her lower lip and all rambling stopped. “Just a taster to see whether the bet is worth it…” His soft, deep voice wove through her senses and heat pooled low in her belly. Emily closed her eyes, needing to deny the ache, the desire for him. There should be revulsion; the thought that she was a martyr, doing her duty to protect her brother. But the delicate brush of his fingers over the shell of her ear, the curve of her jaw, caressing her throat tempted her. Her skin scorched wherever he touched her. A wash of guilt had her eyes crushed tighter. “Jake, I really shouldn’t…” She tried to twist away, but the edge of the billiard table caught her, pressed into her spine. Jake held her chin between his finger and thumb. Her eyes shot open. “Still teasing me, Emily?” he asked softly. She pulled in a shallow breath. Golden light played over his sharp face, a smile quirking his firm lips. And his eyes. Dark, endless, gleaming. No man had the right to be that perfect, that beautiful. Emily told herself that she should get it over with… and knew that was a lie. She bathed in the heat of his body, drew in his scent with every breath. Against her conscience, she wanted Jake Penvenhan. Guilt was for the morning. “No,” she said. Jake took the cue from her lax fingers and laid it, with his own, across the table. “Good.” Emil gasped when Jake’s large hands closed around her waist and effortlessly lifted her. “What—” He settled her on the cool wooden edge of the billiard table. “Comfortable?” Emily’s fear almost broke out. Her sexual experience consisted of a few fumbled kisses. Nothing had prepared her for a man like Jake Penvenhan… and what he would expect. “I’m not going to eat you, Emily.” That smile should come with a health warning, be banned by the Geneva Convention. “Yet.” Emily knew she’d flushed to the roots of her hair and that only seemed to amuse him more. His fingers delayed on her hot cheek. “Amazing,” he murmured. She wanted to ask what he meant by that, but his hands had drifted down to her thighs. Her teeth bit at her lower lip. The smooth, confident stroke of his fingers; the pressure of his thumbs on her inner thigh. And then he gently, firmly parted her legs. Emily’s fingers took a nerveless grip on the edge of the table. She told herself that she should… “Relax.” “I am relaxed.” “You’re taking chunks out of the table.” Emily deliberately flexed her fingers. “I’m scared of falling off.” “Is this better?”

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She wanted to say worse. He had taken a step closer and she became achingly aware of her bare thighs brushing his hips, of how he pressed so close, so close that she could almost feel… “Yes.” “Good.” She pushed away the panic when he tilted her chin. Jake’s voice was no more than a murmur. “Now for that taster.” A surge of electricity swept Emily with the first, brief contact of his lips on hers. She gasped, her lips parting. Jake’s lips continued the slow caress, tasting her, his tongue flickering against her teeth. And then his warm fingers on the coolness of her neck, throat, shoulders. Stroking. Exploring. Her hands balled tight, denying herself the right to touch him. His large hand brushed her hip, urging her closer. She really shouldn’t…But her mind was spinning and unthinking; she arched her spine. The shock of contact awoke something in her. A heat, a need… It swept away the guilt. She opened her mouth. Jake’s hand tightened on her hip and he crushed her to his chest, molding her body to his. Emily wanted to lose herself in this man. She knew it was wrong but she wanted more; oh God, so much more… Her fingers threaded through his dark hair, her other hand clutching at his shirt. Her head felt light, dizzy. The clever tongue that curled, tangled with her own, the sweet taste of wine. She couldn’t ignore the pressure, building low in her pelvis, wanted to embrace it. The slow friction of her hips, his only heightened her need. Her hand slid down his body, drove him harder against her. This wasn’t her. It wasn’t. But she didn’t care. If he would just, would just— Jake tore away with a curse. Emily stared. And then slowly shriveled. Her eyes dropped and she looked at her dress with horror. Trembling fingers pulled it back to a decent length over her legs. Hastily, she slipped off the table. She had to get away. He had been playing with her, seeing how far he could push the stupid, dumpy woman. And she had exposed herself completely. “I should be getting—” What the hell had just happened? Without thinking, Jake’s hand shot out to take Emily’s arm. “Where d’you think you’re going?” She was biting her lip, her pulse rapid at the base of her throat. Color still rose through her cheeks. Damn it, he’d had enough of the innocent act. That little show had proven how false it was. “I think the bet’s off,” she said The tentative smile only made his gut tighten. What had she done to him? It was supposed to be something clinical, something that bound her to him. He knew how to please a woman but that first touch had him needing more. He could still feel the imprint of her soft body over his; his hands, fingers still remembered every delicious curve. Jake scratched at his hair. His eyes narrowed. “Far from it.” He watched her swallow. “But—” “A taster.” He never lost control and he wouldn’t now. He didn’t deny that he was attracted to Emily Harding. That was obvious. The taste of her on his tongue still had him hard. A burst of… lust… had surprised him. That was all. “But escape if you want, Emily.” He saw the war in her face even as she backed away. Unless that was more of her act, she had been as overwhelmed—Jake mentally frowned at that word. Not

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overwhelmed. It was surprise. As surprised at the rush of desire. “I should… go.” She grabbed her shoes and slammed the door behind her. Jake stared after her. Who the hell was she? He had assumed that she was one of Anton’s women, dressed down to avoid suspicion. But then the transformation. She became something out of his stepbrother’s league. Yet, it was more than that. Damn his security. Sarah had said she was having trouble with Emily’s aliases. Aliases. The woman had aliases. Jake snapped the cues back into their places on the rack. Before he knew what she was, he had liked Emily Harding. Had heard her laughing, joking with others when he passed her desk. Then there was that smile… His palm slammed at the light switch and he yanked at the door that connected to his office. His instincts had initially failed him with Emily. But now they were back, as sharp as ever. He’d known she would try to access his office. He’d made his excuses almost immediately to Amanda, tracking Emily using the internal security cameras. Jake dropped into his chair. Weary fingers patched into that system again. He watched her running, her image chased by one camera after another. She had fooled him and that thought burned his gut. “I’ll find out who you are, Emily Harding,” he murmured. “And then whatever Anton’s paying you will never be enough.”

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Chapter Three Emily thumped her alarm clock. The heels of her hands dug at her eyes. What day was it? “Sunday,” she muttered. And then Saturday night came hurtling back into her mind in glorious Technicolor. She groaned. ***** She’d run from that room, torn up the corridors, stumbled across a staircase and eventually found the room in which she had changed a few hours before. Not thinking. She would sort things on Monday, say she’d had a little too much to drink. That she had never expected his attentions and it had thrown her. Which wasn’t a lie… Emily threw on her work clothes and stuffed the stupid red dress into her holdall. She didn’t care how expensive it had been. When she got home, she was going to burn it! Running down the main staircase, she pulled out her mobile phone and hurriedly tried to phone a taxi. She’d arranged for one to pick her up at midnight. A little Cinderella joke with herself. She prayed that they could come early. She could not hang around in the entrance hall for an hour. Her fingers stabbed at the buttons and Emily cursed the little machine. It never worked properly. Half the time, she couldn’t turn the damn thing off. “Emily.” That voice stopped her dead. “Jake,” she said. Had he come to explain the joke? She waved to the double doors of the entrance. “I have to get home. I have an early start tomorrow and well…” “How are you getting home?” Emily ignored the rush of disappointment. Some part of her had wanted him to ask her to stay. The insane part. She wiggled the phone in her hand. “Taxi.” “You won’t get anything to come out here. Not on a Saturday night.” He took the bag from her fingers and she shivered as his hand accidentally brushed hers. Was he asking…? “My chauffeur can take you.” Obviously not. “Thank you,” she murmured. Nothing like being thrown out in style. “Jake, about before—” “Yes?” Nothing in his face; nothing to tell her the way the conversation should go. Damn, damn, damn. What did she say? The truth? Emily wanted to laugh. That would go down well. Saying that she wanted to seduce him but had thrown herself too much into the part. “I… I must have had more to drink than I thought. I’m sorry.” “About what?” She thought about thumping him as an option. The man was enjoying making her squirm. Jake Penvenhan stirred up too many conflicting emotions. Shaming emotions. She knew she would have gone further with him, slept with him. And she knew that if he asked her now… Emily’s eyes dropped away and she preceded him out of the double entrance doors. She still held the unfulfilled ache within in her, like a coil winding her tight. She breathed in a fresh lungful and tried to calm herself. Everything was spiraling out of control. “Emily? About what?”

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He was so calm, so reasonable. She hated him. Time for some lies. She presented him with a sharp, teasing grin. “I tend to become… libidinous… when I’ve had a little too much expensive champagne.” His eyes narrowed. “Libidinous?” Emily shivered. Something in his voice disturbed her. She held back a sigh. Her attempt to seduce him at been a spectacular failure and now he was wary, even suspicious of her. Emily kept her eyes on the dark horizon. “Look… Jake… this has all been a horrible mistake, easily forgotten. I’m sorry that I led you to think…” Her words failed her. Thankfully, a black Bentley crunched over the gravel towards them, rolling to a slow stop. She let out a slow breath. “I’m grateful for this,” she said, waving at the car, its engine still quietly ticking over. “Thank you.” She pulled in her courage and lifted her gaze. The light from the entrance hall etched his face with pale gold, pooled in the dark depths of his eyes. Her breath caught. So beautiful. “Your bag.” The formality in his voice made her heart tighten. “Yes. Thank you.” Her fingers curled around the handle and she turned to leave. “So it was a mistake?” “A mistake? Yes.” “Really?” There was dark amusement to his voice and something else. Something that sounded bitter, cynical. Emily paused. “I can only apologize, Mr. Penvenhan.” “What happened to Jake?” She closed her eyes.” That’s hardly appropriate now.” She heard the driver’s door open and shoes crunch into the gravel. The chauffeur took the bag from her numb fingers and she belatedly nodded her thanks. “Goodnight, Mr. Penvenhan.” “Emily?” She stopped at the open passenger door, feeling the carefully neutral gaze of the chauffeur on her. She started at the hand that turned her, when Jake’s warm fingers gently cupped her face. His thumb stroked her cheek. She should say something, anything, but her mind was blank. “Don’t be sorry,” he murmured. And then the brief brush of his lips over hers; a moment burned into her. His scent, his taste, the way his mouth caught her lower lip, the fact that she had to fight not to return that kiss. To slide her fingers into his hair, open her mouth to his… There was no air in her lungs. Emily stumbled back into the passenger seat and the chauffeur closed the door with a heavy clunk. Her head fell back against the cool, dark leather and she practiced breathing again. Jake Penvenhan would be the death of her. But she couldn’t stop the silly smile. Didn’t want to. ***** Emily stared at the pitted ceiling. The previous night felt like a dream. Which was odd, as she’d had very little sleep. Reluctantly, she threw off the heavy duvet and dug her toes into the soft rug. She’d missed her visit to Bobby because her body, face and hair had to be waxed, moisturized, toned. Emily scrubbed at her face, glad that she had been able to remove every trace of make—up

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the minute she got home. Bleary—eyed she trudged into her bathroom. Bobby had said he would be released that morning. An end to the visits. Emily hoped so. She hated hospitals. Hated them. ***** Jake stared up at the rambling Victorian conversion. His security personnel had said that Emily’s was the top floor flat. “Impressive investment,” Jake muttered as he strode up the short path to the large, black—painted door. “Industrial espionage obviously pays very well.” Emily had money. If she could afford to rent, then she could afford to buy. Her current salary could not cover the cost of her flat whichever option had her living there. He pressed the fourth doorbell and waited. Minutes dragged. Jake flicked a glance at his watch. It was still early, only nine o’clock on a Sunday morning. “Maybe she really did have an early start,” he muttered. He pressed the bell for the ground floor flat. A smile tugged at Jake’s mouth as he heard cursing and then the inner and outer doors opened. “What?” He nodded at the man dressed only in a tee shirt and boxers, who scrubbed at half—open eyes. “Sorry,” Jake said. “Must have pressed the wrong bell.” He moved forward into the doorway. “Emily’s on her way down.” “What? Oh, okay.” The man shuffled back to his open front door, not giving Jake another thought. Jake took the broad stairs three at a time. He’d had to accelerate his plan. Instinct told him that she knew he had found out about her, or at the very least strongly suspected it. He didn’t want her vanishing. She was the weak link. He had seen her expression after that parting kiss. A shared lust. He would work it to his advantage. Jake knew how the opposite sex reacted to him, how they had been reacting since he hit puberty. Emily Harding was no different. He rapped on the door, frowning at the tarnished brass number, the peeling blue paint. A negligent landlord or was Emily just too busy? Still no answer. Jake settled himself on the cold marble stair, glad that he had filched a Sunday newspaper from the hall. He was quite prepared to make himself look keen. Lull Emily into thinking that he was under her spell. Jake laughed at that thought and unfolded the business section. He was too much a product of his parents. Numerous affairs and marriages had tainted his view on anything other than lust. He stared at the broadsheet. Now lust he understood. He would make Emily understand it too. ***** Emily closed the front door with a sigh. Typical Bobby. His leg wasn’t healing as it should. One more day. Just one more. She wanted another shower. Somehow, the antiseptic smell clung to her skin. Her fingers pulled at the buttons of her jacket. She tried to tell herself that she was imagining it but it was a hangover from when she was a child. Of being fourteen and watching cancer eat away at her mother. And then a memory no one thought she had. A four-year-old watching doctors try to save her father… Emily pushed that away. Yes. Tomorrow she’d take a long lunch, jump a taxi and hopefully get her brother installed in the flat as soon as possible. She stared up, wincing

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against the three flights of stairs they would have to negotiate. “With Bobby moaning over every step,” she muttered. “Emily? Hi.” She fixed a belated smile on her mouth. “Harry.” She glanced at her watch. Just gone ten thirty. “Bit early for you, isn’t it?” Harry scratched at untidy, blond hair as he sorted through the newspapers on the hall table. He pulled out his usual tabloid. “Got woken by your visitor. I didn’t know nine a.m. existed on a Sunday.” “Visitor?” “Just seen him off? Didn’t realize until I shut my door, but he’s a bit… funny.” “Funny?” Harry looked up. He shrugged. “Disconcerting.” Her first insane thought was that Jake had wangled his way into the building. That was stupid, Jake would never… But now a horrifying thought hit her. Richard. Richard was waiting for her, probably wanting to know how last night went. She wanted to turn and run. But she knew he would find her. “Coffee later?” Harry said. “Yeah. Sure,” she replied, her mind numb. She watched Harry shamble back into this flat. A deep breath forced itself into her lungs. Better to get it over with. Slow feet pulled her up the wide, marble stairs. What could she tell him? That she hadn’t a clue what Jake’s reaction to her had been; that she’d never get the information he wanted. “He could’ve gotten a proper spy,” she muttered, her hand closing around the solid banister, helping to haul her up another step. But Richard wanted his revenge. Wanted her to give to a stranger what she’d never give to him. Emily briefly closed her eyes. The war with herself still made a knot of her insides. Jake was everything she didn’t know she wanted. “And that makes no sense.” He made her feel excited, alive and no man had ever done that. Then there was how she should view him. A ruthless man from a ruthless family. A family that played on her father’s weakness and drove him to swallow so many pills. She wiped at a tear. Every time. Every time she visited Bobby all that she could remember were doctors, nurses surrounding a bed. The rapid fire of instructions as they tried to save their patient, her father. The flashing and beeping of too much equipment… and that smell. That sterile, cleaning fluid, hospital smell. She froze. A man sat at the top of the stairs, mostly hidden by a broadsheet newspaper. Emily pulled in her courage. “Hello—” The newspaper dropped. “—Jake?” His wry grin made her heart flip-flop.” Expecting someone else? “Yes.” Her brain kicked in. “No. No.” She watched him climb to his feet and all other thought, all caution fled. Halfremembered dreams and day old memories didn’t do Jake Penvenhan justice. He was beautiful. Cropped black hair deliciously tousled, his eyes a deep cinnamon. Leather jacket, unbuttoned to reveal a close-fitting black jersey, the white tee shirt he wore beneath it contrasting with the smooth, brown skin of his throat. Her eyes involuntarily slid back

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down to his jeans, not wanting to see those long legs, how good they looked. She swallowed. Did the man have to be so… edible? And she was a mess. No make-up. Old jeans, boots, Bobby’s cast-off jacket, far too big for her. Her hair— No. She wasn’t even going there. “Harry said I had a visitor.” She made her feet climb the stairs that separated them. “I never thought—” “Harry?” “The man who let you in.” The keys trembled in her hand. Jake’s scent wrapped around her and involuntarily she breathed him in. Her pulse jumped. Damn it, she should have more sense, fight his affect on her. But she couldn’t. It wasn’t just his smile that should come with a health warning. The key finally twisted in the lock and she kicked hard at the door. “It sticks,” she murmured, wanting to break the silence. If she was talking, about anything, then she wasn’t thinking. “I should sort it. Candle wax is supposed to be good for that type of thing.” “What about your landlord?” “The flat’s mine.” Her gaze flicked up to his. Dropped. “Come in—” She stopped herself from using his name. Jake was still too familiar. And he was about to enter her home. Mr. Penvenhan was just too formal. “Excuse the mess.” Emily led the way into the dark hallway. A thin slice of dull light cut through from the living room and she winced against the chaos Jake would find. She had lived too long in this flat, but had never called it home. She doubted she ever would. She flicked on the main light. The open-plan living room was north facing and caught little sun. The kitchen in the far corner was thick with shadow. It didn’t help that she hadn’t opened the curtains that morning. But curtains were the last of her worries. With new eyes, she saw the mess of clothes, dishes, papers, the need to decorate peeling walls and windows. Shame tightened her stomach. “D’you need any help?” Emily heard the amusement in his voice. “No, thank you,” she said. She dragged a pile of clothes from the sofa and stuffed them into the washing machine. She set it and then turned her attention to clearing dishes. Jake dropped onto one of her squashy sofas. “You don’t have to tidy up for me.” “I’m not.” She would scrub the kitchen and scour the bathroom when he left. The thought struck her that she had not asked the obvious question. She looked up from loading the dishwasher and reddened when she caught Jake watching her. “Why are you here?” “We have unfinished business.” Emily blinked. “We have?” Jake sat back and anxiety twisted her. “I distinctly remember something about a bet.” She waved her arm around the now, mostly tidy, living room and open kitchen. “I don’t have a billiard table. Sorry.” “We can play more than billiards.” Emily wanted him to stop. A man had never had her so unbalanced. Her life, before him, had been about control. Her childhood and teenage years were chaotic and she’d worked hard to keep situations manageable, to be sensible. And for all that his

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family had done to hers. She should hate him. She should. She set the dishwasher and forced herself to meet Jake’s gaze. “So what do you suggest? Chess, poker,” her head tipped, “tiddlywinks?” “I don’t want to play games with you, Emily.” He stood and she willed her feet to the wooden floor. His smile that turned her legs to jelly. “Least of all tiddlywinks.” “Don’t knock it.” She swallowed. Her mouth was dry; her voice felt unused. Her tongue licked automatically over her lips and she couldn’t miss the gleam in Jake’s eyes. Emily fought the pounding of her blood. “It’s a game of skill and nerve.” Jake laughed. “You’re a player.” She straightened, enjoying his teasing far too much. “Grandmaster. Won my university team the International.” “That wasn’t on your job application.” Emily ignored the nervous shiver, the frightening thought that Jake had read her application. She reminded herself that Richard had said her background was flawless. His friend’s company, Andersons, had provided her working credentials, the HR department primed to answer questions about her… Quickly, she pulled in her thoughts. “It’s hardly a serious pastime. And it has been a long time since I played.” Her words drained away. Jake’s hand took hers, slowly exploring her fingers, palm, his warm thumb gently stroking the inside of her wrist. Emily stared up at him, lost in the dark shine of his eyes. “Is it true it’s all in the wrist?” And then he smirked. Emily couldn’t help herself. She giggled. “It used to be.” “Show me the rest of your flat, Emily.” His fingers slid from hers and she ached at the loss of warmth, the loss of his touch. She held back a sigh. Jake Penvenhan was a very dangerous man. It scared her that she could forget everything, everyone when he touched her. Her took in his long form, remembering the burn of his fingertips on her cool skin. But it wasn’t just physical. Emily laughed at herself. She had to get some perspective. Jake was attracted to her. Insane as that was. But he would want sex. Not the offer of her under-used heart. “This is mostly it,” she said. She waved an arm over the square kitchen and long living room. She had to keep him there. Bobby shared her flat and she didn’t want to go into a detailed explanation, nor even a simple one, of exactly where her brother was. Plus both bedrooms were pits. He stared through the doors that led out onto the small balcony, the view half obscured by the still closed curtains. “Just two bedrooms and a bathroom down that hallway.” He glanced at her. “How long have you been here?” Another lie. The truth would only raise more questions. “Since university.” An eyebrow lifted. “My family helped.” Almost the truth. Her mother’s life insurance, invested by Richard’s family and used to pay for the flat when they threw her out. Only sixteen. She stared over the grubby walls, the threadbare furniture, and her loathing of the place rose again. She would move. Soon. His eyes were unreadable. “Then you’ve made a very good investment.”

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Damn. She had spoken those last words aloud. “Serious conversation, Jake?” “Just interested.” He turned away from the window. “I should’ve been as shrewd when I was twenty-one.” His words twisted her stomach. She breathed past the knot. It hurt to lie to him, but the truth was something they could never share. Stupid, stupid. She would not fall for Jake Penvenhan. “You haven’t done too badly.” He shrugged, but there was a gleam in his eyes; the shine of humor. “A man can get tired of counting zeroes.” Emily’s gaze narrowed on him. “Liar.” “I always wanted to raise sheep.” She grinned. “Again. Liar.” “Wandering the hills, ewes and lambs grazing in rich pasture land, dogs herding… What?” Emily couldn’t stop laughing. She’d never expected silliness from a man like Jake Penvenhan. She thought he’d be like Richard Stokes, ruthless, brutal, severely lacking in humor. “Jake, you’re not a farmer.” “I’m not?” When had he gotten so close? Her laughter dropped away. “Why not?” Emily watched the hand that drifted all too slowly to her cheek. The charge of contact almost made her gasp. His fingers followed the curve of her face, leaving a path of unexpected sensation. Her eyes closed and she let herself enjoy the forbidden pleasure of Jake’s touch. “I asked you a question, Emily.” She should be ashamed that she just… melted… into a non-thinking puddle whenever he touched her. But she couldn’t find that emotion. Not when sweeter feelings washed over everything else. Her eyes opened and a smile curved her mouth. “Wellingtons,” she said. Jake stared at her. “Wellingtons?” His hand had stopped. Emily wanted explanations out of the way before reality crashed in again. “As in boots.” Her glance flicked to his obviously expensive footwear. “Not you. And all that mud. And the smell…” “Destroying my dream, Emily. That’s cruel.” His velvet-soft voice threaded through sensitized nerves, fingers stroking the delicate skin behind her ear, trailing her jaw. At that moment, he could have quoted stock market figures. The effect would be the same. A dizzying rush of need that should’ve been embarrassing in its intensity. “Then chastise me.” Emily’s cheeks burned at the words. Sometimes she wished her brain worked. She really was out of her depth with this flirting thing— “If that’s what you want…” She just caught the wicked grin before his mouth covered hers. The warm taste of his lips; the bite of his teeth on her upper lip. And then the sudden heat of his tongue, a slow, slow exploration that made Emily’s fingers clench tight in the cool, butter-soft leather of his jacket. But there was something controlled about the touch of his fingers on her jaw. Emily

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couldn’t explain, yet Jake had felt different the night before. Somehow, now he was almost… detached… Could he be unsure of her response? That seemed stupid. It had to be embarrassingly obvious how she fell apart when he touched her. Emily closed her eyes against the betrayal. It was wrong to want him so much; completely, utterly wrong. But she ached for Jake to lose control; to find her as irresistible as she found him. The thought consumed her. Her traitorous fingers slipped over the edge of his jeans. A nervous slide over denim to the hot, smooth skin of his hip. Up, up, a slow, inexorable slide over hard, sculpted muscle. Emily marveled at the tension her touch caused; how hot flesh quivered under her cool, light fingertips. Her nail grazed his nipple. She swallowed his low, uncontrolled groan and sighed with satisfaction. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” The rush of words whispered against her neck as lips, teeth, tongue found all too sensitive skin. Deliberately, and too, too slowly she ran her nail around his nipple. Jake’s head snapped back and his molten gold eyes speared her. The desire there caught her breath. Thoughts of how wrong this whole situation was fled. “I have my answer.” “Yes.” Her word gasped out on too little air. His soft voice seeped into her skin, mixed with the liquid rush of fire in her veins. If he didn’t start kissing her right now she would just— One moment his eyes burned her, the next his mouth was devouring hers, a hot, furious battle that would end with him buried deep, deep inside her. That single, so alien thought crushed her eyes tight with need. Insane to want this man. Insane to think that she could ever satisfy— She cried out at the fingers that had wormed their way into her jeans, lifting her, finding her. The sudden impact of the wall against her spine and Jake pressing hard, hard against her. Emily clung to him, cursing the barrier of too many clothes, desperate to feel the delicious friction of his very naked skin against hers. To feel him hot and hard inside of her. Her head felt almost dizzy with the joy of Jake’s touch. Those utterly remorseless fingers… and then the unbearable tightening low, low in her pelvis. There. Oh God. Just there— Shuddering tension exploded into a startling blaze of heat and Emily’s mouth shot open in a soundless cry. Rolling. Unstoppable. Never ending. Her mouth found his in her burning, trembling confusion. Jake. So, so beautiful. All forbidden feelings rushed her. She wanted more. Not just his hands, his mouth. But to feel him inside her. Her breath caught at that; made her flesh tighten again. And for him to say that he loved— Ringing. Not inside her head. A low, bitter curse shot from Jake’s mouth. His forehead fell against her shoulder

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and Emily could feel his fight to steady his ragged breathing. His head lifted and a wry smile cut his mouth. “That’s the door.” Jake released her and Emily slid, trembling down the wall, stopping only when her behind hit the floor. She ran a shaking hand through her hair. What had just happened? Was he regretting…? She bit at her lip, feeling vulnerable, stupid. She let out a slow sigh, watching Jake disappear through the door to the hall. She had to stand but her legs were jelly and really she just wanted to curl up there on the hardwood floor. And possibly die. “Hi. Again.” Emily groaned. “Harry.” Reluctant feet pushed her back up and then she realized how loose her clothes were. She pulled at her zipper, twisted buttons, straightened material in the few seconds it took Harry to enter her living room. Her cheeks scorched. Her life really shouldn’t be this insane. “Harry!” Too bright. Too loud. Emily cringed. “Sorry.” She made the smile that curved her lips look natural. “I forgot about coffee.” “Emily?” Jake, his hand resting on the doorjamb, so tall he almost filled the frame. Another wry grin quirked his mouth. Something almost… mocking. His thumb jabbed back to the front door.” I have to go.” His gaze narrowed. “Tomorrow. My office. Eight sharp.” She swallowed. But no words escaped. Her head jerked a nod, instead. Then he was gone. “Em? You okay?” She was not thinking about why Jake wanted to see her. She would go crazy with those possibilities. And as to what had just happened—Emily deliberately exorcised those memories. There had been nothing there to suggest he had shared anything meaningful. Nausea killed the thrum of desire still haunting her body. She was just another easy woman. Harry moved past her to splash water into the kettle. She pulled her gaze from the empty doorway and turned to him. “What? Sorry. Yes.” She couldn’t help it. Her eyes flicked back to where Jake had stood. She bit at her lip. Hard. And cursed the taste of him still sharp on her tongue. She could not fall for this man. Couldn’t. He was the enemy. She wanted to run. Hide. Only the thought of protecting Bobby stopped her. No man had ever pierced the shell of her self protection. She told herself that Jake Penvenhan would be no different… but she knew she was lying. Her shaking fingers closed around the mug Harry offered. She stared into the dark brown liquid but her mind swirled with only one thought. Tomorrow.

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Chapter Four “Jake will be through shortly.” Emily managed a half smile, too nervous to do more. Kate patted her arm. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll just be a chat about the dinner on Saturday.” “Yes.” Her frozen legs held her in the doorway but Emily forced herself to move into the long meeting room. “You could be the permanent replacement. To be honest, I really wouldn’t mind.” Her voice dropped and she rolled her eyes. “I spend most of the night fending off executives who think I’m their easy access to Jake.” She grinned and turned back to the door.” And don’t look so scared. He won’t eat you!” Heat scalded Emily’s cheeks but Kate had gone. “You have no idea,” she muttered. Kate’s words were too similar. All that she could hear was Jake’s soft voice, promising… She sank into a deep cushioned chair. A hot sigh escaped her and she stared down at her hands knotted in her lap. “Calm. I have to be calm, composed, cool.” She crushed her eyes tight. “Yeah. Right.” Jake Penvenhan had turned her life upside down. Less than twenty four hours before they had… he had… Emily jerked to her feet. She was a grown woman; should be able to cope with— Memory burst over her. The taste of his skin, his mouth and those fingers that— Emily swallowed. She’d had too long to dwell on what had happened. To think. To have thoughts swirl around her head and to wake in the morning, after only minutes of sleep, feeling groggy and sandy eyed. Emily stretched aching shoulders. Infatuation. That’s what she had. Nothing deeper than that. She was allowed that. It wouldn’t get in the way of the job. She had never been happy with what she had to do. Now it felt like a betrayal. She had contemplated confessing all, throwing herself on Jake’s mercy. And then the memory of the hard light to Jake’s eyes had flooded back. If Jake found out about her; about what Richard was making her do, what she had already done. Ruthless in business, ruthless in— “Infatuation.” Not that other word. That had never been a part of her life. Nor Jake Penvenhan’s. She had scoured enough celebrity magazines, researched him. He used women for the moment. She’d flicked through photograph after photograph, seeing too many beautifully plastic models and realized that bitter truth. She paced before the window, trying to work through her rush of panicked adrenalin. Eight fifteen. The wait was making her crazy. “Hurry up!” ***** Jake stared down at the busy street far below, the mug of coffee cooling in his hand. Kate had shown Emily into the meeting room that adjoined his office. And left her to stew. Jake told himself he was making her wait to show her who was in control, that she couldn’t manipulate him the way she must all the other men in her life. His jaw tightened and the mug hit his desk with more force than he intended. He cursed and wiped the cold liquid from his wrist.

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He’d seen the apprehension on her face when Harry had entered her living room. Something she wanted to keep from him? After all, it destroyed the illusion of her availability. Jake rolled his neck, easing the tension. He straightened his tie. It didn’t matter. He would know the truth soon enough. His security firm, just one of the numerous companies under the Penvenhan corporate umbrella, had had one of its senior people on Emily Harding for eight days. He’d been promised a full report. Much more than the scant surveillance photos had revealed. Sarah had said that Emily was still proving difficult to unravel. He had to trust the woman’s professional judgment. Jake flicked a glance at the white-gold watch on his wrist. Eight thirty. “I think she’s sweated enough.” He opened the door to his meeting room. “Emily?” She started, turning away from the long run of windows. Fresh morning sunlight made the tumbled mass of her hair shine, her pale skin glow. She wore one of those dark business suits she favored, but a blue silk blouse softened its austerity and opened buttons offered the tempting shadow of her cleavage. Memory threw him back. Watching her come apart in his arms, the fierce joy in her silver-gray eyes, the adoration… He knew it was false, just another part of her act. But the thought of it still tightened his gut. And damn it, he hadn’t meant to go that far with her. Not yet. Deliberately, he looked at his watch. “Eight thirty. I’m sorry, I got caught up.” Her face flushed. “I’ve been enjoying the view.” “Yes.” And his gaze slid down her body again. He waited for the deep red of her face to spread to her neck. Such a good actress. The prim little miss. And then there was the woman she became in his arms. His jaw tightened. Who the damn woman really was, what was her true nature didn’t matter. Especially not to him. He had to work with the facades she presented. Nothing more. “I’m not one to miss an opportunity, Emily,” he said, inviting her to sit on one of the deep, pale sofas arranged before the windows. He stared. He couldn’t help it. She’d crossed her legs, her skirt falling back over her thigh. His attention fixed on the smooth, rounded flesh and he ached to run his fingers over her cool skin, push away that nuisance of a skirt and— Jake yanked in his thoughts. No woman had ever made his libido run completely out of control. Emily would not be the exception. “Opportunity?” “Us.” She blinked. “Us?” “Are you trying to deny our chemistry?” She swallowed, her eyes still huge. “Is that a no?” “But… but an ‘us’?” Jake didn’t want to grin. So, it annoyed him when he did. “An arrangement, then.” Her fingers picked at one another. “How would that work?” “You make yourself available whatever day, whatever time I want you.” Still she didn’t look up. “What’s in this for me?” A good, mercenary answer. He would turn her against Anton yet. Jake’s thumb lifted her chin and found her face unreadable.” Whatever you want.” Jake gave her a

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sharp smile. “I am a billionaire.” “Yes.” Emily wanted to run, to escape the unexpected swell of pain. She had succeeded. Jake was offering her… what? The polite word was mistress. The impolite was… something else. Someone to satisfy the itch of the moment. And why should she want more, expect more from a Penvenhan? She worked a smile across her mouth, fighting the strain of it. She still had her role to play. “This is all so sudden…” She kept her tone light, teasing and it killed her. Jake’s mouth twitched. “Sorry, no down on one knee for this proposal.” Her heart jumped. The stupid and impossible thought of being able to spend the rest of her life with him hit her. A bitter regret contracted her chest. Emily breathed past it. “Would you be offended by my relief?” “I’d join you.” “Good.” Her eyes itched. Crying? That so wasn’t her. She straightened. “So what happens now?” She shrugged. “I’ve not been the plaything of a billionaire before.” An edge of bitterness deepened the stern line of his mouth. Just days ago she’d been confident of success. Confident? If confidence was a queasy stomach, shaking hands and a complete inability to sit still, then yes— “Care to share?” She blinked.” Sorry?” A fingertip lightly traced her lips. “You often find your own thoughts amusing.” She could still feel the burning touch of him on her mouth. “Do I?” Heat bled under her skin. With his slightest caress, her brain turned to goo and she melted. Could she be more gauche? “Yes.” “Someone has to find me funny.” She shrugged again. Using humor as a shield had held her together, protected her for so many years. “Are we going to use code?” “This is a serious arrangement, Emily.” Contrition dulled her eyes. Jake wondered what would happen if he declared that he knew all about her, about her lie of a life, her criminal activities. Maybe then he would see a flash of the real woman beneath the artifice. No. Emily was the pawn. With her he would bring down Anton. And the man who had introduced her to his stepbrother. To that end, he had to keep her sweet, continue to let her believe he was stupidly in her thrall. Nothing was further from the truth. Nothing. “Sorry,” he murmured and caressed the softness of her cheek, slowly caressing. “I don’t enter into situations like this lightly. There has to be mutual… satisfaction… with the arrangement.” Was her mouth supposed to go that dry that quickly? And could he want more? Her heart squeezed, but she wouldn’t call it hope. She felt the protective shield crumbling and all that she could think about was that she knew how his lips would taste. “We’ll discuss it over dinner,” Jake said, his dark eyes gleaming. “I’m busy through the week – so Friday. My chauffeur will call for you at seven thirty.” Emily swallowed. She really had to get this wanting to jump him thing under control. She waved vaguely towards the door. “I should get to work.” “And that’s something else we’ll discuss on Friday.”

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She blinked. “Work?” “I don’t like gossip, Emily.” “I would never—” His finger gently pressing against her lips silenced her. “Friday.” His finger curled away from the warmth of her mouth. Not in the office. Never… But that soft parting to her lips, the look of… need… “Never one to miss an opportunity.” “Jake?” He caught her lower lip with his teeth, making her gasp. His eyes closed and he held back a sigh. How had he missed the taste of her? Something so warm, sweet. No. Not just Emily. He had sworn off any kind of relationship for over two months. Any woman would have fired his blood. Any— Her mouth opened to his and all further thought disintegrated. The flicker of her tongue, the slow caress of her slender fingers over his jaw, slowly, slowly finding sensitive skin on his neck, his ear, tangling themselves in his hair. His hands had found their own path; pulling at the silky blouse tucked neatly into the band of her skirt. Then he gained access to the warm, firm flesh beneath. Emily gasped and wriggled, her hand tightening in his hair. “Here?” Her voice was breathless, uncertain. His lips slid down her throat. “Any time, any place, Emily.” “But—” His thumb deliberately grazed her nipple through the lace of her bra. The involuntary moan and her arching into this touch made him smile against her skin. “But…” Resolve had gone from her voice. This was only a token resistance. “Gossipers.” His free hand undid the small buttons on her blouse. “Is that a word?” “Yes, it—” His tongue traced a slow line down to the swell of her breasts. “Jake, I really think—” The clasp to her bra snapped open.” Do you ever intend to finish a sentence?” “I would, if you would just stop… Oh God—” His mouth had found her breast, his tongue swirling, teeth gently nipping. Her words were incoherent now and he grinned. She tasted of vanilla and clean, achingly soft skin. Jake wanted to spend hours exploring every inch of her, make her scream his name and then bury— “The door!” Emily ripped herself away and scrambled off the sofa. Shaking hands pulled at her open blouse. What was she doing? She had let Jake Penvenhan strip her half naked! Her eyes crushed shut. Again. She struggled to fasten the stupid, fiddly clasp. Heat washed her face when Jake took over, confidently clicking the clip into place. “It’s all right,” he murmured. His hand cupped her jaw. “But it was a timely interruption. You’re a little too addictive.” He brushed a chaste kiss over her lips. “Until Friday.” “Not any sooner?” The words rushed out and guilt bit at her. Jake gave a low, soft chuckle. Something gleamed in his eyes. Emily hoped it wasn’t amusement. “Waiting will only whet your appetite.” He stepped back. “I promise.” She fought the shiver that wanted to grip her. She needed to be cool, sophisticated. A mistress. Supposedly. “I’ll hold you to that.”

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“Is that your promise?” Emily’s gaze dropped. She was so out of her depth. A sudden burst of courage made her look up at him through her lashes. She wanted Jake Penvenhan. She would deal with the guilt. Afterwards. “Yes.” “Then don’t wear yourself working too hard.” His gaze speared her. “I know you.” Was that concern? Emily swallowed past the lump in her throat. No one had cared for her in such a long time. Damn him. She turned away before he caught the start of her tears. No, not crying. She didn’t cry. Guilt rose to choke her. A physical need for Jake she could handle. But not something deeper. Her father had committed suicide. She could not, would not love a man whose family had destroyed him. Damn Richard Stokes to hell for doing this to her. She yanked at the door. And damn herself too. Jake watched her leave. He stretched tense shoulders. “That went well.” He could still taste her on his lips, her unique scent clinging to his clothes, his skin. Her sudden panic had brought him to his senses. Anyone could have walked in. It was an unusual lapse in his judgment. But then everything about Emily Harding threw him off. Jake laughed and scratched at his hair. “Too little sleep,” he muttered. “And definitely not enough sex.” Emily had raised the stakes… It was just his plan to take advantage of that. “Friday will definitely sort that last part.” He pushed out a sudden sense of misgivings. No. There would never have been, never would be anything more between them. Jake ignored the hot, tight pain in his gut. He didn’t get attached to women; didn’t do relationships. Finely honed lust was still his driving force. He would find pleasure in her body and then discard Emily when she was of no further use. He couldn’t help his hard smile. He would enjoy binding this woman to him. And then seeing her expression when he told her he had used her from the very beginning. No one betrayed him. Not any more. That was a vow he’d made as a child. He slammed the door to the meeting room. ***** “Why didn’t you buy somewhere with a lift?” “The very next place,” Emily muttered. “How about a bungalow?” Bobby stopped, his hand tightening on the banister rail. “You’re selling up?” “I’ve never settled here. Never really liked the place.” She fixed her arm around her brother’s waist. “We have to move faster, Bobby. I only have my lunch hour.” “Not like the place!” He hobbled up another step and then another. “You left to live here. You said you couldn’t let this place escape you.” Emily stared at the solid stone steps. She didn’t want to hear the pain in his voice. Bobby had felt abandoned, she knew that. But she’d had no choice. They said that if she wanted her brother to carry on enjoying their lifestyle and not go back into institutional care she had to leave… “It’s time I moved on.” “Is Richard telling you to do this as well?” Her eyes closed briefly. “No.” “Em, I’m sorry I got you into this mess.” She stopped now. “You didn’t get me into this.” “But you can’t prostitute yourself to protect me.”

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Heat slashed her cheeks. “It’s hardly that!” “I can’t see a man like Jake Penvenhan—” “Bobby, we have no choice!” He would never know how far she had gone already and what Jake had proposed. “Look what happened to you when I refused to carry on with Richard’s stupid scheme.” A wry smile. “And I liked this job. It pays much better than the book shop.” Bobby scratched at his hair and winced at the stretch of sore ribs. “I never thought Richard could do this to me. To us.” “I can’t imagine why.” Emily closed her eyes. Her bones felt weary. Curling up on her bed, pulling the duvet over her head and pushing out the rest of the world was a blissful thought. But she had to trudge back into work. Jake had stayed in his office all morning. Not one glimpse of him. Not one. “Let’s get up the last few stairs and then you can go to bed, Bobby. You need to rest.” “Need a hand?” Her heart stopped. Not him. Not now. “We’re fine, thank you, Richard.” “Just came to make sure you were all right, Bobby.” “Like Em said, we’re fine.” Emily heard the bitterness in her brother’s voice. He had always looked up to Richard, wanted to be just like him. It’d been a rude awakening for him to see Richard’s real personality. “Who let you in?” “Samantha? Lovely girl on the second floor?” Yes. Emily could see that woman falling for Richard’s surface charm. Sharp-suited, classically handsome, but with a shark-bright smile. He acted the likeable rogue, had a voice that had once made her melt. Yet that voice now sent chills over her skin. Emily knew the real man beneath the civilized veneer. “Well, as you can see…” Her words faded. Ice blue eyes fixed on her and she held back the shiver. Bobby’s hand tightened around her waist. Damn, he had felt her fear. Richard lifted an eyebrow. “I need your progress report?” “I don’t have much time, Richard.” “We do this now, or I wait for you to come home.” Emily had never felt… safe… around Richard. If she let him in, then his time was limited. Coming back to find him in her house. There, waiting for her, as she opened the door— No, not going back to another time, another memory. “I really don’t have long.” “Penvenhan missing you already?” Emily hid her scorching face behind her hair while she hunted through her bag for her key. The door opened and she helped Bobby to the sofa. “A private report, Emily.” Richard’s gaze slid over Bobby. “The balcony?” “Your bedroom?” “This room!” Bobby struggled to his feet. He propped himself up on his crutches. “I’m just through there.” His voice was soft and his hazel eyes briefly held hers. Guilt dulled them. “Sorry, Em.” Her hand brushed his arm as he clattered away. “Bobby’s finally getting some sense.” Emily bit back her retort. “Look, I didn’t get a chance at Jake’s office on Saturday, but—”

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“Jake?” Richard subjected her to that bright, vicious smile. “I had heard he found you interesting – but then according to my source you didn’t leave much to the imagination.” Bile rose. She had to ignore him. He was just doing what he always did. “—he asked me to dinner on Friday.” “Where?” Emily realized she didn’t know. She shrugged. “I’ll be picked up.” “How appropriate.” He stroked her cheek and Emily flinched. His eyes sparked at her reaction. “You’re good. I always knew you would be.” “And you’re—” His thumb moved to her lips. “Emily, is that any way to speak to me? We’ve known each other for too long.” She backed away from him. Calm. Polite. Bobby’s welfare depended on him. “I have to get back.” “Not just yet.” “People will ask—” “You’re helping your brother.” He took another step closer and his sharp, bitter smell invaded her nostrils. “I knew Penvenhan would find you… intriguing. It’s that air of innocence, with the tantalizing hint of your real nature.” Emily’s spine hit the edge of the kitchen counter. She couldn’t panic. She had fought him off eight years before. But that had been in his parents’ house as they slept along the landing. She had only an injured Bobby to shout for this time. And that would only make things worse. He planted heavy hands either side of her, trapping her against the cupboard with his body. “Has Penvenhan tasted you yet?” Emily lifted her chin. Her blood pounded with fear and adrenalin but she was determined that he wouldn’t see it. Richard Stokes had always been a bully. “It’s what you hired me for.” A flare of anger darkened his eyes. “You didn’t stay.” “Your source obviously doesn’t know everything.” Fury twisted his face, and his hand balled into a fist. She felt its impact against the worktop. “Used.” He grated out the word and fresh fear tightened in her stomach. A fingertip dragged down her cheek. “But I’m sure only lightly soiled.” That vicious smile. “Remind me to shower afterwards.” “Richard—” The sharp ring of her mobile phone. Quick fingers pulled it from her jacket pocket. A lifeline… “Emily.” Or not. She swallowed. She couldn’t say his name with Richard pressing so close. “How… how did you get my number?” “I have my ways.” She heard the humor in his voice, but her skin prickled. There was an undercurrent she couldn’t identify. “I have time free for lunch but you’re not in the office.”

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Emily could feel Richard’s eyes burning a hole in the top of her skull. With a burst of effort and she wriggled free of him, ducking out under his arm. Fast feet took her to the door. She had to get out. “My brother’s been in hospital. I was helping him back home.” “Serious?” She shut the front door and took to the stairs. “Broken leg. Bruised ribs.” She heard her front door slam. Oh God. Richard. “Emily, are you all right?” He really shouldn’t ask questions like that. At that moment, she just wanted to break down and tell him. “Fine.” Another landing reached. She could hear the measured click, click, click of Richard’s expensive shoes. Damn it, why did she live on the top floor? “I’m fine.” “You’re panting.” “I’m running.” He laughed. Yet it still didn’t sound right. “Are you so desperate to see me?” Emily had the sudden image of being held in Jake’s arm, feeling the solidity of his protection. Her heart ached at the thought. That was not the relationship he had set out. “How conceited would you feel if I said yes?” “Very.” “Then I’m late for my bus.” “There’s always my car.” Emily paused at the bottom of the stairs, getting her breath back. She wiped at her damp forehead. She’d missed her lunch. Fear and no food churned her stomach until she felt sick. And for a brief second, she wanted to accept Jake’s offer. To relax in the safety of that expensive car, enjoy the silence, allow her heart and mind to slow… But there was Richard. His face was well-known. Jake’s chauffeur would report seeing her with him. It surprised her that Richard had risked his very profitable scheme by openly coming to her flat. “There’s no need for that. It’s really only a few stops.” Her gaze shot up to the first floor landing. Richard. Cold eyes narrowed. Emily’s grip tightened around her mobile phone, clinging to the small comfort of knowing that Jake was there. “He’s already on his way.” That tone in his voice again. Bitter? It made no sense. “Jake…” Her words faltered at the icy anger freezing Richard’s face. Her attention darted to the wide window, offering a view of the open street and the safety it promised. She started to back toward the door. Richard took the phone and stabbed at a button. Emily stared up at him. “I’m doing what you wanted. You said I had to throw myself at him.” “You weren’t meant to enjoy it quite so much.” She flushed. “I didn’t. I’m not.” “Liar.” She straightened. Richard couldn’t know of her confusion over Jake Penvenhan. “This is punishment, isn’t it? And how could I ever enjoy being with a Penvenhan?” “Punishment?” His voice was ice. “I’ll show you what that is.” Cold fingers gripped her jaw. “I’ve always liked how you taste, Emily.” The blare of a car horn. “Jake’s car!” Emily wrenched free. She grabbed her phone

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and thrust it into her pocket. Richard fell back from the window and hid in the thick shadow. “I want that file by the end of the month. Otherwise I’ll make Bobby’s fall look like kindness.” “But that’s only days. I need more time. I won’t be able—” “You will.” The raw edge to his voice made her blood chill. “Or on the thirty-first you and I will renew our acquaintance.” “You’re disgusting!” “You’ve told me that before, Emily.” An eyebrow rose. “Forget about your car?” Emily turned and fled. What was she going to do? She collapsed into the soft, cool leather of the back seat. The heavy door closed with a thick clunk. A time limit. To find the stupid file or… She scrubbed a shaking hand over her face. She thought she had time to lull Jake, to make her search more discreet. And the dark little wish that she would have time with Jake. Wake up in his arms and pretend it was something more than a convenient, physical coupling. Jake Penvenhan. More confused guilt rose. She had to betray him, to protect her brother, to find vengeance for her father. To save herself. Then throw those feelings into the mix… Emily dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. She groaned. “And I thought I had problems this morning.”

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Chapter Five Emily threw herself into her office chair and struggled out of her jacket. Even with Jake’s car, she was late. She powered up her PC. She liked her job, liked the people she worked with. She would miss them and it. She closed her eyes against Richard’s threat. It was real. As he had pointed out, the law ignored the criminal acts of the very wealthy. Rules were for little people. Emily could still hear him saying that as he’d pinned her to her bed. He’d accused her of teasing him, of making it obvious how much she wanted him. She bit at her lip and held down a shudder. Eight years. She knew now that she’d blocked any interest in men. Had blocked. Her desire for Jake Penvenhan swamped— Her email pinged. Yes. Back to work. She stared and her hand trembled over opening the message. She took a firm breath and clicked. My office. Now. Emily heard the pounding of her heart, overloud in her ears. The three words burned into her brain. There were so many ways to say them. Playful, teasing, angered. She pushed herself to her feet like an automaton, shrugged into her jacket and started the seemingly endless walk to Jake’s office. Had his chauffeur caught a glimpse of Richard Stokes? Would security be waiting to frog march her to the nearest police station? Her spine straightened and a wry smile pulled at her mouth. At least if she was in custody, Richard couldn’t get to her. “Always a silver lining,” she muttered. The smile faded. But worse… imagining the look of hate in Jake’s eyes. The disgust. Kate was away from her desk, so she could offer no clue to what awaited her. She took a deep breath and then tapped on the door. The chatter and buzz of the office fell away. “Come in.” Empty. Empty of security, of police officers. Just Jake, rising from his desk. For a brief moment, Emily floated on a swell of relief. But only for a moment. “Close the door.” His eyes narrowed. “And lock it.” Jake caught the brief flare of anticipation. Anger burned through him. Still playing her games; still trying to manipulate him. Well, now he knew her identity. Nothing would give him greater satisfaction than having… breaking… this woman. “Jake?” He snapped the lock into place himself. The uncertainty he’d heard in her voice now shone in her silver-gray eyes. Such a fine actress. “So there’s no worry of being disturbed this time.” A small smile in reply. He should have known that she would have to be connected with someone as clever and ruthless as Richard Stokes. The surveillance video was oddly blurred, but there had been no mistaking that voice, even distorted by Emily’s mobile phone. That man’s involvement put another spin on the situation. Stokes wasn’t just helping Anton cover his tracks.

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He fought the fury that burned in his blood, holding his face in a pleasant mask. “I missed you, Emily.” He traced a finger over her cheek in a deliberate imitation of Stokes’ touch. Her lover’s touch. His jaw clenched and he wanted to mark that smoothly flawless skin. Everything about her had felt off from the very beginning. He wanted to tell her that she was wasted on an animal like Stokes, but he held his tongue. The pulse at her throat ran rapid and her eyes were huge as she looked up at him. Waiting, he thought cynically, with that nervous look of innocence about her. He almost laughed out loud. “And you?” he asked “And you, what?” He was in no mood for her humor. “Did you miss me?” She chewed at her lip before looking up again. “Should I say no and be cool, sophisticated? Or yes and seem over keen?” “The truth.” She swallowed. Jake knew whatever she said would be a lie. “Yes?” Jake pinned her to the wall, his hands either side of her shoulders, almost mirroring the stance in which Stokes had held her. “Really?” Her gaze dart nervously to either hand. He couldn’t know. Just coincidence that he was there as Richard had been; touched her cheek as Richard had. The subtle spice of his cologne, the hint of skin garbled her thoughts. He was not Richard. How could one man affect her to this degree? To want him, want to be with him. Emily put that need from her mind. She had to push the situation, take advantage. She could sort through her emotions later, but now she had to be calculating, cool, remember what was at stake. Tingling heat threaded her body, ending with an aching pulse low in her belly… Or not. “How could I lie about that, Jake? It is really obvious how I react to you.” “Yes, it is.” That tone. Emily wished she knew what was going on in his head; wished she could ask. Vain wants. Yet, he had to push it. And Jake was a much more acceptable man to take her virginity. Emily knew her fear stemmed from the belief that if she pushed too hard then Jake would stop, laugh in her face and question what the hell he was doing with someone like her. Her lips felt like wax. She looked up at him through her lashes. “Do you need another reminder?” That look. Jake cursed his body’s reaction, frowning against the hard ache that he knew only she could ease. Her light scent filled him and the memory of her taste— “Why?” Her brief burst of fake pain and the sudden glisten to her gray eyes cut through him. He ignored it. Let one man make her believe that she was resistible… But only for a few moments. He did have his plan, after all. “When everything about you, your scent, the way you move, the taste of your skin is with me. Always.” Her gaze dropped away. “That’s the nicest thing…” Cynically, he noted that her eyelashes were wet. “So compliments are rare?” A real smile touched her mouth. The first since she had entered his office. “My

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brother called me pleasantly plump.” “Brothers,” Jake muttered. “Never trust a word they say.” His hand strayed over the soft skin of her neck, slipped beneath the open collar of her blouse. He felt her sharp intake of breath. “Voluptuous.” His fingertip edged the silk, lightly caressing her skin.” Curvaceous.” Dipped lower and found the coolness of her breast. “Beautiful.” She should have some self respect. She really should. But Jake’s touch set her senses on fire, her skin burning under his touch and the unignorable heat low, low in her belly. She knew how he could make her feel, how he could spin her out of control. And then to go further. Instinctively, she licked at bone dry lips and watched Jake’s eyes darken. “Why weren’t you already taken, Emily?” The sharpness of his teeth on her earlobe made her gasp. And words just tumbled out. “Because I was waiting for you.” She felt his smile against her skin. And that simple act made her heart tighten painfully. Not falling for this man. Not falling— He gave a low chuckle. “That’s the nicest thing…” Clever caresses worked a heated magic. She knew she was standing fully clothed in his office and that he was hardly touching her. Just the lightest of quick, knowing touches on skin. Emily’s unthinking fingers slid under his jacket, finding the smooth heat of his shirt. She tugged. And then she found the hollow of his spine, tracing over hot flesh, nails grazing his skin. Jake stilled. “If that’s how you want it, Emily.” The growl of his mouth over her neck and then the crush of his body against hers. All thought dissolved. She was melting, falling into a barely breathing mass of sensitized… The ceiling? She was lying down? When… how had that happened? The cool of the leather pressed against her head, against heated skin. And Jake. With a fierce hunger in his eyes that tightened her stomach. She was not panicking. All right. Undo her blouse… but she found the buttons already open. She fought the tremor that wanted to shake her hands again. She’d gotten this far. She could get away with it. He would never realize— “Jake, Michelle’s here.” Emily leapt off the sofa, mortified that Kate should find her like. Her eyes shot to the door. Still locked. Where…? “Thanks Kate. I have something to finish. I’ll buzz.” Jake depressed the button on the intercom. “Another interruption, Emily. Perhaps my office isn’t the best place for this.” He straightened his tie. “What?” Emily swallowed suddenly nervous of the hard expression tightening Jake’s features. This whole situation was such a mess. “Michelle’s still waiting.” She felt the wobble in her smile and cursed against it. She hoped to distract as she waved her hand over her quickly buttoned blouse. “And I’m decent.” A curl of his lip that tightened her chest. “Yes.” “I should be getting back to work.” Emily edged to the door. She worked at the lock, willing the damn thing to open. “Here.” Warm fingers closed over hers. Jake’s scent wrapped around her. She needed to hate him. Hate him for depriving her of a father. Hate him for falling for Richard’s stupid seduction idea. Hate him for making her melt.

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He gripped her hand, wrist, urged her back against him— “What’s so important that I have to wait?” Only Jake’s lightning reflexes saved Emily from a door slamming into her body. “It’s polite to knock, Michelle,” he said. Still dazed, Emily stared at a young girl, possibly eight or nine. She recognized designer labels and the subtle hint of make-up. The thought flitted that Jake really shouldn’t let his daughter— That pulled her up. Fast. Was this his daughter? The coloring was there. Long, shining black hair. Olive skin. But Michelle’s eyes were a vivid blue. There’d been nothing about a daughter in those glossy celebrity magazines. “But business is dull.” Her eyes narrowed on Emily. “Who’s she?” “Michelle.” Emily heard the warning in his voice. “Enough.” The girl’s head dropped and her shoe twisted into the carpet. “Sorry, Jake.” Not his daughter. The relief surprised Emily. The idea that he’d shared such love with another woman that they had made a baby… It’d been a sharp stab of pain. And totally out of place. It was a job. To see Jake Penvenhan in any other way would only make everything worse. She knew that. Vainly, she wished someone would tell her heart. “And wash that off your face.” “But—” “You’re nine, Michelle. Not twenty-nine.” “You know how Mum feels.” “She won’t see you until Friday.” Real affection shone in his dark eyes. “Humor an old man.” “You’re not that old, Jake.” The girl turned toward a closed, paneled door. “Number Five’s much older than you.” Jake’s expression dulled as he watched as Michelle disappeared into his bathroom. “Another one. Already.” “Sorry?” He ran his fingers through his short hair. “Her mother. A fresh wallet to pay for all the little luxuries. Michelle was how she trapped my father into marrying her.” Emily stared at the closed bathroom door. Jake’s voice had been low, hard and she was glad the child hadn’t heard. “Michelle’s your sister?” He moved to his desk, staring over the neat files. “Marriage number… four. He’s on number five right now.” He looked back to the bathroom door with a strange bleakness to his gaze. “I have Michelle every half term, Easter and two weeks in the summer.” “Why?” Emily silently cursed that question. This wasn’t her place, either. “She’s my sister.” Jake looked away from the false pity in Emily’s face. He wasn’t going to explain to her. How he couldn’t abandon Michelle the way he’d been abandoned time after time. How he would grow attached to various stepbrothers and sisters and how a quick divorce and large settlement would rip them away. It annoyed him that he’d forgotten it was his week with Michelle. Guilt gnawed at him. Damn Emily Harding. Something about her had wormed its way under his skin and made him forget his first obligation. The door to the bathroom opened and Michelle reappeared, her skin clear of the make-up her mother insisted she wear. He would never marry, never have children of his own. This smiling, fresh faced little girl was his almost daughter. She would always come

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first. He looked back to Emily and pushed down the old pain of his decision. It was a fist in his gut that he still wanted this woman, even when he knew she was the lover of an animal like Richard Stokes. “Thank you, Emily. You can go.” The abrupt and cold dismissal caught her by surprise. It shouldn’t. She was the secret mistress, after all. “Yes.” Afterwards, Emily wished she had left more quickly. Shut the door and headed back to her desk. Not dawdled in the doorway, hoping that Jake would say something about Friday, say anything… “Is she your girlfriend?” Michelle’s clear voice shot a spike of need through her. “Emily’s my employee.” “She doesn’t look at you like an employee.” “You’ve been reading those trashy teenage magazines again.” Humor edged Jake’s voice and Emily hoped she was imagining the undercurrent of hardness. “Emily fulfils a function. Nothing more.” Michelle paused briefly. “D’you like anyone, Jake?” There was real worry in her tone. “I mean since… Mum…” “Only you.” The warmth in his voice made Emily close her eyes. “Always you.” The rest of the afternoon was a blur. Emily worked like an automaton. She took pride in the fact that she didn’t look away from her screen when Jake and a happily laughing Michelle swept past. She wanted to think that she was generous enough not to be envious of Jake’s obvious affection for his sister. And for a good half hour, she tried to convince herself that he was continuing the charade. But something in his tone was still making her gut twist. Vainly, she wished she could put a label to it. Jake had been involved with his father’s fourth wife. It had to be before his father married her… Didn’t it? “Did he chew you out?” Emily realized that she’d been staring at the same document for at least ten minutes. Sarah was speaking to her. “Sorry? What?” The woman nodded toward Jake’s office. “The mighty Mr. Penvenhan?” An eyebrow lifted. “You’ve had a face like a wet Wednesday all afternoon.” “Oh.” She scrubbed at her eyes, trying to get her mind back from its frozen trance. “No, no, nothing like that.” “Everything went okay with your brother?” “Installed and moaning as we speak.” “Then…” Sarah’s long, painted fingernails waved at Emily’s face. “Why the glumness?” She gave her a conspiratorial nudge. “I had heard on the grapevine that you looked sensational on Saturday and that Mr. P couldn’t take his eyes off you.” Emily fought to keep the wince from her face. “Hardly.” “That we’ll see a ring on your finger by the end of the week.” She laughed because she knew she had to. “Mrs. P? I don’t think so.” Gossip. Exactly the thing Jake didn’t want. Misery sank low in her stomach. Would he hate her for that too? “Just remember us little people when you’re jetting off around the world, dripping with jewelry and haute couture.”

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Emily let out a slow sigh, making herself play up to Sarah. That was expected too. “I promise I’ll throw you a few crumbs—” “Emily?” It took her a few seconds to realize the hand on her shoulder didn’t belong to Jake. She stared up into Anton Lucas’ pale eyes and held back a deep groan. “Yes, Mr. Lucas?” “I thought we decided on Anton.” She could feel Sarah straining to bursting point as she obviously took in the over familiar hand on her shoulder, that particular gleam to his eyes… When had her life wandered on to this disastrous path? The minute her mother had met Audrey Stokes. That’s when. “Yes. How can I help you… Anton?” She remembered her manners and a polite expression. He was still a senior executive, no matter what she thought of him. “My office, please Emily.” Panic. Going into meltdown. Her palms began to sweat. She heard Sarah mutter, “Mrs. L.” and could have kicked her. “I have to leave early. My brother’s just gotten out of hospital—” “Five minutes.” He took a vice grip and she hauled out of her seat. “All right.” Emily could feel the eyes following her as Anton practically frog marched her to his office. Anton shut the door and pushed Emily down into a chair. “What are you playing at?” “Excuse me?” “I hired you as a favor—” “You hired me?” “As if you didn’t know.” His stare burned her and she saw his knuckles whiten around the edges of the deck against which he leaned. “Richard’s timid little mouse. But you’re not, are you?” He cursed. “This was all planned from the beginning.” Anton was in on Richard’s plans? Conspiring against Jake. She had to tell him, but that would expose her part in the spiraling mess. Her gut ached with too much guilt. She let out a slow breath. “And?” “What’s Stokes’ plan?” No one was to know of his plan. That had been another condition Richard had set down. She had refused and then delayed in following the stupid scheme and Bobby had been hurt severely. Emily was not going to make another mistake. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “What does he want with Jake?” “Anton—” “No.” Too late to realize what he was doing. He gripped the arms of her chair and leaned in close. Emily shrank back. “I am not a scapegoat.” “I don’t—” “Tell Stokes that.” The bitter heat of his breath, an angered face far too close. Emily’s heart thudded and she fought the rise of panic. This really wasn’t her day. “I think I should go, Mr.

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Lucas.” “And I think that Jake would be very interested in your connection to Richard Stokes.” Emily realized Anton was out of his depth too. He was nothing compared to two players like Jake Penvenhan and Richard Stokes. “Expose me and you expose yourself.” His face flared with heat. “I’ll triple whatever he’s paying you.” Emily wished it were that simple. “I have to get home.” Anton jerked straight and his arm swept toward to the door. “I’m not keeping you.” He snorted.” Just don’t count on me as an ally.” His hand brushed over his tie, his jacket . “And I don’t envy you. Caught between the three of us.” Emily wanted to tell him that he wasn’t in Jake’s league. Instead, she straightened the creases in her skirt. “Thank you for the warning.” He turned away, an insulting dismissal. “Richard chose you, so at least you won’t be stupid enough to fall for him.” “Sorry?” “Jake.” He looked up from splashing whiskey into a crystal tumbler. “His money’s an aphrodisiac. Then there’s the whole brooding thing. I’ve seen women swoon.” A nasty smile twisted his handsome face. “And Jake just uses and abuses. Stamps over any woman stupid enough to think she can keep his interest.” He knocked back the two fingers and winced. “Nasty piece of work, my stepbrother. It’s the only thing I admire about him.” Emily wanted to believe that Anton’s view was biased, twisted. But Jake had already confirmed it with his proposition. “I won’t forget who I work for,” she murmured. “I can’t.” Anton raised an eyebrow. “So it’s like that.” His smile was cold. “There really is no hope for you.” Emily suppressed a shudder. Let him think that she harbored feelings for a monster like Richard Stokes. She did not want him picking at her feelings for Jake. Not that she had feelings… Wants, cravings… but nothing deeper. She couldn’t. “No.” “Stokes is playing his own game?” He raised another glass to her. “Well, I’m prepared. Tell him that.” “If I were you, I’d get out of this mess. Cut and run.” “Listen to yourself. You’re just a girl. Stokes will eat you alive.” He smirked. “That’s if Jake doesn’t get you first. I know what he’ll do to a woman who deceives him.” His fingers flicked to the door. “But you won’t get him this week. He’s got Annabel’s brat with him. Treats her like a daughter. And if the rumors are true, she could be. I wouldn’t put it past her. Or him.” Emily felt sick. She closed the door to Anton’s office and blinked as she found too many heads turned toward her. She caught Kate’s frown. Her eyes closed briefly. Even a short a time as Friday, everyone had been friendly. Now she felt a turn, a rush of distrust. If nothing else, it would make leaving that much easier. “Escaped alive?” Sarah’s voice invaded her tangled thoughts. “Just about.” “He didn’t look happy.” She liked Sarah, she did, but the woman was far too nosy. Maybe she’d settle down soon. After all, she’d only been working for Penvenhan International for less than a

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fortnight. “I think that’s just his nature. I have to go. Bobby’s probably broken his other leg trying to play video games.” Emily left the building on automatic. The rumors and half-truths that surrounded Jake Penvenhan swirled through her mind. She didn’t want to dwell on anything Anton Lucas had said. He burned with envy over his superior stepbrother. That had been obvious. She wanted to think that those brief flashes of humor and tenderness were the real Jake but she hardly knew the man. What he’ll do to a woman that deceives him. Her stomach tightened with the thought that he was toying with her. And the growing fear that he knew… everything.

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Chapter Six Emily smoothed shaking fingers over the skin-smooth silk. She stared at the reflection in her bedroom mirror, seeing the pouty stranger the salon had created. Again. A longer dress this time, reaching to float just above her knee. A shimmering shade of smoke that the assistant said matched her eyes. She winced. “Completely stomach churning.” She straightened the thin straps over her shoulders. “Still bought it though, didn’t I?” A slow breath escaped her. Finally, it was Friday. Days had dragged. And she’d had only one glimpse of Jake. Just one, late that morning. Emily could taste the memory. The erratic thud of her heart was still too fresh and the feeling of… hunger… that followed him to his office. That easy, confident stride. The way his sinfully expensive suit flowed with him. Eyes slid from computer screens, slyly following his progress. Nerves and something Emily would not name tightened her stomach. Jake kept office… trysts… secret. How many of the women watching him stroll past had experienced the touch of his long, clever fingers on hot flesh— The pen dug into her palm and her knuckles went white around it. She wasn’t jealous. Jealousy meant attachment. And that was so far from the truth. She knew she was attracted to him… A smile quirked her lips and her grip loosened on her pen. She rubbed at her reddened palm. A woman would have to be a long time dead not to find Jake Penvenhan magnificent. Emily bit back a laugh at her own hyperbole. “You’re doing it again.” Her gaze shot up and collided with cinnamon brown eyes. Her mouth was dry. She swallowed. “I—” “What amused you this time?” There was no way she would tell him that. Time to remember her role. “Reminiscing.” “Ah.” His finger ran lightly along the top of her thin computer screen. A dark eyebrow rose and the familiar gleam lit his eyes. Emily felt hot color rush to her face. “Good memories?” he asked. “That information’s beyond an… employer’s… purview, isn’t it?” The finger stopped. “Your employer?” The edge to his voice shot sudden nerves to her stomach. Emily had meant it as a joke. A jobbing mistress… “I do work here. You do pay my wages.” She resisted the urge to say both of them. A shiny gold credit card had been delivered by courier that morning, her full name in bold, black letters. Something about it still twisted her gut. And she wasn’t even thinking about the obscene credit limit. “Technically…” “Practical to view it as a job, Emily,” he said softly. Her skin prickled at his tone. “Some women even make it their career.” He straightened the smooth lines of his jacket. “Have a good weekend.” And then he was gone. Emily wriggled her toes into hideously expensive shoes, wincing against their impracticality. What on earth had he meant by that remark? A career? Was he already

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prepping her to move on to the next man willing to pay for her favors? Her eyes crushed tight against that thought. A kept woman. The pampered, empty life of a mistress. Running to her… benefactor… on a moment’s notice, smiling, teasing, nothing of real life intruding on snatched time. And then there was the way she wanted to view it. She had the job of his mistress. A career meant something much more permanent. Emily willed her heart to slow. “No, no, no,” she muttered, taking one last look at herself in the long wardrobe mirror. Too much bad blood between his family and hers. He’d even robbed her of her name. The shame of wanting a man from that family smothered the stupid idea that she could love him. Polished nails curled into her palms. “Painted up, dressed up.” She picked her bag up from the bed, looking over the contents. “Cosmetics, purse.” She flicked it open. “Cash, cards… that card.” Emily snapped her purse shut, not wanting to dwell on the plastic that shone as a vivid reminder of her status. The thought that they would be eating in an obviously exclusive, but public place was a balm to her straining nerves. Almost safe. A table would separate them. Keep hands from slipping, sliding… He would realize she was a virgin. Fear ate away at her calm façade. Sex with Jake was inevitable. How conceited did that sound? No, she would grab at the scrap of calm any delay bought. Her heels clicked against the hardwood flooring. She had to move, it was almost seven thirty. Her brother was an uncomfortable lump on the sofa, his leg propped and torso twisted to save bruised muscles. “How do I look? And if you say ‘pleasantly plump’ again, I’ll beat you even more black and blue with this clutch bag.” Bobby stared. He winced as he tried to scramble to sit up. Doubt started to gnaw at her stomach. Did she really look that bad? She put her hand to her throat. “Well say something, Bobby!” “Don’t do this, Em.” “Sorry?” He grabbed for his crutches and levered himself on to his feet. “I’ve got some money. You said you’re selling this place. We could get away. Somewhere Richard would never find us.” “Bobby—” “Don’t go.” Emily bit at her lip. “Do… do I really look…?” A lopsided smile. “Stunning.” “Bobby, don’t…” “It’s why you can’t go. Penvenhan’s going to take one look… Em, I know you haven’t had much experience with men—” Emily’s cheeks burned. “Ending this conversation right there!” “What kind of brother would I be if I let you go through with this?” His face grew red and his breathing was suddenly tight. His hands clenched around his crutches. Emily caught him and helped him back to the sofa. “Easy,” she murmured. “You know why I have to do this.”

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His breathing eased. “I’m not worth it. Not this.” “It’s not just you, Bobby.” She stared at her expensive shoes. He couldn’t think that it was his fault. “Richard gave me a choice.” She let out a slow sigh. “Which was no choice at all. I find what I need to find, or he and I will become… reacquainted.” He stiffened. “You? And Richard?” Emily couldn’t meet her brother’s gaze. “Long story.” She found her feet, feeling too tall and unsteady. “Believe me, it’s an incentive.” “But Penvenhan? He’s more of a shark than Richard. A worse enemy to make, Em.” This was a conversation she was not having. She glanced at her watch. “It’s almost time. Don’t wait up.” Bobby scratched at his untidy hair. “Luck doesn’t run in our family, does it?” The door buzzed. The chauffeur had arrived. Emily brushed an affectionate kiss on her brother’s forehead. “Not yet.” He gripped her hand, tight. Worried, guilty eyes held hers. “Be careful.” Emily kept her laugh light. “It’s just dinner!” “Yeah. With you as the main course.” But Emily, already closing over the front door, missed his muttered words. ***** All right, nerves ramping through the roof. The chauffeur had parked in the underground garage of an exclusive and ultra-rich residential building. Blank faced, the chauffeur opened the rear door. Emily had to kick her brain into gear. His city apartment. Not a nice, very public restaurant, but the terrifying privacy of his home. Emily gripped the door to steady herself. “If you’ll follow me, Ms Harding.” “Yes. Sorry.” The click of her shoes echoed on the dark concrete floor. The lift was already waiting, the doors open and the chauffeur with a polite smile, pressed for the top floor. He walked away as the doors silently closed. Emily let out a heated breath. Her eyes slid shut. She wanted to be in control, but this had thrown her. Her eyes opened and she stared at her reflection in the mirrored steel. “Admit it, you knew this was going to happen. Jake Penvenhan wasn’t going to parade you in public.” Her stomach growled and she stared at it. “And it doesn’t look like you’ll get fed tonight.” She gripped the lift’s steel rail. It was too hard to breathe. “Not a panic attack, not a panic attack.” She fell back against the cold wall of the lift, letting the metal cool her heated skin. “Just another step. Face it. The man’s already seen you piecemeal naked.” But her heart still hammered. She had never thought that her first time would be so important to her. That she wanted to gift it to a man she— That the man to whom she gave her virginity would at least care about her. Even a little bit. There was also the very necessary precaution that he could never know. Emily bit at her lip while worry gnawed at the pit of her stomach. And she really had no chance of telling a man like Jake Penvenhan that she was still a virgin. It’d raise too many questions. Then he’d probably throw her straight out of his bed.

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Her cheeks flared with heat and she looked away from her image in the lift doors. That thought scared her. Never to know him— The lift pinged and doors quietly parted. “You made it.” Her mouth started moving without the benefit of her brain. “It’s a lift. There was only up.” His smile made her heart do that painful flip-flop. And she knew she was staring, but at that moment she didn’t care. Jake looked… beautiful. A charcoal suit by one of the Italian designers he seemed to favor, a crisp white shirt and deep red tie. The soft golden light pooled over him. His cropped hair shone, catching slivers of gold, marking the sharp planes of his too handsome face. His smile changed. Twisted. Became something knowing and predatory. She really should breathe. But she was too aware of the molten gold of his eyes, scorching over her face, searing slowly over her exposed skin. Emily’s heart clenched. She swallowed and took a step back. Jake’s hands caught the lift doors as they threatened to close. He’d trapped her. No escape. None. But she wasn’t his prey. She wanted him too much to be a victim of his desire. “Jake—” And then to her shame, her stomach growled again. He stared, then a low laugh escaped him. “Food. Yes.” He stepped away from the lift and let her precede him. “I have to warn you Emily—” “You’ve cooked?” He tutted. “I’m a very good cook.” A sly humor edged his voice. “I’m told my breakfasts are to die for.” Breathing really was overrated. Emily thought about giving it up completely. She watched him open the only door on the short corridor leading from the lift. Coherent thought still escaped her. “Unfortunately, it won’t be just the two of us.” Disappointment tore through the haze. She stared up at him. All of her preparation had gone into the belief that Jake would sweep her off into his bedroom the first chance he got. She should be relieved. A dinner party. She would be safe… “My father and stepmother number five will be joining us.” Emily’s world crashed. ***** Jake slid the wrap from Emily’s shoulders. His fingertips stroked over her warm, bare skin and he felt her quiver. Damn, it had been a hard week. Yes. Hard in more ways than one. Michelle had proven a necessary distraction; her and catching up on work until the early hours. Anything rather than dwell… “Your father?” He didn’t miss the quaver in her voice. Something else that he hoped the report on her would reveal. He’d been promised it that day, had taken Michelle to their father’s, cleared his morning. No file. Just Emily at her desk, smiling one of her secret smiles. His jaw tightened. Why did he want her when he knew that she was another man’s

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mistress? Jake knew himself to be a better, a more honorable man than that. Emily Harding was proving an exception. That stupid little scene in the lift. Where was his control? “I made him spend time with Michelle.” He shrugged and moved away. Her soft, vanilla scent taunted him. “Now he wants to disrupt my evening.” “He knows I’m here?” Fear lurked in her voice. And something else. Something that sounded almost… bitter. “He was intrigued by the woman who could keep me in on a Friday night.” She was blushing again. “Have you said that I’m your…” The red of her cheeks deepened. If it were real, it’d be endearing. But no woman blushed that much. It was a constant reminder of her subterfuge and it annoyed him. “ …mistress?” He raised an eyebrow. “Unlike my father, I don’t deliberately parade my personal life through every tabloid and magazine.” “So he thinks I’m… what? A good friend? Someone from the office? Hired help?” “My cleaners are both in their fifties. You’d be a pleasant change.” A smile deliberately curled his mouth. “Very pleasant.” Huge eyes stared at him. No witty remark? Yes. Emily was more nervous than he’d ever seen her. Was she scared that his father would expose her? That a relative would point out her seduction and supposedly break her thrall over him? Jake broke his gaze, focused on the glasses, the wine on a side table. He began to pour. No. That wasn’t the sort of relationship he had with Frederick Penvenhan. But his instincts told him it was something more. He glanced at his watch. Eight fifteen. Almost time. What connection did Emily have with his father? His hand stilled the wine bottle. He tried to stop the turn of his thoughts as easily as he’d stopped the flow of the wine. He failed. Richard Stokes’ mistress, a woman happy to be used, to seduce— “Jake?” Cautious fingers touched his arm and then shied away from the iron tightness of his muscles. “Jake? Are you all right?” “Would you prefer white?” Emily blinked. “Sorry?” Jake held up the bottle and forced out words, fighting against the burn in his gut. “It’s a very good red. But…” “Red’s fine.” Why the hell had his security delayed their report? He should have been facing this meal with Emily Harding an open book. Instead, his mind conjured unsettling scenarios— The buzz that told him that his father had arrived. Jake knocked back half a glass, barely tasting the liquid. “Excuse me,” he muttered. “That must be them.” He was over reacting. His father was all too happy to tell him of his latest dalliance. His “little meetings,” as he called them. Seemed to revel in it. He would’ve told Jake about an Emily… Thoughts of Annabel, Michelle’s mother, surfaced again. The only woman to have his heart. Strangely that thought didn’t bring with it the usual bitter selfrecrimination at the young idiot he’d been. The years had softened the anger. He knew now that she had used him to get to Frederick Penvenhan. But she had dazzled him, tempted him. He still remembered sitting in an expensive and very public restaurant when she

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appeared. The flash of a huge diamond. And her slender arm through Frederick’s, covered by that man’s possessive fingers. There’d been something in his father’s eye. Over the years, Jake had realized that it was triumph. He sucked in a slow breath. “Another reason never to marry,” he muttered, striding to the private lift. The idea that he could ever be that vindictive to his own child sickened him. He’d promised himself from an early age that he would never turn into his father. Seeing him was rare, sitting down to dinner with the man was even rarer. The thought of the evening stretched out unpleasantly before Jake. “Margot.” Dutifully, he kissed his latest stepmother. A woman approaching her fifties, an unusual choice for Frederick. But Jake suspected that a will of iron hid under that softly powdered and perfumed cheek. Now that Margot had her claws in Frederick, she wouldn’t settle for a quick divorce and a substantial check. “Stunning. As always.” Her wide, gleaming smile never reached her pale blue eyes. “And you look very well.” Her voice still held the subtle hint of a French accent. “As always.” “Father.” “Jake.” Frederick Penvenhan patted his wife’s arm as it slipped through his. “And before you ask, Michelle is safely installed at her mother’s.” “Personally?” Frederick bristled. “Of course.” Something flickered in his eyes and Jake knew that his father had sent her alone with his chauffeur. Which, he supposed, was an improvement on the last time: putting a seven year old in a black cab with a fifty pound note. “Did the chauffeur see her inside?” “To the door.” His voice was clipped, angry. “And don’t start—” “We came for dinner, not for an argument,” Margot broke in smoothly. “Yes.” Jake shook off the familiar anger. He waved his arm along the short corridor. Anticipation burned in his gut. He wanted to see Emily’s face, needed to see her reaction. His instinct told him that she knew his father. And he had very good instincts. Jake rubbed the tension from his neck. Damn it, he could have stopped this dinner. Why hadn’t he? He closed the door to his apartment and followed them through to the drawing room. Emily looked up. Impression bombarded him. The way her knuckles whitened around the heavy glass. The compression of her full lips. The rapid pulse at the base of her throat and the color draining from her face. His gaze flicked to his father and caught a quick narrowing of his eyes, but nothing more. Jake resisted the urge to close his eyes, to sink back against the wall and scrub his face with his hands. Why did he feel like he’d been punched in the stomach? He was right. So what? It couldn’t change his plan. He straightened and felt the pleasant mask shift over his face. No. It hadn’t. Emily realized she was staring and shot her gaze back to her glass. Had Frederick Penvenhan recognized her? That didn’t seem possible. She had only been a child, barely twelve years old, when he had last seen her. Her stomach tightened, remembering her mother’s pleas for help now that she was sick… Had he seen something of her mother in her? Or her father? Frederick had been the junior partner to his older brother, but he had been there when the scandal broke. Had dragged her father through the courts, stripped him of his good name. Her chin lifted.

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Yes, she needed the reminder of whose son Jake Penvenhan was. Needed to remember the little girl she had been. The one sitting on the floor beside her unconscious father, a cold receiver pressed to her ear, trying to tell a woman she didn’t know that her daddy wouldn’t wake up… “Emily, this is my father, Frederick, and my stepmother, Margot.” She shivered as Jake’s fingers lightly caressed her bared spine. They slid lower and came to rest on her hip. The heat bled through the thin material, burned against her cool skin. An animal reaction. Nothing more. Emily fixed a smile on her face. “Emily.” Frederick took her hand. She could fell the press of his fingertips into her palm and she wanted to rip away from his heated touch. “Frederick.” With relief, she pulled her hand free, not caring at her lack of manners. She stopped herself from scrubbing her hand hard against her thigh. She met Margot’s eyes and the coldness there shocked her. She wanted to take comfort in Jake’s warm fingers that still splayed her hip, the security of his arm that tucked her close into his body. Wanted to. But she knew that Jake was playing a game with his father; could feel the tension in the air. Could Margot know who she was? The older woman played with one of the huge diamonds crowding her fingers. She didn’t look up as she said, “So you… work… for Jake.” Emily hadn’t missed the slight emphasis to Margot’s accented voice. “Yes.” She swallowed, wanting to suppress her nerves. “Junior PA.” “Mixing work with your personal life, Jake?” Margot’s smile, meant to be pleasant, but Emily felt the sharpness of it. “That’s not like you.” Pale eyes narrowed and Emily could see the family resemblance. Anton was there in her face. “You must be very special.” “Well that’s obvious!” Emily didn’t like the sudden gleam in Frederick’s eyes, the way his gaze traveled all too slowly over her exposed skin. Jake’s fingers tightened on her hip. And stupidly she found comfort in that reaction. “Come through to the dining room.” Jake’s hand brushed over her bared spine, deliberately, slowly and Emily found it very difficult to put one foot in front of the other. Her heels clicked against the pale wood floor. She concentrated on an even beat and ignored the rush of blood, the pounding of her heart to a faster, hotter rhythm. And she could only feel shame. Shame that she should melt into a gooey mess when the man who had destroyed her father, ruined her life, Frederick Penvenhan was only a few feet away. Back through the entrance hall, decorated in the pale flooring and stark white that Jake seemed to favor. Everything was immaculate. The gleam of the large mirror reflected them. Emily bit at her lip. The tight anger in Jake’s face. And Frederick. Emily was conscious of looking for a resemblance, but Jake had inherited only his father’s coloring. Frederick Penvenhan’s face was too gaunt, pinched, to be thought attractive. Sour lines cut his cheeks, dragged at his mouth. But now there was a nasty twist to his thin lips and something in his eyes that she could only call… covetous. Emily’s stomach lurched at the idea that she was the focus of that want. “Are you all right, Emily?”

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She pulled in her thoughts. “Fine.” She smiled, but felt it falter when she caught the unexpectedly hard glint in Jake’s dark eyes. “Just hungry.” “Really?” How did he load that single word with so much meaning? Emily found herself doubting what she had seen in his gaze only moments before. As for Frederick, that had to be madness. Nerves were shredding her common sense. “And since you haven’t cooked, I should be safe.” Jake pulled out an ornately carved chair for her and saw her seated. She almost jumped as his lips brushed her ear. “Oh, you’re far from safe, Emily Harding.” Heat pooled low in her belly at the promise in his voice. Her hands practically wrung the linen napkin she held. That breathing thing again. She made her hand steady and splashed mineral water into a glass but there was a tremor as she lifted the glass to her lips. An unladylike gulp did little to ease her parched mouth. Not when she was all too aware that Jake watched her from across the long table. Candlelight dropped a sliver of gold into his cinnamon brown eyes, emphasized the sharp angles of his too handsome face. A smile twitched his firm lips. Sly humor shone from him. And Emily knew she was lost. Her gaze dropped to the sparkling water and briefly, she watched the rush of bubbles. Her heart was a heavy, unwanted stone in her chest. It was a complete betrayal. She could not, did not… “Emily?” …love him. Completely. Utterly. And that was just a stupid idea! A man she had known for a week, eight days. It was just hormones, an overwhelming physical attraction to a stunning man. Just a burst of primitive lust. Lust. Yes, lust. “Emily?” Her head jerked up and she met Jake’s concerned gaze. Emily tightened her jaw against the warmth of affection that made her heart run faster. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin and put a smile on her face. It hurt. “Oh, you caught me… reminiscing… again.” “It’s getting to be a habit,” Jake murmured. His voice licked her skin and unconsciously she shifted over the soft padding of her chair. Jake caught the movement— A sharp snap. Emily jumped. Frederick had flapped his napkin open. How had she forgotten there were two other people in the room? “So how long have you worked for our company?” Emily stared and her mouth started to open, but her mind could only focus on the promise in Jake’s voice. “Six weeks.” “Really? Only that?” The words were out before she realized she had spoken. Then the thought hit her. Jake knew how long she had worked in his office. She wanted to believe it was significant, that he couldn’t offer up the same information for any other employee. “Why?” Jake lifted an eyebrow. “Does it seem longer?” She smiled and for once could answer him honestly. “Forever and no time at all.”

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“Atkins tells me you still haven’t solved that disappearing money—” “No!” Emily watched Jake take a slow breath before he spoke again. The gaze that fixed on the older man was hard, commanding. “But it’s in hand.” “If you need me to sort it…” Frederick waved a silver fork. “I did run the company for fifteen years.” “It’s in hand.” His father stabbed at seared scallop. “I would have resolved this by now,” he muttered. “There was no financial misdealing on my watch. I proved that when that idiot Armstrong thought he could take advantage of Andrew’s death. After what happened to him, well…” He shrugged and looked… satisfied. Emily knew the blood had drained from her face. Her jaws moved mechanically as she made herself chew the food still in her mouth. More cold water helped her swallow the untasted lump. Armstrong. The name she’d been born with; the one her mother changed. Her father. The horrible, obnoxious old man was being… smug… about the fact that he had ruined her father and ultimately drove him to suicide. Everything, everything Richard had told her was true. “Changing the subject,” Margot said lightly. “No business talk. So Emily.” The cold, reptile grin barely registered. “Is your family from this area?” She almost choked. They had to know who she was. Had to. And had now decided to play their own evil little game. All too soon, one of them would drag Jake to one side and tell him exactly who Emily Harding really was. She lifted her chin. But until that happened she would continue to stay outwardly calm and composed. She had faced worse things than Margot Penvenhan’s nasty sniping. Yes. Much worse. “I have no family.” She smoothed the napkin covering her lap. “Well, there’s my younger brother, Bobby.” “And you support him?” Emily’s skin prickled at the question. She could sense an undercurrent to Margot’s questions. She really should’ve walked away when Jake said that his father and stepmother would be joining them. But she had no intention of playing this particular game. Whatever it was. “Yes. He’s had a run of bad luck.” “That must be a drain.” Was his stepmother doing this for Jake’s benefit, trying to put him off a woman who could bring a financial black hole to their relationship? Bobby did suck up her money. He had lived too long with the Stokes’, enjoyed their wealthy lifestyle, became dependent on that wealth. But she would never admit that. Not when her mother had begged for the Penvenhan family’s help and met a cold rebuff. “Far from it.” Margot’s eyes narrowed and Emily could feel her dislike. “How fortunate.” Emily smiled at one of the catering staff who took away her empty plate before she turned her gaze back to Margot. “Once he’s back on his feet then he’ll be quite capable of supporting himself.” Well, her brother had always called her optimistic. Another plate slid gracefully on to the table. Pasta, layered with mushrooms. Her fork speared a mouthful. Margot was blissfully forgotten. And she had to stop herself from audibly sighing. Lobster. She had always loved—

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“So it meets with your approval?” She heard the humor in Jake’s voice and told herself that it wasn’t a jibe. And in that moment, still basking in the glow of good food, she really didn’t care. “Another lap around the park, but it’s worth it.” “Yes, another runner,” Frederick said. The twist to his features made Emily’s skin crawl. “I run three miles every day! Jake goes to a gym, probably drives there, to pump and sweat on some outlandish contraption. Imagine.” And she did. An image of Jake, stripped, hard, sleek muscles working, flexing with a gleam of sweat on brown skin burst over her. She pressed her thighs together, trying to contain the sudden low ache and her gaze found the safety of her plate. “No. What you need is a more mature man. One not distracted by the burden of running a business. One very able to devote hours to your pleasure—” Frederick yelped and glared at his wife. Emily had barely been listening to Frederick’s babble. The need to tug loose Jake’s expensive tie, finally to see that hard body her fingers had so briefly touched… Knuckles whitened around her cutlery. She had to stop this obsession, this overwhelming reaction. Emily risked a glance and found Jake’s attention on her. His expression killed her fantasy. Something hard, cold, unrelenting. His father hadn’t just… Oh God, had Frederick just propositioned her? Jake obviously thought he had. He would throw her out with the next course. She had failed. She couldn’t think what it meant for Bobby. Or for her.

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Chapter Seven Damn his father! Anger curled tight in his stomach. Frederick had never thought his money held a woman’s attention. He was sixty two and still thought he could keep women in his thrall with his paper-thin charm. Jake’s jaw clenched. His father had just propositioned the woman who could be his son’s girlfriend, possibly even his future daughter-in-law. He pushed that last thought out of his head. Yes. Doing what Frederick was doing what he’d done with Annabel. And what game was Emily playing? Once again the blushing, smiling innocent that had hooked… supposedly hooked him. He fought the urge to charge from the room dragging Emily with him and demand how she knew his father. He had caught her gaze unconsciously flicking to Frederick throughout the first course. “Excuse me.” Emily. Leaving the table. “I just have to… go…” She waved vaguely at the double doors behind her. “Excuse me.” “Frederick, what are you doing?” Margot’s smooth accent was suddenly grating. “Am I expected to sit here and watch you toy with that girl?” Jake scrubbed a hand over his face. Here was another reason he hadn’t sat down to dinner with his father in ten years. And it sickened him that Frederick still gloried in the fact that he had hounded a man to his death; a man who hadn’t fully defended himself in court. Jake knew he had a hard reputation, and it was justified, but he was fair. Except with a woman’s betrayal. That had always been an entirely different matter. “She’s just another money drain like that harlot, Annabel—” Jake wasn’t listening. He slapped his napkin on to the table. “She’s bound to get lost,” he muttered to no one in particular and followed Emily out of the room. She had vanished from the long corridor. His father’s whining reply echoed from the dining room. Jake let out a slow breath, but it didn’t help. Anger still gnawed at him. He strode away, burning with the need to question Emily. “This doesn’t compromise the plan,” he muttered.” Just call me a jealous lover.” He held back a laugh as he knocked on the bathroom door. “Yeah. Right.” He paused and listened. Running water? “Emily?” Mumbled words he couldn’t catch. The heavy clunk of the door lock. “Worried I’d get lost?” “Maybe.” Her gaze flicked back to the bright, gleaming bathroom. “I did find the kitchen and two bedrooms first.” She was not going to spin her humor around him. “Back inside.” The pulse beat rapidly at the base of her throat. “Sorry?” “Bathroom.” He backed her into the square room, shut and locked the door. “Jake.” She swallowed, stumbling over the smooth-tiled floor. “Your parents are in the dining room—” He stopped when her spine hit the porcelain sink. Hands on either side, gripping the bowl, secured her. Jake could practically smell her fear. That and something else;

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something that made his knuckles tighten. No. He wasn’t distracted. Just angry. Very, very angry. “How do you know my father?” Emily stared. And tried very hard not to panic. Had he known all along? Knew who she was and that this was all a charade? No. No. It had been a question, not a statement. She still had the chance to wriggle free. Metaphorically. Jake was too close; his hard body pressed up against hers. “I don’t.” Fire blazed in his dark eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Emily!” All right, he knew something, but what? Had Frederick mentioned something when she had escaped to the bathroom? Time to bend the truth. “Once. I had one meeting with him.” The fire died in his gaze. But something worse replaced it, an icy… loathing. “Just the once?” Emily really couldn’t breathe. Pressed against the sink, her spine ached and he was crushing her ribs. “Jake, I really—” She didn’t finish. With a guttural curse, Jake wrenched his hands away. Emily watched him rake fingers through his hair. What had incensed him? It wasn’t a lie, not really. She had met Frederick Penvenhan only once before, she’d simply left out the details of when and with whom. She had to keep up the act. “Jake, I don’t understand? What’s the matter?” Was he supposed to be pleased that it was just once? He knew the pain in his gut was disgust, disgust that she thought nothing of sleeping with him after… Cursing didn’t help. Her mask had slipped. Did she think that he was so besotted that having a history with his father wouldn’t concern him? He crushed his eyes shut. “What’s the matter?” He turned and caught the look of confusion on her flushed face. Anger surged. “What’s the matter?” He gripped her upper arms. There was fear in her eyes. Was it fear that she had misjudged him? “When were you going to tell me?” Her mouth opened in silent protest, her full bottom lip trembled and he hated the fact that he wanted to taste her, feel her melt— “Damn it, Emily, you’ve slept with my father!” “I’ve what?” What sort of man would accuse her of that? “I have never slept with—” Emily bit off the rest of her words. She’d been about to admit that she had never slept with anyone. “I have never slept with your father.” Her eyes lifted. “Would never.” The painful grip of his fingers eased. But his silence unnerved her. “Why would you even think…?” His large, warm hand gently cupped her cheek and a mocking smile pulled at his mouth. “Because you are a very beautiful woman and my father collects them like trophies. And you kept looking at him with the past in your eyes.” Beautiful? He thought she was beautiful? No one had ever… Then his other words penetrated the daze caused by the unexpected compliment. “I was twelve, Jake.” He let out a slow breath. “Then stop flirting with him.” “What?” Emily wished she could just walk out of his apartment. He thought she was flirting with Frederick? “I was not—” Jake placed a finger over the angry line of her mouth. “You’re mine. No one else’s.” Emily knew she should be insulted. She wasn’t chattel, didn’t belong to anyone. But the low intensity in Jake’s voice, the dark conviction in his eyes held her. Her stomach

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dropped and her mouth ran dry with anticipation. “Am I?” “My father took Michelle’s mother from me.” The shock of that statement reverberated through Emily. What sort of father would do that? “I’m—” “He won’t take you.” His hand slid down over her curves, drawing her close to the hardness of his body. Jake held her eyes and her soul felt stripped. “Would you like me to be quick,” his gaze burned, “or not?” “I…” She swallowed and couldn’t answer him. “I’ve always enjoyed women,” he murmured. Her spine found the edge of the cool porcelain sink. Again. But so, so different. Jake had backed her into it without her realizing. “Exploring them, making them sigh, moan, scream…” His fingers slid beneath the thin straps of her dress and let them fall. Emily tried to breathe. This wasn’t just proving that he was a better prospect than his father. She had to cling to that thought. He’d obviously believed her; probably seen the horror… Thoughts of that vile old man disintegrated. The trail of Jake’s hot touch over her skin… And not thinking about the quota, of being just one woman in so many. No. Not thinking at all. A smile curled his mouth as he watched his fingers explore her shoulder, the full curve of her breast, and it filled her with an unexpected heat. “You have such beautiful skin.” He looked up, his eyes hot and dark. “I want to explore all of it. . .” “You do?” “Should I make it more obvious?” The burn of his mouth on the coolness of her neck, hands that molded her, stroked her. She sucked in a breath. “Convinced?” “Yes…” The press of his body into hers. Hard. Emily’s head fell back. She should be trying to protect herself, shield her heart. But the addictive heat of Jake’s touch; for a brief moment he was hers, just hers. “God, yes.” “I think you need more convincing.” Why was he still talking? His fingers, slow, sure, were slipping, sliding up her leg, finding the bare skin beneath. “What?” All coherent thought had dissolved. Emily could feel only the thrum of her blood, the tight ache of her flesh. And her love. That twisted her heart, the pain sharp and bitter. It hurt. To love a man who would never— Unthinking, her fingers tightened in this thick, dark hair. “Don’t be impatient, Emily.” A soft murmur against her collarbone. He paused and his hand slid higher to the curve of her buttock. “We have all night.” Emily fought to regain some control. “But your parents…” Jake briefly lifted his head and the wicked smile on his mouth shot desire to her core. “There’s something I have to do first.” His clever fingers, slow, hard. Already he knew her, knew how to make her moan against the pleasured torture at which he was a master. Emily crushed her eyes against the tightness… Too long since his fingers had taken this path. Far too… “There. Just. There—” An orgasm ripped through her. Fierce. Blinding. It was so wrong to find such joy from this man… but it felt too right, too natural. Jake held her up. Vaguely, she heard his chuckle. “That’s only the first of many.”

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Emily’s head was spinning and the words tumbled from her lips. “D’you promise?” He pulled a gentle kiss from her trembling mouth. “I’m a man of my word, Emily.” His quick fingers slipped her dress back into place and he stepped back. Emily shivered at the loss of contact, of the warmth of his body. “And now I think I should tell my father and Margot to leave.” She blinked. “But your dinner party, the food…” “What would you rather do, Emily? Go back into that dining room; bear the snipes of my stepmother, the crude remarks of my father… Or…” His finger traced the softness of her lips. “… we go into my bedroom and lock the door until Monday.” Anticipation and panic warred within her. What she felt for Jake was a tumult of raw and mixed emotions and she just wanted a quiet moment. “Are you turning me down?” Her head snapped up. “Sorry?” “Your silence.” He gestured to the closed door. “Do you have a better offer?” Nerves had her chest tight. “How could I?” “Then turn left out of here. The door at the end of the corridor is my bedroom. Wait for me there.” Jake watched her leave before the heels of his hands dug into his eyes. He let out a slow breath. It had all gotten out of hand. Again. How the hell did Emily keep doing this to him? His plan had been to wait for the report before he took the damn woman to his bed. Now, she would be happily wandering around his bedroom… Or not. Her sudden reluctance had screamed at him. And instead of backing down, instead of letting her return to the dining room and sit out the rest of the night in his father’s awful company, he had sent her to his bedroom. He stared at the long mirror, not seeing his reflection. Did she feel loyalty to Richard Stokes at the final hurdle? Her reaction to him wasn’t faked, he knew that much. “This was the idea,” he muttered. “Push her so she breaks her loyalty to Stokes.” He realized he was frowning; that his jaw was tight. He straightened and resettled his jacket, fixed his tie. “This weekend is just me and her. No one else.” He ignored the ache gnawing at his gut. It wasn’t guilt. It wasn’t self disgust at using her in such a way. Emily Harding had started this game. Jake smoothed down his hair. Someone should have told her he always played to win. ***** Emily perched on the edge of the vast bed. She knotted her damp hands in her lap. Her eyes fixed on her impossible strappy sandals. The polish on her toenails shone in the soft, golden lamplight. She refused to think about nothing more than how the polish caught the light, because if she did— Emily shot upright. Her feet started to pace the carpet. “What am I doing? He’s going to realize, and then question after question until the truth is out, and then…” Her frantic pacing stopped. “And then I’ll never see him again.” She bit at her lip. She hoped that her father could forgive her for wanting Jake Penvenhan so much. Her eyes burned, but no tears fell. She had to relax. So she slipped off her shoes and let her bare feet scrunch into the deep softness of the carpet. “Relaxing,” she murmured. “Not over thinking.” Her gaze wandered around the room for the first time, taking in the two floor to ceiling curved

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windows and the balcony beyond. And her traitorous mind wondered what it would be like to wake up in that huge bed with bright spring sunlight flooding the pale room. To turn and see Jake sleeping, covers flung carelessly over his very naked body. And to experience the simple joy of having his scent on her skin… “Romantic idiot!” She rubbed at the tense muscles in her neck. He enjoyed women. Had admitted the fact only moments before. Her first time would be good. Emily winced against that thought. It felt mechanical, base. And that was the last thing she wanted with the man she loved. Emily sank onto the bed. “That word again.” It hurt. A pain lodged in her chest. The fall had been instantaneous. Emily had never believed in love at first sight; still didn’t. Even when it had so obviously happened to her. And why him? There were so many men in the world, ones not connected to her father’s death, to a stupid plot hatched by Richard Stokes. “Should’ve been someone safe, average, uncomplicated—” “Emily?” “Jake!” What had she said out loud? She willed her hands not to tighten into a single nervous knot and stood before him. Words sprang to her mouth. “Has everyone gone?” “This way.” He stood by the open bedroom door. Emily felt fear crawling up to her throat. His father or stepmother had said something. About her naïve attempts to beguile him or worse, that she was the daughter of Roger Armstrong. “Where—” Warm, long fingers closed around hers and tugged her forward. It was over. Emily couldn’t ignore the disappointment. The slow pad of her feet over the hall carpet, taking her away from his bedroom… The leaden weight of her heart. And something else. Something that felt like a tiny burst of relief. Not over sleeping with Jake. No. That was a bitter regret already burning her gut. But the relief that she could finally stop the lies. That Jake could make a decision about who she really was, not who she pretended to be. Emily tongue pressed against her teeth. Would it better to confess all before he confronted her with it? “Jake.” She swallowed against her suddenly dry mouth. She plunged on. “I have to make… I want you to understand—” He stopped. Unreadable eyes held hers. His thumb caressed the line of her jaw and she fought hard not to lean into that wanted touch. “Understand what?” Nerves ate away at her courage. Anton’s acidic words echoed too clearly in her mind. What Jake would do to a woman who deceived him… ”Where are we going?” His finger stopped and curled away. “Here.” He opened the door on to what Emily knew to be the kitchen. When she had found it, the caterers had been in the middle of ordered chaos preparing the next course. Now the long room was silent, empty of people. She blinked. Someone had set the small breakfast table. The soft glow of candles spilled over a crisply white tablecloth, gleamed over the antique silverware. Her confession dried. She wanted this moment; could not sully it with something as horrible as the truth. And didn’t this prove that Jake was not going to confront her? For a

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brief moment, she warred with her conscience. However, Jake had taken her hand again, guiding her toward a softly padded chair. All good thought scattered. “Where did everyone go?” Her hands curled into her lap as Jake shucked off his jacket and loosened the tight knot of his tie. Emily tried and failed to deny the sudden fire low in her belly. Casual, relaxed, Jake Penvenhan was deadly. He dropped into his chair and pulled apart the intricate construction of his napkin, seemingly unaware of his effect on Emily. “The caterers? Packed up and gone. They did leave us what they’d already prepared.” His eyes held hers, gleaming in the candlelight. “The dessert is up to us.” Her skin was on fire. Her eyes stared down at the plate, heavy with the lobster she had abandoned an age ago. But she had to keep the conversation going. Jake could never know how much he overwhelmed her. “And… and your parents?” “Margot was already dragging my father out of the door. Seems she felt his behavior was inappropriate too.” “I wasn’t flirting with him.” “It’s just what you do?” Was he remembering Michelle’s mother and her betrayal? “No.” She picked up her knife and fork, willing an appetite. “Not at all.” “Then it’s just me?” She gave him an arch smile she didn’t feel. “Yes.” She had to move the conversation away from such an uncomfortable subject. And some insane part of her needed to push; needed to know if he suspected her. But that would be stupid. A safe topic, something innocuous. Before Emily realized, her mouth was moving: “Was your father trying to prove a point?” Idiot! Any other subject than his father. What was she thinking? “I mean…” She stared at her plate, wanting the ground to swallow her up. Emily pulled in her courage and lifted her eyes to Jake. There was a hardness to his gaze… then it was gone. She began to doubt she had seen it at all. “I’m sorry, it’s not my place to ask that. It just threw me, I suppose.” Jake stabbed at a mushroom. “He was.” “He really was hitting on me?” “It’s an irritating habit he’s got.” And a wry smile tugged at Jake’s mouth. “Can we drop this subject?” “More than happy to.” She resisted the urge to scrub at her eyes. She found Jake staring at her and realized that she had let out a low sigh. “Is the evening not going as you planned?” There was too much subtext to that question. And Jake knew it. It showed in the sardonic gleam in his eyes. “Maybe.” Jake leaned back into his chair. “So what were you expecting?” Should she answer truthfully? All her actions seemed to arrow to this moment. Richard’s threats and schemes. Her past with the Penvenhan family. And Jake. In the silence, she let herself soak in the hard beauty of his face. Did he know who she was? And if this was some sort of cruel game, Emily knew it would destroy her. She loved this man; wanted, needed him. That fact gave her words. A wry smile lifted her mouth. “Definitely not this much talking.”

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So she had overcome the guilt at betraying Stokes. Jake pushed to his feet, aware that Emily’s huge, dilated eyes followed his every movement. She wanted him. And he had given her a way out. A salve to his conscience. Jake had to admit to himself that he was curious. More than curious. Well, it had been more than almost two months since he’d had sex. A man could forget what to do— Damn it. Her sense of humor was rubbing off on him. Jake held out his hand. Emily stared at it and he watched her swallow. The act to the very end. And it wasn’t bothering him. That was unsettling. “It won’t bite.” Her slender fingers slipped into his and his own tightened. Cool, soft skin and that slight tremor. “But I might.” “We never finished our game of billiards…” Her nervousness surprised him. “What did you want if you won?” Her gaze dropped away and she looked back up at him through her lashes. “You.” Jake ignored the tightness in his heart. “Then it’s a draw.” His eyes narrowed. “Until the next time.” Emily’s heart was in her throat. Excitement mixed with fear made her head light. She hadn’t expected to be gently led to his bedroom. She couldn’t hold back the smile. He had almost ravished her in the lift… “You’re smirking, Emily. Stop it.” The bedroom door closed over with a sharp click. Emily suddenly felt gauche, awkward. She had expected a rush of unthinking passion that propelled her naturally into his arms. She should have known it wouldn’t be as simple as that. It was hard for her to meet Jake’s gaze. What was she supposed to do? “Nervous, Emily?” The laughter in his voice made her feel more inexperienced than ever. “Don’t you get nervous… the first time… with someone new?” The slow trace of his thumb along her jaw. “It’s more like anticipation.” “And I’ve never seen you even remotely undressed.” Her voice was almost to herself and so his soft chuckle surprised her. Emily pulled in her courage and looked up, holding his gaze. “There could be a corset under there.” He spread his arms wide. “Then undress me.” His head tilted. “Find out for yourself.” “I—” Emily swallowed. Oh God, he had just made everything worse. Her hands were already trembling. She couldn’t admit that she had never undressed a man. That the only man she had seen in any state of undress was her brother. “Aren’t you curious, Emily?” Her mouth went dry as she edged forward. A hand tentatively slid to his chest. Body heat radiated through the thin material. Too tall, he was too tall. Unconscious pressure had him edging backwards until he sank to the end of his bed. Her fingers skimmed his collar, dipped down toward his loosened tie. Her tongue wet her lips and pulled it free. Her pulse seemed to vibrate through her body. She fumbled over the first button and then the second, her fingertips achingly aware of hot skin, of the light brush of chest hair. Emily knew her cheeks were pink and that now familiar ache was building. A tie and two… three… shirt buttons and she was a melting mess— “It’s disconcerting.”

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Was that strain in his voice? “What is?” Emily didn’t look up, but her fingers found another button and accidentally caressed the hard, hot skin beneath. Amazed, she felt Jake shiver. Feeling bold, her fingertips returned, lightly tracing the sharp definition of his stomach muscles. Instinct took her closer, the ache low in her belly increasing as she finally, finally made full body contact. Her lips found the smooth, sharp plane of his jaw. His taste was addictive. A subtle hint of aftershave, soap and Jake’s skin. And then his fingers gently caressed her neck, throat, lifted her chin until her eyes met his. Molten gold had dilated almost to black with his desire. “This need to kiss you.” “But I haven’t finished undressing you!” “Next time.” And Jake’s mouth drove out all other thought.

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Chapter Eight Jake pulled back. Disappointment surged in a thick wave through her entire body. He didn’t want her, he didn’t… Something feral gleamed in his molten gaze and her insides squeezed tight. That look. The one that made it difficult to breathe, to think. The look that said he wanted to eat her whole. “No. I can’t rush this.” He slipped a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I want to explore you.” Words caught in her throat and Emily melted, dissolved into the wild thrum of her blood, the aching need to throw herself— “Wait, Emily.” His thumb traced along her jaw. “I promise. Waiting will be worth it.” A tortured dream wrapped around her as he undressed her, warm fingers slow, almost reverent as they slipped under the thin straps of her dress. She shivered at the delicate brush of his skin over hers. Such a simple touch but it burned a searing path of need. “Jake, please…” Oh God, she was begging, actually begging. “No.” Hands slid all too slowly down her bare arms. The pressure of his thumbs caught a sensitivity Emily had never imagined. She gasped, her body of its own volition weaving closer to Jake. “And no touching.” “That’s, that’s—” “Mean?” A lazy finger played with her pouting lower lip. “You can reprimand me.” The gleam in his eyes made her heart thud out of control. “Later. Now where was I?” The heat of his hands on her body. Emily could barely breathe. Desire and fear pulsed through her. But she couldn’t tell him, couldn’t share something so important. Jake frowned against the tiny buttons that kept the material clinging stubbornly to her curves. “Turn around.” His voice was almost a growl and Emily found it impossible to disobey. She relished the feel of his large, warm hands light but firm on her hips. And always the dull, hot ache low in her pelvis, fuelled by the desperate need to stop this torment and find the wild, instinctive rush that had gripped them moments before. That would have driven out her fears. There would have been no time to dwell on the problem of her lack of experience, her virginity. Cool air on her exposed back. Emily started, the sudden sensation propelling her thoughts back to what Jake was doing. Her bra fell away. A hot spurt of panic raced through her and automatic hands shot to conceal her breasts. “Relax.” The murmur of his voice, almost caressed her spine. No… not his breath but the light, sure touch of his fingertips down, down and then the full heat of his hands on her skin. Emily gasped, melting, needing more than the tortured play of his fingers. “Jake?” Was that her voice? Begging? Again. His hands easily turned her and Emily’s gaze slid involuntarily down his half open shirt. She could hardly believe her instinctive reaction. Her tongue wet her lower lip in needy anticipation.

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“How do you want me?” “Any way I can get you.” Emily’s instant, unthinking reply brought a flaring heat to her face. Her eyes closed and she only just stopped herself from groaning. One day her brain would kick in before her mouth. But obviously not today. “I mean—” Jake stood and Emily stumbled back. Too tall. Too… There was that evil smile and she felt his dark eyes devouring her. Her heart lurched. She wanted to find more there; that his desire came with love. A hand cupped her face, Jake’s thumb brushing slowly over her mouth and for a brief second she thought she saw— “The perfect mistress.” —nothing. Hope crumbled. Why would a man like Jake Penvenhan love a woman like her? It was a miracle that he found her in anyway attractive. What had she expected? That he would declare undying love for a woman he’d known for eight short days? Emily started as his hands curved around her bare shoulders. “You’re shivering,” he murmured She bit at her lip and willed away the burn in her eyes. She didn’t cry. Emily Harding never cried. “I’m cold.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I am half naked, in case you hadn’t noticed.” “Oh, I’d say definitely more than half.” It would be so much easier if she didn’t like him, if he didn’t have the ability to make her smile when that was the last thing she wanted to do. “And I must find a way to warm you up.” “Cocoa?” Her sense of humor was back and she knew why. Nerves. Alone with Jake, naked… The edge bed of the bed brushed against the back of her thighs. Emily’s blood pounded. “Hot milk?” It was almost a squeak. “Emily…” She heard the warning in his voice. “I know, one of those nice malty drinks—” Jake swallowed the rest of her words in a slow, drugging kiss that she felt all the way down to her toes. His weight pushed her back into the deep softness of the bed. Her fingers threaded though his thick hair. Too many clothes. He wore too many clothes. Just the thought of experiencing the full ecstasy of his skin against hers throbbed through her. His tongue, lips pulled from hers and disappointment swelled. But it was brief. “Skin like silk.” His fingertips stroked her, delaying on her breast before caressing her stomach, her waist. “I need to kiss you here. And here…” Feathered touches followed his words. “I should’ve forgotten about food and just had you for dinner.” His voice was a hot caress and Emily felt her heart thud as she held his gaze. Jake kissed her throat, her collar bones, trailed burning kisses over her breasts. “But you as dessert…?” His mouth slow, warm, lingered on each breast, teasing the nipples erect. Cool fingers stroked her thigh. Emily almost lost herself to the aching pleasure that rose within her. Almost. It was still so difficult to believe that he wanted her, even if she was spread, practically naked, on his bed. But her fear kicked her mouth into action, words coming out in a breathless rush. “So I’m just an extra helping of tiramisu?” His laughter resonated against her skin. “Making jokes again?” His expression

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became serious, the humor fading from his gaze. “That has to have another forfeit.” Jake reached up to her mouth. Emily met him. This was her time with him. Perhaps her only time. Confidence swelled. She pressed herself against him, tugging hard at his shirt, her fingers worming their way to warm, silken skin. Jake pulled away with a low chuckle. “Insatiable woman.” She licked her lips. He tasted of fine wine and something uniquely Jake. He pulled the shirt from his back, tossed it aside. Her eyes feasted on the sculpted muscles of his chest. So beautiful. But her stomach tightened when his quick fingers moved to his trousers. She stared as they pooled to his feet. Firm, brown thighs. Her gaze skirted upwards, nervous of the obvious arousal straining against his boxers. Her mind buzzed. This was real. Sex would make everything worse. The mattress creaked. Jake’s hand ran over the smoothness of her waist, her hip, fingers lightly tracing the scrap of lace she still wore. “This has to go.” He slid the last of her clothes from her body. Her blood pounded so loudly that she was sure he could hear it. And then the softness of the sheets enveloped them. Alien heat in the wide bed, the nearness of his naked body. Every nerve thrummed with the thought of it. To press herself against him, feel his silken strength. Warm fingers stroked her bare skin. Emily allowed herself to disappear into the rising wave of desire, to forget everything but the pulse of need created by a clever mouth, exploring fingers. She had never— She stared up into his molten gold eyes, watching them darken, gleam. Her heart was in her throat, her mouth dry as his fingertip traced the outline of her lips. Such a simple action, but Emily’s eyes slid shut. It was too much… too much… “I’ll know every inch of you.” His voice slipped over her, his breath brushing her hot skin. And then his mouth covered hers. Emily didn’t fight the invasion of his hot tongue, let it dance and tangle with her own. The sweet dark taste of him… Her hands slid around his body, skimming the long hollow of his spine. Touching as she had ached to do. His finger glided over the swell of her breast. A smile curved his mouth and then his tongue flickered out to a tightened peak. Jake’s mouth, fingers stroked, teased, caressed her skin, sliding down the so sensitive underside of her arms, leaving a trail of burning kisses over her ribs, her breasts. She moaned, twisted against the hotness of his mouth, against the need for more than just his lips… Jake’s cool fingertips brushing over her thighs. She was naked before him… but it didn’t concern her. It seemed incredible. Sex with Jake. But then all thought just fell away. His lips had found her stomach with wet, open mouthed kisses, sinking lower. She was only aware of his mouth and clever, clever fingers driving a heated passion through her body; everywhere he touched her a raw point. Emily began to tremble, her fingers grasping at the smooth bedcover. Jake gently parted her thighs. The first stroke of his tongue shot through Emily. A primal touch that had her blood singing, pounding, her mind spinning. He held her as she twisted, thrashed. Emily pleaded for him not to stop, never to— A burst of heat, light, joy swept through her,

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splintered her… Emily cried out his name without realizing. Perspiration cooled on her skin and Emily’s head sank deep into the pillows. Her breathing slowed. She had no idea…But Jake wasn’t finished. She felt that mouth slipping, sliding over her wet skin. The warm brush of his thighs. Oh God, he was completely naked. “Do you want me to carry on, Emily?” he murmured, his mouth closing over her breast, smiling as fresh shivers wracked her. “I’ll sue if you don’t!” Jake’s soft laughter delighted her. “I’d like to see you explain this to a lawyer.” His hand snaked out of the sheets and brought back a little foil packet. And then his hot, slick body slid over hers, his erection pressing against her moist flesh. “Don’t think I wouldn’t.” The sting to her words was lost in a sigh. “Oh, I believe you,” Jake said, his voice distracted. “I really…” Emily shifted her hips, pressing for more of him, gasping as he slid slowly inside of her. Jake eased back and then pushed forward, unhurried, sure. There was a brief flare of pain, quickly forgotten and then she took him deep, deep inside of her. Oh God. Just the thought of him made tears burn at the edge of her eyes, made her want to shout that she loved him. But she dried the words in her mouth. She was the mistress and this was lust. Jake froze. Dark eyes held hers. “Emily? What’s wrong?” Not panicking. Definitely not panicking. Her trembling finger brushed his lip. “I’d hate to involve the law at this late stage.” Jake’s low rumble of laughter vibrated through her body. The intimacy made her toes curl. However, his voice was a hard whisper against her skin. “Yet another forfeit.” His tongue flickered over her throat, her ear. His body shifted. The slow rhythm of his hips rippled shivers of pleasure through her flesh. Time vanished. Only the two of them existed and the rising waves of slow, sweet pleasure they created. Emily could hardly believe how he made her feel, the sensation of his fingers running down her spine, the tenderness of his mouth. Touching smooth, hot skin, exploring powerful muscles, hearing the soft groans when her mouth or fingertips discovered a new and sensitive point, adding to the aching pleasure building within her flesh, her mind. Mistress or not, she loved him and she had him now. Emily wanted to remember every sensation. The clean smell of his hair that brushed her cheek, the salty taste of his skin, the way her own body thrummed at every touch. Then the rhythm changed and Emily bit at her lip to stifle the cries that ached to be free. How could she share this with anyone else after Jake Penvenhan? Her spine arched. Emily’s thoughts disintegrated as another orgasm caught her up, spun her mind with light, freed her body… Dimly, she heard Jake almost chanting her name… and then she was locked tight in his arms, crushed, his mouth devouring hers. Sated, exhausted, still entangled in each other’s bodies, then whispers, the gentle touching of fingers, of lips. Emily sighed, her fingers lightly stroking Jake’s damp cheek. A smile pulled at her mouth. For a moment, Jake echoed it. She had to tell him… But she was just a mistress. A woman of the moment. Emily watched his dark eyes shut, listened to his regular breathing that said he was already falling asleep. She kissed his forehead. Her own eyes closed.

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“I can’t tell you,” she murmured. Then Emily joined him in sleep. ***** Coffee. A rich, full, tantalizing scent that brought her slowly out of a deep, deep sleep. One thought surfaced. Bobby had broken into her packet of expensive coffee, the one she had warned him off on pain of death. Emily tried to summon up the appropriate anger… and failed. For some reason she felt completely rested. She sighed and turned over in the warmth of the bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept so well. “Emily?” “You’re forgiven,” she muttered, fingers snatching at the sheets to pull them farther over her head. “Just let me sleep.” “Forgiven?” “Yes.” Jake stared at the pile of sheets and blankets that hid her from him. What was she talking about? What could he have possibly done…? He scratched at his untidy hair and the tremor in his fingers surprised him. He had dismissed something. Emily’s wild response to him had yanked the stupid thought from his mind. And he’d watched the security firm’s blurred footage of her with Richard Stokes. They obviously had a past together. Jake sucked in a slow breath as memory flooded him; how she had felt so tight, so incredibly tight. The thought of it burned a fresh, new ache… but he had to be wrong. He was not her first lover. His heart thudded hard at the thought, but he controlled it. Emily Harding had not been a virgin. That was just ridiculous. “Did I hurt you?” “Jake?” The blankets grew eerily still. Then fingers curled over the top of the bedcovers and slowly rolled them back. Jake had to bite back a smile. Her hair was wild, smudges of make-up blurred her skin, but it was the almost comic wide-eyed shock that he had a hard time not finding adorable. Angered, he pushed that absurd response away. Just more weaponry from the woman’s unlimited arsenal. “Did I, Emily?” He didn’t want to push, to have her list her history with other men. Yet, he couldn’t help himself. “Hurt me? No, no, of course not.” Her gaze dropped away and he watched the heat flare under her skin.” It’s just that I was—” She plucked at the blanket. “A while… It’s been a while.” She was lying about something. But surely, her seduction would seem so much more enticing if she’d thrown virginity into the mix. “So you weren’t a virgin?” “Hardly!” The laughing reply ran a chill through him. Why had he needed her to say yes? Why had he wanted to be her first lover? A wry smile twisted his mouth. The male ego was a wonderful thing. “Good.” His thumb, of its own volition, stroked over the full softness of her mouth, so beautiful without the false shine of lipstick. “Virgins tend to get clingy.” “A mistress should never be clingy.” The tip of her tongue licked over the callused pad of his thumb, making him hiss against his body’s too rapid reaction. “First rule in the

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Mistress Manual.” Her eyes finally lifted and they sparked with humor. “Third Edition.” Mornings after were usually quick, business—like, the women desperate that he not see them as a sleepy, panda-eyed mess. Perfect hair and masks of make-up needed to be in place before he could see them again. And he had thought that was right. He loved beautiful woman and that beauty had to be worked at. Jake had always accepted that. Almost expected it. His need for Emily to be natural surprised him. “What would you like for breakfast?” “You.” Emily smiled and Jake ignored the skip in his heart. “I wasn’t aware that I was on the menu.” It’d been years since he’d tumbled back into a still warm bed and now he found Emily’s hands all too willing to pull the dressing gown from his body and replace it with open mouthed kisses. “You said your breakfasts are to die for.” Jake’s head fell back into the deep pillows as Emily found his nipple with her tongue, lips, teeth. Her fingers began a slow, aching slide over his chest, abdomen— He groaned as she gripped him, her cool, slender fingers having far too much fun. “I’m holding you to that.” Laughter erupted. How on earth had he thought this bold, insatiable woman was a virgin? He rolled her and she yelped in surprise. His erection brushed her heated flesh and Jake had to fight the very real need to simply push inside. He’d never lost himself like that, always erred on the side of caution. He would never lose that control. Especially not with Emily. “Jake?” Her eyes were unreadable and a hand tentatively brushed his roughened cheek. “I’m a man of my word.” His lips caressed a sensitive spot on her neck and she gasped. “Breakfast coming right up.” ***** Emily pretended to be asleep. It was easier. The mattress creaked and lifted. A few seconds later, a door closed quietly. She let out a slow sigh and rolled onto her back. He had bought the lie about her virginity. Welcomed it. He obviously hated the idea of a virgin in his bed and so despite the fear that she didn’t have a clue what she was doing, she’d tried to show him that she was the exact opposite. Emily scrubbed at her face. Was she supposed to feel this wretched? Her stomach tight with knots and the muscles in her face and neck aching with tension? She expelled a slow breath. And she had awoken feeling so relaxed, so… contented. All that was gone. Everything, her skin, the sheets even the air, bore the imprint of Jake and their love making. “No, not that,” she muttered. Reluctantly, she sat up, finding aches in strange places. Emily wanted to yank the memories out of her head, forget the overwhelming pleasure Jake had given her. They hadn’t made love. That was sex. Her eyes closed. Damn it. Her body still thrummed with the memory of his touch, could feel the ghostly fire of his fingers, his mouth on her skin. Nails curled hard into her palm. She still had a job to do. A curse shot past her lips. “Bobby!” He’d been expecting her home, was probably worried sick. Emily jumped from the bed… and realized that she only had the dress she had worn the night before. “Not going

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to streak through the flat,” she muttered. She spied Jake’s expensive shirt thrown into a heap on the carpet. Doubt grabbed her. Emily ignored her sudden attack of nerves. “I’ve had sex with the man. Surely, I can wear his shirt!” But something about slipping the smooth, cool cotton over her bare skin, breathing in the intoxicating mix of his cologne, his scent and feeling that familiar ache burn low in her belly…It was too intimate. It offered the idea that she wasn’t just a mistress to Jake Penvenhan, but something more. Emily laughed at herself and fastened the buttons. “It’s just a shirt,” she muttered. “Not his heart.” Now she had to find her phone and ring Bobby. Her bag was in the drawing room. Within minutes, the phone was ringing. Her gaze flicked to the delicate antique clock on the mantelpiece. Only ten a.m. It felt like she had been with Jake for a lifetime. “Hello?” Bobby’s voice. Strained, anxious. “Hi, it’s me—” “Em! Where the hell are you? Are you okay?” “I’m fine. I’m fine.” She glanced through the open doors to the entrance hall. Nothing. Silent. Still her voice dropped to a whisper. “Look, I’ll be able to get what’s needed soon, I’m sure. Can you get out of the flat? Stay with a friend. I’ll have to run. And Jake knows where I live. I wouldn’t want him to find you.” “I’m not running.” “Now is not the time to be pig headed.” She blew out an exasperated breath. “Jake Penvenhan is not stupid. He’s going to narrow suspects down pretty quickly. I want you out of his way.” “I’m not—” “Damn it, I’m doing all this for you!” She crushed her eyes against those words, desperate to take them back. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.” “No, you’re right.” Her brother’s voice was subdued. “I’ll be out by noon.” There was a short pause. “Please be careful, Em. And get out of there as soon as you can.” “I will.” She made herself smile, praying that he would hear it in her voice. “I’ll see you soon.” “You’d better.” She ended the call, pressing the button hard, knowing how temperamental the mobile was. She hoped that Bobby wasn’t just saying what she wanted to hear. “My shirt suits you.” Emily bit down on a startled shriek. She spun, feeling the flare of betraying blood in her face. Oh God, how much had he heard? Emily’s trembling fingers plucked at the shirt. “What? This old thing?” His gaze flicked to the mobile in her other hand. She hoped her smile looked convincing. “Just phoning my brother. Making sure he’s all right.” His eyes were stripping off the thin shirt, boring to the flesh beneath. Tuned to him, she felt his body weight shift. And blurted out, “I… I really need a shower. I should just—” “After.” “After what?” “This.” Jake couldn’t resist. The kiss was molten, burning over her lips, her jaw and then he found the heat of her mouth, her tongue and all thought blistered. What was he doing?

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He’d caught her on the phone to Stokes, declaring that she was doing it all for him. But he had only seen her in his shirt, the tail caressing the middle of her deliciously long thigh. Sunlight caught the thin fabric and it created a translucency, exposing the sweet, sweet curves beneath. Jake wanted and hated her in the same heartbeat. There was a dulled clunk as Emily dropped her mobile into the deep carpet. And now he had her. Again. ***** Emily sipped at her coffee and stared out of the kitchen window to the small balcony beyond. This really was getting out of control. She could feel the panic of it bubbling just under the surface. She had always tried to manage every situation. It helped to break down the fear. Another gulp of hot coffee, Emily grimacing as it burned her gullet. “You must be hungry.” Emily jumped as warm fingers casually brushed the nape of her neck. “Yes, yes I am.” Jake pulled out a chair. “Eating would prove it.” “Sorry.” Her mug found the table again and she made herself pick out one of the warm croissants. She looked up to find Jake’s hard eyes fixed on her. A stripe of pale gold light cut through the kitchen window and carved new angles on the man’s already harsh face. It sent an unexpected chill over her skin. “Regretting something, Emily?” Her smile felt weak. “What could I regret?” “The fact that we made love?” The knife in her hand stilled and she stared at the gleaming blade. “Made love?” “Sorry. The common euphemism. I should say you regret that we had sex.” Emily felt her heart crumble to dust. She had wanted him to say more, to say that of course that they had made love, because that was how he felt… Stupid. Stupid to believe that he would ever— It was sex. It always would be just… sex. She lifted her chin. She had to remember the act, now more than ever. Not just for Bobby, for Richard, but also for protecting herself. Emily knew she would never get over this man. Her mouth twisted against such a melodramatic thought. Her eyebrow rose. “Can’t a woman be tired?” That slow anger still burned in Jake’s gut. He hated lies, hated deception. Just for her to tell him the truth… Hypocrite. The little voice at the back of his mind sneered at him. You’re using her like she’s using you. And I don’t see you admitting it. Jake pushed that thought away. He was nothing like Emily Harding. His gaze involuntarily flicked over her. The shirt she still wore gleamed white in the bright sunlight streaking through the windows. Opened buttons revealed an inviting slice of creamy soft skin. Jake felt a muscle jump in his cheek. He wanted her. Again. What the hell was wrong with him? The celibacy of the last few months had obviously affected him more than he thought. Emily wasn’t that good, that special. “So I’ve worn you out already?” A blush stained her cheeks. Her eyes lifted from buttering her croissant. The silver impact of her gaze almost caught Jake’s breath. So beautiful… Milk pale skin, her suddenly dilating eyes dark and wanting. The shared memory of touch, taste— Damn it,

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he would not lose himself in her again. Before full addiction set in, he had to know more about her. “Well?” Her brow furrowed briefly. “Which question am I meant to answer?” “Let’s play a game,” he murmured, picking up his coffee mug. “More games, Jake?” “Something simple.” The sharp glint to his eyes should have warned her. “Truth or dare.” “Why?” The question burst out. She really didn’t want more lies staining her, making her gut twist. She dragged out her teasing persona. “It could prove dangerous for both of us.” “I’m sure I’ll survive. So?” Something lurked in his gaze, something that made ice in her heart. “Which will it be, Emily?”

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Chapter Nine She grinned with a humor she really didn’t feel. “Dare.” “Are you sure about that?” “No.” Jake laughed. “Then tell me something true about yourself. You went to boarding school.” Emily blinked. Panic built and she tried to remember whether that had been on her job application, if Richard had made her change anything. “Yes. How did you know?” “I saw the trunk in your flat.” His smile was sly. “Did you hate it as much as I did?” “I only did two years.” Her gaze dropped to the plate and the debris of her late breakfast. “My mother… I was sent when I was fourteen.” The pain wrenched. Her mother had been dead ten whole years and yet her jaw still tightened and tears blurred the edges of her vision. And that horrible, horrible school to which the Stokes’ had sent her… “I dug a tunnel when I was sixteen.” Her chin lifted. “So tell me something true about yourself, Jake.” “I thought I had a choice.” “No.” She sat forward. She had to draw him away from dangerous subjects. “Who taught you to play carom billiards?” He placed his mug back on the breakfast table. “Helena. My first stepsister. I was eight, she was… nineteen. My mother divorced her father a year later. She died in a car crash six months after that.” The detached tone made Emily bite at her lip. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t think either of us had particularly nice childhoods.” “The unnerving thought hit me last night that you could have been another potential stepsister.” “No!” The word leapt out of her mouth and she tried to smile to lessen the impact. “I think my father knew yours a long time ago. My mother and I met your father, he was…” Callous. Brutal. Repulsive. She could still feel the stain of his gaze as it slid over her, assessing and dismissing. But Jake could never know about that little scene. As Frederick Penvenhan laughed at her dying mother, telling her he wasn’t a charity for the dependants of thieves. “He was…” “Your mother was beautiful?” “Oh yes, before the cancer ate her whole—” Emily bit off the rest of her words. She had never meant to say that. It revealed too much, so much more than she wanted Jake to know. Jake pushed back his chair and took her hand in his. Guilt gnawed at him. Pain pulsed from her and he had the insane need to wrap his arms around her and promise that nothing, nothing would hurt her ever again. Was it the fact that she had touched a nerve with Helena? It had to be. His heart still missed that wild and funny girl. “You need a bath.” “I’ve just had a shower.” “I should say we need a bath.” “We?” He watched the pulse jump at her throat and her eyes darken with sudden arousal.

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He brought her hand to his lips. “Time to forget the past in each other, Emily.” “Do you promise?” “I’ve said it before. I’m a man of my word.” Minutes later, she found herself gingerly stepping into the deep bath. She bent down, her hands gripping the smooth sides… and gasped when warm, wet hands slid over her hips and guided her into the steaming water. She leant back against his chest and found Jake rearranging her hair over her shoulder. Emily stared at her legs, at his, paled by the water. She felt inexplicably nervous. It was ridiculous but this was more intimate than sex. Jake pressed a soap-laden sponge over her left shoulder, across her back and Emily’s eyes closed. A sigh escaped her. Slow. Warm. Like the tender caress of his lips. “Don’t go to sleep on me, Emily.” His voice, rumbling through his chest, slipped over her deliciously wet skin. “I could get used to this,” she murmured. “But it would probably make both off us late for the office every day.” “I run the company, remember.” The sponge slipped over her shoulder, creamy soap sliding in thick rivulets down her chest. She gasped when the slowly descending sponge brushed over a tight nipple. “I’m sure they’d understand.” Emily chuckled. “It would take some explaining. Sorry I’m late, I had to stay in and wash my PA.” Jake began to shake with laughter, causing the water to ripple around them. “I’d be crushed by the waves of jealousy.” She turned her head to him. “Flatterer.” Jake’s grin was bright. “Always.” Emily settled herself back against his wet chest, sighing as he continued slowly, tenderly to wash her body. With her hair slick and wet, his fingers massaged through her hair, an easy caress against her scalp. “You’re very good at this.” “Relax. Enjoy.” His fingers didn’t stop. “Forget.” Tears pricked at her eyes, but she could blame any redness on soap and shampoo. This would never be her life with Jake. “Emily? Are you all right?” “Just shampoo in my eye,” she muttered. “And I thought I had a promising career in naked hairdressing.” Emily laughed, despite herself. “Don’t worry too much about your tip, Jake.” His lips slid over her shoulder, teeth nibbling at warm, wet flesh. Emily felt the fresh stirrings of his erection against her spine. Her voice sounded breathless, distracted. “But you should really rinse first.” Jake’s warm breath against her cooled, wet skin sent a shiver through her frame. “The customer is always right.” Emily rose out of the bath on wobbly legs, her hair clinging to her neck, shoulders and face. She shivered against the brush of cooled air and grabbed at the pile of fluffy, white towels. “You know that I’m still not finished with you,” Jake said, wrapping a towel around his waist. He took the towel from her loose grip and began to dry her hair. “This body servant thing is addictive,” Emily murmured, letting her head fall back under the long, even strokes of the towel.

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“It is, isn’t it,” Jake said. Slow hands started to dry her body, the friction of the soft cotton over the smoothness of her skin rippling warm, languid desire through every muscle. Emily’s eyes closed, not thinking, letting his touch work its magic. Her lips parted and a small gasp escaped. Jake followed the towel with his hot mouth— Emily’s stomach growled. Jake couldn’t stop the laughter that shook him. His head fell against the cool skin of her stomach, his cold wet hair soaking her and making her shiver again. “Does that thing need a proper feeding?” Emily’s fingers threaded through his hair, stroking back the tousled strands. “Not yet.” He couldn’t help himself. Her words sparked fire; a need to have her that rioted through him. He stood and his mouth covered hers, found her opening under him, her tongue already tangling with his own. His hands slid over the softness of her skin, delighting in the curve of her hip. Emily’s soft little moans… God, the woman could get him hard faster than anyone he had ever known. Emily stumbled backwards into the cool bathroom wall. Jake’s hands cupped her face, fingers caught in her hair while his tongue ravaged her mouth. Not the sweet, gentle kisses he had promised… but something… demanding, consuming. The tangle of his tongue with hers, finding every sensitive point, the burn of her lips under his, teeth that tugged briefly at her swollen mouth. His erection pressed hard against her stomach. The feel of her hot, wet skin had his blood thrumming. Without thought, he lifted her, slid her body up, up… until his penis pressed against her hot, sensitized flesh, slipping, pushing… almost… almost… The anticipation had his blood racing, his breath short. Jake needed to be inside of her. “Oh. God. Emily.” The words tore themselves from his mouth. Jake buried his face in her neck, his hands supporting her as he began to thrust into her willing flesh. The ecstasy of her skin against his. Really, he could die, right now. “Jake…” Emily. Moaning his name. And then her mouth found his again, a wild dance of lips, tongues, teeth. The tight burn of his approaching orgasm fired his flesh. Just a— What the hell was he doing? Emily’s dazed eyes held him, her soundless lips moving. Jake jabbed a thumb at the open closed door, stepping back from her. His legs hit the edge of the bath.” I think we should continue this on a bed.” Did the humor in his voice sound forced? He had no idea. He just needed control. And a condom. Definitely, a condom. “I promised to pamper you.” Emily shivered and grabbed her fallen towel. He watched her leave the bathroom. “You were doing just fine.” How could he almost have been that stupid? Jake dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and counted his breaths. Then he made the mistake of moving his hands. And saw Emily sliding a towel over her smooth skin, oblivious to him. Damn it, just the thought of her hot, sweet flesh had his body twitching. Jake snatched up a foil packet from the ones he had deliberately put on the cabinet. He never lost control. Never. He wasn’t about to start now.

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***** Emily lay in bed and stared at the clock that illuminated the darkness. The rest of Saturday and Sunday had been a blur. A gentle finger traced the edge of Jake’s bare arm as it he held her tight to him. Slow, even breathing told her he was in a deep sleep. Emily found herself loathe to move. The warmth, the comfort, the safety of having Jake’s arms wrapped around her; the solid wall of him at her back. For the first time in too long, she felt… protected. And she was about to wreck that. Emily shifted. Jake’s arms tightened. She cursed under her breath. “Your reputation didn’t include limpet,” she muttered. “I didn’t have you before,” came the sleepy reply and a slow finger brushed over her breast, deliberately circling her nipple. Her mouth parted in a soundless gasp. She had to ignore the reaction of her body as fire licked along nerves now programmed to respond to Jake’s slightest touch. His lips, his tongue found that little sensitive spot on her neck. She gasped and wriggled. And through all this came the inexorable slide of Jake’s hot fingers over the coolness of her body, playing her so easily, so… “I have to go,” she said The hands froze. “Go?” “To the bathroom?” His touch fell away and Emily felt empty at its absence. “Don’t be long.” “Try and get some sleep, Jake. I know that’s been something of a rarity this weekend.” She crushed her eyes against his low, warm laughter. “Worried about my stamina, Emily?” “Worried about mine. I’ve got work tomorrow.” “I’m sure the boss will forgive you for falling asleep at your desk.” But he turned, the bed creaking, and pulled the sheets around himself. Emily finally stood up. She fumbled on the floor for her dressing gown, quickly walked past the en suite and headed for Jake’s study. Before her nerve gave out. She should have confessed. But when? After the first time? As she laid in that vast bath, leaning on Jake’s slick body, his fingers gently, thoroughly massaging lather over her shoulders, arms, breasts… And the wildness that followed. Emily cut out the memory. He enjoyed women. He’d certainly enjoyed her for the previous three nights… and two days. The fiery tenderness that she had experienced at his hands wasn’t anything more than a maestro showing off his expertise. Emily reminded herself not to mistake his lust for love. So she still had to execute her plan. Raid his study, check for the missing files that constituted Phaeton… and run. Jake’s study was next to the drawing room. Her nervous fingers slid over the handle and quietly pushed open the door. She held her breath. And realized that she was waiting for the blare of alarms, for the lights to flash on and Jake’s anger to rip her apart— Her hand flicked on the light switch. A large room, lined with books and wooden cabinets. She spied the sleek laptop sitting on his desk. “A place to start,” she murmured. All too soon, she was staring at the file. Emily tried to tell herself that it had been so

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easy because Jake would never suspect a… mistress… of industrial espionage. He didn’t know. He didn’t. She scrubbed her face and then stood over the keyboard. “I have to do this.” When she had started this insane scheme, she had thought she would feel relieved when she had finally completed it, when her fingers hovered over the buttons that would send the information on to Richard. But now guilt pulled at her. The attraction, the lust and finally, reluctantly, the love for Jake Penvenhan had burst over her. Emily tried to be rational. A few files, a project in the massive Penvenhan empire, compared to Bobby’s safety. And her own. She stared at the screen. No. If it had only been her threat then she would never have gone through with it, certainly not betrayed Jake to a monster like Richard Stokes. But Bobby was different. He was the only family she had. Her eyes closed and she felt the burn of tears behind her lids. Bobby was only person who loved her. She had to get a grip. Jake didn’t do love. She knew that from the very beginning. She stared at the files again. And then it was done. Several more seconds, and she reformatted the hard drive, destroying any evidence of what she had sent and where. Emily thought about being sick, but instead she stood, powered down the laptop and left the study as she had found it. Now she had to get dressed and get out of there. She bit at her lip. Nausea rose again and she willed one foot in front of the other. She had to go back into the bedroom, look upon the face of the man she had betrayed. Her thoughts were melodramatic. She wanted to find the sensible woman she had always been. But the guilt burned away at the back of her mind. And she could think herself no better than Frederick Penvenhan. At least I have guilt. She stood still in the doorway. Her gaze fixed on Jake. Moonlight cut through the curtains and streaked his flesh with cool silver. For a forbidden moment, Emily memorized the smooth flow of his muscles, the tempting tangle of his black hair and for an insane second wished that he would turn, that she could see his face… His face at peace. If she ever saw him again, there would only be the twist of anger, hatred. A tear slipped onto her cheek. Irritated, her finger scrubbed at it. No point in crying over the man. “Emily?” She cursed fluidly under her breath. What had she been thinking? Wasting time staring at him and losing her chance to escape. “Emily?” Sheets and blankets twisted as he turned. The bed creaked. Sleepy eyes, just a shadow in the low light, but his slow smile made her heart ache. Not love. Just lust. For her own sanity, she had to believe that lie. “Where were we?” He lifted the sheets and the soft sheen of the moonlight spilled over his chest, over the taut muscles of his stomach.

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The remembered taste of his skin, the sensation of hot flesh under her lips, tasting him salt-sharp and thoroughly addictive. Her fingers moved without thought, slipping under the belt and letting the dressing gown slip from her shoulders. To have him hold her again. One more memory. And with it, the poignant knowledge that this would be the last time. The sheets slid cool over her bare skin. She pressed herself against the solid heat of Jake’s body, arms tight around him, needing to take away the imprint, to make her body remember. Her eyes slid shut at the pleasure of her whole body against his… pressed closer, until her warm breasts, stomach, hips brushed up against him. Her fingers continued their journey over the supple muscles in his back, slipping over his hip to play with hair-roughened skin of his stomach. “Cold,” he murmured. But then large, warm hands stroked slowly over her spine and her skin burned under his touch. Her lips caressed his collarbone, found that so, so sensitive spot. His low, unconscious groan shot heat through her body. The taste of salt on her tongue and then the anguished realization that tears wet her skin. She never cried. Her mouth swept lower until her teeth tugged briefly at his nipple. Jake’s fingers tightened into her flesh and his head fell back into the pillows. “What would you like?” His hard, breathless voice. “For you to surprise me.” Emily paused. Jake had led her, had initiated all of their encounters… Her last time. To touch him, kiss him, love him. Soft, open mouthed kisses caressed his skin, feeling the shiver of contracting muscles. His fingers threaded through her loose hair, traced the shell of her ear, brushed her jaw. Her mouth slid lower. Butterfly kisses over heated skin. “Emily. You don’t…” She looked up. Moonlight etched his face in silver, but his eyes were lost to shadow. With every beat of every second, she felt their time together coming to an end. Her heart ached. Yet Emily made a smile curve her lips. “Are you going to deny me?” A flash of a grin. “Do you think I would dare?” Emily couldn’t hold his gaze. It hurt. She wanted to return that wicked smile, imagine that there could be more to their relationship. That she hadn’t completely destroyed it only minutes before. Her fingers moved, molding, exploring the now familiar plane of his hip, the strong run of muscle under satin skin. His scent. The taste of him. Her last time. No. She would mourn later. At that moment, he was real, warm, waiting… and hers alone. Her tongue tip traced the outer edge of his navel. Jake shivered and a real smile grew on her mouth. “I could stop… if you want?” “Emily…” Her nails sketched over his skin, drawing down over the firm muscle of his thigh. “Only if you’re absolutely—” Jake actually growled. Emily’s smile faded. A warm rush of love left only pain in its wake. She loved him. She would show him how much. Her mouth slid lower still and she could feel the tension

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tightening his muscles, his fingers curling into her hair. Her tongue circled him and she heard Jake hiss out a breath. And then Emily lost herself in the satin smoothness, the taste— “Emily… God. Please. Enough!” She found herself tight in his arms, his face buried in her neck. “Didn’t you like…” Brittle laughter. “Too much.” A flutter of kisses over her eyes, brushing her lips. “Far too much.” He deepened the kiss, his arms, his hands possessive and Emily delighted in the hard crush of solid muscle. The familiar curl of need grew low in her belly. She could feel him. Just… just… There. Emily gasped. The unbelievable ecstasy of his skin against hers. “Jake…” Instinct and the hot ache made her push against him. Hard. This was… His eyes fixed on her, his breath hot and sweet against her skin. I love you. Words she could never speak aloud ricocheted through her mind. The slow, slow twist of his hips, deliberate, devastating. And his eyes. Dark, gleaming. The wicked cut of his smile. But then something passed through his gaze. He started to pull away. “I should…” No! He couldn’t. Not now. “Please. In a minute…” “If you’re—” “Stop talking.” A thrust of his hips and she arched under him. “Is that better?” Her answer was her mouth on his, with a fierceness needed to drive out the knowledge that this would be the last, the final— The pulsing ache drove a fevered fire through her veins. Jake was hers. She would always… Want him. Need him. Love— He had to stop this. He had to. He didn’t… But the feel of her enveloped him, her mouth hungry and unforgiving, her hands tight against his flesh urging him, desperate for him— Damn it. He had to control— He wrenched his mouth from hers. But found her face buried in his shoulder, whispering breathless commands over his skin, making him… Their bodies shifted and Jake groaned. All thought of control deserted him. To lose himself inside this woman; the primal need to make her his, his alone. “Come for me, Emily.” The rough whisper into neck, hands firm on her trembling body. “Come—” “I… Yes… Jake!” She cried out against the orgasm that tore through her soul. And then he was following her, his body shuddering, his mouth against her shoulder, praying her name. Emily’s head sank back into the deep pillows, enjoying the hot press of his body into hers. Her fingers stroked slowly over his damp skin, feeling the heavy draw of each breath. Her eyes closed and she bit at her lip. She knew that he smiled against her skin… A few moments more before reality had to smash into her little dream. “Oh God, Jake.” He hand stroked at his bristled jaw, making him reluctantly lift his head. Dark, sated eyes held hers. “We didn’t, we didn’t… use… anything.” Jake knew those words should disturb him more that they did. He didn’t have unprotected sex. Never. And yet with Emily Harding it had been the most natural, the most perfect… He slid his crushing weight from her body and pulled her close, his hands stroking over her beautiful curves. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “It’ll be fine.” She was his. Would always be.

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Snuggled, hot, damp and completely sated, Emily felt the rumble of Jake’s laughter. Something about it unsettled about it. Something almost bitter. Her head lifted, chin resting on his chest. “What?” “That wasn’t the plan.” Her heart turned over. She wondered whether he’d realized that he had actually spoken his thoughts aloud. But Jake wouldn’t have done that. He wouldn’t. Slept with her because… And why was she making him altruistic? She had done just that. Seduced him to gain access to his computers. Emily made herself ask at the question. “What plan?” Jake kissed her forehead, slow lips drifting on damp skin. “What?” She refused to melt into that touch. Had he used her? Was this all a game? She didn’t want to believe that she’d been used. That Jake’s lovemaking had been a callous… exercise. “Plan?” Damn, she hadn’t been distracted from those muttered words. Too tired and far, far too relaxed his brain had leaked. “I didn’t plan this,” he murmured, fingers brushing away her sweat-dampened hair. Her silvered eyes were clouded and something about that disturbed him more than it should. He had lost control. That was unacceptable. Completely unacceptable. “To spend the entire weekend in bed.” His fingers stopped, curled away. “Did you?” “No.” Her head found his chest again and she listened to the even beat of his heart, wanting it to ease the fear. “We can’t do this again,” he said Emily froze. He knew and he had used her. Taken advantage. God, he was a true Penvenhan. Her eyes crushed shut, her jaw tight with the ache of unshed tears. Damn him, the man was worse than Richard Stokes. “Emily?” Time to be just as cold. She would not ask why she was being discarded. Never ask. She had some scrapings of pride. Her head lifted and her body followed. Icy air washed over her still damp body and she held down a shiver. Her gaze fixed on the closed curtains, to the gray light of dawn shifting behind them. “Seems neither of us lived up to the other’s expectation.” Jake’s eyes narrowed. “And what was your expectation?” There was a nasty edge to his voice that sent prickles over her skin. “Something more than sex? You know the stories about me. I believe in lust. Not marriage and children. Not commitment.” An ice cold gaze held her. “You were fun while you lasted.” She was a disappointment? Jake Penvenhan could certainly crush a woman’s confidence. Anger stirred. “Yes.” Her heart was cracked. “The idea of us is beginning to pale now that the chase is over.” Emily ran her fingers through her tangled hair and stretched, deliberately luxuriating in the pull of tired muscles. She was aware of Jake’s gaze searing a path over her bare skin. Let him look. He had decided not to touch.

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“I’ll leave now.” “My chauffeur can take you back.” Automatic movement forced Emily out of the warmth of her bed. She grabbed at a blanket. Fingers wrapped it tight until it dug into her flesh. She couldn’t look at his face. “That’s kind of you.” Damn him. Damn him and his whole bloody family! Her chin lifted. “What should I do about the card?” “Max it.” “Then I was that good?” The mocking words were spoken before she realized. But there was no way she was touching a penny. She smiled. “I suppose that’s some sort of compliment but I don’t need your money as… as payment.” Jake shrugged. “Then cut it up.” His eyes held hers for the final time. “And don’t forget the morning-after pill.” Emily felt the ice grow around her heart. She knew she was safe. Knew it. She didn’t need a clinical reminder from a heartless… “I’m protected,” she lied. And then Jake turned over; turned away from her. Emily’s heart shattered. ***** Ice cold water stung his back. Jake bent his head. The needles of shower water attacked the muscles in his neck. Fingers scratched against wet tiles and he tried not to think about what he had done. Curses spat past his lips. “I don’t get involved.” He snapped off the fast flow and grabbed a towel from the rail. And if he started to doubt he just have to look at his laptop. Which he hadn’t done. Yet. Jake told himself he needed to shower, have breakfast before he started to examine the extent of Emily’s guilt. Freezing water had been pummeling him for… he glanced at the clock… fifteen minutes. He ran fingers through wet hair and tried to ignore the sour ache in his gut. “It had to end like this.” Jake stared at his reflection, seeing only a bleak grayness in his face. He had hardly going to propose to the woman! That memory hit him. The one that had driven him into a punishing blast of ice water. The cool wetness on his chest, the fleeting brush of wet eyelashes when he had said that she’d been fun, nothing more… She had not been crying. He’d touched his skin afterwards, caught the moisture on his fingertip. Then stupidly, he tasted it. “Okay, all right. Tears.” He stared into the gleaming porcelain sink, belatedly realizing that his hands gripped the edge of the bowl until his knuckles strained white. “But that’s just another part of the act.” Rational thoughts. But why was his head still aching, tension tightening muscles in his neck, shoulders? He loosened the death grip he had on his sink. “Yes, I lost control. Yes, that doesn’t happen.” He scrubbed at his face and let out a slow sigh. “And no, I don’t normally talk to myself quite so much.” A bitter laugh escaped. Scrubbing a towel over his hair, he padded back into his bedroom. And the tangled mess of sheets and blankets confronted him again. He had lain in that bed, the scent of her, of them enveloping him and listened. No

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muttering, no half choked sobs. Emily had dressed in another room and an eternity later he had heard the slam of the front door. She had agreed with him… and didn’t that say something? That she was using him. He was a means to an end. That their time together had been nothing more than a pleasant way to lull her target. Jake cursed against the sting in his knuckles. He stared. The shallow imprint of his fist stared back at him from the plaster. “I just punched the wall,” he muttered.” What the hell…” He sank into the soft cushion of a deep armchair. This wasn’t him at all. He didn’t overreact. The only person he cared about in the world was his sister, Michelle. Everyone, everyone else had let him down, betrayed him. His father and his numerous affairs and marriages. His mother. And her numerous affairs and marriages. Annabel Rogers. He had loved her with all the idiocy of youth. And he had been a complete idiot over that woman. Hadn’t slept with her, hardly even kissed her. A wry smile pulled at his mouth. Annabel had been very short sighted. She’d thought his father was wealthy, that the tight rein Frederick kept on his son’s finances wouldn’t change. She hadn’t foreseen that stress would drive his father out. That he would take over the company at twenty seven. Fury at her betrayal had made him a billionaire in nine short years. Jake had vowed that her treachery would be the last. He’d built a wall of controlled indifference. Was safe behind it. Had been. Until Emily’s first smile. Watching that man, Andrews, from accounting standing too close, seeing him adjust a hideous tie and running his fingers over thinning hair. Hovering by her desk and being completely ignored. That had brought a grin to Jake’s face. But then he’d made the mistake of examining the woman who had the normally staid and conservative Andrews preening himself. Emily Harding. Wild red hair tamed into a neat chignon. Even under the harsh and unforgiving strip lighting her skin shone flawless, soft and clear of any cosmetics. Thick dark lashes framed eyes the color of mist. She looked up. Smiled… Jake had stopped, feet frozen to the floor. She came… alive. He’d felt heat in his face. Why couldn’t he breathe? His heart jumped and an unexpected hollowness hit his stomach. Later, he had put his unnerving reaction down to missing breakfast. He had told himself she wasn’t even pretty. But he’d been lying. Years of caution made him hang back. He was glad of it. Anton had hired her. That fact alone had alarm bells ringing. The footage of her breaking into his office and accessing his computer burned behind his eyeballs. Her betrayal had choked him. Watching her slender fingers whip over the keys, the look of hard concentration twisting her face. The memory still made him feel as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. Hard. Jake stared at the floor. It was supposed to be business and business was never personal. “Of course I’m attracted to her!” Damn. He couldn’t sit. He strode out of the bedroom… and caught the soft scent of her perfume. His jaw tightened. He stopped in the entrance hall.

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The door to his study was open. Jake closed his eyes. He couldn’t ignore the tight pain in his chest this time, the ache that had cut him since Emily had broken into his office. He wanted to curse against it. Sleeping with a woman didn’t affect him like this. A woman was a thing of the moment, something to be enjoyed for the pleasure they both shared. Forgotten almost as soon as their time together soured. Jake winced. That was hardly something to be proud of. He was reacting to Emily because of his recent lack of partners. That’s all it was. His eyes stayed fixed on the open door. They’d just used each other. But he couldn’t move his feet; witness the truth for himself. He wanted the hope… “This is stupid. I’ll make the damn woman see sense,” he muttered, striding into the study.” See that I lo…” The words dried in his mouth. He sank into his chair. “Lo… care for her.” Jake scrubbed at his face. Now that was insane. Emily had stolen rubbish and even if she had stolen Phaeton it was only a small project. Was he forgiving her? He lifted a hand to run fingers through his still damp hair and watched in disbelief as a tremor ran through it. And then the thought hit him. If he had Emily, she could happily ruin the company. “Dear God,” he murmured. He had never loved Annabel; that had just been a youthful infatuation. But Emily… She had taken him completely unawares. “I love her.” His hand hovered for the phone. She would be home now. A folded piece of paper sat on top of his laptop. Jake scanned the hastily written note. A confession? His heart tightened. Was this because as she had written, she thought he had realized her scheme? Or could there be another reason? He read the last line and clenched the paper. So that’s who she was. But Roger Armstrong? Her father? The phone rang out. Jake snatched at it. “Emily?” “Jake? Jake! You have to come now. I need you!” The urgent, crying voice stunned him. Finally, he found his own voice. “Annabel?” “You have to come! I can’t cope.” Fear crawled along his spine, but he made himself ask the question. “What’s happened to Michelle?” Her reply was a garbled mix of words and sobs. “Annabel… Annabel.” He forced a soft tone to his voice, taking a deep breath to find some composure himself. “Start at the beginning.” “She was due to go back to school this morning, so I said of course we should celebrate her last… last night of freedom.” Jake bit back sharp words. Michelle was nine. Annabel seemed to forget that on a regular basis. He was already hunting for clothes. Annabel’s voice was lost to tears again. “Annabel?” He jammed the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled on jeans and then boots. “Which hospital?” More tear-thickened words. “I’m leaving now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Jake stabbed at the lift button.

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He would not lose someone he really loved.

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Chapter Ten Emily stared. Her legs gave out and she fell into the chair. “No.” She shook the stick. And again. She re-read the packaging, but she couldn’t blame her translation skills. Her understanding of Spanish was flawless. She was pregnant. Her fingers wiped at a damp forehead and she fought the wave of nausea and dizziness that swamped her. “I haven’t got time for this,” she muttered. She lifted her head, but her eyes danced with black spots. Hastily, she dropped her arms to her thighs and dipped her head again. “Seems I have.” She was living in a nightmare. For two months, she had hidden in the little guest house sitting in the grounds of Stokes’ Mallorcan villa, slowly going crazy in her isolation. She avoided newspapers and there was no television. She didn’t want to see Jake’s hunt for her splashed over the world. And everyday she expected the pounding of fists on the door as the police tracked her down and dragged her off to the local cells to await extradition. Stupidly, in the first few days she had expected Jake. Time had crawled over her skin. Every moment had her convinced that he would find her. His hard, unforgiving edge to his eyes and the harsh laughter. Had she really thought she could get away? From him? Since she had moronically confessed all in that stupid note. Yet she had to do that. At that moment, in the bitter pain of his rejection she had wanted to revel in her success at deceiving him. She hadn’t risked Bobby. Richard’s name had not appeared. But she shouldn’t have mentioned her father. Too late. The nausea rose again and she breathed past it. Denial. She’d been in that state for weeks. Ignoring the fact that she could hardly get up in the morning, that most of the day disappeared into a haze of exhaustion. Queasiness had dogged her. And the food. Old favorites were suddenly unpalatable. She’d finally given into the little voice that said she had to know one way or the other. It could just be a bug, finding that her body wasn’t used to the local produce. Emily laughed and pushed herself out of the chair. The little stick was still in her hand. She couldn’t seem to let go of it. She closed the bathroom door and made herself put the pregnancy test down on the little hall table. Not exactly hygienic. But she couldn’t throw it away. Not just yet. It was her baby. Their baby. Without thinking, Emily found herself in the cool, tiled kitchen. She opened the fridge and stared at the bottles of mineral water. Icy air washed over her. She closed her eyes and took slow breaths. Calm. She was calm. But how could she tell him? And that shredded the brief, peaceful moment. Her hand tightened in reflex on the metal handle. What would he think? The only thought that stuck in her mind was Annabel. And how she had trapped Jake’s father with a child. Would he just consider her another detested gold digger? But she couldn’t hide in the villa forever, that was certain. The motherly housekeeper would cluck and fuss and then tell Richard. He could never know. She didn’t

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even want to think how he would use that against her. “Oh God, I’m pregnant.” Her free hand wiped at fresh perspiration on her forehead and she willed back the burn of tears. That wouldn’t help anyone. “What am I going to do?” “That wasn’t my first thought.” His voice. Hearing it in the daytime. That was new. Usually, she heard his soft, low voice in the lonely silence of the night, when sleep eluded her. And then the remembered warmth of his skin; the strength in his arms holding her tight. The ache then of loss, of regret. She had felt so safe. In her imagination, she could call it love. She let out a slow sigh. All that was over. So much wishful rubbish. “Definitely not my first thought.” Another new angle. His voice wasn’t normally that bitter, that harsh. “I must stop eating cheese,” Emily murmured, belatedly closing the fridge door. “Dreaming in the middle of the day? Any more proof needed that I’m going slightly crazy?” “You’re not dreaming, Emily.” Laughter filled her veins with ice. “But a nightmare is just beginning.” A chill slid over her skin and her legs felt weak. She grabbed for the back of a nearby chair. She couldn’t make herself turn around. Jake stood in the little terracotta kitchen. A dark, bitter shadow. And he knew. “How… how did you get on to the estate?” “My innate charm?” The pregnancy test was in his hand. She couldn’t hold his dark, feral gaze and Emily felt the color drain from her face. She sank into the chair. “Nothing to say about this?” Jake threw the stick onto the table. Emily watched it skitter and stop. She had to explain that she had never meant… “It wasn’t planned!” A crooked smile twisted his mouth and Emily realized he looked older. “Really?” The derision made her fingers curl into her palm. She stared at the curve of her knuckles. She wanted him to understand that she hadn’t done this to trap him. “I thought… I thought I was safe. I did.” “Too busy packing and running to do as I suggested?” It was useless to deny. “Yes.” His cold disregard for her condition cut her and she had to change the subject. “How did you find me?” Jake moved into the room, silently, something almost… predatory in his movement and Emily fought not to throw her chair back and run… anywhere. He leaned back against a cabinet, hands gripping the granite countertop. He looked like a man totally at ease. Yet she could feel the controlled fury burning beneath the calm façade. “Where else would you run?” That told her he knew about Richard Stokes. But how much? And even as he stood in a kitchen owned by the Stokes’ family, Emily could not risk confirming anything. Bobby still had to be her priority. “The Stokes’ were… very briefly… my guardians. But it’s obvious that you’ve found that out.” “Is it?” What did he want from her? An explanation as to why she had stolen those stupid files? She hadn’t told him that in her hasty and ill-thought note. Or did he think that,

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somehow, she had engineered the pregnancy test, the pregnancy itself, for his sudden arrival? So that he wouldn’t prosecute the mother of his child? And he could easily think that, after what she had done. The thought of it shamed her. She really was no better than his father. Jake hated her too. Her stomach growled. Yes. The midmorning hunger that had seized her for three weeks now. She pushed herself out of her chair. Tea. Fruit. And four slices of the local bread that the housekeeper brought her everyday. “To keep her strong.” A wry smile curved Emily’s mouth. Maria had known all along that she was pregnant. And thankfully, never questioned her. “What are you finding funny now, Emily?” His words stabbed at her and made her hand pause over filling the kettle. “That the housekeeper knew I was pregnant weeks before I did.” Her gaze flicked to him, leaning, against the countertop, and despite everything, still so beautiful that it made her heart tighten just looking at him. “That she probably let you in, guessing that you’re the father.” “Guessing?” Emily’s returned her attention to watching water splash into the kettle. She turned off the tap. “I was hardly going to tell her.” “So you’re still sticking to the… story… that it’s mine.” He pushed himself away from the bench and Emily fought not to shrink away. He moved closer. She could feel the heat of his body. “Are you sure that you weren’t already pregnant when you threw yourself at me?” Her stomach twisted and she felt sick. But he could not accuse her of that! Her chin lifted and she met the cold fury in his eyes. “I did what I did for my brother.” Heat rose in her face but she ignored it. “You’re the first… the only… man I’ve ever slept with.” She didn’t know what reaction to expect from that statement, but it certainly wasn’t laughter. A harsh, raw sound. “You want me to believe that you were a virgin?” “It had crossed your mind.” “And stupidly I asked you. Only to have it thrown at me now as a convenient cover.” He lifted his hand and Emily stopped an instinctive flinch. His finger traced and brushed back a loose lock of her hair. The briefest touch of his skin on hers… Aching heat flooded every cell and Emily longed to lean into him, to let her own fingers find the bitter anger on his face and smooth it away. “Virgins don’t behave as you did, Emily.” Her desire fell to ash. He made her sound like a harlot. “And you have endless experience with them, of course.” “On the contrary.” He stepped back, fingers curling into his palm. His face set to stone. “I avoid them. I told you, virgins are clingy with over active imaginations. They still think love exists.” He could have kicked her and it wouldn’t have hurt as much. “And you don’t?” “I used to. I stopped.” The kettle began to steam and then switched itself off with a sharp click. Emily was glad of the diversion. He had made himself all too clear. She had always known his reputation. No children. No commitment. What had she thought? That she could change a man like Jake? However much it hurt, she now had to move on. She dropped teabags into the pot and poured in the boiling water. The ceramic lid

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clinked back into place. Emily stared at the cold granite worktop, waiting. “Are you going to involve the police?” “I don’t think they’d be interested in your spurious virginity claims.” “Not funny, Jake.” “Nothing about this situation is funny. Nothing.” Strong hands gripped her arms, made her face him. “Damn it, look at me!” His dark eyes speared her. “You used me, made a fool of me. I don’t forgive that sort of betrayal—” “It wasn’t personal.” Jake laughed. “Are you sure?” His mouth twisted into a grim line and fingers dug hard into the muscles of her arms. “‘Thank your father for destroying mine?’ That sounds personal, Emily.” He’d quoted the last line of her note. She struggled free of his angry grip. “Frederick reveled in the fact that he drove my father to suicide. You can’t deny it. You were there.” His voice was uneven and his gaze dropped. “I investigated your father’s misdealings.” Emily tried to smother the sudden spurt of hope. “And?” “He was guilty.” “What?” “Caring only for themselves. Didn’t I say he was a typical Penvenhan, Emily?” Not him. Not now. The doors to the small patio stood open. A cool breeze often brought the soft scents of the exotics planted thickly in the main garden. But he lounged there now. Richard Stokes. The sun cast him in shadow, creating a false halo over his hair. He straightened. Emily felt every nerve stretch tight. She had thought his mother’s very large inheritance was more important than plaguing her. “I didn’t know you were coming…” “Surprise!” Richard snaked an arm around her shoulders. Emily stumbled awkwardly against him.” I know you wanted time to think about our future. But I couldn’t stay away. “Fingers gripped her. Painfully. “Bobby sends his love.” Emily felt his lips against her hair and held down a shudder. Her gaze flicked to Jake. His jaw was set and fury burned in his gaze. Richard was crazy! What was he doing here? Taunting Jake. And his veiled threat about her brother; she had to play along. However, words wouldn’t form. “And I’ve forgiven Emily for her little… indiscretion.” Jake’s head tilted and Emily knew, knew that Richard Stokes was playing out of his league. “Then you’re a better man than I.” Jake was a big cat toying with its prey. And she didn’t pity Richard. Not one bit.” I could never share anything of mine with another.” He paused. “Live with the doubt that causes.” Richard’s fingers bit into her flesh and she held down a yelp. “Doubt? I’ve always had complete faith in my little Emily.” “Excuse me.” Emily wrenched herself free, ignoring the twisting pain in her shoulder. She wanted to announce that she was not an object to be passed about as a plaything. That Richard Stokes was a bastard. And Jake was worse, because she still loved him. Completely. Hopelessly. Jake watched Emily almost run from the kitchen. He willed himself not to follow

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her. He was an idiot. An absolute idiot. What had he done? Jake had known all along that she was hiding in the Stokes’ family villa. Maria Gonzalez had kept him informed, worried for the woman in her care. The housekeeper had shared her suspicions about Emily and now there was that little white stick, practically screaming at him. She was pregnant with Stokes’ baby… and he had lashed out in shock and pain; needed to deny that he could ever love. Yet, Emily had to hear the truth about her father. And Maria had ensured that Richard Stokes would be in attendance too. “This is my house, Penvenhan. You can leave now.” “No.” Jake enjoyed watching the surge of frustrated anger that Stokes fought to suppress. He focused his thoughts. “So.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a small bottle of mineral water. He pointed it at Stokes. “You think you’ve gotten away with it.” “Gotten away with what?” That diamond-bright grin that had always set Jake’s teeth on edge. “Sex with Emily has addled your brain.” He picked at an imaginary speck of fluff on his immaculate shirt. “It does that.” Jake fought the sudden overwhelming urge to slam Stokes into the nearest wall. Instead, he matched his smile. “I gave Anton a choice.” Jake wandered to the open doors and stared out over the beautifully manicured lawns. “He had to decide who he feared the most.” He flicked a glance back to Stokes, saw the nervous twitch of his fingers. “I won.” “Anton Lucas is hardly a credible witness. His gambling debts alone—” “Then there’s Sarah Evans.” He watched with satisfaction as color drained from Stokes’ face. Jake should have realized earlier that his security had been compromised, but Emily had his thoughts in complete disarray. Fudging video evidence, delaying Emily’s report. Sarah was protecting the man she was sleeping with. “She came to me.” He couldn’t stop the sour laugh. “You got sloppy, Stokes. Sarah Evans is a security professional. She saw you with another woman.” “What do you want?” The words came from gritted teeth. “For you to satisfy my curiosity. What did your father offer Roger Armstrong?” “You found out Emily’s dark little secret. Well, one of them.” “Eric Stokes was involved too?” Emily asked. She stood in the doorway, her face pale and damp with splashed water. Hands curled into tight, bloodless fists. Anger radiated out from her small frame. Another reminder for Jake of the fire, the passion that could suddenly burst out from the quietly contained woman. Why on earth was it making him smile? “Richard?” Emily asked. Because that anger was aimed solely at Stokes. At the man Anton and Sarah said Emily loved. “Emily…” Richard’s wheedling tone only made her face tighter. “I told you the truth about your father,” Richard began. Jake cut him off. “That it was a sting orchestrated by my uncle, Andrew to trap Eric Stokes? But my uncle died. And then my father waded in, completely oblivious to the truth.”

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“Oh God.” Emily stumbled and fell into a chair. “Typical Penvenhan. Always determined to wreck lives.” “Get out. Both of you.” Jake’s heart tugged at the defeat in her voice. He ached to hold her, make promises. But she wasn’t ready to hear that. The wound of hearing that the man she loved had also had a hand in her father’s death was too fresh. Perhaps she would never be ready. But he had to try… He would love her, love her baby. No matter who its father was. Emily Harding had turned his world upside down. He definitely wasn’t used to these selfless thoughts. “We still have to talk, Emily,” he reminded her softly. Stokes’ gaze had followed his to the table. The man grew still. “You’re pregnant?” What was that in his voice? Jealousy? From a man who happily slept with numerous women to achieve his own ends, sent a woman who loved him out to seduce another man. Did Richard Stokes care for Emily after all? Was it his baby she carried? “That’s none of your business, Richard.” “Is it his?” Her nervous eyes found Jake and the fear, the sadness there was a spike in his gut. His baby. Oh God. She was telling the truth… A virgin? But she loved Richard Stokes. Everything had screamed that at him. Or was it something that he had wanted to see? So that he could deny that he had fallen for Emily the moment he first saw her. His mind reeled. This was why he hated love. Jake focused on Emily. “Yes. It is.” She blinked. He was accepting what she said was the truth. Richard bit out a string of foul curses. But Jake’s belief gave her strength in the face of his anger. “What is it, Richard? Too soiled for you?” Cold, pale eyes held her, and she shrugged off the old fear. “I was always honest with you and what I wanted. He,” a nasty curl to his mouth, “used you from the beginning. He knew who hired you. What you had planned.” That familiar smirk, sharkbright and vicious. “Didn’t think a man like Penvenhan would ever look twice at a woman like—” Richard crashed to the floor. Blood leaked from his nose and split lip. His eyes were glazed. He groaned and let his head sink back to the tiled floor. Jake rubbed at reddened knuckles. Her satisfaction at seeing Richard Stokes brought low was short. Was it true? Had he used her? Had he always known? “We’re leaving,” Jake said “No.” “Don’t argue with me, Emily.” “If you think I’m going anywhere with you, then…” “…stay here.” He looked meaningfully at Richard, still lying on the floor, his hand smeared with his own blood. Already the low groaning had stopped. “And wait for him to recover his senses.” “Jake…” “Your choice, Emily.” She ripped her gaze from Richard. “What choice?”

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Chapter Eleven Emily watched the clear Mediterranean water slowly surge over white sand. “I have a taxi waiting,” Jake muttered She ignored him and sank into the cool shade cast by sprawling pine trees. Toes scrunched, digging into the perfect sand. She needed to feel something other than the piercing pain in her heart. “I’m sure you can afford it.” “Emily.” “What?” Her head snapped around. Jake stood beside the gnarled trunk of the nearest pine. He had lost his jacket, top shirt. A thin, white tee shirt clung to this skin, carving out the perfect sculpture of his stomach, chest, biceps. Emily ignored the heat swelling, so unwanted, through her body. He had used her. Hypocrite. Her knees slid up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. Tight. “There’s no need for you to stay, Jake. I can make my own way back to the airport.” “You’re being ridiculous.” “I’m okay with that.” “Damn it!” A couple paddling with their toddler stared at him in surprise. His voice dropped to a hiss. “We’re supposed to be talking.” “We are.” Emily shifted uneasily as Jake sat down beside her. Too close. Again. The slight sea breeze carried his clean, male scent and Emily buried her face against her knees. So stupid to want him, love him. “Hardly.” She heard him blow out bad air. “This is too public. The company jet is sitting on the tarmac at Palma airport. Private enough—” “Jake.” She lifted her face and scrubbed at it with weary fingers. “There’s very little to talk about.” “You’re pregnant with our baby! I’d say that merited some discussion.” “My baby.” “What?” “This was my mistake. Mine completely. I’m not—” “So you intend to convince Stokes that the baby is his. Work your way back into his life.” He thought that she and Richard…? A shudder ran through her frame. “I want that man as far out of my life as I can throw him.” “You’re saying that now.” “You honestly think that?” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Shall I tell you about my past with Richard Stokes? His parents were my guardians for two horrible years. Until they accused me of trying to seduce their precious son.” She breathed in a lungful of fresh air, needing to forget the foul taste of the past. Anger bled away as she gave words to an event that had haunted her. “I was sixteen. Richard was back from university—just graduated. I thought he was incredible. Clever, charming, so handsome. I was sixteen. And stupid. “He waited for me in my bedroom one night. “As I opened the door, saw him standing right in front of me, I knew I didn’t want him there. Told him that. He accused me of leading him on—”

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“Emily…” The light touch of his hand on her bare arm burned through her, searing away the bitter pain of the past. A smile twisted her mouth. “He tried. But he didn’t rape me. I probably gave him a few very, very painful bruises. “And he’s stayed nicely out of my life until a few months ago.” “You should have come to me.” Emily looked at his fingers almost unconsciously stroking her arm. He wasn’t serious, was he? “Just turn up one morning? And while you’re pondering, Richard does more than shatter my brother’s leg. I can honestly say that it never crossed my mind.” “I could have protected you both.” “Like your uncle so obviously protected my father?” “Emily…” Anger boiled his soothing tone. Did he think she was the same stupid woman who had fallen for his surface charm? She shrugged off his touch. “So what was the truth, Jake? Why did your father hound mine to his death?” He winced at her phrasing and her guilt flared briefly. But only briefly. She remembered that he was the enemy, had always been the enemy. To see him any other way was idiocy. “I asked him.” Emily blinked. “You did?” A wry and bitter smile cut his mouth. “He’d been jealous of Roger Armstrong for a long time. My uncle, it seems, trusted your father implicitly. Frederick saw a chance for revenge.” Jake let out a slow sigh. “But I don’t think even he wanted it go that far.” “Didn’t seem that way.” “He’s always needed to present a tough, uncompromising image. His brother was a hard man to follow.” “And then there’s you.” Jake dribbled white sand between his fingers. His voice was so soft Emily almost didn’t catch it. “And then there’s me.” “Outshone by this brother… and then his son.” She understood now that Frederick Penvenhan was a weak man. Understood… but forgiveness was still very far away. “But it’s no excuse.” “For what it’s worth, I plan to clear your father’s name. It’s why I came. To warn you before the media tracked you here.” An honorable reason. Yet some irrational part of her wanted him to say that it was love that had brought him to the secluded corner of Mallorca. Her stomach tightened. It would never be that. Seducing her had been a cynical game. Nothing more. And truthfully, did she deserve his love? She would make him understand why. The words lodged in her throat. Too old a pain. She couldn’t look at Jake and murmured the words at the sand. “I… I was there.” “What? Where?” Emily let out a slow breath. “In the house. It was a Saturday. My mother and Bobby were out. Where’s vague now. Just next door, I think. I’d cut my knee.” Her fingers drifted to the scar hidden by her trousers, absently traced the long cut. Jake was silent. Everything

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was silent. Only the slow rhythm of the gentle waves washing over the sand. “I wanted my daddy.” Climbing the stairs with the stinging pain of her knee. Tears thick on her lashes, calling for him, calling… “He was on the floor. Twisted. Covered in—” Jake’s arms held her tight, the solid heat of him under grasping fingers. Sobs choked her. Her mother had thought that time had erased the terrible memory and Bobby had never known. Jake was the first person she had ever told. “Did he know you were still in the house?” “He can’t have.” She stared up at Jake, not wanting to acknowledge such a disturbing thought. That her father could care so little. “No.” She bit out the word. “Parents are just people. They can be unthinking, selfish.” His calm, rational words infuriated her. She pulled herself free and found her feet. “Don’t compare my father to yours!” She fought the sudden wave of dizziness. “Emily, sit down before you fall down.” “No.” “You’re being ridiculous. Again.” His hand closed around hers and she wanted to ignore the pulse of need that shot through her. He didn’t care. He didn’t. “You have the baby to think of now.” “A baby that you won’t see.” “What?” The word was ice cold. Emily wished that she could take back those words. Her mind spun. Stupid. She just needed time to herself, quiet time to think through— “The baby will have my name.” Saying that she had never liked the name Jake flitted through her mind. But even humor was beyond her. And it would be a lie. She sank reluctantly back into the sand. “Emily, are you listening?” Warm fingers on her chin, turned her face to look at him. She wanted him to stop touching her; to stop the reminders of what she could never have. “That was a proposal.” For a brief second hope flared through her whole body. But then came the smash of reality. That was a proposal. Clinical. Completely unemotional. Said through a reluctant sense of obligation. No. Better not to have him, than live through a sham. Seeing the man she loved, whose baby she carried taking an endless stream of willing women into his bed. No. She deserved more than that. Their child deserved more. “You don’t do marriage,” she said. “Don’t do children.” “You’ve taken away my choice.” Tears stung. “There’s always choice, Jake. This,” she waved at her still flat stomach, “was an accident. Nothing more.” “It’s my baby, Emily. I will not abandon my child. You should know that.” “And where do I fit in, Jake? Allotted weeks like Michelle?” Jake shot up, strode out into the strong morning sunlight. Emily watched him scratch

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shaking fingers through his hair, dig nails into this scalp. It wasn’t anger. Fear hollowed her stomach. Had something happened to Jake’s sister? She pushed herself on to unsteady feet. Her shoes sank uncomfortably into the hot sand and she tugged them free, wincing at the burn on the soles of her feet. “Jake.” Her hand tentatively brushed his arm, felt the heat of his skin, the light dusting of hair. And the instinctive urge to stroke— Damn it. Not now… “Is… is Michelle… all right?” “No… Yes.” His shoulders dropped. “She was involved in a car accident.” “I’m sorry.” “Yes.” The word was clipped, so obviously dismissive. “But Michelle is not your problem.” Emily backed away as he turned. With the sun behind him, his face was in shadow. He loomed too large. “Surely I can ask how she is?” His voice was almost brittle.” She was in a coma for ten days. Various broken bones are practically healed.” His gaze found the horizon and the sun blazed over his hard profile. “And Annabel finally realized she had a daughter rather than an accessory.” “But Michelle’s okay?” “She’s strong. She will be.” For so long he had cut himself off, guarded himself from being too close. From being hurt. Only his sister had access to his heart. And the horror of almost losing her made him realize that life was too short not to risk himself in loving Emily. Jake’s eyes skirted unconsciously down her body. Was that a slight curve there now? His baby. A child that his fear had always denied him. “You have to marry me, Emily.” Her gaze shot to him.” I don’t have to do anything of the kind!” Angry color heated her cheeks and memories of that color flushing her skin for a completely different reason swamped him. He shook off the image. And then it hit him. She had hated him and it had all been done under duress. He remembered the taste of her tears. Was that the shame of a woman who had given her virginity to a man who had used her? “We can start again.” Had she just heard hesitation in his voice? But the harsh set of his features made her doubt herself. A sense of honor over her father had brought him to her. And now a sense of obligation was making him ask her to marry him. Damn it. The man was still playing her. “You don’t have to feel obliged, Jake. I went into the situation fully aware…” A wry smile caught her lips. “Well, I wasn’t prepared for falling pregnant.” “Obliged?” Disappointment soured the word. But that was insane. She tried to tell herself that the man had fooled her before. That she had fallen for his practiced charm. This had to be another ploy to get what he wanted. Didn’t it? She was in the grip of some insanity to be even contemplating this offer. Yet how could she deny herself the chance to be with Jake? A small voice at the back her mind told her she was just setting herself up for more misery. Emily blocked it. She took a deep breath. “Okay.” “Okay?” Jake sank into the shaded sand. There was no smile, not even a nod. Just his shaking fingers scratching white sand through his dark hair.

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Told you. Emily could’ve smacked that now smug little voice at the back of her mind. “Why do I feel like I’ve called your bluff, Jake?” “I suppose I expected more of a fight,” he murmured. He blinked. “The ‘okay’ is about marrying me?” Why did she want to smile? She had just agreed to marry a man who had broken her heart. Her sensible side shifted back and she had to say words that twisted a sharp knife through her gut. “But we both know this is just a sham.” “I intend to honor the vows I make.” “For how long?” Emily shook her head. “Sorry,” she murmured. Reluctantly, she lifted her gaze to his. “But you’ve been forced into this. We’d only known each other for what… eight days?” She caught a betraying flicker. “Or not?” “I was aware of you on your second day in the office.” A coldness washed over her skin. And she thought she’d been successful at melting into the background. He knew everything she’d done. Sabotaging Kate’s computers, breaking into his office. Everything. Probably laughed himself silly at the idiot she was. “I was that obvious?” “You were to me.” “Great.” She forced herself to stand. “You said a taxi is waiting.” Married to Jake. Emily trudged back up the narrow, stone path that led back to the villa. She should be happy. Bobby would be safe. Jake could ensure that. She would be the wife of the man she loved. The mother to his child… children. Her heart did a little flip. No. Jake was tied to her through obligation, a sense of responsibility. She would be trapping him as Annabel had trapped his father. Jake didn’t do commitment. Had never been shown how by either of his parents. Certainly not by his father. Yet he wanted to honor his vows to her. Fidelity? Emily bit at her lip. He would grow to despise her. “I should have said no.” “What?” Growled just behind her. Damn it! She must have spoken those words out loud. She took a steadying breath. “This really won’t work, Jake. I’m not wife material. And you don’t want to be a husband, a father.” That familiar shuttered look. The one that told her never to get too close. A… shield. Hiding what? She had to wonder who the real Jake Penvenhan was; whether she had actually met him at all. “Was any of it real, Jake?” His brow furrowed in confusion. She gave him a bleak smile. “How you acted when you were with me.” “I could ask you the same question.” Emily really couldn’t resist. “But I asked first.” Now was not the time to make jokes. Not if she was going to be honest and if she wanted Jake to be honest with her in return. “I admit, I dressed to try to attract your attention, tried to play the vamp. But I doubt that made any difference. You knew what I was after from the very beginning.” The path narrowed and forced Emily ahead. She wanted to see the effect her admission had on him. To see whether disbelief had twisted his face.

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His silence unnerved her. Emily concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other on the pebble and dirt path. “I wanted you from the first moment I saw you.” Emily stumbled and Jake’s hand shot out to steady her. The softly spoken, almost hesitant words had thrown her. He’d just seen a short dress and layers of make-up. “Irresistible, obviously. The dress was designed that way,” she muttered. “You weren’t wearing that dress.” Jake watched her hand tighten around the wrought iron of the old gate. He had dragged the words into existence, age old fear of hurt and rejection needing to keep them unsaid. He had to tell her. Even if she said that, of course the sex was great but she could never feel that way about him. The image that had haunted him for months. Seeing Michelle in a hospital bed, skin translucent, cut with the dark thread of thin veins. So small. So fragile. A brutal awakening to how uncertain life was; that he should grab at every ounce of happiness. He had been determined that once Michelle recovered he would track Emily down and make her see— Jake expelled a slow breath. Damn it, he was scared. If… possibly when… they married he would have her body. The rapid pulse at the base of her throat, the swift dilation of her eyes told him that. But he wanted more. He wanted her heart. Time to be honest. If she refused him… Fear turned his guts to ice. No. He had to try. “Andrews, from Accounts, was trying to impress you.” A few more interminable seconds of silence. “That awful, lime green tie…” Her voice was filled with an emotion he couldn’t name. She turned and Jake clung to a burst of hope. The softness in her mist gray eyes; the beginning of a smile. “Edged in scarlet. My eyes were smarting. I really wanted to tell him to take it off. But then, maybe he’d get the wrong idea.” The shine of mischief. And it was all Jake could do to stop himself from taking her face in his hands and kissing her senseless. It made him brave. “There wasn’t a woman in my life from that point on.” Her jaw dropped and her sun-warmed skin paled. “Why?” The question stumbled past her lips. Jake gave into the urge and let his fingers caress the smooth skin of her cheek, his thumb delaying on the plump softness of her lip. “I… wanted you.” He cursed his cowardice, but her shock had unnerved him. This woman could hurt him like no other. “I mean…” The speed of her heart was making her head light. “Is this some bizarre reassurance?” He blinked and Emily realized she’s spoken those words aloud. She had to be wrong. “Jake. You really don’t have to do this.” “But I have to do this.” His lips scorched over hers. Searing heat shot through every nerve of her body and her eyes crushed against the intensity of her need for this man. Months. Months apart. Her arms welded him to her. She groaned at the sudden impact of her spine against the pitted limestone wall. That was nothing. His lips, tongue, teeth over her jaw, her throat. Those warm clever, clever fingers lifting her, finding her through the thin material of her trousers. They shouldn’t. It wasn’t solving anything. Even she knew that sex between them was a furious rush of primal need; an incredible— “No.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders, finding strong muscles and bone. “Jake.

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No.” His fire fuelled gaze stared at her in disbelief and something else. Pain. Despair…? Instinctively, her fingers tried to touch the hard plane of his cheek. He flinched. Emily bit at her lip and then the barrier fell over his features. Slow hands let her slide back to the ground. He pinched at his the bridge of his nose. “So, you really did play me for an idiot.” “Jake?” He shrugged off her touch. “No.” The coldness in his voice curled her nails into her palm. “We will get married, Emily. And we will make a show of being the perfect loving couple. Whether you want it or not, I will remain faithful.” He loomed over her. “And I expect the same from you.” “What?” “My touch obviously appalls you, but you will not take a lover.” Emily stared at him. He thought she had rejected him and this was the fury-filled backlash. Her next words felt small in the face of it. “But why would I want anyone else?” “Don’t!” Bitten out, his face tight. “I’ve had enough of game playing. I should never have started any of this with you. I’m sorry.” His laugh was bitter. “I’m being well rewarded for my deception.” He slammed open the old gates. “The taxi is waiting.” “Jake.” “This conversation is over!” Emily ground her teeth. Damn the man! She pushed past him and blocked his path.” No. It isn’t!” She breathed, fighting the urge to shout long and hard at him. “Everything is a mess. I know that. I never thought when I started all of this that I would be so attracted to a man whose family I had always hated.” Sneering disbelief still tightened his features. Emily threw in her last card. “Fall in love with that man.” The instant she said it she wished she could claw the words back. His face was frozen. Unreadable. He probably thought this was another spin, that she was playing more games with him. Jake had never looked for her love, never wanted it. He had loved only one woman—Annabel Rogers—and she had betrayed him. Soured him to every other woman. But even with the twist of pain came a relief. She had told him. “I didn’t want to, fought it to the end. And then, even with your father being so… vile… about my father, I couldn’t deny it. I know I’m not Annabel. That you’ll always love her…” Damn, she could feel the tears pricking the edges of her eyes. Stupid reaction. “But I had to tell you why I’d never put anyone else in my bed.” She swallowed in a tight throat and forced a smile. It felt like a grimace. “Except maybe my teddy bear.” Jake’s thumb gently wiped at the sensitive skin under her eye. Emily blinked and saw the tear caught on the tip, glistening in the strong sun. Her insides contracted. “I vowed I’d never marry,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on the drop of moisture on his thumb. “I’d seen my parents discard so many spouses, moving on when the shine had worn thin. Neither of them cared who they damaged in their wake. I kept attaching myself to new stepfathers, mothers, brothers, sisters. Until the pain of having them continually ripped away made me numb. “Then came Annabel.” A smile quirked his mouth and Emily was relieved to see there was no misery in his

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eyes. “I thought I loved her. I was stupid. It wasn’t love.” The sun was making her hot and dizzy. Or was it hope? “It wasn’t?” “No. She was beautiful, engaging… but… artificial. Everything was an act.” “I’m sorry.” “For what?” “I did the same.” “No.” Jake expression turned so warm and open that Emily’s heart started a panicked beat. “There has never been anything artificial about you. Could never be.” He brushed back the wild tangle of her hair, caught it behind her ear. A simple gesture of affection that brought more stupid tears. Hastily, she wiped at them. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t normally cry. And I’ve cried all over you today.” “What else is a husband for?” There was a gleam to his molten gold eyes that sent a furious heat to her skin. It made her mouth dry. She swallowed. He liked her. He wanted her. Marriages had lasted with less. But still… No. Jake didn’t believe in love. She pushed the pain of disappointment from her mind. Jake was hers. Her love would be enough for both of them. “You might have to remind me.” He pulled a soft kiss from her mouth, bone—meltingly tender. “I never expected this,” he murmured against her lips. “Never believed in love at first sight.” Emily stumbled back from him and stared. “You love me?” “I told you.” “No, you didn’t.” “Yes, I did.” “No, you—” Emily clamped her mouth shut on such silliness. “I would’ve remembered.” Jake’s mouth thinned. There was a long pause. He had said it, hadn’t he? He’d been telling her he loved her from the minute that she’d said she loved him. Hadn’t he? Damn. No, he hadn’t. “All right, maybe I didn’t. But I definitely thought it.” Emily burst out laughing. God, she loved this man! “Say it then.” “I have.” She glared at him. His hands traced a possessive slide over her curves and drew her to him. “I love you. I have since the first minute I saw you. I only denied it because I was… scared.” Emily blinked. This was Jake Penvenhan. He could never be… “Scared?” “That you wouldn’t feel the same way.” His finger traced the familiar path around her lips, his gaze fixed there. “I… I was afraid to love you.” Jake looked up and the sudden vulnerability in his expression made her heart skitter. “I knew how much you could hurt me.” Emily’s fingers tightened in his shirt, could feel the tension in his body. “God, Jake. Never. Ever.” She breathed past her sudden panic… but then a smile curved her mouth. Sometimes she was glad her sense of humor appeared at the most inappropriate times. “That is,” she murmured, her gaze sliding up to his, “unless you absolutely beg me to…” Jake laughed. His palm slid over her cheek, a fingertip idly stroking the shell of her ear, the line of her jaw. His slow, male smile melted her insides. “The minute we get home I’m going to show you how much I love you.”

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Why was it always so difficult to breath around this man? “Promise?” “You know me, Emily. I’m a man of my word.” The End