All Bets Are On (10 page)

He stopped her mid-sentence, leaning forward, catching the curve of her lips perfectly, deliciously with the gentlest, most featherlight touch. He took her lower lip between his own, sucked gently, making every sense in her body seem to zoom in on that one small connection, the touch of his lips and the gentle stroke of his thumb along her jaw. The knot of nerves in her belly loosened meltingly and seemed to slide downwards, pooling hotly at the top of her thighs.

Her sensible agenda was floundering somewhere at the edge of her consciousness. She slid her palms up over his chest, feeling every contour of the taut muscle through his thin T-shirt. She circled his neck, letting her fingers slide into his thick hair.

His free hand curled slowly around her waist, pulling her against him, moulding her body against his. She could feel the hard muscle of his thighs against hers and her knees felt suddenly elastic, as if they might fold underneath her if he carried on much longer.

And then he was slowly withdrawing from her, still with infinite gentleness, pausing to place a final baby kiss on her forehead before he turned to walk away down the path, back to his car. She watched him go, her heart thundering in her chest, surprise flooding in that he hadn’t pressed things further. That would have been exactly her expectation—men like her ex, men like Harry, didn’t do lingering kisses and slow respectful courting. They cut straight to the chase, kisses to be taken as far as they could go. In the past she’d gone along with it because she’d desperately wanted the relationship to work, to be real. At the expense of her own self-respect.

Harry’s deliberate gentle slowness rocked the foundations of her experience of intimacy. In the depths of her mind she knew she wanted him all the more because he’d walked away. As her knees firmed up and she watched him drive away she felt the undeniable and totally disallowable skip of excitement in her chest.

She’d bucked his usual trend.

SEVEN

Rule #8 A player will want to go public with his conquests. You are a trophy, not a girlfriend.

The brink of
a working week full of meetings to decide the direction of the new account didn’t really sit well with a sleepless night.

Not one of this kind at least.

There had been many nights where sleep took a back seat, of course. Sex into the small hours with no strings attached. Yet that had never exhausted Harry’s mind the way last night had over one little kiss. That kiss was progress. A step towards the gravitas win that would show he had the perfect touch. Cash and kudos would be in the bag.

He should have slept like a baby. Instead there were heated delicious imaginings of how it might have been if he’d followed that kiss up instead of retreating to his car, of how the softness of her skin might feel beneath his. Physical frustration wasn’t the end of it. He hadn’t accounted for the unexpected unease that she had given herself up to him. Not completely. Not yet. But enough to push him towards this frustrated sleepless state that felt innately wrong because she had no idea of his hidden agenda.

Turned out he had a conscience. Or at least he seemed to when it came to her. Who knew?

* * *

For the first time in months Alice wore her hair down for work and it was definitely not for the benefit of Harry Stephens. It was simply a part of her re-integration into socialising, an attempt to express a side of herself that wasn’t totally work-driven.

And spending a little longer on her appearance this morning was sensible, because she was likely to be attracting some glances today from her work colleagues. She was actually looking forward to being the centre of attention for a change, this time for a good reason instead of a butt-of-the-joke reason. No one got a reputation like Harry’s from being discreet. So she could expect him to be shouting from the rooftops today that he was dating Alice Ford.

In your face, betting ring participants.

He was late. Typical.

But she was prepared to overlook that as she emerged from the morning meeting expecting to be stared at with envy by the group of gossiping girls around the coffee machine and questioned about her new relationship by her extremely nosy PA. She’d planned to enjoy feeling smug for a bit, then maybe she would suggest to Harry that they grab a sandwich together at lunchtime. Just to cement the fact even further in the minds of her workmates.

Nothing.

No stares, no whispering, no nosy questions. No Harry. Eleven-thirty came and went and his desk remained empty. She kicked herself yet again for losing her mobile phone. The temptation to ring HR and see if he’d called in sick grew by the minute. She toyed with hacking into his work calendar. And the gnawing feeling that she was being played somehow wouldn’t quit.

Worst of all, she really shouldn’t be so infuriated. He was infiltrating her thoughts far too much. She should be completely detached and noting down this new behaviour in her notebook for proper unbiased analysis later.

She swept furiously into her twelve o’clock meeting because of course she really
felt
like discussing packaging right now, and there he suddenly was. As if he hadn’t disappeared for half the day with no word. Two spaces along from her at the oval meeting-room table, a sheaf of notes in front of him. He caught her eye briefly and she shot what she hoped was a seriously dagger-filled look at him.

* * *

Harry raised eyebrows back at her. The frown knitting her eyebrows made her look seriously cute and he found it hard to keep his eyes from darting back to her. He’d left it as long as he could before coming in to work, scheduling in a morning meeting that he could have conducted by phone. All to put off what seemed inevitable. Her knotted-up attitude was bound to give them away. That was if she hadn’t announced their relationship herself already.

He should be revelling in the ability to dangle his prize—so nearly in his grasp—in front of his colleagues, a large proportion of whom had money staked on nailing her themselves. Harry of a week or so ago would have really got off on that, without a moment’s consideration for Alice, secure in the knowledge that they’d clearly agreed on it being just a bit of fun. He told himself it was simply because he wanted the bet won before he broadcast it. No sense in encouraging anyone else to hit on her.

But in the depths of his heart he knew his desire to keep her under wraps had nothing to do with outwitting the competition.

The whole idea felt vaguely seedy now. She wasn’t some airhead who wouldn’t care one way or the other. She was an intelligent woman and he found to his honest surprise that he wanted to be her friend. To hold her up like some almost-his trophy felt distasteful suddenly. There would be no enjoyment in it.

And so he pressed ahead with what he’d decided was his only option. Play down what had gone on between them. Getting a bit of professional distance in place ought to do it, possibly with some kind of disagreement. In short, putting her back up publicly so she would think twice about holding them up as some rainbows-and-butterflies couple.

A bit of antagonism ought to do the trick.

He waited until his input was required by the meeting, until all eyes were on him, and then he turned to Alice, keeping his voice neutral with a dash of animosity.

‘Alice, have you had approval on the packaging design samples?’ he snapped at her, knowing perfectly well that she hadn’t—he’d spoken to the contact himself just that morning.

For a brief moment she stared at him, and then he saw the light blush creep upwards from the silk neckline of her blouse as she realised the CEO was watching her closely.

She flicked through her own sheaf of notes, and looked back at him with a ‘what-the-hell-are-you-doing?’ stare.

‘I’m still waiting for a response on that,’ she said.

He leapt straight back in.

‘
If
you could chase,’ he said irritably. ‘We really can’t move forward until that approval is pinned down. You’re holding up the whole team.’

She was staring at him, lush mouth slightly open in furious disbelief at the obvious dig at her professional ability.

He swept on quickly to outlining his own proposals for brand development and the next time he took a glance at her she was staring down at her notes, a furious expression on her face.

Mission accomplished.

She practically rugby-tackled him by the water cooler outside the meeting room.

‘What the hell was that all about?’

‘What?’

‘Treating me like some inefficient junior. Showing me up.’

He took a deliberate step backwards in case anyone saw them.

‘I was being professional. That’s more important than ever now that we’re dating—if you’re going to hang onto your respect with your colleagues we need to be whiter than white.’

For a moment she looked as if she might explode.

‘Professionalism has never been a priority of yours before!’ she snapped. ‘So what the hell has changed?’

The CEO unexpectedly turned into the corridor flanked by a couple of cronies, just in time for her voice to hit crescendo pitch.

Harry grabbed her by the elbow and propelled her around the corner, out of sight and through the nearest door, which happened to be the stationery cupboard.

She was standing close, inches between them, her face upturned slightly to meet his in the dark stuffy space. He was hotly aware of her nearness. The musty smell of paper and print supplies mingled with the vanilla notes of her perfume. He could just make out the outline of her features and even in the dim light he could see she was furious. His mind chose that moment to play a rerun of yesterday’s kiss and before he could stop himself he was sliding an arm around her waist.

She batted him away angrily.

‘If you think I’m having some tryst with you in the damn stationery cupboard you’re insane,’ she snapped in a stage whisper. ‘What the hell is the big deal with keeping our relationship under wraps? We’re both professionals.’ He saw her shrug in the semi-darkness. ‘Well, I am...’ she added as an afterthought.

‘Why the hell are
you
so keen to broadcast it?’ he hissed back. ‘It doesn’t make sense to me. We’ve agreed it’s nothing serious, you’re supposed to be Miss Professional, so you tell me how affairs with workmates fit into that.’

She made her voice slow and sarcastic. ‘a) It isn’t an affair, and b) in case you’d forgotten, I have a bit of a...what did you call it?
Reputation.
Aloof, you said, didn’t you? Basically meaning frigid. Well, maybe dispelling the gossips might be nice for a change.’

That was so close to the premise of the bet that it made him feel suddenly cold inside. She knew how she was viewed and she hated it. What would she think if she knew he was playing on that very insecurity?

‘I can’t understand why you care so much about what other people might think of you,’ he said. ‘It’s just gossip. I thought you were way stronger than that. Career driven, focused. I’m surprised you’d worry about that superficial rubbish.’

A long silence from her. Long enough for him to hope he’d got through to her.

‘Maybe you have a point about the professionalism,’ she said. ‘Perhaps some distance at work would be sensible. I’ve not long had this promotion.’

‘Exactly.’

He slid his arm back around her waist and tugged her closer.

‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked. ‘How does this fit with keeping a professional distance?’

‘I was talking about above the radar,’ he said, lifting a hand to stroke her hair back from her cheek. Her skin felt satiny and heat began to climb through him. ‘A bit of secrecy adds to the excitement. Now I’ve disrespected you in the boardroom, no one will suspect a thing. I could have you right here and no one would be any the wiser.’

He tangled his fingers in her hair and found her mouth with his in the semi-darkness.

The scent of aftershave, warm skin and the nearness of him made Alice’s knees feel as if they might buckle at any given moment. His lips tasted faintly of the strong coffee he liked. Heat tingled its way through her body. Rationality disappeared and she melted into the deliciousness of the moment, letting her hands tug his shirt free so she could slide them beneath it.

Sudden footsteps passed by on the other side of the door and brought her to her senses like a slap in the face, making her heart leap in her chest. She took an enormous step backwards, forgetting she was in the tiny room, and sat down with an ungainly thump on a stack of boxes. He looked down at her and even in the darkness she knew he was grinning.

‘What if the CEO suddenly decides he needs an envelope?’ she panted.

The very thought made her feel faint with panic. She could hear his breathing, fast, just like her own, and the thought that he was as fired up as she was made her stomach go soft. Then a chink of light slanted into the room as he opened the door a crack and glanced outside.

‘Spoilsport,’ he said as she got to her feet. ‘There’s no one out there. Where’s your sense of adventure?’

‘It’s not about that,’ she whispered, straightening her blouse. ‘It’s about being professional. I’ve got a reputation to think about.’ She glanced his way with a mischievous grin. ‘Whereas yours is already in tatters. I’m more than happy to announce to the team that we’re dating like grown-ups, but being caught in a clinch with you in the stationery cupboard does
not
fit my managerial role.’

‘Doesn’t mean you don’t want to!’

He leaned in and stole another quick soft kiss that made her heart thunder back into action, then gave in and held the door open for her.

As they walked together back down the hall she looked straight ahead and kept a sensible distance between them, smiling and nodding efficiently at everyone who passed them.

‘You won’t need to worry for the next day or so anyway,’ he said.

‘How do you mean?’

‘I’m away tonight. There’s a development meeting at the client’s head office tomorrow, focusing on the logo design. It’s in Manchester.’

Manchester was two hundred miles away. A bit of distance, a chance to get some perspective. Exactly what she needed right now. She latched on to that thought and crushed the stupid sensation of disappointment that rose alongside it because she wouldn’t see him for a day or so. For Pete’s sake, she wasn’t some lovesick teenager.

‘Fine,’ she said.

‘Really?’ He leaned in a little and she leaned the other way to compensate. ‘Will you miss me?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ she said. ‘I’ll probably go out.’

‘On your own?’

The question irked her. Did he actually think her social ability relied completely on him?

‘I don’t need to be on your arm to leave the house,’ she said.

* * *

Harry slammed the door on the mini bar and flicked through the TV channels for the fifth time. He’d spent the early part of the evening eating dinner with colleagues and discussing the meeting tomorrow but for some reason the suggestion of going on for a drink elsewhere hadn’t appealed in the way it usually did. He must be tired. Innova had stumped up for the usual basic standard of hotel and the room didn’t have much to offer in terms of relaxation. He’d never noticed the mediocre standard of accommodation before—he was never in it for long enough to find anything to complain about.

He picked up the laminated TV instructions. For seven quid he could watch a choice of blockbuster, romantic comedy or porn. None of which appealed. He crushed the small insistent voice in his mind that he was missing her. He was just bored, that was all this was. It had absolutely nothing to do with the thought of Alice back in London. He really didn’t care whether she actually
had
gone out alone or whether she’d just said that for effect. He was simply thinking of the bet. He didn’t want her meeting anyone else now and scuppering his chances. Of winning the bet, of course, not of winning her.

In fact, just because he was away for the night, didn’t mean he couldn’t keep the pressure on and move things a bit further along from a distance.