Harlequin KISS August 2014 Bundle (61 page)

He shook his head. ‘Nope, I don’t. I’ve got to get Security in here to remove you from the premises.’

The panic erupted in her chest; this was her chance and she’d blown it. Unless... Maybe now was the time to utilise her black belt in taekwondo.

Propelled by the sheer impossibility
of failure, Olivia launched herself at him.

‘What the—?’

Taking advantage of his millisecond of surprise, she knocked the phone from his hand.

To no avail.

In a fluid movement he’d caught the mobile and shock juddered Olivia’s body as she collided with an immovable wall of chest. Strong arms locked behind her back in a hold way too powerful for her to break even as she leant
back, shoving her palms flat against his chest.

Her breath escaped in short, sharp pants as she looked up at him. For a fleeting second his light brown eyes darkened and focused on her lips. Unable to help herself, she dropped her gaze to his mouth as a sudden shiver prickled her skin.

A shiver not of fear but of desire.

Which was ridiculous. Right now her instincts should have
kicked in; she should be at least attempting to struggle free. Instead she couldn’t stop staring at the mesmerising shape of those firm, capable lips. His heart pounded under her hand; her fingers curled into the silk of his white shirt.

As she pressed her own lips together to moisten them something primal flickered in his eyes. His arms tensed to pull her forward. Then abruptly he released
her.

Her skin tingled where his arms had touched her and Olivia stepped backwards, until the cold marble of the counter pressed into the backs of her thighs. Her heart thumped painfully against her ribcage. Perspective—she desperately needed to locate some. Along with control. Her master plan was in tatters and somehow she had to salvage it. Before Adam Masterson called Security.

He
stood there, those gorgeous lips set in a grim line. Anger darkened his face; his eyes were cold chips of mud. ‘Lady, just how far are you prepared to go to bag me?’

‘Excuse me?’ What was he talking about? Perhaps his proximity had addled her brain cells completely. Somehow she had to pull herself together and try and turn this situation around. She had no idea what had happened in those
charged seconds in his arms but she couldn’t let it ruin everything. ‘I don’t understand.’

An exasperated sigh hit the air. ‘Drop the act. I know you’re here to “bag me”,’ he said, hooking his fingers in the air to indicate quotation marks.

‘As in murder you and put you in a body bag? Tempting, but given your security levels I’ll pass.’

For a second she thought she saw his lips
give the tiniest of quirks. Was it possible the man possessed a sense of humour?

He swiped his hand over his mouth and shook his head. ‘You haven’t heard of Bag a Billionaire?’ The narrowed eyes, the creased forehead were both clear indicators of patent disbelief; the gleam of humour had obviously been a mirage.

‘Nope. Honest.’

His frown deepened. ‘In a nutshell, some idiot magazine
reporter wrote an article advising wannabe gold-diggers on how to bag themselves a billionaire and identified me as the target. Since then I’ve arrived home to find a naked woman in my bed with “Kiss me Quick, Kiss me Slow” tattooed on her stomach and an arrow pointing downward, my mail yesterday included some rather explicit photographs, I have had women break the heels of their shoes and collapse
in a heap in front of me, and women’s cars seem to miraculously break down wherever I go.’ Pausing, he eyed her. ‘I’m sure you get the picture.’

‘That’s terrible,’ Olivia said. ‘But...’

‘Terrible?’ he echoed, the mocking note jarring through the air. ‘I agree. Though I must say no one has resorted to gatecrashing a party with quite such style as you have.’

It took a minute for the
implications of his words to sink in before outrage smacked her mouth wide open. ‘You think... You mean... You think I’m like one of those women?’

He leant back against the wall, arms folded. ‘You’ve broken into my hotel and thrown yourself into my arms in a dress that is conveniently falling off you—what do you expect me to think?’

Anger started to bubble at his sheer arrogance, stirred
frothier by the small part of her that conceded the devil had a point.

One hand slammed on her hip even as the other held the dress up. ‘I admit I’ve broken into your hotel, but I did not
throw myself
at you. I promise you I haven’t risked arrest for the supposed pleasure of “bagging” you.’

For a moment he studied her face and she met his gaze full-on, saw something flicker in the milk
chocolate depths. She prayed he could hear the truth in her voice. Otherwise he would have her marched out of here any second now and she couldn’t let that happen. There was way too much at stake here—and not just for herself.

‘Please,’ she said. ‘I understand why you are suspicious but you don’t need to be. I promise. Give me a chance to prove it to you. Hear me out. Please.’

‘Fine,’
he said. ‘You’ve got ten seconds.’

TWO

Hard to
tell who was more surprised—the strawberry blonde stranger or himself. Irritation coursed through his veins; he’d been blindsided by a beautiful face and a spectacular body. This woman was bad news, and no matter what lies she was about to spin from that gorgeous mouth the key point was that they
would
be lies—a calculated strategy with the aim of locating his wallet.

The chances of her not being a billionaire-bagger were minuscule, yet there had been a vibrancy to her voice, a desperate glint in those hazel eyes that had clouded his usually impeccable judgement.

Pushing the sleeve of his tux jacket up, he looked at his watch. ‘Five seconds left. Four...three...’

‘My mother is pregnant,’ she blurted out.

Her words echoed around the bathroom
and bounced off the mirrored tiles.

What on earth did she expect him to do? Maybe she
wasn’t
a billionaire-bagger. Maybe she was crazy. ‘Offer her my congratulations,’ he said. ‘And now I think it’s time for you to go.’

‘I need to tell you who the father is.’

Adam gusted out a sigh. ‘Lady, if you think you can scam me into believing it’s me that’s
not
going to fly.’

For a start
his unwanted intruder had to be in her mid-twenties, and he hadn’t dated an older woman in a very long time. But even if that weren’t the case Adam always made 100 per cent sure that pregnancy was an impossibility. One thing was certain in his life: he was not father material. After all, he was a Masterson through and through and he knew his own limitations. The less than stellar circumstances
of his marriage had showcased his shortcomings all too brightly.

‘I’m not trying to scam anyone.’ Her hands twisted into the folds of her black dress. ‘The baby’s father is
your
father. Zebediah Masterson. And I need to find him.’

Long practice at the poker table kept his face neutral even as her words travelled towards him in slow motion, each one slamming into him with the force of
a sucker punch.

Come on, Adam. Keep cool.
This was nothing more than an über-clever scam, a fantastic concoction woven to get his attention.

‘Rubbish,’ he stated.

‘It’s not rubbish.’ One slim hand rose to jab the air in emphasis; her other hand still held the black dress up. ‘Or rocket science. It’s simple biology. My mum is pregnant and Zebediah is the father. So I need to find
him.’

Moisture prickled his temple with foreboding before common sense reasserted itself. No way would Zeb want a replay of fatherhood. Plus, surely even Zeb would have bothered to get in touch over something like this?

‘I don’t think so,’ he said.

‘And
I
don’t think you get it. I need to find him because I need to tell him about the baby. He doesn’t know.’

For a treacherous
second relief ran through his veins; if this preposterous tale was true at least Zeb hadn’t deliberately walked away from another unwanted baby. The way he’d walked out on Adam.
Whoa.
This wasn’t about the past; it was about the here and now and this no doubt mythical baby.

‘I see,’ he said, allowing scepticism to load each syllable. ‘How convenient for you.’

Hazel eyes narrowed. ‘There
is nothing convenient about this. Have you any idea how difficult it is to locate your father? I’ve spent weeks looking for him and finally I discovered
you
. So if you could just tell me how to contact him I’ll be on my way.’

Was she serious? ‘Not happening.’

Brows just a shade darker than her hair arched. ‘Why not?

‘Because I don’t want you harassing my father with some trumped-up
paternity suit.’

‘Trumped-up paternity suit?’
Her free hand clenched into a fist and he braced himself. ‘Why are you assuming it’s trumped-up? For—’

The buzz of his phone cut off whatever else she had been about to say. He pressed it his ear and Nate’s voice erupted.

‘What’s going on in there? Guests are arriving thick and fast and they are getting more and more curious.’

‘The intruder isn’t a threat.’ Or at least not to the guests; she was having a less than happy effect on him. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’ Once he’d decided what to do about Little Miss Minx and her preposterous claim. In the meantime, with any luck, his guests’ curiosity might divert them from the billionaire-bagging hunt.

Dropping the phone back into his pocket, he studied her. Hmm... He
drummed his fingers on his thigh as he went through the options, a glimmer of a possibility sparking.

‘You can’t just go,’ she said. ‘I need to know where to find your dad.’

‘No.’ Adam considered his idea from all angles. ‘Turn around.’

‘What?’ Bewilderment layered her voice

‘Turn around. I’ll zip the dress up for you.’ He tipped his palms into the air. ‘You’re going to the
ball.’

It was the perfect solution. She remained where he could see her until he could disprove her story. And, as the icing on the cake, if he turned up to the ball with a beautiful woman on his arm he’d have a shield against all the other billionaire-baggers. Win-win. Adam made no effort to conceal the smirk that touched his lips.

There was a moment’s silence as her jaw dropped. ‘Don’t
be ridiculous.’

‘I’m not being ridiculous. You strike me as a loose cannon. So until I understand the situation you will stay glued to my side.’

The words triggered an unwanted reaction: the thought of how she had felt in his arms earlier made his fingers itch to pull her right back to him. Madness, and yet she was the epitome of allure. The expressive hazel eyes, the delicate elven
features and luscious mouth combined to make her ludicrously kissable.

Throw in hair the colour of sunset and a body that showcased curves in all the right places and he was in trouble.

His fingers tingled.
Hell.
All of him tingled and any desire to smirk left him.

Great.
His libido had decided to overlook the fact that this woman was an adversary, only here as a player in an elaborate
scheme. Though unlike the other baggers it could be that her plan was to forgo the billionaire and aim straight for the money. Use Zeb to get to the cash. His expression hardened. No way was that happening—and she’d seriously underestimated him if she thought it was.

‘I have no intention of being glued to your side.’ Pushing herself off the sink, she glared at him. ‘And I am not coming to
the ball. It doesn’t even make sense.’

‘It makes perfect sense to me. You could go to the press. You could disappear and resume your quest for Zeb. You know what? I have no idea what kooky scheme you may come up with.’

‘I wouldn’t go to the press!
Why
would I do that?’

‘Publicity? Money? Fun? I don’t know.’ Raking a hand through his hair, he stepped forward. ‘Why would you break
into my hotel to gatecrash my party? It’s hardly the mark of a sane woman.’

‘It’s the mark of a desperate woman.’ Anger sparked the hazel of her eyes with green flecks. ‘Funnily enough breaking and entering wasn’t my number one choice. I tried to get hold of you by more conventional methods but your PA wouldn’t let me near you and you ignored my letters,’ she continued. ‘Presumably I fell
into the probable billionaire-bagger category.’

‘Honey, you
still
fall into that category.’ And he’d better not forget it. Glancing at his watch, he muttered a curse. ‘We can discuss all this later. Right now you are coming with me.’

‘Says who? You can’t force me to go with you.’

‘Want to bet?’ Adam took another step forward. ‘Here’s your choice. You can put your shoes on and accept
my kind invitation or I will call the police and have you charged with breaking and entering. Your call.’

Her whole body vibrated in sheer disbelief. ‘That’s blackmail!’

‘Breaking and entering is a criminal offence,’ he returned.

‘I had a good reason.’

‘So do I. So, prison or party? Your choice.’

Her lush lips pressed together as she stared at him before hitching slim
shoulders. ‘Fine. I’ll come to the party. But you have to promise me that afterwards you will give me your father’s contact details.’

Unease solidified in his gut; there was no hint of insincerity in her voice. In fact if push came to shove he would swear she didn’t want to come to the party at all.

‘After the party we talk,’ he said. Given twenty minutes, he had no doubt he could rip
her story to shreds.

‘Fine,’ she agreed, and reached round to tug at the zip on her dress once more.

‘Let me do that.’

For a moment he thought she’d refuse, but instead she gave another little shrug and spun around to place one palm flat on the marble counter, strawberry head bowed as though she didn’t wish to see his or her reflection in the mirror.

Probably a good thing.
Because confronted with the smooth expanse of her back his lungs constricted and heat tingled on his cheekbones.

It’s only a back, Adam.

Yet his fingers trembled as he reached out and inadvertently brushed the base of her spine as he tugged at the zip.

‘It’s stuck,’ he said, the words straining past the breath of disproportionate desire that had hitched in his throat.

‘I know
that.’ The snap of her words was insufficient to drown her audible gulp; the small shiver that caressed her skin in goosebumps testified to the effect of his touch. ‘I told you that I wasn’t deliberately falling out of it.’

With relief he freed the silken material and whooshed the zip up, the noise vying with the pounding in his ears

‘So how will you explain who I am?’ she demanded as
she turned to face him.

‘I’ve been thinking about that.’

‘Oh, goodie,’ she said. ‘Care to share?’

His lips twisted with the irony of his idea. ‘Congratulations! You’ve bagged a billionaire.’

Her body froze into utter immobility before she shook her head. ‘I am
not
coming as your billionaire-bagger date.’

Adam frowned; behind the anger in her eyes was a vulnerable gleam
of genuine horror.

‘No way am I walking in there with everyone believing I’m with you for your money. I’d
rather
go to prison.’

‘Don’t be melodramatic. Who cares what people think?’ Adam lifted his shoulders in pure indifference.

‘In this case, me,’ she said, as her hands slammed on the curve of her hips.

Irritation coursed through his veins at the continued sheer sincerity
of her tone and the fact that he couldn’t work her out.

‘Tough,’ he said. ‘You’re coming to the ball—and what’s more you’re coming as my date. I’d rather people assume you’ve bagged me than work out why you are claiming to be here. I do
not
want any publicity about this.’

‘What happened to not caring about what people think?’

‘Honey, I don’t care what people think about
you
. I
do
care what they think about my dad. And right now I don’t need the publicity backlash.’ Not when he was hosting the gala tonight and launching another charity event the next evening. ‘The press are already having a field day with the bagger theme.’ Amazing how many women were willing to bare their bodies and perjure their souls by lying to the tabloids.

Resolve hardened in him. No way was
all the hard work and effort he had put into the Support Myeloma charity going to waste. Not one copper penny should be diverted from the cause he championed in his mother’s memory. An image of his mother sprang to mind: pale and weak, but still with the beautiful smile that would stay with him for eternity. Those last words of love: ‘You brought me joy, baby. Remember that. Be happy. I love you.’

Adam blinked away the memory as a small assessing frown creased the brow of his new date for the night. ‘So no matter what happens the press are not getting their grubby paws on this trumped-up story of yours.’

His words were calculated to annoy her; a riled adversary was far more likely to slip up. ‘It is
not
trumped-up,’ she said, the words hissing through gritted teeth,

Adam shrugged.
‘The papers won’t care whether it is or not; they will still have a good old grub around. Your life and your mother’s life will be taken apart with a fine toothcomb.’

Her skin paled and wariness entered her hazel eyes. ‘I don’t want publicity, either. I just want to find your father. That’s all.’

‘I get that. But right now I have a charity ball to host and a reporter out there who will
be very interested in who you are. So you are coming as my date.’

She expelled a gusty sigh. ‘Fine.’

Anyone would think he’d asked her to hook up with the devil himself. ‘It won’t kill you. You may even have fun.’

‘Yeah, right. Somehow I doubt that.’

Affront touched his chest.
Grow up, Adam.
Why did he care that she seemed so anti the whole idea of being with him? ‘Then you
need to pretend. I want to make sure all the other billionaire-baggers out there believe I’m bagged for the night.’

Her mouth smacked open. ‘This gets better and better. So this isn’t just for the reporter, or to keep me in sight. You’re going to use me as
protection
. Big, strong man like you?’

‘Size and strength aren’t much use against a pack of scavenging gold-diggers.’ He shrugged.
‘I’ll use what it takes. Hey, I’ve got no issues with using a beautiful woman as a shield.’

Her dark eyebrows rose. ‘And if I
wasn’t
beautiful?’ she asked, and he could almost see icicles form around each word.

‘Then it wouldn’t work,’

Disdain flashed from her hazel eyes and desire tugged in his groin. Standing there in the simple elegant black dress, she looked magnificent.

‘The magazine article specified that only beautiful women should enter the arena,’ he explained.

His words did nothing to mollify her. ‘No doubt based on your past dating career?’

‘Most of my dates
are
beautiful,’ he agreed. ‘I’m not going to apologise for that.’ Yet his conscience gave a sudden inexplicable twang. ‘So let’s make sure everyone believes that we are on a date, OK? And try
and look happy about it. A lot of women would pay to be in your shoes.’