The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (236 page)

‘Can I get you another drink?'

Her glass was almost empty, and she surveyed it speculatively, not wanting to offer any encouragement for Raoul to remain at her side. ‘I think I'll wait for coffee.'

‘Which probably won't be served for another half hour,' Raoul drawled, and she offered him a witching smile that didn't reach her eyes.

‘Then you mustn't let me keep you.'

Amusement tinged his expression. ‘A politely veiled directive?'

‘However did you guess?'

He was silent for several seconds, then he ventured with dangerous softness, ‘Did Emma's father hurt you so badly?'

She met his gaze with fearless disregard, aware he saw more than she wanted anyone to see. It unsettled her, and attacked the carefully constructed wall she'd erected guarding her emotions.

A mix of emotions warred with each other as she
sought to control them. ‘It's none of your business,' she managed to say with equal quietness.

There was a ruthlessness evident in those compelling features she found disconcerting.

‘Does it not occur to you that I might choose to make it my business?'

‘And if I choose not to let you?'

He was silent for several long seconds. ‘Do you think you can stop me?'

She deliberately raked him from head to toe, and back again. ‘You'd be a fool to even try.'

‘I've been accorded many things,' Raoul said with indolent amusement. ‘A fool isn't one of them.'

She'd had enough. Enough of this indomitable man, the party, and she wanted nothing more than to leave. Except her boss would undoubtedly frown on her early departure.

‘Excuse me,' she voiced coolly. ‘There are a few business associates I really should speak to.'

He let her go, watching as she eased her way across the room, pausing to chat momentarily before moving on. She possessed a natural grace, a fluidity of movement that reminded him of a dancer on stage.

‘Lovely evening,' a pleasant feminine voice intruded, and he shifted his attention to the strikingly beautiful young blonde at his side, who, he acknowledged cynically, was aware of every feminine ploy and not averse to using each and every one of them.

Her conversation was scintillating with just the right degree of sexual promise in the full mouth, the touch of her hand on his arm.

Yet she didn't interest him, and all too frequently he found his attention straying to an attractive blue-eyed strawberry blonde who was as intent on fighting the sexual tension between them as he was in pursuing it.

Stephanie sipped the contents of her glass and fought the temptation to check her watch.

‘All alone?'

Her heart sank a little as she summoned a polite smile.

‘Samuel,' she acknowledged. As an advertising executive, Samuel Stone was almost without equal. As a man, he possessed one fatal flaw: he believed he was God's gift to women.

‘You
have
moved in exalted circles tonight. The elder Lanier brother, and none other than Bruno Farelli himself paying you attention.' He moved close and ran an idle finger down the length of her arm. ‘Nice going, darling. I wonder who you'll choose.'

‘Neither.'

‘Thus leaving the coast clear for me?'

Stephanie swept him a cool glance. ‘When are you going to stop playing this wearisome game?'

His smile held a slightly cruel twist. ‘You're the one I haven't caught, Stephanie.'

‘You never will,' she stated dryly.

‘Never is a long time, darling, and I'm remarkably persistent.'

‘Two years, and you still haven't got the message.' She shot him an exasperated look. ‘How many times do I need to spell it out?'

‘You do disinterest well.'

This was becoming tiresome. ‘It's for real, Samuel.'

‘Why don't I believe you?'

‘Because you have a serious ego problem.' She caught sight of two waiters setting up urns, cups and saucers. Thank heavens!

‘Come out with me afterward. We'll go on to a nightclub, dance a little, get comfortable…'

‘No.' She turned away from him only to have his hand take possession of hers. ‘Don't do this, Samuel,' she warned in a deadly quiet voice.

‘I believe the lady said no,' a faintly accented voice stated with dangerous silkiness.

Oh Lord, this was just what she needed. Two men at daggers drawn in a bid for her attention. She should have been flattered. Instead she felt vaguely sickened.

‘I was hoping to change her mind,' Samuel indicated, releasing her hand.

Raoul's gaze was intent. ‘I would say your luck just ran out.'

Samuel inclined his head in an elaborate bow. ‘See you around, Stephanie.'

Not if I see you first, she vowed silently.

‘You work with him?' Raoul queried when Samuel was out of earshot.

‘Liaise,' Stephanie enlightened. ‘Advertising and marketing go hand-in-hand.' She drew a deep breath and released it slowly. ‘If you'll excuse me, I'll go get some coffee.'

‘I'll join you.'

She gave him a sharp look, opened her mouth to decline his company, then closed it again.

‘Emma has fully recovered?'

‘Yes.' She was conscious of being unobtrusively led toward the table where coffee and tea were being dispensed. ‘Yes, she has.'

‘Two coffees. One black, the other white with one sugar,' Raoul instructed, then with a cup held in each hand he indicated the wide expanse of floor-to-ceiling glass. ‘Let's go take a look at the view.'

Darkness had descended, and the many high-rise buildings appeared as brightly lit towers set against an inky sky. There were boats anchored in the vast marina, and the water resembled dark satin ribboned by the reflection of an ascending moon.

Stephanie stood in silence and sipped her coffee, increasingly aware of Raoul's close proximity as she focused on the immediately adjoining restaurant complex. Patrons enjoying their meal were partly visible, and there were couples, families, strolling along the boardwalk, pausing from time to time to admire some of the large cabin cruisers moored side by side.

It was a peaceful sight, with the sound of music providing a background to the chatter and laughter.

A powerful engine sprang to life from the marina, and minutes later a fully lit cruiser eased out from its berth and headed toward the main channel.

‘This reminds me a little of the south of France,' Raoul revealed, indicating the marina. ‘Have you traveled at all?'

‘North America.' It seemed ages ago, a part of her past she no longer chose to dwell on.

‘A holiday?'

‘Yes.' A conducted tour in the company of the man she was to marry. Post Ben, pre-Emma.

‘You visited New York?'

‘I loved the beat of the city, the pulse of life. Seen as a tourist,' she ventured quietly. ‘I imagine everyday reality causes it to lose some of the glamour.'

She finished the last of her coffee. ‘I really must leave. Sarah has exams tomorrow, and I promised not to be late.'

‘I'll walk you to your car.'

‘There's no need. I parked in the Mirage shopping complex, and the area is well-lit.'

‘Come, we'll find Bruno and you can tell him you've enjoyed a pleasant evening.'

‘I can do that quite well on my own.'

He took her cup and placed it down onto a nearby side table along with his own.

‘You don't listen, do you?' Stephanie vented with angry resignation as he accompanied her across the room.

Bruno was engaged in conversation with two men, and he looked up as Raoul drew close.

‘You are leaving? So soon?'

‘It's been a lovely evening,' Stephanie complimented with a warm smile. ‘Thank you.'

‘I will be in touch with Raoul about dinner. Toward the end of the week?'

‘I don't think—'

‘We'll confirm with you,' Raoul indicated smoothly.

Stephanie waited until they gained the main foyer before trusting herself to speak. ‘Just what did you think you were doing back there?'

‘Specifically?'

‘Accepting a dinner invitation on my behalf!'

‘My exact words conveyed we'd confirm.'

She shot him a baleful glare as they passed through the front entrance.
‘We?'
Her voice rose a fraction. ‘
You
can make whatever plans you like!'

‘I intend to. Be aware they'll also include you.'

‘The hell they will!' They gained the pavement, and she turned to face him, anger emanating from every pore. ‘I don't need a bodyguard, and I especially don't need you to assume a role in my life.' She undid the clasp of her evening purse and extracted her car keys. ‘Good night!'

She'd parked the car at street level, and there was only a short distance to walk. She gained less than half a dozen paces when Raoul fell into step at her side.

‘You are, without doubt, the most infuriating man I've ever had the misfortune to meet!' she vented furiously as she reached her car.

‘In that case, I have nothing to lose.' In a swift synchronized movement he brought her close, slid one hand to cup her head as he captured her lips with his own.

For several long seconds she fought against succumbing to the melting sensation threatening to de
stroy all rational thought. Her hands lifted to pummel his shoulders, only to fall onto each forearm as she opened her mouth to him.

Oh God, she begged in silent plea as his tongue took an evocative exploratory sweep. Don't do this to me. Why,
why
were her emotions at such variance with the dictates of her brain? All it took was his touch, and she fell to pieces.

Raoul sensed the moment she gave in, and he deepened the kiss, taking her to new heights in emotional intensity.

Her response drove him to cup her bottom and lift her close against him. He wanted more, much more, and the temptation to invite her to his hotel suite was imperative. Except such an action would destroy any advantage he might already have gained.

Instead he eased the pressure, lightening the kiss until his lips brushed gently back and forth over her own, and he slid his hands to cradle her face as he slowly lifted his head.

Her eyes were wide, dilated, and filled with shimmering moisture. The sight of those unspilled tears caused his gut to tighten, and undid him more than any words she might have uttered.

He brushed his thumb over the lower curve of her lip, and felt its faint tremor. He wanted to draw her back into his arms, and simply hold her. Rarely had he glimpsed such naked vulnerability in a woman's eyes, and there was a part of him that seethed in silent anger against the man who had put it there.

He saw the effort it cost her to regain control, to gather her defenses together and step back from him.

His hands slid down her arms and settled on her wrists. ‘Stephanie—'

‘I have to go. Please.'

The last word held a slightly desperate edge, and he released her, took the keys from her nerveless fingers, unlocked the car door and saw her seated behind the wheel.

Stephanie fired the engine, then barely resisted the temptation to reverse at speed, then send the car tearing out onto the road.

It was only supreme control that stopped her, and she didn't cast Raoul so much as a glance as she eased into the flow of traffic.

She wasn't conscious of having held her breath until she released it in a long pent-up groan.
Why
had she allowed herself to fall into that kiss?

A choked laugh caught in her throat. Raoul Lanier hadn't really given her an option! Except she hadn't fought him, and she should have. For her own emotional sanity, not to mention her peace of mind.

She drove automatically, conscious of the traffic, the intersections, the computerized lights as she traversed the main highway toward Mermaid Beach.

Yet she retained a vivid image of how Raoul's mouth had possessed her own, the slide of his hands, and her body's damnable reaction.

She had sworn after Ben that she'd never allow another man to get close to her again. She'd trusted one, and had that trust broken. Just as she had loved,
and discovered her interpretation of
love
and Ben's didn't match.

There was Emma, dear sweet innocent Emma. It was enough. She didn't want or need a man to complicate her life. And she especially didn't need Raoul Lanier, who, in a week or two, would board a plane and jet off to the other side of the world to take up where he left off with his life.

He probably had a mistress.

Now why did that cause her stomach to perform a painful somersault? She didn't
like
the man, she definitely disliked the way he affected her, and she had no intention of allowing a personal relationship to develop between them.

Stephanie reached the fringes of suburban Mermaid Beach, and minutes later she turned into her driveway, activated a modem and garaged the car.

Indoors, Sarah relayed all was well and gathered up her books, then Stephanie kept watch until the girl reached her home safely before locking up.

Emma slept peacefully, and Stephanie tucked in the blanket, moved the teddy bear, then quietly retreated to her own room.

I
T HADN'T
been the best of mornings, Stephanie reflected as she checked her computer's electronic mail. No doubt compounded by the fact she hadn't slept well and was nursing a headache.

One message was headlined as Urgent, and she uttered a soft curse as she clicked it open. The date for the movie's photographic shoot needed to be rescheduled. Could she contact the Sheraton management, organize a suitable time to check the proposed layout, liaise with the photographer and confirm this afternoon?

She reached for her phone, only to have it beep, and she automatically lifted the receiver. ‘Yes?'

‘I have Raoul Lanier on hold,' Isabel intoned.

Stephanie's stomach immediately curled into a tight ball. ‘Have him call back.'

‘Okay. Any message?'

Not one you could repeat, she ruminated darkly. ‘No,' she managed to say evenly. ‘Can you get me Alex Stanford on the line? Try his cell phone.' The photographer was one of the best, and with luck he'd be able to spare half an hour to go over the proposed shots.

Thirty minutes later she'd tied it all together, and
ignoring her scheduled lunch break she slid into her car and drove to Main Beach and the Sheraton Hotel.

Alex was waiting in the lobby when she arrived, and together they descended the central staircase, walked out to the pool area, tossed around indoor and outdoor locations, the portrayed mood she wanted to convey, and fixed on a few possible time frames for the following week, subject to confirmation.

Stephanie extracted her diary, wrote in the dates and times, noted contact names at the film studio, advertising, wardrobe.

‘Okay, that's it,' she assured, replacing the diary into her satchel. ‘I'll ring when I've pinned it down. Thanks,' she added with a genuine smile as they reentered the lobby. ‘I appreciate your help.' Her cell phone rang, and she wriggled her fingers at Alex as he departed for the lift, then she took the call.

Five minutes later she pushed the cell phone into her bag and made for the central stairs leading up to reception. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her she'd had to forego lunch, and she contemplated whether to cross the footbridge to the shopping complex for a coffee and sandwich, or whether she'd simply stop somewhere and pick up something to eat on the way back to the office.

She reached the top of the stairs and made her way through the foyer. Coffee and a sandwich in a café overlooking the Broadwater won out.

‘Stephanie.'

It was an instantly recognizable male voice, the
drawling faintly accented tone causing all her fine body hairs to stand up in protective self-defense as she turned to face the man who had indirectly caused her a sleepless night.

Raoul Lanier. Looking every inch the powerful executive, attired in a dark business suit, crisp white shirt and dark silk tie. Expensive tailoring emphasized his breadth of shoulder, accentuated his height and added to an overall aura of sophistication.

She looked…fragile, Raoul decided as he subjected her to a studied appraisal. Her eyes were the deepest blue, and there were faint shadows apparent that indicated she hadn't enjoyed a peaceful night's sleep…any more than he had. Something that pleased him.

Stephanie saw that he wasn't alone. Bruno Farelli, an attractive blonde, and a young child were with him.

Her cool gaze was controlled, her slight smile a mere facsimile. ‘Raoul, Bruno,' she acknowledged.

‘A pleasure to see you again,' Bruno enthused, and indicated the woman at his side. ‘Allow me to introduce my wife, Adriana, and our daughter, Lucia.'

The little girl stole her heart, she resembled a miniature angel, beautifully dressed with gorgeous blond curly hair and a winsome smile.

‘Adriana.' Stephanie's features softened as she greeted the child. ‘Hello, Lucia.'

‘Bruno mentioned you,' Adriana offered warmly. ‘We have just emerged from a long lunch.'

Stephanie responded an appropriate platitude. ‘I hope you enjoy your stay here.'

‘You must join us for dinner,' Adriana pressed with a smile. ‘I believe you have a little girl of Lucia's age. It would be delightful for them to meet. Are you free tomorrow evening?'

Oh hell. How did she handle that? With grace, she decided reluctantly. Bruno Farelli was a very influential man, and the agency she worked for was handling his account. To refuse would not only be impolite, but a bad move, professionally. She could only hope Raoul Lanier wasn't included in the invitation.

‘Thank you, I'd like that.'

‘Shall we say six, at our apartment?'

Her cell phone rang, and she reached for it, ascertained the combination of digits displayed in the window, and offered an apologetic smile. ‘I'm sorry, I'll have to take this. If you'll excuse me?' She focused her attention on Adriana. ‘Six, tomorrow evening. I'll look forward to it.' She inclined her head briefly, then she turned and activated the call as she made her way toward the main entrance.

Definitely a latte and sandwich, she decided minutes later, and she ordered, then ate beneath a shade umbrella, opting to check Bruno's lingerie boutique window display whilst in the shopping complex.

It was almost three when she entered the office, and what remained of the afternoon was caught up
with numerous phone calls together with the completion of a lengthy report.

Consequently it was well after five when she collected Emma from the day care center, and the headache that had bothered her most of the day developed sufficiently to warrant medication.

At eight, with Emma safely asleep, she took a leisurely shower, luxuriating in the relaxing jet of warm water as it soothed the kinks from her neck. Rose-scented soap left her skin silky smooth and exuding a delicate fragrance. Toweled dry she added matching dusting powder and pulled on a freshly laundered T-shirt.

Not exactly an ultrafeminine image, she mentally derided as she caught a glance of her mirrored reflection. Not that it mattered one little bit, for there was no man in her life to tease and tantalize with silk and lace.

Nor did she want one, she silently assured as she applied a thin film of night cream to her face, smoothed the excess onto her hands, then switched off the light and crept into bed.

So why did she lay awake haunted by one man's profile? And have her thoughts stray as she imagined how his skin would feel beneath her touch? Would his muscles flex as he sought control? And at what point would he lose it?

He had the look, the touch, she acknowledged, that promised unbridled primitive passion. The skill and intimate knowledge to drive a woman wild.

Thinking just
how
wild was an infinitely danger
ous exercise, for it brought a vivid reminder of her relationship with Ben…a man who had taken his pleasure without consideration for her own. And she, through reticence and naiveté, had enjoyed the closeness and warmth, while longing for more.

Blind trust and immature love, she acknowledged with innate honesty. Had she been older, wiser, in the ways of men, she'd have seen the weakness, the selfishness for what it was. Instead she had made excuses for him and blamed herself for his shortcomings.

Fool.
How long before she would have seen him for what he was? Her pregnancy had been an act of God…and a gastro bug, which destroyed the contraceptive pill's effectiveness at the most crucial part of her cycle.

Emma, dear sweet Emma. Ben's reaction had been so abhorrent, from that moment Emma had become
hers,
solely hers.

With a determination Stephanie barely recognized in herself, she'd left Sydney, family and friends, and relocated to the Gold Coast, carving a niche for herself at what she did best…marketing. She'd worked up until two weeks before Emma's birth, taken a month's maternity leave, then returned to the workforce.

Her mother visited twice a year, and took Emma back to Sydney for a few weeks, and Stephanie returned there for her annual holidays.

For almost four years she'd been happy and content with her life. Until now, when Raoul Lanier had
appeared on the scene, disrupting her carefully chosen lifestyle, attacking her libido, and causing her to long for something that could only bring grief.

The only way out was not to see him again. A silent bubble of laughter rose and died in her throat. How did she do that, when he had involved himself in one of her work assignments? Everywhere she went, he seemed to be
there.
Legitimately, she had to concede.

She closed her eyes then opened them again to stare into the room's darkness.

A week or two, then he'd be gone. Surely she could survive that length of time?

The shrill peal of the phone jerked her instantly into a sitting position, and she reached for the bedside lamp with one hand and the extension receiver with the other.

Her voice was breathless, startled, apprehensive, and she inwardly cursed herself as she checked the time.

‘Did I wake you?' Raoul's voice was deep, and vaguely husky.

She wasn't conscious of holding her breath, until it released in a rush. ‘No.' She clutched the receiver, and mentally counted to three. ‘No, you didn't. What do you want?'

‘You neglected to return my call.'

‘I wasn't aware it was necessary,' she said coolly. ‘Besides, I understand my secretary asked you to call back.'

‘I didn't have the opportunity until now.'

‘It couldn't wait until tomorrow?'

‘Michel requests you fax him an update on estimated marketing and advertising expenses. He wants to check them against the preliminary figures. Have you a pen and paper handy? I'll give you his e-mail address.'

‘Just a minute.' She opened the pedestal drawer and extracted a pad and pen. ‘Okay, what is it?' She wrote it down, then repeated it. ‘I'll get on to it first thing in the morning.'

‘There is just one more thing,' he drawled.

‘And that is?'

‘I'll collect you and Emma at five forty-five tomorrow evening.'

She closed her eyes and opened them again. Why, for one minute, had she thought he might not be included in Bruno's invitation? ‘No. I'll drive to the hotel.'

‘
Sacré bleu,
why must you be so independent?'

‘You're already staying at the Sheraton,' she stated with cool logic. ‘Why collect me?'

‘You would prefer to drive home at night to an empty house with a young child in your care?'

This was too much.
He
was too much! ‘I would
prefer
it if you weren't there at all tomorrow night,' she flung angrily.

‘My presence unsettles you?' Raoul pursued with mocking amusement.

‘You flatter yourself,' she said icily. ‘If there's nothing else you need to discuss, I'd like to go back
to bed. And in future,' she added for good measure, ‘please keep business calls to business hours.'

He laughed, a deep-throated chuckle that incensed her to such a degree she hung up on him.

Insufferable man. She thumped her pillow, snapped off the light, then pulled up the covers and settled down to sleep.

Except sleep was never more distant, and she cursed him to hell and back as the dark hours crept slowly to midnight and beyond.

The insistent peal of the alarm clock brought her sharply awake, and she depressed the button before slipping wearily from the bed.

Feed and dress Emma, feed the cat, take out the trash, make coffee, eat, pack Emma's lunch and fill drink bottles ready for day care…

Stephanie went through the motions automatically, completed essential household chores, then she dressed for work, delivered Emma to the day care center and drove in to the office.

It proved to be a day where anything that could go wrong, did. She needed every organizational skill she possessed to arrange the smooth transition from delivery of stock to television promotion. A company drivers' strike provided a delay while she arranged alternate mode of transport. Wardrobe didn't supply the right size or the right color for the model promoting the product. Phone calls weren't returned, and she had to chase up advertising.

When she left the office at five all she wanted to do was collect Emma, go home, relax and unwind.
Instead she needed to bathe and dress her daughter, grab a quick shower, throw on some clothes, apply makeup…all in the space of twenty-five minutes.

There was a part of her that wanted to ring and cancel, except that would amount to a cop-out, and she was damned if she'd allow Raoul Lanier the satisfaction. She'd attend, and enjoy herself. For Emma's sake, and that of her hosts. The indomitable Frenchman could, she decided, go
jump
for all she cared.

It was nothing short of a miracle that she was ready on time. Elegant evening trousers with matching camisole in a deep ultraviolet highlighted her cream textured skin and emphasized her eyes. Emma wore a pale blue print dress with white shoes and socks. Her very best outfit, Stephanie mused, taking pleasure in her daughter's delightful anticipation of the evening ahead.

From a personal aspect, she hadn't had the opportunity to give it more than a passing thought. Now that they were on the verge of leaving, the prospect of spending yet another few hours in Raoul Lanier's company bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

‘Okay, sweetheart,' she said gently as she collected her keys and evening purse. ‘Let's go.'

They made it to the front door, only to have the bell peal as Stephanie reached to open it, and her heart raced into overdrive at the sight of Raoul Lanier standing on the porch.

‘You shouldn't have come,' she said at once, doing her best to remain polite in Emma's presence.

He spared her a long hard glance. ‘I said I would collect you.'

He was angry, she could tell from the set of his jaw, the slight thickening of his accent. It was becoming a battle of wills—
hers, his
—and for some reason, despite her determination, she felt she was treading shaky ground.