Книга - Married For The Tycoon’s Empire

Married For The Tycoon's Empire
ABBY GREEN


His million dollar bride…Ben Carter’s reputation has been savaged by a shocking press exposé and there’s only one way to save both it and his latest business venture: with a gold ring. In Julianna Ford— daughter of his European rival—Ben’s found the perfect candidate… until she says ‘no’.No one refuses Ben Carter, not least of all this beautiful and beguiling English society princess. So when Julianna auctions one kiss for charity, Ben seizes the chance to win his heiress. He might have paid one million dollars for a kiss, but Ben intends to have so much more…!







His million-dollar bride...

Ben Carter’s reputation has been savaged by a shocking press exposé and there’s only one way to save both it and his latest business venture: with a gold ring. In Julianna Ford—daughter of his European rival—Ben’s found the perfect candidate...until she says no.

No one refuses Ben Carter, not least of all this beautiful and beguiling English society princess. So when Julianna auctions one kiss for charity, Ben seizes the chance to win his heiress. He might have paid one million dollars for a kiss, but Ben intends to have so much more!


Julianna wore an elaborate black lace mask over the top half of her face and it only enhanced her beauty, making her look mysterious. But even the mask couldn’t hide the brilliant blue of her eyes. Or that enticing mouth.

Mine. The word thrummed through Ben’s blood, just as a voice near the front shouted out, ‘Five thousand dollars!’

Something went tight inside Ben as the bidding started to escalate. Ten thousand...fifteen...twenty. There were gasps now, people looking around. And then a booming voice called out, ‘Fifty thousand dollars!’

The auctioneer held his gavel up and asked if anyone wanted to contest this latest bid. No one moved. The thought of that man getting anywhere near Julianna made Ben feel a level of violence he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

The auctioneer brought the gavel down once, twice...

just before he could bring it down again Ben spoke authoritatively into the silence. ‘One million dollars.’

Everyone gasped and turned to look at him. He walked forward, the crowd parting to let him through.

When he was near the dais, he stopped and said, ‘But I want more than a kiss. For a million dollars I want a weekend with Julianna Ford.’


Brides for Billionaires (#uca7863db-ec58-5b72-9a21-53e021ba46e4)

Meet the world’s ultimate unattainable men...

Four titans of industry and power—Benjamin Carter, Dante Mancini, Zayn Al-Ghamdi and Xander Trakas—are in complete control of every aspect of their exclusive world...Until one catastrophic newspaper article forces them to take drastic action!

Now these gorgeous billionaires need one thing: willing women on their arms and wearing their rings! women falling at their feet is normal but these bachelors need the right women to stand by their sides. And for that they need billionaire Matchmaker Elizabeth Young.

This is the opportunity of a lifetime for Elizabeth so she won’t turn down the challenge of finding just the right match for these formidable tycoons. But Elizabeth has a secret that could complicate things for one of the bachelors...

Find out what happens in:

Married for the Tycoon’s Empire by Abby Green

Married for the Italian’s Heir by Rachael Thomas

Married for the Sheikh’s Duty by Tara Pammi

Married for the Greek’s Convenience by Michelle Smart


Married for the Tycoon’s Empire

Abby Green






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Irish author ABBY GREEN threw in a very glamorous career in film and TV—which really consisted of a lot of standing in the rain outside actors’ trailers—to pursue her love of romance. After she’d bombarded Mills & Boon with manuscripts they kindly accepted one, and an author was born. She lives in Dublin, Ireland, and loves any excuse for distraction. Visit abby-green.com (http://www.abby-green.com/) or e-mail abbygreenauthor@gmail.com.

Books by Abby Green

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

Awakened by Her Desert Captor

Forgiven but Not Forgotten?

Exquisite Revenge

One Night with the Enemy

The Legend of De Marco

The Call of the Desert

The Sultan’s Choice

Secrets of the Oasis

In Christofides’ Keeping

One Night With Consequences

An Heir to Make a Marriage

An Heir Fit for a King

The Chatsfield

Delucca’s Marriage Contract

Billionaire Brothers

The Bride Fonseca Needs

Fonseca’s Fury

Blood Brothers

When Falcone’s World Stops Turning

When Christakos Meets His Match

When Da Silva Breaks the Rules

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/) for more titles.


I’d like to dedicate this book to the Mills & Boon authors who inspired me from the very beginning: Susan Napier, Emma Darcy, Robyn Donald, Sara Craven, Helen Bianchin, Penny Jordan, Sally Wentworth, Sara Wood, Kate Proctor and Stacy Absalom whose book Ishbel’s Party is still my touchstone for the high stakes high emotion these books promise. Thank you!


Contents

Cover (#u83542923-70df-5ec6-a0e5-fb3bc2ee5a8b)

Back Cover Text (#u61c1cf58-fc5d-507e-8bc3-120dcc5371c7)

Introduction (#u20f26fdb-d1b6-5b9a-8391-197ac1e5815d)

Brides for Billionaires (#ulink_a4e095ca-21cc-5ada-a826-340c54fb7eb4)

Title Page (#u26499e23-f23f-5884-bcda-0890db19fdad)

About the Author (#u24d25f5b-de55-5428-9b4d-5f88c1f89d8d)

Dedication (#u9a8f328d-1ed9-57b8-8eeb-4c76ec51b03e)

PROLOGUE (#ulink_05426747-a12d-5e0f-93d3-59496ef31459)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_85d277da-bce1-5609-bb66-2c1e6ba1dae8)

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_d203246a-1267-5751-8604-0f9a9477714e)

CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


PROLOGUE (#uca7863db-ec58-5b72-9a21-53e021ba46e4)

BENJAMIN CARTER SAT in a high-backed leather chair in a corner of the private members-only club. The lighting was artfully dim, and the atmosphere was hushed and exclusive. Warm golden lights and flickering candles added to the sense of rarefied privacy. Cigar smoke curled into the air from another dark corner, adding an exotic aroma and diffusing the light.

The club promised absolute discretion, which was specifically why he’d chosen it. And now Ben looked, one by one, at each of the other three men who had joined him at his table. At his request.

Sheikh Zayn Al-Ghamdi—the ruler of a desert kingdom rich in oil and minerals, whose wealth was astonishing and control absolute.

Dante Mancini—an Italian renewable energies mogul whose charming, handsome exterior hid a rapier-sharp intellect, business acumen and a sarcastic tongue that could strip paint from a wall—as Ben had discovered during one particularly acrimonious deal years before. Right now he wasn’t exuding charm; he was glowering darkly in Ben’s direction.

And, last but not least, Xander Trakas—the Greek billionaire CEO of a global luxury goods conglomerate. He was cool and aloof, with strong features that gave nothing away. Ben had once told him grudgingly that he should play poker if he ever lost his vast fortune and needed to win it back. Which was about as likely as a snowstorm in hell.

Ben might not rule over a desert kingdom, or half of Europe, but he ruled over Manhattan with his towering cranes and the deep pits he forged out of the ground in order to build new and impossibly ambitious buildings.

The tension around the table was palpable. These men had been his nemeses for so long—and each other’s—that it was truly surreal to be sitting here now. What had started out as minor infractions during various deals over the years had escalated into entrenched warfare, with each recognising in the others formidable adversaries to be defeated and vanquished. The only problem being that each one was as successfully ruthless and stubborn as the other, so all they’d ever achieved was a series of tense stalemates.

Ben sensed that Dante Mancini in particular was about ready to bolt, so he sat forward. It was time to talk.

‘Thank you all for coming here.’

Sheikh Zayn Al-Ghamdi’s dark eyes were hard. ‘I don’t appreciate being summoned like a recalcitrant child, Carter.’

‘And yet,’ Ben pointed out, ‘you’re here.’ He looked around. ‘You all are.’

Dante Mancini drawled, ‘And the prize for stating the obvious goes to Benjamin Carter.’ He lifted his heavy crystal glass in Ben’s direction and the dark liquid inside shimmered with golden opulence, reflecting the decadent luxury of the club around them. He downed his drink in one and simultaneously gestured for the waiter. He caught Ben’s look. ‘Tempted to drink something stronger than water, Carter?’

Ben fought down the urge to rise to Dante’s jibe. He was the only one of them not indulging in the finest single malt whisky one could buy outside of Ireland and Scotland.

He looked pointedly at the others. ‘Gentlemen, as fun as it’s been over the last decade, squaring up to each of you, I think you’ll agree that the time has come for us to stop giving the press an excuse to pit us against each other.’

Xander Trakas looked from Ben to the other men and sighed. ‘He’s right. The press have targeted us all, one by one, and what started out as a few salacious gossipy pieces in that rag Celebrity Spy! have turned into something much more serious. While I believe we’re responsible for the stories that end up in those rags due to our own lax PR, I draw the line at spurious claims of excessive partying, revolving bedroom doors and, most damaging of all, conspicuous absences at the office.’

The Greek tycoon’s face hardened with displeasure. ‘The fact that I’ve been pulling all-nighters in the office when they say I’m out partying is infuriating. I lost out on a lucrative contract last week because of doubts about my competence. It’s gone too far.’

Dante Mancini made a sound of grudging agreement. ‘I’m about to lose out on a deal because they want someone with “family values”—whatever that is.’ He took a healthy sip of his refreshed drink.

The fact that Dante Mancini and Xander Trakas were still here and agreeing with each other told Ben more effectively than anything that he’d done the right thing in asking them here this evening—and also that they had a very real threat on their hands.

He said, ‘We’re being reduced to caricatures, and these exaggerations of our private exploits are becoming too damaging to ignore. I can handle walking onto my construction sites and having my men rib me about a kiss and tell, but when gossip and innuendo starts to affect share prices and my professional reputation that’s unacceptable.’

Trakas looked at him and there was an unmistakable gleam of mockery in his eyes. ‘You’re not trying to imply that your ex-lover made it all up, Carter, are you?’

Memories of lurid headlines—The hard man of construction is just as hard in bed!—made Ben snap back, ‘Her story was as real as your infamous little black book that divulges the names and numbers of most of the world’s most beautiful women. What was it they said, Trakas? Still waters run deep?’

Trakas scowled and Mancini scoffed, ‘As if Trakas has the monopoly on the most beautiful women. Everyone knows that I—’

A cool voice cut them off, ‘If we’re quite finished with the dissing contest, perhaps we can discuss how to get ourselves out of this mess. I agree with Carter: it’s gone too far. This adverse attention is not only affecting confidence in my leadership, but also my business concerns. It’s even affecting my little sister’s chances of the marriage she wants, and that is unacceptable.’

They all looked at Sheikh Zayn Al-Ghamdi, who had sat forward. The dim lighting made the lines of his boldly handsome face stand out harshly. They were all dressed in classic black tuxedos except for Mancini, who was bucking the trend in a white jacket with his bow tie rakishly undone.

It reminded Ben of the function they’d just come from and he said grimly, ‘It’s not just our business concerns...or our families.’

Mancini sat forward too, frowning. ‘What do you mean?’

Ben glanced at him, and at the others. ‘The director of the charity came to me this evening and told me that if this media furore doesn’t disappear she’ll have to remove us all as patrons. She’s noticed an adverse effect, with less tickets sold and people not showing up.’

Dante Mancini cursed colourfully in Italian.

The Sheikh said ruminatively, ‘So that’s why you asked us to come and meet you?’

Ben nodded. ‘I think we can all agree that the last thing we want is for the charity to suffer because of us.’

The charity in question was the only thing that linked them all, outside of pitting their wits against each other during business deals, and its function was the only time of year when they were all in the same room at the same time, which invariably caused much media interest.

The Hope Foundation focused on giving funds to young kids—girls and boys who were from disadvantaged backgrounds and showed an aptitude for business and enterprise.

Dante said now, ‘Carter’s right. We can’t bring the charity into this mess.’

For the first time Ben had to recognise a sense of kinship. They all genuinely cared about the same thing, and it was slightly disconcerting when he’d depended solely on himself for so long. It wasn’t entirely unwelcome—almost as if a burden had suddenly been lightened.

And then Sheikh Zayn’s cool voice said, ‘So what the hell is the solution?’

Ben looked at him, and glanced at the others. ‘I’m guessing that, like me, you’ve consulted with your legal teams and realised that it isn’t worth the added publicity to sue Celebrity Spy!?’

They all nodded.

Ben went on, his voice as grim as the faces around him. ‘Issuing a statement will also get us nowhere; we’ve gone beyond that point. If we do that it’ll look like we’re backtracking, trying to defend ourselves.’ He sighed volubly. ‘The only solution is for us to be seen to be cleaning up our acts—comprehensively and for the long term. Unless we do, I don’t think it’s going to go away. If anything, they’ll only start to dig deeper, and I can assure you that I for one have no desire to invite further scrutiny.’

Dante’s gaze narrowed on Ben. ‘You don’t want people being reminded that your rags to riches story isn’t entirely accurate?’

Ben’s whole body tensed and he glared at the man. ‘I’ve never hidden my origins, Mancini. Let’s just say I’ve no desire to have old history raked over again. Just as I’m sure you’d prefer not to invite a spotlight onto your own family background?’

Ben was referring to the way Dante was so zealous about guarding his family’s privacy—which could only mean he had something to hide.

After a tense moment the ghost of a hard smile touched Dante’s mouth and he lifted his almost empty glass in the air. ‘Touché, Carter.’

Sheikh Zayn interrupted tautly, ‘I think we can all appreciate not wanting to attract even more attention, for whatever reasons we may have.’

Ben was aware of Xander Trakas shifting uncomfortably to his right, evidently ruminating on the skeletons in his own closet.

A brooding silence descended on the group for a moment and then the Sheikh said with a grimace, ‘I agree with Carter that cleaning up our personal lives seems to be the only viable solution. As much as I’ve tried to avoid it, I know the only thing that will restore my people’s faith in me will be a strategic marriage and producing an heir to the throne.’

Ben was aware of the collective shudder that seemed to go through all of them. With the utmost reluctance, he had to admit, ‘After discussions with my PR advisor and my solicitor, I’ve come to a similar conclusion.’

Dante said, with evident horror, ‘Marriage? Do we really need to take such drastic action?’

Ben looked at him. ‘Even I can see the benefit in marrying someone suitable. It will restore confidence and get the press off our backs. It’ll also restore trust. I’ve found myself in numerous social situations where clients’ wives have made their interest all too obvious, much to the anger of their spouses. It’s only a matter of time before a deal falls through because of petty jealousy—or, worse, the belief that something happened.’ Ben looked around the other men. ‘We’re being seen as threats, in more ways than one. And that’s not good.’

Dante’s irritation was obvious. ‘You said someone suitable—what is suitable? Is there such a woman?’

Sheikh Zayn answered, with all the confidence of a man who came from a society where arranged marriages were commonplace. ‘Of course there is. A woman who is happy to complement your life...a woman who will be discreet and loyal above all.’

Dante raised a brow. ‘So, genius, where do we find this paragon of virtue?’

For a moment there was silence, and Ben tensed again, suspecting that Dante Mancini had gone too far. Sheikh Zayn was a head of state, and used to far more reverential exchanges.

But then the Sheikh threw his head back and laughed, long and hard. When he looked at them all again he said, ‘Do you know how refreshing it is when someone speaks to me like this?’

The tension that had been pulled taut between them ever since they’d all sat down seemed to relax perceptibly.

Dante smiled and gestured with his glass towards the Sheikh. ‘If you would finally agree to discuss alternative energies with me, I’ll disrespect you as much as you want.’

Sheikh Zayn’s eyes flashed with rare humour. ‘Now, that is an offer I could consider.’

Ben cut in. ‘As warm and fuzzy as this cessation in hostilities is, we need to focus on the fact that we’ve agreed that promoting a more settled front is the way to deal with this situation. And for that we need to find women who are happy to marry us quickly and conveniently. As Sheikh Zayn said, women we can trust, who will be discreet. Loyal.’

Dante Mancini’s smile faded and he said darkly, ‘You’d have more luck finding a leprechaun riding a unicorn down Fifth Avenue.’

They contemplated that silently for a few seconds, and then Xander Trakas said quietly, ‘I know someone.’

They all looked at the man who, Ben realised, had been suspiciously quiet up till now. ‘Who?’ he asked, intrigued.

‘A woman. She runs a very discreet dating agency aimed specifically at people like us. She knows our world inside out—’

‘Who is she to you?’ cut in Dante. ‘An ex-lover?’

Xander glared at him, not looking so aloof now. ‘That’s none of your business, Mancini. Just trust me when I say that if anyone can set us up with the right women, she can.’

The Italian mogul held up a hand. ‘Fine—keep your pants on.’

Ben, who’d been absorbing all this, looked to Sheikh Zayn. ‘Well?’

The Sheikh looked as if he’d prefer to sign up to a knitting class, but he finally said heavily, ‘I think it might be the best option... If we’re doing this, time is of the essence—for all of us.’ He punctuated that with an expressive look at each of them.

Dante eventually said, with palpable reluctance, ‘Fine. I’ll take her details but I’m not promising anything.’

Ben held out his phone to Xander Trakas and tried to ignore the sensation of his collar tightening around his neck. ‘Put her number in there. I’ll call her next week.’

As Xander added the contact details to Ben’s phone Sheikh Zayn sat forward and said, with another glimmer of wry humour, ‘Do you know, I’ve actually forgotten what it was that set us off against each other in the first place...?’

Ben quirked a rueful smile. ‘I think we have to admit that perhaps we liked being adversaries too much to give it up.’

Xander put Ben’s phone down on the table. He held up his glass. ‘Well, then, maybe it’s time to concede a mutual defeat for the benefit of a bigger victory. Restoring faith in our reputations, which in turn will restore confidence in our businesses and profit margins. Because, as we all know, that’s what’s most important.’

Dante Mancini lifted his glass and drawled, ‘Hear, hear. To the start of a beautiful friendship, gentlemen.’

Ben looked around at each of the men and thought that in spite of the slightly mocking tone of Mancini’s words something had shifted here tonight. These men were not foes any more. They were allies and, yes, possibly even friends.

Ben raised his glass to join the others. Nothing was going to get in their way now. Not even the women they would take as their convenient wives.


CHAPTER ONE (#uca7863db-ec58-5b72-9a21-53e021ba46e4)

BEN CARTER STOOD near the main window in his office, with its impressive views over downtown Manhattan. The thing that usually pleased him most when he took in this view was seeing his construction cranes high in the sky, dotted around the island. Right now, though, he had his back to the view and every line of his body was in defence mode, from his crossed arms to his tense stance.

‘So, I think that about covers it.’

He bit back the urge to ask snarkily if she wanted to know what colour underwear he was wearing today.

The woman seated by his desk glanced at him and observed wryly, ‘You don’t like answering personal questions, do you?’

Ben bared his teeth in a forced smile. ‘Whatever gave you that impression?’

Elizabeth Young, the matchmaker, shrugged nonchalantly as she tapped something into her palm tablet. ‘I think the fact that you look about ready to jump out of the window gives it away.’

Ben scowled and walked back over to his desk. With every question she’d asked—from innocuous ones like, What’s your favourite holiday destination? to more edgy ones like What is it you want from a relationship?—he’d put more and more space between them. As much as he recognised his need for a convenient wife, the quantum leap from a life of no-strings encounters with beautiful women to a committed relationship—albeit for convenience’s sake—was making Ben’s skin prickle uncomfortably.

After witnessing the collapse of his parents’ marriage, which had fallen like a deck of cards at the first sign of trouble, Ben had never entertained notions of domestic bliss.

The matchmaker was right: if he could have jumped from the window he might just have tried it.

He scowled harder as he sat down—who the hell’s idea had this been again? Xander Trakas. Recalling the Greek man’s reaction that night, when Mancini had asked if this woman was an ex-lover, made Ben assess the slim and elegant blonde on the other side of his desk.

Hair that looked as if it tended towards being curly was tied back in a low bun. She was casually dressed, yet smart, in tailored trousers and a loose unstructured top under a fitted soft leather jacket. She oozed elegant style and, he had to admit, discretion and professionalism. Xander had been right.

As she looked at him now, he noticed that her eyes were an unusual shade of amber. Ben waited a beat to see if he had any reaction to her on a physical level. Nothing. He told himself that was good—the last thing he needed now was the distraction of someone he actually desired. Which brought him neatly back to why she was here.

He said, ‘So, now that you’ve mined my soul for every tiny detail, who do you suggest is my best prospect for a partner?’

He saw the unmistakable flash of cynicism in her eyes, and a small smile tipped up her mouth at one side.

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I’m under no illusions. I know that you’ve told me only as much as you want to reveal. I know men like you, Mr Carter, that’s why I’m good at my job.’

Ben decided to ignore the urge to ask exactly what she meant about knowing men like him. If it helped him to achieve what he needed to survive this crisis then what of it? He steepled his hands under his chin and admitted to a grudging respect for the way she wasn’t intimidated by him, as so many were.

‘Xander Trakas recommended you.’

And just like that this woman’s composure slipped slightly, just as Xander’s had that night in the bar, almost a week ago. She wasn’t so sanguine now.

She avoided Ben’s eye, fussing with the tablet. ‘I have lots of connections, he’s just one of them.’

Ben was intrigued by the button he’d obviously just pushed, but not intrigued enough to lose sight of his own goal. He became businesslike and sat forward again. ‘Forget I mentioned it. So, do you have anyone specific in mind?’

She turned her tablet around to face him, laying it flat on the desk, and pushed it towards him. ‘There are some possibilities here. Look through them and see if anyone piques your interest.’

Ben took the tablet and did as she had bid, scrolling through the pictures of women along with a few lines of their bios. They were all stunning in their own ways, and obviously accomplished. He scrolled past a human rights lawyer, the CEO of a software company, a UN interpreter, a supermodel...but none of them jumped out at him. He was about to hand the device back when one last woman appeared on the screen and something inside him went very still.

He didn’t even look at her bio. He was transfixed by her. In the picture her shoulder-length dark brown hair was being blown around her shoulders and face by a breeze and she was laughing into the camera, revealing two dimples. She had high cheekbones and a lush mouth. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d noticed dimples on a woman. Dark blue eyes, long-lashed. She was innocent and sensual all at once. And exquisitely, vibrantly beautiful.

For a second Ben found it hard to breathe. He also had a sense that she was somehow familiar.

Elizabeth obviously sensed his interest. ‘Ah, that’s Julianna Ford. Stunning, isn’t she? She’s British, and based in London, so that could prove a bit of a challenge, but as luck would have it she’s actually in New York this week for a charity benefit.’

Ben frowned sharply and looked up. ‘Ford? As in Louis Ford’s daughter?’

Elizabeth cocked her head. ‘Do you know her?’

He glanced at her picture again before pushing the tablet back towards Elizabeth. ‘I know of her. I met with her father a few years ago. I tried to persuade him to sell his business to me. He spoke of her, and I saw her pictures around his house, but she wasn’t there at the time.’

Ben struggled to remember. She’d been away on holiday...skiing? Whatever her father had said about her, it had reinforced the impression he’d formed of her at the time: she was the spoiled and pampered only daughter of a doting billionaire father.

Ben had experienced that scene while in London, where the rich partied alongside royalty and to excess. He’d hated it. It had been a forcible reminder of the fact that if his father hadn’t been so corrupt Ben would have still been part of that world too. Still living a blinkered life, blind to harsh reality. The harsh reality that had reshaped him into the man he was today. Answerable to no one and with his astronomical success bedded so firmly into the earth that he would never suffer the same fate as his parents—being at the mercy of volatile markets with no solid investments to speak of.

Ben diverted his mind from old and painful memories and focused on the matchmaker. And the future. Not the past. What she was handing him here was an opportunity not to be missed. The Ford construction company, with its solid black font signage against a dark green background, was a ubiquitous sight on construction hoardings in Britain.

Ben knew what a coup it would be to gain a foothold in Europe by acquiring one of its most respected companies—which was why he’d gone after it once before. Louis Ford had resisted his advances then, in spite of his rumoured ill health, but Ben had been keeping an eye on him ever since, and he realised now that Ford had gone quiet in recent months. Very quiet.

And now the man’s daughter was here. Looking for a date.

Suddenly Ben realised that Julianna Ford represented the solution to all his problems. If he was to take the drastic step of committing to one woman for the sake of his reputation and business, then why not pursue a marriage that came with solid potential for business expansion? If she agreed to marry him Ben’s empire would extend into Europe and he would have reached the very pinnacle of everything he’d set out to achieve. All with a stunningly beautiful wife by his side.

He looked at Elizabeth and a sense of delicious anticipation coiled through his gut. He said, ‘She’s the one I want to meet. You can set up the date.’

* * *

Lia Ford was trying to curb her mounting anger, but it was hard. Her stiletto heels clacked sharply along the wide Manhattan pavement, as if to underscore her volatile mood.

First she was angry with her father for his meddling ways, even if his heart was in the right place. And then she was angry with her father’s secretary, for following her father’s instructions to give all of Lia’s information to Leviathan Solutions. She was even angry about the photo that had been given to the agency—one her father had taken, catching Lia off-guard during a happy sailing trip. A far too personal memento for a dating website!

As the Leviathan agency’s global operations were based in New York, Lia had gone to Elizabeth Young’s Manhattan office earlier that day, as soon as she’d found out—thanks to her father presenting it to her as a fait accompli over the phone. ‘See, my darling? I’ve done it all for you! Now all you have to do is meet some nice young man!’ Lia had been ready to demand that all her details be removed...only to be informed that someone had already signalled his interest in dating her.

And Elizabeth Young had surprised Lia. She’d been expecting... Actually, she hadn’t been sure what she’d been expecting of a billionaire matchmaker, but it hadn’t been a beautiful young woman of around her own age, whose style reflected Lia’s preferred classic relaxed elegance. Elizabeth Young had also personified professional discretion, which Lia had responded to in spite of herself.

And somehow, while acknowledging Lia’s reluctance to accept the date, Elizabeth had somehow skilfully managed to persuade her to give this one date a chance. And then she’d shown Lia a picture of the man in question.

It had taken Lia a few long seconds to look past the piercing blue eyes and the boldly handsome and very masculine features. With his thick dark hair, he oozed sexy confidence and virility. Exactly the kind of man that Lia instinctively shied away from—because a personality like that brought up all her most secret vulnerabilities. And a reminder of another too confident personality who’d had no time for Lia’s innate shyness—her mother, who had walked out on Lia and her father when Lia was just ten years old.

And yet she’d felt a disconcerting flutter of very feminine awareness at the man’s sheer masculinity. It was most unwelcome. She wasn’t interested in dating. She’d tried to please her father before—even going so far as to consider marriage, becoming engaged—but that had ended in abject humiliation when she’d surprised her fiancé in his office one day and found him with his face buried between his secretary’s spread legs as she’d lain back across his desk, moaning loudly, her hands locked in his hair.

‘You’re frigid, Lia,’ he’d hurled at her afterwards. ‘I can’t marry a woman who doesn’t like sex!’

That experience had only reinforced her insecurities, and she’d vowed since then to focus on her career and prove to her father that she could stand on her own two feet. Unfortunately his habitual ill health meant that she’d spent more time shoring up the family business than focusing on her own ambitions...

Elizabeth Young had brought Lia back to the present with a bump, though, when she’d revealed who the mysterious man was and recognition of his name had made Lia’s gaze narrow on the woman on the opposite side of the desk. ‘Benjamin Carter? As in Carter Construction?’

Elizabeth Young had nodded. ‘Yes, he said he knew of you, actually, even though he’s never met you. He had some business with your father a while ago?’

Every protective hackle inside Lia had risen. It had been a couple of years ago when Benjamin Carter had come to the UK and tried to take over Ford Construction. Her family business. Her father had rebuffed Carter and his very generous offer, but his health, which had always been weak, and particularly weakened at that time, thanks to a nasty bout of pneumonia, had worsened.

If she’d met Benjamin Carter then she would have told him where to go and saved her father that relapse. Louis Ford was so proud, though, that he would have died before he’d let anyone see how frail he really was. Especially someone like the American construction mogul whom her father had described as ‘formidable’.

And now Benjamin Carter wanted to meet her for a date? If this was mere coincidence then she was the Sugar Plum Fairy.

Lia stopped at a pedestrian crossing and forced herself to regulate her breath. She knew she could have just called the date off—instructed Elizabeth Young to inform Benjamin Carter that she wasn’t available for any dates while she was in New York as she didn’t live there—but she’d felt the compelling urge to inform the man emphatically and in person that there would be no route for him to get to her father. And certainly not through her.

On the other side of the street the majestic beaux arts Algonquin Hotel soared into the sky. They were due to meet in the darkly seductive Algonquin bar. And now all she could seem to think of was his boldly handsome features and those blue eyes. She found herself feeling slightly breathless, wondering how tall he would be. How big.

The pedestrian lights said Walk and Lia stepped into the road, assuring herself fiercely that Benjamin Carter would undoubtedly prove to be a disappointment in the flesh, as so many public figures did. Not, she hurriedly assured herself, that she was going to be hanging around long enough to check him out. No, she was going to waste no time informing him that—

Smack!

Lia’s thoughts were scattered to pieces as she ran into a brick wall just outside the hotel. Gasping for air, she looked up to find that this particular brick wall was actually a very tall human. And very male. And very broad. With piercing blue eyes.

So not a wall at all. Dimly she registered that Benjamin Carter wasn’t a disappointment in the flesh. Far from it. He was...more. He smiled, and she noticed the sculpted sensuality of his lips.

‘I’m sorry, I hadn’t planned on a collision as our introduction. I saw you crossing the street and recognised you from your photo, so I thought I’d wait for you. Are you okay?’

His voice was rich and deep enough to impact on her on a physical level. Lia felt a bit stupid, and put it down to the momentary shock and lack of breath. She nodded and managed to get out, ‘Fine...just fine.’

She’d been so preoccupied with meeting him that she’d walked right into him. She realised then that her hands were wrapped around his arms to steady herself, obviously having landed there instinctively. She could feel hard biceps, even through the material of his overcoat, and she snatched her hands back as if they were burning.

He looked at her for a long moment and then stood back, indicating with a hand. ‘Please—ladies first.’

Irritated that the wind had been knocked out of her—literally—Lia had no choice but to proceed to the front door, where a doorman was waiting, holding the door open, tipping his hat to her as she entered.

She heard him say to the man behind her, ‘Welcome back, Mr Carter.’

‘Thank you, Tom, always a pleasure.’

Lia felt like scowling at his smooth delivery, even though she had to acknowledge that her first cataclysmic encounter with the man didn’t make her think of smooth at all. It had brought to mind lots of things—none of which were smooth. Big, powerful, strong. Immovable. That was what came to mind.

He was behind her now and she could smell his scent—as masculine as he was, and evocative more than overpowering.

The maître d’ came forward to greet them at the entrance to the dark and lushly decorated bar, clicking his fingers for a staff member to come and divest them of their coats. Lia wanted to protest that she wasn’t staying long, but before she could speak their coats had expertly been taken and she was being led further into the seductive space, to an intimate table for two at the back.

Giving in to the inevitability of at least explaining herself to this man, she slid into the velvet banquette seat at the wall and watched as Benjamin Carter folded his tall frame into a seat opposite her. She sucked in as much oxygen as she could, desperately hoping that her sense of equilibrium would return after the shock of that impact.

Now his coat was gone she saw that he wore a three-piece suit. Dark grey tie. She also recognised with a disturbing flash of heat, that in spite of his very suave exterior there was an unmistakable edge of something dangerous and uncivilised about the man. It was in the way his muscles pushed against the fabric of his jacket. As if he was more warrior than urbane businessman.

That realisation sent a shard of panic to her gut, and with a rush Lia started to speak. ‘Look, Mr Carter—’

The words dried up when he held out his hand and smiled, drawing her gaze helplessly to his mouth. A full lower lip and a slightly thinner upper lip—diminishing any prettiness and giving him that sensual edge that made her aware of him in a way that no man had ever made her feel before. Certainly not her ex-fiancé.

‘Forgive me. I never introduced myself properly, I’m Benjamin Carter.’

A lifetime of manners being drummed into her by her father and strict boarding schools couldn’t let her ignore his hand. She reached out, intending it to be a sterile and quick transaction, but the first thing that registered when his hand encompassed hers was a surprising roughness, which only reinforced her impression of him being less civilised than he looked.

She felt a pulse throb between her legs...her intimate flesh reacting to his touch. It was so powerful that she pressed her thighs together, and her fingers tightened reflexively around his in reaction as she said faintly, ‘I’m Julianna—Julianna Ford.’

* * *

As slim, feminine fingers tightened around his all Ben could think about was how it would feel when other, more intimate muscles would tighten around a more sensitive part of his anatomy. He’d never had such an immediately carnal response to a woman, but the feel of her slimly curvaceous body colliding with his outside the hotel had had an impact he couldn’t ignore.

He’d seen her from across the street, an intent look on her face, a small frown between her eyes. And then, as her long legs had closed the distance between them, he’d been too mesmerised by her graceful movements to budge an inch.

And then she’d cannoned straight into him.

The lush imprint of her soft breasts against his chest was still vivid. As soon as their bodies had collided lust had hit him like an injection of adrenalin to his heart. And it hadn’t been one-sided; he’d seen the effect on her too. Those widening shocked eyes. Her cheeks flooding with colour. Her hands tightening around his arms. She was tall enough for him to have just dipped his head down slightly to claim that provocative mouth, if he’d so wished.

And now he was drowning in dark blue eyes, glossy dark brown hair, pale ivory skin and that mouth, so sweetly curved it was all he could do not to sweep the table to one side and devour her right here.

She was stunning. Exquisite.

And she was pulling her hand back from his now with a little tug. He let her go, reluctantly.

A waiter came to take their drinks order. Julianna appeared flustered for a moment, and then quickly ordered a bourbon on the rocks. Ben ordered a soda water.

When they were alone again Ben dragged his mind out of the carnal gutter and said, ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.’

She looked at him and his blood surged south and his flesh hardened. Ben cursed the rush of rogue hormones. It wasn’t even as if she was wearing anything overtly provocative. A pale silk shirt that was buttoned to her throat and a dark pencil skirt. Discreet make-up and jewellery. High heels. Classic. Elegant. But as far as his libido was concerned she might as well be naked.

‘Look—’ she said, but was cut off when the waiter returned with their drinks, setting them down.

Ben noticed that she took a swift sip of the amber liquid before putting the glass down again.

She appeared edgy all of a sudden, and he made allowances for the fact that she was nervous, saying, ‘I believe you’re only here for a week? You’re based in London?’

She swallowed and his eyes followed the movement. Even that small movement was graceful. Her refined elegance was impacting upon him somewhere deep. And it surprised him. He’d long ago rejected the cool upper-class beauties who thronged around him—drawn by the hard shell he knew he wore, hewn over years of hard graft as he’d remoulded himself into something much more durable. He knew they were attracted to the rough edges he’d acquired. They didn’t want to know he’d once been one of them. They only wanted the thrill of thinking they were with someone vaguely dangerous. Rough. Someone whose industry was gritty. Base.

He took pleasure in rejecting them because he rejected that world—and yet here he was, sitting mere inches away from a woman who could put all those other society bitches in the shade with a mere arching of her elegant brow. And his blood was pumping so hard and so hot he could hardly think straight.

She looked at him and dark tendrils of hair trailed over her shoulders like silk. ‘I...yes, I’m based in London. So, to be perfectly honest, I think this date is pretty redundant.’

It took a second for her cut-glass English accent to sink in—and her words. And then they did...along with the very cool expression on her face.

Ben blinked. ‘So why agree to a date if it’s redundant?’

Her gaze narrowed and she took a deep breath, and despite the sudden chill in the air Ben’s gaze helplessly dropped down to take in the press of those luscious breasts against the thin silk of her blouse.

‘Because I wanted to meet you face to face and tell you that I know you met my father before, when you tried to take him over.’

Ben’s gaze snapped back to her dark blue one. The heat in his blood simmered, not diminishing under the positively frosty vibes she was sending his way now. He hid his surprise that she’d registered the connection and shrugged nonchalantly. ‘It’s a small world.’

She sounded bitter. ‘Evidently too small.’ She took another sip of her drink, her fingers pale around the heavy glass.

Ben tensed. ‘What exactly are you saying?’

Now she looked almost angry, with two spots of colour coming into her pale cheeks. ‘What I’m saying, Mr Carter—’ she put heavy emphasis on his name, as if he might still be under any illusion that things weren’t deteriorating rapidly ‘—is that, based on your previous history with my father, you can’t seriously expect me to believe that this date is pure coincidence?’

Ben thought of how mesmerised he’d been by that photo of her and felt exposed. Her cynicism shouldn’t have surprised him, but somehow it did. He was on high alert now. Carefully, he said, ‘I can’t say that it’s pure coincidence, no. I am aware of who you are—who your father is.’

She smiled, but it was hard. ‘And so you saw an opportunity and grabbed it?’

Ben forced a smile too, in some kind of an effort to try and relieve the tension. ‘Evidently you joined the Leviathan agency because you’re interested in dating, I would have thought the fact that we have something in common is a good conversation-starter.’

Julianna’s eyes glittered like dark sapphire jewels. ‘Well,’ she said coolly, ‘I’m afraid I have no interest in starting any kind of conversation with you, Mr Carter. I came here merely to inform you of that, in case you’d be left in any doubt.’

With that, she downed the rest of her drink in one go and gathered up her bag, which was on the seat beside her.

She stood up and looked down at him. ‘And as for my father—his position has not changed, so I suggest you seek your opportunities elsewhere. Thank you for the drink, Mr Carter, I’ll see myself out.’

Before Ben could fully process what was happening she was hitching her bag strap onto her shoulder and walking away from the table.

Ben finally stood up, his reflexes dulled, thanks to shock, and was just in time to see the anxious-looking maître d’ helping her with her overcoat. Then she was walking out of the bar without a backward glance.

Ben looked at his watch incredulously. The date had lasted less than fifteen minutes.

He sat down again, her haughty accent reverberating in his head. ‘I suggest you seek your opportunities elsewhere.’ If it wasn’t so disturbing it would be funny, but the fact was that her father had been the furthest thing from his mind until she’d brought him up.

Julianna Ford, with her glacial dark blue eyes and her upper crust accent, had just pulled the rug out from under Ben’s feet. And it was only now that he fully registered that last look she’d sent him—disdainful and dismissive. As if he wasn’t fit to clean her shoes.

Ben signalled for the bill. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that and, even though he knew he should be writing Julianna Ford off as a spoilt rich bitch, his blood still ran hot. Hot with lingering lust, and hot with irritation that she’d lodged herself so neatly under his skin so quickly.

To say this date had morphed into something out of all expectations was an understatement.

Ben was grim as he walked out just seconds later. No one took him by surprise—certainly not a woman. And definitely not a woman he wanted.

* * *

Lia was still trembling from an overload of adrenalin as the yellow cab took her to her Central Park hotel. And her head felt light with the effects of the alcohol she’d drunk too quickly. It had provided the Dutch courage she’d needed, though, to say what she’d had to say to the most intimidating man she’d ever met.

Even now she could picture him lounging on the other side of the table, all sleek hard muscle and broad shoulders, sheathed in that suit that had done nothing to disguise his crackling virile energy. That sexy smile playing around his mouth.

She couldn’t really believe she’d found the wherewithal to stand and look down at him and deliver those parting words, or that she’d managed to walk out on rubbery legs. She’d been terrified they’d buckle underneath her before she could make it to the door.

She knew she could project an icy veneer of confidence when she needed to—it was a skill she’d honed after her mother had left, when Lia had overheard her saying cuttingly, ‘Of course I’m not taking Lia with me. What can I do with a child who stutters and stammers and blushes every time someone looks at her?’

Even now, all these years later, Lia still felt the faint burn of shame mixed with humiliation. Her father’s subsequent over-lavishing of attention and love upon her hadn’t been able to remove the scar of that rejection, but Lia had never stuttered or stammered again from that day on. The blushing, though... She put a hand to her cheek and it felt hot. Seemingly she still had little control over that.

At least Benjamin Carter had stayed in his seat. The thought of having to say those words to him if he’d uncoiled to his full intimidating height made her throat go dry.

She might—hopefully—have convinced him that he was less interesting than the fungus growing under a rock, but her throbbing pulse told her that he was far from uninteresting to her. And, as successfully as she might have delivered her put-down, that was the real reason why she’d all but run from the hotel, stumbling to a stop outside in the cool autumn air, gulping for breath as if she’d just run a marathon, her heart still pounding.

Thankfully the doorman had hailed her a cab straight away and they were pulling up outside her hotel now. Lia paid and tried not to run into the hotel, feeling irrationally as if a large hand might land on her shoulder at any moment.

The fact that the whole encounter with the construction mogul had veered way out of her control was not something she was going to dwell on. If she had had any tiny doubt that his request to meet her had been entirely innocent, it had been blasted apart by his poker-faced reaction when she’d told him she knew who he was and about his previous encounter with her father. He’d been unapologetic, that incisive gaze reading her reaction like a hawk.

So she was glad she’d gone there and met him. She’d done what she’d set out to do, leaving him in no doubt as to what she thought of any plan he might have to pursue her father.

Or her.

Lia ignored the weirdly hollow feeling in her belly and stepped into a blessedly empty lift. And as for her very unwelcome physical reaction...? The way she still felt jittery, as if her skin was too tight, too hot...? That was just the lingering after-effects of adrenalin.

A sense of futility rose up inside her, a hint of remembered humiliation. After all, she was frigid, wasn’t she? She’d been told that in no uncertain language by the only man she’d ever slept with. And she had the memories of how her body had failed miserably to respond to his lovemaking to back it up. So he must be right.

The lift doors opened and Lia stepped out into the plushly carpeted corridor. As she let herself into her room she ruthlessly pushed down a very alien sense of something that felt awfully like...yearning.

* * *

Ben was back in his vast loft-style apartment a short time later. Sirens pierced the air from far below in the vibrant Meatpacking District, but he was oblivious. Pacing the floor. He’d taken off his jacket and tie, feeling constricted. His head was still full of Julianna Ford, and her cooler than cool aristocratic beauty. The memory of that haughty accent and the way she’d so icily dismissed him made him want to see her come undone, hear her voice hoarse from screaming his name.

Dammit. Since when had he grown such an active imagination?

But something else niggled at him—her hostility, and her immediate leaping to the conclusion that his motivation to date her had something to do with her father. Ben’s conscience niggled, but he pushed it down—he hadn’t tried to pretend to Julianna that he was unaware of who she was. He just hadn’t mentioned it up front.

He thought again of how absent her father had been from view in the last few months and Julianna Ford’s actions took on a much more intriguing light. She’d been...protective—and why would she feel the need to be protective unless her father was ill...weak?

Just then his phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out, scowling when he saw the name Elizabeth Young on the screen.

When he answered she spoke straight away, sounding disapproving, ‘I don’t know what happened between you and Julianna Ford but she’s instructed me that she doesn’t want to meet with you again and to take her profile out of my portfolio.’

That made Ben feel simultaneously annoyed at the confirmation that she didn’t want to see him again, and pleased that she obviously wasn’t eager for a date with any other man. Also, it confirmed his suspicion that she had something to hide...some vulnerability. Because she perceived him to be a threat.

The unmistakable instinct to take up a challenge coursed through his blood. ‘It’s unfortunate that the date didn’t go well, but I’ll take it from here.’

Elizabeth Young was sharp. ‘This is not how I conduct my business, Mr Carter. You can’t pursue her if she’s specifically requested not to see you again.’

Irritation prickled at this reiteration that she didn’t want to see him again—and at the implication that anyone could tell him what to do. But Ben realised that he couldn’t afford to alienate this woman. She was the key to all their futures. Except right now he was determined to take his future into his own hands.

‘You can rest assured, Miss Young. I won’t pursue her again through your agency.’

There was silence for a moment, and then Elizabeth Young said, ‘Thank you. If and when you’re ready to date again we can set up another appointment. But, Mr Carter, I have to warn you that I won’t tolerate anyone alienating my clientele.’

Once again Ben had to admit to a grudging sense of respect for the straight-talking matchmaker. Intimidated by powerful men she obviously was not. He said, ‘Julianna Ford and I had a clash of personality—that’s all. It happens from time to time. If I need you again I’ll call you. Goodbye, Miss Young.’

Ben terminated the call, filled with resolve. A clash of personality it might have been, between him and the lustrous dark-haired British beauty, but electricity had sizzled between them, no matter how icy her demeanour. He knew Julianna Ford was here for a charity function, and New York could be a surprisingly small place when you moved in certain circles. If they happened to meet again it wouldn’t be via Elizabeth Young, as he’d assured her.

Ben made a call on his phone, issuing curt instructions to his assistant on the other end. He told himself that the spiking of anticipation in his blood had more to do with the fact that Julianna Ford represented a chance to achieve his public and professional redemption and less to do with the fact that she’d intrigued the hell out of him with her frosty attitude—or the fact that he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman.


CHAPTER TWO (#uca7863db-ec58-5b72-9a21-53e021ba46e4)

THE FOLLOWING EVENING Lia surveyed herself critically in the full-length mirror of her hotel suite. The long evening dress was far more revealing than she liked, with its sleeveless plunging neckline and thigh-high slit, and also, if that wasn’t enough, the vibrant blood-red colour.

But, as much as she squirmed to show so much flesh, she knew that it would be effective as a means of deflecting attention from the fact that her father was conspicuous by his absence at the charity auction he’d been due to attend in one of Manhattan’s glitziest hotels.

She was also due to attend on her own behalf, because the charity—which helped crisis-stricken regions to begin rebuilding—was close to her heart.

She’d spoken to her father briefly and had been somewhat reassured. He was sounding a little perkier than he had in recent days. But this last stroke, albeit mild, had given them both a fright.

She’d told him that she’d gone on a date, and he’d been so delighted that she’d felt bad when she hadn’t revealed who her date had been. The last thing he needed was to hear Benjamin Carter’s name. Like her, he’d inevitably jump to the conclusion that he had ulterior motives—because the vultures were circling, just waiting for their chance to step in and make the most of Louis Ford’s weakness.

Lia had confirmed it for herself when she’d done an internet search on Benjamin Carter late last night—unable to sleep because a leanly handsome face with piercing blue eyes had kept her awake.

She’d come across a recent paparazzi photo of Benjamin Carter together with three of the world’s most notorious playboy tycoons and renowned business rivals. Xander Trakas, Dante Mancini and Sheikh Zayn Al-Ghamdi—all names that were indelibly linked to vast fortunes, beautiful women and an aversion to commitment.

The accompanying article had pointed out that they’d all suffered adverse press in recent months and speculation was rife as to why they were suddenly joining forces.

And that was when Lia knew she’d made a huge tactical error in showing Benjamin Carter such obvious antipathy. He was not becoming bosom buddies with his old enemies for no reason, nor asking her for a date for the good of his health—not when he could date any number of more beautiful and accessible women.

He was definitely up to something.

Curiously reluctant to leave her search there, though, she’d also learnt that he was a self-made legend who’d come from the most adverse of backgrounds, growing up in foster homes in Queens before working his way up through the construction hierarchy on sites all over New York. That had reminded her disturbingly of that air of something untamed about him in spite of his suave appearance.

Within just a decade he’d risen to the top of the industry—literally. His company was currently responsible for constructing what would become the tallest skyscraper in Manhattan.

He was ruthless and single-minded, and women only featured in his workaholic life as very momentary diversions—as brutally evidenced by a recent ‘kiss and tell’ Lia had found during the online search. Usually she abhorred gossip, but she’d found herself avidly reading about the way his ruthlessness extended beyond the bedroom once he was tired with seduction and conquest—which seemed to happen after only one or two dates at the most.

Yet that information hadn’t stopped Lia having a very illicit and dangerously wistful daydream that when she’d bumped into him in the street perhaps Benjamin Carter might have been just a random gorgeous stranger. Because for the first time since the humiliating aftermath of her broken engagement, a year before, she realised that a man had managed to break through the high wall she’d built around herself.

Lia quickly shut down that evocative image. So, she’d reacted to him? All that proved was that she was as dismayingly susceptible to his charms as the next woman. In spite of her frigidity. Benjamin Carter’s particular brand of virile masculinity was obviously potent enough to break through the thickest ice.

She glared balefully now at the extravagant vase of flowers on the antique side table, set there by a conscientious staff member. The accompanying note lay torn up in the bin, but she didn’t need to take it out to reread the arrogant slashing handwriting. She’d memorised it all too easily and annoyingly.

Till we meet again, Julianna. Ben.

The fact that he knew where she was staying caused little surprise. It wasn’t as if she was using an alias, and a man like Benjamin Carter would have minions aplenty to do his dirty work.

She’d almost been tempted to call Elizabeth Young again, to tell her to reinforce the message that she had no interest in him, but she’d realised she was being ridiculous. As rough as Benjamin Carter’s edges might be, she couldn’t see him stooping so low as to actually chase a woman. And in a few days Lia would be gone—safely back on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.

She turned her attention to her reflection again and took a deep breath, picking up an elaborately feathered black lace mask and fitting it to her face. She was relieved the charity auction had a masquerade theme, because she was feeling exposed enough as it was.

Firmly pushing disturbing memories back down where they belonged, along with thoughts of dark, handsome, annoying men, Lia gathered her things and left her suite.

* * *

Less than an hour later Lia had to stop herself from pulling the bodice of her dress up higher. She knew she was being silly, because there were women there in far more revealing dresses, but if one more man nearly tripped over his own tongue as he drooled at her chest she was going to scream.

Just then the three men who had been making more eye contact with her chest than her face seemed to melt back into the throng, and she sucked in a deep sigh of relief.

She turned away to look for a waiter and get a drink and found herself being jostled from behind. She was pitching forward helplessly into thin air when two hands caught her and stopped her fall. She looked up, heart hammering, to see a man—a very tall man, with broad shoulders. He was dressed in a white tuxedo jacket, white shirt and black bow tie.

His face, like most of the crowd’s, was obscured by a mask. Except his was more ornate and covered his whole face. She could see thick dark hair... For a heart-stopping moment Lia almost suspected— But then she told herself she was being ridiculous if she was letting Benjamin Carter get to her so much that she suspected this man could be him, when it was far more likely to be a stranger.

The man spoke, his voice slightly distorted under the mask. ‘Are you all right?’

Something inside Lia relaxed when she realised she didn’t immediately recognise the voice. His hands felt hot on the bare skin of her upper arms and she realised he was still holding on to her. Feeling flustered, she took a step back. ‘I’m fine, thank you... Sorry. I was just looking for a waiter to get a drink.’

‘Let me.’

As if by magic a waiter appeared by his side and the man handed her a glass of Champagne. She noticed that he didn’t take a drink. She sipped at the cool sparkling wine and felt some equilibrium return. Lia assured herself that if this was Benjamin Carter alarm bells would be ringing loudly.

She pushed all thoughts of that man aside and observed, ‘You’re not drinking?’

He shook his head. ‘I like to keep my wits about me—and my mask isn’t exactly conducive to drinking. I’d have to reveal my identity, which would defeat the object of the evening.’

His voice was cool, sardonic. And deep.

Something skated over Lia’s skin. Excitement. She couldn’t see his eyes, they were obscured, so she didn’t know what colour they were. The realisation that she didn’t even know where his eyes rested on her, or if he liked what he saw, made her skin heat with awareness. Before, she’d felt exposed, violated. Now she felt...aware of herself in a way that was very unlike her.

She almost had to suppress a slightly hysterical urge to giggle—maybe there was something in the water here in New York that was having an adverse effect on her?

‘You could have chosen a less restrictive mask,’ she pointed out to the stranger.

‘I could have,’ he agreed, leaving the words But I didn’t hanging silently between them.

Bizarrely, she got the distinct impression that this stranger would bend for no one. A crazy thought to have about someone she’d only met for mere seconds. Someone whose face she couldn’t even see. And crazy that it should send another shiver of excitement down her spine.

A hum of electricity infused her blood. Yesterday evening, when Benjamin Carter had precipitated similar sensations, she’d escaped as fast as she could. And now she was feeling all those things again. It was almost a relief—proof that his effect on her wasn’t exclusive.

The crowd seemed to be pressing in around them, pushing them closer together. Heat prickled over Lia’s skin in earnest now. A little panicked by her strong reactions, she said, ‘It’s getting claustrophobic in here, don’t you think?’

‘Would you like to get some air?’

Lia nodded, heart hammering. He expertly divested her of her half-empty glass and put a hand under her elbow. She found herself trying to assess if his palms were smooth or callused, but the crowd was jostling them too much. Then he was opening the French doors and leading her outside. It was late autumn, not quite yet winter, and the air was fresh. She moved away from him and gulped in deep breaths, her head feeling light. She put it down to the sparkling wine and the sudden rush of oxygen.

She went and put her hands on the stone wall, aware of the man coming to stand beside her, but keeping a distance that she appreciated. The lights of Manhattan sparkled around them, and Central Park was a dark shadow in the distance. There was silence between them for a moment, but it wasn’t awkward. This unexpected encounter was taking on an unreal quality.

‘I could never get tired of this view even if I lived here,’ Lia said.

The man turned towards her. ‘Where do you live?’

She glanced at him, finding the mask disconcerting but also a little...thrilling. Not knowing who she was speaking to was freeing, in some way. As if the normal social niceties could be ignored. The sheer breadth of his chest under his shirt made her hands itch. She felt very feminine next to his tall, broad body.

‘I live just outside London, in Richmond.’

The man made an appreciative sound.

Lia smiled. ‘You know it?’

She heard an answering smile in his voice. ‘It’s a nice place. Expensive.’

Lia commented dryly, ‘The tickets for this event start at a cool six thousand dollars, so I’m guessing that you’re no stranger to the more salubrious end of the property scale.’

Now he shrugged lightly. ‘I can’t deny that.’

Lia thought she saw the glitter of light eyes behind the mask and her heart beat a little faster. This felt risky...dangerous. But still thrilling.

She had never felt comfortable flirting, not having had her mother to guide her. She’d been so young when her mother had left them, and the all-girls weekly boarding school she’d attended hadn’t done much to help her grow more comfortable around boys and men.

But at least by the time she’d left school the acute shyness that had blighted her earlier years had been largely a thing of the past. Although even now that awkward stuttering girl still lurked deep within Lia, reminding her of the fact that a lot of what she projected was an elaborate act.

It was an act so effective that her ex-fiancé had been incredulous to discover that she was a virgin when they’d had sex for the first time, which had only added to the mortification she’d felt when the experience had proved to be painful and generally underwhelming.

But now she felt confident, and a little reckless. ‘So, is your role tonight to be as enigmatic and unrecognisable as possible?’

‘Is it working?’

His tone was light, but Lia could sense an edge. It added to the air of illicit danger and excitement.

‘Well, you’ve got the unrecognisable part down to a T.’

‘Ouch,’ he said softly. ‘Clearly I have to work on being an enigma.’

Once again Lia had the distinct impression that being enigmatic came all too easily to this stranger. And he knew it. Even without seeing his face she could sense his sheer command and charisma. He was somebody.

She felt even more reckless as she said, ‘Are we going to exchange names?’

‘Do you want to?’

Lia nodded, and then shivered lightly. It was as if she could feel his gaze on her now, even though she couldn’t see his eyes. It was like a caress across her skin.

Obviously misreading her shiver, he took off his jacket and settled it around her shoulders before she could protest. The heat from his body felt absurdly intimate, and she was acutely aware of his fingers brushing the bare skin of her shoulders.

Was it her imagination, or had they lingered a moment? ‘Thank you.’ Her voice was husky.

He was closer now—close enough that she could see his stubbled jaw under the mask. It looked strong, defined. His scent was masculine, woody and musky.

To her surprise she felt her lower body clench in reaction, and a rush of damp heat between her legs. That very physical reaction sent a dose of reality rushing back. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t a usual state for her to be in... For a second she wondered what had changed inside her. How could she be reacting so wantonly to two men in the space of two nights?

The stranger cut into her thoughts with his deep voice. ‘Are you sure you want to exchange names?’

Lia wasn’t so sure now. That slap of reality had reminded her that she was out of her depth here. But she wasn’t ready to burst this sensual bubble yet. She was pretending to be something she wasn’t—confident. Experienced.

Feeling absurdly regretful, she said, ‘I’m not sure if I do...but we can’t hide for ever...’

She heard the smile in his voice again. ‘It’s tempting, though, isn’t it?’

She nodded, feeling something melting inside her at the sense of kinship she felt. She desperately wanted to keep pretending to be someone else for another small moment, and helplessly she found her feet moving closer.

He seemed to reach for her at the same time, and his hands cupped her jaw, thumbs caressing her cheeks. ‘You’re exquisite—do you know that?’

Lia shook her head, embarrassed. She knew without false modesty that she was pleasant enough to look at, but she’d never felt truly beautiful. She looked at women sometimes and saw that they owned their innate sensuality in such a way that she envied them. And it had nothing to do with being the perfect size or having a pretty face.

But right now...even though half her face was obscured by a mask...she felt an inkling of it. For the first time. Her mouth tingled and she imagined his gaze on her there. Her lips parted and his hands tightened on her face. An urgency seemed to infuse the air around them...the atmosphere grew thick and heavy.

Excitement rushed through her. Lia reached up one hand, to touch his mask. Her heart thumping so hard she wondered if he could hear it, she started pushing it up, desperately wanting to see him, wanting his mouth to touch hers.

She caught a glimpse of his lower lip and then one hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her. His voice sounded rough. ‘You might not like what you see.’

Lia shook her head. She knew, just knew that she needed to see who he was more than she needed to draw breath. She pulled her hand free and was about to tip his mask up again when a voice broke through the thick tension.

‘Lia! There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I’m having a total crisis—you have to help me.’

The mood snapped instantly. The man stepped back and Lia’s hand dropped to her side. Her heart was racing as if they had just kissed, and she realised she was trembling.

She tore her eyes away from that impassive mask that hid so much and she wanted to shout her frustration. She could see now that the person interrupting them was the charity auction event manager—an English ex-pat called Sarah, who had become a friend of sorts. They met whenever Lia came to New York.

‘What’s wrong, Sarah?’ Lia was relieved that her voice sounded calmer than she felt.

The attractive blonde woman looked panicked. ‘Stacy Somers, the supermodel, was supposed to be here for the charity auction, which is due to start in ten minutes. The deal was that she’d auction a kiss, and now we’re stuck.’

Lia’s eyes widened at her friend’s expressive look, and she spluttered, ‘But...but you can’t mean for me to fill in?’ All her old insecurities flooded back. ‘I’m hardly supermodel-replacement material—and hardly anyone here even knows me!’

Her friend’s eyes were wild and panicked. ‘Please, Lia. You look amazing tonight, and no one will care who you are. It’s for charity, and it’s a fun item, and it’s in the auction brochure and my boss is going crazy at the thought of the schedule getting messed up...’

Lia felt cornered. Just the thought of everyone staring at her made her skin break out in a cold sweat.

And then a deep voice from beside her said, ‘I’d pay for a kiss from you.’

She looked up at the man—she’d almost forgotten he was there in her moment of panic. And now she felt hot all over. At the thought of his eyes on her. At the thought of him claiming her in front of everyone. Lord. New York was warping her brain completely.

‘I’m sorry, but who are you?’

The question came from Sarah, and Lia’s attention snapped to her suddenly very curious-looking friend. The thought of him revealing who he was here and now threatened to burst the intimate bubble that had cocooned them.

Lia made a split-second decision and said, ‘I’ll do it.’

Her friend looked at her and her relief was palpable. Lia shrugged off the jacket and handed it back to the stranger. Their hands touched and she felt a zing of electricity. She felt jittery, as she had last night. Had she just sent him a challenge? Would he bid for a kiss and reveal himself?

Before she could think about it any further Sarah was taking her by the arm and all but hauling her back into the thronged room, gabbling about what she needed Lia to do. Lia barely heard a word.

She glanced back once before she was sucked into the crowd, but when she did the patio was empty and she wondered for a crazy, panicky moment if she’d just dreamed up the whole encounter with the enigmatic stranger. And, if she’d ever see him again.

* * *

‘Now, who is going to start the bidding for a kiss with our lovely English rose, Julianna Ford?’ said the smooth-voiced auctioneer behind the tall lectern.

Benjamin stood at the side of the room with his arms folded and his hands tucked under his arms. Because he was afraid he might reach out and throttle anyone who dared to attempt to kiss the woman standing on the dais, situated in the centre of the vast room.

She looked far too enticing with her hair pulled back, exposing her long neck, but also strangely vulnerable. He would have thought that someone from her background and particular social scene would be accustomed to showing off in such a manner. She’d certainly shown an authoritative side when they’d met the previous evening.





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