Книга - Rumours on the Red Carpet

Rumours on the Red Carpet
Carole Mortimer


When the chance of a dream holiday lands in Thia Hammond’s lap, it’s too much to resist.Suddenly this innocent waitress is propelled from her quiet English life into the glittering world of New York’s scandalous elite and the glare of the paparazzi flashbulbs.Catching the eye of internationally renowned business mogul Lucien Steele, Thia’s about to learn a thing or two about life and love in the fast lane!For once in her carefully ordered existence she will take, not what is safe, but what she really wants.







Lucien slowly lifted Thia’s hand to his lips, his gaze still holding hers as those lips grazed the back of her knuckles, tongue rasping, tasting.

“Nothing could be as beautiful as you,” he murmured, and the warmth of his breath brushed lightly against her over-sensitised skin.

At this moment in time, Thia finished ruefully inside her head. Right here and right now she had Lucien’s complete attention. But tomorrow it would be different.

Oh, to hell with tomorrow!

For once in her carefully constructed life she was going to take what she wanted, not what was safe, or what she could afford, but what she wanted.

And tonight she so very much wanted to be here with Lucien.

She lowered her lashes as she pulled her hand gently from his grasp before moving them to unfasten the belt of the robe. She shrugged the black silk from her shoulders, hearing Lucien’s breath catching in his throat as she allowed the robe to slide down her arms to fall onto the carpet at her feet.

She was completely naked in front of him.


SCANDAL IN THE SPOTLIGHT

The truth is more shocking than the headlines!

Named and most definitely shamed, these media darlings have learnt the hard way that the press always loves a scandal!

Having a devastatingly gorgeous man on their arm only adds fuel to the media frenzy. Especially when the attraction between them burns hotter and brighter than a paparazzo’s flashbulb …

More books in the Scandal in the Spotlight miniseries available in eBook:

GIRL BEHIND THE SCANDALOUS REPUTATION

by Michelle Conder

BACK IN THE HEADLINES

by Sharon Kendrick

NO MORE SWEET SURRENDER

by Caitlin Crews

A TASTE OF THE FORBIDDEN

by Carole Mortimer

A GAME WITH ONE WINNER

by Lynn Raye Harris

Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk


Rumors on the Red Carpet

Carole Mortimer




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


CAROLE MORTIMER was born in England, the youngest of three children. She began writing in 1978, and has now written over one hundred and fifty books for Harlequin Mills & Boon


. Carole has six sons: Matthew, Joshua, Timothy, Michael, David and Peter. She says, ‘I’m happily married to Peter senior; we’re best friends as well as lovers, which is probably the best recipe for a successful relationship. We live in a lovely part of England.’

Recent titles by the same author:

A TOUCH OF NOTORIETY

A TASTE OF THE FORBIDDEN

(Buenos Aires Nights) HIS REPUTATION PRECEDES HIM (The Lyonedes Legacy) DEFYING DRAKON (The Lyonedes Legacy)

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk


Peter, as always.


Contents

CHAPTER ONE (#ud12f4fac-46f5-5e6e-bab6-baf2af1ad30b)

CHAPTER TWO (#u7292879c-a5ea-55ff-a836-61e2c833d00b)

CHAPTER THREE (#ude4b49d7-a327-51ae-b9a3-93bacce637cf)

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)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE

‘ENJOYING THE VIEW...?’

Thia tensed, a shiver of awareness quivering down the length of her spine at the sound of that deep voice coming out of the darkness behind her, before turning quickly to search those shadows for the man who had just spoken to her.

She was able to make out a tall figure in the moonlight just feet away from where she stood, alone on the balcony that surrounded the whole of this luxurious penthouse apartment on the fortieth floor of one of the impressive buildings lighting up the New York skyline. Only dim light spilled from the open French doors of the apartment further down the balcony—along with the sound of tinkling laughter and the chatter of the fifty or so party guests still inside—making it impossible for Thia to see any more than that the man was very tall, dark and broad-shouldered. Imposingly so.

Dangerously so...?

The wariness still humming through her body just at the sound of the deep and seductive timbre of his voice said a definite yes!

Thia’s fingers tightened about the breast-high balustrade in front of her. ‘I was, yes...’ she answered pointedly.

‘You’re a Brit,’ he observed deeply.

‘From London,’ Thia confirmed shortly, really hoping that he would take note of that terseness and leave her to her solitude.

The New York night skyline, amazing as it was, hadn’t been Thia’s main reason for coming outside into the balmy evening air fifteen minutes ago, when the other guests had all been preoccupied with their excitement at the late arrival of Lucien Steele, American zillionaire businessman, and the party’s guest of honour. That so many high-profile actors, actresses and politicians had turned out for the event was indicative of the amount of power the man wielded.

After all Jonathan’s hype about him Thia had to admit that she hadn’t found him so prepossessing—a man of middle age and average height, slightly stocky and balding. But maybe all that money and power made him more attractive? In any event, Thia had just been grateful that he had arrived at last—if only because it had allowed her to slip outside and be alone—instead of just feeling alone.

Thia certainly hadn’t intended to find herself alone on the balcony with a man who exuded such an intensity of power and sexual attraction she could almost taste it...

‘A Brit, from London, who’s avoiding the party inside...?’ that deep voice guessed with dry amusement.

Having been to three other parties just like this one in the four days since her arrival in New York, Thia had to admit to having become slightly bored—jaded?—by them. The first one had been fun—exciting, even—meeting people she had only ever seen on the big or little screen before, world-famous actors and actresses and high-profile politicians. But the artificiality of it was all becoming a bit samey now. The conversations were repetitive and too loud, the laughter even more so, with everyone seemingly out to impress or better everyone else, their excessive wealth literally worn on their sleeves.

This constant round of parties also meant that she’d had very little opportunity for any time or private conversation with Jonathan, the man she had come to New York to visit...

Jonathan Miller, the English star of Network, a new American thriller television series set in New York, directed by this evening’s host, Felix Carew, and co-starring his young and sexy wife Simone as the love-interest.

The show had been an instant hit, and Jonathan was currently the darling of New York’s beautiful people—and, as Thia had discovered these past four days, there were a lot of beautiful people in New York!

And not a single one of them had felt any qualms about ignoring the woman who had been seen at Jonathan’s side on those evenings once they’d learnt that Thia was of no social or political value to them whatsoever.

Not that Thia minded being ignored. She had very quickly discovered she had no more in common with New York’s elite than they had with her.

She was pleased for Jonathan’s success, of course. The two of them had known each other for a couple of years now, after meeting at the London restaurant where Thia always worked the late shift, leaving her free to attend her university course in the day.

She and Jonathan had met quite by chance, when he had been appearing in a play at the theatre across the street from the restaurant and had started calling in late in the evening a couple of times a week for something to eat, once the theatre had closed for the night.

They had chatted on those evenings, then dated casually for a few weeks. But there had been no spark between them and the relationship had quickly fallen into the ‘just friends’ category. Then, four months ago, Jonathan had landed the lead role in the television series over here, and Thia had accepted that even that friendship would be over once Jonathan moved to New York.

He had telephoned a couple of times in the months that followed, just light and friendly conversations, when they had caught up on each other’s lives, and then a month ago Jonathan had flown back to England for the weekend, insisting he had missed her and wanted to spend all his time back home with her. And it had been fun. Thia had arranged to have the weekend off so that they could have dinner together in the evening, visits to museums and walks in the parks during the day, before Jonathan had to fly back to New York to start filming again on the Monday.

But no one had been more surprised than Thia when a first-class plane ticket for a week-long stay in New York had been delivered to her by messenger just two days later!

She had telephoned Jonathan immediately, of course, to tell him she couldn’t possibly accept such generosity from him. But he had insisted, saying he could well afford it and, more to the point, he wanted to see her again. He wanted to show her New York, and for New York to see her.

Thia’s pride had told her she should continue to refuse, but Jonathan had been very persuasive, and as she hadn’t been able to afford a holiday for years the temptation had just been too much. So she had accepted, with the proviso that he cancelled the first class ticket and changed it to a standard fare. Spending that amount of money on an airfare seemed obscene to her, in view of her own financial difficulties.

Jonathan had assured her that she would have her own bedroom in his apartment, and that he just wanted her to come and enjoy New York with him. She had even gone out and spent some of her hard-earned savings on buying some new clothes for the trip!

Except Jonathan’s idea of her enjoying New York with him was vastly different from Thia’s own. They had attended parties like this one every night, and Jonathan would sleep off the effects the following morning. Meanwhile his late afternoons and early evenings were usually spent secluded somewhere with Simone Carew, going over the script together.

Seeing so little of Jonathan during the day, and attending parties in the evenings, Thia had started to wonder why he had bothered to invite her here at all.

And she now found herself irritated that, once again, Jonathan had disappeared with Simone shortly after they had arrived at this party he had claimed was so important to him on account of the presence of Lucien Steele, the American billionaire owner of the television station responsible for Network. That desertion had left Thia being considered fair game by men like the one standing in the shadows behind her...

Well...perhaps not exactly like this man. The way he seemed to possess even the air about him told her that she had never met a man quite like this one before...

‘Beautiful...’ the man murmured huskily as he stepped forward to stand at the railing beside her.

Thia’s heart skipped a beat, her nerve-endings going on high alert as her senses were instantly filled with the light smell of lemons—his cologne?—accompanied by an insidious maleness that she guessed was all him.

She turned to look at him, tilting her head back as she realised how much taller he was than her, even in her four-inch-heeled take-me-to-bed shoes. Taller, and so broad across the shoulders, with dark hair that rested low on the collar of his white shirt and black evening jacket. His face appeared to be all hard angles in the moonlight: strong jaw, chiselled lips, long aquiline nose, high cheekbones. And those pale and glittering eyes—

Piercing eyes, that she now realised were looking at her in admiration rather than at the New York skyline!

Thia repressed another quiver of awareness at having this man look at her so intently, realising that she was completely alone out here with a man she didn’t know from—well, from Adam.

‘Have they all stopped licking Lucien Steele’s highly polished handmade Italian leather shoes yet, do you think?’ she prompted in her nervousness, only to give a pained grimace at her uncharacteristic sharpness. ‘I’m sorry—that was incredibly rude of me.’ She winced, knowing how important Lucien Steele’s goodwill was to Jonathan’s success in the US. He had certainly emphasised it often enough on the drive over here!

‘But true?’ the man drawled dryly.

‘Perhaps.’ She nodded. ‘But I’m sure that Mr Steele has more than earned the adoration being showered upon him so effusively.’

Teeth gleamed whitely in the darkness as the man gave a hard and humourless smile. ‘Or maybe he’s just so rich and powerful no one has ever dared to tell him otherwise?’

‘Maybe,’ she conceded ruefully. ‘Cynthia Hammond.’ She thrust out her hand in an effort to bring some normality to this conversation. ‘But everyone calls me Thia.’

He took possession of her hand—there was no other way to describe the way the paleness of her hand just disappeared inside the long bronzed strength of his. And Thia could not ignore the jolt of electricity zinging along her fingers and arm at contact with the warmth of his skin...

‘I’ve never been particularly fond of being a part of what everyone else does,’ he murmured throatily. ‘So I think I’ll call you Cyn...’

Just the way he said that word, in that deliciously deep and sexy voice, was enough to send yet more shivers of awareness down Thia’s spine. Her breasts tingled with that awareness, the nipples puckering to tight and sensitive berries as they pressed against the sheer material of the clinging blue ankle-length gown she wore.

And it was a totally inappropriate reaction to a complete stranger!

Jonathan might have done yet another disappearing act with Simone forty minutes ago, but that certainly didn’t mean Thia was going to stand here and allow herself to be seduced by some dark-haired hunk, who looked sinfully delicious in his obviously expensive evening suit but so far hadn’t even been polite enough to introduce himself!

‘And you are...?’

Those teeth gleamed even whiter in the darkness as he gave a wolfish smile. ‘Lucien Steele.’

Thia gave a snort. ‘I don’t think so!’ she scoffed.

‘No?’ He sounded amused by her scepticism.

‘No,’ she repeated decisively.

He raised one dark brow. ‘Why not?’

She breathed her impatience. ‘Well, for one thing you aren’t nearly old enough to be the self-made zillionaire Lucien Steele.’ She estimated this man was aged somewhere in his early to mid-thirties, ten or twelve years older than her own twenty-three, and she knew from the things Jonathan had told her about this evening’s guest of honour that Lucien Steele had not only been the richest man in New York for the last ten years, but was also the most powerful.

He gave an unconcerned shrug of those impossibly wide shoulders. ‘What can I say? My parents were wealthy to begin with, and I’d made my own first million by the time I was twenty-one.’

‘Also,’ Thia continued, determined, ‘I saw Mr Steele when he arrived.’

It had been impossible to miss the awed reaction of the other guests. Those incredibly rich and beautiful people had all, without exception, fallen absolutely silent the moment Lucien Steele had appeared in the doorway. And Felix Carew, a powerful man in his own right, had become almost unctuous as he moved swiftly across the room to greet his guest.

Thia gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘Lucien Steele is in his early forties, several inches shorter than you are, and stocky, with a shaved head.’ In fact on first glance she had thought the man more resembled a thug rather than the richest and most powerful man in New York!

‘That would be Dex.’

‘Dex...?’ she echoed doubtfully.

‘Mmm.’ The man beside her nodded unconcernedly. ‘He takes his duties as my bodyguard very seriously—to the point that he always insists upon entering a room before I do. I’m not sure why,’ he mused. ‘Perhaps he expects there to be an assassin on the other side of every door...’

Thia felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach as she heard the amused dismissal in this man’s—in Lucien Steele’s?—voice. Moistening her lips with the tip of tongue before speaking, she said, ‘And where is Dex now...?’

‘Probably standing guard on the other side of those French doors.’ He nodded down the balcony to the same doorway Thia had escaped through minutes ago.

And was Dex making sure that no one came outside, or was he ensuring that Thia couldn’t return inside until this man wished her to...?

She gave another frown as she looked up searchingly at the man now standing so near to her she could feel the heat emanating from his body on the bareness of her shoulders and arms. Once again she took note of that inborn air of power, arrogance, she had sensed in him from the first.

For all the world as if he was used to people licking his highly polished handmade Italian leather shoes...

* * *

Lucien continued to hold Cyn’s now trembling hand and waited in silence for her to gather her breath as she looked up at him between long and silky lashes with eyes a dark and mysterious cobalt blue.

Those eyes became shadowed with apprehension as she gave another nervous flick of her little pink tongue over the moist fullness of her perfectly shaped lips. ‘The same Lucien Steele who owns Steele Technology, Steele Media, Steele Atlantic Airline and Steele Industries, as well as all those other Steele Something-or-Others?’ she murmured faintly.

He shrugged. ‘It seemed like a good idea to diversify.’

She determinedly pulled her hand from his grasp before tightly gripping the top of the balustrade. ‘The same Lucien Steele who’s a zillionaire?’

‘I believe you said that already...’ Lucien nodded.

She drew in a deep breath, obviously completely unaware of how it tightened the material of her dress across her breasts and succeeded in outlining the fullness of those—aroused?—nipples. Nipples that were a delicate pink or a succulent rose? Whatever their colour, he was sure they would taste delicious. Sweet and juicy, and oh so ripe and responsive as he licked and suckled them.

He had noticed the woman he now knew to be Cynthia Hammond the moment he’d entered Felix and Simone Carew’s penthouse apartment a short time ago. It had been impossible not to as she’d stood alone at the back of the opulent room, her hair a sleek and glossy unadorned black as it fell silkily to just below her shoulders, her eyes that deep cobalt blue in the beautiful pale delicacy of her face.

She wore a strapless ankle-length gown of that same deep blue, leaving the tops of her breasts, shoulders and arms completely bare. The smoothness of her skin was a beautiful pearly white unlike any other Lucien had ever seen: a pale ivory tinted lightly pink, luminescent. Smoothly delicate and pearly skin his fingers itched to touch and caress.

The simple style of that silky blue gown allowed it to cling to every curvaceous inch of her full breasts, slender waist and gently flaring hips, so much so that Lucien had questioned whether or not she wore anything beneath it.

He still questioned it...

But what had really made him take notice of her, even more than her natural beauty or the pearly perfection of her skin, was the fact that instead of moving towards him, as every other person in the room had done, this pale and delicately beautiful woman had instead taken advantage of his arrival to slip quietly from the room and go outside onto the balcony.

Nor had she returned by the time Lucien had finally managed to extract himself from the—what had she called it a few moments ago? The licking of his ‘highly polished handmade Italian leather shoes’. His curiosity piqued—and very little piqued his jaded palate nowadays!—Lucien hadn’t been able to resist coming out onto the balcony to look for her the moment he had managed to escape all that cloying attention.

She drew in another deep breath now before speaking, causing the fullness of her breasts to once again swell deliciously over the bodice of that clinging blue gown.

‘I really do apologise for my rudeness, Mr Steele. It’s no excuse, but I’m really not having a good evening—and my rudeness to you means that it has just got so much worse!’ she conceded with another pained wince. ‘But that is really no reason for me to have been rude about you—or to you.’

He quirked one dark brow. ‘I don’t think you know me well enough as yet to speak with any authority on whether or not I deserve for you to be rude to me or about me,’ he drawled mockingly.

‘Well...no...’ She was obviously slightly unnerved by his emphasis on the words ‘as yet’... ‘But—’ She gave a shake of her head, causing that silky and completely straight black hair to glide across the bareness of her shoulders and caress tantalisingly across the tops of her breasts. ‘I still shouldn’t have been so outspoken about someone I only know about from the media.’

‘Especially when we all know how inaccurate the media can be?’ he drawled wryly.

‘Exactly!’ She nodded enthusiastically before just as quickly pausing to eye him uncertainly. ‘Don’t you own something like ninety per cent of the worldwide media?’

‘That would be contrary to monopoly regulations,’ he drawled dismissively.

‘Do zillionaires bother with little things like regulations?’ she teased.

He chuckled huskily. ‘They do if they don’t want their zillionaire butts to end up in court!’

Thia felt what was becoming a familiar quiver down the length of her spine at the sound of this man’s throaty laughter. As she also acknowledged that, for all this man unnerved her, she was actually enjoying herself—possibly for the first time since arriving in New York.

‘Are you cold?’

Thia had no chance to confirm or deny that she was before Lucien Steele removed his evening jacket and placed it about the bareness of her shoulders. It reached almost down to her knees and smelt of the freshness of those lemons as his warmth surrounded her, and of the more insidious and earthy smell of the man himself.

‘No, really—’

‘Leave it.’ Both his hands came down onto the shoulders of the jacket as she would have reached up and removed it.

Thia shivered anew as she felt the warmth of those long and elegant hands even through the material of his jacket. A shiver entirely due to the presence of this overwhelming man—also the reason for her earlier shiver—rather than any chill in the warm evening air...

His hands left her shoulders reluctantly as he moved to stand beside her once again, that pale gaze—silver?—once again intent on her face. The snug fit of his evening shirt revealed that his shoulders really were that wide, his chest muscled, his waist slender above lean hips and long legs; obviously Lucien Steele didn’t spend all of his days sitting in boardrooms and adding to his billions.

‘Why aren’t you having a good evening?’ he prompted softly.

Why? Because this visit to New York hadn’t turned out to be anything like Thia had imagined it would be. Because she had once again been brought to a party and then quickly abandoned by—well, Jonathan certainly wasn’t her boyfriend, but she had certainly thought of him as a friend. A friend who had disappeared with their hostess within minutes of their arrival, leaving her to the untender mercies of New York’s finest.

Latterly she wasn’t having a good evening because she was far too aware of the man standing beside her—of the way the warmth and seductive smell of Lucien Steele’s tailored jacket made her feel as if she was surrounded by the man himself.

And lastly because Thia had no idea how to deal with the unprecedented arousal now coursing through her body!

She gave a shrug. ‘I don’t enjoy parties like this one.’

‘Why not?’

She grimaced, taking care not to insult this man for a second time this evening. ‘It’s just a personal choice.’

He nodded. ‘And where do you fit in with this crowd? Are you an actress?’

‘Heavens, no!’

‘A wannabe?’

‘I beg your pardon...?’

He shrugged those impossibly wide shoulders. ‘Do you wannabe an actress?’

‘Oh, I see.’ Thia gave a rueful smile. ‘No, I have no interest in becoming an actress, either.’

‘A model?’

She snorted. ‘Hardly, when I’m only five feet two inches in my bare feet!’

‘You aren’t being very helpful, Cyn.’ There was an underlying impatience in that amused tone. Thia had seen far too much of the reaction of New York’s elite these past four days not to know they had absolutely no interest in cultivating the company of a student and a waitress. Lucien Steele would have no further interest in her, either, once he knew. Which might not be a bad thing...

Her chin rose determinedly. ‘I’m just a nobody on a visit to New York.’

Lucien totally disagreed with at least part of that statement. Cynthia Hammond was certainly somebody. Somebody—a woman—whose beauty and conversation he found just as intriguing as he had hoped he might...

She quirked dark brows. ‘I believe that’s your cue to politely excuse yourself?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘And why would I wish to do that?’

She shrugged her shoulders beneath his jacket. ‘It’s what everyone else I’ve met in New York has done once they realise I’m of use to them.’

Yes, Lucien could imagine, knowing New York society as well as he did, that its members would have felt no hesitation whatsoever in making their lack of interest known. ‘I believe I’ve already stated that I prefer not to be like everyone else.’

‘Ain’t that the truth? I mean—’ A delicious blush now coloured those pale ivory cheeks as she briefly closed her eyes before looking up at him apologetically. ‘I apologise once again. I’m really not having a good evening!’ She sighed.

He nodded. ‘Would you like to leave? We could go somewhere quiet and have a drink together?’

Cyn blinked those long lashes. ‘I beg your pardon...?’

Lucien gave a hard, humourless smile. ‘I hate parties like this one too.’

‘But you’re the guest of honour!’

He grimaced. ‘I especially hate parties where I’m the guest of honour.’

Thia looked up at him searchingly, not sure whether or not Lucien Steele was playing with her. Not sure why he was bothering, if that should be the case!

The steady regard of those pale eyes and the grimness of his expression told her that this was a man who rarely, if ever, played.

He was seriously asking her to leave the Carews’ party with him...


CHAPTER TWO

THIA GAVE A rueful shake of her head as she smiled. ‘That really wouldn’t be a good idea.’

‘Why not?’

‘Are you always this persistent?’ She frowned.

He seemed to give the idea some thought before answering. ‘When I want something badly enough, yes,’ he finally murmured, without apology.

The intensity in that silver gaze as he looked down at Thia told her all too clearly that right now Lucien Steele wanted her.

Badly.

Wickedly!

She repressed another shiver of awareness just at the thought of how those chiselled lips and strong hands might feel as they sought out all the secret dips and hollows of her body.

‘I really think it’s time I went back inside.’ She was slightly flustered as she slipped his jacket from about her shoulders and held it out to him. ‘Please take it,’ she urged when he made no effort to do so.

He looked down at her searchingly for several seconds before slowly taking the jacket and placing it dismissively over the balustrade in front of him—as if it hadn’t cost as much as Thia might earn in a year as a waitress including tips!

‘Cyn...’

He wasn’t even touching her, and yet he managed to hold her mesmerised just by the way he murmured his own unique name for her in that deeply seductive voice, sending more rivulets of awareness down Thia’s spine and causing a return of that tingling sensation in her breasts, accompanied by an unaccustomed warmth between her thighs.

‘Yes...?’ she answered breathlessly.

‘I really want you to leave with me.’

‘I can’t.’ She groaned in protest at the compulsion in the huskiness of his voice, sure that this man—a man who was not only sinfully handsome but rich as Creosus—rarely, if ever, asked for anything from anyone. He just took.

‘Why not?’

‘I just— What colour are your eyes, exactly...?’ Whatever colour they were, they held Thia captive by their sheer intensity!

He blinked at the unexpectedness of the question. ‘My eyes...?’

‘Yes.’

His mouth twisted in a rueful smile. ‘I believe it says grey on my passport.’

Thia gave a shake of her head. ‘They’re silver,’ she corrected, barely able to breathe now, even knowing this was madness—that she was so totally aware of Lucien Steele, her skin so sensitised by the intensity of that glittering silver gaze fixed on her so intently, that she could feel the brush of each individual strand of her hair as it caressed lightly, silkily, across her shoulders and the tops of her breasts.

A totally unexpected and unprecedented reaction. To any man. Goodness knew Jonathan was handsome enough, with his overlong blond hair, laughing blue eyes and lean masculinity, but for some reason she had just never found him attractive in that way. Just looking at Lucien Steele, knowing she was aware of everything about him, of all that underlying and leashed power, she knew that she never would be attracted to Jonathan—that Lucien Steele was so overpowering he ruined a woman’s appreciation for any other man.

‘Grey...silver...they can be whatever the hell colour you want them to be if you’ll only leave with me now,’ Lucien Steele urged again, with that same intensity.

She was tempted—Lord, was Thia tempted!—but it wouldn’t do. No matter how distracted and inattentive Jonathan might choose to be, she couldn’t arrive at a party with him and then leave with another man. Especially a man she found as disturbing as she did Lucien Steele!

A man who was over six feet of lean and compelling muscle. A man who was too handsome for his own good. A man who was just too...too intense—too much of everything—and whom she had discovered she found so mouthwateringly tempting.

Thia straightened her spine determinedly. ‘I came here with someone.’

Those silver eyes narrowed with displeasure. ‘A male someone?’

‘Yes.’

His gaze moved to her left hand. ‘You aren’t wearing any rings.’

Thia gave a shake of her head. ‘He isn’t that sort of friend.’

‘Then who is he?’

‘I don’t think that’s any of your business—’

‘And if I choose to make it so?’

‘He’s just a friend,’ she dismissed impatiently, not sure even that was true any longer. Jonathan had made it obvious he inhabited a different world from her now—a world she had no inclination or desire ever to become a part of.

Lucien Steele’s expression was grim as he shook his head. ‘He can’t be that much of a friend if he brought you here and then just left you to your own devices.’

This was the same conclusion Thia had come to over the past four days! ‘I’m an adult and perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you very much,’ she assured him tartly.

Lucien Steele raised dark brows. ‘So much so that you came out here alone rather than remain at the party?’

She felt stung by the mockery in his tone. ‘Maybe I just wanted to get away from all that boot-licking?’ she challenged.

‘Handmade Italian leather shoes,’ he corrected dryly.

‘Whatever,’ Thia dismissed impatiently. ‘I’m sure you didn’t come here alone tonight, either...’ She vaguely recalled Jonathan mentioning something about Lucien Steele currently being involved with the supermodel Lyndsay Turner. A woman who, six feet tall and blond, couldn’t be any more Thia’s opposite!

Lucien’s mouth thinned as he recalled the scene that had taken place with Lyndsay a week ago. A scene in which the supermodel had seriously overestimated his feelings for her and that had resulted in the end of their month-long relationship. Hell, he didn’t do promises—let alone engagement and wedding rings.

He grimaced. ‘As it happens, I did. And I want to leave with you,’ he added determinedly, knowing it had been a long time since he had wanted anything as much as he now wanted to spend time alone with Cynthia Hammond.

‘You don’t know the first thing about me,’ she dismissed exasperatedly.

‘Which is precisely the reason I want the two of us to go somewhere quiet and talk—so that I can get to know you better,’ he pushed insistently. The more this woman resisted him the more determined he became to leave the party with her this evening. At which time he intended to find out exactly which of Felix Carew’s male guests was the friend Cyn had mentioned...

She attempted to tease. ‘Has no one ever told you that it isn’t possible to have everything you want?’

‘No.’ A nerve pulsed in Lucien’s tightly clenched jaw.

‘Because you’re so rich and powerful no one would ever dare to tell you otherwise?’ she asked softly, reminding him of his earlier comment.

‘No doubt.’ Again he answered unapologetically.

Thia gave an exasperated laugh at this man’s unrelenting arrogance; she really had never met a man quite like him before! ‘Then I shall have the distinction of being the first to do so! It’s been...interesting meeting you, Mr Steele, but I really should go back inside and— What are you doing...?’ She gasped softly as his gaze continued to hold hers captive even as his head slowly descended towards her, the warmth of his breath as light as a caress against her cheeks and lips.

‘I want—I’d like to kiss you,’ he corrected huskily, his lips just centimetres away from her own. ‘Are you going to let me?’

‘No...’ Thia was aware her protest sounded half-hearted and she found herself unable to look away from those mesmerising silver eyes.

‘Say yes, Cyn.’ He moved slightly, his lips a hot and brief caress against the heat of her cheek before he raised his head and looked at her once again, not touching her with anything but the intensity of that glittering gaze.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move so much as a muscle, as she continued to be held captive by the intensity of those eyes. Much like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Or a freight train. Either of which was capable of flattening whatever stood in their way. As Lucien Steele’s brand of seduction was capable of crushing both Thia and her resistance...

She drew in a shaky breath before stepping back and away from him. ‘Thank you for the invitation, Mr Steele, but no.’

‘Lucien.’

She shook her head. ‘I believe I would prefer to continue calling you Mr Steele. Not that we’ll ever meet again after this evening. But even so—’

‘Why not?’

Thia gave a lightly dismissive laugh at the sharpness of his tone. ‘Because you inhabit this world and I—I inhabit another one.’

‘And yet here you are...?’

‘Yes, here I am.’ And she wouldn’t be coming back again if she could help it! ‘I really do have to go back inside now—’

‘And look for your friend?’ he prompted harshly.

‘Yes.’ Thia grimaced, very much afraid that she and that ‘friend’ were going to have words before the evening was over. Certainly she had no intention of letting Jonathan get away with bringing her to another party like this one and then leaving her to go off somewhere with the beautiful Simone. Jonathan’s habit of just forgetting Thia’s existence the moment they arrived at one of these parties was becoming tedious as well as a complete waste of her time, when she really didn’t enjoy being here.

‘Who is he?’

‘It’s really none of your business,’ Thia snapped in irritation at Lucien Steele’s persistence.

Those silver eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. ‘At least tell me where you’re staying in New York.’

She gave an exasperated grimace. ‘That’s even less your business! Now, if you’ll excuse me...’ Thia didn’t wait for him to reply before turning on her four-inch-heeled shoes and walking away, her head held determinedly high as she forced herself not to hurry, not to reveal how desperately she needed to get away from Lucien Steele’s disturbingly compelling presence.

Even if she was completely aware of that silver gaze as a sensual caress across the bareness of her shoulders and down the length of her spine and the slender curve of her hips!

Lucien Steele was without doubt the most disturbingly sexual man she had ever—

‘Where the hell have you been?’ Jonathan demanded the moment she stepped back into the Carews’ huge sitting room. The expression on his boyishly handsome face was accusing as he took a rough hold of her arm.

An entirely unfair accusation, in Thia’s estimation, considering he was the one who had gone missing with their hostess for almost an hour, leaving her to be approached by Lucien Steele!

‘Can we talk about this somewhere less...public, Jonathan?’ She glared at him, very aware of the silent—listening?—presence of Lucien Steele’s bodyguard, Dex, just feet away from the two of them. ‘Preferably in the privacy of your car, once we’ve left,’ she added pointedly.

Jonathan looked less than pleased by her last comment. ‘You know damned well I can’t leave yet,’ he dismissed impatiently, even as he physically dragged her over to a quieter corner of the room.

‘Could that possibly be because you haven’t yet had a chance to say hello to Lucien Steele?’ Thia felt stung into taunting him as she rubbed the top of her arm where Jonathan’s fingers had dug so painfully into her flesh that she would probably have bruises to show for it tomorrow. ‘I noticed you and our beautiful hostess were noticeably absent when he arrived.’

‘What does that mean?’ he glowered darkly. ‘And what the hell’s got into you, talking to me like that?’

‘Nothing’s got into me.’ She gave a weary sigh, knowing that not all of her frustration with this evening was Jonathan’s fault. Her nerves were still rattled from that encounter with Lucien Steele on the balcony—to a degree that she could still feel the seductive brush of those chiselled lips against her cheek and the warmth of his breath brushing against her skin... ‘I just want to leave, that’s all.’ She grimaced.

‘I’ve told you that I can’t go just yet.’ Jonathan scowled down at her.

‘Then I’ll just have to go downstairs and get a taxi—’

‘It’s a cab,’ he corrected impatiently. ‘And you aren’t going anywhere until I say you can,’ he added determinedly.

Thia looked at him searchingly, noting the reckless brightness of his eyes and the unaccustomed flush to his cheeks. ‘Have you been drinking...?’

‘It’s a party. Of course I’ve been drinking!’ Jonathan eyed her impatiently.

‘In that case I’m definitely taking a cab back to your apartment,’ Thia stated firmly.

‘I said you’ll leave when I say you can!’ His eyes glittered.

Thia’s cheeks warmed as she stared at him incredulously. ‘Who do you think you are to talk to me like that?’ she gasped.

Jonathan’s expression darkened. ‘I think I’m the man who paid for you to come to New York!’

Her eyes widened incredulously. ‘And you believe that gives you the right to tell me what I can and can’t do?’

‘I think it gives me the right to do with you whatever the hell I feel like doing!’ he sneered.

Thia felt the colour drain from her cheeks at the unmistakable threat in his voice. ‘I don’t know what’s got into you, Jonathan.’ Her voice shook as she tried to hold back tears of hurt. ‘But I do know I don’t like you like this. You’re obviously drunk. Or something.’ She wasn’t a hundred per cent certain that reckless brightness in his eyes and the flush to his cheeks had been caused by alcohol alone...

Jonathan certainly wasn’t behaving this evening—hadn’t been for the past four days, if she was completely honest—like the charming and uncomplicated friend she had known in England...

She drew in a deep breath. ‘I think it’s best if I leave now, Jonathan. We can talk later. Or tomorrow—’

‘You’re staying put, damn it.’ He reached out and grasped the top of her arm once again, the fingers of his other hand like a vice about her wrist as he twisted painfully.

Thia gave a gasp at the pain he was deliberately—viciously—inflicting on both her arm and her wrist. ‘You’re hurting me, Jonathan,’ she breathed, very much aware of the other guests in the room and the curious sideways glances that were now being sent their way.

‘Then stop being so damned difficult! I’ve said you aren’t going anywhere and that’s an end to it—’ Jonathan broke off abruptly, his gaze moving past Thia and over her left shoulder and his eyes widening before he abruptly released her arm and wrist and forced a charmingly boyish smile to his lips.

Thia’s spine stiffened as she guessed from the sudden pause in the conversation around them, the expectant stillness in the air and the way her skin tingled in awareness, exactly who was standing behind her.

Only one man had the power to cause such awe in New York’s elite and the ability to possess the very air about him...

The same man who exuded such sexual attraction that it caused every nerve-ending in Thia’s body to react and strain towards the pull of that raw sensuality!

Lucien Steele...

* * *

Lucien had remained out on the balcony for several more minutes after Cynthia Hammond had walked away from him, giving the hardness of his arousal time to subside even as he pondered the unexpected fierceness of his physical reaction to her.

Her skin—that pearly, luminescent skin—had been as soft and perfect to the light caress of his lips against her cheek as he had imagined it would be, and he could still smell her perfume...something lightly floral along with underlying warmly desirable woman. The same warmth that had surrounded him, enveloped him, as he’d shrugged back into his evening jacket ready for returning to the Carews’ party as if the woman herself were wrapped around him.

Lucien couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a visceral reaction to a woman that he wanted to take her right here and right now. If he ever had...

All the more surprising because Cynthia Hammond, at little over five feet tall, ebony-haired and probably only twenty or so, wasn’t the type of woman he usually found himself attracted to. He had always preferred tall, leggy blondes, and women nearer to his own age of thirty-five. Women who knew and accepted that his interest in them was purely physical, and that it would be fleeting.

Cynthia Hammond looked too young, too inexperienced to accept the intensity of passion Lucien would demand from her even for the brief time that his interest lasted. And it would be brief—a week or two, a month at the most—before Lucien once again found himself feeling restless, bored with having the same woman in his bed.

No, better by far, he had decided, that he stay well away from the too-young and too-inexperienced Cynthia Hammond.

And he would have done so if, when he had finally stepped back into the Carews’ apartment, Dex hadn’t felt it necessary to take him to one side and inform him of the way Jonathan Miller had verbally berated Cynthia Hammond the moment she’d returned to the party, before physically dragging her away.

Did that mean that Jonathan Miller, the star of one of the television series currently airing on Lucien’s own network, was the friend Cyn had come to the party with?

Watching the couple as they’d stood together on the opposite side of the room, talking softly but obviously heatedly, Lucien had been unable to stop the narrowing of his eyes when he saw the way Cyn suddenly paled. His fists had clenched at his sides as he’d realised that Miller had a painful grip on her arm and his other hand was twisting her wrist, despite Cyn’s obvious efforts to free herself. The thought of a single bruise marring the pearly perfection of her skin had been enough to send Lucien striding forcefully across the room.

Jonathan Miller was one of the reasons Lucien was back in New York at the moment. The actor’s behaviour this past few months had become a definite cause for concern and required that Lucien intervene personally after receiving information that the verbal warning he had given Miller six weeks ago, about his drug habit and the affair he was having with his married co-star—the wife of the show’s director—had made little difference to the other man’s behaviour.

Another private meeting with Jonathan Miller would have to wait until tomorrow. At the moment Lucien was more concerned with the aggressive way the younger man was currently behaving towards Cyn. No matter how intense or demanding Lucien’s own physical needs might be, he would never deliberately hurt a woman—he much preferred to give pleasure rather than pain—and he wouldn’t tolerate another man behaving in that way in his presence, either.

His gaze settled on Cyn as she stood with her bared shoulders turned towards him. ‘Are you ready to leave now...?’ he prompted huskily.

Thia’s heart leapt into her throat as Lucien Steele reiterated his invitation to leave the party with him, as he offered to take her away from this nightmare. Away from Jonathan. A Jonathan who was becoming unrecognisable as the charming man she had met two years ago—a man she had thought was her friend.

But friends didn’t deliberately hurt each other, and the top of her arm still ached from where Jonathan’s fingers had dug so painfully into her flesh just seconds ago, and her wrist was sore from where he had twisted it so viciously. Not only had he hurt her, but he had frightened her too when he had spoken to her so threateningly. And it shamed her, embarrassed her, to think that Lucien Steele might have witnessed that physical and verbal attack.

‘Cyn...?’

She could see the confusion in Jonathan’s eyes and he was the one to answer the other man lightly. ‘I think you’ve made a mistake, Mr Steele. This is Thia Hammond, my—’

‘Cyn...?’

Long, elegant fingers slipped possessively, gently beneath her elbow and Lucien Steele continued to ignore the other man as he came to stand beside her. Thia felt that now familiar shiver down the length of her spine just at the touch of those possessive fingers against her skin, accompanied by the compulsion in Lucien Steele’s husky voice. She could actually feel that compulsion as that voice willed her to look up at him.

She turned slowly, much like a marionette whose strings were being pulled, her lids widening, pupils expanding, and all the air suddenly sucked from her lungs as she took her first clear look at Lucien Steele in the glare of light from the chandeliers above them.

Oh. My. God.

She had thought him mesmerising, compelling, as they had stood outside together in the moonlight, but that was as nothing compared to the intensity of the magnetism he exuded in the brightly lit sitting room of the Carews’ apartment. So much so that even this huge room, the size of a tennis court, seemed too small to hold all that raw and savage power.

His hair was so deep a black it appeared almost blue beneath the lights of the chandelier, and his bronzed face was beautifully sculptured. His high, intelligent brow, the sharp blade of a nose between high cheekbones, and his mouth—oh, God, his mouth!—were sinfully, decadently chiseled. His top lip was slightly fuller than the bottom—an indication of the sensuality he had exuded when they were outside together on the balcony?—and his jaw was square and determined, darkened by the shadow of a dark stubble.

It was the face of a warrior, a marauder, a man who took what he wanted and to hell with whoever or whatever stood in his way.

As if that savagely beautiful face wasn’t enough, his perfectly tailored evening suit—had Thia really had that gorgeous jacket wrapped about her just minutes ago?—and white silk shirt showed the perfection of his widely muscled shoulders and chest, his tapered waist, powerful thighs and long, lean legs encased in matching black trousers above those soft Italian leather shoes she had referred to so scathingly such a short time ago.

All the trappings of urbanity, in fact—an urbanity that was dispelled the moment she looked at that handsomely savage face!

A face that was dominated by those amazing and compelling silver eyes surrounded by long and silky dark lashes.

Those same compelling silver eyes now held Thia’s own gaze captive, hostage, and refused to release her until she acquiesced, surrendered to that raw and demanding power...


CHAPTER THREE

‘CYN...?’ LUCIEN QUESTIONED for the third and last time—and that was twice more than he would have allowed any other woman.

If Cyn Hammond ignored him for a third time then he would take it that she was a willing participant in Miller’s abusive treatment. It wasn’t to Lucien’s personal taste, but that was Cyn’s business—not his. No matter how much he might desire her himself...

‘Thia?’ Jonathan Miller looked totally confused by this whole encounter.

Lucien’s eyes moved past Cyn to the other man, hardening to steel as he pinned Miller with his razor-sharp gaze. Bruises were already forming on Cyn’s arm where Miller had held her too tightly just minutes ago, and her wrist looked red and sore. An unforgivable assault, as far as Lucien was concerned, on the perfection of that pearly unblemished skin.

‘You hurt her, Miller,’ he rasped harshly, his own fingers curling reassuringly about Cyn’s elbow as he felt the way she still trembled. An indication that she really wasn’t happy about Miller’s rough treatment of her...

The other man’s face flushed with anger—an emotion he quickly masked behind the boyishly charming smile that was currently holding American television audiences so enrapt, but succeeded only in leaving Lucien cold.

‘Thia and I have had a slight misunderstanding, that’s all—’

‘It was your misunderstanding, Jonathan, not mine.’ Cyn was the one to answer coldly and Lucien felt her straighten determinedly. ‘Mr Steele has very kindly offered to drive me home, and I’ve decided to accept his offer.’

There were two things wrong with that statement as far as Lucien was concerned. One, he knew he was far from kind. Two, he had offered to take Cyn for a drink somewhere quieter than the Carews’ apartment—not to drive her home. Especially if that ‘home’ should also happen to be Miller’s apartment...

But the details could be sorted out later. For the moment Lucien just wanted to get Cyn away from here. He could still feel the slight trembling of her slender but curvaceous body. Those cobalt blue eyes were dark, there was an enticing flush to her cheeks, her pouting lips were moist and parted, and those deliciously full breasts were once again swelling temptingly against the bodice of her gown as she breathed.

And Lucien could think of a much better use for all that pent up emotion than anger...

‘How do the two of you even know each other?’ Jonathan Miller scowled darkly.

‘If you’ll excuse us, Miller?’ Lucien didn’t spare the other man so much as a glance, let alone answer him, as he turned to give Dex a slight nod of his head. He held Cyn to his side by a light but firm grasp of her elbow as he walked away, the other guests immediately clearing a pathway for them to cross the room to the Carews’ private elevator in the hallway.

‘What the hell is going on—?’

Lucien gave a cold smile of satisfaction as he heard Miller’s protest cut short, knowing that Dex would have responded to his silent instruction and, in his own inimitable and deadly style, prevented the actor from attempting to follow the two of them. Lucien’s smile hardened, his eyes chilling to ice as he thought of the conversation he was going to have with Jonathan Miller tomorrow. A conversation that would now include a discussion on the other man’s treatment of the delicately lovely woman at his side...

* * *

Thia had no idea what she was doing, agreeing to leave the Carews’ party with the dangerously compelling Lucien Steele, of all people. Especially when he had made his physical interest in her so obvious during the time the two of them had been outside on the balcony together!

She just wanted to get away from here. From a Jonathan she no longer recognised. And from the curious glances of all the other guests as they observed the tension between the three of them—some surreptitiously, some blatantly.

But was leaving with the dangerously attractive Lucien Steele, a man who was so arrogant she wasn’t sure she even liked him, really the answer...?

‘Shouldn’t we say goodbye to the Carews before we leave?’ she prompted hesitantly as Lucien Steele pressed a button and the lift doors opened.

‘Dex will deal with it,’ he dismissed unconcernedly.

‘I—then shouldn’t we at least wait for him...?’ Thia made no move to enter the lift, her nervousness increasing the longer she spent in this man’s compelling company.

‘He’ll make his own way down.’ Lucien Steele released her elbow as he indicated she should enter the lift ahead of him.

Thia still hesitated. She wanted to get away from Jonathan, yes, but she now realised she felt no safer with Lucien Steele—if for a totally different reason!

‘Changed your mind...?’ he drawled mockingly.

Her chin rose at the taunt. ‘No.’ She stepped determinedly into the lift, her gaze averted as Lucien Steele stepped in beside her and pressed the button for the mirror-walled lift to descend.

Thia shot him several nervous glances from beneath her lashes as he stood broodingly on the other side of the lift, feeling that now familiar quiver trembling down her spine as she found herself surrounded by numerous mirrored images of him. This man was impressive under any circumstances, but she stood no chance of remaining immune to him in the confines of a lift.

Lucien Steele was sin incarnate, right from the top of his glossy hair—so much blacker than Thia’s own, like shiny blue-black silk, the sort of tousled, overlong hair that made Thia’s fingers itch to thread their way through it—to the soles of those Italian leather shoes.

He was a man so totally out of Thia’s league that she had no business being there with him at all, let alone imagining threading her fingers through that delicious blue-black hair.

‘Ask.’

Thia’s startled gaze moved from that silky dark hair to the sculptured perfection of his face. Once again she felt that jolt of physical awareness as she found herself ensnared by the piercing intensity of those silver eyes. ‘Um—sorry?’

He shrugged. ‘You have a question you want to ask me.’

‘I do...?’

His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘You do.’

She chewed briefly on her bottom lip. ‘Your hair—it’s beautiful. I—I’ve never seen hair quite that blue-black colour before...?’

He raised a brow equally as dark. ‘Are you sure you want that to be your one question?’

Thia blinked. ‘My one question?’

He gave an abrupt inclination of his head. ‘Yes.’

She frowned slightly. Surely he wasn’t serious...? ‘I’ve just never seen hair that colour before...’ she repeated nervously. ‘It’s the colour of a starless night sky.’

His mouth twisted derisively. ‘That was a statement, not a question.’

Yes, it was. But this man unnerved Thia to such a degree she couldn’t think straight.

Lucien Steele sighed. ‘Somewhere way back in my ancestry—a couple of hundred years or so ago—my great-great-grandfather is reputed to have been an Apache Indian who carried off a rancher’s wife before impregnating her,’ he dismissed derisively. ‘The black hair has appeared in several generations since.’

Dear Lord, this man really was a warrior! Not an axe-wielding, fur-covered Viking, or a kilt-wearing, claymore-brandishing Celt, but a clout-covered, bow-and-arrow-carrying, bareback horse-riding Native American Indian!

It was far too easy for Thia to picture him as such—with that inky-black hair a long waterfall down his back, his muscled and gleaming chest and shoulders bare, just that clout-cloth between him and the horse he rode, the bareness of his long muscled legs gripping—

‘Surely I haven’t shocked you into silence?’ he taunted.

Thia knew by his mocking expression that he wanted her to be shocked, that Lucien Steele was deliberately trying to unnerve her with tales of Apache warriors carrying off innocent women for the sole purpose of ravishing them.

In the same way he was doing the modern equivalent of carrying her off? Also for ravishment...?

Her chin rose. ‘Not in the least.’

Those silver eyes continued to mock her. ‘My father is a native New Yorker, but my mother is French—hence I was given the name Lucien. My turn now,’ he added softly.

She gave a wary start. ‘Your turn to do what...?’ she prompted huskily.

Those chiselled lips curled into a derisive smile as he obviously heard the tremble in her voice. ‘Ask you a question.’

She moistened dry lips. ‘Which is...?’

‘Cyn, if you don’t stop looking at me like that then I’m going to have to stop the elevator and take you right now.’

As if to back up his statement he pressed a button and halted the lift’s descent, before crossing the floor with all the grace of the predator he undoubtedly was and standing just inches in front of her.

Thia’s eyes had widened, both at his actions and at the raw desire she could hear beneath the harshness of his tone. ‘I—you can’t just stop the lift like that...!’

‘I believe I already did,’ he dismissed arrogantly.

Thia found herself totally unable to look away from the intensity of that glittering silver gaze as Lucien looked down at her from between narrowed lids, her cheeks flushed, her heart beating wildly—apprehensively?—in her chest. ‘I—that wasn’t a question, either.’

‘No.’

She winced. ‘How was I looking at you...?’

‘As if you’d like to rip my clothes from my body before wrapping your legs about my waist as I push you up against the wall and take you!’ His voice was a low and urgent rasp.

Thia’s breath caught in her throat as she imagined herself doing any or all of those things, her cheeks flushing, burning. ‘I don’t think—’

‘It’s probably better if you don’t.’

Lucien Steele’s gaze continued to hold hers captive.

She stepped away instinctively, only to feel her back pressing up against the mirrored wall. Lucien Steele dogged her steps until he again stood mere inches away from her and slowly raised his hands to place them on the mirror either side of her head. Lowering his head, he stared down at her with those compelling silver eyes, causing Thia to once again moisten her lips with the tip of her tongue.

‘I advise you not to do that again unless you’re willing to take the consequences!’ he rasped harshly.

Thia’s tongue froze on her parted lips as she was once again beset by the feeling of being trapped in the headlights of a car—or, more accurately, the glittering compulsion of Lucien Steele’s gaze.

Her throat moved as she swallowed before speaking. ‘Consequences?’

He nodded abruptly. ‘I’d be more than willing to participate in your fantasy.’ His jaw was tight, and desire gleamed in his eyes.

It was a depth of desire Thia had never encountered before, and one that caused her breath to hitch in her throat and her skin to flush with heat: a single-minded depth of desire that made her feel like running for the hills!

‘What’s Miller to you?’ Lucien Steele prompted abruptly.

She blinked long dark lashes. ‘Is that your question?’

He bared his teeth in a parody of a smile as he nodded. ‘Contrary to my Apache ancestor, I make it a rule never to take another man’s woman.’

‘‘Take another man’s’—!’ She frowned. ‘You really are something of a barbarian, aren’t you?’

Rather than feeling insulted at the accusation, as she had intended, Lucien Steele instead bared his teeth in a wolfish smile. ‘You have no idea.’

Oh, yes, Thia definitely had an idea. More than an idea. And her response to this man’s raw sexuality terrified the life out of her. Almost as much as it aroused her...

‘Cyn?’ Lucien pressed forcefully.

She shrugged bare shoulders, those ivory breasts swelling invitingly against her gown. ‘I already told you—Jonathan is just a friend—’

‘A friend who had no hesitation in hurting you?’ Lucien glared his displeasure as he looked down to where dark smudges were already appearing on the smooth paleness of her arm. Her wrist was still slightly red too. ‘Who left his mark on you?’ he added harshly as he gave in to the temptation to brush his fingertips gently over those darkening smudges.

‘Yes...’ Her bottom lip trembled, as if she were on the verge of crying. ‘I’ve never seen him behave like that before. He was out of control...’ She gave a dazed shake of her head. ‘He’s never behaved aggressively with me before,’ she insisted dully.

‘That’s something, I suppose.’ Lucien nodded abruptly.

‘I—would you please restart the lift now...?’ Those tears were trembling on the tips of her long dark lashes, threatening to overflow.

He was scaring her, damn it!

Because this—his coming on to her so strongly—was too much, too soon after Miller’s earlier aggression.

Or just maybe, despite what she might claim to the contrary, her relationship with Miller wasn’t as innocent as she claimed it to be...?

In Lucien’s experience no woman was as ingenuous as Cyn Hammond appeared to be. Her ingenuousness had encouraged him to reveal more about himself and his family in the last five minutes than he had told anyone for a very long time. Not that Lucien was ashamed of his heritage—it was what it was. It was his private life in general that he preferred to keep exactly that—private.

He straightened abruptly before stepping back. ‘A word of advice, Cyn—you should stay well away from Miller in future. He’s bad news.’

Her expression sharpened. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I believe you’ve more than used up your quota of questions for one evening.’ His expression was grim.

‘But you seem to know something I don’t—’

‘I’m sure I know a lot of things you don’t, Cyn,’ he rasped with finality, before turning to press the button to restart the elevator.

‘Thank you,’ Cyn breathed softly as it resumed its soundless descent.

‘I didn’t do it for you.’ Lucien gave a hard, dismissive smile. ‘The elevator has been stopped between floors for so long now Dex is probably imagining you’ve assassinated me.’

Thia frowned. ‘Is it a defence mechanism, or are you really this arrogant and rude?’

His gaze was hooded as he answered her. ‘Quite a bit of the latter and a whole lot of the former.’

‘That’s what I thought.’ She nodded, able to breathe a little easier now that he wasn’t standing quite so close to her. Well...perhaps not easier. Lucien Steele’s presence was still so overpowering that Thia challenged anyone, man or woman, to be completely relaxed in his company.

He put his hand beneath her elbow again as the lift came to a stop, the doors opening and allowing the two of them to step out into the marble foyer of the luxurious Manhattan apartment building.

Thia’s eyes widened as she saw Dex was already there, waiting for them. ‘How did you...?’

‘Service elevator,’ the man supplied tersely, dismissively, his censorious glance fixed on his employer.

‘Stop looking so disapproving, Dex,’ Lucien Steele drawled. ‘I checked before getting in the elevator: there’s absolutely nowhere that Miss Hammond could hide a knife or a gun beneath that figure-hugging gown.’

Thia felt the colour warm her cheeks. ‘Definitely a lot of the latter,’ she muttered, in reference to their previous conversation and heard Lucien Steele chuckle huskily beside her even as she turned to give the still frowning Dex a smile. ‘Mr Steele does like to have his little joke.’

There was no answering smile from the bodyguard as he opened the door for them to leave. ‘I’ve had the car brought round to the front entrance.’

‘Good,’ Lucien Steele bit out shortly, his hand still beneath Thia’s elbow as he strode towards the black limousine parked beside the pavement, its engine purring softly into life even as Dex moved forward to open the back door for them to get inside.

‘I can get a taxi—a cab—from here,’ Thia assured Lucien Steele quickly. His behaviour in the lift wasn’t conducive to her wanting to get into the back of a limousine with him.

‘Get in.’

That compelling expression was back on Lucien Steele’s face as he raised one black brow, standing to one side as he waited for her to get into the back of the limousine ahead of him.

Thia gave a pained frown. ‘I appreciate your help earlier, but I’d really rather just get a cab from here...’

He didn’t speak again, just continued to look down at her compellingly. Because he was so used to everyone doing exactly as he wished them to, whenever he wished it, he had no doubt Thia was going to get into the limousine.

‘I could always just pick you up and put you inside...?’ Lucien Steele raised dark brows.

‘And I could always scream if you tried to do that.’

‘You could, yes.’ He smiled confidently.

‘Or not,’ Thia muttered as she saw the inflexibility in his challenging gaze.

Sighing, she finally climbed awkwardly into the back of the limousine. She barely had enough time to slide across the other side of the seat before Lucien Steele got in beside her. Dex closed the door behind them before getting into the front of the car beside the driver and the car moved off smoothly into the steady flow of evening traffic.

‘I don’t like being ordered about,’ Thia informed Lucien tightly.

‘No?’

‘No!’ She glared her irritation across the dim interior of the car. The windows were of smoked glass, as was the partition between the front and back of the car. ‘Any more than I suspect you do.’ Once again he was intimidating in the close confines of the car, so big and dark, and she could smell his lemon scent again, the insidious musk of the man himself, all mixed together with the expensive smell of the leather interior of the car.

‘That would depend on the circumstances and on what I was being ordered to do,’ he drawled.

Her irritation deepened along with the blush in her cheeks. ‘Do you think you could get your mind out of the bedroom for two minutes?’





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/carole-mortimer/rumours-on-the-red-carpet/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.