The Best Of The Year - Modern Romance

Was it any wonder men like Bastien had the wrong idea about her?

Suddenly she yearned to speak to her father. To hear his calm, soothing voice. He was the one anchor she clung to when things got bad. But he was in the middle of the Amazonian jungle and their fortnightly phone call wasn’t scheduled for several days.

‘We’re here.’

Bastien thrust the door open and stepped out. Blinking at the brilliant sunlight pouring in, Ana looked out onto a private airstrip.

She’d been so engrossed in the turbulent emotions Bastien aroused in her he might have driven her all the way to Outer Mongolia and she would have been none the wiser.

She glanced at the huge, gleaming jet sitting metres from the car and her heart sank. The Heidecker Corporation’s blue and gold logo emblazoned on the tail brought home to her just how easily she could be crushed by the entity she’d taken on.

But then David had triumphed against Goliath...

She suppressed a bubble of hysteria and watched Bastien’s strong, lengthy stride to the foot of the plane’s steps, where his pilot waited.

She’d never wanted to fight with Bastien. From their first meeting sixteen years ago she’d tried to find friendly common ground with him, despite the dreadful irony of their circumstances. She’d tried myriad ways to prove that she wasn’t his enemy, that they could be friends even as her mother was tearing his family apart. Deep down she’d known he’d resented her—not for her presence in his life, but because behind his chilly façade she’d been able to see the pain that echoed her own. She’d desperately wanted to reach him, to soothe away his pain in the hope that he would do the same for her.

How foolish she’d been...

She stepped out of the car and paused when another vehicle screeched to a halt beside her.

An excited Simone sprang from the vehicle and raced towards her.

‘Oh, Ana, I’m so glad you’re all right! When I heard what had happened I was horrified for you.’

Melodramatically she flung her arms around Ana. Two years younger than Ana, Simone Pascale had arrived in London six months ago from her native France and they’d ended up sharing a flat when Ana had accepted that living with her mother was no longer a viable option.

‘And then these strange men turned up. At first I didn’t know what to think. I mean, I was still super-excited for you and everything, because it’s not, like, every day your flatmate leaves to shack up with a multi-billionaire—’

Ana pulled away. ‘What? I’m not leaving to shack up with anyone. Whatever gave you that idea?’

Simone’s over-bright blue eyes widened. ‘But the pictures outside the court... And the paps were outside the flat, asking me if I knew how long you two had been a couple. I mean, c’est très romantique, non?’

Dread crept up Ana’s spine. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Bastien watching her, eyes narrowed. ‘Simone, what did you say to the reporters?’ she whispered urgently.

‘I said it was the best news ever and that I wished you much happiness... Mon Dieu, are you all right?’

Ana swallowed the sickening bile that had risen in her throat. She reached blindly to reassure Simone and felt her wrist being taken in a firm hold. Heat sizzled up her arm, electrifying her senses and reminding her of her weakness when it came to Bastien.

She pulled at her wrist. He held on tighter.

‘What’s going on here?’ Steel underlined his voice.

‘Nothing,’ Ana interjected quickly, before Simone got a chance to spread her unwelcome news.

Bastien had barely tolerated being linked to her professionally. A romantic link would be even more abhorrent to him.

‘I was just thanking Simone for helping me out.’ Ana stared hard at Simone, who stood gaping at Bastien like a stunned fish.

‘Do you have Miss Duval’s passport?’ Bastien asked her.

Rummaging through her bag, Simone located it and handed it over to him.

‘Merci. That will be all.’

Ana glared at him for the pointed dismissal and turned to Simone. ‘I’ll give you a call later.’

Simone nodded and hugged her again. ‘Hang on to him, Ana. He’s absolutely magnifique!’ she whispered feverishly.

‘Let’s go. I don’t want us to miss our flight slot.’ Bastien’s impatient tone matched his stride across the tarmac.

She hurried up the steps, acutely aware of the shortness of her dress.

Once inside, she just stopped and gaped.

She’d flown in a few private planes with her job, but nothing had come close to the level of luxury accosting her senses now.

Royal blue carpeting stretched as far as the eye could see. Cream club chairs flanked both sides of the aircraft, separated by smooth marble tables on which stood exquisite flower displays and stylish lamps. The shades had been half pulled down over the windows to limit the glare of the late-afternoon sun and the atmosphere inside the craft was one of superb and seriously lavish comfort.

Ana would have been excited at being in such surroundings but for the darts of apprehension racing up and down her spine as once again the sensation of stepping into danger engulfed her.

A stewardess approached, a smile on her face as she greeted them and relieved her of Bastien’s jacket. Weirdly, she felt exposed both inside and out without it. Pushing the feeling away, she murmured her thanks.

Bastien guided her into a chair and sat opposite her, his long legs stretched out on either side of her, imprisoning hers. She clamped her thighs together immediately, her senses screeching their awareness of him.

She thought of changing seats, then impatiently dismissed the idea. As long as he was close there would be no getting away from the discordant emotions bubbling underneath her skin. He’d always had that effect on her. Same as she knew she had an unsettling effect on him. Besides, she refused to let him intimidate her.

She glanced out of the window, feigning interest in the cargo trucks moving around a short distance away. But all too soon they were in the air, with clouds blocking her view of the landscape and taking away her reason for ignoring Bastien.

Steeling herself, she glanced at him.

He lounged in his chair, completely relaxed, eyes fixed on her, an unopened briefcase in front of him. Flushing, she wondered how long he’d been staring at her.

‘Do I make you nervous?’

The laugh forced from her throat sounded false. ‘Of course not. What gave you that idea?’

‘You’re skittish around me. I wonder why,’ he said, almost conversationally.

‘I’m not skittish—just annoyed that I’m tied to you for the next three weeks.’

‘We all have a cross to bear, I suppose.’

She raised her chin. ‘You’re obviously as displeased about this as I am, so why did you vouch for me with the judge? Why not just elect one of your subordinates?’

‘And make them liable should you decide to flee?’

‘You have a very low opinion of me.’ She didn’t know why that hurt so much. ‘Why is that, Bastien? What have I ever done to make you think so little of me?’

‘I think we both know the answer to that.’

Her face flamed. ‘What happened on the yacht—’

‘You mean when you tried to use your body to change my mind about firing you?’

‘That wasn’t what I was doing...’ She floundered and stopped as the memory tripped to life.

The moment she’d turned on the boat and seen Bastien standing on the deck, watching her, every nerve in her body had sprung to life.

The boy she’d known had grown into a breathtaking specimen of a man, with a commanding presence that had reached across the distance and held her captive. The smile she hadn’t even been aware she’d given had slowly died as a deep, decadent awareness had arced between them. There’d been nothing boyish about the look in his eyes when he’d reached her.

‘What are you doing here?’ Fierce, flaying words—whispered through incredibly sensual lips.

It had taken her a minute to gather her senses. ‘Hello to you too, Bastien.’

His mouth had compressed. ‘Answer me.’

‘I’m working—or at least I will be when you allow the crew to return. You’ve sent them away because...?’ She turned away, because she couldn’t look into those grey eyes without her midriff fluttering madly as if she was in the midst of a fever.

‘You shouldn’t have been given this commission.’

A lance of unsettling anger made her whirl about. He stood right behind her, so close her hair slid across his jaw. ‘Why not? Because you still have a chip on your shoulder about our past?’

His nostrils flared. ‘No. Because the brief called for someone conservative—not someone who...’

His deliberate pause, the drift of his eyes over her scantily clad body had sent flares of awareness and dark arousal all over her.

Her body’s reaction shamed her, but she didn’t give him the benefit of knowing he unsettled her.

Using her best catwalk pose, she planted her hands on her hips and cocked one hip. ‘Someone who makes men want to drown their women in your diamonds? You don’t want someone who makes wives, girlfriends and women who know what they want hit the speed dial for their nearest jeweller the moment the ads are aired? I’m sorry—I thought you were in this business to make money?’

Her smirk and her taunts were purely for self-preservation. The combination of magnetism, mild derision and lust she could see in his eyes deeply unsettled her.

As did his arctic smile.

‘My vision for the product you’re promoting isn’t quite what you have in mind.’

‘Really?’ The tilt of her head had been well-practised for the camera. ‘I read a survey recently. Next to pure silk, women voted diamonds as the sexiest thing to wear against their skin. So perhaps your vision needs to be a little less...Victorian and more sexy.’

He raised an eyebrow and slowly stalked her, not stopping until she was backed against the railing that overlooked the lower deck. Silence cloaked the upper deck, the rest of the crew having been dispatched somewhere below deck. Above them, stars glittered in the sultry evening. All around her Bastien’s scent and imposing presence sent her heart-rate soaring.

‘Are you telling me how to do my job, Miss Duval?’ He caged her in, hands on either side of her, and treated her to narrow-eyed scrutiny.

‘Just a little friendly advice. Sex sells—or haven’t you heard.’

‘And you’re an expert in that field?’

She gasped, then tried to rein in her temper. ‘I’m an expert at what I do. If you weren’t sure who your target audience were perhaps you should’ve stuck to heading banks and building hotels.’

His icy imprecation rumbled along her nerves. ‘You haven’t stopped needing to play with fire, ma petite.’

‘And you haven’t stopped staring down your nose at me like I’m some inconvenience you can’t wait to be rid of. Would it hurt you to be nice for once in your life?’

He froze. ‘Nice? Believe me, cherie, when I look at you, “nice” is the last thing I feel.’ The words were whisper-soft but filled with a mixture of censure, need and puzzlement.

Her next question was inevitable—as was her need to draw even closer to that electrifying orbit. Before she could stop herself, she’d lifted her hand to his taut cheek, traced that stern jaw to the corner of his mouth. His sharp exhale made her shudder.

‘What do you feel?’

‘You don’t want to know,’ he muttered thickly.

‘Maybe I do. Maybe for once I want to hear you vocalise what you actually feel, Bastien.’

He closed his eyes for a split second. ‘Mon Dieu...’

She rose on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his, the need a wild clamour that wouldn’t be stopped. His hands clamped on her immediately. One at her waist, the other in her hair. He held her prisoner and deepened the kiss, his groan a rough, hungry sound. He branded her with his mouth and his hands and she willingly gave him complete access.

It might have been seconds or minutes later that she found herself on her back on a lounger, his head between her bared breasts, her swimsuit bunched somewhere around her waist. Her hoarse cry when his fingers slid beneath her suit to tease her wet heat made him raise his head. His eyes were molten with intense need.

‘You want to know how I feel? Right now I want to take you, possess you, make you forget every other man who has come before me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’ve been under my skin since the first time I saw you. A precocious kid who wouldn’t take no for an answer. You watched me with those soulful eyes and dogged my every step until I couldn’t move without you tripping me up. You’re still under my skin. Everywhere I look you’re on a billboard or on the side of a bus. Except now you make me ache—make me crave things I do not want to crave.’

‘And you hate me for that?’

His smile made her breath catch.

‘I hate that you have a certain...power over me. I cannot allow that.’ His fingers moved and his mouth closed over her nipple.

She shuddered as his imposing erection pressed deeper into her belly. ‘So...what? You’re going to use your position to bring me to heel? Or are you going to use sex?’

A part of her couldn’t deny the thought excited her, but another part recoiled from the idea.

He froze and locked eyes with her. A frown slowly creased his brow, then his gaze drifted over her semi-nude body. He swallowed and shook his head, as if divesting himself from the clutches of a bad dream.

He started to rise but she locked her fingers behind his head.

‘Bastien...’ She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say but she hated the look in his eyes.

He firmly disentangled himself from her and stood. ‘I’m ashamed to admit that was my intention.’ He shoved a hand through his hair. ‘What did you say—sex sells? How very right you are.’

The delivery was cold. And although most of the censure in his voice was directed at himself, a healthy dose spilled her way.

Rushing to rise and right her clothes, she felt fury cut through her lust haze. ‘You can’t fire me for doing my job, Bastien!’

He turned away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. ‘No, but I will keep a close eye on you from now on.’

‘Go ahead. And be sure to send me a thank-you bonus when your sales go through the roof.’ Burning at the thought of that day, Ana glared at Bastien. ‘So things got out of hand before we could stop ourselves? That’s what you get for being so vile!’

He stared back for several seconds, then shrugged. ‘Let’s blame my unexpected discovery of just who it was my marketing people had chosen for my campaign.’

She frowned. ‘You mean you didn’t know?’

‘I’m not in the habit of micromanaging my businesses. You, on the other hand, knew who you would be working for. Why did you take the assignment?’

‘Because I foolishly hoped the past could remain in the past.’ She locked eyes with him, saw the stormy emotions swirling in his grey eyes. ‘Surely you can’t blame me for what happened sixteen years ago?’

She hated herself for caring enough to want to know, but the idea that they would be locked in that volatile winter for ever made her heart lurch sickeningly.

For several seconds he said nothing. Then, ‘No, but it doesn’t make the reminder of that time any less palatable.’

His response dashed the tiny burgeoning hope she’d harboured.

‘So you’re saying you’ll never look at me and not remember what happened then?

‘Non.’

An icy numbness settled over her. ‘Well, I guess that’s definitive enough. Oh, and for what it’s worth, I never set out to use my body to convince you to let me keep my job. What happened...just happened.’

‘A lot of things “just happen” with you around, I’m discovering.’

Anger washed away the numbness. ‘Oh, screw you, Bastien,’ she flung at him, then flushed from head to toe at her unfortunate choice of words.

He laughed—the sound as unexpected as it was pleasing. She gave in to a reluctant smile and breathed easier.

* * *

‘I asked for your suitcase to be delivered to the cabin. Perhaps you’d like to change once we reach cruising altitude?’ he suggested, bringing her back to the present.

His consideration made her soften. Nodding, she relaxed her taut muscles a fraction—only to tense again as her bare leg rubbed against his calf. Heat dragged low in her belly and a familiar tingling shot to the apex of her thighs.

Clamping her legs tightly together, she muttered, ‘Thank you.’ The quicker she was out of his presence, out of this dress and back in the comfort of jeans and a top, the better she’d feel.

Grabbing a magazine from the nearby stack, she flipped blindly through the glossy pages.

‘There’s also a shower if you wish to make use of it.’

She froze, refusing to think of Bastien naked, wet or otherwise. But a persistent image took root, imprinted itself on her brain and sent her heart-rate soaring.

His added, ‘It’s not large, but it’ll do,’ caused her hand to tremble so badly she dropped the magazine.

What on earth was wrong with her?

She darted a glance at him to see if he’d witnessed her discomfort. His nostrils were pinched, his jaw clenched, his eyes a shade that reminded her of how he looked when he was aroused.

She tried to look away. His gaze held her prisoner. Images of him underneath a shower, naked, flooded her mind. Ripples of desire surged through her abdomen, radiated outwards until her limbs felt weak, leaden.

Slowly his eyes swirled with heat, like the smoke from a rumbling volcano just before it erupted. She didn’t have much experience when it came to men, but an unavoidable by-product of her profession was learning very quickly to interpret lust.

Bastien’s eyes reflected a danger that would consume her given half a chance. Her breath locked; that secret, swollen place between her legs throbbed harder.

His gaze dropped to her exposed thighs and lingered for endless seconds, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Heat continued to drag through her. Unable to stay still, she slowly crossed her legs.

Bastien followed the movement, his eyes roving over her until she wanted to scream...scream something at him.

The loud ‘ding’ signalling the seatbelts sign being turned off jerked her out of the dangerous quicksand. A moment later the stewardess pushed back the curtain and stepped into the cabin.

Dazed, Ana watched Bastien’s eyelids sweep down, veil his expression. Pressing a button in the wall, he pulled out a laptop and slid it open.

She envied his steely control, wished she could harvest a tiny fraction of it and not feel as if the maelstrom of sensations buffeting her body would rip her in two.

The stewardess set down a tray of drinks. Before she could serve them, Bastien said, ‘Mathilde, please show Miss Duval to the bedroom.’ His voice too was smooth as silk.

‘Of course.’

‘We’ll eat when you return,’ he said, without looking up from his papers.

Ana struggled to her feet, irritated and more than a little bit confused.

The last thing she needed was to develop any feelings for Bastien. But for the life of her she couldn’t seem to draw on the composed, unruffled demeanour she usually projected for the camera.

The thought scared her more than she cared to admit. Was Bastien right? Would they never be able to be in each other’s presence without the past rearing its dangerous head? And would this insane attraction eventually whizz itself out of control? Or would it grow stronger, like a tornado, devouring everything in its path?

She summoned a smile when Mathilde indicated the cabin door to her left.

In a large mahogany-panelled bedroom, Ana found herself alone for the first time since being taken from her cell that morning. She froze when she realised she hadn’t even thought of her predicament for the last hour.

Her hands trembled as she grappled with the realisation that Bastien, despite his high-handed and autocratic attitude, made her feel...safe.

It was the same feeling that had compelled her to continually seek him out at his parents’ house sixteen years ago—had made her ignore his keep out demeanour.

Never mind the excitement bubbling underneath her skin, the heat scouring her abdomen in that dangerous, delicious manner whenever she was close to him, her underlying feeling with Bastien was that he would never deliberately hurt her.

Which was completely irrational, of course.

Hoping that time away from his unsettling presence would restore her equilibrium. along with her common sense, she shed the offensive silk dress and entered the bathroom.

What it lacked in space it made up for in opulence and accessories. Cosmetics designed for both sexes adorned the shelf space. For a charged, insane moment her mind conjured up Bastien sharing this bedroom with a lover, showering with her in this bathroom.

With a hiss of impatience she stripped off her panties and stepped beneath the warm spray. What Bastien did with his lovers was nothing to do with her.

Soaping her body, she washed quickly, resolutely refusing to think about the man who could flip her world upside down with minimal effort and thinking instead of who had gone to such lengths to frame her.

For a wild moment Ana wondered if her mother had been behind the frame-up. But that didn’t make sense. Lily Duval would never mess with the source of her income. Getting Ana thrown off the DBH campaign would attract the sort of scandal her mother craved, but even she wouldn’t bite the hand that fed her.

Which meant there were no other suspects in the frame.

Sighing, Ana turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. Padding to the bedroom, she unzipped her suitcase...

And flicked through the packed clothes with growing horror.

The jeans, cotton tops and wool-blend sweaters she’d expected were nowhere in sight. Instead she pulled out the skimpy outfits from her last fashion show, saucy lingerie from a recent underwear shoot and silk, lace, sheer chiffon see-through wisps of nothing that made up the theme of this year’s spring/summer collection.

Sinking onto the bed, Ana crushed a silk bra in her fist.

It didn’t take a genius to work out that Simone, believing Ana was embarking on a torrid love affair, had packed clothes fit for a woman out to drive her lover crazy with lust.

She choked off a feverish bubble of laughter and dug through her case with renewed vigour, a cry of relief escaping when she grasped what felt like denim.

Pulling it out, her spirits sank lower. The material of the jeans was slashed in so many suggestive places it was downright indecent. She’d modelled them two weeks ago, on a shoot for an up-and-coming designer. Once on, they would cling like a second skin, the stretchy material revealing even more flesh.

Another frenzied search produced a soft cashmere sweater. The batwing design covered her arms, although it left her with an exposed cleavage and back, and its dramatic style made wearing a bra nonsensical. Not great, but at least it covered her midriff.

Curbing a growl of frustration, she passed a brush through her hair, trying not to look into the floor-length mirror next to the bathroom door as she did so.

She gathered her hair on top of her head and pinned it in place. Bastien already thought she used her body to achieve her own ends. His opinion of her couldn’t sink any lower. Besides, she’d endured worse looks from men in the past.

But none of them made your pulse hammer so hard, or made you aware of every erratic breath you took.

Pursing her lips, she grasped the door handle and opened it.

Bastien’s huge frame filled the doorway.

‘Are you stalking me?’ she snapped.

His mouth quirked. ‘I was beginning to wonder whether you’d launched yourself out of the nearest air lock.’ His penetrating gaze captured hers and something throbbed to life in her chest.