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However, from Matt’s appreciative glance, as he ran his eyes over her slim figure and long, freshly washed blonde hair, falling in a pale stream of liquid gold down over her shoulders, he didn’t seem too disappointed as, at precisely seven-thirty, he ushered her through the front door of the hotel, and into his chauffeur-driven limousine.
With its comfortable chairs and tables arranged around a glamorous marble pool, the restaurant was certainly living up to its reputation for being one of the ‘in’ places to eat in New York.
But what no one had ever told her, Samantha thought, gazing around at the soft lighting, the shimmering silver beads over the windows and the discreet waiters gliding silently around the room, was just how very romantic it all was. But maybe that was because, for her, the whole evening was fast taking on an air of unreality and increasing enchantment.
How could she have guessed that, despite the passage of so many years, both she and Matt would still seem to be on exactly the same wavelength, as if absolutely nothing had changed between them?
But, of course, that couldn’t possibly be true. Not when they’d gone their different ways, for such a long time. Which meant that she was going to have to be very careful.
The fact that they were both laughing at the same silly jokes, and actively enjoying snippets of business gossip about low doings in high places, didn’t really mean that much in the scheme of things. And if she was totally astounded to find that she still found him devastatingly attractive and—to be utterly frank—had difficulty suppressing an insane desire to throw herself into his arms, it was highly unlikely that he felt the same way.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t a clue as to exactly what Matt was thinking. Cool, calm and utterly charming, he was clearly setting out to give her an enjoyable evening. But, even while relating how, as a young professor at Oxford, he’d been head-hunted by an American bank, intent on setting up an economic ‘think tank’ to look at future economic trends—before recently joining his present company as chairman and chief executive—he gave no sign of how he felt about her, or their past relationship.
It was no wonder that their passionate affair had ended in tears, Samantha acknowledged with a heavy, inward sigh. Any romantic attachment between young students and their older professors had always been heavily frowned on by the university authorities. And now, with the aid of hindsight, she could see that Matt had undoubtedly acted quite correctly, both to protect his own academic position and also her future career.
However, the fact that she’d been utterly devastated when he’d so abruptly and cruelly terminated their relationship didn’t seem to make any difference. He was still, for her, the most attractive man she’d ever known.
Oh, Lord! Maybe it was the amount of wine which she’d consumed which was causing her to feel so incredibly weak and light-headed? Whatever the reason, she must... she really must pull herself together, Samantha told herself desperately, her fingers tightening convulsively around the stern of her delicate, crystal wine goblet as she struggled to clear her mind.
Unfortunately, it was proving extremely difficult to do so. How could she hope to banish the increasingly erotic, sensual memories, when they were sitting so close to one another? She was only human, for heaven’s sake! Every slight movement of Matt’s tall figure—each accidental brush of his hand, or the lightest touch of his powerful thigh against her own—made it virtually impossible not to recall the hot, fiery excitement of their lovemaking, all those years ago.
‘OK, Sam.’ His voice broke into her distracted thoughts. ‘That’s quite enough about me. What have you been doing for the past nine years?’ Matt drawled with a quizzical gleam in his eyes.
‘Well...’ she began, taking a deep breath and frantically attempting to ignore the almost overpowering, rampant sex appeal of this highly disturbing man. ‘It’s been madly hectic, of course. I’m now managing the pension funds of several large companies, and—’
‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ He interrupted her with a quick, dismissive wave of his long, tanned fingers. ‘I’m far more interested in your private life. For instance, I noted that there was no mention of a husband on your CV...?’
‘Well...’ she murmured, before taking a long, slow sip of her wine, her brain racing swiftly into overdrive as she frantically tried to think of an answer to his question.
How on earth, at this stage of the evening, could she possibly tell Matt the truth? He was bound to want to know what lay behind the break-up of her very brief, utterly disastrous marriage.
Agreeing to wed the painter, Alan Gifford, while still madly in love with Matt, had to be absolutely the worst decision she’d ever taken. On the rebound from their passionate affair, and still suffering from the agony and torment of his brutal rejection, she clearly hadn’t been in her right mind. How else to explain the fact that she had known her marriage was doomed, even as she’d walked down the aisle? That her predominant impulse had been an infantile desire to show Matt that she didn’t care. That even if he didn’t want her, or still find her attractive, there were plenty of men out there who did.
Oh, no... it was all far too embarrassing. She simply couldn’t face the shame of telling Matt what a fool she’d been. And definitely not here and now... in this glamorous restaurant. Surely the last place in which to relate such a miserably unhappy period in her life.
Despite knowing that she might well come to bitterly regret not telling him the truth—and deliberately closing her mind to the small voice of sanity, predicting trouble in store—Samantha took a deep breath and shook her head.
‘No. . .I’m not married,’ she said, comforting herself with the thought that she was, in fact, speaking the absolute truth. ‘I’ve obviously had some serious boyfriends, of course, but...’
‘Well, yes... I should think so,’ he drawled smoothly, his deeply hooded green eyes sweeping over her lovely face and long, newly washed blonde hair. ‘Is there anyone important in your life at the moment?’
‘No. . .er. . .not really,’ she muttered, bitterly aware of her cheeks reddening as she tried to avoid his gaze. Swiftly deciding to turn the spotlight away from herself, she asked, ‘And what about you?’
‘I’m still single,’ he told her. ‘Although I’ve obviously had quite a few girlfriends over the past few years...’
I just bet you have! Samantha thought grimly, ashamed to discover that she wasn’t immune from the acid green, needle-sharp pangs of sour jealousy. Which was absolutely crazy, considering both her own marriage and the fact that it was so long since she and Matt had seen one another.
‘And I have had a long-standing relationship with someone for the past three years.’
‘Oh, really?’ she murmured, doing her best to respond to his words with a warm, friendly smile. Quite determined—even if it killed her!—to appear happy to hear that he had a live-in lover, Samantha added brightly, ‘Maybe she ought to have joined us here for dinner tonight? In any case, you really must introduce me to your girlfriend when I’m next in New York.’
‘No, well, I’m afraid that might prove to be just a bit difficult,’ Matt drawled, his green eyes gleaming with amusement. ‘Because that particular relationship has recently been terminated.’
‘Oh, dear. I’m very sorry to hear that,’ she told him, privately appalled at how shockingly easy it was to suddenly become a barefaced liar. ‘What. . .er. . . what led to the break-up?’
Matt shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘It was entirely my fault, I’m afraid. Because when it came to the point of having to make some sort of permanent commitment, such as marriage, I suddenly realised that I couldn’t quite go the distance.’
He paused for a moment, before adding reflectively, ‘I suppose the harsh truth is that I discovered, in the nick of time, that I didn’t wish to spend the rest of my life with that particular lady.’ He gave another slight shrug. ‘So that was it. End of story.’
‘I’m sorry that it didn’t work out for you.’
‘There’s no need to be sorry,’ he grinned. ‘Quite frankly—just between the two of us—I rather think that I’ve had a lucky escape!
‘In any case, that’s all in the past,’ Matt continued firmly. ‘In fact, my dear Sam, I’d say that it’s both the present and the immediate future which looks far more promising. What do you think?’
You’ve got to get a grip on the situation! Samantha yelled silently at her weak, inner self as he attracted the attention of a waiter, and began settling the bill for their meal.
For heaven’s sake—she was certainly old enough to know when a guy was coming on to her. But, having spent the past two hours desperately trying to ignore this man’s overwhelming, dark attraction, she was now in such a state of tense, nervous exhaustion that she simply wasn’t capable of adding two and two—let alone able to guess what he had in mind for the rest of the evening.
‘I... er... I’m not quite sure what you mean,’ she muttered, when the waiter had left and they were alone once more.
‘Oh, come on, Sam!’ He raised one dark eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he gave her a wry, mocking smile. ‘I mean that I think it’s definitely time we adjourned to my apartment, don’t you?’
Ah! Even her bemused mind was beginning to get the message by now—loud and clear! But he was going to have to spell it out. And in words of one syllable, she told herself tersely. After all, it was he who’d dumped her, all those years ago. So, there was no way she was going to make the first move. Absolutely not!
‘And what exactly do you have in mind, Matt?’ she queried, as lightly as possible, although she’d never felt so on edge, or so jittery, in all her life.
He gave a low rumble of deeply sensual laughter. ‘Now, that’s what I’ve always loved about you, Sam!’ he drawled, firmly clasping her nervous, trembling fingers.
‘It’s good to know you haven’t changed. That you’re still not interested in messing around, or playing games—but believe in keeping your eye firmly on the main issue for discussion! Right?’ he added as he raised her trembling hand to his warm lips.
‘Oh, Matt...’ she muttered helplessly, a deep flush spreading over her pale cheeks.
‘Relax, darling!’ he murmured, still keeping a firm grip on her fingers, his green eyes glinting with sardonic amusement. ‘I can, of course, offer you a drink or a cup of coffee. However, I’d much rather indulge in a bout of mad, passionate lovemaking. A fact, I may say, which has been at the very top of my agenda since approximately two o‘clock this afternoon! How’s that for plain speaking?’
‘Not bad!’ She grinned, suddenly feeling quite amazingly happy. And the, as he stared down at her, the gleam in his eyes carrying an unmistakable message, the slowly churning excitement in her stomach seemed to burst into a hot surge of overwhelming sexual desire, causing her to feel-almost faint as it raged fiercely through her quivering body.
‘So, like all good financial experts, I’d say that it’s definitely about time we began to discuss the present company’s imminent merger,’ Matt said as he rose to his feet. ‘Not to mention the pressing need to very closely examine the figures concerned!’ he added in a slow drawl, the thick, husky note in his voice positively making her toes curl as he turned to help her rise from the table. ‘What do you think, hmm...?’
It was some moments before Samantha—by now practically speechless with overriding lust and passion—somehow managed to get her act together.
‘I don’t seem to have a problem with that particular item on the... er... the agenda of tonight’s meeting,’ she murmured breathlessly as Matt took her arm and led her slowly out of the restaurant.
CHAPTER TWO
SAMANTHA’S heart was pounding like a sledgehammer, her pulse rate rocketing all over the place as she left the Four Seasons restaurant on Matt’s arm.
In what seemed a dream-like state, totally oblivious of everyone and everything, other than the tall, handsome figure by her side, she was only vaguely conscious of being helped into a large black limousine. As they were swiftly transported through brilliantly lit streets, she had no idea of where they were going. Nor did she care. Just as long as Matt continued to hold her firmly close to his hard, exciting body—they could have been jetting off to Timbuktu, for all she knew!
Coming to a halt at last outside an immensely large, brownstone building, she had only a brief impression of a uniformed doorman greeting Matt before he swept her dazed figure across a vast entrance hall—the only sound in the huge, silent space being the rapid, sharp click of her high-heeled evening sandals on the marble floor—and into an elevator. And then, in what seemed the twinkling of an eye, Matt was unlocking the front door of his apartment
‘Welcome to my humble abode,’ he drawled sardonically as he helped her off with her coat, before ushering her into a huge living room.
Finding herself standing in the midst of what seemed positively acres of lush, thickly piled cream carpeting, Samantha could only stare in open-mouthed astonishment at her luxurious surroundings. The opulent, heavy gilt rococo ‘French Château comes to New York via Hollywood’ style of decoration could only be described as utterly mind-blowing!
‘Make yourself comfortable by the fire,’ Matt directed, picking up a small black handset and pointing it at various objects as he strode towards a mahogany bar on the far side of the room.
Coming slowly back down to earth, she was just wondering how on earth he could bear to live in such dreadful surroundings, when she was startled to see the heavy cream silk, intricately draped curtains being slowly drawn—as if by invisible hands—across the windows, to shut out the chilly darkness of the April night. At the same time, the lamps in the crystal chandeliers slowly dimmed, the brilliant light being replaced by a soft, warm glow from the many occasional lamps dotted about the huge room.
However, when the logs in the massive grate, enclosed by an intricately carved marble mantelpiece, suddenly burst into life she quickly realised that what had at first appeared to be minor miracles were, in fact, merely a result of the appliance of science.
‘Is everything in this “humble abode” operated by remote control?’ she queried, her legs feeling wobbly with nerves as she moved slowly over to the fireplace.
‘No, not entirely. There are still one or two things which I’m quite capable of doing myself!’ Matt told her with a grin, his words accompanied by a loud crack as he removed the cork from a bottle of champagne.
‘It’s definitely all very... er... very grand,’ she murmured, gazing bemusedly at the delicately ornate, highly uncomfortable-looking sofas and chairs covered in blue silk which filled the room—whose walls, covered in dark oil paintings, appeared to be lined in the same blue material.
‘Ghastly, isn’t it?’ he laughed, filling two tall glasses with sparkling gold liquid.
‘Well...’
‘Following my recent appointment as chief executive of the company, I was working practically twenty-four hours a day when I first bought this apartment—which was in a terrible state and badly needed doing up. So, I made the grave error of placing its renovation in the hands of my ex-girlfriend—supposedly a top-notch professional decorator. The rest of the apartment is fine. So why she went so completely over the top in this room is completely beyond me.
‘Unfortunately,’ he added quickly as a mobile phone on the bar beside him gave an imperious buzz, ‘I simply haven’t been able to find the time to clear everything out and start again.’
While he was speaking rapidly into the phone, dealing with some urgent business matter which clearly required an immediate decision, Samantha became aware that the fog in her brain was slowly beginning to dissolve.
Sobering up fast, she realised that in accompanying Matt back here, to this luridly decorated apartment of his, she could have made a really bad, foolish mistake.
For one thing, it was never a good idea to try and recapture the past. Everyone knew that. So, why on earth had she allowed herself to be swept along on this tide of sudden, overwhelming lust and desire—which could so easily turn into nothing more than a highly embarrassing encounter?
Besides... this room was so awful, it seemed highly unlikely that a ‘top-notch’ interior designer would ever produce such a ghastly decorative scheme. Not unless the lady concerned had deliberately planned a not so subtle, bitter revenge against her ex-boyfriend.
Matt, as well as being a successful businessman, was clearly a bit of a playboy. He’d also admitted, in the restaurant, that he was definitely not into ‘commitment’. Which meant that it would be extremely unwise, Samantha told herself nervously, to get involved with someone who’d managed to provoke such a very ruthless, savage reaction from his discarded girlfriend.
So much water had flowed under the bridge since she’d first fallen head over heels in love with this man. Which had to mean that they were now two quite different people. Therefore, any idea that somehow time might have stood still—or that they could simply take up their relationship at the point where it had been broken off—was nothing more than total moonshine!
‘I’m sorry about that,’ Matt said as he finished his call, and tossed his mobile phone down on to a nearby chair. ‘I’ve turned the damned thing off—so we shouldn’t have any more interruptions,’ he added, walking across the room towards her.
‘This room has very good proportions,’ she observed nervously as he handed her a tall glass of champagne. ‘I mean... there must be many other good... er... good interior designers in New York. So, it shouldn’t be too hard to turn it into a... um... a comfortable home.’
Appalled to hear herself gabbling like an idiot, she took a quick sip of the deliciously cold, fizzy golden liquid—desperately trying to ignore the way her body was now responding with nervous, tingling excitement to the close proximity of his tall, lean figure.
If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t have a problem. It was just Matt and their past history together... which . must be the reason why she was suddenly feeling as jumpy as hell. So, the smart move must be to try to extricate herself from this tricky situation—as swiftly as possible.
‘Good heavens—just look at the time!’ she exclaimed shrilly, pointedly turning to glance at an ornate French clock, on a spindly side table. ‘I hadn’t realised it was quite so late. I... er... I really think that I should...’
‘I really think that you should calm down,’ he drawled smoothly, placing his glass down on the mantelpiece.
‘Nonsense! I’m perfectly calm,’ she snapped, utterly exhausted by the frantic pounding of her heart and yet, at the same time, feeling so desperately tense and on edge that it seemed as though she’d never again be able to relax.
But his only reply was a toe-curling, low rumble of laughter as he slipped an arm about her slender waist, deftly removing the tall champagne flute from her shaky fingers and placing it beside his own glass, before putting his other arm about her trembling body.
‘Relax, sweetheart!’ he murmured huskily, raising a hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her brow softly.
Shivering at the velvety touch of his fingers on her skin, which were now trailing slowly down over the long line of her neck, a rush of heat seemed to scorch through her veins, her stomach muscles clenching into a hard knot of feverish desire as he began pulling her closer to his tall figure.
Gazing helplessly up at him, she could see a muscle beating in his jaw, a slight flush on the high cheekbones beneath his tanned skin, with the glittering green eyes beneath their heavy lids now growing cloudy and opaque as he stared down at the trembling lips and the confused, troubled expression on her face.
‘I’m sorry, Matt. I...I know you must think that I’m an utter fool,’ she confessed in a husky, breathless voice. ‘But...’
‘On the contrary,’ he murmured thickly. ‘I think you’re sensationally attractive, and a very, very sexy lady.’
‘But, I shouldn’t have come back here, to your apartment It’s impossible to try and recapture the past,’ she protested. ‘Quite honestly, we...we could both be making a bad mistake.’
‘I’ve certainly made some wrong decisions in my life—but this definitely isn’t one of them,’ he told her flatly, the hard certainty in his voice sending shivers down her backbone.
‘No, you’re not thinking it through!’ she gasped.
He gave a low snort of derisory laughter. ‘I’m not interested in “thinking” about anything, at the moment. I just need to hold you...to feel you...’
‘Matt! This really isn’t a good idea,’ she muttered helplessly, aware that her body was denying her words of caution; that her swelling breasts and the visible hardening of her nipples were clearly signalling the rising tide of sensual need and passion, now sweeping through her trembling figure. But, quite unable to do anything about it, she could only gaze weakly up at the tanned face, now only inches away from her own.
‘Believe me, this is just about the only idea I’ve had since first setting eyes on you this afternoon.’
His deep, husky voice seemed to echo around the large room, time standing still as his arms slowly tightened about her.
And then, with sudden impatience, he pulled her hard up against his firmly muscled body, before lowering his dark head and possessing her lips in a long-drawn-out kiss of overwhelming sensuality.
At the first touch of his warm lips on hers, there could be no denying that this was what she had been both hungering for and yet, at the same time, fearing since first setting eyes on him this afternoon. She was powerless, totally unable to do anything other than eagerly respond to the mouth moving over her lips with insidious persuasion, gently forcing and probing them apart with a deeply erotic, seductive arousal that totally inflamed her senses.
Desperately attempting to cling on to some kind of sanity, Samantha felt as though she was helplessly caught up in the forceful tide which was pounding and rampaging through her body; betrayed by a deep compulsion to respond to her overwhelming need of him.
However, as his kiss deepened, it seemed as if some outside agency had suddenly pulled a switch—abruptly releasing a massive torrent of dangerous electricity, violently zigzagging like fork lightning through her body.
And, incredibly, it seemed as if the same explosive force of unstable, super-charged voltage was also sweeping like a flash-flood through his tall frame.
Totally gripped by an ancient, primitive force that was quite beyond either of them to control, all normal and civilised behaviour simply vanished into thin air. With their lips still firmly clasped together, he tore the clothes first from her body, and then his—all their garments being feverishly hurled aside as they wildly sought to satisfy their mutual, overwhelming need.
It was only when she became dimly aware of her naked form being roughly clasped to his bare chest, as he lowered her down on to the thick white rug in front of the fire, that she made a last, despairing attempt to cling on to sanity.
‘This is crazy...we must be out of our minds...’ she gasped as he covered her soft naked flesh with his own hard, firm body.
‘For God’s sake!’ he breathed thickly, his hands sweeping erotically over her trembling figure. ‘Are you really asking me to stop making love to you? Because if not, my darling,’ he added with a muffled laugh, pressing his warm lips to her swollen breasts, ‘can we please leave any argument about moral ethics and civilised behaviour until later?’
Unable to prevent a deep, responsive shudder from scorching through her body, she found her arms closing instinctively about him, her fingers curling into his thick dark hair as he pressed feverish kisses over her soft, warm flesh.