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But how to help herself? She had the feeling that Blake could read the thoughts in her mind. The countless thoughts that raced round and round, confusing her and worrying her, bringing swift colour to her cheeks, and she wished now that she had gone to her room and shut herself in.
In London Blake was her boss, her employer, and she had never let herself think of him in any other way. She had not even wanted to. But now that she was far away from home, away from the safe and familiar, she was changing, relaxing—and almost welcoming the attention he was paying her.
‘When I’m feeling sad,’ she admitted in answer to his question, surprised to hear that her voice sounded normal. ‘I don’t really understand opera, but it somehow helps me. Not that I’ve ever been to a live performance.’
‘Is that so?’ Blake’s brows lifted. ‘Then we will have to see whether we can remedy that while we’re here. Watching an opera being performed at La Scala is a serious sensation in itself.’
Swift alarm stabbed at Kara’s chest. Attending a concert with Blake went far beyond anything that was reasonable and sane. ‘I doubt whether we’ll have time.’ And even if they had would she really want to go with him? Sit with him for two or three hours, or however long it lasted? This new-found awareness would fill her to such an extent that she would be unable to concentrate on what was going on on the stage. She put on her very best office voice. ‘You have a very full schedule, Mr Benedict. And even if you didn’t, I doubt you’d get tickets at this late stage. They must be sold out months in advance.’
‘Are you trying to get out of it?’
‘I am.’ There was no point in lying.
Blake laughed at her honesty. ‘Tut-tut, Kara. Have you not realised yet that I always get my own way? And perhaps you could learn to call me Blake?’
There was a whole world of difference between calling him Blake in her mind and saying it to his face. Maybe she was old-fashioned, but using his surname was what she needed more than anything right now. It held up the barrier. It prevented intimacy. It reminded her of who he was.
Not that her body took heed of any barriers. The longer they were together the more aware of him she became. And the more uncomfortable she felt. It was such a foreign feeling that she wanted to turn and run in case he sensed it.
Blake was a man of the world. He knew all about women. If he looked too deeply into her eyes he would be able to see how much he affected her. He would guess at the riot of emotions he had stirred. And he might play on it. Take advantage. Hammer away at her senses until she weakened.
The thought of weakening, of allowing him to flirt and tease, maybe even go further, caused a fast, heart-thumping eruption of excitement, of actual physical need. She turned and began to walk away. Finally she was beginning to appreciate what all the other girls in the office talked about.
‘You do understand, Kara—’ his voice came closely over her shoulder ‘—that running away tells me more about you than if you had stayed and argued.’
Blake knew that it was not going to be easy getting Kara Redman to relax in his company. For a few minutes earlier, when they had been window shopping, she had become animated, but as soon as he had suggested doing something that would throw them into close contact she had frozen.
The question was, why? And how long was it going to take him to find out? Kara was the most private person he knew. Other women were always eager to talk about themselves, to show off, to preen like a peacock in front of him. Not so Kara. And the less she opened up the more intrigued he became, the more determined to prise open the shell of security she had wrapped around herself. There had to be a reason and he wanted to know what it was. Whether it really was because of her father or whether it was something else.
‘I am not running away.’
He smiled at the hint of defiance in her voice. ‘Good, because I want you to relax. I want you to enjoy your time spent here. It’s not all about the conference, and since you’ve never been to Milan before I think you should see something more of the city than the inside of a hotel. In my humble opinion La Scala is the pièce de résistance. You cannot possibly leave without embracing a performance here. And I would be honoured to be the one to introduce you to the delights of live opera.’
‘It’s very kind of you Mr—er—Blake, but your diary is full.’
‘As you constantly remind me.’ He smiled as he spoke, sensing how difficult it had been for her to use his first name. ‘Nevertheless we will make time.’ He saw the apprehension in her blue eyes, and the way her teeth bit nervously on her lusciously plump bottom lip—something else he had never noticed before.
He was tempted to kiss away her nervousness, to taste those delicious lips for himself. But he knew that to do so would be fatal. Kara Redman was without a doubt the most intriguing female he had ever come across, and if it was the last thing he did he was going to remove the barriers she had built around herself. And he would take great pleasure in doing so.
‘I actually think we should be getting back,’ said Kara, looking pointedly at her watch. ‘Dinner will be in an hour, and I need to shower and—’
‘You are right, of course,’ said Blake, but she need not think that he had given up on the opera. The idea of them sitting together watching a performance, her slender body close to his, touching him perhaps, of letting her delicate perfume entrance him, maybe even finding himself far more aware of his surprisingly beautiful assistant than of what was going on onstage, was something that would not go away.
Kara Redman had begun to get beneath his skin like no other woman ever had. He’d been out with lots of beautiful women since his divorce, but their beauty had been skin-deep. His assistant was very different. Once he had really looked at her he had seen a strikingly good-looking woman—and he would never be able to understand why she hid her amazing figure beneath sensible clothes. She was also superbly intelligent. In fact she was one hell of a woman—and he could not believe that he had not realised this months ago.
CHAPTER THREE
RELIEF flooded Kara when she finally got back to her room, and she gulped in great breaths of air. Spending time with Blake left her feeling breathless and exhausted. Crazy feelings swirled in her stomach—desire mixing with unease. Hunger with fear.
What she could not understand was why she was experiencing these feelings now when she never had before. What was the difference between working for him in London and working with him here? The fact was that he’d never taken her walking in London. They had never met outside the office. In fact everything was different.
Even Blake was different. He was no longer the man who barked orders. Who expected them carried out to the letter in the shortest possible time. He had become human. And in so doing he had triggered something inside her that was scary. Because of her father she had always kept her feelings tightly controlled, everything hidden behind a mask.
And when Blake had shown not the least interest in her, when no man had shown interest, it had been easy to remain behind her mask of self-preservation. Now it was in danger of slipping. In fact it had already begun its downward slide. A few kind words, a desire to get to know her, and something inside had sprung into life. An amazing new life that both scared and excited her.
As she showered Kara wished with all her heart that she had been able to get out of this conference. Blake could quite easily have managed without her. All the arrangements had been made, the paperwork was done—there was nothing he needed that he hadn’t got. She had seen to everything.
She found herself scrubbing at her skin more energetically than was necessary, and asked herself whether she was trying to rid her body as well as her mind of him. Which was laughable! Blake Benedict was not a man anyone could forget easily, and she’d had more than her fill of him over the last eleven months.
It was a wonder she didn’t dream about him. Actually, now she remembered she had—the very first day of her job. After a gruelling eight hours she had convinced herself that she would never be able to do the job to his satisfaction, and had gone home to bed to experience a dream that had disturbed her deeply. Not because it was erotic—thoughts like that hadn’t entered her mind—but because he had assumed the mantle of the devil.
After that she used to tell her mother that she was working for the devil. She had never learned a job so quickly in her life. She had taught herself always to be prepared—and she had been. Always ready with an answer to his quick-fire questions. Until he’d changed from Blake Benedict, business tycoon, to Blake Benedict, human being. A human who was interested in her!
Dressing for dinner, Kara chose the skirt from her black suit, teaming it with a red blouse with a deep V-neck. Her mother had bought it for her last Christmas, but she had only worn it once, feeling that it was too pretty and too feminine to wear for work.
When she walked into the dining room, taller and more elegant than ever in her black high-heeled sandals, every eye turned in her direction. But the only person she saw was Blake, watching each step that she took.
‘You look stunning,’ he said softly as he stood to hold out her chair. ‘Red suits you. You should wear it more often.’
Kara smiled her thanks, not trusting her voice. He looked particularly handsome too, in a handmade navy suit and a pale blue silk shirt. His red and navy tie, also silk, was as immaculate as always, and as he bent over her, ensuring she was seated comfortably, his cologne—the one he always wore and which was an integral part of him—drifted beneath her nostrils like an aphrodisiac.
And when his hand touched her shoulder, when it lingered longer than was necessary, she felt a shiver of sheer pleasure run all the way down to the tips of her toes. ‘You smell divine, Kara,’ he whispered in her ear.
So do you, she wanted to say, but could not—dared not. It would be far too intimate. She was not sure that she liked him complimenting her either—not here, not with so many eyes on them.
She was relieved when a waiter placed a napkin on her lap and handed her the menu. Now she could breathe! Except that every breath she drew seemed to bring her nearer to Blake, and when she stole a glance at him from beneath her lashes she saw that instead of studying his own menu he was watching her.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, trying to make light of it, which was practically impossible when her heart had just leapt. ‘Do I have a spot on my nose?’
‘Your nose is delightful. It’s a very kissable nose.’
Kara’s eyes widened in shock.
‘You do not like compliments, Kara?’
The truth was that she was not used to compliments. What made her nose kissable, anyway? It was just a nose. She didn’t answer his question.
‘As are your lips.’
Kara refused to listen. She did not even look at him any more. She concentrated on the menu instead, ignoring the fact that her stupid pulse had begun to race again and heat was prickling her skin. One of her downfalls was the way that she blushed so easily, and she prayed that her cheeks did not colour now.
Even when their order was placed there was no escape. There was just the two of them. For no reason at all everyone else had faded into the background. Wine was poured and Blake proposed a toast. ‘To my most efficient PA—long may you continue to work for me.’
Kara could not drag her eyes away from his. She had never really noticed before how thick his lashes were, or how the grey of his eyes seemed to change colour according to his mood. She had seen them turn a light silver at the office, when someone was being less than efficient, but at this moment, when his attention was concentrated solely on her, when his thoughts were deep and unreadable, they were much, much darker. And they held an expression that she could not read but one that both scared and excited her at the same time.
Here in this beautiful hotel, in this beautiful country, something was happening to her. It was as though her old life in England was being slowly erased. Memories were fading and something far more exciting was taking over. It was a transitory thing, she knew, but it would surely be foolish not to make the most of it.
He made her feel as though they were the only two people in the room, commanding her attention in such a way that everything except him was blotted out. And for the moment this was all right with her. It was a new experience—one she would treasure when they got back home and everything returned to normal.
She took a sip of her wine and smiled shyly at him. ‘You’re very kind.’
‘It is no more than the truth.’
‘I enjoy the job.’
‘And are you also enjoying the conference?’
Kara nodded. ‘I’ve never attended anything like this before, and I have to confess I was a little nervous, but, yes, I am enjoying myself.’ Except when he paid her too much attention!
‘Every man here envies me. And why not, when you are a very beautiful woman?’
This time colour really did flood her cheeks. ‘It’s very kind of you to say so.’
In response he simply gave her a smile that caused a further skittering of her senses.
The waiter returned with their food and Kara was glad of the respite. It gave her time to take a few deep breaths and tell herself she was in control. That having a man flatter her like this should be a joyful experience, not scary.
And somehow it worked. Gradually she began to relax and enjoy the evening. She drank more wine than usual, unaware that her eyes were brighter and her cheeks flushed with happiness. They talked incessantly, and Kara laughed out loud at some of his anecdotes.
It was not until the end of the meal, when he passed her an envelope and then watched her face closely as she opened it, that she was suddenly stuck for words. Inside were tickets for Faust the following night. Kara blinked twice and swallowed a sudden lump in her throat.
‘Think of it as a thank-you from me to you for all the hard work you’ve put in,’ he said, watching the changing expressions on her face.
‘I—I don’t know what to say. I didn’t expect it. I didn’t think that you would be able to—’
‘But you are pleased?’ He looked suddenly anxious, not something he usually did. ‘And hopefully a little excited?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘But nothing, Kara,’ he said, his voice firm now. ‘All I want is for you to enjoy it.’
Privately Kara doubted whether she would remember anything of the opera. Sitting here talking to him when the room was filled with other people was one thing, but going to the theatre, seated so close that their bodies would touch, when there would be no escape, was another.
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