Hired For His Pleasure: The Talk of Hollywood / Keeping Her Up All Night / Buttoned-Up Secretary, British Boss

CHAPTER SIX

NO ONE tried to stop them, but Jaxon noted the presence of the two black-clothed men who moved to stand at either end of the coved beach that stretched beyond the walled gardens of Bromley House, positioning themselves so that they faced outwards rather than watching the two of them as he and Stazy spread the blanket on the warmth of the sand.

The sun was shining brightly and a breeze blew lightly off the sea.

‘Little seems to have thought of everything,’ Jaxon murmured appreciatively as he uncorked a bottle of chilled white wine before pouring it into the two crystal glasses he had unwrapped from tissue paper.

‘Years of practice, I expect.’ There was a wistful note in Stazy’s voice as she knelt on the blanket, arranging the chicken and salad onto plates.

His expression was thoughtful as he sipped his wine. ‘You used to come here with your grandparents.’ It was a statement rather than a question.

She nodded abruptly. ‘And my parents when they were still alive.’

‘I hadn’t realised that.’ He winced. ‘Would you rather have gone somewhere else?’

‘Not at all,’ she dismissed briskly. ‘I’m sure you know me well enough by now, Jaxon, to have realised I have no time for sentimentality,’ she added dryly.

No, Jaxon couldn’t say he had ‘realised’ that about her at all. Oh, there was no doubting that Stazy liked to give the impression of brisk practicality rather than warmth and emotion; but even in the short time Jaxon had spent in her company he had come to realise that was exactly what it was—an impression. Even if she hadn’t responded to him so passionately—so wildly—the evening before he would still have known that about her. Her defence of her grandparents, everything she said and did in regard to them, revealed that she loved them deeply. And as she had no doubt loved her parents just as deeply.

‘Where were you when your parents died …?’ He held out the second glass of chilled wine to her.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she took the glass from him. ‘At boarding school.’ Her throat moved convulsively as she swallowed. ‘My father was flying the two of them to Paris to celebrate their twentieth wedding anniversary.’

‘Do you know what went wrong …?’

Her eyes were pained as she looked up at him. ‘Are you really interested, Jaxon, or are these questions just out of a need for accuracy in your screenplay—’

‘I’m really interested,’ he cut in firmly, more than a little irritated that she could ask him such a question. Admittedly they had only met at all because of the film he wanted to make about her grandmother, but after their closeness last night he didn’t appreciate having Stazy still view his every question with suspicion. ‘I’ve already decided that neither you nor your parents will feature in the film, Stazy.’

She raised red-gold brows. ‘Why not?’

Jaxon shook his head. ‘There’s only so much I can cover in a film that plays for a couple of hours without rushing it, so I’ve more or less decided to concentrate on the escape of Anastasia’s family from Russia, her growing up in England, and then the earlier years of the love story between Anastasia and Geoffrey.’

Her expression softened. ‘It really was a love story, wasn’t it?’

Again there was that wistful note in Stazy’s voice. Jaxon was pretty sure she was completely unaware of it. An unacknowledged yearning, perhaps, for that same enduring love herself …? Yet at the same time Stazy was so determined to give every outward appearance of not needing those softer emotions in her life.

She seemed to recognise and shake off that wistfulness as she answered him with her usual briskness. ‘There’s no mystery about my parents’ deaths, Jaxon. The enquiry found evidence that the plane crashed due to engine failure—possibly after a bird flew into it. One of those one in a million chances that occasionally happen.’ She shrugged dismissively.

It was a one in a million chance, Jaxon knew, and it had robbed Stazy of her parents and completely shattered her young life. A one in a million chance that had caused her to build barriers about her emotions so that her life—and her heart?—would never suffer such loss and heartache again.

He was pretty sure he was getting close to the reason for Stazy’s deliberate air of cold practicality. A coldness and practicality that he had briefly penetrated when the two of them had kissed so passionately the evening before.

He reached out to lightly caress one of her creamy cheeks. ‘Not everyone leaves or dies, Stazy—’

He knew he had made a mistake when she instantly flinched away from the tenderness of his fingers, her expression one of red-cheeked indignation as she rose quickly to her feet.

‘What on earth do you think you’re doing, Jaxon?’ She glared down at him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her breasts rapidly rising and falling in her agitation. ‘Did you really think all you had to do was offer a few platitudes and words of understanding in order for me to tumble willingly into your arms? Or is it that your ego is so big you believe every woman you meet is going to want to fall into bed with you?’

Jaxon drew his breath in sharply at the deliberate insult of her attack, his hand falling back to his side as he rose slowly to his feet to look down at her gloweringly. ‘It’s usually polite to wait until you’re asked!’

‘Then I advise you not to put yourself to the trouble where I’m concerned!’ she bit out dismissively, two bright spots of angry colour in her cheeks, green eyes glittering furiously as she glared up at him. ‘I may have made the mistake of allowing you to kiss me last night, but I can assure you I don’t intend to make a habit of it!’

Jaxon gave a frustrated shake of his head. ‘You kissed me right back, damn it!’

Stazy knew that! Knew it, and regretted it with every breath in her body. At the same time as she wanted to kiss Jaxon again. To have him kiss her. Again. And again …!

She ached for Jaxon to kiss her. To more than kiss her. Had been wanting, aching for him to kiss her again ever since the two of them had parted the night before. So much so that right now she wanted nothing more than for the two of them to lie down on this blanket on the sand—regardless of the presence of those two guards!—and have him make love to her.

That was precisely the reason she wouldn’t allow it to happen!

Jaxon was only staying here at Bromley House for a week. Just one week. After which time he would leave to make his pirate movie, before returning to the States and his life there. It would be madness on Stazy’s part to allow herself to become involved with him even for that short length of time.

Why would it? The only two relationships she’d previously had in her life had been with men she had known were uninterested in a permanent relationship. Surely making Jaxon the perfect candidate for a brief, week-long affair.

No, she couldn’t do it! She sensed—knew—from the wildness of her response to him yesterday evening that Jaxon represented a danger to all those barriers she had so carefully built about her emotions. So much so that she knew even a week of being Jaxon’s lover would be six days and twenty-three hours too long …!

‘Where are you going?’ Jaxon reached out to firmly grasp Stazy’s arm as she would have turned and walked away.

‘Back to the house—’

‘In other words, you’re running away?’ he scorned. ‘Again,’ he added, those grey eyes taunting.

Just the touch of his fingers about her arm was enough to rob Stazy of her breath. For her to be completely aware of him. Of his heat. His smell. For her fingers to itch, actually ache to become entangled in the long length of his hair as his lips, that sensuously sculptured mouth, claimed hers.

What was it about this man, this man in particular, that made Stazy yearn to lose herself in his heat? To forget everything and everyone else as she gave in to the rapture of that sensuous mouth, the caresses of his strong and capable hands?

Danger!

To her, Jaxon represented a clear and present danger.

Physically.

Emotionally.

At the same time Stazy knew she had no intention of revealing her weakness by running away from the challenge of his taunt. She pulled her arm free of his steely grasp. ‘I happen to be walking away, Jaxon, not running. And I’m doing so because I’m becoming bored by the constant need you feel to live up to your less than reputable image!’

The hardness of his cheekbones became clearly defined as his jaw tightened harshly. ‘Really?’

‘Really,’ she echoed challengingly.

Jaxon continued to meet the challenge in those glittering green eyes for several long seconds as he fought an inner battle with himself, knowing the wisest thing he could to do was to let Stazy go, while at the same time wanting to take her in his arms and kiss her into submission. No—not submission; he wanted Stazy to take as much from him as he would be asking of her.

In your dreams, Wilder!

Stazy might have had a brief lapse in control the evening before, but he had no doubt it was that very lapse that made her so determined not to allow him to get close to her again. If he even attempted to kiss her now she would fight him with every part of her. And he didn’t want to fight Stazy. He wanted to make love to her.

He also had no doubt that at the first sign of a struggle between the two of them those two watching bodyguards would decide that Stazy was the one in need of protection. From him.

He stepped back. ‘Then I really mustn’t continue to bore you any longer, must I?’ he drawled dryly.

Stazy looked up at him wordlessly for several seconds, slightly stunned at his sudden capitulation. What had she expected? That Jaxon would ask—plead—for her not to go back to the house just yet? To stay and have lunch with him here instead? That he would ask her for more than just to have lunch with him? If she had thought—hoped for—that then she was obviously going to be disappointed. Jaxon Wilder could have any woman he wanted. He certainly didn’t need to waste his time charming someone who continued to claim she wasn’t interested.

‘Fine,’ she bit out tautly. ‘Enjoy your lunch.’ Her head was held high as she turned and walked away.

Jaxon watched her leave through narrowed lids, knowing that he had allowed Stazy to get to him with those last cutting remarks, and feeling slightly annoyed with himself for allowing her to do so. And, damn it, what ‘less than reputable image’ was she referring to?

Okay, so over the past ten years or so he’d had his share of relationships with beautiful women. But only two or three in a year. And only ever one at a time. He certainly wasn’t involved with anyone at the moment.

He was allowing Stazy’s remark to put him on the defensive, when there was nothing for him to feel defensive about!

Jaxon turned slightly as he saw the nearest guard had moved off the headland and was now following Stazy back to the house. His smile became rueful as he watched the second guard leave his position in order to follow behind them, nodding curtly to Jaxon as he passed by several feet away, at the same time letting him know he wasn’t the one being protected.

Just watching the way the two men moved so stealthily told Jaxon they were attached to one of the Special Forces, and even though neither man carried any visible weapon Jaxon was certain that they were both probably armed.

That knowledge instantly brought back the feelings of unease Jaxon had felt when he had arrived yesterday.

‘Ready to call it a day …?’

Stazy had been wary of Jaxon’s mood when he’d returned to the house an hour after she had left him so abruptly on the beach, but her worries had proved to be unfounded. Whatever Jaxon felt about that heated exchange, it was hidden beneath a veneer of smooth politeness she found irritating rather than reassuring; either Jaxon had a very forgiving nature, or her remarks had meant so little to him he had totally dismissed them from his mind!

She glanced at the plain gold watch on her wrist now, as she leant against the back of her chair, surprised to see it was almost half past six in the evening.

‘Jaxon, I—’ She drew in a deep breath before continuing. ‘I believe I owe you an apology for some of the things I said to you earlier.’

‘You do?’ Jaxon raised dark brows as he flexed his shoulder in a stretch after hours of sitting bent over the table, the two of them having only stopped work briefly when Little had brought in a tray of afternoon tea a couple of hours ago.

Stazy had been just as distracted by Jaxon’s physical proximity this afternoon as she had this morning, and now found herself watching the play of muscles beneath his tee shirt as he stretched his arms above his head before standing up. His waist was just as tautly muscled above those powerful thighs and long legs. Damn it, even that five o’clock shadow looked sexy on Jaxon!

And she was once again ogling him like some starstruck groupie, Stazy realised self-disgustedly.

‘My grandfather would be … disappointed if he were to learn I had been rude to guest in his home,’ she said.

‘I’m not about to tell him, Stazy.’ Jaxon gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘And technically we weren’t in your grandfather’s home at the time.’

‘Nevertheless—’

‘Just forget about it, okay?’ he bit out tautly, no longer quite as relaxed as he had been. ‘But, for the record, that disreputable image you keep referring to is greatly overstated!’

Obviously she had been wrong. It hadn’t been a case of Jaxon having a forgiving nature or her remarks meaning so little to him he had dismissed them at all; Jaxon was just better at hiding his annoyance than most people!

‘I only said that because—’ She broke off the explanation as she remembered exactly why she had felt defensive enough to make that less than flattering remark earlier. Because she had once again been completely physically aware of Jaxon. Because she had been terrified of her own aching response to that physical awareness, of the danger Jaxon represented to her cool control.

She gave a shake of her head. ‘Did you find anything interesting in my grandmother’s papers?’

Stazy’s attempt at an apology just now had gone a long way to cementing the fragile truce that had existed between the two of them this afternoon, and in the circumstances Jaxon wasn’t sure this was the right time to discuss anything he might or might not have read in Anastasia’s private papers.

‘A couple of things I’d like to discuss with Geoffrey when I see him next.’

‘Such as?’

‘It can wait until Geoffrey comes back,’ he dismissed.

Stazy’s mouth firmed. ‘I thought the whole reason for my being here was so that you didn’t need to bother my grandfather with any questions …?’

Jaxon gave a rueful smile. ‘And I thought the reason you had decided to be here was to make sure I didn’t decide to run off with any of any of these private papers!’

‘I’m sure the security guards would very much enjoy ensuring you weren’t able to do that!’ she came back dryly.

‘Thanks!’ Jaxon grimaced.

She gave him a rueful smile of her own. ‘You’re welcome!’

That smile transformed the delicacy of her features into something truly beautiful: her eyes glowed deeply green, there was a becoming flush to her cheeks, and her lips were full, curved invitingly over small and even white teeth.

An invitation, if Jaxon should decide to risk taking it up, that would no doubt result in those teeth turning around and biting him.

Now, there was a thought guaranteed to ensure he didn’t sleep again tonight!

Stazy’s smile slowly faded as she saw the flare of awareness in the sudden intensity of Jaxon’s gaze fixed on her parted lips. ‘I think I’ll go upstairs for a shower before dinner,’ she said briskly.

‘I’d offer to come and wash your back for you if I didn’t already know what your answer would be,’ he finished mockingly.

Stazy looked up into that lazily handsome face—warm and caressing grey eyes, those sculptured lips curved into an inviting smile, that sexy stubble on the squareness of his chin—and briefly wished that her answer didn’t have to be no. That she really was the sophisticated woman she tried so hard to be—the woman capable of just enjoying the moment by separating the physical from the emotional.

The same woman she had succeeded in being during those other two brief sexual encounters in her past.

But not with Jaxon, it seemed.

Because her reaction to him was frighteningly different.

He quirked one expectant dark brow. ‘You seem to be taking a while to think it over …?’

‘Not at all.’ Stazy shook herself out of that confusion of thoughts. ‘I’m just amazed—if not surprised!—at your persistence in continuing to flirt with me.’

He gave an unconcerned shrug. ‘It would appear I have something of a reputation to live up to.’

Stazy gave a pained wince. ‘I have apologised for that remark.’

‘And I’ve accepted that apology.’ He nodded.

‘But not forgotten it …?’

No, Jaxon hadn’t forgotten it. Or stopped questioning as to the reason why Stazy felt the need to resort to insulting him at all.

Did he make her feel threatened in some way? And, if so, why? Once again he acknowledged that Stazy Bromley had to be one of the most complex and intriguing women he had ever met. On the outside beautiful, capable and self-contained. But beneath that cool exterior there was a woman of deep vulnerability who used that outer coldness to avoid any situation in which her emotions might become involved. Including physical intimacy. Especially physical intimacy!

Not that Jaxon thought for one moment that Stazy was still a virgin. But she would have chosen her lovers carefully. Coolly. Men who were and wished to remain as unemotionally involved as she was.

Had she found enjoyment in those encounters? Had she managed to maintain those barriers about her emotions even during the deepest of physical intimacy?

The cool detachment of her gaze as she looked at him now seemed to indicate those relationships hadn’t even touched those barriers, let alone succeeded in breaching them.

As Jaxon so longed to do.

Last night he had briefly seen a different Stazy—a Stazy who had become a living flame in his arms as she met and matched his passion, her fingers entangled in his hair as she wrapped her legs about his waist to meet each slow and pleasurable thrust of his erection against the moist arousal nestled between her thighs.

Jaxon’s hands clenched at his sides as he fought against taking her in his arms and kissing her until she once again became that beautiful and intoxicating woman.

‘I think I’ll go outside for a stroll before dinner.’ And hope that the fresh air would dampen down his renewed arousal!

If not, there was always the coldness of the English Channel he could throw himself into to cool off …!

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘I’VE invited an old friend of my grandfather’s to join us for dinner this evening,’ Stazy informed Jaxon when he came into the drawing room an hour later.

‘Really?’ He strolled further into the room. He was wearing a black silk shirt unbuttoned at the throat this evening, with black tailored trousers. His hair was once again damp from the shower, the square strength of his chiselled jaw freshly shaven.

Stazy was quickly coming to realise that Jaxon used that noncommittal rejoinder when he was less than pleased with what had been said to him. ‘I thought you might be getting a little bored here with just me for company,’ she came back lightly as she handed him a glass of the dry martini she now knew he preferred before dinner.

‘Did you?’ he drawled softly. She felt the warmth of colour enter her cheeks at his continued lack of enthusiasm. ‘Obviously you’re used to more sophisticated entertainments—’

‘All the more reason for me to enjoy a week of peace and quiet.’ Jaxon met her gaze steadily. ‘I was only trying to be hospitable—’ ‘No, Stazy, you weren’t,’ he cut in mildly.

She stiffened. ‘Don’t presume to tell me what my motives are, Jaxon.’

‘Fine.’ He shrugged before strolling across the room to sit down in one of the armchairs, placing his untouched drink down on a side table before resting his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepling his fingers together in front of his chest. ‘So who is this “old friend” of your grandfather’s?’

Stazy’s heart was beating so loudly in her chest she thought Jaxon must be able to hear it all the way across the room. He was right, of course; she hadn’t invited Thomas Sullivan to dinner because she had thought Jaxon might be bored with her company—she had invited the other man in the hope he would act as a buffer against this increasing attraction she felt for Jaxon!

For the same reason she was wearing the same plain black shift dress she had worn six weeks ago, when she and Jaxon had first met, with a light peach gloss on her lips and her hair secured in a neat chignon.

She moistened dry lips. ‘He and my grandfather were at university together.’

Jaxon raised dark brows. ‘That is an old friend. And your grandfather’s … outside employees are okay with his coming here this evening?’

‘I didn’t bother to ask them,’ she dismissed.

‘Then perhaps you should have done.’

Stazy frowned. ‘We aren’t prisoners here, Jaxon.’

He gave a slight smile. ‘Have you tried leaving?’

‘Of course not—’ Her eyes widened as she broke off abruptly. ‘Are you saying that you tried to leave earlier and were prevented from doing so …?’

Jaxon wasn’t sure whether Stazy was put out because he might have tried to leave, or because he had been stopped from doing so. Either way, the result was the same: it appeared that for the moment neither of them were going anywhere.

‘I had half an hour or so to spare before dinner and thought I would go for a ride—enjoy looking at some of the scenery in the area. I was stopped at the main gate and told very firmly that no one was allowed in or out of Bromley House this evening. Which probably means your grandfather’s old friend isn’t going to get in either,’ he added derisively.

‘But that’s utterly ridiculous!’ She looked totally bewildered as she placed her glass down on a side table before turning towards the door. ‘I’ll go and speak to one of them now.’

‘You do that.’ Jaxon nodded. ‘And while you’re at it maybe you can ask them what that flurry of activity was half an hour or so ago.’