From international bestselling author Zara Cox comes the scorching fourth book in The Mortimers: Wealthy & Wicked series.

Photographer Jensen Scott is convinced his subject is just a pampered princess with a cold heart…but this ice queen is prepared to indulge his wildest desires!

Graciela Mortimer’s reputation precedes her: she’s rich, entitled and far too beautiful, exactly like the woman who broke my heart. But here on a snowy Alaskan photoshoot in the wilderness, I’m starting to think she’s not what I first thought. In fact, she might just be the wake-up call I need.

After Graciela sends away her entourage in favor of an intimate one-on-one shoot with yours truly, a vicious blizzard sweeps through our camp and catches us unprepared. We’re forced to retreat to our cabin, with only each other for company. Perhaps Graciela could make me trust again…but will she let me in long enough to thaw her heart?

Harlequin DARE publishes sexy romances featuring powerful alpha males and bold, fearless women exploring their deepest fantasies.

Read more of Zara Cox’s exciting miniseries The Mortimers: Wealthy & Wicked: Worth the Risk, Pleasure Payback, Her Every Fantasy, available now!

ZARA COX writes contemporary and erotic romance. She lives in the Garden of England—aka Kent—with her hubby and two kids. She loves to read and travel. In 2017 she managed to visit her number one bucket list destination—Hawaii—and is now actively pleading with her husband to live there! She loves to hear from her readers; you can get in touch with her via Twitter (@zcoxbooks), on Instagram (zaracoxwriter) or Facebook (zaracoxwriter).

And look for other DARE books by Zara Cox

Close to the Edge

The Mortimers: Wealthy and Wicked

Worth the Risk

Pleasure Payback

Her Every Fantasy

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Driving Him Wild

Zara Cox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09956-1

DRIVING HIM WILD

© 2020 Zara Cox

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

THERE WERE CERTAIN markers I’d come to rely on over the years. Markers that signified what sort of day was in store for me.

Opening my eyes exactly sixty seconds before my alarm went off was a good starter sign. My assistant getting my coffee at ninety-one point seven degrees, not the scalding one hundred degrees most people thought was the ideal temperature for the perfect cup of java? Wonderful.

Progression from car to lift to corner office without a single one of my three hundred plus staff interrupting my seven hundred and fifty-seven steps? Utter perfection.

Precision and order equalled harmony.

There was nothing precise or orderly or harmonious about the deep rumbling voice firing off questions at my hapless crew fifty feet from where I stood, perfect coffee rapidly cooling in my hand.

No one had approached me…yet, because I’d taught my people to handle problems well.

And also, I knew deep down to my very bones, because I was who I was.

Graciela Mortimer. The woman who went by many monikers.

Billionaire heiress.

Goddess of Charity.

Queen of Cash.

Or the most frequently used—and the one I hated the most—Bitch Ice Princess.

There was some sort of irony in remembering that here, standing underneath the distant shadow of the ice-covered Alaskan Range, on a frozen lake scant miles from the Arctic Circle while surrounded by minions poised to obey my every word. But wasn’t my life one giant fucked-up expression of the term? Prime example—hadn’t I, in my feverish attempt to not draw attention to myself, inadvertently become the public face of a global conglomerate? That in fervently wishing to be ordinary, remove myself from the harsh spotlight of being a Mortimer, I’d somehow achieved extraordinary status, earning myself, not one or two, but three prestigious magazine cover appearances and a mantel full of accolades?

Nevertheless, if the frenzied media coverage over the last year were an indication, my achievements paled significantly in comparison to the man who’d arrived twenty minutes ago in a flurry of a dozen husky-pulled sleds, sleek but weathered in all-white winter gear and reflective sunglasses, and a whole hour late.

Jensen Scott.

World famous adventure photographer.

Half-English, half-Danish on his mother’s side. And according to Elsa, my mostly efficient if sometimes too day-dreamy assistant, possessor of killer jawline, fuck-me hair, body and eyes.

In short, six foot five of extremely fuckable man.

From where I stood, I could confirm the six-foot-five stature.

I could also confirm that the man possessed a certain intangible…presence, the kind that tweaked even my jaded senses. The kind that compelled and intrigued.

With the ever-present threat of a snowstorm and precious few hours of remaining daylight, everyone had pressing tasks to be getting on with. Yet even those scouts tasked with looking out for unfavourable visits from curious polar bears and other Arctic wildlife were distracted by our latecomer.

That straying from procedure grew increasingly unacceptable, sparking my uncustomary temper. The kind normally tightly controlled and unleashed on the very deserving. Like certain members of my family.

Incomparable talent or not, right this moment, the man dressing down my project manager without so much as raising his voice higher than the cold, frozen landscape around us was jumping on my last but one nerve. Not quite the last because that was reserved. For what exactly? I wasn’t sure. But the instinct I’d learned to heed told me save that last nerve.

Because I’d be needing it sooner rather than later?

Shame I didn’t listen to that caution twenty-odd years ago, back when I’d needed it most. If I had, my life would’ve been oh, so different than it was now.

You sure about that? You think escaping your destiny would’ve been that easy?

I ignored the cynical voice in my head that sounded eerily like my mother’s and narrowed my eyes at the small gathering.

Larry, my normally unflappable project manager, was positively quaking. And it had nothing to do with the freezing wind blowing off the frozen Alaskan lake we currently stood on.

I discarded my coffee and forced my limbs to move, swearing for the umpteenth time to fire my stylist the moment I returned to London. Despite the five-thousand-dollar insulated winter gear she’d sworn high and low would keep me warm and toasty, I was freezing. And I was most definitely not in a mood for temperamental Nordic men whose broad shoulders looked as though they’d been hewn from the very glacier I stood on.

‘Problem?’ I asked as I approached.

Jensen Scott turned.

And every single one of Elsa’s proclamations zinged off in my brain.

Fuck-me eyes. Tick.

I was hit with a set of eyes so glacial and blue and transparent, the hard kick to my gut took me by surprise.

Killer jawline. Tick.

His square jaw looked sharp and solid and chiselled enough to cut diamonds, despite being covered in a dusting of dark blond stubble and snow flecks.

Fuck-me body. Tick.

Even under several layers of insulation, the Viking-god build of the man was unmistakeable. His shoulders went on for ever, as did his rangy torso and tree-trunk legs.

The fuck-me hair I couldn’t verify on account of the snow-white beanie covering him from forehead to nape. Not many guys managed to pull off a beanie. Jensen Scott managed to pull it off with extra aplomb.

Suck-me lips.

My own addendum to Elsa’s list.

Tick.

A thinner upper and slightly overfull lower, his mouth was the perfect ingredient for wet-making sex fantasies. The kind you could imagined latched onto your clit for hours while his tongue went to work.

A flash of heat blazed through me, welcome only because of its life-saving purposes. The rest of it—that sweet sting to my clit, that plumping of my labia, the slow slide of hot liquid I hadn’t felt in a while and almost convinced myself had become unimportant—I intended to ignore the same way I’d been ignoring the demands of my libido for the better part of a year. It wasn’t worth it any longer to go against what I’d denied for the better part of a decade. What I now knew went deeper than a mere proclivity—my utter and unapologetic need for complete control. A hunger I’d attempted to feed with the wrong men and the wrong choices until I’d decided, no more.

Those eyes that looked as if they were sparked with sky and snow narrowed at me. ‘And you are?’

I chose not to be offended. Hell, I was even a little glad to not be instantly recognised. ‘I’m in charge here,’ I stated.

To his credit, he didn’t do that subtle double-take some men did when confronted with a woman in charge. Nor did he look to Larry for verification. He simply accepted my word, even while his nostrils flared with his displeasure.

‘The problem is that Larry here has been less than candid with me, haven’t you, sir?’ he accused. His deep, low voice held the faintest Scandinavian accent, probably from his Danish motherland. The kind that made my ears prickle with a need to hear him speak more, just so I could hear the inflexions in that beautifully modulated accent.

Or perhaps it was that sir?

I kicked myself into touch, tightened my hold on control before even the mere idea of indulging in scandalous thoughts strayed into my consciousness.

‘How exactly have you been deceived?’ I pressed.

I trusted Larry implicitly. He’d been with me almost from the beginning of what had been a throwaway job cobbled together by my family to shut me up. A project they’d hoped would occupy my time and stop me demanding an active seat in the boardroom. Little had they known that I would breathe my very life into it until it was an equal force in its own right on the Mortimer Group business radar.

That the award-winning charitable foundation Fortune 500 companies clamoured to be a part of and the associated Mortimer Quarterly magazine named the number one for three years running would become an integral part of the family company.

These days I turned away more requests from family members eager to promote their own sectors of the family business almost as much as I turned away other public business requests.

In content and advertisement alone, the magazine was scheduled almost twelve months in advance. Which was why nothing could be allowed to get in the way of its smooth running.

Not even the man lauded as a genius with a camera. The man currently casting a disdainful eye over the assembled crew, the two heavy-duty glacier helicopters standing two hundred feet away waiting to transport us away from this beautiful-but-deadly frozen tundra once we were done, and the half-dozen tents set up around the camp, before meeting mine.

His eyes lingered a second or two longer, a touch of sensual awareness stealing into his face when his gaze dropped to my mouth. And stayed.

Two of the huskies began yapping at each other. A sharp whistle from Jensen silenced them immediately. He blinked and shifted his gaze, and that tight little frisson of awareness dissipated. ‘This isn’t what I signed up for.’

‘Let me get this straight. You turn up an hour late only to inform me that you won’t be doing the job you’ve been contracted to do?’

Everyone around us grew still.

‘I despise subterfuge, Miss…what did you say your name was?’

‘I’m Graciela Mortimer.’ I held out my hand.

Recognition finally dawned as he slowly tugged off his thick glove. His gaze left my face, travelled down my body to my feet before rising again. His large hand engulfed mine and his expression heated up by a degree or two. Not the kind of instant appreciation I was used to but even that sent another spark of awareness through me. Drew my attention back to those lips. To everything I would’ve let myself imagine they could do. If I were interested.

Which I most definitely was not, I told myself, ignoring the slight surge of disappointment when he dropped my hand and tugged his glove back on.

‘Miss Mortimer. I wasn’t aware you would be here.’ His tone suggested what most did. That the Ice Princess of Charity only got involved with her work when it was time to throw another gala to raise money for her various causes. That, like most, he also believed not every project I put my name to was mine from inception to execution. That I merely dabbled until boredom led me elsewhere.

I glanced at Larry, who was writhing in discomfort. ‘I know you’ve been dealing with Larry, but I’d appreciate you explaining to me what exactly is going on here. What exactly were you told?’

‘I was led to believe this would be a wildlife shoot.’

His emphasis didn’t go unnoticed.

‘And that’s exactly what it is.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Excuse me, but if that’s the case, why do I see two helicopters and supermodels and stylists all around me? I’m not sure what your definition of wildlife is, but it’s certainly not supermodels in the wild.’

That untamed urge rose, the one I’d been fighting to tamp down or ignore for most of my life. The need to put him in his place in a way he would never forget. To have him on his knees. To dominate…

I chose a different route. ‘Like it or not, beauty sells, Mr Scott. Each of those models you object to is attached to a company and an article in my magazine that seeks to promote awareness of global warming. And while you might find it distasteful, together with the Mortimer Group, we’re raising almost a billion dollars for the cause. Surely the ultimate goal is what matters in the end?’

‘No, it’s not. Because all this—’ he cast a wide, irate arm at the crew ‘—does nothing but disturb the very wildlife you claim you’re here to protect.’

Irritation swelled to annoyance. ‘My people did their research and chose the course that would have minimal impact on this location. Had you turned up when you were supposed to an hour ago—’

‘It wouldn’t have changed a thing. Bears. Seals. Melting glaciers. The occasional bald or golden eagle if you’re lucky. That’s what Larry hired me to photograph. And I was late because the huskies needed a rest. Four of them are in training, a process which requires patience and time. Not unlike the very wildlife you’re here for. Turning up an hour ago wouldn’t have been a guarantee of a wildlife sighting. Especially not with the kind of commotion you and your crew are creating.’

Again, my gaze flicked to Larry. He avoided my gaze, confirming that something had gone seriously wrong, somewhere.

‘Excuse me, Mr Scott. I need a word with my PM.’

Jensen Scott held my gaze for several seconds, then he nodded and strode several steps away. Again, that urge fizzled, alerting me to the fact that it was merely dormant, not dead. I pushed it away and focused on Larry.

‘I’m sorry, Gracie,’ he blurted before I could speak. ‘All the guys I interviewed either didn’t come close to what we wanted or were booked months in advance. I heard on the grapevine that Scott had a very rare cancellation and I—’

‘You thought you’d lie your way into signing him?’

He grimaced. ‘I didn’t think he’d object this strongly. After all, he did the thing with the Danish royal family and a few high-profile people recently—’

‘We’ve known each other for almost ten years, Larry. That’s the only reason I’m not firing you on the spot. Pull another stunt like this and it’ll be your last. Are we clear?’

He paled further, then nodded gruffly before glancing over to where Jensen was petting one of his huskies. He murmured to the dog and the creature responded with rapt adoration. The few words that drifted over in the chilled breeze didn’t sound like English.

‘Do you think he’ll stay?’ Larry asked. ‘Do you want me to—?’

‘No.’ My objection emerged much stronger than I’d anticipated. ‘I’ll deal with Mr Scott. Just alert the crew that there might be a change of plans.’

He nodded immediately, his certainty that I’d get what I wanted infusing me with confidence as I approached Jensen.

Sensing my approach, he straightened and speared me with those glacial eyes. ‘Well?’

I shrugged. ‘It does appear a few…liberties were assumed about your hiring.’

His lips firmed, but he didn’t reply.

‘So, what will it take for you to stay?’

Something glinted in his eyes. Something that tugged at a vicious need inside me. Then he shook his head. ‘Nothing. I would never have signed up for this.’

I swallowed a swell of irritation. ‘Seriously? You’re that opposed to what I’m doing?’

‘Not what you’re doing. Just the way you’re going about it.’

Patience. Don’t lose your shit on him.

‘There are sixteen-wheelers trundling along the highways of this state every hour of every day of the year so deeper mines can be excavated and more oil can be drilled. Amongst other things. And you have a problem with a twenty-four-hour shoot over a small area to bring more awareness to a growing problem? A shoot that you’ve delayed by turning up late, I might add.’

He shrugged, his lips twitching as if he wanted to smile before he grew serious. ‘I have a problem with those trucks too. And the mining and drilling, if that makes you feel better.’

‘Let’s talk hypothetically. Or better… I’ll give you one minute to pitch me your version of how this would go if you were in charge.’

Perhaps it was a trick of the light. Perhaps I was imagining it. Or perhaps that lance of searing awareness that tunnelled through me was really a result of that look I’d caught on his face. The look that tugged at that desperate need again. The one that said were I to put him on his knees, Jensen Scott wouldn’t mind. That perhaps he would even…welcome it?

My heart leapt, even as I tried to throttle down its wild sprint. What if my instinct was wrong? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d misjudged a potential suitor. Wouldn’t be the first time I’d wholeheartedly trusted my instinct only to end up with ashes.

Still… I stared at him. Watched his face tighten with rejection. But not before I caught a look that treacherously resembled…longing.

Perhaps longing he resented me for?

He turned away, breaking eye contact to lean down to pet the nearest husky. ‘I’d pick one person to be the face of your campaign. Find a way to feature everyone else in another capacity. Your cause might mean something to every one of your crew, but they don’t all need to be here to make it count. One person can represent a million.’

For some reason his sound argument made my mouth dry, my heart beat just a touch faster. ‘And who would you pick—again, if you were in charge?’

This time I saw a tangible reaction to my deliberate choice of words. His jaw clenched, his nostrils thinning. ‘You want to make an impact. Pick the person who has the biggest voice.’ He stared at me in that direct and pointed way that left me in no doubt who he meant.

‘Me.’

He shrugged. ‘You decide.’ Glacial eyes met mine. ‘I’m not in charge.’ You are.

It was a silent gauntlet thrown at my feet. A brief relinquishing of his control as his eyes deliberately dropped.

Was this a test? Would he dare?

Something heavy and profound unfurled inside me, threatening to unleash that forbidden yearning I’d kept in chains. Again, he turned away, this time to check the reins attached to his sled.

Look at me when I’m talking to you.

I bit back the words, took a steadying breath. ‘I’ve spent a considerable amount of time and money to make this shoot happen. Leaving empty-handed would make me very unhappy.’

He tensed for a moment, but he didn’t look up.

My heart beat faster. ‘Do you want me to be disappointed, Mr Scott?’

‘Jensen,’ he offered with a low but distinct rasp, still without looking at me. ‘Call me Jensen.’

A surge of blood roaring in my ears made me dizzy for a moment. Then a peculiar elation rushed through my veins. One I desperately wanted to deny but found I wasn’t quite ready to. Not just yet. Not until I was absolutely sure this man who effortlessly blended into this landscape as if born to it was what…who my instincts were screaming him to be.

A submissive.

‘Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to send everyone but the most essential crew away. And you’re going to stay and deliver the shoot you promised me.’

He stopped toying with the reins and turned around. When his gaze met mine, his face was carefully neutral, making me doubt my instinct. ‘You don’t have the right equipment to travel over long distances and different terrain. Your PM was very vague with my agent—now I know why. I came here to find out more about what you need from me…from this project before I started. Even with what you deem an essential crew, you’ll have to wait for more sleds to arrive from Utqiagvik. That’ll take the better part of half a day.’

I raised my eyebrows as, for whatever reason, my heart banged even harder against my ribs. ‘So you’re suggesting no crew at all?’

‘At the most, I can make room for one more on the sled. Any more means more weight on the sleds and more weight for huskies to pull.’

Just you and me… ‘You want me to stay here on my own. With you?’

His eyes glinted before they blinked back into careful neutrality. ‘Have you been keeping an eye on the weather reports?’

Someone on my crew had. ‘Of course.’

He looked sceptical. ‘Then you’ll know that in less than three days’ time the sun will set for the next couple of months. Today and tomorrow are your only chances to get the variety of photographs you want.’ He waited a couple of beats, no doubt for his words to sink in. Then he took a breath. ‘What’s it to be, Miss Mortimer?’

Call me Graciela.

It was an automatic invitation to new acquaintances and potential donors. Call me Graciela was so I wouldn’t be reminded that I was a Mortimer. That the blood of an unfeeling, dysfunctional dynasty ran through my veins. It reminded me of the many times I’d attempted to correct that dysfunction, when I thought I knew better, believed I was different. A misguided, cruelly awakening time I would wipe my brain clean of if I could.

The words hovered on my lips but never emerged.

Because I wanted clear, definitive boundaries between myself and this man.

Boundaries I was curious to see whether he would breach. Whether he would prove me wrong.

Or…right.

Dangerous, forbidden boundaries. The kind that had the power to wreck my sleep, turn my daydreams inside out with dark yearning.

‘Larry,’ I called out without taking my eyes off Jensen. His gaze stayed on my face, dropped to my mouth for a charged moment before returning to mine.

I heard Larry hurry over. ‘Gracie?’

‘Tell the crew to pack up.’

‘We’re leaving?’ The disappointment in Larry’s voice was distinct.

I gave a single shake of my head. ‘Everyone else is. I’m staying.’

‘Oh? For how long?’

‘As long as it takes. What will I need, Mr Scott?’

He didn’t correct me this time or invite me to use his given name. ‘I have a satellite phone, but if you wish to keep yours, two is better than one. A couple of changes of clothes, in case you get wet.’

‘Food? Water?’

He shook his head. ‘I have enough to get us through the day.’ A hint of hard smile tilted the corners of his lips. ‘Be warned, it’s more utilitarian than gourmet.’

I let the mild insult bounce off me. If my instinct was correct, he’d learn his lesson soon enough. ‘I can rough it for a day or two without expiring from the horror of it all.’ I looked past him to the covered trailer attached to his sled. ‘Speaking of roughing it, where will I be sleeping?’ Thoughts of my warm hotel suite back in Anchorage filled me with longing for a short moment before I pushed them away.

Did he just swallow? ‘I have a tent if we decide to stop for the night. Or my cabin is a couple of hours’ sled ride away.’

Larry cleared his throat. I glanced at him to find him frowning. ‘Are you…you’re really staying here on your own?’

The veiled ‘Are you mad?’ in his tone drew equal amounts of irritation and amusement. But more than that, it drew intrigue and possibilities directed at the man standing tall and delicious in front of me. Twin emotions I hadn’t allowed myself to experience in a long time. Because inevitably both had led to painful disappointment.

‘There’s a chance to salvage something from this debacle. Or would you rather I scrap it and call it a failure?’ I asked Larry.

‘Of course not. I just meant…’ He paused, casting a dark glance at Jensen.

‘I think your PM is worried about your safety,’ Jensen said with a trace of amusement.

I didn’t smile back. I was a Mortimer after all. And as with most individuals with nine or more zeros attached to their bank balances, I’d been at the receiving end of a few security scares. I couldn’t afford to be blasé about it, even in an icy wilderness like Alaska. ‘Should he be?’ I tossed at him.

Every trace of humour vanished. ‘I won’t let any harm come to you. You have my word.’

For a taut stretch our gazes locked, unspoken words arcing between us. ‘Instruct the crew,’ I told Larry without taking my eyes off Jensen. ‘No need to freeze here if you don’t have to. Tell Elsa to pack me a change of clothes and get going. I’ll check in tonight.’

He knew better than to argue with me. Barely ten minutes later the small camp was all packed up and aboard the helicopters.

The apprehension I should’ve felt at being alone with this…captivating stranger was curiously absent as I watched my crew leave. Behind me, Jensen stashed my bag under the tarp covering the trailer then approached. I didn’t look his way as he stopped next to me.

‘I spotted a mother bear and her cubs feeding about half an hour from here near a broken ice floe. We can start there if you want?’

I shifted my gaze from watching the choppers turn into dark specks in the sky. ‘You’ve had that information since you got here and chose not to share it?’

He shrugged, drawing my attention to one broad shoulder. ‘It wouldn’t have helped if you hadn’t been inclined to see things my way. In the time it would’ve taken to gather your crew to get there, they’d have been gone.’

Neat answer while delivering the punch he no doubt intended to. ‘You don’t think very highly of me, do you?’ There was a distinct sting to that knowledge, one quite different from the dull throb of pain I’d experienced over decades of holding my emotions inside.

‘I don’t know you. I’m only going on what I’ve seen so far.’

‘Are you? Then why do I get the impression you’ve already made up your mind about me? Is it perhaps because you believe you know me despite us having only just met?’

‘Are you accusing me of something, Miss Mortimer?’

I studied the profile he insisted on presenting to me. There was a tightness around his mouth and jaw that spoke to more than the face-value conversation taking place. ‘Yes, I am.’

His delicious lips pursed for a second. Then he exhaled. ‘The dogs are rested; we can probably make it in time if we leave now.’

‘Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m accusing you of?’

His gaze finally turned my way, and the endless depth of icy emotion swimming within nearly made me sway. ‘No. My statement goes both ways. You don’t know me either, so whatever you think of me is most likely flawed.’

‘Ah. So that’s how we’re going to proceed, is it?’ I asked softly. But he caught the steel I hadn’t disguised. ‘First, we skirt each other warily, assessing weaknesses before we land the first punch?’

This time his lips twisted in a cynical twitch. ‘I’m sure you have far better things to do than to waste time delving into what makes me tick.’

His tone suggested he applied a very heavy vice versa to his statement. And despite the icy weather, my blood heated up. I reined in sweet, exhilarating control with a subtle clench of my fingers.

‘You’re right. But I wouldn’t have needed the time anyway. I know exactly who you are, Mr Scott.’ This time the gleam in his eyes was fairly mocking. But before he could tailor words to that look, I added, ‘And I also know exactly what you are.’

The gleam faded as if extinguished, his face settling into an inscrutable mask. And even though his gaze stayed on mine, everything about him bristled with restlessness. An almost visceral need to…deny.

Except he couldn’t. Not without denying a vital part of himself. Not without perhaps…letting himself down? But he strained against exposing his true self to me until his struggle was as real as the snow beneath his feet.

God, what had happened to him?

An equally visceral need to know attacked me, punching right through my defences to that secret vault I’d sealed shut once and for all.

Five seconds ticked by. Ten.

After twenty, his head snapped forward, his jaw jutting out with aggression that spoke of his turmoil. An aggression I wanted to wield beneath my fingers. To test and twist and mould into something sublime.

My breath shuddered out, astonishment at my train of thought nearly overwhelming me.

‘The day needn’t be wasted. Or we can waste time and your money on a hypothesis that leads nowhere.’

I allowed myself a small laugh, saw a slight tensing of a different kind in his frame as he heard it. ‘My hypothesis is definitely leading somewhere. Otherwise why else would you be so wound up? But by all means let’s change the subject.’ I waved a hand at the vast white tundra. ‘Take me to your mama bear, Mr Scott.’

CHAPTER TWO

SHE WAS A SPOILT, overindulged princess.

The kind who watched a few episodes of a reality show about surviving in the wilds of Alaska and suddenly decided they wanted to dabble in nature. The type who got it into their heads that stroking a seal or two and posting a selfie with the Arctic wildlife or atop the odd ice floe automatically granted them environmental activist status.

I didn’t need to look back at where she was perched on the sled behind me to visualise her clutching her collar, grimacing at the intensifying wind. I was surprised she hadn’t whipped out her sleek satellite phone and ordered her chopper to come pick her up.

The bear family might have moved in the time she’d been ordering her staff about.

The time she’d spent analysing me with those stunning hazel eyes, deciding whether to toy with me or not.

Muscles jumped in my stomach. As hard as I tried to ignore the sensation, what I’d seen in her hooded, sultry eyes still sent fresh waves of apprehension through me. Not the kind that had anything to do with the work she’d hired me for. That I could do with one hand tied behind my back and one eye closed.

No, the kind of sensation that look had elicited…that fucking craving.

I shook my head, partly to clear it, partly in denial.

Dammit, she’d seen it. Then she’d spotted my efforts at denial…

I gritted my teeth and unnecessarily flicked the reins attached to the dogs. The huskies were highly trained, would respond to the softest whistle or voice command, which made the reins largely superfluous.

Or, hell, was that particular symbolism for me? Was I so hard up, I was now expressing myself through my bloody dogs?

Dammit.

I didn’t need this. I should’ve left Graciela Mortimer’s little ice circus the moment I confirmed her project manager had lied to my agent in order to secure my services.

More than any other flaw, I hated lies. And the people who told them.

Large. Medium. Tiny white lies. Every single one of them came with wrecking balls that altered lives, changed the dynamics of relationships, no matter how much we fooled ourselves into believing otherwise.

How many had my mother told my sister and me in order to avoid facing the glaring truth?

I’m all right. It doesn’t hurt. He’ll change. And the worst lie of them all: he loves us.

Even before my fifth birthday, I’d known that statement for a lie. And for the decade after that, that fabrication had been exposed time and again until, like poisonous acid, it’d begun to erode my relationship with my mother.

Of course, I knew now it’d been her way of coping, the delusion her own form of security blanket. Hadn’t I risked falling into that same pattern of delusion until I’d wised up as a grown man? Hadn’t I made allowances for Stephanie’s lies just to hang on to what I thought was a solid relationship, all the while knowing that trust, once broken with lies, never—

‘How close are we, Mr Scott?’

Of course her voice would have to melt my insides. Visions of heated honey…no, more like the anticipation of watching melted wax in the moment before it hit my skin. The sharp burn before the breathless, sizzling warmth.

That was what Graciela Mortimer’s voice had evoked the moment she’d spoken the words I’m in charge.

Lort!

I should’ve left after imparting my thoughts on what she was proposing to do. Which would’ve been easy considering I hadn’t wanted to do this gig anyway. Regardless of the fact that my own company had been driving me insane. Regardless of the fact that I hated myself a little for not being able to stay the course of what was left of my month-long self-imposed hermitage.

I should’ve left.

Instead, here I was, secretly yearning to hear that voice again. To do that, though, I’d have to engage her in conversation.

‘Ten more minutes. Give or take,’ I threw over my shoulder. The GPS co-ordinates I’d noted on my watch would see us there in less time, but I’d learned to make allowances on unknown terrain.

Silence greeted me. Against my will, I looked over my shoulder.

Despite the stylish shades covering her eyes, I felt her gaze boring into mine with unapologetic directness that tunnelled lightning straight into my veins. It singed me into life, making me aware of every inch of my skin, and especially the rush of blood to my groin.

This was why I hadn’t walked away.

Yet.

‘Give or take what?’ she asked with a slight arch of a silky eyebrow.

Good question. My sanity? Another sign that my screaming instincts were right? That she wasn’t merely toying with me?

But fuck, where the hell did I get off trusting my instincts when they’d let me down spectacularly so very recently with Stephanie?

‘Mr Scott, while I have a thing for the strong, silent type…on occasion, this isn’t one of them. I will need you to actually engage with me here.’

The dry amusement in her tone should’ve raised my hackles further. And yet it drew a wry smile. And what was it with that Mr Scott when I’d invited her to use my first name?

Perhaps because she didn’t need invitation. She commands it.

My senses jumped, dark need clamouring through me so hard every inch of my body tightened with anticipation.

Futile anticipation. I had no intention of even probing possibilities. Not after the fucking fiasco with Stephanie.

There was a reason I’d retreated to my remote cabin in Alaska. A reason I’d welcomed the last-minute cancellation to my tight work schedule. When it came right down to it, the need to escape my thoughts and immerse myself in my work were the reason I’d grudgingly accepted what I thought would be a solo assignment.

Which was why I should’ve left Graciela Mortimer where I found her.

‘We’re here.’ I tugged on the reins with a sharp whistle and the dogs immediately slowed to a stop.

The mother and her three cubs were still on the large floe about a quarter of a mile away, finishing off the last of a fish meal. One of the dogs barked and the mother bear raised her head warily, eyeing us from across the distance.

I sensed Graciela approach, felt her invasive presence when she stopped next to me. The very fact that my every sense clamoured to look into those hazel eyes once more made me avoid her gaze.

‘Are they… We’re not disturbing them too much, are we?’

The question was soft enough to have fooled me had I not witnessed the circus I’d convinced her to dispatch. ‘Do you care?’

Stephanie would’ve inhaled sharply at such a blunt question, then, depending on whether she was in her false role or not, would’ve delivered icy condemnation or tears on command.

Graciela met my question with another imperious lift of her brow and a steady regard when I flicked a glance her way. ‘You really don’t like me, do you?’

There was another hint of a smile in the question, a suggestion that she didn’t care either way. It should’ve confirmed every impression I’d had of her. Instead, it disconcerted me. Did my opinion of her count so very little?

‘You don’t care whether I do or not so why bother asking?’ I countered.

Her sigh was long and exaggerated, another indication that she found me…vastly amusing. That she could grind me underneath those expensive snow boots she was wearing without a second thought.

Just as Stephanie had believed she could.

Another spoilt little rich girl, this one with a few billion to play with, who believed she could buy anything and anyone in sight.

More than a little vexed that I couldn’t detach as easily as I’d hoped from the events of the past few months, I headed for the sled, pulled back the tarp and lifted out my treasured camera and slotted a fifty-millimetre lens to it to capture the close-ups I wanted to start off with. ‘You want shots for the print magazine and videos for the digital version, correct?’

‘If it’s not too much to ask, yes.’ Again she sounded amused.

And I couldn’t help it. I paused in the process of unscrewing the lens cap and looked her way to find her glasses sitting on top of her head and her stunning eyes fixed on me.

Not a single picture I’d seen of the heiress had done her justice. She had a face that just begged to be photographed. As for her body, despite being under wraps from neck to toe, I’d seen enough pictures of her in the glossy rags Steph used to devour to know just what was beneath the outfit.

Graciela was taller than average for a woman but even though she only reached my shoulder she seemed…taller.

Larger than life.

But while I wanted to believe it was mostly entitlement—because, let’s face it, that shone from her eyes and bristled from every pore—there was more. Which again made sense, since she was the very definition of a wild child and went out of her way to prove it with her various antics.

Skydiving in nothing but a string bikini over Rio.

A three-day sex party with a premier league soccer team in a hotel in Mali.

The rumours that she kept a string of lovers across the globe…

The icy wilderness landscape of Alaska was the last place I’d expected her to turn up, thinking she, like Steph, was the kind to leave all the hard work she’d later take credit for to her minions.

I finished adjusting the exposure to compensate for the darkening sky and took an initial short burst of photos of the polar bear family. Then I swapped the lens for a sixteen-millimetre, for wide-angle shots, and took another burst.

Surprisingly, she remained quiet throughout, didn’t fill the silence with mindless chatter, which I appreciated.

‘Can the cubs swim at their age?’ she asked when I lowered the camera after five minutes.

‘If they’re more than a few months old, yes, for short periods. But with more distances between icy landscapes some bears have been seen swimming with their young on their backs.’

She nodded, her gaze on the ice floe. ‘Is it dangerous for them?’ she asked.

‘Danger comes from all angles in this environment. This is a slow-moving floe and surrounded by frozen land on three sides. The mother would be on the lookout to ensure they don’t drift too far.’

‘That’s great, but it’s moving…towards us.’

I curbed a smile as I swapped cameras and grabbed a tripod to set up more stills. ‘We’ll be gone before it gets to us.’

She nodded again, but her gaze grew speculative, shifting from the bears to the other floes. They varied in size from a few metres to ones the size of football fields, all broken away from the mass that would normally have stayed solid well into the new year.

‘Can I get a short video of the floes, too?’

‘Sure.’

She didn’t interrupt or badger me with questions once I got into the flow of things. Hell, she even took herself off a short distance away, taking out her phone to take pictures of the distant Alaskan Range and the beginning of the spectacular orange on white sunsets that graced this stunning part of the world.

She returned in time to witness the bears’ floe touch another one and the mother supervising her cubs jumping from their floating platform onto a larger one.

With one last warning look over her shoulder, the mother bear escorted her cubs away towards a jagged mountain peak.

‘How long before they go into hibernation?’

‘Another two or three weeks.’

She frowned. ‘They don’t look nearly padded up enough.’

I shrugged. ‘Probably because they have to travel farther distances to feed.’

As if on cue, a loud, sharp crack sounded. Camera poised, I swung around in time to capture the towering wall of ice break away from a glacier to crash into the lake.

The sound seemed to echo for ever, bouncing off the icy landscape in perfect surround sound. Beside me, Graciela gave a soft gasp. ‘God. That’s…’

I lowered the camera and glanced at her. ‘It’s breathtaking and awe-inspiring until you remember that it shouldn’t be happening?’

Her face shuttered, her brows creasing in a frown.

I wasn’t sure whether she didn’t like that being pointed out or whether she didn’t want to admit she was affected by what was unfolding before her eyes. Wasn’t she here after all because money had been thrown at her charity by people who could afford to contribute ten times more?

‘Do you want to be included in the video?’ I asked.

She remained silent for several seconds, then shook her head. ‘I’ll let the environment speak for itself.’

I throttled back my surprise. She’d just passed up the perfect opportunity to get in front of the camera. A camera manned by me. According to my agent, her PM hadn’t shied away from tossing his boss’s name into their phone conversations at every opportunity in an attempt to sway me. While I knew now he’d bent the truth to suit his purposes, I also knew most people wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to be photographed by Jensen Scott.

I came within a whisker of being impressed before I reminded myself this was just the beginning. Women like Graciela Mortimer wouldn’t overplay their hand with over-eagerness. If anything, she’d expect me to talk her into it.

She’d be waiting a long time for that. I ignored her, shooting a three-minute video in sharp focus, the white landscape capturing the stark story.

‘Are you ready to go?’ I asked once the echoes had receded and the equipment was packed away.

She nodded. ‘Where to next?’ she asked briskly.

‘Depends. Do you want to show all the gloom or is your piece aimed towards reminding people of the glory too?’

‘The aim is for more shock than awe but I’d like to use the time efficiently. So whatever’s closest.’

‘How about we kill two birds with one stone, so to speak?’

‘As figures of speech go, I wouldn’t have reached for that one. And for some reason I think you wouldn’t have either. Now I’m totally convinced you’re trying to get a rise out of me, Mr Scott.’

I was, and a small part of me cringed at the pettiness. ‘It’s Jensen.’

Again, one corner of her mouth tilted, drawing my gaze to the overfull lower lip. Its juicy plumpness and far too lickable curve. Almost in slow, torturous motion, a perfect picture slid into my brain of those lips wrapped around my cock, drawing sweet torment with every suck. I didn’t have a single doubt that Graciela would know just how to suck me off. She was far too confident in her femininity not to be an expert in all things coitus.

‘Is it?’ she taunted in answer to my offer.

I might have been attempting to rile her, but she was having a ball reciprocating.

‘Is there a reason you refuse to use my first name?’

‘I think we both know why.’

Why the hell was this friction turning me on? This wasn’t the type of interaction that got me off. ‘Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot—’

‘No. I think we got off on the exact right foot. I remind you of the baggage you’re attempting to shed by running off and hiding in the icy wilderness next to the Arctic Circle, and you don’t like it.’

Anger fired up inside me, even while I was thrown by her near-accuracy. ‘I’m not running anywhere,’ I bit out.

‘Aren’t you? Sorry, my bad.’

I snapped the tarp over the equipment with more force than necessary. ‘You don’t sound sorry at all.’

She shrugged. ‘I’ll work on my sincerity while we head for wherever you’re taking me next. Shall we?’

We stared each other down, with the friction and tension increasing with every moment that ticked by.

I’d had enough of that with Stephanie, each moment with her spent on the uncertain edge of judging a mood that could veer from icy indifference to volcanic.

Walk away.

The faster I completed this assignment, the quicker I could be rid of Graciela and the unsettling emotions she evoked.

Slowly, as if she’d read my intentions, her expression changed to one of steady assessment tinged with boredom.

Absurdly, that only riled me further, the need to ruffle feathers she’d effectively smoothed with a dismissive thought firing through me.

‘You get a kick out of being contrary?’

She shrugged. ‘Maybe. Or perhaps you simply don’t like the truth pointed out to you. Either way, we can still talk while we…sled. Is that what you call it?’ She gestured at the animals.

‘You know exactly what it’s called,’ I replied, noting absently that my heart was beating faster, my senses more fired up than they had been in weeks. ‘Pretending you’re less intelligent than you actually are may be a turn-on for other men. Not me.’

‘And you think that’s what I’m trying to achieve here? To turn you on?’

God, the way she said that, with the exact cadence engineered to stroke my cock. Did she practise it to get that perfect degree of hotness and craving?

I had a feeling she knew the exact effect she and her voice were having on me.

‘I don’t think you utter a single word or make a move without calculating the exact effect you wish to achieve.’

Like a switch her expression grew icy, her eyes dimming to a dull brown before she blinked and cast a disdainful glance at a spot over my shoulder.

I’d struck a nerve. For a moment I wanted to take back my words, but then I wanted to know just what I’d done. To explore that nerve, get to know it better. So I might know this woman better?

She’s only here for another day. You don’t move in the same circles so if you don’t want to, you won’t need to see her ever again.

That thought…dissatisfied. I wanted to know Graciela. If for nothing else, to satisfy myself that my instincts weren’t wrong about her. That my craving was misplaced. That she was another wannabe, unworthy of the name…

Dominant.

My senses jumped. Harder than before, my gaze falling once more to those biteable lips. To her clothes and what lay beneath. To how it would feel to receive her command to unwrap her, lay my hands on her bare skin, feel her silky pulse jump beneath my touch. Hear her voice hitch with arousal as she revelled in controlling my every desire.

Even if it was a matter of losing myself in a woman just for the hell of it, with no agenda or deeper meaning, I was up for that.

‘I don’t believe I’m paying you to stand around and work out my IQ, Mr Scott.’

Keep your money. This one’s on the house.

I swallowed the words. I was richer than I’d be able to spend in one lifetime, courtesy of a life-changing photograph taken on a faraway continent. I’d been doing well before the photo that had propelled me to fame and fortune had set me up for life. I didn’t need her money, true. But I suspected a gesture like that would impress her even less. Not that I was out to impress her. And really, why the hell would I want to cut my nose to spite my face?

More axioms, Jensen?

I cursed the mocking voice and gestured at her to get back on the sled.

Disdain and designer sunglasses firmly in place, she hopped back into her seat.

The next destination was forty minutes’ sled ride away and, save for a quick stop to water the dogs, we completed it in silence.

Killik Falls was a natural waterfall cascading from a tiny blue lake cradled in one of the many glaciers situated between Prudhoe Bay and Utqiagvik. The sight of the blue water bursting through a wall of ice was a stunning phenomenon, a fact evidenced by Graciela’s gasp when I pulled the sled to a stop near a flat plateau on one of the glaciers.

‘Wow, that’s breathtaking.’

I let out a relieved breath, noting annoyingly that I’d hoped the sight would please her as much as it’d pleased me the first time I saw it. ‘Yeah.’

She stepped off the sled, sliding off her shades to get a closer look. When she glanced at me there was only curiosity in her eyes. ‘It all looks great. So why here?’

‘It should’ve frozen over two months ago.’

Her face cleared, leaving behind a solemn look. ‘Ah. I see.’ She took in the snow-dusted fauna around the lake while I took out my equipment. ‘How long has that been happening?’

‘Steadily for the past ten years.’

Her lips tightened, but she didn’t answer, her gaze flitting over the landscape to pause thoughtfully on the waterfall. ‘That’s…disturbing.’

Suddenly, I didn’t want to film the waterfall. I wanted to capture her reaction, the way the failing light teased shadows and light over her features.

She would be an interesting subject to photograph. My fingers clenched around the camera, the insane urge to aim my lens at her, zoom in close and catch every emotion, swelling higher with each moment. It grew strong enough to zap alarm through me.

‘Perhaps we should get on with it?’

I didn’t reply. Wasn’t sure I wanted to interact with her while in the throes of…whatever this was. Instead, I went to work, getting a vast array of shots so I didn’t miss a thing. When I was satisfied, I put my equipment away and glanced at my watch.

‘Gloom or glory?’ I asked. I had a site for either in mind I could squeeze in tonight, and her brief had called for five location shoots. While the cracking glacier earlier had been a bonus, I was technically required to do three more. I glanced over at her, caught the shiver she tried to hide. ‘Or are you ready to call it a day?’

Her gaze shifted to the covered equipment at the back of the sled. ‘Did I spot a tent in there?’

I frowned, inexplicably tensing. ‘Yes. Why do you ask?’

‘Did you plan on spending the night on the snow?’

‘Not tonight.’ And certainly not with her in tow. The last thing I needed was her kind of distraction.

‘When?’ she pressed.

‘At some point. When you’re not here,’ I added pointedly.

Again she surprised me by smiling where I’d expected her to be offended. She approached, not stopping until our bodies were six inches apart.

‘Guess what my favourite game is, Mr Scott,’ she murmured, her voice low, husky and sensually loaded enough to achieve its aim of curling tight around my cock.

‘Winding people up?’

‘Wrong,’ she breathed. ‘That’s my second favourite. My first is Tug of War. Care to know my percentage on wins?’

‘Sure. Enlighten me.’

She leaned up and in, until our condensed breaths mingled. And fuck if that didn’t heat my blood. ‘It’s high, Mr Scott. Very high.’

‘Very high doesn’t mean one hundred per cent. Which means on occasion you lose.’

Her smile widened. ‘Perhaps. But you’re contractually obliged to give me what I want.’

‘Or what? You’re going to fire me? I’m the best,’ I answered, with a tinge of well-earned arrogance. ‘Your PM told you that or you wouldn’t have hired me.’

‘Nothing as melodramatic as firing you. More along the lines of thinking you wouldn’t want to deny a client’s reasonable request. Would you?’

‘I’ve yet to hear what this reasonable request is.’

‘You want me to spell it out?’

‘Just so we’re clear, yes.’

‘You. Me. In the tent. Tonight. Doing whatever you were planning to do.’

Her words were deliberately phrased to get a rise out of me. And fuck, did they just. My cock hardened at the imagery, my gaze unable to shift from the perfect curve of her lips. No wonder she had men in a lather all over the globe.

She already had me in a lather, all over the innocuous idea of spending the night in a tent under the Alaskan sky. Time to defuse this before it got out of hand.

‘I always travel with a tent. You don’t know when the weather will turn. Or when a night shoot will reap rewards.’

‘What particular reward were you hoping for?’

I shrugged. ‘The forecast is for a clear night. I was hoping to score a borealis on video as part of the project.’

I caught the faintest hitch of her breath. She didn’t outwardly show her excitement, but the thought of witnessing an aurora borealis was a phenomenon most people rhapsodised over.

She slowly lowered her heels and slipped her shades back on, but even with the shield, I felt the power of her hypnotising stare. ‘In that case I’m going to have to insist on staying,’ she said after several seconds.

My pulse tripped, then raced at full speed. The thought of spending the long hours of the night with her in a tent, a woman even the most red-blooded alpha males feared, filled me with equal measures of dread and anticipation.

Overlay that with the persistent thought that she could be a Domme…

Again, where I should’ve refused, I found myself shrugging, moving to the back of the sled to grab a thicker anorak. Returning to where she stood watching me, I held it out. ‘It’s a bit of a trek, sometimes over rough terrain. Bumps and bruises are unavoidable but wear this and you won’t freeze to death.’

She took the anorak and shrugged it over her suit, then sent me another spine-tingling smile. ‘Thanks. And when we arrive at our destination, you can tell me what her name is.’

I froze. ‘Excuse me?’

‘The name behind the baggage you’re running away from. I’m sure she has one. I’d love to hear about her.’

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