About the Author

JACQUELINE BAIRD began writing as a hobby, when her family objected to the smell of her oil painting, and immediately became hooked on the romance genre. She loves travelling and worked her way around the world from Europe to the Americas and Australia, returning to marry her teenage sweetheart. She lives in Ponteland, Northumbria, the county of her birth, and has two teenage sons. She enjoys playing badminton, and spends most weekends with husband Jim, sailing their Gp.14 around Derwent Reservoir.

Recent titles by the same author:

THE COST OF HER INNOCENCE

RETURN OF THE MORALIS WIFE

PICTURE OF INNOCENCE

THE SABBIDES SECRET BABY

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Giordanni’s Proposal
Jacqueline Baird

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CHAPTER ONE

‘NO, NO, nein, nada, non. Is that clear enough for you, Mike? Or do I have to spell it out? N-O.’

‘Don’t be so negative, Beth, darling,’ Mike drawled, his blue eyes dancing with amusement. ‘You know you’ll have fun, you always do with me.’

Beth stared down at her stepbrother in exasperation, but a hint of a smile pulled at the corners of her wide mouth. He really was the limit. Sprawled in her one and only comfortable chair, with one long leg draped over the arm, negligently swinging an expensively shod foot, he was the epitome of casual male elegance. The price of his shoes would have kept her for a month, she thought wryly. But that was Mike: handmade shoes, Savile Row suits, nothing but the best would do. Image was everything, according to Mike.

‘Much as I love you, Mike, I am not going to dress up as a French tart to your matelot and let you throw me around the boardroom of Brice Wine Merchants, even if, according to you, the firm is celebrating its centenary and the chairman’s birthday, and whatever else you care to tag on. The answer is still no.’

‘But, Beth, I have a two-hundred-pound bet with my boss, the marketing director. He said I wouldn’t dare liven up the chairman’s party with an impromptu cabaret. Of course, I said I would, and I can’t afford to lose.’ He glanced up at her, his blue eyes narrowing assessingly on her lovely face. ‘Unless, of course, you lend me the two hundred quid.’

‘Oh, no! No way! Lending money to you is the equivalent of throwing it down the drain. You made the bet; you get out of it. Or, better still, why not ask one of your numerous girlfriends?’

‘Ah, well, there’s the rub… For the past six months I’ve concentrated exclusively on one particular, lovely girl.’ His handsome face took on the expression of a love-sick puppy dog, much to Beth’s astonishment. ‘Elizabeth is the perfect woman for me. She is beautiful, intelligent and wealthy, and I fully intend to marry her one day. But unfortunately, when I suggested the wheeze to her, she told me to grow up and act responsibly, hence my throwing myself on your mercy.’

Mike in love… That Mike was contemplating marriage was mind-boggling. ‘You really want to marry the girl?’ Beth asked incredulously.

‘Yes, more than anything else in the world.’

There was no doubting his sincerity; it was in his eyes, the unusual seriousness of his tone, the way he straightened up in the chair, before continuing, ‘Which is why I daren’t take the chance of asking another girl. If Elizabeth found out it would be curtains for me. She’s very strong on fidelity. But as you’re my stepsister, even if the joke does get out, she might be mad for a while, but at least she’ll know I wasn’t unfaithful.’

Then Beth did smile. This was typical of Mike’s convoluted logic: it never occurred to him for a moment to forget the whole stupid idea. She remembered the first time she had met him. Home for Beth and her mother had been a small cottage in the village of Compton, not far from Torquay in Devon. Her late father had been an artist who’d never quite made it big before he died tragically young of a cerebral haemorrhage. Her mother also considered herself an artist, but in truth was a run-of-the-mill singer, who, between marrying men, craved fame. The summer Beth had met Mike, her mother had been performing in the summer season cabaret at a local theatre in Torquay. It was at the theatre that Leanora had met Ted, Mike’s father. He’d been a widower and the agent of the star of the show.

After a whirlwind romance her mother and Ted had decided to marry. Beth, at eight, had been dressed up as a flowergirl in satin and lace, while Mike, at twelve, was supposed to be an usher. After a civil ceremony performed by a registrar they had, along with about a hundred guests, all descended on Torquay’s largest hotel for the wedding breakfast.

During the reception Mike had crept under the top table unseen, except by Beth, and had tied the groom and the best man’s shoelaces together. When the best man stood up to speak, the groom had been tipped backwards off his chair, and, as his arm was around his new bride at the time, Leanora had gone flying as well.

Thinking about it now could still bring a smile to Beth’s face, and the four years that their parents had been a couple had probably been the happiest of Beth’s childhood. They’d divorced when she was twelve, and Beth had spent the rest of her formative years at a convent boarding school, but Mike had always kept in touch; his letters and the few holidays they’d shared had been some of the brightest spots in her otherwise pretty miserable teenage years.

Which was why, she thought wryly three days later, as she stepped into the elevator of the Brice building at six o’clock on a Friday evening, she was about to make a fool of herself for the umpteenth time. Because of Mike…

‘It is not too late to change your mind, Mike.’ She cast an imploring glance at the man standing beside her. He was dressed in a long trenchcoat, as Beth was herself, perfectly suitable attire for an overcast October day in London. But the black beret perched at a flamboyant angle on his fair head looked decidedly odd.

‘Stop worrying. It’ll be fine. I’ve arranged with Miss Hardcombe, the Chairman’s secretary, to start the music as we walk in the door. We throw off our coats and go into a one-minute routine, the same one we did for the school concert, and hey, presto, it’s over! I am two hundred pounds better off, plus I score Brownie points with my boss for imaginative thinking.’

‘But it’s ten years since we last danced together at that school concert! We were just children, and still young and stupid enough to think we were going to be showbiz stars, for heaven’s sake! We should have at least practised. I am bigger, slower and terrified,’ Beth cried as the elevator door slid back.

It went fine at first. There were a few raised eyebrows as they entered the boardroom, but as bottles of wine and glasses littered the large table it was obvious a celebration was in progress, and Beth felt slightly reassured. A few grins made by the dozen men present, when Mike wished the chairman a happy birthday, did not bother her, and then the music started.

But when they slid off their coats the grins changed to chuckles, and Beth realised straight away she was at a distinct disadvantage. Whereas Mike looked reasonably decent, in tight black flared-bottom trousers and a navy and white striped sailor’s jumper, she as the only woman present, looked outrageous, in a tiny black Spandex skirt, a red, scoop-neck clinging knit sweater and red stiletto-heeled shoes.

Worse was to follow, as Mike curved an arm around her waist and swung her round and away from him. She was supposed to let her feet slide along the floor, but unfortunately they had not counted on a thick-pile carpet, and her heel stuck. The chuckles turned to outright laughter. Then, when Mike picked her up and spun her around his head, to enthusiastic shouts of ‘Bravo!’, he got carried away and spun her around and around, until when he finally let go she was so dizzy she fell smack on her behind, her legs waving in the air.

Dazedly she looked up at the circle of sombre-suited men laughing down at her. Except that one of the men wasn’t laughing. He stood slightly back from the rest, and, from her position on the floor he looked enormous. She tilted back her head and her green eyes clashed with a pair of icy grey.

He was the most compellingly attractive man in the room. How had she not noticed him before? Mesmerised, she stared up at him as he slowly shook his head, a stray curl of black hair flopping over his broad forehead. He arched one dark brow in a look that managed to be both entrancing and insulting before, making no effort to hide his boredom and contempt, he deliberately turned his back on her.

Arrogant devil, she thought furiously. But still her eyes lingered on his wide back, and his long, long legs, and she had the oddest feeling she had met him before. Impossible—he was not the kind of man any woman with a red corpuscle left in her body would ever forget. The word ‘macho’ could have been invented for this man. Also ‘tough’, ‘uncompromising’… Beth’s lips twitched. And with a gorgeous tight bum, she noted on a more basic note.

Suddenly, instead of looking at his back, she was staring once more at his front, at a rather indelicate level. She swallowed hard and jerked her head back, lifting her eyes to his face, and she had to swallow again at the transformation in his expression.

His hard mouth was curved in a wickedly sexy smile. ‘Allow me,’ he said in a deep velvet voice, and held out a very large hand.

Blushing to the roots of her hair, Beth grabbed the hand he offered and scrambled to her feet. She barely heard the numerous congratulations from the rest of the guests, or Mike’s moment of triumph. Her whole attention was on the man before her.

Flushed and dishevelled, she had no idea how gorgeous she looked. She wasn’t a conventionally beautiful woman, like her statuesque, elegant mother—for a start, Beth was only five feet two—but there was quite a lot else about her that was memorable. She had big eyes of a deep jade-green, a generously curved mouth and thick, naturally curly auburn hair, which had now sprung from the band holding it in check to riot around her small face in a rosy cloud. Unfortunately she also had a rather large bust that was in imminent danger of popping out of her top.

‘Thank you,’ she muttered, finally finding her voice, stumbling a little, scarlet with embarrassment. With her free hand she hastily adjusted her top, while her other hand stayed clasped in his much larger one. She looked up into his grey eyes and wondered how she had ever thought they were icy—now they were luminous, almost silver, and glittering with obvious appreciation. And his flashing smile was enough to make her want to collapse at his feet again.

‘My pleasure. It isn’t every day I get to rescue such a beautiful damsel in distress.’

He had said she was beautiful, and her own eyes widened in wonder as she drank in the sight of him. ‘Tall, dark and handsome’ did not do him justice. He was lethally attractive; he radiated a raw, primitive power that was unmistakable. Even in her bemused state she noted everyone had stepped back and given him space, as if it was his due.

‘You all right, Beth?’ She vaguely registered Mike’s belated query.

‘The lady is fine. I will take care of her,’ the deep slightly accented voice responded curtly. But his gaze never left Beth’s small figure, and, stooping slightly, he added, ‘If that is all right with you, Beth. I may call you Beth?’

He could call her anything he liked, she thought stupidly, as long as he kept holding her hand and smiling down at her as if he had just discovered the crown jewels. ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ she murmured, enthralled by the wayward black curl that fell over his broad brow.

He squeezed her hand and slipped his other arm around her tiny waist. ‘You look none too steady in those very dangerous shoes,’ he said, justifying his familiarity as his silver gaze slid over her small face and lower, to her breasts, and on down to her feet, still encased in the ridiculously high-heeled shoes, and then back up to her face.

Beth was suddenly flushed with a totally different kind of heat. The warmth of his arm around her waist and the obvious admiration in his lazy gaze did weird things to her pulse-rate. What was happening to her? She had never reacted so instantly to a man in her life before. She had an overpowering urge to put her small hand on his broad chest, to run her fingers up the lapel of his immaculately tailored dove-grey suit, and to curl her fingers in the silky black curls that caressed the nape of his tanned neck. She lifted her hand, and gasped; she had almost done it…!

‘I need a drink,’ she blurted, and forced herself to step back. ‘It’s all right; I’m steady now,’ she added, breaking free from his hold.

‘You might be, but I don’t think I will ever be again,’ he husked, his silver eyes capturing hers. ‘Don’t move and I’ll get you a drink.’

She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to, her gaze following him as he turned and walked to the table, filled a fluted glass with amber liquid and turned back to offer it to her. She took it from him, the light brush of his fingers against hers sending a tremor up her arm that made her almost drop it. She took a hasty gulp of champagne, anything to hide her ridiculous reaction to him, but she had an uncanny feeling she would be unable to hide anything from this man, and yet she didn’t even know his name.

‘Who are you?’ she asked, and was instantly horrified at her own bluntness.

‘My friends call me Dex, my enemies, the bastard Giordanni. My mother christened me Dexter Giordanni. Dexter meaning, ‘‘on the right hand’’—possibly to compensate for my being born, on the ‘‘left-hand side of the blanket.’’ So take your pick.’ He laughed at the look of shock on her lovely face.

‘You’re very blunt, Dex,’ she said, stunned at his intimate revelation about his birth, but she could not help grinning back.

‘So we are friends. Yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘In that case, can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?’

‘Tomorrow night,’ she repeated, completely bowled over by his charm and obvious desire to see her again.

‘Unfortunately this evening I have to dine with the chairman and his wife.’ He gestured with his hand to where the head of the firm stood talking to Mike and a few others. Then, taking a card from his inside pocket, he said, ‘Give me your address and phone number, and I will pick you up tomorrow night at seven-thirty. Okay?’

She hesitated, torn between the desire to say yes and her more cautious self, which reminded her that this man was a stranger who could be dangerous to her state of mind. He had already dented her ability to think straight simply by his presence. She looked at him with puzzled green eyes, and felt the tension simmer in the air between them.

He straightened up, squaring his wide shoulders. ‘Unless, of course, your dancing partner has a prior claim to your time,’ he added, in a voice that was suddenly hard.

‘Mike?’ she chuckled. ‘You’ve got to be joking! He’s my stepbrother. You don’t really imagine I would make a fool of myself before a room full of strangers except with a member of the family? And, even so, I’m going to strangle the man when I get the chance.’

Dex’s responding chuckle relieved the inexplicable tension between them. ‘Good. So how about that address, please,’ he pleaded huskily. ‘I can see Brice heading this way.’

Beth looked around, and sure enough the chairman was walking towards them. ‘All right.’ In moments she had rattled off her address and telephone number.

Dex put the card back in his breast pocket just as the chairman arrived at his side.

Beth glanced at the man; not as tall as Dex, and quite a lot older, with a shock of white hair, he was still a very impressive figure.

‘Thank you, young lady. You and Mike certainly enlivened the proceedings. That boy will go far.’

Beth blushed again, and mumbled her thanks, but the man had already turned to Dex. ‘Sorry, Dexter, old chap, but I must drag you away from this very attractive young lady. My wife is expecting us at seven-thirty, and it is quite a drive.’

‘Yes, of course, Brice,’ Dex responded smoothly. And, as another man caught the chairman’s attention for a moment, he leaned towards Beth and, in a quick aside, added, ‘You’ve made quite an impression on Brice. Like older men, do you?’ he asked with a smile, but the edge of cynicism in his tone was unmistakable.

She looked uncertainly into his grey eyes. Was he teasing or what? But before she could answer Brice cut in.

‘Come on, Dex. I daren’t keep my wife waiting.’

‘Certainly, Brice.’ Dex straightened to his full height and, slanting Beth a quick glance, confirmed, ‘Seven-thirty, don’t forget. But in case you do, I will ring tomorrow to remind you,’ before turning on his heel and walking away with the chairman.

Beth followed him with her eyes; his dark head was bent towards the older man and he was seemingly deep in conversation with him as they exited the room. She let out her breath on a long sigh. She doubted if she really would see Dex again, and common-sense told her she would probably be better off without him.

Glancing around the room, she spotted her coat; someone had kindly placed it over a chair for her. The party seemed to be turning into some kind of stag night, with little appreciation of the fine wines on offer; it was more a case of who could down the most. There was nothing for her here. Crossing the room, she picked up her coat and pulled it on, wrapping it firmly around her.

Finally she spotted Mike near the door, and on her way out she collared him and hissed in his ear, ‘I’m leaving you to your booze-up! But don’t think I’ve forgotten. You owe me, and you owe me big for this, buster.’

‘Hey, you should be thanking me. You’ve only pulled one of the wealthiest bachelors around. I heard him ask you out.’

The one trouble with auburn hair, she thought wryly, was the inevitable tendency for blushes to form on the pale complexion that went with it. ‘Mr Giordanni? You know him?’ She hesitated, torn between the desire to escape and the desire to hear more about Dex.

‘Know him, sis? Not exactly, but I’ve heard of him. Everyone has. In the past ten years he has built up a huge business empire—he dabbles in everything, though there are some funny rumours as to how he got started. I know he owns a shipping line, and a string of hotels all over the globe—a couple of them here in London. Brice is hoping to get the contract to supply his hotels with liquor. Apparently, Giordanni has also just bought the Seymour Club in London—his reason for being here, I expect. His main home is somewhere in Italy, I believe.’

The more Mike talked, the more despondent Beth became. Dexter Giordanni was right out of her league, and she would be a fool to think otherwise.

‘Okay Mike, forget it.’ She tried to smile. ‘I’m off. Enjoy your night.’ And she left.

For a brief moment in time she had thought she had met the man of her dreams. Who was she kidding? Love at first sight was a myth, and in any case things like that never happened to Beth—except in her fantasies! Once more in the safety of her own apartment, Beth vowed for the hundredth time that never again would she get involved in Mike’s hare-brained schemes. As for Mr Giordanni, obviously he had simply been flirting with the only woman around at the time, and would never give her a second thought. Beth dismissed him from her mind. She would never see him again.

She showered and changed into a soft towelling robe, then curled up in the solitary armchair and sighed with pure contentment. Alone at last. Funny, as a child she had longed to be a part of a large family. Her own father had died when she was two and she had no memory of him. Her first stepfather had not lasted past her sixth birthday, when her mother, Leanora, had divorced him, and Beth had very little memory of him either.

Then had come Mike and his father, the lovely house on the English Riviera, overlooking the bay in Torquay and for a few years Beth had felt part of a family. Until her mother had decided a young actor suited her better and had divorced Mike’s dad to marry her toy-boy. Then she’d stuck Beth in a boarding school and taken off on tour.

For once, her mother had been the one to suffer when, a year later, the young man had divorced her. But nothing stopped her mother for long, though, Beth thought dryly, stirring in her seat. Three years ago, Leanora had married an Australian cattle rancher. The poor man had been visiting Devon to trace his ancestors when Leanora had convinced him he needed a wife. Beth had never even met Leanora’s fifth husband—technically her stepfather.

After the fiasco this afternoon, she had reached the conclusion that there was a great deal to be said for being an orphan. Without family to get her into trouble, life was a joy…

But later a little imp of mischief whispered in her head as she curled up in her cosy bed and tried to sleep. An even greater joy might be hers if the outrageously attractive Italian Dexter Giordanni actually turned up tomorrow night to take her out to dinner. With his handsome face clear in her mind’s eye, she fell asleep, the eroticism of her dreams a testament to the earth-shattering effect he had had upon her.

CHAPTER TWO

BETH eyed the pile of laundry with a wry grimace. Saturday was her day for washing, cleaning the apartment and shopping—always in that order. Usually she enjoyed having the weekend to herself, but today she felt oddly restless. With a sigh, she picked up the garments and shoved them in the washing machine. Turning it on to the correct setting, she decided to break with habit and do her shopping immediately—not for a second admitting she wanted to get out and back quickly just in case Dexter Giordanni telephoned.

By late afternoon, her apartment spotless, her clothes dried and ironed, she was beginning to regret turning down her friend Mary’s offer to go to the cinema with her. She had a sinking feeling her Saturday night was going to be spent alone in front of the television, and it was her own stupid fault. A man like Dexter Giordanni was not going to call the likes of her in a million years…

Still, she might as well shower and wash her hair; she had nothing else to do. And with that thought in mind she stripped off her jeans and shirt in the bedroom and padded to the bathroom. The ringing of the telephone had her sprinting back to the kitchen like an Olympic runner.

She snatched the receiver off the wall. ‘Yes?’ she said breathlessly.

‘I hope I did not disturb you,’ the deep, dark voice echoed down the line.

If only he knew, Beth thought, grinning to herself. Just the sound of his voice disturbed her more than any other man she had ever known… ‘No, no, not at all. I was just about to step in the shower,’ she told him truthfully.

‘Ah, the image is incantevole, but I must not delay you. I simply called to confirm our dinner date: seven-thirty, yes?’

‘What does incant… whatever mean?’ Beth asked, diverted by his lapse into his native language.

‘Enchanting… Ciao.’ And he replaced his receiver.

Beth stood holding the telephone for a long moment. Dex thought she was enchanting. Taking a deep, contented breath, she replaced her receiver and dreamily made her way back to the bathroom.

An hour later, wearing only a towel, Beth stood in front of her open wardrobe and viewed its contents with a jaundiced eye. Her date would be here in twenty minutes and she had nothing to wear. Apart from a couple of tailored suits she wore for work, the rest of her clothes were all casual. She was very much a jeans and sweater sort of girl, and somehow the red wool shirt-dress she kept for special occasions looked far too plain. Why, oh, why hadn’t she spent the afternoon shopping for an elegant, sophisticated dress to match the sophisticated Dex, instead of lolling around her apartment?

She glanced across the room to the window. The weather hadn’t changed; it was still a grey, cold, overcast autumn evening, and with a resigned sigh she took her only sophisticated dress out of the wardrobe. She had bought it in July for her graduation ball. A simple black satin slip dress, it had a delicate gold thread shimmering though it, tiny shoestring straps, a scooped neck and back and an A-line skirt that ended a few inches above her knee. She dropped it on the bed and turned back to the wardrobe. The frock was fine, but she would be freezing in today’s weather.

Unlike some young woman of her age, who quite happily went out in all weathers with arms and legs bare, Beth was thoroughly sensible, and not prepared to get pneumonia for the sake of fashion. So reluctantly she dragged from the top shelf of a wardrobe a plain black wool shawl, a purchase from one of the high street chains, and threw it on the bed.

She crossed the room, opened the chest of drawers and withdrew a pair of delicate black lace panties and matching garter belt. Dropping the towel to the floor, she quickly pulled on her underwear, then, lifting the dress from the bed, slid it over her head. Cut on the bias, it was too low at the back to allow the wearing of a bra. But, eyeing her reflection in the mirror, she thought, not bad!

Sitting down at the dressing table, she quickly applied a moisturiser to her fine skin. She took a little longer than usual over her eye make-up, accentuating her large eyes with the merest hint of pale aquamarine eyeshadow at the corners and a fine line of brown kohl around the top lid, finishing off with brown-black mascara to enhance her long thick lashes. A gloss of natural pink for her lips, and she was almost ready.

She picked up her hairbrush and brushed her auburn curls vigorously. Then, with a deft twist, she piled her hair on the top of her head, securing it with a discreetly coloured band, and finished off by pushing a few strategic curls firmly in place.

Satisfied with the result, she stood up, and from the dressing table drawer removed a pair of fine black nylon stockings. Carefully pulling them on one by one, she clipped the small black suspenders in place and, straightening, smoothed her skirt down over her thighs. She turned to look over her shoulder at her image: no bumps or brief line! Good.

She slipped her feet into classic black patent leather pumps with two-and-a-half-inch heels. She needed the height, she reminded herself, before taking a small black patent clutch purse from the dressing table and quickly transferring a few essentials from her everyday shoulder bag.

The doorbell rang, disturbing the silence and panicking Beth. She grabbed the black shawl from the bed and slung it around her shoulders before dashing out of the bedroom to the front door. She pressed the button for the intercom and heard that familiar rich voice.

‘Giordanni, here.’

‘I’ll be right down,’ she responded. For some reason she was not quite ready to ask him into her home.

The elevator deposited her in the foyer, and when she saw him leaning indolently against the porter’s desk, dressed in an immaculately fitting black dinner suit with a white silk shirt and perfectly knotted black velvet bow tie, her heart skipped a beat. Suddenly she had a vivid image of herself untying the bow tie and running her fingers over the broad expanse of chest, and she wished she had asked him up to her apartment. She caught her breath at the uncharacteristic erotic thought.

Consequently she blushed fire-engine red when, straightening to his full height, he strolled across and quite naturally took her arm, and looked down at her.

‘I was right, you look enchanting. Shall we go?’

Her, ‘Hello, Dex,’ was greeted with the briefest of slanting smiles before he was ushering her out of the door and into a chauffeur-driven limousine.

‘I don’t keep a car in London. I am not here that often, and when I am I use a rental service. So I hope you don’t object to a driver this evening, Beth. Plus, I thought we might celebrate our meeting with a few glasses of champagne, and I never drink and drive.’

‘A very laudable resolution,’ she managed to say calmly. She cast him a sidelong glance, almost furtively. He was as devastatingly attractive as she remembered, and, sitting next to him in the close confines of the back seat of the car, with the pressure of his thigh lightly pressing against her own and the soft elusive scent of his aftershave teasing her nostrils—or maybe it was simply the scent of the man himself—she was completely overwhelmed by Dex, the car—everything.

A large hand closed over her small hands, which were clenched in her lap. ‘Beth, really. ‘‘A laudable resolution’’? My knowledge of your language is excellent, but what does that mean?’ he asked with a chuckle, and lifted her hands to his lips so she was forced to look at him, his silver eyes glinting down into hers. ‘Beth, I like you for your openness, your honesty. Don’t go all stuffy on me now.’

The touch of his lips on her hand and the humour in his gaze excited her, but also calmed her nerves. If he wanted honesty he could have it, she thought, secretly pleased. ‘You’re right, Dex, ‘‘laudable’’ was a bit much. But you make me rather nervous. I’ve never been out with a man quite like you before, or sat in a chauffeur-driven limousine. It’s quite awesome.’

He lowered her hands to her lap and gave them a gentle squeeze before letting go. ‘You are not frightened of me, Beth, are you?’ he asked softly, but before she could respond he added, ‘You have no need to be. I have only your best interests at heart, and I am sure you will very soon get used to my great wealth and everything else; women usually do.’

Beth looked up, not all sure she liked his last comment, and thought she caught a flash of something very like cynicism in his eyes. But, realising she was watching him, Dex turned the full force of his megawatt smile on her small face and dropped a brief, swift kiss on her forehead.

‘Don’t look so worried, little one. Tonight we are going to have fun, I promise.’

The brief kiss banished all her doubts, and half an hour later, seated opposite Dex in the most exclusive restaurant in London, she wondered why she had worried. He was the perfect companion. Articulate, charming, Dex ordered the meal with an efficiency and knowledge of fine food Beth marvelled at. But he was not above making her laugh with his description of the waiter.

Very quickly he made her feel completely at ease, though every so often he very gently flirted with her, making her aware by a touch, a glance, of his purely masculine interest in her as a woman. Or maybe not so pure… Beth did not know, and she had not the experience to make a judgement.

They had exchanged snippets of information about themselves. Dex was thirty-three to her twenty-one. He knew she was a graphic artist, and she knew he was extremely wealthy, as he told her in great detail how many companies he owned. In fact, his wealth struck the one discordant note in her otherwise rapt fascination with the man.

‘You’re not one of those bleeding-heart radical types who object to a man being disgustingly rich, are you?’ he asked jokingly.

For a second she felt his humour did not ring true. But, dismissing the uneasy thought with a toss of her head, she aimed for a sophisticated response.

‘Not at all. Someone once said that no woman can be too rich or too thin, or something like that, and I’m inclined to agree.’ She wasn’t sure she meant what she had said, but it seemed to please Dex.

‘Good girl! I knew the moment I saw you you were my type of woman,’ he drawled, watching her with a gleam of satisfaction in his grey eyes.

Beth felt the colour rise in her cheeks. She was delighted he thought she was his type, but not absolutely sure if she had been complimented or insulted.

By the time the main course arrived Beth had just about got her chaotic emotions under control, and was actually beginning to feel as if she had known the man for years.

‘Honestly, Dex, I don’t think I’ll be able to eat all this.’ She eyed her duck and cranberry sauce. It looked delicious, but they had started with roasted asparagus salad, followed by a fish course—A trio of smoked fish with beetroot—and now, with the main course before her, she wondered if she would ever get through it all.

‘Eat what you like and leave the rest. For myself, I am a big man with a big appetite. I intend to enjoy…’ His silver eyes gleamed with blatant desire as they caught and held hers, then deliberately dropped to the soft valley of her breasts, delicately exposed by the neckline of her dress. ‘Everything…’ he husked, his gaze lifting to her face. ‘It is the only way to live.’

Beth was not stupid, she knew what he meant, and she could feel the colour rising in her cheeks yet again, as her stomach clenched. She knew it had nothing to do with the food but everything to do with the potent appeal of the man opposite.

‘Eat. I did not mean to embarrass you,’ Dex offered quietly. ‘But you have the most amazing effect on me. I look at you and I want you in my bed.’

Beth gasped out loud, and his eyes narrowed with piercing intensity on her flushed face.

‘You know this is true, and you feel the same; don’t try to deny it,’ he commanded arrogantly, but then in a softer tone he added, ‘But perhaps now is not the time to talk of such matters.’

She wanted to deny it. His supreme confidence was somehow insulting. But she knew what he said was true, so instead she contented herself with fiddling with her fork and asking, ‘Are you always so blunt on a first date?’

‘No,’ he said, and, reaching across the table, he covered the hand holding her fork, ‘Only with you, Beth.’ Suddenly grinning, he added, ‘So, tell me more about yourself. Your friends, parents, whatever. Talk to me, so I can take my mind off your luscious body and get back to my meal, hmm?’

He was impossible, but Beth found herself grinning back and doing exactly as he had said. ‘Family—I don’t have much. I don’t remember my father; he died when I was a baby. I’ve spent most of my life in Devon with my mother. She had aspirations to be a famous singer, but unfortunately also a tendency to get married a lot. She is on her fifth husband now and lives in Australia. I haven’t seen her for three years, though we do write occasionally.’ Beth broke off, raised her glass to her mouth and took a gulp of champagne. She didn’t really like talking about Leanora, and sometimes it still upset her, though she never liked to admit it.

‘That explains a lot,’ Dex murmured.

‘Sorry, what did you say?’ Lost in her own thoughts for a moment, she had missed his comment.

‘That must have hurt a lot,’ Dex repeated softly.

‘No, not really,’ she quickly assured him, comforted by the sympathy in his tone. ‘I got used to it, and on the plus side I acquired a stepbrother—Mike. If it hadn’t been for Mike I wouldn’t have met you.’ She stopped. The champagne was going to her head and she was revealing more than she meant to.

Dex, a smile curving his firm mouth, lifted his glass. ‘A toast to a much-married mum and Mike, without whom you and I would never have met.’

Embarrassed, but oddly pleased, Beth lifted her glass and returned the toast. Replacing her glass on the table, she said, ‘No more champagne; I think I’ve had quite enough.’ And, pushing her almost empty plate slightly forward, she continued, ‘No more food, either. It was delicious, but I really can’t eat any more.’

‘I don’t have that problem,’ Dex drawled, clearing his plate and placing the cutlery on it. ‘In fact, I think I’ll have a dessert; I love sweet things.’ And, catching her green eyes with his, he continued throatily, ‘You are the sweetest thing I have met in a long time. Can I have you, Beth?’ Then, tossing his head back, he laughed out loud at her look of confusion.

She wanted to be offended but his laughter was infectious, so she smiled, then laughed as well. ‘You know, I’ve discovered something about you, Dexter Giordanni,’ she finally managed to say pertly. ‘You are an incorrigible flirt.’

‘Only with you, Beth, only ever with you.’

If only she could believe him, she thought, gazing at him as he paid the bill, adding a very generous tip. She had been out with plenty of men—well, not plenty, more like half a dozen. Her last date had been with a young man from the office. She had spent an enjoyable evening in a local wine bar with Dave, but they had both decided without a word being spoken they were destined to be workmates and nothing more. Now, watching Dex, she knew this was different. She could very easily fall in love with him, and it frightened her even as it excited her.

He turned his head and caught her staring, and one dark brow arched enquiringly. ‘Have I got a smudge on my nose?’ he asked, perfectly aware she had been studying him.

‘No, you have a very nice nose,’ she shot back. ‘I was simply thinking what a lovely evening it has been.’ That was not exactly a lie, she told herself, rather proud of her ability to appear cool and collected in his sophisticated presence, when inside her heart was beating like a drum.

‘Has been? But it is not over yet; the night has hardly begun.’ Getting to his feet, he took the shawl the waiter handed to him. ‘Come on, you look the sort of girl who likes to take chances. I will show you my new casino.’

Beth stood up and smoothed her skirt down over her slender hips, intensely aware of Dex’s blatantly sensual gaze following the movement of her hands as his own large hands carefully slipped her wrap around her shoulders,

‘You look beautiful,’ he murmured, his hands lingering for a moment on her shoulders. His dark head bent and his lips brushed the top of her head. ‘Let’s get out of here before I make a fool of myself.’ Slipping his hand down to the small of her back, he guided her out of the restaurant and into the waiting limousine.

Inside, seemingly casually, Dex curved his long arm around her shoulders and pulled her swiftly close to him. All Beth’s hard-won poise deserted her in an instant, and, looking up at him through the thick brush of her lashes, she quivered at the glimpse of fire that blazed in his eyes.

‘You’re safe with me, Beth,’ he murmured softly.

‘I know.’ Beguiled by his many compliments and real desire for her, she believed him, and snuggled into his side with a deep sigh of contentment. The rest of the trip was accomplished in a companionable silence until the car stopped.

Sitting up, Beth glanced out of the window. ‘Is this it?’ she said feeling rather disappointed. There were no neon lights or flashing signs, simply an elegant black and gold door in the centre of what looked like a typical Georgian terraced house.

‘Discretion is the name of the game,’ Dex offered, helping her out of the car. Taking her hand in his, he led her across the pavement and through the black door into another world.

As soon as they walked into the entrance foyer a young woman dashed to take her wrap. Then a hard-faced man appeared and Dex introduced her—the casino manager, a Mr Black, a name Beth found very appropriate; he was swarthy, stocky, and looked dangerous while his voice oozed charm.

She had never been in a casino before, but when Dex ushered her into a huge room with a graceful curved staircase leading to the upper floor it didn’t take her long to realise it was a very serious business. Glittering crystal chandeliers illuminated a dozen or more tables surrounded by smartly dressed people. The walls were lined with slot machines, like an army of alien, robotic guards, with yet more people seated in front of them. But it was the avid expressions on the customers’ faces that Beth found somehow chilling.

‘You look a little stunned,’ Dex opined, with a dry smile. ‘Surely you have been in a casino before?’

‘No, I haven’t, and I can’t believe so many people are prepared to waste money this way,’ she said bluntly. Her answer seemed to surprise him, but not for long.

‘Then you ain’t seen nothing yet, babe,’ he drawled in a mock-American accent. His grey gaze swept down over the soft curve of her breasts and back to her face, and with a seductive look, he added, ‘Stick with me, babe, and I’ll show you a good time.’ And, putting an arm around her waist, he chuckled at her look of outrage.

‘Fool,’ Beth laughed, realising he was teasing, and gave him a sharp dig in the ribs with her elbow.

‘I know, but I can’t resist teasing you.’ At that point Mr Black said something in Dex’s ear, and the amusement left his face.

‘Sorry, Beth, I need to go to the office, but I’ll show you the rest on the way. This is just for starters. The bar and restaurant are through there.’ He gestured with his free hand as they reached the bottom of a grand staircase. ‘Up here there are two more gaming rooms, where the stakes rise accordingly. Plus the offices,’ he informed her as they ascended the stairs, his arm dropping from her waist.

Beth watched him as they walked up, and saw a stranger. Dex was suddenly all efficiency, no trace of humour left. Tall and aloof, he strode up the stairs and through to another room, taking deferential greetings from various people with a word, or a nod, and a smile that never reached his eyes.

His plain black dinner suit and conservative white shirt could not conceal the powerful muscled body beneath, or a certain air of danger about him. The other people in the room faded into insignificance beside him. It was obvious to Beth, and everyone else, that this man was the master of all he surveyed, the hard-headed, powerful ruler of the lot; the Boss. It wasn’t just his height or his build, but the intangible aura he carried with him, a dynamism that radiated from him, a supreme confidence in his own worth that made weaker mortals shrink back.

Beth shuddered; a ghost is walking over my grave, she thought, but dismissed the notion when Dex halted her with a large hand curving over her shoulder. The touch of his hand on her bare flesh was enough to make her forget every rational thought.

His dark head bent towards her, and in her heightened emotional state she imagined he was going to kiss her, but she was sadly disillusioned when he said starkly, ‘This room is for the high rollers, where the real money changes hands. Black is getting you some chips so you can play.’

Play! She wouldn’t know where to start. Curious, Beth looked around: no slot machines here, but a peculiar silence, punctuated by the occasional voice of a croupier. Around the large green baize tables were expensively dressed customers, some obviously from the Middle East, judging by their garb, and the few ladies present, mostly old, wearing enough jewellery to pay off the National Debt.

‘Here, Beth.’ Dex thrust a handful of round tokens at her. ‘Enjoy yourself. I won’t be long.’

‘Can’t I come with you?’ she blurted, suddenly feeling completely out of her element. ‘I’m not a gambler, and I don’t think I want to be.’

His fingers caught her chin and he tilted her head up. ‘You look stunningly beautiful, Beth, and I will get my business concluded much quicker without you to distract me. Understand?’ His grey eyes roamed over her delicate features. ‘You will be perfectly all right on your own; no one will bother you.’ His glance slid down her body like a warm caress, and back to her face again. ‘Everyone knows you’re with me,’ he ended with unconscious arrogance, and, letting his hand slide from her chin to her shoulder, he squeezed her gently in a casual reassuring gesture.

‘Yes… w-well,’ she stuttered. Her flesh burned beneath his fingers and her body was aware of him with every pore.

She tore her gaze from his and glanced distractedly around the room. Her green eyes widened in astonishment as she caught sight of someone she knew—Paul. Even in this crowd he stood out.

Tall, his blond hair turning here and there to white, his exquisitely tailored dinner suit fitting his slim, elegant body to perfection, he looked what he was: a man of distinction. The lines of character in his face reflected his fifty-three years, but in no way detracted from his handsome features.

Paul Morris… He looked across, his blue eyes surprised when they met Beth’s. She watched as he made his way towards her, determination in every stride. But he was supposed to be in Italy. What was he doing back so soon? she wondered. Her lips curled in a slow smile. At least she wouldn’t be alone.

She glanced back at Dex, whose hand hadn’t left her shoulder. ‘Okay,’ she said. But he was not looking at her, instead he was watching Paul approach, with a dark frown on his face.

‘No, you are right. You are coming with me,’ Dex ordered curtly, his hand dropping to her waist and hauling her hard against him.

‘Bethany, what on earth are you doing here?’ Paul stopped a foot away, and, taking in the proprietary arm around her waist, he flashed a hard smile at Dex. ‘Giordanni. I’d heard you were buying the place. Congratulations.’ Then, turning worried blue eyes back to Beth, he continued, ‘I didn’t know you knew Mr Giordanni, Bethany.’

‘And I thought you were in Italy,’ she shot back. She had dined with him ten days ago and he had told her he was going to his estate in Italy.

‘Oh, I was, and I will be again in another few hours.’ Paul glanced at the gold Rolex on his wrist. ‘This is just a flying visit—twenty-four hours. I had some business that couldn’t wait. That’s why I didn’t call you. But enough about me. What are you doing here? You don’t gamble,’ he ended sternly.

Beth opened her mouth to answer but was forestalled by Dex.

‘The lady is with me, Morris.’ His fingers nipped her waist, demanding her compliance. ‘And we have urgent business to attend to in private—haven’t we, darling?’ Dex’s grey eyes captured hers and his head lowered, his firm mouth brushing her parted lips. It was a fleeting kiss, but it was enough to set her heart racing, and she stared back at him, too dumb to answer.

‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Beth.’ Paul said, bringing her back into the conversation.

She looked at Paul and smiled a misty, bemused smile. ‘Yes, Paul.’

Paul sighed, a wry smile of acceptance curving his mouth. She was a grown woman; it had to happen some time.

‘You’re a man of the world, Morris, I’m sure you understand,’ Dexter cut into the silence. ‘Enjoy your gambling and excuse us.’ And with a deft twist Dexter spun Beth round.

She only had time to call, ‘See you, Paul,’ over her shoulder as, with almost indecent haste, Dex urged her towards the back of the room and a large nondescript door. The incongruous note was the man who guarded it and opened it at their approach. He looked like a heavyweight boxer with the nose to match.

She registered that they were in a dimly lit hallway, and had opened her mouth to ask where the fire was—she would have quite liked to talk to Paul—when she registered the stark fury in Dex’s steely eyes.

‘Old man Morris a friend of yours, is he?’

‘Yes, a very good—’ She never got the chance to finish the sentence.

Dex pushed her back against the wall, his dark head swooping down, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss of pure male dominance. Shocked by his sudden aggression, the fierce pressure of his mouth, the feel of his huge body hard against her much smaller frame, she instinctively struggled to break free. But she was helpless against his superior strength, and his mouth ground against hers with a demanding arrogance that was as exciting as it was alien to her.

Then, suddenly, something peculiar happened. One second she was fighting him and the next she felt her body melting against his as his lips gentled against her mouth. His kiss softened, his tongue traced the outline of her mouth, his teeth nibbled gently on her bottom lip until, with a sigh of complete surrender, she opened her mouth to him. She lifted her hands, her fingers tangling in the silky black thickness of his hair, and kissed Dex back without realising what she was doing.

His mouth burned against hers, his tongue toying with hers in an erotic, thrusting dance. Her hands slid to his broad shoulders. She felt his muscles tense beneath the smooth fabric of his jacket and trembled as his hand slid down her naked throat, his long fingers tracing the soft curve of her breast and palming its lush fullness in his hand, before sliding lower, tracing the indentation of her waist, the soft flare of her hips. It was only when she felt his hand stroke up her leg to her naked thigh she began to panic again. ‘No.’ Beth uttered a cry of protest and closed her hand around his strong wrist.

Dex finally raised his head, his breathing surprisingly unsteady. ‘Stockings as well. What are you trying to do to me?’ he groaned as he slid his hand from under the hem of her short dress and, drawing away from her, brushed his ruffled hair from his brow. They stared at each other, neither one capable of speech for a moment. But it was Dex who recovered first.

‘I guessed you would be dynamite, but I admit even I am surprised at exactly how explosive we are together.’ His grey eyes glittered down into hers. She stared back, her pulse thudding erratically, her green eyes wide and bemused. She was so stunned by her own violent reaction, she couldn’t speak.

‘I was right; I should have left you to the gaming tables. You are more than a distraction; you’re a lethal weapon, lady.’ He grinned, a self-deprecating smile, and, clasping her hand in his, he added, ‘Come and I will show you the rest of my newly acquired toys, before we get into any more trouble.’

Beth was grateful for his matter-of-fact attitude; it helped to calm her leaping responses. Then Mr Black appeared at the end of the hall and it was back to business for Dex. They left her sitting in a functional office and retired to an inner sanctum, Dex having explained that it was the manager’s office and also the strongroom.

Beth spent the rest of their evening together in an emotional haze, trying to deal with her chaotic response to Dex. She was glad when, on returning to the outer office, he suggested taking her home. In the car he arranged to call for her the next morning at ten, and, on walking her to the door of her apartment, the light kiss he pressed on her lips was warm and somehow reassuring.

Tired, but happy, she crawled into bed, expecting to sleep. But she lay awake for hours, her mind reliving the events of the night. The intimate dinner with Dex, the sound of his deep, sexy voice, the touch of his hand. She tossed restlessly, her body unnaturally warm, her breasts hardening as she remembered the casino, and the sudden passionate interlude on the way to the office.

She turned over onto her stomach and buried her head in the pillow. Any more erotic memories, Beth told herself sternly, and she would never sleep. Closing her eyes, she tried to make her mind blank, but something niggled at her conscience until finally she remembered.

Dex had thrust the chips in her hand and told her to play. It had been odd… One minute he had been determined to leave her at the gaming tables, and yet he had changed his mind in a flash when she had spoken to Paul. Maybe Dex was jealous! Surely that proved he was as smitten with her as she was with him. On that happy notion, Beth drifted off to sleep.

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