A combination of self-delusion and the cocktails that were not as innocuous as they’d looked got her through the doors and into the expensive-smelling wood-panelled foyer when the reality of what she was doing hit her, shame and mind-clearing horror following close behind.
She turned and would have headed back through the door had a voice not suddenly nailed her feet to the Aubusson carpet.
‘Would you like a drink?’
Shocked recognition and stomach-tightening excitement grabbed her as, her breath coming faster, she spun back slowly on her heels.
With her heart trying to batter its way through her ribcage, her eyes travelled in an upward sweep over the long, lean length of his body, clad this evening in a beautifully cut dark grey suit, underneath which was a pale blue shirt open at the neck to reveal the tanned brown skin of his throat, and fine enough to suggest the musculature of his chest and torso. The expensive tailoring didn’t do anything to lessen the aura of raw, head-spinning masculinity he projected.
‘No, I didn’t come here for—’ She blinked and stopped. What had she come here for?
Exactly what he thinks you did, the voice in her head responded.
He took a step forward and held out his hand. ‘I’m Roman Bardales.’
After the faintest hesitation she reached out, a shock of electricity of a lethal voltage running through her body as his warm brown fingers closed around her hand and didn’t move, and she saw his polished brown eyes widen as though he too had felt the same stinging shock.
‘Marisa Rayner.’ She pulled her hand away.
‘I’m glad you came.’
‘I... I didn’t...’ One darkly delineated brow lifted to a sardonic angle and she rushed on. ‘Well, I am here.’
‘So I see.’ The comprehensive sweep of his brown eyes as they slid over her body made her shiver. ‘And now?’
‘Now?’ She had to force the word past the ache in her dry throat.
‘Are you coming up?’ The slight jerk of his head was directed at the lift behind him.
He didn’t say for a coffee, or a nightcap, because they both knew that wasn’t why she was there.
‘I... I don’t do things like this.’
‘OK,’ he said slowly in acknowledgment, and then he did nothing else to influence her decision besides standing there looking gorgeous enough to melt her bones.
Marisa had known deep down that she was just going through the motions pretending to delay. The decision had already been made as soon as she had made her way to the hotel this evening. Her struggle now was for appearances—her own, not his.
His impressive shoulders lifted in the faintest of shrugs. ‘We could go for a walk instead?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I’ll...’ She expelled a deep breath and started to move towards the lifts.
CHAPTER TWO
THE YOUNGEST ADDITION to the Bardales company was anxious to make a good impression, having checked and double-checked everything on board the private jet was as it should be. Instead of joining the other staff, who were chatting and drinking coffee while they waited for their passenger to arrive, Alex made his way down the steps looking for the chief steward to ask if there was anything else he could do.
He was a shiny foot off the tarmac of the private landing strip when he spotted the man he was looking for in conversation with the plane’s pilot. Probably not the best idea to disturb them, he decided. Besides, there was such a thing as being too keen.
Alex was about to turn and retrace his steps when he spotted the cloud of dust in the distance on the road that snaked its way across the red earth with the mountains as a stunning backdrop.
He paused, watching the cloud of dust getting nearer, feeling a pang of envy as the sleek outline of the designer car emerged, barely slowing its breakneck speed as it passed through the tall security gates that magically opened as it approached.
The car drew to a halt on the tarmac and a tall, dark-haired figure emerged. He slammed the door hard enough to take it off its hinges and removed a pair of dark shades, tucking them into a pocket before sweeping the area with eyes that, even at this distance, appeared arctic cold to the new recruit. Alex took an involuntary step backwards, experiencing a stab of relief when a member of the security team, a fellow newcomer, moved forward to intercept the stranger, albeit without a lot of enthusiasm, and who could blame him? The broad-shouldered figure was emanating an aura of danger that enveloped his frame as visibly as the dust had enveloped his supercar.
Alex looked on curiously as the security guard moved back again...everyone present on the landing strip was stepping back to allow the unimpeded progress of the tall man, who looked capable of demolishing anything that got in his way.
Initially confused, Alex began to make more sense of the scene as the figure got close enough for him to recognise the carved contours of his face—some sense at least, but now the confusion remained for another reason.
Did his employer lead a double life?
True, Alex had never met the man in person, but he’d seen him in a photo when he’d pored over the company website before his interview, until he’d felt he knew everything about the Bardales brand that stood, so the logo proclaimed, for ethical quality.
In the photos the head of the company had looked sharply tailored and pristine; today he was wearing faded jeans that possessed more than a few frayed holes that had certainly not been placed there by any designer, and a dark tee shirt that clung to the well-developed contours of his powerful chest and bagged around his washboard-flat belly, giving a glimpse of the muscle ridges there, his dusty boots kicking up little flurries of earth as he walked.
In every photo Alex had ever seen, his employer’s black hair had been fashionably cropped, but the man approaching now wore it long
