The Gold Collection. Maggie Cox

agree?’ she demanded furiously, her eyes widening at the sensual gleam in his.

      ‘I was confident of playing on your sympathy for my secretary,’ he said coolly, ‘but, failing that, I can think of several other methods of persuasion that we’d both enjoy—although they may well result in us being late for dinner.’ His slow smile triggered alarm bells and she bit back her retort as her mind fantasised about how he would bend her to his will. With ease, that was for sure, she acknowledged on a wave of self-disgust. Just the thought of his hands and mouth caressing her was enough to send liquid heat pooling between her thighs. If he touched her, kissed her again, she seriously doubted her ability to resist him—and he knew it.

      She swallowed and tore her eyes from his mocking smile, tears of shame prickling behind her eyelids. If she wanted to retain any vestige of her self-respect, she would have to agree to go to dinner with him because she could not risk him persuading her.

      ‘It was kind of your PA to go to so much trouble,’ she said tightly, carefully not looking at him. ‘And because I know how unwell she must be feeling at the moment, I’ll agree to take her place tonight.’ Clutching the box he had given her, she headed for the door, her back ramrod straight as his softly spoken comment followed her.

      ‘I hadn’t expected you to give in so easily, chérie. What a pity,’ he drawled with genuine regret in his voice. ‘I was looking forward to…coaxing you round to my way of thinking.’

      Hours later Freya studied her reflection in the mirror. The dress Zac’s secretary had chosen for her was a deceptively simple floor-length black sheath with a lace overlay, narrow shoulder straps and a neckline that plunged lower than Freya was happy with. When she had first realised how much of her cleavage was exposed she’d seriously considered changing into something else, but challenging Zac was not a good idea and she was afraid that if he tried to coax her, he would almost certainly win. Instead she had piled her hair on top of her head, and slipped on a pair of high-heeled sandals. Now, deciding she was ready, she swept out to meet Zac, her pulse rate quickening at the flare of undisguised desire in his eyes when he caught sight of her.

      It gave her a fierce thrill of feminine triumph to realise that she was not the only one to be suffering from sexual frustration. Zac wanted her and was fighting the same battle to control his hunger. The knowledge empowered her and, instead of slinking shyly into the lounge, she sauntered confidently across the room, aware of his eyes lingering on the creamy swell of her breasts.

      He looked breathtaking in his black tuxedo and white shirt that contrasted with his olive-gold skin, but for the first time she felt almost his equal and she met his gaze steadily as faint colour briefly highlighted his sharp cheekbones. The atmosphere in the room throbbed with tension and for one wild, crazy moment she wondered how he would react if she walked over to him and kissed his mouth with all the pent-up longing she was struggling to control.

      Of course she did no such thing. She wasn’t completely stupid and, besides, one kiss would not have been enough for either of them. What she really wanted was to feel the hard length of him deep inside her as he drove her to the pinnacle of sexual ecstasy—and that was never going to happen again, she reminded herself firmly.

      She was shaken out of her erotic fantasies by his terse voice informing her that they had to leave, but she felt his brooding stare on her as they rode the lift down to the car park. The short journey to the hotel where they were meeting his American client was completed in silence, but once there Zac immediately exerted his usual charismatic charm as he ushered her into the bar and introduced her to Chester Warren and his wife.

      From then on Freya concentrated on chatting to Carolyn Warren and struck up an instant rapport with the older woman when she discovered that she originated from a small Hampshire village, a few miles inland from Freya’s home town. After cocktails at the hotel, they moved on to the wonderfully ornate Salle Garnier Opera House where the performance by the Monte Carlo Ballet Company was truly magical, and afterwards they returned to the hotel for a late dinner.

      ‘So, Freya, do you like living here in Monaco?’ Chester Warren queried when they had finished eating. ‘Carolyn tells me you’re from the same part of England where she was born—quaint little place, although I can never remember its name,’ he added cheerfully.

      Freya glanced across the dance floor to where Carolyn Warren was dancing with Zac. ‘I love Monaco,’ she replied, ‘but I don’t live here. I’m just a…friend of Zac’s and I’m staying here with my daughter for a few days. I’ll be going home soon,’ she added, wondering why the thought caused a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She would be glad to get back to reality, she told herself firmly. She didn’t belong here in this billionaire’s playground and she had no place in Zac’s life.

      The bleakness in her voice caused Chester to stare at her with undisguised curiosity. ‘Friends, eh,’ he drawled. ‘Well, Zac’s a fine man—as charming as his father was and just as ruthless in the boardroom,’ he said on a note of admiration. ‘I remember when Charles died a couple of years back, there were some on the Deverell board who believed Zac wasn’t up to the job of Chief Executive. He was seen as a playboy—you know, fast cars, plenty of women.’ Chester chuckled. ‘But to give him his dues, he worked like a dog to prove he was a worthy successor to his father even though he was pretty cut up at Charles’ death. Now, of course, Deverell’s profits are soaring and Zac has the full support of his board, but I hear he still works all the hours God sends.’ Chester winked at her conspiratorially. ‘Maybe he needs to get himself a wife, although he’s shown no signs yet of wanting to settle down. I guess it would take a pretty special lady to tame him.’

      ‘She would have to have the patience of a saint for a start,’ Freya agreed tightly, despising herself for the way her heart lurched at the idea of Zac getting married.

      ‘Why, chérie, you make me sound as though I’m an ogre,’ an amused voice sounded in her ear and she swung her head round sharply, her eyes clashing with Zac’s glinting gaze. ‘I’m not that unbearable, am I?’

      Cheeks flaming, Freya gave him a look that warned him he did not want to know her opinion of him, but to her annoyance he gave her one of his devastating smiles and tugged her to her feet before she could think of an excuse not to dance with him.

      ‘I obviously need to demonstrate my charming side,’ he murmured smoothly as he swept her across the dance floor.

      ‘Forget it,’ Freya snapped. ‘I know exactly what you are, Zac, and your famous charm does nothing for me.’ She tried to ease away from him but his arms tightened around her waist and she gave a shocked gasp when she felt the rigid proof of his arousal straining against her pelvis.

      ‘You disappoint me, ma petite, especially as you can be in no doubt of what you’re doing to me right now,’ he said mockingly. He placed his hand in the small of her back and exerted enough pressure so that she was forced up against him.

      ‘You are disgusting,’ Freya hissed as she tried to ignore the warmth that was flooding through her. The music slowed and Zac steered her around the dance floor, each subtle movement of his hips bringing his aroused body into closer contact with hers. In desperation Freya closed her eyes against the scorching heat of his gaze, but the sensations he was arousing in her only intensified and she shuddered when his hand inched lower down her back and made small, circular movements across the top of her buttocks. She stumbled and clung to him as the music faded to the periphery of her mind. Nothing existed but Zac, and the subtle, sensuous rub of his hand evoked a delicious, quivering excitement between her thighs.

      Without the barrier of their clothes he would be free to take her properly and thrust deep into her, she thought dreamily, the image of him doing just that suddenly so stark in her head that her muscles clamped and to her utter shock she felt tiny spasms of pleasure radiate from her central core. She felt Zac tense, but she couldn’t prevent her climax and as she shook uncontrollably he dipped his head and captured her startled cry with his mouth.

      It was over almost instantly and as she came down reality intruded, bringing with it the music and hubbub of voices from the dance floor. Oh, God, what had she done?