An Irresistible Temptation: Master of Fortune / The Temptation Of Rory Monahan. Elizabeth Bevarly

the kind of woman he’d always been attracted to. She was so forthright. She wasn’t just out for herself and what she could get.

      That was more refreshing than he would have imagined.

      “I just want us both to be successful,” she said.

      He stood up and walked around to the front of his desk, leaning back against it so that he faced her. “Thank you, Astrid. I will do my best to keep my baser instincts in check, but I’m not sure I’ll be successful.”

      “I’m going to keep dressing in my ultraprofessional suits,” she said.

      He laughed. It wasn’t the clothing or her sexy body that was making him want her, though they definitely played a part. It was the woman she was, but he doubted telling her would help either of them.

      * * *

      It was a late night almost three weeks into her tenure at Everest Records. She’d been on the phone with a number of radio stations throughout the U.K. and Europe to make sure that everyone had received the packages she’d sent out about Steph.

      Henry had been out doing his nightly club thing, and she was sitting in the office by herself.

      “Another late night?”

      She looked up to see him standing in the doorway. “My boss can be a slave driver.” She smiled.

      “Really? I thought I was easing up a bit. Giving you room to grow and all that.”

      “Is that what you are trying to do?”

      “I think so. You said that you wanted a career in music so I’ve been introducing you to all the departments—A & R, marketing.”

      “It has been smashing,” she said.

      “Truly?”

      “Well, it’s different than what I did for Daniel. I mean, for him I was just his assistant, but you are giving me my own responsibilities. I’m enjoying it.”

      Henry nodded. “Good. Then maybe you can start to relax here at the office.”

      “I already have,” she said. It surprised her. She’d kept her guard up and tried not to see Henry as anything other than her boss. But he was a stand-up guy behind the celebrity profile. She fielded a dozen questions a day from magazines and newspaper reporters about where he was going to be. Some of the information she leaked because Henry wanted some extra coverage for a group or for his friends.

      “Good,” he said again, leaving her to go into his office. She just sat there and tried not to think too much about the fact that he was treating her like an employee and he hadn’t tried to kiss her once since that night at her flat. Which was perfect, really, since she wasn’t interested in him as a man. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

      * * *

      Astrid borrowed her sister’s car for the evening and left it parked near Waterloo Station so she could have Henry drop her off there if she needed to. She didn’t want to risk having him at her flat again. They were hitting another string of clubs tonight. It had been four weeks since she’d talked to him in his office. For the most part he kept his hands to himself. But his gaze often lingered on her lips or her figure.

      And she found herself wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. She wanted to feel his arms around her. Each night in her dreams she relived that brief kiss he’d given her at her door. She wasn’t going to allow herself to pine for him, but a part of her—the part that she sometimes thought would never come to her senses—longed for Henry.

      She took the Underground to Covent Garden and walked to Bungalow 8. The exclusive club had been known to turn away even celebs, so she was a little intimidated to approach the bouncer.

      “Can I help you?”

      “I’m meeting Henry Devonshire,” she said. “I’m Astrid Taylor.”

      “Of course, Ms. Taylor. He asked that you join him in the VIP area. The hostess will direct you once you are inside.”

      The electronica music pulsed through her body as she followed the hostess to the VIP area. She should be getting used to so many late nights, but she wasn’t. And when she approached Henry’s table, she noticed that it was full of people. She’d realized quickly that part of Henry’s charm was his easygoing manner.

      No wonder the bouncer had simply let her in. She was probably one of fifteen people who’d used Henry’s name to get in the door tonight.

      He looked up when she approached and gave her a half smile. He gestured for her to have a seat at the end of his table and she sat down next to a man she’d seen on TV and Lonnie from their office. She chatted with the TV guy— “call me Alan”—until he left with a group of three women. Henry waved her down to a seat next to him.

      “Have you been listening to this group?”

      “Hard not to,” she said. Since the music even in the VIP section was blaringly loud, it made conversation impossible.

      “What do you think of it?”

      She turned her head toward the sound and closed her eyes. One of the first things she’d realized about good music was that it had the power to entrance a person. Make someone forget about the problems of everyday life. The band didn’t spark that feeling.

      “It’s nice.”

      “But not great,” Henry said.

      “Exactly. They are a good band and I bet they’d do well for one album, but I don’t think they have the kind of sound that would sustain a lasting career,” she said.

      “Good. I like your instincts.”

      “Thanks,” she said.

      “The next band is the one that Roger recommended to me. I think you’ll like them.”

      “Why?” she asked. She wanted to know what Henry thought she’d like and why. Did he really know her? It had only been a few weeks, though she’d come to know him pretty well since they’d spent so much time together.

      “Because they have a nice sound with a pop groove but there’s something retro about their lyrics. They talk about real emotions, which I’ve noticed you like as I’ve been listening to the tapes of the bands you want me to sign.”

      “I noticed you noticing,” she said. Over the past two weeks he had paid a lot of attention to her at work, asking her opinions on bands, giving her decision-making power on booking groups for radio tours and whatnot. Mostly he’s treated her like a respected peer, and that was all she’d needed.

      “Good. I wanted you to see that I’m not like Daniel,” Henry said.

      “Why?” she asked.

      “Because I’m going to kiss you again, Astrid, and this time I don’t want you to run.”

      She felt foolish when he said it like that. But then she was human, she thought. And resisting temptation, especially the type that he offered, was too hard.

      “I’m not going to make another foolish mistake,” she said, not sure if she meant the words for Henry or for herself.

      “Good,” he said. He reached under the table and took her hand in his. His big hand completely engulfed hers. They announced the band XSU. Sounded like some American university band and the guys looked the part.

      In their denim jeans and faded vintage T-shirts they looked as though they were meant to be singing to university crowds instead of this very upscale and trendy club in London.

      They introduced their first song and the music was…sex-disco. A pulsing beat that made her want to get up and dance. She was tapping her feet and noticed that Henry was moving to the beat, as well. The dance floor, which had been crowded before now, seemed to be a single solid wave of dancing bodies.

      Henry used his grip on her hand to tug her to her feet.