The Husband Assignment. Helen Bianchin

ruffle her composure, test the level of her restraint, and handle the aftermath.

      Stephanie barely restrained the impulse to hit him. He was deliberately needling her, like a supine panther who’d sighted a prey within reach and was toying with the decision to pounce, or play. Either way, the result would be the same.

      Raoul Lanier was in for a surprise if he thought he could try those tactics with her, she decided in silent anger.

      She held his gaze deliberately, and saw one eyebrow lift in a slow arch, almost as if he had read her mind. Mental telepathy? Somehow she doubted he possessed that ability. More likely it stemmed from an innate and accurate knowledge of women.

      The appearance of the waiter with their main course temporarily diverted her attention. She looked at the plate placed before her, and felt her appetite diminish to zero.

      ‘The meal isn’t to your liking?’

      Stephanie heard Raoul’s deep drawl, sensed the double entendre, and for a brief moment she entertained tossing the contents of her glass in his face.

      Smile, a tiny voice urged. This isn’t the first occasion you’ve had to deal with male arrogance, and it sure won’t be the last. Business was the purpose for this meeting, albeit that it was being conducted in luxurious surroundings with the accompaniment of fine food and wine.

      ‘Do you have any queries?’ she asked of Michel, and incurred his thoughtful gaze.

      ‘You appear to have covered everything for the moment.’

      ‘Perhaps Stephanie would care to give us her personal opinion on this film,’ Raoul drawled as he toyed with his wineglass.

      ‘My expertise is with marketing strategy, Mr. Lanier,’ she said with grave politeness, whereas underneath that superficial veneer she was seething.

      His gaze seemed to lance through every protective barrier she erected, and she hated him for it.

      ‘Surely you have an opinion?’ he queried mildly.

      ‘Nothing is a guaranteed success,’ she voiced steadily. ‘And there are varied degrees of success. I understand both director and producer have a certain reputation in their field, the cast comprises relatively high profile actors, the theme will attract public interest.’ Her gaze was unwavering as she held his. ‘I can only assure you marketing will do a commendable job with promotion.’

      She glimpsed his cynical smile, saw the hardness in those powerful features and refused to allow either to unsettle her equilibrium.

      ‘A standard response,’ Raoul acknowledged silkily. ‘That conveys precisely nothing.’

      She’d had enough. ‘You’re talking to the wrong person, Mr. Lanier. But then, you know that, don’t you? This so-called business dinner is merely a social occasion initiated by you for your own amusement.’ She removed her napkin and placed it beside her plate, then she stood to her feet and collected her evening purse. Ignoring Raoul, she focused her attention on Michel. ‘Enjoy your meal.’

      Without a further word she turned from the table and made her way to the main desk. Requesting the bill, she produced her corporate card, instructed the maximum estimated amount for the total be written in, then she signed the credit slip and pocketed her copy.

      Stephanie moved into the foyer and crossed to the lift, jabbing the Call button with more force than necessary.

      Damn Raoul Lanier. He’d succeeded in getting beneath her skin, and she hated him for it. Hated herself for allowing him to affect her in a way that tore at the foundations of unbiased professional good manners.

      For heaven’s sake, where was the lift? Another five seconds, and she’d take the stairs. Almost on command, the doors slid open, four people emerged and Stephanie stepped into the cubicle, then turned toward the control panel.

      Only to freeze at the sight of Raoul Lanier on the verge of entering the lift.

      ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she managed to ask in a furious undertone.

      ‘Accompanying you down to your car.’ He reached forward and depressed the button designating the car park.

      An action which galvanized Stephanie into jabbing the button that held the doors open. ‘Something that’s totally unnecessary. Get out.’

      He didn’t answer. Instead he leaned forward, captured both her hands and held them firmly while he depressed the appropriate button.

      Stephanie wrenched against his grasp in an attempt to get free, without success, and she watched with mounting anger as the doors slid closed and the lift began to descend.

      ‘Let go of me.’ Her voice was as cool as an arctic floe.

      ‘When the lift reaches the car park,’ Raoul drawled imperturbably.

      ‘You are the most arrogant, insolent, insufferable man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.’

      ‘Really? I’m flattered. I expected at least ten damning descriptions.’

      ‘Give me a few seconds,’ she threatened darkly.

      She was supremely conscious of him, his physical height and breadth, the aura of power he exuded, and this close his choice of cologne teased her senses, notwithstanding the essence of the man and the electric tension evident between them.

      The heightened sensuality was almost a tangible entity, powerful, primeval, riveting. It made her afraid. Not only of him, but herself and the long dormant emotions she’d deliberately tamped down for four years.

      The lift came to a smooth halt, and she wrenched her hands free, then exited the cubicle the instant the doors slid open.

      ‘Where is your car?’

      She began walking toward the glass doors that led to the car park. ‘There’s no need to play the gentleman. The area is well-lit.’

      She may as well have not spoken, and she drew in a deep breath, releasing it slowly as she deliberately ignored him and increased her pace.

      It took only minutes to reach her car, and she extracted her keys, unlocked the door, then stilled as a hand prevented her from sliding in behind the wheel.

      ‘Whatever you’re thinking of doing,’ she said tightly, searing him with a look that would have felled a lesser man. ‘Don’t.’

      ‘I was going to offer an apology.’

      ‘For initiating an unnecessary social occasion in the guise of business, then conducting a deliberate game of cat and mouse with me?’ Her tone was deceptively soft, but her eyes resembled crystalline sapphire. ‘An apology is merely words, Mr. Lanier, and I find your manner unacceptable.’ She looked pointedly at his hand. ‘You have three seconds to walk away. Otherwise I’ll alert security.’

      ‘And request you rejoin me at dinner,’ he continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

      ‘I’m no longer hungry, I don’t like you, and—’ she paused fractionally, and aimed for the kill ‘—the last thing I want to do is spend another minute in your company. Is that clear?’

      Raoul inclined his head in mocking acceptance. ‘Perfectly.’ He attended to the clasp and held open the door. ‘Au revoir.’

      Stephanie slid in behind the wheel, inserted the key into the ignition and fired the engine. ‘Goodbye.’

      The instant he closed the door she reversed out of the parking bay, then without sparing him a glance she drove toward the exit.

      Minutes later she joined the flow of traffic traveling toward the center of town, and it wasn’t until she’d cleared the three major intersections that she allowed herself to reflect on the scene in the hotel car park.

      She’d managed to have the last word, but somehow she had the feeling Raoul Lanier had deliberately contrived his apparent defeat. And that annoyed the heck out of her!