Modern Romance October 2016 Books 5-8. Kate Walker

large vase on the table in the centre of the hall he felt something wide and uncomfortable open up in his chest. And sheer incomprehension. No woman ever walked away from him. But this one had. Twice now.

      He turned before Esmé could make anything of his reaction, went to his office and saw the folded-over note with ‘Ben’ written on it in a very feminine script. He opened it to read.

      Dear Ben,

      Thank you again for your kind donation to the charity. I think after last night the terms of the bid are well and truly fulfilled. After all, this was never going to go beyond the weekend, was it?

      I’ve enjoyed my time here in Bahia—thank you. I doubt I’ll run into you again.

      Best wishes,

      Lia Ford.

      The chasm opening up in Ben’s chest snapped shut suddenly and became a hard, heavy weight. The insinuation that she’d slept with him more to fulfil the terms of the bid and less because she’d wanted to was not welcome.

      He crushed the piece of paper in his hands as something broke the heavy weight apart—anger.

      He’d underestimated her—again. But she’d underestimated him if she thought that she wouldn’t run into him again. He was going to make very sure that she did run into him again—and this time she would not be running away. Because she was perfect for him. And no way was he letting her, or this opportunity, slip out of his grasp.

CHAPTER SEVEN

      ‘WHERE’S YOUR FATHER, LIA? Not ill again, I hope?’

      Lia felt like hitting the smug smile off the face of one of her father’s biggest competitors, who was making it very obvious that he did hope her father was ill, but instead she smiled beatifically and said, ‘Of course he’s not ill, George.’ Her smile stayed fixed as she went on, ‘He’s actually too busy to be here this evening—which is why I have to say I’m surprised to see you here. Didn’t you know that this evening is the construction union’s annual winter party?’

      The man’s already florid face grew redder as he blustered, ‘Well, yes, of course I did...but I wouldn’t normally think of going to one of those events—’

      Which is why you’re only a fraction as successful as my father, she thought to herself privately, even as she said a placatory, ‘No, of course not. Most people don’t. He will insist on going, though—every year—and his employees seem to love him for it.’

      The man was backpedalling away from Lia so fast that she nearly laughed out loud. It was a little mean of her, she knew, to tease him like that. But in fairness her father had put in an appearance at the union party largely because it wouldn’t be filled with vultures ready to pick him apart to see just how robust he was.

      She’d just been informed that he was back, via one of his usual slightly ham-fisted texts, which was all in caps.

      I’M HOME NOW. DON’T WORRY. HOLD THE FORT FOR ME, DARLING. DAD. XX

      Lia sighed. That was what she felt as if she’d been doing all her life. Holding the fort for her father, who had never really recovered after her mother’s abandonment of them both. But she pushed that moment of uncharacteristic self-pity out of her mind now. She didn’t want anyone here at this exclusive London charity bash to suspect for a second that everything wasn’t absolutely fine.

      So she pasted on another bright smile when she saw two more of her father’s biggest rivals bearing down on her, with glints in their eyes. But just before they reached her something in her peripheral vision made her look to her left and her heart stopped beating. Almost literally stopped.

      It was Benjamin Carter, standing at the main doorway, dressed in a classic black tuxedo, scanning the room as if looking for something. Or someone. His bright blue gaze—visible even from where she stood—landed on her and stopped. Lia felt its impact immediately, deep in her body, like an electrical shock.

      Everything dropped away. She was aware of voices from nearby, aware that she was meant to be responding to something, but had no idea to what.

      It felt as if seconds had passed since she’d seen him, but it had actually been a week.

      A week since she’d left this man lying on his bed amongst tangled sheets, with her heart pounding so hard she’d been able to feel it. It started again now, as he walked towards her, and she drank him in helplessly. He looked taller, darker, and more handsome against the backdrop of this much paler British crowd.

      For an awful second she wondered if she was hallucinating—she’d believed she’d never see him again, and had done her best all week to repress the memories and images. But at night her subconscious hadn’t been able to stem the tide, and each morning she’d woken hot and sweaty, with the sheets tangled around her body after X-rated dreams.

      He closed the distance between them with long strides, the crowd parting like water and hushed whispers following his progress. He reached Lia and she was struck mute.

      Without taking his eyes off hers, he said, ‘Gentlemen, please excuse the interruption, but I have some unfinished business with Miss Ford.’

      And then he reached for Lia’s hand, taking it in a firm grip, and started walking back out of the room, taking her with him. The lust that flooded her body at the touch of his hand told her that she wasn’t hallucinating—as did the excitement mixed with shock in her blood.

      Lia had to lift her long black silk dress in one hand, afraid of tripping. She caught sight of herself and Ben in a long mirror and saw that she looked tiny behind him, her shoulders bare in the long strapless dress, her hair upswept into a rough chignon.

      Panic flooded her system as the reality sank in that he was really here. If he guessed for a second how deep he’d sneaked under her skin... The panic intensified. She dug her heels in and tried to pull her hand free, but his only tightened.

      He stopped and turned around, a fierce expression on his face. Gone was the civil, suave man she’d first met. He was angry. But instead of feeling intimidated she found her anger matched his. Anger at him for coming into her world like this. For upsetting her equilibrium again.

      ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she snapped. ‘You’re on my turf now.’

      Ben arched a brow. ‘Oh, forgive me, Lady Ford, do you own this hotel?’

      She flushed. ‘No, of course not.’ Then she arched her own brow. ‘Do you have a private plane stashed on the lawn at the back? Are you planning another little kidnap stunt?’

      He kept her hand firmly in his and faced her fully, his free arm snaking around her waist and pulling her close. She went on fire when she felt his burgeoning erection between them. His eyes gleamed when he saw her reaction. Lia was acutely aware of the audience around them, and cursed herself for not waiting to confront him until they were somewhere more private.

      ‘You asked me a question.’

      Lia frowned. ‘What question?’

      ‘In that kind note you left, you said—and I quote—‟This was never going to go beyond the weekend, was it?”’

      Lia flushed hotter. ‘That was a rhetorical question.’

      Ben shook his head. ‘Not any more—because I believe I’ve just answered it.’

      ‘How?’

      He moved against her subtly, explicitly, leaving her in no doubt as to what he meant. Then he said throatily, ‘I suggest you come with me right now—unless you want to treat your peers to the kind of show they’d prefer to watch in private or on pay per view.’

      Some emotion Lia didn’t want to name surged through her as the knowledge sank in—she wasn’t dreaming. He was here and he still wanted her. And, heaven help her, she wanted him too... She’d run scared in Brazil, but right now she couldn’t