The Dare Collection November 2018. Christy McKellen

and only me.’

      I walked to the lift and held it open for her. She slid past me, trailing an evocative scent of lushness I wanted to inhale long and deep from all her pleasure points.

      When she reached the back of the lift she executed a sexy little turn, her gaze fixed on my chin for a moment before she flicked it up to mine. ‘Thank you for your business, Mr Mortimer. I aim to do everything I can to make your time on board La Sirène exceptional.’

      I held the door open as it went to shut. ‘I’m sure it will be one way or the other. And it’s been an interesting experience meeting you, too, Leonora. Expect my call tonight.’

      The lift doors shut on her warily speculative gaze.

      I gave in to my grin for as long as it took to re-enter the suite and head down the hall to the study.

      Monique was already stationed at the spare desk, her laptop opened and the files I’d brought with me set out beside her. She looked up as I entered, a professional smile fixed on her face.

      I returned it with a nod and moved to my desk. ‘How’s your Russian, Monique?’

      ‘Still fluent, Monsieur Mortimer.’

      ‘Excellent. Start with translating the report that I printed off last night. Then we’ll make amendments to a few subcontracts.’

      ‘Right away, monsieur.’

      I slid open my own laptop, answered a few emails and made a couple of urgent phone calls. Then my mind began to drift to a certain curvy blonde.

      The bold challenge in her eyes as she’d demanded I say please.

      The touch of vulnerability she’d tried so hard to hide that made me want to dig until all her secrets were exposed to me.

      The business savvy that had seen her land the sort of deal that was usually reserved for much larger outfits than hers.

       That pretty pink mouth.

      How the hell was I going to survive weeks with her on board a yacht without going insane, breaking my promise to Aunt Flo and acting on the growing list of every fucking filthy thing I wanted to do to the prim and proper Miss Leonora Branson?

      Leonie

       Stop staring at your bloody phone!

      I glared at the mobile in my hand as if it carried the blame for remaining stone-cold silent. Then I went one better and tossed it on the sofa as I passed it in another fit of restless pacing. It was my own fault for coming up with the brilliant idea to get dressed a whole hour before Gideon was supposed to call. If he called.

      More than likely he had his hands full with the brunette who’d showed up on his doorstep. Of course, he’d never bothered to introduce her. Nor had he got around to answering my question about whatever special guest he intended to bring aboard the yacht.

      So yes, I’d wanted to know for reasons other than my list. Were they even now rolling around on his king-sized bed? Or was he delivering the filthy promises his stormy eyes had promised me in the shower?

      The memory of my last moments in his bathroom rose like a 3D image—big, thrillingly sinful before my eyes. Gideon might be a cocky bastard, but he had the equipment to back it up, and then some. I hadn’t lost my virginity to Adam, but he was my only long-term, meaningful relationship before it all went to hell. Since his betrayal, I’d indulged in two meaningless one-night stands, enjoyable at the time but regretted soon afterwards.

      None of the men in my past came close to the heat Gideon was packing. Since leaving his hotel, I’d been struck at the oddest, most inconvenient times during the day with an insane craving to uncover what the steam had hidden from me, watch his beautiful face go slack with lust and arousal as I pumped him. In those dreadful and wicked moments, he’d reduced me to needy ravenous hormones that yearned for one more orgasm with a man who knew how to wring the last ounce of pleasure from a woman.

      From the moment I met him, every look, word and deed pointed to the fact that Gideon Mortimer knew the road map to a woman’s every pleasure point or would make it his mission to discover even more.

      I stared down at my favourite little black dress, picked out with a curiously compulsive need to look my best. My ears and wrists were adorned with my favourite tasteful diamonds and I’d washed and curled my hair.

      I grimaced.

      My actions whiffed of desperation, which sparked irritation and another round of pacing that took me to the window.

      Meeting Gideon had escalated the turbulent emotions he’d evoked over the phone yesterday.

      Since my father’s atrocious treatment of my mother and Adam’s cutting betrayal, I’d sworn never to tolerate bad boys in any shape or form. I didn’t need a crystal ball to know I’d be letting myself in for that special brand of male arrogance the moment I stepped aboard the yacht.

      Stubbornness attempted to kick in but I resisted. I was used to being shoved out of my comfort zone. Hell, I’d started my business with little more than my meagre savings, a polished business plan and a driving will to succeed, and I’d triumphed.

      My hormonal teenager days were behind me, and yet within hours of meeting him all my senses seemed to be poised on some insane precipice that beckoned a recklessness I hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever.

      The excuse that getting ready early was simple efficiency was bullshit. Truth was, I wanted to see him again. And the anticipation bubbling in my veins had very little to do with business.

      A deeper agitation drove me from the window. This was dangerous. Probably because I recognised this burgeoning madness for what it was.

      I’d seen a variation of it on my mother’s face time and again, even after she’d claimed to have got over my father. The mere mention of his name would bring a rabid anticipation to her eyes that used to embarrass me. Over time, I’d grown to pity that look. That in turn had morphed into helpless bewilderment and anger, which still lingered.

      I was nowhere near experiencing that same emotion, but I was cognisant of the fact that it had a starting point. If what I was feeling now was even a fraction of what my mother had lived with for years, then I was better off staying away from Gideon Mortimer.

      And yet...

      A part of me wanted to wipe that arrogant smugness from his face. I was in complete control. Besides, he had his brunette to occupy him. He could play his wicked little tricks on her.

      The annoying twinge in my breastbone mocked my throwaway thoughts. I wanted to laugh at myself for the jealousy spiking through my blood. Instead, I retrieved my phone and placed the call I needed to Monaco. Five minutes later I’d officially taken myself off the roster for La Sirène’s crew.

      Because I’d be foolish to stare at the ashen evidence of my childhood and what Adam had done to me and not learn from my mistakes.

      I ended the call, contemplated placing another one to Gideon to tell him of the replacement but stopped myself. It would be better to tell him in person, draw a line underneath that dangerous attraction.

      I walked out onto my balcony.

      The sunset on the balmy evening attracted the great and beautiful onto the streets below. I people-watched, until my gaze inexorably drifted over to the soaring turrets of the Riviera One hotel.

      To Gideon Mortimer and all the dirty things he could be doing with the brunette. Impatient with the direction of my one-track thoughts, I walked back into the living room just as my phone buzzed.

      Change of plan. Need to reschedule dinner but meeting is still on. My driver will pick you up at seven thirty.

      Irritation flicked to disappointment then back to anger with myself for being disappointed. I was a grown woman draped in diamonds and my best Louboutin heels. Hell if I was going to let that go to waste. My fingers flew over the screen as I tapped out a reply.