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Cheered by this thought, she said, ‘We’d better be going. I want to call in at the shop before it closes.’
And she hoped it bored the life out of him. She knew most men would rather chance their luck in shark-infested waters than walk into the softly scented, flower-filled shop that sold her products.
She turned to go back to the car, only to realise he’d done the same. Startled, she pulled away at the touch of his arm on hers, and to her chagrin her foot twisted on a stone, jerking her off balance.
Before she could draw breath strong hands clamped onto her shoulders and steadied her. Jo froze, meeting glinting eyes that narrowed. Her heart somersaulted under the impact of his touch, his closeness. Every cell in her body was suddenly charged with a fierce awareness of his potent male charisma.
His grip tightened for a painful moment, then relaxed.
But, instead of letting her go, he drew her towards him. His face was set and intent, his eyes molten silver.
Something feverish and demanding stopped her from jerking backwards, from saying anything. Helpless in a kind of reckless, fascinated thraldom, she forced herself to meet that fiercely intent gaze. In it she read passion, and a desire that matched the desperate impulse she had no way of fighting.
No, something in her brain insisted desperately, but a more primal urge burnt away common sense, any innate protectiveness, and when his mouth came down on hers she went up in flames, the blood surging through her in response to the carnal craving summoned by his kiss. Her lashes fluttered down, giving every other sense free rein to savour the moment his mouth took hers.
He tasted purely male, clean and slightly salty, with a flavour that stimulated far more than her taste buds. The arms that held her against his powerful body were iron-hard, yet somehow made her feel infinitely secure. And mingling with the tropical fecundity of the rainforest around them was his scent. It breathed of arousal and a need that equalled the heat inside her. She wanted to accept and unleash that need, allow it to overcome the faint intimations of common sense, surrender completely …
And could not—must not …
Before she could pull away, he lifted his head. Her lashes fluttered drowsily up, but when she saw his icily intimidating expression, all desire fled, overtaken by humiliation.
He dropped his hands and took a step backwards.
‘A bit too soon—and very crass—to be making a move like that, surely?’ he said in a voice so level it took her a second or two to register the meaning of his words. ‘After all, Tom’s barely cold in his grave. You could make some pretence of missing him.’
The flick of scorn in his last sentence lashed her like a whip.
Damn Sean’s sleazy mind and foul mouth, she thought savagely.
But the brutal sarcasm effectively banished the desire that had roared up out of nowhere. Defiantly she angled her chin and forced herself to hold Luc’s unsparing arctic gaze.
In a voice she struggled to hold steady, she said, ‘Tom and I didn’t have that sort of relationship.’
He shrugged. ‘Spare me the details.’
‘If you spare me your crass assumptions,’ she flashed, green eyes glittering with some emotion.
After a charged pause, he nodded. ‘I’m not interested in your relationship with Tom.’
He registered the slight easing of her tension. It seemed she was prepared to believe that.
Not that it was exactly the truth. For some reason the thought of her in Tom’s bed sickened him.
But with a mother who’d made no secret of her affairs, Joanna Forman undoubtedly had an elastic attitude to morality.
As she’d just shown. Hell, she’d been more than willing. He could have laid her down on the grass and taken her.
Mentally cursing his unruly mind as it produced an image of her golden body beneath him, of losing herself in her carnal heat, he quenched his fierce hunger with the sardonic observation that possibly her response was faked.
Had she realised that giving away her lovely body might not be sensible at this time? Sex would mean she’d lose any bargaining power …
‘For your information,’ she said now, her tone crisp and clear, her eyes coldly green and very direct, ‘when I was a child I spent quite a few of my holidays here, staying with Aunt Luisa. My mother travelled a lot, and Tom didn’t mind me coming even when he was in residence.’
His brows lifted and she waited for some comment. None came, so she resumed, ‘We always got on well.’
She stopped, then in an entirely different tone, the words a little thick as though fighting back a surge of grief, she finished, ‘That’s all there was to it.’
Cynically Luc applauded that final touch. She also made the whole scenario sound quite plausible; Tom had a history of mentoring promising talent.
However, he’d mentioned none of his other protégées in his will.
But her statement certainly fitted in with the information he had about her. She’d attended excellent private schools—paid for probably by the succession of rich lovers her mother had taken. However, she hadn’t followed her mother’s choice of career. At university, she’d taken a science degree and a lover, graduating from both just before Ilona Forman had developed the illness that eventually killed her.
Joanna had left a fairly menial job at a well-connected firm to care for her mother, and then found herself with an ill aunt who’d refused to leave Rotumea. Either she had a sense of responsibility for her family, such as it was, or she’d seen an opportunity to get closer to Tom and grabbed it.
No doubt it had seemed a good career move.
And it had paid off.
Luc let his gaze roam her face, unwillingly intrigued by the colour that tinged her beautiful skin. Perfect skin for a woman who made skincare products. Yet, in spite of that betraying blush, her black-lashed eyes were steady and completely unreadable.
Was she wondering if he accepted that her relationship with Tom involved nothing more than innocent pleasure in each other’s company?
Tamping down a deep, unusual anger, he reminded himself that he had to live with her for the next six months. And that he needed her approval before he could assume full control of the Henderson organization.
You cunning old goat, Tom, he thought coldly, and held out his hand. ‘Very well, we’ll leave it at that.’
Surprised, Jo reluctantly put her hand in his. A rush of adrenalin coursed through her when long fingers closed around hers, a thrill that coalesced into a hot tug of sensation in the pit of her stomach. Her breath came faster through her lips, and she had to force herself not to jerk free of his touch.
OK, so he hadn’t said he believed her. Why should she care?
Yet she did.
However, she wasn’t going to waste time wondering about the reason.
But at the shop she was surprised. Tall and darkly dominant, Luc examined the fittings, and even took down and read the blurb on a package of her most expensive rehydrating cream.
She had to conquer a spasm of irritation at her manager’s admiring glances. This was her domain, and he had no right to look so much in charge, she thought crossly, and immediately felt foolish for responding so unreasonably.
But something about Luc MacAllister made her unreasonable. Something more than his assumption about