The Best Of The Year - Modern Romance. Annie West

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Название The Best Of The Year - Modern Romance
Автор произведения Annie West
Жанр Короткие любовные романы
Серия Mills & Boon Series Collections
Издательство Короткие любовные романы
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781474046763



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her ankles, her calves, weakening her knees, singeing the secret place between her legs. The tingle had stopped there, establishing an almost possessive hold, before rising to engulf her whole body.

      Then, as now, she’d wanted to run, to hide and cover herself—a ridiculous notion, considering her profession more often than not involved flaunting herself. Finally, just when she’d felt light-headed from the sensation, the photographer had wrapped the shoot.

      Uncoiling from her pose, she’d turned her head.

      And had encountered the silver gaze of Bastien Heidecker.

      What had happened afterwards still had the power to stop her breath, to raise her heart-rate to dangerous levels no matter how much she tried to downplay the memory.

      She turned her head now and encountered the same piercing gaze.

      The breath shot from her lungs and that unnerving tingling engulfed her whole body, turning it from numb to fiery within seconds. Her every nerve-ending screeched in awareness of the man whose gaze pinned her to her chair, imprinting and condemning all in one go.

      She watched in silence as, without breaking eye contact, he strode to the lawyers and spoke in deep, low tones.

      The lead counsel nodded and cleared his throat and Bastien turned towards her, his towering six-foot-two frame and confident tread causing heads to turn in the courtroom. He took a seat directly behind her and with an autocratic jerk of his chin ordered her to face forward.

      Heat crawled up her neck, stung her cheeks. With it came anger at herself for so blatantly staring. The judge’s gavel struck, making her jump. Glimpsing Bastien’s mocking smile, she pursed her lips and straightened in her chair.

      For the hundredth time Ana wished she’d insisted on changing her clothes before arriving in court. But she’d wanted this hearing over and done with. She glanced down at the thigh-skimming silk dress—already on the risqué side when she’d worn it last night to please Simone, her flatmate, and now bordering on the downright indecent in daylight, especially in a courtroom—and cringed inwardly.

      She was discreetly tugging it down when the noise level rose. The lawyers were smiling and shaking hands with Bastien. Grabbing her tiny purse, she stood up.

      She glanced around her and noticed there were no guards ready to slap the handcuffs back on and cart her off to jail.

      ‘What’s going on?’ She’d aimed for brusque and businesslike but her words emerged thick and heavy, as if she were speaking in a foreign tongue. With a leaden hand she pushed back the heavy fall of hair from her face.

      Bastien stepped forward, his grey eyes arctic-cold. ‘Found it hard to concentrate, did you?’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’

      The breadth of his shoulders and the sheer force of his personality threatened to overwhelm her. Or it might be because she hadn’t eaten a thing since yesterday. Whatever it was, the light-headedness when she looked into his eyes made her senses swim.

      Strong hands gripped her arms and he swore under his breath. She pushed him away but he held on, his irritated growl sizzling along her raw nerves.

      ‘You will be by the time I’m finished with you,’ he rasped into her ear.

      She shivered. That deep voice had intruded on her dreams far too many times, mocked her weakness when it came to Bastien Heidecker. At eight she’d followed him around like a puppy-dog, despite the stay-away-from-me vibes he’d projected loud and clear. At twenty-four she’d almost succumbed to a far more dangerous temptation that continued to haunt her.

      No way was she letting that happen again.

      ‘Let me go, Bastien.’ She wrenched herself from his arms—only to find herself recaptured a moment later when his hands closed over her shoulders.

      ‘I don’t know whether anything can get through that drug-fogged brain of yours, but I suggest you try and understand this. We’re going outside now. My car will be waiting, but so will the press. You will not say a single word. If you have the slightest inclination to do so, kill it. Do you understand?’

      ‘Get your hands off me! You’ve got this wrong. I’m not—’

      His fingers bit into her shoulders, stifled her protest. A shiver coursed through her as he hauled her closer, his body so close his scent surrounded her.

      ‘If you want to get out of here in one piece the only word I want out of your mouth right now is yes.’

      A rebellious fire lit her belly. For as long as she could remember she’d relied on no one but herself. She’d had no choice.

      But this—lawyers, court, the threat of imprisonment—was totally alien to her. Besides, deep down she’d known that she’d have to answer to Bastien sooner or later. He was ultimately her boss. She only wished it had been much later.

      Swallowing her words, she nodded. ‘Fine. But only until we get out of here.’

      He pulled back, his unforgiving gaze raking down her body. His nostrils flared and she caught a spark of that dark and dangerous emotion that had arced between them on that sultry night two months ago.

      With short, jerky movements he tugged off his jacket and settled it over her shoulders.

      ‘Do my clothes offend you?’ she taunted, despite being grateful for the cover.

      ‘You can flaunt your skin in your own time. Right now you’re operating on Heidecker time, and I’d rather not battle my way through frenzied paparazzi.’

      He tucked the jacket closer around her and her gaze was drawn to the play of hard muscles under his expensive blue cotton shirt. Something tightened in her midriff and that damning tingle started once more. Hurriedly, she tore her gaze away.

      She knew very well what her current predicament meant for Diamonds by Heidecker. The last thing she wanted to do was add to her list of sins by acknowledging her inexplicable feelings for its CEO.

      He’d barely tolerated her when she was eight years old. That feeling had morphed into something else two months ago. It was something they’d never spoken of and both wished didn’t exist between them.

      Except it did...and they’d almost given in to it.

      He looked down at her and she saw the reluctant gleam in his eyes. It was gone a second later. Pursing his lips, he captured her wrist and tugged her to the door.

      The bolder paparazzi had already breached the outer limits of the courthouse. Years of practice had taught her never to look directly into the camera lenses—because somehow, no matter how much she tried, they always saw too much, revealed too much. Unfortunately, still feeling extremely unsettled, Ana now failed at what she’d practised since the age of seventeen.

      The first flash blinded her. Heels meant for walking a few feet from car to dance floor gave way beneath her. Stifling a curse, Bastien caught her and swung her into his arms.

      The world erupted in a blinding series of flashes and excited cries. With no choice but to ride the storm, she clasped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck.

      His scent suffused her. Clean, musky...arousing. The warmth of his skin attacked her senses, throwing her back to that night on his yacht, when she’d let her emotions get the better of her. Her pulse quickened, her insides clenched tight as deep, illicit pleasure stole over her.

      Ignoring the gossip-hungry media closing in on them, Bastien aimed straight for the black limousine with tinted windows idling on the pavement. One of the three burly men paving the way for them held the door open and they slid inside.

      For several heartbeats neither of them moved. The door thudded shut. Silence cloaked them. The muted sound of the running engine hummed through her but still Ana didn’t move. Her gaze skimmed the side of his face, unable to look away as she studied his arresting profile the way an artist studied his subject and committed it to memory.

      The