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‘Jake,’ he corrected. ‘Now what seems to be your problem, Charlotta? Maybe I can help.’
The accented way he said her name was enough to give her goose bumps. ‘Most people call me Charlie, and I am trying to get a taxi back to my flat.’
‘Charlie is no name for a beautiful woman and I refuse to use it,’ he declared firmly. ‘As for the taxi, that is no problem.’ The smile accompanying his words held such devastating charm Charlie could not help smiling back. ‘My car is here.’ He gestured with one hand to the sleek navy blue saloon parked on double yellow lines about ten yards away. ‘I’ll take you wherever you want to go.’
‘Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—’
‘Preferably to dinner, and of course you can.’
Five minutes later she was seated in the passenger seat of a luxury car and Jake was in the driving seat, having ascertained she’d intended to eat alone, and bulldozed her into dining with him at a well-known London restaurant.
‘Do you always get your own way?’ Charlie asked dryly.
Jake turned slightly, his thigh brushing hers in the process. ‘No, not always,’ he said seriously, his dark eyes capturing hers. Reaching out, he clasped her small chin between his thumb and finger and tilted her face towards him. ‘But when it is something or someone I truly want, I always succeed.’
Charlie swallowed hard and sought a witty comeback, but words failed her as his hands dropped to curve around her shoulders. He made no attempt to pull her into his arms. He didn’t need to. His mouth covered hers and he coaxed her lips to part to the gentle invasion of his tongue. The steadily increasing passion of his kiss ignited a slow burning sensation deep down in her belly that was entirely new to her. Suddenly Charlie wanted him with a hunger that shocked even as it thrilled her, and instinctively her hands lifted to his broad shoulders, but she didn’t reach them.
‘Dio mio!’ Jake exclaimed shakily, and, grasping her hands, he pulled back and pressed them to her sides. His heavy-lidded dark eyes swept over her dazed face, and lingered on her softly swollen lips.
‘You are some woman,’ he commented, and for a moment Charlie thought there was anger in the dark eyes that stared down at her. Then he pressed a brief kiss on the tip of her nose and added, ‘I promised you dinner, the rest must wait.’ He slanted her a wickedly seductive smile, before starting the car and driving off.
Charlie didn’t say a word. She could hardly believe what had happened; it was so unlike her. Where had her common sense, the steely nerve she was noted for, gone? Banished into oblivion by one kiss. Her entire body thrummed with a strange excitement and she had never in her wildest dreams believed a man could make her feel so wonderfully, vibrantly alive. But what was even more unbelievable was that Jake seemed to be as captivated by her as she was with him. She had felt it in the pounding of his heart, his shaken reaction when he had ended the kiss.
Suddenly the dinner she had tried to refuse held great appeal.
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS an exclusive French restaurant and at first glance appeared to be full, but within seconds of them entering the head waiter was at Jake’s side, and declaring it was a great pleasure to see him again, and his charming companion. His shrewd eyes flashed an appreciative glance over Charlie as he bowed courteously and led them to a small table set for two in an intimate corner of the room.
She looked around the dining room, her blue eyes widening in awe as she recognised a couple of politicians and a few famous faces from television. ‘You must have friends in high places,’ she said, grinning across the table at Jake. ‘I read an article about this restaurant in a Sunday supplement. But it’s even better than I imagined, though I never thought I would ever eat here.’ Eyes shining, she leant forward slightly. ‘Apparently one has to book months in advance.’
‘Obviously not in my case,’ Jake said arrogantly as the waiter arrived with the menus.
Disconcerted by his cool reply, Charlotte felt her smile fade as she realised her mistake. He was a big man and every inch the dominant male. Add wealth and sophistication, and it would take a very brave man or a fool to turn him down. As for women—she only had to recall how easily he had overcome her objections to dining with him to know the woman probably wasn’t born who could say no to him.
She gratefully accepted the menu from the waiter and buried her head in it, telling herself to get a grip. Instead of spouting off like some overenthusiastic teenager, she would show Jake d’Amato she could be as sophisticated as any woman.
‘What would you like to eat? I am going to have the hot smoked salmon followed by the steak. How about you? The same?’
She placed the menu on the table and lifted her head. ‘No, Jake,’ she said coolly, before turning to the waiter and asking him in perfect French what he recommended. A lively debate ensued on the relative merit of the red sea bass or the chef’s special stuffed trout. Finally Charlie gave her order for a starter of seasonal spring salad followed by the bass to a now beaming waiter, with a brilliant smile of her own.
‘So, Charlotte,’ Jake commented mockingly as the waiter departed. ‘You are a woman of many talents, it would seem.’
Charlie turned sparkling eyes to the man seated opposite. ‘Well, I’m not an idiot.’ She smiled, her confidence restored.
‘No, but, French aside, you did turn the poor waiter into a drooling idiot.’ His eyes flashed with a hint of some dark emotion, then softened perceptibly as his gaze roamed down to the soft curve of her breasts. ‘Though I can’t say I blame him,’ he added huskily.
She felt a flush of heat creep from her stomach to cover her whole body at his sensuous gaze, and she had to take a deep breath before she could respond steadily. ‘Thank you for the compliment.’
‘My pleasure, I assure you.’
Out of nowhere the thought of Jake at her pleasure deepened Charlie’s colour, and she frowned. In the sexual stakes she was not in his league, and she wondered what she was letting herself in for.
Jake reached out to cover her slender hand resting on the table with his own. For some reason the reservation in her eyes bothered him. ‘Charlotte, don’t look so serious,’ he said softly. Entwining his fingers with hers, he lifted her hand and pressed a tiny row of kisses across her knuckles. ‘Please, relax and enjoy your meal, and let us see if we can get to know each other a little better. We can become friends—can we not?’
Friends? With every nerve in her body quivering at his casual touch, Charlie doubted she could ever be just friends with such a supreme specimen of the male sex as Jake. But it was a start.
‘Friends. Yes.’ Striving to appear cool, she continued conversationally, ‘So, tell me, why the name Jake? It doesn’t sound very Italian.’
‘My mother was engaged to an engineer in the US Navy. She gave me his Christian name because he died in an accident at sea before she could give me his surname.’
‘That is so sad.’ Her eyes softened on his. ‘Your mother must have been devastated, losing her fiancé like that.’
‘Strange,’ Jake said with an odd note in his voice. ‘Most people respond with embarrassed silence or embarrassed laughter and a quip like, “I always knew you were a bastard.” But you are obviously romantic at heart.’ The fingers entwined with hers tightened slightly. ‘And you are right. My mother was devastated. She never looked at another man to her dying day. Except me, of course, whom she adored,’ he added with a soft chuckle, his dark eyes smiling warmly into hers.
‘I’m not surprised.’ Charlie grinned, relieved her casual query about his name had not embarrassed him. In fact, suddenly the atmosphere between them seemed much more relaxed. Maybe friendship with Jake was not so impossible after all, she thought happily. Though she wasn’t sure she agreed that she was a romantic. She had always considered herself the most realistic of women. But then that was before she had met him…
‘A compliment. I am flattered.’ Jake grinned back.
‘I didn’t mean you. Well, maybe I did,’ she added with a chuckle. ‘But really I was referring to your mother. Having committed to getting married, she must have been as distraught at his death as any widow.’
‘In my mother’s case, yes, but that is very rare.’ He leant back in his chair but still retained his grasp on her hand. ‘In my experience, plenty of women see an engagement as simply a way of getting money out of a man.’
His cynical attitude appalled her. ‘In your experience? You were engaged?’
‘I was, once, when I was twenty-three and naive. I bought the ring, gave her money for the wedding, the whole nine yards.’
‘And then you left her, I expect.’ Charlie pinned on a smile as it struck her again that he might be married, and she hadn’t asked—a glaring omission on her part, which she immediately rectified. ‘Or else you’re married.’
For a moment Jake looked astonished, then he laughed, but the humour didn’t reach his eyes. ‘How like a woman to blame the man.’ His cool dark gaze held hers. ‘But you are wrong. My fiancée left me, and spent the money on something else. So, no, I am not married, nor ever likely to be. It is not an institution I believe in.’
Feeling foolish, Charlie realised appearance could be deceptive. She could not imagine any woman turning Jake down, but she had been wrong, and that long-ago rejection must have hurt. Her soft heart went out to him. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I am not. But enough about me. Tell me how you learned to speak fluent French—and do you speak any other language?’
‘No, just French.’ She accepted his change of subject. Obviously it still hurt him to talk about his ex-fiancée, and it made him seem more human somehow. ‘I learned French at school, but I became fluent mainly because from the age of eleven I used to spend a few weeks’ holiday every year with my father at his home in France. Not so often in recent years, but I did stay with him last year, a little while before he died.’
‘Ah, yes, your father. I should have guessed.’ He dropped her hand, and a shadow seemed to pass over his face. Charlie wondered what she had said to cause it—or perhaps he was still thinking of his ex-fiancée? Then the wine waiter arrived with a bottle of Cristal champagne and filled two glasses before placing the bottle in the champagne cooler and leaving, and she banished the dark moment to the back of her mind.
‘To us and the start of a long friendship,’ Jake said, raising his glass, and Charlie reciprocated, her blue eyes shining into his as another waiter arrived with their food.
‘So tell me, have you any other family?’ Jake asked casually as they both tucked into their first course.
‘My mother died when I was eleven, my grandmother when I was seventeen and my grandfather three years later. My father was an orphan, so I’m alone in the world now he’s died.’
‘With a father like yours, can you be certain of that?’ Jake queried sardonically.
‘Yes, I’m certain.’ She glanced up, surprised by his cynical question, and thought she saw a bitter look in the dark eyes, but she must have been mistaken, as the next moment he grinned.
‘Ah, another illusion bites the dust. I should have known the exploits of your father were more fiction than fact—probably circulated to increase the price of his work.’
‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ Charlie murmured, pushing her empty plate away. There was something in the tone of his seemingly jocular comment that struck a discordant note and made her wary. Plus she was not comfortable talking about her father or about money.
‘No, of course you wouldn’t,’ Jake agreed smoothly, and for the rest of the meal he endeavoured to keep the conversation general while trying to discover more about the woman before him. Though he was loath to admit it, Charlotte was beginning to intrigue him more than any woman he had met in a long time.
For Charlie the next hour passed in a hazy bubble of happiness. Jake was a great conversationalist and, without her realising it, she had soon told him where she lived and how, after the death of her grandmother, she had left school to help her grandfather run the small family hotel overlooking Lake Windermere.
‘And you inherited the hotel, of course,’ Jake prompted when she fell silent for a moment.
‘Yes. Yes, I did.’ The thought of the family she had lost dulled the sparkle in her eyes for a moment.
‘Lucky you,’ Jake said. Charlie frowned and she was about to argue there was nothing lucky about losing one’s family, when he added, ‘But I was very lucky in a way,’ and to her surprise proceeded to tell her more of his own past. After the death of his mother when he was eight, he had been placed in an orphanage and got involved with a bad crowd. But miraculously he had been fostered at the age of ten by a man whose pocket he had tried to pick. It had saved him from a life of crime and had been the incentive he had needed to study and become a marine engineer, and owner of his own company. His foster-parents were still alive and he visited them regularly.
Charlie simply beamed at him, and thought how kind. He must have a very caring nature.
Also a very sensual nature, because as they ate the meal and drank the bottle of champagne Jake subtly managed to keep her in a state of simmering sexual tension. A forkful of his food offered to her willingly parted lips, a casual touch of his hand, an intimate smile. By the time they got to the coffee stage Charlie was unaware she had consumed the lion’s share of the champagne, and as she spooned sugar into her cup and added cream any resistance to his sophisticated charm was well and truly vanquished.
‘I am glad to see you are not one of these women who have to watch their figure all the time,’ Jake said, glancing at her coffee cup, then allowing his gaze to glide slowly up over her high firm breasts and to her beautiful if slightly flushed face. A lazy smile curved his sensuous lips as his dark eyes finally met and held Charlie’s. ‘Though it is well worth watching—quite perfect,’ he declared throatily.
She recognised the male appreciation and the suggestion of more on offer in his gleaming dark eyes. She wasn’t totally naive; she had experienced sexual chemistry before, but never as potent as this. Her pulse started to thud under her skin, and instinctively she lifted her hand to the hollow at the base of her throat. Her tongue slipped out to lick over her suddenly dry lips and she saw Jake’s gaze drop to her mouth, and she heard his sharp intake of breath.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ he commanded suddenly, rising to his feet and dropping a pile of notes on the table. He reached a hand around her upper arm and almost hauled her to her feet, muttering something in Italian under his breath.
‘Why the rush?’ she queried as he hustled her out of the restaurant, tension in every line of his long body.
‘Don’t pretend you don’t know, Charlotte,’ he said, his voice raw and thick with a sensual hunger that made Charlie shiver. Then he dropped her arm and curved his own around her waist in a possessive hold that thrilled and slightly frightened her as he led her to the car.
‘Get in,’ Jake said, wrenching open the passenger door and guiding Charlotte inside. Walking around the bonnet, he wondered what the hell he was doing. He had nothing but contempt for her type of woman, and yet he found her incredibly desirable. To his unemotional, analytical mind it did not make sense. But right now all his thinking processes seemed to be centred below his waist, and the quicker he got her into bed, the quicker his problem would be solved.
Alone for a moment, Charlie began to wonder what on earth she was doing, but seconds later, when Jake slid into the driving seat and reached for her, she knew.
His hand slid around the back of her head as he covered her mouth with his, his tongue thrusting between her softly parted lips with a hunger that awakened the same fierce need in Charlie.
She slid her hands around his neck, all of a sudden wild with wanting something she had never had. Her fingers tangled in his thick dark hair, and her entire body trembled as one strong hand stroked down her throat and over the proud swell of her breasts. His dark head lifted and her dazed blue eyes meshed with molten black. ‘Jake.’ She breathed his name.
It had been a very long time since any woman had turned Jake d’Amato on so fast or so fiercely. Hard as a rock and hurting, he felt her tremble, heard the plea in her tone, and he wanted to rip the all-encasing black dress from her body and take her hard and fast. But while his hot-blooded nature was urging him to do just that, the sound of a police siren growing to ear-splitting levels brought him back to his senses.
His dark head jerking up, he saw the police car flash past. He cursed under his breath in Italian and, thrusting Charlotte back against the seat, he slammed back in his own.
‘Damn!’ He ran a hand through his dark hair, and glanced at the woman beside him. ‘I haven’t made out in a car since I was a teenager, and now twice in one evening.’ His accusing eyes swept over her beautiful, bemused face, and lingered on her softly swollen mouth, and he almost groaned out loud.
‘I never have,’ Charlie breathed honestly, slowly surfacing from the whirlpool of passion that had engulfed her.
Jake stared down at her, shocked at her revelation, and he almost believed her. No, it couldn’t be true. Her father had been a master seducer. Different gender, but it was obvious she had inherited his talent, as his taut body was painfully confirming. With a less than steady hand he jabbed the key in the ignition and started the car. He was furious with himself, but even more so with the blue-eyed siren who was causing him to act so out of character.
‘Where are you staying?’ he demanded. If she had told him, he had forgotten—most unlike him. He knew she lived in and owned the Lakeview Hotel, but as for where she was staying in London, he had no idea. Jake breathed in deep. He was a man who prided himself on always being in control, and the knowledge she could shake that control only increased his inner anger still further.
The rasping edge to his deep voice sent a shiver through Charlie, and through her bewilderment she managed to retain enough hold on reality to ask herself what she was doing kissing a relative stranger. She straightened up in the seat, shocked by her own reckless behaviour. ‘Dave, a friend of mine, has lent me his flat while I am in London.’ She rattled off the address in what she hoped was a cool voice.
‘Nice location,’ Jake said, his teeth clenching as he changed gear with less than his usual fluency. That left him no longer in any doubt there was a man in her life—a wealthy man, it would seem, if he owned an apartment in that area. It wasn’t surprising; it only confirmed what he already suspected. Like father, like daughter. A woman like Charlotte was never going to be without a man for long, and the thought did nothing for his temper.
‘But perhaps you would prefer a nightcap at my hotel before I take you home?’ His original intention had been to move slowly, hoping to enthral her, the way her father had Anna. But now his only intention was to get her into his bed as soon as humanly possible, and keep her there until the memory of any other man was wiped from her mind. And at the same time cure his own irrational need for a woman whom by nature he should despise.
Colour swept Charlie’s face. Was that the equivalent of, ‘Your place or mine?’ Whichever, she wanted to cry, Yes!—and it shook her to feel so vulnerable. She was hopelessly out of her depth and sinking fast. She had never met a man like Jake before.
Charlie had grown up in a home full of adults, and she had to some extent been left to run wild around the mountains and crags of her beloved Lakes. Her hobbies were sailing and rock climbing. She was a member of the local rescue team, and also of the International Rapid Rescue Team. With a good manager to run the hotel on a day-today basis, Charlie took care of the accounts and it worked out well. She kept her gear packed at all times at home, and simply postponed the paperwork when she was needed elsewhere.
She had recently returned from a trip to Turkey, where she had helped in an earthquake recovery, and gone straight into the hectic Easter holiday at the hotel. The two weeks she was spending in London were at the suggestion of Dave, her team leader. He thought that with the recent death of her father and running two jobs, she needed a complete change. Time to take an ordinary holiday, instead of being at the beck and call of other people all the time.
Charlie had agreed. She had visited hot spots all over the world, but now she was taking the chance to visit some of the highlights of her own capital city, something she had never done before.
As for men, she knew plenty on a professional level, but they all treated her as one of the boys, which was how she liked it. Glancing at Jake’s perfectly chiselled profile, she realised that never in a million years could she think of him as one of the boys. In fact, she had trouble thinking at all around him.
The car came to a smooth stop, and Jake turned slightly in his seat, his black eyes gleaming with intent, capturing hers. ‘So what is it to be—a nightcap? This is my hotel.’
She knew what he was offering, and it wasn’t just a drink. The air in the close confines of the car positively crackled with sexual tension as he waited for her answer and suddenly Charlie was afraid. She tore her gaze from his and glanced out of the window. It was a very plush hotel, one of the best in the city, and she knew she couldn’t do it…not yet.
‘I think I have had enough to drink,’ she said carefully, ‘Thank you all the same.’
His dark eyes narrowed slightly, and she wondered if he was angry. But as she watched he shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Your decision.’ Dropping a brief kiss on her brow, he turned and started the car before adding, ‘I will pick you up for lunch tomorrow at twelve,’ his attention on the road ahead. ‘And we can move on from there.’
‘Can we indeed?’ she shot back. ‘It would be nice to be asked instead of told.’ But there was no bite to her words; secretly, she was relieved her attack of maidenly modesty had not ruined her chance with him after all. ‘I’m here on holiday, following the tourist trail, and I intend to visit the British Museum tomorrow.’
Jake’s every masculine instinct had been screaming out at him to persuade her into his bed, but the almost frightened look in her blue eyes had disconcerted him. She might be selfish and money-grubbing in her love affairs—in his experience, most women were—but it didn’t necessarily follow she was promiscuous. Jake was very choosy himself. He preferred to pick his lovers with care and his affairs were always as discreet as he could make them, given his high profile in the international business world.
The only reason he was without a lover at the moment was, ironically enough, because of Charlotte’s father. His death had created a set of circumstances that had kept Jake at home in Italy and caused him to neglect his last lover, Melissa, a New York model, who had therefore moved on to another wealthy man.
It hadn’t surprised him. Melissa had been a high-maintenance lady, he thought cynically as he stopped the car outside the apartment block, and slipped out to open the passenger door.
‘Come on, Charlotte, I will see you inside.’ He reached for her hand. ‘And there I promise to leave you until tomorrow,’ he reassured her with a dry smile. ‘And before you argue—’ he placed a finger over her lips ‘—we will do both. Lunch and the museum.’ Fingers entwined, he walked her to the lift. Again he registered the wariness in her incredible eyes, and grinned. Little did she know she was in no more danger from him tonight. He drew the line at making love to her in a bed she had shared with another man. ‘Until tomorrow.’ He kissed her brow and left.
CHAPTER THREE
JAKE D’AMATO prowled around the enormous hotel suite. He was too frustrated to sleep, and it was all the fault of a particular blue-eyed blonde. Not quite all, he allowed—the painting of Anna played heavily on his mind as well.
It had taken all of his considerable powers of self-control to stand in that damned gallery and stare at the portrait, which, as the purchaser, had been expected of him. Anna was the nearest thing he had ever had to a sister and it had seemed almost incestuous to see her exposed in such a way.
As for the title, ‘The Waiting Woman’—how apt, he thought grimly. She had waited and hoped for two years for Robert Summerville to marry her. A deep, dark frown marred his austere face as the memories flooded back. Jake had been twelve when Anna was born, and to his foster-parents her birth had seemed like a miracle. Jake had adored the new baby, and had watched her grow into a delightful little girl by the time he had left his foster home at eighteen.
He should have kept a closer eye on her. But after university he had been totally involved in his work as an engineer and building his own business. He had not had much time to visit his foster-family, mainly birthdays and holidays, but when he had Anna had always seemed fine. And as the Lasios had never appeared to have any worries about her, neither had Jake.
When Anna had turned twenty-one, Jake, then the head of the vast d’Amato International corporation, had thrown a lavish party on board his yacht for her birthday. Anna had seemed to be a happy, well-adjusted young woman, full of enthusiasm for her fledgling career as a graphic artist. Satisfied she was okay, Jake had carried on his own very busy life and respected that, as an adult, Anna was entitled to do the same.
But not any more.
Rage and regret welled up inside him. How could she have had an affair with, and posed naked for, a man who was old enough to be her father? How could she have driven when hopelessly drunk and killed herself? How could she have let a man do that to her?
There was no answer, and the burden of his own guilt had weighed heavily on his mind since Anna’s death. He had lived with Anna from the moment she was born until she was six and with hindsight he knew he should have done much more to protect her.
