скачать книгу бесплатно
‘Listen, I really was supposed to be meeting a date here, but it looks like I’ve been stood up. Would you like to… I mean, do you have any plans for tonight? Here I am all dressed up with no place to go and I’d rather not be alone. Maybe we could grab coffee somewhere and, um, I could waffle on at you a bit more.’
For a split second he hesitated before shaking his head. ‘Sorry, it’s a bit late for me. Still on Kiwi hours. Maybe some other time, though.’ Sliding his arm from under her fingers, he drained the dregs of his Scotch and set the tumbler back on the bar, fished in his jacket pocket for his wallet.
Okay, that was strike three. All out.
She couldn’t understand why he was resisting. It was obvious from the way his eyes flickered with interest over her body that he liked what he saw. Even Brad the barman seemed to have noticed him checking her out. Angel could see the man smirking while he polished a shot glass, watching the pair from under veiled lids.
And yet here was Seb turning down an offer of coffee so he could catch an early night. Was the thought of his wife Carole, the porcelain-blonde screen goddess, holding him back? He must know ‘coffee’ was an internationally recognised euphemism for – well, any normal man would have been tearing her clothes off on one of the Hotel D’Azur’s king-sized beds by now.
At her elbow she saw Seb rise and hand Brad a wad of notes to settle his account, telling the barman, to his obvious approval, that he could keep the change.
Last chance, Angel. Stall him. Cue the emergency backup plan.
Reaching for her drink, she knocked her bag to the floor with deliberate carelessness. Credit cards, lipstick, coins, hairclips and other detritus spilled out drunkenly around Seb’s feet.
‘Shit, I’m so sorry! What an idiot.’
‘Here, let me get it.’ Kneeling down, he started reclaiming her possessions from the deep-pile Persian carpet, shovelling them back into the bag’s satin-lined maw haphazardly.
She could see the top of his curly head at her feet, shining burnished bronze in the mellow lamplight of the bar. Unruly locks whispered soft against her calves and she felt his breath, hot and heavy, on her ankles.
Oh God, who was seducing who here? Muscles she barely knew existed spasmed as a surging heat throbbed through her, beginning at the point where his curls unwittingly met her bare flesh.
Angel bit down hard on her lower lip to stifle a telltale gasp, surprised by her body’s reaction to his touch. Squirming on her barstool, she moved her legs away from the kiss of the torturing, teasing strands.
She stared fixedly at a mirrored panel behind the bar. It shot her own flushed face, parted lips and wide, glazed eyes back to her as she struggled to regain control, to banish the too-vivid image that had risen unbidden of gazing down at Seb’s tousled chestnut hair, running her fingers through those curls while he nuzzled her from ankle to thigh, flicked his tongue across the naked, yielding flesh between her legs until he reached the flimsy film of her underwear, slid his hand upwards to delve into the wetness beneath, the wetness she could feel rising now just thinking about his touch as desire shot through her nerves and hit her square between the thighs…
Jesus, where had it sprung from, this raw, unexpected need for another human being? It had been a long time now since she’d been with anyone: two years since she’d broken up with Leo. And she wasn’t in the habit of having one-night stands – had never had one, in fact, even in her carefree student days. Yes, that must be it. It had been too long, and now her treacherous body was rebelling, trying to convince her she wanted to do things she knew she shouldn’t.
Steve had made it clear she only needed to get Seb in a compromising position for the cameras and then it was job done as far as his story was concerned. Once the filmmaker had been papped with his trousers down she was free to make her excuses and leave before it went any further. But there was something else guiding her now – a deep, primal urgency, different from anything she’d experienced before.
Suppose she went through with it. Suppose she couldn’t stop herself. Got the pictures, covered the camera and then just… let herself be with him. Could she do that? A complete stranger… a married complete stranger?
Although, of course, she’d have to get him there first.
She gave a visible jerk as Seb pressed the bag’s silver clasp shut with a click and handed it up to her, dragging his gaze appreciatively along the line of her legs while he pulled himself upright.
‘Thank you.’ She hoped he wouldn’t notice how flustered she was; the feverish cheeks, the slight breathlessness in her voice.
‘No problem. Well, I guess this is goodnight then. Nice to have met you… Angel.’ She felt a jolt of electricity as he tried out her name for the first time, let it linger on his tongue while his eyes, alive with golden fire in the lamplight, probed hers.
‘Wait.’ Okay, one last try. If this didn’t work, Steve could sod his story and she’d go home and drown her humiliation in a bottle of wine. ‘Look, I’ve got a suite upstairs and there’s a pretty well-stocked mini bar in the lounge. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come up for a nightcap before bed? I mean, no worries if you’re tired; there’s always another time…’
She looked straight at him with an expression half pleading with him, half daring him to accompany her.
Seb was silent for what seemed like an age. Head slightly cocked, lips curving at one side, he appraised all her tiny dress revealed until she felt almost naked before him.
‘Yes,’ he said, giving in. ‘Yes, I’d like that.’
Whatever it takes…
Chapter 3 (#ucffe615e-83a6-56bd-b0fd-a7b96be15c9d)
The hotel suite was heavy with art-deco-style white bevelled panelling and opulent silver detail. The designer had obviously channelled the Roaring Twenties and the room shrieked decadence, from the grey crepe curtains to the massive Salvador Dali print on the wall. Two huge windows across one wall offered panoramic views over the lights of the city, dotted against midnight blue. A sliding panel of frosted glass led to the quilted-ivory bedroom, with its emperor-sized bed and sunken corner bath.
It probably cost more for one night’s stay than Angel earned in weeks on the internship scheme. Thank God she wasn’t paying!
She delved into the mini bar, hidden away inside an inlaid wood cabinet.
‘Champagne okay?’ she called to Seb, who was sat with one leg crossed over his knee on the plush velvet corner suite, admiring the view over the city. What the hell, the Investigator was picking up the bill.
He nodded assent and she dug a couple of crystal flutes out of the cabinet’s lower compartment. She opened the champagne bottle with a dramatic pop that made her jump and poured them a chilled glass of golden bubbles each.
Angel handed Seb his drink and sat down a little apart from him on the sofa, the memory of the heat she’d felt in the bar still fresh in her mind. She couldn’t afford to lose control again, not yet. She had to make sure Steve got those pictures.
His brow puckered slightly. It was clear the distance didn’t please him, but he quickly smoothed his frown.
‘So what do you do when you’re not getting stood up in hotel bars, Angel?’ His cheeks dimpled with the hint of a smile while he sipped the sparkling liquid, which irritated her. Nice to know he found her lack of success with men so amusing. Even if they were imaginary ones. ‘Do you work?’
Did she work? What a question! Obviously she bloody worked. She had to pay the rent like all the other average joes, didn’t she?
‘Yes, I –’ She scrambled around for a job that might sound vaguely plausible, mentally slapping herself for not thinking up a backstory in advance. ‘I’m a, er, reflexologist. Staying in town for a conference,’ she added helpfully.
She hoped that sounded obscure enough to be believable. Reflexology was Emily’s chosen career and it had been the first thing that popped into her head.
‘You don’t look like a reflexologist.’
She laughed. ‘Why, how are reflexologists supposed to look?’
Seb crinkled his eyes. ‘I don’t know, just… not like you. Not quite so…’
‘Ginger?’
His voice was soft when he answered, tangling her gaze in his. ‘I was going to say hot.’
Angel’s stomach lurched in pleasant surprise as the words sank in. She felt a deep-pink blush creeping up from her toes, crawling along her neck and into her cheeks.
She took a deep breath, struggling to compose herself. ‘Well, I’ll just have to prove it to you,’ she said, attempting the bright and flirty. Putting her drink down on the glass-topped coffee table, she shuffled closer and took his free hand in hers.
A crackling pulse of energy slammed through her body when she touched him. She caught her breath sharply and looked up at him, but his eyes were cast down and he didn’t raise them to meet hers. If he’d felt anything, he wasn’t letting on.
Okay, down girl. Rein it in…
His hand was large, tanned and smooth, with a sprinkling of downy hair. Angel turned it over so his palm was facing upwards and started circling gently with the tip of her thumb, just where his hand joined his wrist.
‘You see, this is what we call a pressure point. When I rub just there, it’s guaranteed to relieve stress and cure all known symptoms of jet lag.’
He laughed, revealing perfect straight, white teeth. God, it was an incredible laugh. Deep, bold and unrestrained.
‘What I could really use for that is a shower. I’ve been travelling all day and this suit is starting to feel decidedly lived-in.’ He closed his fingers around her hand and fixed her with a significant gaze. ‘Is it okay if I use yours, Angel? Saves me having to leave you.’
She flushed, looking down at the hand now holding hers. Should she pull her fingers away? She had to find an excuse to leave the room, cool off for five minutes…
‘Um, there’s a pretty fancy bath in the suite. I can run it for you if you want?’
‘Thanks, I’d appreciate it.’
Angel felt a surge of relief as he loosed her fingers. Standing up, she slipped through the sliding glass panel to the other room.
Okay, this certainly made things easier for her. A bath meant he’d be naked in front of the camera without her having to get too close. Too easy. All she had to do was follow him in and make sure he looked good and compromised.
Whatever that meant…
In the bedroom, she turned on two polished brass taps and watched dreamily while jets of water started to fill the corner bath. The round porcelain tub was surrounded by tiles of white marble, with small lights embedded into the stone. She flicked a switch and they illuminated the room with a candle glow.
There was a little bottle of hotel bubble bath on one side, so she threw some of that in too. The room began to cloud with fragrant, spicy ribbons of steam.
That wouldn’t do: the cupboard mirror would mist over and block the camera feeding back to Steve at home. She turned the cold tap up a little and dabbled in the water with her little finger to check the temperature. Perfect.
She walked over to the cupboard now, opened it to see if the camera was doing its job. Yes, there it was, mounted at the back, an innocent-looking little black box. She gave Steve a sarcastic wave and closed the door again.
Her own reflection blinked back at her, showing her apparently now permanently pink cheeks. She noticed her hair had started to escape from its twist and, pulling out the jewelled pins holding it in place, shook it free around her shoulders. Wearing it up had given it a bouncy wave that suited her more than her usual poker-straight look.
Angel could picture Steve’s look of disapproval at the other end of the camera as she kicked off the leopard-print heels and stashed them under the bed. Well, heels might be sexy, but her feet were starting to lose all feeling. She flexed the liberated toes with relief.
She knew she had to go back to the lounge and face Seb. He seemed to be relaxing now, enjoying her company with all the confidence of a man who sensed he was on a promise, but the more he relaxed, the more tense she felt. She just didn’t know if she could control herself with him. If she managed to get him in a compromising position for the camera, how could she stop herself from going further? Just touching his hand had sent her shooting straight to boiling point. Two years of celibacy meant she was coiled tight as a spring, and this was easily the most magnetic man she’d ever met.
Angel went through to the en-suite and splashed cold water on her face in an effort to cool down. She stared at herself in the mirror, willing herself calm, cool, in control; fought the fluttering in her stomach and the bubbling in her nerves. Okay, she could do this…
Slicking on a fresh sliver of lipstick, she slid back through the glass panel to join Seb.
He’d taken off his suit jacket, which was now draped over the back of the sofa. He looked younger in just the white shirt – designer, she was guessing – and far less formal. He shot an approving glance at the loose auburn hair cascading around her shoulders as she walked towards him.
‘Sorry, it’s a pretty big tub. Could take about fifteen minutes to fill,’ she said, plastering on a bright smile. ‘More bubbly to go with your bubbles?’
Reaching out, he took her hand and drew her down next to him on the sofa. ‘Actually I think I’d like to learn more about this ancient art of reflexology,’ he said, his voice soft and low. ‘Maybe I can discover a few of these pressure points for myself.’
She could feel her nipples puckering underneath the skimpy bra as he shifted sideways to face her and cupped both her shoulders in his powerful hands.
‘For example…’ He brushed her hair back over her left shoulder, running gentle fingertips across her warm cheek and down her neck. ‘Here…’ He pressed a delicate kiss under her ear. ‘And here…’ He planted another in the curve between her neck and shoulder, this time letting it linger, leaving his hot, wet lips against her skin for a moment before pulling away. She sucked in her lower lip, stifling a gasp.
Responding on instinct to the warmth surging through her body, she allowed herself to do something she’d been longing to do all evening. She reached out and combed her fingers through his unruly curls, brushing them away from the handsome face. She brought her other hand up to trace the rigid contour of his jawline with her fingertips, felt the taut skin, the coarse sandpaper stubble, the sculpted lips she was longing to feel on hers.
‘We barely know each other…’
‘We both want this, Angel. We’re grown-ups. Does it really matter?’
In answer, she tilted her face up to his, mouth slightly open, inviting his kiss. He brought his lips down to meet hers, kissing her softly as her arms went up around his neck.
Angel felt her body spark into life as the kiss became deeper, hungrier. She parted her lips for him, giving him full access; relished the erotic embrace of his tongue with hers. He explored her mouth with expert skill, his arms reaching out to enfold her and draw her body in towards his.
She was half kneeling on the narrow sofa, her right foot on the floor and the other tucked under her thigh. Shifting a little, she hooked her right leg behind Seb’s so she could move in closer to him. She could smell the musk of his aftershave, distinctive notes of woodsmoke and chocolate. Drawing back from the kiss, she moved her lips down along the sinews of his neck and under the open collar of his shirt.
She pushed her body into his with a little sigh, crushing the breasts that begged to be released from their satin prison into his chest. To her delight, a small moan escaped him when he felt the press of her hardened nipples. He slid his hands down her back to her buttocks, pulled her right up against him.
She knew what he wanted. Bringing her other leg up from the carpet, she planted one knee on each side of his athletic frame, straddling him.
Angel lowered her body to meet his, gasping when she felt the hard arousal through his clothing. Feeling him pressing into her, ready for her, the last remnant of her self-control slipped away.
Seb’s fingertips were caressing her back with a delicate touch, tracing the lines of her shoulder blades before homing in on the fastening of her dress. Dragging the zip down, he slid the flimsy thing up her body and over her shoulders, helped her wiggle free and she sat astride his broad thighs in her underwear, too aroused now to feel embarrassed. He held her back from him for a moment while he scanned the creamy skin, the curves and undulations of her slim frame, and she felt his appreciation for her body stirring between her thighs.
He ran smooth, wet lips along her ears and neck. Pushing her upwards into a kneeling position until his face was level with her chest, she felt her body stiffen as his mouth found its way to the ripe swell of her breasts. He set them free, unhooking her bra and flinging it away to join her dress on the carpet.
She bit down on her bottom lip in appreciation as she felt him clamp his mouth first around one hard, pink peak, then the other, massaging gently with his tongue.
A gasp escaped her when he ran his palm down her body and began brushing a teasing thumb back and forth under the waistband of her thong with the lightest of strokes. Angel leaned forward to kiss him but he held her back, his keen gaze darting over her face to see the effect of his touch. He pressed her parted lips lightly with one fingertip, felt their moisture and the heat of her ragged breath.
His hand slid down further until it slipped between her legs. He groaned with pleasure, feeling the wetness he’d created there, how ready her body was for him. Firmly, rhythmically he moved his fingertips against her, circling and pressing with intuitive skill, smiling with satisfaction as her lashes flickered and her head fell back. She heard a low, soulful moan and realised it was coming from her.
Her brain was fogged now with a hungry need for him. She pressed herself against his hand, groaning as, insistent and unrelenting, he continued to explore her. White-hot climax simmered on the edge of every nerve ending. Oh God, she couldn’t hold it back any more…
No. Too fast. It was all happening too fast.
This was no good. She had to get him to the bedroom so Steve could get his pictures. Summoning her self-control and willing it through her body with a mammoth effort, she pulled away from the feverish, exploring fingers.
‘What about… your bath?’ she panted. She was surprised to hear how different her voice sounded, thick and dripping with lust.
‘You’ll join me?’
‘God, yes…’
He lifted her up and she twined her legs around his back as he carried her through the sliding glass panel into the bedroom.
The mirrored cupboard containing the hidden camera was right behind them when they entered. Aware of the great view Steve was getting of her rear, sliced by the tiny thong, Angel wriggled free of Seb’s strong arms. She grabbed one of the white cotton towels that lay folded on the bed and wrapped it around her.
This wouldn’t do. She was supposed to be seducing him, not the other way round, yet here she was in nothing but her knickers, breathless from his touch, while he was still fully clothed. Her backside alone certainly didn’t warrant a front-page story in the Investigator.
‘What are you doing?’ His voice was hoarse and heavy.
‘No more peep show for you,’ she heard herself say in a teasing tone. ‘Not until I get one too. Strip.’
Seb grinned at her. ‘Yes ma’am.’
He unbuttoned the white shirt, now crumpled and sodden, and tossed it to one side. The tight, bronzed skin underneath was gilded with sweat. It screamed out to be touched, stroked, licked. Angel held herself back with an effort, a spasm of arousal humming through her body.
Finally he peeled off shoes and socks, unbuckled his belt and slid off trousers and boxer shorts, allowing his rock-hard erection to spring free.
‘Now where’s my reward, Angel?’ he said in a low voice, coming towards her in the full, exquisite, quintessentially male beauty of his nakedness.
