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She opened her mouth to ask him that exact question and then closed it again. What was the point? It was too late. Too late for both of them. They’d moved past the point where communication could make a difference. And the past was history now. She just wanted him to be history too and the less she spoke, the better. There was only one level on which they’d ever communicated effectively and she didn’t even want to think about that.
So she stayed silent, trying to anticipate his next move.
‘I don’t want Farrer anywhere near my business,’ he said harshly, ‘but I want you working for me again.’
His emphatic statement should have stimulated a sharp retort on her part but her brain had ceased to function. She was operating on a much baser level.
Mesmerised by his shockingly potent masculinity, Lauranne opened her mouth and her tongue flickered out to moisten her lips. His dark gaze homed in on the gesture with the speed of a heat-seeking missile and suddenly she was holding her breath. Remembering.
His eyes lifted back to hers and she felt the tension throb between them, the atmosphere so taut that it threatened to snap at any moment. His eyes dropped to the tiny pulse in her neck and then moved lower still, resting on the soft swell of her breasts under the cream silk blouse.
Did he know?
Did he know what effect he had on her? Fighting the temptation to lift her hands and cover herself, Lauranne stood still, helpless to prevent the hardening of her nipples and the growing ache in her pelvis.
Imprisoned by that shimmering dark gaze, she felt herself melt inside, hypnotised by a force too powerful to resist.
Sexual awareness throbbed between them and then he swore softly in Greek and dragged his gaze away from her, a muscle working in his lean, bronzed cheek.
Of course he knew, she thought helplessly. Hadn’t he always known? He’d recognised her response to him before she had. And that was hardly surprising. A man as experienced with her sex as Zander knew everything there was to know about female reactions. He was able to detect the most subtle of signs and know exactly when to make his move.
‘Farrer would never be able to satisfy a woman like you.’ His harsh statement took her by surprise and she gaped at him, stunned by his unspoken implication that he would be the only male to ever fulfil that task. ‘You’d trample all over him.’
‘Not every woman is vulnerable to your particular brand of Neanderthal machismo,’ she said bitterly and then wished she hadn’t because he was across the room in less than two strides, pulling her against him in a powerful movement that reminded her that she was talking utter rubbish.
She was extremely vulnerable and she always had been where Zander was concerned.
‘Let’s test that theory, shall we?’ His dark eyes shielded by impossibly long lashes, he gazed down at her, muttered something in Greek and then brought his mouth down on hers in a kiss of such savage urgency that she had no time even to whimper a protest.
Her mouth opened under the determined pressure of his and then she was kissing him back, her tongue tangling with his, her hands sneaking upwards to lock in his silky black hair.
It was wild and hot, the kiss of a man seeking to stake his claim, and she responded in full measure, her hips grinding against his in an effort to draw herself closer to the very centre of his masculinity.
How she’d missed this—
How she’d missed him.
It was as if their bodies recognised each other, drawn together by a force more powerful than the mere physical. She felt him shudder and then he was lifting her onto the desk, curling her legs around his muscular length so that they were held together in the most intimate way possible.
‘Not vulnerable?’ He growled the words against her mouth and yanked her closer so that she felt the hard throb of his erection against her most sensitive flesh. ‘Does he make you feel this, Lauranne?’
Heat exploded in her pelvis and she squirmed closer still, frustrated by the barriers that still remained.
And then suddenly he released her, uttered a savage curse and extracted himself from the coil of her body with decisive force, leaving her to clutch dizzily at the desk for support.
Her whole body throbbed with a sexual need that she hadn’t felt for five long years and for a second she stared at him blankly, unable to comprehend why he had ended something so utterly perfect. Then her passion-clouded brain flickered slowly to life and humiliation set in.
He’d ended it because the kiss had had nothing to do with chemistry and everything to do with revenge. She’d dented his ego and he was punishing her.
What was she doing?
This man was her enemy. Without thinking she’d issued another challenge, this time to his sexuality, and he’d responded by kissing her in anger, using passion as a punishment, not a seduction. The moment his mouth had crushed hers she’d been clinging to him, swept away by a primitive sexual need that she’d only ever felt with this man.
Was she really that shallow?
‘I hate you,’ she whispered, but the words were meaningless even to her because the lips that formed them were soft and swollen from his kisses and the eyes that glared at him were still hazy with passion.
‘I don’t care.’ He stepped away from her with all the grim satisfaction of a male who had very definitely proved his point. ‘I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty. We’ll discuss terms over dinner.’
Dinner?
She stared at him, muted by the shivers that still affected her body.
‘What?’ He lifted a smooth, dark eyebrow in her direction. ‘No smart remark? No refusal? No, you’re the last man on earth I’d eat dinner with? This isn’t going to be much fun if you’re so compliant, agape mou.’
‘Why d-dinner?’ Still shocked by the intensity of her response to him, her brain seemed to have slowed to a virtual halt.
He dealt her a wry smile. ‘Despite the fact you claim not to be vulnerable to me, I suspect that the only way you and I will ever be able to conduct a conversation of any length, agape mou, is if we meet in a very public place. Hopefully the presence of an audience will curb our natural instincts to strip each other naked.’
She stared at him, shattered at being confronted with such an unpalatable truth. How could she have responded like that? She should have slapped his handsome face, instead of which—
‘I have absolutely no trouble resisting you,’ she croaked and he smiled.
‘Of course you don’t.’
His eyes dropped to her breasts and she was suddenly painfully conscious that her nipples were pushing against the thin fabric of her blouse, visible evidence of her arousal.
Resisting the temptation to cover herself, she lifted her chin, trying to salvage a trace of dignity from the wreckage of her pride.
‘I don’t want to discuss terms.’ She wasn’t going to let him threaten her. ‘I have nothing to say to you, Zander, in private or in public.’
‘Then I’ll do the talking.’ Totally indifferent to her protests, he strolled casually towards the door and then paused, a hint of danger in his glittering dark eyes as he focused his attention on her one more time. ‘Oh, and a word of warning—’ his voice was quiet but she tensed, detecting the steel under that deceptively soft tone ‘—if you want to have a civilised evening, then don’t mention Farrer.’
Civilised?
She almost laughed.
How could an evening with Zander ever be civilised? He was the least civilised person she’d ever met.
‘I won’t be mentioning anything because I’m not meeting you.’
Black eyes slammed into hers, holding her captive. Like two fighters in a ring they faced each other, the atmosphere antagonistic and highly charged.
‘Don’t play games with me, Lauranne,’ he warned softly. ‘The stakes are high. Seven-thirty. And you know well enough that if you’re not here, I’ll find you.’
With that he turned and strolled out of the room with the same degree of cool authority with which he’d entered it.
Lauranne stared after him with helpless hostility, unsure whether to scream or cry. For five years she’d successfully locked her past away. She’d managed to get on with her life. And then Zander had sauntered back into it with his hot black eyes and his arrogant ways and all her attempts to forget what they’d shared, their marriage, were ground to dust. One frantic, febrile kiss later and suddenly her emotions were free again.
When he’d walked through the door she’d been spitting and angry, in fact all the things she should have been five years before when she’d been too distraught to defend herself from his accusations.
She knew now what he was and who he was—
Knew that Zander Volakis didn’t possess a soft side—
But all that had ceased to matter when he’d kissed her. She’d forgotten everything except the burning heat of his mouth, the erotic probe of his tongue and the hardness of his body against hers. And her traitorous, yearning body had responded with a desperation that had been humiliatingly obvious to a man as experienced and sophisticated as Zander.
She slid off the table and straightened her clothes, wishing that her emotions could be tidied with the same ease. The knowledge that he could still have such a powerful effect on her filled her with despair.
It didn’t really matter if he agreed to a divorce, she thought helplessly. What they shared was so powerful that all the lawyers in the world wouldn’t be able to negotiate an end to it. And the only answer was to stay away from him.
Once he discovered that he couldn’t bully her, he’d leave her alone. He couldn’t really ruin the business, she reasoned, mentally running through their list of clients. He was calling her bluff.
Trying to frighten her into submission.
There was no way she was eating dinner with him. In fact there was no way she was going to see him again in any shape or form.
He might be arriving to collect her at seven-thirty, but she wouldn’t be here. And if she knew him well enough to know that he’d find her, then he should also know her well enough to know that she wouldn’t make it easy for him.
If he thought he was going to knock on the door and collect her, then he was in for a long and disappointing evening.
CHAPTER THREE
ZANDER strode out to his sports car, furious with himself and cursing his utter lack of control.
What the hell had come over him? he wondered savagely as he tossed the file on Phoenix PR onto the passenger seat and slid into the car, oblivious to the rest of his team and his bodyguards who immediately swarmed into the car parked behind. He’d virtually jumped her on her table and he never behaved like that. He was a man who prided himself on his self-discipline, on being able to operate without allowing emotions to interfere with his decision-making.
But Lauranne reduced his behaviour to a level so basic that he barely recognised himself.
He’d wanted to punish her—
It had been the shock of seeing her, he reassured himself grimly. He hadn’t expected to see her. And he certainly hadn’t expected to see Farrer.
It had been the desire to wipe Farrer’s name from her lips that had driven him to behave like that, staking a claim where none lay.
And the moment he’d felt her soft mouth open under his he’d been lost, overwhelmed by a raw physical need that he’d never experienced around any woman except Lauranne O’Neill.
Lauranne—
The biggest mistake of his life.
As if to taunt him, a powerful vision exploded inside his brain. A vision of honey-blonde hair and a soft mouth curved in a tempting smile designed to drive a man to the edge of sanity.
Lauranne, with her micro miniskirts, endless brown legs and hotly passionate nature.
Zander gave a humourless laugh. For most of his life he’d watched his father make an utter fool of himself over a string of women and he’d vowed never to do the same thing himself. There was no way he was ever going to get married. He wasn’t so stupid.
But then he’d met Lauranne—
He groaned and leaned his head against the seat of the car, almost able to feel the touch of her mouth on his. From the moment they’d met they’d been enveloped by a scorching fire of passion so intense and primitive that for a short while it had consumed both of them. To the extent that he’d done the one thing he’d always promised himself he’d never do.
He’d married her.
And to this day he didn’t understand why he’d done it.
Breathing heavily, Zander reached out a lean brown hand and flipped open the file that his lawyer had given him, his heart thudding as he gazed at the photograph on the first page.
Had he bothered to open the file sooner he might not now be suffering from a severe case of mental and sexual frustration, he reflected grimly, reminding himself to always check out every company that his lawyer suggested in future. Had he known it was her he would never have agreed to meet her.
Or would he?
Staring down at those amazing blue eyes, he felt a reaction so raw, so primitively sexual that his body stirred in the most masculine way possible. His mouth tightened in bitter self-condemnation. It had always been like that with this woman. From the first moment he’d seen her, sipping a cocktail in one of his bars by the beach, swinging one long tanned leg from the bar stool, he’d been hooked. His reputation for being cool had certainly not been earned on that occasion, he reflected with grim amusement. In fact he’d been so hot for her he’d used every technique in his armoury to ensure that she ended up where he wanted her.
In his bed.
His entire relationship with Lauranne had been one long burn of emotion. He’d brought out the hotly sexual side of her nature and somehow she’d found his sensitive side. Until then he hadn’t even known he had a sensitive side, but Lauranne had wriggled herself into places previously off limits to all females, no matter how beautiful or satisfying in bed.
Zander studied the cool, businesslike photograph of the woman that he’d once known in the most intimate way that a man could know a woman.
He’d been her first lover and that had given him a satisfaction that only a very traditional Greek male could ever truly understand.
She’d been his.
He’d held her as she’d trembled against him, swallowed her cries of ecstasy as he’d introduced her to the pleasures of sex for the first time in her life.
And he’d been ruthlessly unforgiving when he’d discovered her infidelity. His father’s experience of women should have more than prepared him for her betrayal, but the emotions he’d experienced had been so powerful that they’d shocked him. He’d felt out of control and he’d hated that feeling. He’d just wanted her out of his life before he was tempted to do something even more stupid than marrying her.
Like forgiving her.
His mouth tightened slightly as he scanned the rest of the file, taking in her astonishing achievements in the five years since he’d last seen her. Even as the anger simmered inside him, he found himself admiring the way she’d obviously managed to build a successful business from the ashes of the career that he’d personally destroyed.
But that didn’t surprise him. She possessed rare qualities, qualities that he’d spotted within moments of meeting her.
Everything about Lauranne was bright. Her mind, her wit and her shiny blonde hair that had wrapped itself around him in a silken seduction every time they’d made love.
Being with Lauranne had been like gazing into the sun. It had left him blinded and dazzled.
And now she wanted a divorce.
His jaw tightened. He’d never even thought about divorce before she’d mentioned it. He’d just put the whole disastrous episode out of his head and got on with his life.
Intensely irritated by the depth of emotion that the mere memory of Lauranne could evoke, Zander snapped the file shut, his eyes suddenly hard.
Swearing fluently in Greek, he pulled into the flow of traffic and made for his office. He needed a cold shower. A very, very cold shower. And after that maybe he’d be able to disengage his libido and engage his brain.
‘I couldn’t believe it when he walked into the room.’ Tom stared at Lauranne in utter dismay. ‘Tell me you threw him out.’
She gave a wan smile, thinking of Zander’s six-foot-three, muscle-packed frame. ‘Hardly.’
