A Deal Before the Altar

‘And just how far are you prepared to go in the name of sisterly love?’

Behind him he heard her intake of breath and knew he’d touched a nerve. A stab of desire shot through him as he imagined her sighing in pleasure as he kissed her. Quickly he regained control. Now was not a good time to find himself attracted to a woman—especially one with such a tarnished and scandalous reputation. He had a business to run. One that was a contentious issue between himself and Carlo. One he had to find a solution to quickly. Time was running out.

‘As I have already said, Mr Ramirez, I will do whatever it takes.’ Her voice had a slightly husky quality to it, which threatened to undo his control, so he remained focused on the view of London a moment longer.

Finally he turned to face her, strode across the thick carpet until he stood at her side, his right arm almost touching her shoulder. He looked sideways down at her, catching her light floral scent as he did so. Not the sort usually favoured by a woman of her reputation—it was soft and very feminine.

‘So you agree with their plans to marry...your sister and my brother?’

She stood firm, like a soldier on parade being inspected by a commanding officer. He walked slowly round behind her, admiration building. She didn’t flinch, didn’t move. His gaze was drawn to the streaks of fiery red which entwined in her hair and again he thought of her in his bed, hair wildly fanned out across the pillow.

‘Why shouldn’t they get married?’

Her words drew him sharply back. ‘They are young,’ he said quietly, and walked away from her. Being close distracted him, took his mind from the current problem to more primal matters. ‘Too young.’

‘They are in love.’ The words flew at him across the room with such passion that he stopped to look at her, wondering if she was as indifferent and in control as she wanted him to think. He looked at her beautiful face, the firm set of her full lips and the haughty rise of her brows. Had he just imagined that spark of passion? Conjured it up because of the direction his thoughts had gone? He must have done. As she stood before him she was not only sculpted from ice but frozen to the core.

A challenge indeed.

‘And you believe in love, do you?’ All through his younger years he’d been introduced to an endless stream of his father’s girlfriends. Then as a teenager he’d watched from the sidelines as his father had fallen under the spell of a younger woman. The love they’d shared and later bestowed on Carlo, his new brother, had been incomprehensible to him. It had done little to instil ideas of love and happiness in him.

‘About as much as you do.’

Her gaze met his, stubbornly holding it, provoking him to deny it.

‘Very perceptive, Ms Henshaw. We are, then, kindred spirits, able to enjoy the opposite sex without the drama of emotional attachment.’

This was always the attitude he’d adopted, and one that had begun to feel less and less favourable. But the idea of being so captivated by a woman, so completely under her spell it would make a man turn his back on his son, was even less appealing.

‘Put like that, then, yes, I suppose we are.’

* * *

Georgina cringed inwardly, knowing exactly what he was referring to. Was he really going to drag up her past, use it as a reason to stop his brother from marrying Emma? She wouldn’t let him—not when she now knew the real reason he didn’t want them to marry. She had to change his mind.

For a moment her nerves almost got the better of her. There was only one option she could think of to secure her sister’s happiness, and although it didn’t sit well with her she had to persuade him it was possible.

‘What exactly is it you want, Ms Henshaw?’

A distanced, almost bored tone had entered his voice and she watched him stalk back to the windows, looking more like a caged animal than a businessman.

‘I want to put a business proposition to you.’

He turned instantly, his interest piqued, and she stifled a smile of triumph. She was now talking his language. Business was what made this man tick. That was obvious.

‘A proposition? You?’

He moved back to his desk and gestured her to sit, the muscles of his arm rippling beneath his white shirt snagging her attention. Mentally she shook herself. Getting distracted by his good looks would not help her through this. And hadn’t she told herself months ago that relationships were not what she needed?

‘I’d prefer to stand,’ she said firmly, not missing the quirk of his dark brows.

‘As you wish.’

He sat behind his desk, his dark eyes watching her. She wouldn’t let him intimidate her. She had to remain as calm and detached as possible. So much was riding on her being able to deliver her proposition in an efficient, businesslike manner.