'I don't think my part of the jungle is anything like yours.' She wanted to turn away from him, to drop her eyes from that glittering gaze, but it mesmerised her. 'I just do my job the best I can, and I enjoy it, of course—that helps. And I'm quite tough, actually; appearances can be deceptive.'
'I'm well aware of that,' he said with deep cynicism. 'Believe me, I learnt that at a very early age, courtesy of the sharks and barracudas on two legs who would sell their own grandmother for a quick dollar.' He turned fully to her now, lifting her chin with a thoughtful hand, and she forced herself to remain perfectly still at his touch. 'So you're tough, are you? A thoroughly modem woman of the nineties who knows exactly where she is going and what she wants?'
'Yes.' She stared back at him steadily. 'I've got a good job, a lovely flat and I enjoy my life. What more can anyone ask?'
'Someone to keep you warm in bed at night?' He spoke lightly, but at her tight shrug his eyes narrowed. 'Most women have a nesting instinct, don't they? An urge to settle down eventually?'
'I've no idea.' She forced a smile. 'But then I'm not 'most women'. I'm an individual—me.'
'That wasn't meant disparagingly,' he said quietly. 'But even the most determined career women often combine home and family with a job, and very successfully, too.'
'Yes, they do.' The smile was brittle now. 'But it's not something I would want to put myself through, frankly. I've seen some of those 'determined' career women desperately trying to juggle home commitments, a sick child, a difficult husband, and all the time wearing themselves to a frazzle. It isn't worth it.' She lowered her chin as she spoke, forcing him to withdraw his hand.
'So it's one or the other?'
'For me, yes.' She wanted to brush a loose curl off her cheek, but didn't dare extract her hand from under Luke's coat, knowing he would see the trembling she was trying to hide. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? This conversation was killing her; she was pretending to be something she wasn't.
'Let's hope you don't regret it when you're an old lady and other moguls have taken your place,' he said shortly.
'I won't.' She tried, she really tried to keep all bitterness out of her voice, but those sharp ears must have caught something, because there was a long moment of silence and then his voice was soft when he spoke.
'What was his name, Josie? And don't tell me it wasn't a man who soured you to thoughts of settling down and family life.'
'I prefer my job. What's wrong with that?' she fired back tightly.
'I don't believe you,' he said calmly.
'Well, it's probably not good business sense to argue with the boss, but this time you've got it wrong.' She raised her face and looked at him, which was a mistake. His eyes were fixed on her and a bolt of electrical awareness shot between them, its impact devastating.
'As I've said before, you aren't a very good liar, Josie Owens,' he said softly. 'And that, along with several other things, doesn't quite fit in with the image.'
'I've no idea what you're talking about—'
The last thing, the very last thing she had expected at that precise moment in time was his kiss. His head lowered in one heartbeat as he leant over her and then his mouth was on hers, warm, coaxing and unbearably sweet.
She couldn't believe it for a second, her mouth stunned beneath his, and then as her heart began to pound wildly she was aware of the delicious sensations of touch and taste as he drew her close against him. His lips were sensual and knowing and so, so sure, and the kiss deepened and held until she knew he must feel the trembling she couldn't control.
The angle of his body was pressing the soft fullness of her breasts against the hard wall of his chest, and the rippling warmth from their tender, engorged peaks was heightening what his mouth was doing to her, causing the blood to surge through her veins with an excitement that was almost unbearable. He was an expert, a virtuoso at this… The thought was there, but too remote to make any impression on her entranced state.
And then, with an almost cynical disregard for hex melting capitulation, he adjusted her head against his shoulder as he settled more fully into his own seat again. 'Now that should be more comfortable…'
She heard the words above her head without their impact registering for a few seconds, and then, as she realised that he was asking nothing more, she felt burning colour start at her toes and fire upwards into every part of her body.
'Use my shoulder as a pillow and bring your feet up into the seat. You're so tiny it's like a bed to you anyway.'
He'd stopped. He'd stopped! She did as he suggested simply because her body had gone into automatic as her mind exploded with the knowledge that he was totally unaffected by the kiss. Those few minutes had been the most devastating of her life and he was as unruffled as always, composed and untroubled.
But he must have known how she felt, sensed her response… She bit her lip so tightly she was aware of the salty tang of blood in her mouth. Or had it all been a subtle kind of punishment for her thinking the worst of him? The same kind of thing she had sensed earlier, when he had lifted her into the car? Was he teaching her a lesson, showing her that he could have her compliant and docile in just a few minutes if he put his mind to it?
She almost groaned out loud. Because he could… Damn him, he could. Oh, this was ridiculous. Of course he couldn't. It would only have been a few moments more before she would have pulled away. Of course she would.
'Warm enough?' His voice was deep and cool and she could quite cheerfully have hit him for its steadiness. She managed a nod against his shoulder, not trusting her voice, which she was sure would be as shaky as the rest of her, and then everything else was forgotten as he began a rhythmic, soothing stroking of her hair. 'Try and get some sleep. It's been a long day and you must be exhausted.'
Exhausted? If the circumstances had been different she would have laughed out loud at the incongruity of calling her throbbing, volatile body 'exhausted'. There was a heat, a furore inside her that she had never experienced before, and she didn't have a clue how to handle it.
But then, as the minutes passed and she remained lying against him, the touch of his hand on her hair light and calming, she began to relax and her mind dulled. She couldn't think any more; it was too tiring… She was too battered, too confused…
CHAPTER FOUR