The Right Mr. Wrong

‘It seems to be the look tonight.’ Alannah winked.

Yeah, well, it was all right for Alannah—she was the definition of pert’n’petite.

‘Where’s my bra?’ Vivi violently whispered.

‘That ugly thing was a bra?’ Alannah answered excruciatingly loudly. ‘No idea.’ She breezed out from the curtain to sing at the others. ‘Comfort stop, won’t be a sec.’

Vivi stayed hidden, hunting for her bra and acutely aware of the quiet—inaudible—murmuring between Gia and Liam. How had Liam met Gia? Victoria had control of the calendar; she knew everything Gia was up to, didn’t she?

He had to b

e here for Alannah. He must be the guy the model reckoned was the love of her life. Vivi grimly hoped that the usual pattern was followed and the ‘Unattainable’ would eat him up and spit him out.

Finally she found remnants of her bra on the floor. Unlike the dress, no time and care had been taken to preserve it from the sharp shears. There was nothing for it but to go back out there and face him—headlights on full. Straightening her shoulders in pure defiance, she stepped out from the small screen.

‘Vivi, hurry up.’ Gia frowned.

She had no intention of hurrying anywhere with them. She still had work to do—thank heavens. ‘Gia, I can’t come with you now. I need to supervise the—’

‘One of the others can do it.’

Oh, she had to be kidding. But Vivi recognised the hard light in Gia’s eyes. The woman might be a genius but she was notoriously difficult when consumed by her latest idea. It seemed inspiration might have struck in the last ten seconds. Vivi kept her tones calm and sensible. ‘All right, but I need to go by the hotel to—’

‘There’s no time for that,’ Gia snapped. ‘I need you with me now.’

No mistaking that tone. While Vivi was used to Gia’s imperious orders, others were often shocked by her supersonic switch to demanding Diva-Of-Them-All. Vivi glanced at Liam and saw the slight tightening around his eyes. But he looked from Gia to her and his momentarily forbidding expression shattered as he turned on a smile.

Vivi turned away and drew breath. Great, so now she got to go to the glamorous after-party in the clothes she’d been wearing all day, without half her underwear, and in the presence of an ex-lover whom she’d never quite got out from under her skin. The one guy in front of whom, if she had to ever see him again, she’d want to look hotter than hot.

Well, doubtless she looked hot—her face felt as flamed as a tomato on a grill. Her frigidly efficient persona had melted and she was mortified. Given the field she worked in, maybe she should be less conservative sartorially, but her attire was part of her armour and at this moment she needed all the steel she could get her hands on. What she really needed was a chastity belt. She wasn’t getting sucked under by the tsunami of sensual power that was Liam. Not again.

A bunch of paps loitered by the limo. Vivi put on her best secretary face and acted as bodyguard for Alannah. She’d long since learned the best way to ensure the photographers didn’t bother taking a picture of her was to look as if she were on a mission and hold a clipboard or something. Tonight she clutched her bag to her chest.

Liam had also stepped ahead of the two stars and now held the car door for them—looking like a much more efficient bodyguard than she as she brought up the rear. Clearly amused, he looked right at her bag as if he knew exactly what it was she was really trying to hide. She got into the limo, painfully aware of him getting a face full of her butt as he waited to get in after her.

He took the seat opposite hers, the one next to Alannah. So she got to watch as he conquered the Unattainable? Okay, she didn’t need the chastity belt, but a paper bag to stick her head in would be really welcome right about now. Because he would succeed where all others had failed. Wasn’t that what Liam was all about? Winning what no one else could.

‘So, what’s so special about this boat you were telling me about?’ Gia picked up on the conversation she’d been having with Liam while Vivi had been bra-hunting behind the screen. ‘Sell it to me.’ She went into bottom-line businesswoman mode.

‘Everything. Sleek lines, luxurious fabric, simple design. You get comfort but elite performance. The speed over the water is unlike anything in its class. I think you’ll find it an exceptionally good fit.’ Liam didn’t do plain business-speak. The way he spoke evoked the sensuality of the design he was discussing. It was obviously still boats for him, then. Still that ‘freedom’ that was so important to him and that he could never find on land. Glancing at Gia, Vivi could see his effect in action. He always spoke with that smile in his voice, with the kind of confidence that had everyone leaning forward and listening.

‘Will you take me out on it?’ Alannah asked with one of her coquettish giggles.

‘I’d love nothing more.’

Goosebumps feathered over Vivi’s hot and cold skin. She was hyper-aware of him sitting so close, but she point blank refused to look at him. She studied the plain fabric of her skirt instead. Once she’d had the freedom to touch him when and how she liked. And she’d liked—too much. But it wasn’t just the possibility of touch making her squirmy; he managed to attack all her other senses too—most especially with that scent.

Vivi wasn’t wearing perfume, nor were Gia or Alannah. The models used nothing to stain the delicate fabrics used, nothing that would interfere with the understated scent in the catwalk salon—Gia’s shows were carefully designed multi-sensory experiences. So that subtle scent in the car wasn’t coming from anyone but Liam.

Musky, masculine, delectable.

Once he’d smelt of sea and sun, even in mid-winter. Now that was masked with a splash of something expensive—and every bit as devastating.

‘I think it could work,’ Gia said. ‘I want to see it. We can go from there.’

Vivi’s muscles screamed with tension. Liam and Gia were working some deal? It was Vivi’s job to have all potential business partners screened by Gia’s financial advisers. She could have had this nixed had she been aware of it. Because no way on this earth did she want to have to work with Liam on anything. She was getting through this car ride and then leaving him and Alannah to it. She just did not want to know.

‘We’re looking at using Liam’s new boat for a one-off fashion shoot.’ Gia coolly confirmed the worst. ‘You arrange it, Vivi.’

Vivi glanced at him, stiffening as she encountered his watchful eyes. He had an annoyingly amused look on his face, as if he suspected how much she didn’t want to arrange it. As if he knew she wanted to tell him to go jump off one of his precious boats. But she didn’t tell him. Instead she pulled on her tough-nut, impervious-to-stress persona.

‘Of course.’ She smiled. What Gia wanted, Vivi did. She was professional and she had no problem working with someone equally professional. She’d calmly navigate these waters with Liam’s own secretary. ‘No doubt you have an assistant I can liaise with, Liam?’

‘Not here,’ he answered with a roguish drawl and a deliberately unapologetic shrug. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to liaise directly with me.’

TWO

The extravagant hotel in Milan had more bouncers roaming the rooms than the fashion magazines had models. There were roped-off areas within roped-off areas—screens protecting the most rich and famous from the merely rich and famous. And, in the central, most holy, V.V.V.V.I.P part of the place stood Liam Wilson.

He didn’t let it go to his head. He was only here because of mystery, reputation and mutual benefit. Because the world’s most sought-after designer was happy to work with him and her pet, the world’s latest ‘It’ model, was happy to use him. He wasn’t afraid of using contacts to get ahead either—not in the professional sense. But this wasn’t just about business. This was personal too.

He’d wanted to catch up with Victoria Rutherford—the woman now named Vivi Grace. He’d known she’d be somewhere behind the scenes at the show tonight but, even so, finally seeing her again had taken him by complete surprise. It was that gloriously sexy, uptight outfit. He’d had to freeze as if it were a game of musical statues to stop from hitting on her as he had five years ago. In less than a second the urge had bitten all over again. Red hot, rampaging lust.

Rot. He gritted his teeth. He did not still find her attractive. It was merely her braless state. Finding real curves in this particular environment was heady stuff. Plus, he’d been single—i.e. sex-starved—these last few months. He’d been working vicious hours. His juices were flowing because he smelt business success in the air... Oh, he could come up with a hundred excuses for the instant rock-hard reaction he’d felt.

B

ut he couldn’t help looking at her. Drinking her in. She had the same beautiful curves—swollen breasts, slim waist, sweet hips. Her white shirt and black skirt were clearly intended to give off the uber-efficient, frigid school-mistress stereotype, but they totally failed. The knee-length skirt simply emphasised the legs on show beneath and made a man itch to slide the hem higher to see the thighs Liam already knew were supple, strong and yet soft. The fabric curved tight over her hips, giving her a slim roundedness that was so much more attractive to him than the bony frame of the supposed supermodel.

On her feet were the instruments of torture that were uniform in this industry—the highest of heels. He’d no idea how she could walk in them but he liked how they brought her face nearer to his. Not quite eye to eye but tantalisingly not far from mouth to mouth. They were a superficial sign of change—so different from the slip-on things she’d worn that winter. Her hair was different too. Gone were the long waves of blonde. In their place was a sharp-edged cut just to her chin. Very French. He’d seen the style a lot. On Victoria it looked good, but so different from the style she’d had those years ago. A veneer of sophistication had replaced sweet innocence. She’d topped off this change with her new name. Vivi.

But none of those changes wiped the image he had of her in his head—with her naked and able only to breathe through the moments beyond climax. The most beautiful woman he’d ever known.

And he’d known plenty in the last five years.

Yet none had left the same impression. None had left this residual irritation—like a barb beneath his skin. None had led to another moment of madness—the one that had brought him here. Liam tried to rein in the energy building in him—the very, very red blood pulsing round his body. Victoria Rutherford.

Too hot to handle. Too hot to last.

For a moment his mind was so fogged with tumultuous memories he couldn’t speak. It could have been an hour ago when she’d been soft, warm, willing and he’d lost himself in her. He’d not meant to get that physical that quick once they’d walked out on everything. But she’d stunned him with her sweetness and he’d been unable to resist. Taking what she’d offered. Stupidly, he’d become more jealous of Oliver than he’d been before. She’d drilled him open until he’d never felt so unsure in his life. He’d asked her stupid, insecure questions, needing to know that what was between them was better. But whatever had brought them together eroded—again more quickly than he’d imagined it could.