Millionaire's Woman

He’d suggested a weekend in Paris to celebrate the engagement, declaring he knew the most perfect little jeweller’s shop there where she could choose her ring. She’d said yes—who wouldn’t? Of course she’d known that ‘celebrating’ would probably mean more than the limited love-making she’d allowed so far, but they were going to be married…

Why she had called unannounced at the advertising agency William owned the night before they were due to leave for Paris, she didn’t really know. She had been visiting a problem family in Soho, and rather than go straight home she’d decided to stroll the mile or so to the agency in Mayfair. With hindsight it had been the worst—and the best—thing she could have done.

Nearly everyone had left by the time she got there, but after assuring William’s secretary—whom she’d met at the door—that she’d surprise him, she had made her way to his office on the top floor of the building. And she’d surprised him all right, as well as the partially clothed blonde he had been writhing with on the couch.

The scene which had followed had been ugly. He’d accused her of being frigid, an emotional cripple and plenty more besides in an effort to justify himself. She had walked out and had never seen him again from that day to this. A very messy end to an affair which never should have started in the first place.

Cory sighed, turning over in bed and hammering at her pillow, which felt as if it was packed with rocks. She had to get some sleep; she’d look like a wet rag in the morning. She began the technique she’d perfected in the months after William’s betrayal, relaxing all her muscles, one by one, from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head.

Half an hour later she was as wide awake as ever, but this time it was Nick Morgan who was featuring on the screen in her mind.

She must have drifted off at some point after it became light, because when the alarm woke her at nine o’clock she was in the middle of a particularly erotic dream which made her blush to think about it.

How could she imagine such antics with a man she’d only met the day before? she asked herself in the shower. She could still feel the electricity racing through her veins which she’d experienced in the dream when Nick had touched and tasted her, and the heat in her body was nothing to do with the warm water cascading down on her. Crazy. She turned the dial to cold. It didn’t help much.

He was early—fifteen minutes early—but as Cory had spent the last two hours agonising over what to wear, she was ready. Her bedroom looked like a bomb had hit it and almost every single item of clothing she possessed was on the bed or floor, but Nick wasn’t going to go in that particular room so it didn’t matter. She closed the door firmly. In fact she’d made up her mind he wasn’t going to set foot in the flat let alone her bedroom. This lunch was going to be the end of the road. Just the state she’d got in over what to wear had convinced her of that.

After William she hadn’t had a date for some time, but when she’d felt ready to go into the arena again she had made sure any hopeful suitors understood pretty quickly that what she had to offer was limited. Fun, friendship, the odd kiss and cuddle but nothing heavy. She had no intention of letting a man into her life, her mind or her body. She needed to be in control of any relationship from the beginning, and she ended things immediately if any man couldn’t keep to the rules of engagement.

She didn’t want to suffer pain again. As she pressed the intercom and told him she would be straight down, Cory’s mouth was tight. Her parents had been unable to love her as parents normally did and William had just reaffirmed that there must be something lacking in her. Something which caused people not to want her like she wanted them. So she’d concentrate on her work, on making a difference in an area where she was needed. And that would suffice. It would, because it had to.

She hadn’t opened the front door of the building for him this time, so when she stepped out into the hot Ju

ne day Nick was leaning against a snazzy little black sports car parked across the road. He looked…disturbing. His pale blue shirt was tucked into the flat waistband of his trousers and was unbuttoned just enough at the neck to show the beginning of the soft black hair on his chest.

Narrow-waisted and lean-hipped, he had a flagrant masculinity that was impossible to ignore. It was intimidating, and that made her annoyed because she didn’t want to feel intimidated. It put her at a disadvantage even though he couldn’t know how she felt.

‘Hi.’ He walked towards her, his thickly lashed blue eyes appreciative as they took in the pale rose jeans and bubble gum pink flounced strapless top she was wearing. She had left her hair loose today, wearing only a touch of mascara and lip gloss, the wide silver hoops in her ears completing the picture of casual elegance for a hot summer’s day. She had been determined not to dress up too much and by the same token wore the minimum of make-up; she hadn’t wanted him to think she was making an effort—even if it had taken over two hours to decide on her look.

‘Hello.’ She knew her cheeks matched her top but she couldn’t do a thing about it.

‘I’m glad you decided to come,’ he said softly.

Decided to come? She’d been railroaded by an expert and he knew it. She sucked in a shaky breath but her voice was surprisingly firm when she said, ‘The way I remember it, I had little choice?’

‘Ouch.’ He pretended to wince. ‘You were supposed to say, preferably with a sweet smile, that you were glad I’d asked you, that you’ve been looking forward to it, something like that.’

‘Really?’ She provided the sweet smile. ‘But I don’t lie very well.’

He grinned at her, apparently totally unabashed. ‘Then I’ll just have to work hard today to make sure you’re looking forward to our next date, won’t I?’

No way, no how. If ever she’d needed proof she’d inadvertently caught a tiger by the tail, it was in that grin. The word charm had obviously been invented with Nick Morgan in mind. She tried very hard to ignore her racing heart. ‘Surely your model—Miranda, isn’t it?—is back from the States soon?’

They had just reached the car and he brought her round to face him with both hands on her shoulders. He gave her a hard look. ‘One, Miranda isn’t my anything. Two, I’ve no idea when she returns because she’s not obliged to report her whereabouts to me. Three…’ His frown changed to a quizzical ruffle. ‘Three, have you any idea what the feel of your bare shoulders is doing to me?’

Possibly. His shirt was thin and the dark shadow beneath it suggested his powerful chest was thickly covered with hair.

Cory took the coward’s way out. ‘No Mercedes today?’ she said brightly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight croakiness to her voice as she turned and pretended an interest in the car. ‘Is this yours too?’

‘Weekend runabout.’ He opened the passenger door. ‘Purely to impress my legion of women, of course.’

She decided to ignore the sarcasm. After sliding into the car, which gave the sensation that one was sitting at a level with the road, she straightened her back and folded her hands in her lap so she wouldn’t make the mistake of bunching them again and betraying her tenseness as she’d done the night before.

When Nick joined her, it took all of Cory’s control to maintain the pose. The close confines within the car was the ultimate in travelling intimacy and wildly seductive.

As he started the engine she glanced at him. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked with careful steadiness.

‘Surprise.’