Married for the Tycoon's Empire

At least Benjamin Carter had stayed in his seat. The thought of having to say those words to him if he’d uncoiled to his full intimidating height made her throat go dry.

She might—hopefully—have convinced him that he was less interesting than the fungus growing under a rock, but her throbbing pulse told her that he was far from uninteresting to her. And, as successfully as she might have delivered her put-down, that was the real reason why she’d all but run from the hotel, stumbling to a stop outside in the cool autumn air, gulping for breath as if she’d just run a marathon, her heart still pounding.

Thankfully the doorman had hailed her a cab straight away and they were pulling up outside her hotel now. Lia paid and tried not to run into the hotel, feeling irrationally as if a large hand might land on her shoulder at any moment.

The fact that the whole encounter with the construction mogul had veered way out of her control was not something she was going to dwell on. If she had had any tiny doubt that his request to meet her had been entirely innocent, it had been blasted apart by his poker-faced reaction when she’d told him she knew who he was and about his previous encounter with her father. He’d been unapologetic, that incisive gaze reading her reaction like a hawk.

So she was glad she’d gone there and met him. She’d done what she’d set out to do, leaving him in no doubt as to what she thought of any plan he might have to pursue her father.

Or her.

Lia ignored the weirdly hollow feeling in her belly and stepped into a blessedly empty lift. And as for her very unwelcome physical reaction...? The way she still felt jittery, as if her skin was too tight, too hot...? That was just the lingering after-effects of adrenalin.

A sense of futility rose up inside her, a hint of remembered humiliation. After all, she was frigid, wasn’t she? She’d been told that in no uncertain language by the only man she’d ever slept with. And she had the memories of how her body had failed miserably to respond to his lovemaking to back it up. So he must be right.

The lift doors opened and Lia stepped out into the plushly carpeted corridor. As she let herself into her room she ruthlessly pushed down a very alien sense of something that felt awfully like...yearning.

* * *

Ben was back in his vast loft-style apartment a short time later. Sirens pierced the air from far below in the vibrant Meatpacking District, but he was oblivious. Pacing the floor. He’d taken off his jacket and tie, feeling constricted. His head was still full of Julianna Ford, and her cooler than cool aristocratic beauty. The memory of that haughty accent and the way she’d so icily dismissed him made him want to see her come undone, hear her voice hoarse from screaming his name.

Dammit. Since when had he grown such an active imagination?

But something else niggled at him—her hostility, and her immediate leaping to the conclusion that his motivation to date her had something to do with her father. Ben’s conscience niggled, but he pushed it down—he hadn’t tried to pretend to Julianna that he was unaware of who she was. He just hadn’t mentioned it up front.

He thought again of how absent her father had been from view in the last few months and Julianna Ford’s actions took on a much more intriguing light. She’d been...protective—and why would she feel the need to be protective unless her father was ill...weak?

Just then his phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out, scowling when he saw the name Elizabeth Young on the screen.

When he answered she spoke straight away, sounding disapproving, ‘I don’t know what happened between you and Julianna Ford but she’s instructed me that she doesn’t want to meet with you again and to take her profile out of my portfolio.’

That made Ben feel simultaneously annoyed at the confirmation that she didn’t want to see him again, and pleased that she obviously wasn’t eager for a date with any other man. Also, it confirmed his suspicion that she had something to hide...some vulnerability. Because she perceived him to be a threat.

The unmistakable instinct to take up a challenge coursed through his blood. ‘It’s unfortunate that the date didn’t go well, but I’ll take it from here.’

Elizabeth Young was sharp. ‘This is not how I conduct my business, Mr Carter. You can’t pursue her if she’s specifically requested not to see you again.’

Irritation prickled at this reiteration that she didn’t want to see him again—and at the implication that anyone could tell him what to do. But Ben realised that he couldn’t afford to alienate this woman. She was the key to all their futures. Except right now he was determined to take his future into his own hands.

‘You can rest assured, Miss Young. I won’t pursue her again through your agency.’

There was silence for a moment, and then Elizabeth Young said, ‘Thank you. If and when you’re ready to date again we can set up another appointment. But, Mr Carter, I have to warn you that I won’t tolerate anyone alienating my clientele.’

Once again Ben had to admit to a grudging sense of respect for the straight-talking matchmaker. Intimidated by powerful men she obviously was not. He said, ‘Julianna Ford and I had a clash of personality—that’s all. It happens from time to time. If I need you again I’ll call you. Goodbye, Miss Young.’

Ben terminated the call, filled with resolve. A clash of personality it might have been, between him and the lustrous dark-haired British beauty, but electricity had sizzled between them, no matter how icy her demeanour. He knew Julianna Ford was here for a charity function, and New York could be a surprisingly small place when you moved in certain circles. If they happened to meet again it wouldn’t be via Elizabeth Young, as he’d assured her.

Ben made a call on his phone, issuing curt instructions to his assistant on the other end. He told himself that the spiking of anticipation in his blood had more to do with the fact that Julianna Ford represented a chance to

achieve his public and professional redemption and less to do with the fact that she’d intrigued the hell out of him with her frosty attitude—or the fact that he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman.

CHAPTER TWO

THE FOLLOWING EVENING Lia surveyed herself critically in the full-length mirror of her hotel suite. The long evening dress was far more revealing than she liked, with its sleeveless plunging neckline and thigh-high slit, and also, if that wasn’t enough, the vibrant blood-red colour.

But, as much as she squirmed to show so much flesh, she knew that it would be effective as a means of deflecting attention from the fact that her father was conspicuous by his absence at the charity auction he’d been due to attend in one of Manhattan’s glitziest hotels.

She was also due to attend on her own behalf, because the charity—which helped crisis-stricken regions to begin rebuilding—was close to her heart.