The Morning After

‘What—?’ Annie began to laugh. She couldn’t help it; the whole thing was getting so ridiculous that she was truly beginning to believe that she must be stuck in some real-as-life nightmare—one of those where nothing made any sense!

‘Oh, not in the physical sense of the word,’ he inserted coolly into her laughter, ‘since we have already established that I have no wish to go where too many men have been before me.’

‘Have we?’ Her blue eyes mocked him. He lifted his chin and ignored the silent taunt.

‘It is, therefore, simple logic to assume that I mean to create the illusion of intimacy—solely for the minds of others.’

‘And I’m supposed to meekly go along with all of this, am I?’ she murmured with rueful scorn.

Funnily enough, instead of getting angry with her again, he grimaced. ‘No,’ he conceded. ‘Not meekly, I do acknowledge. But I fail to see what you can do about it since this is my island, and the only form of transport off it is in my helicopter. And,’ he continued while Annie grimly took all of that in, ‘considering I hold the very success of Hanson’s launch into Europe in the palm of my hand, I think I can—persuade you to do exactly what I want you to do. If only for Hanson’s sake,’ he added carefully.

Annie’s spine straightened slowly, her attention well and truly fixed now. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ she demanded.

‘Exactly what it said.’ He rid himself of his glass then shoved his hands into the pockets of his lightweight trousers. The action drew her eyes unwillingly downwards to that place where the evidence of his arousal had been so obviously on show.

Not so now. The man was back in control of his body, his stance supremely relaxed. ‘As I suppose you must already know, Hanson has overstretched his resources going into Europe,’ he went on smoothly. ‘He is in dire need of a world exclusive to get his new magazine off the ground. Convincing me to let him publish my new collection is undoubtedly that world exclusive. Using your body to display that collection means he cannot fail. And indeed,’ he went on while Annie stood taking it all in, ‘I have no wish for him to fail. It would not suit my cousin, you see, for the man she loves to be a failure,’ he pointed out. ‘But,’ he then warned chillingly, ‘I am prepared to have him fail if you are not prepared to do exactly what I say.’

The bottom line, Annie recognised as he fell into a meaningful silence. They had just reached the bottom line—as far as any protest from her went anyway. Because from the moment he said he was able to hurt Todd she had been beaten. She would do anything for Todd. Lay down her life for Todd.

Prostitute herself for Todd.

‘Tell me exactly what you want me to do,’ she said huskily, and at last gave him his victory over her spirit by letting her shoulders wilt in defeat.

Oddly, rather than pleasing him it seemed to have the opposite effect, tightening his mouth and putting an impatient glint into his strange green eyes.

‘Look,’ he exhaled irritably, ‘why don’t you avail yourself of some of that coffee? You are obviously jet lagged and no doubt dehydrated. Please…’ He waved a hand towards the trolley, but when she still just stood there, looking like a slowly wilting flower, another sigh rasped from him and he came to grasp her arm, guiding her to one of the chairs and pushing her roughly into it.

Annie glanced at the hand on her arm, long-fingered and beautifully sculptured, then at his face, darkly intense and intimidatingly grim, and shivered, realising just how accurate her first impression of this man had been. Danger, her instincts had warned her. Danger—hard with resolve.

Dangerous on several levels, she acknowledged as her senses quivered beneath his touch. Then, as she let her tense body relax into the chair, she was filled with a sudden aching kind of sadness. For the first time in her adult life she had come upon a man whom she did not feel an instant physical revulsion for, and he wanted only to do her harm.

Lifting her hand, she began rubbing at her brow with weary fingers. Her head was beginning to ache, the long hours of travelling only to be faced with all of…this beginning to take their toll.

A minute later a cup of strong coffee was placed into her hand, then he stood over her, with those piercing eyes probing her pale face while she sipped at the strong, sweet drink.

‘Please explain the rest,’ she requested, once the drink had managed to warm a small part of her numbed body.

He looked ready to refuse, an oddly ferocious look tightening his lean face. Then, on a short sigh, he turned away. ‘Hanson will get his exclusive for his magazine,’ he assured her. ‘Only—’ he turned back to face her ‘—it won’t be you wearing the Adamas collection, it will be Susie—after Hanson has begged me to allow her to take your place, of course, when you don’t turn up in time for his deadline because you have disappeared with your lover.’

‘You, I suppose.’ Her smile was twisted with contempt.

‘Of course.’ He gave an arrogant half-nod of his dark head. ‘It has to be convincing, after all. The man may have overstretched his resources in this economic climate, but he is no fool. He knows you well enough to suspect anything less than your assurance that the love of a very rich man has brought this decision on you.’

He paused, waiting for her to put up a protest or at least show some horrified response to his demands. But when she revealed nothing—nothing whatsoever—his frown came back, the first hint of puzzlement showing on his rock-solid, certain face.

‘You understand what I am demanding of you?’ he questioned. ‘I am demanding that you cut yourself completely free of Hanson—both professionally and personally. No contact,’ he made clear. ‘Nothing. He loves my cousin, but he suffers an incurable lust for you. You cannot be allowed to go on ruining lives simply because that body of yours drives men insane!’

And whose fault is that? she wondered cynically. Mine for projecting exactly what they want to see? Or theirs for being such pathetic slaves to their wretched libidos?

She glanced at him from beneath her lashes, wondering curiously if this man had ever been a slave to his libido. And decided not. He was Adamas—the rock, the invincible one! And just too damned proud to let himself become a slave to anything—except his family, maybe.

And there, she realised suddenly, was his weakness! Hers was Todd and always would be Todd. His was his pride and abiding love for his family.

‘You know…’ she murmured thoughtfully, a small seed of an idea beginning to develop in her mind. If it worked—if she could swing it—there was a small chance that she could get herself out of this relatively unscathed. ‘You’ve forgotten one rather obvious thing in all your careful planning,’ she said. ‘If, by your reckoning, I’ve had Todd at my beck and call for the last four years, despite the countless other men he knows have been falling in and out of my bed—then he isn’t going to give up on me just because you’ve come along.’

That deep sense of personal pride took the shape of haughty arrogance on his face. ‘He will if I insist upon it,’ he said.

‘Enough to make him turn to Susie for comfort?’ she charged. ‘Enough to make him thrust me from his mind? I’m sorry—’ ruefully she shook her head ‘—but it won’t happen. Todd loves me, you see,’ she stated with a soft and sincere certainty. ‘Loves me from the heart not the body. Or why else do you think he keeps coming back to me no matter what goes on in my life?