Innocent in His Diamonds (4 page)

‘What
do
you feel?'

‘You don't want to know,' he muttered thickly.

‘Maybe I do. Maybe for once I want to hear you vocalise what you actually feel, Bastien.'

He closed his eyes for a split second.
‘Mon Dieu...'

She rose on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his, the need a wild clamour that wouldn't be stopped. His hands clamped on her immediately. One at her waist, the other in her hair. He held her prisoner and deepened the kiss, his groan a rough, hungry sound. He branded her with his mouth and his hands and she willingly gave him complete access.

It might have been seconds or minutes later that she found herself on her back on a lounger, his head between her bared breasts, her swimsuit bunched somewhere around her waist. Her hoarse cry when his fingers slid beneath her suit to tease her wet heat made him raise his head. His eyes were molten with intense need.

‘You want to know how I feel? Right now I want to take you, possess you, make you forget every other man who has come before me.'

‘Why?'

‘Because you've been under my skin since the first time I saw you. A precocious kid who wouldn't take no for an answer. You watched me with those soulful eyes and dogged my every step until I couldn't move without you tripping me up. You're
still
under my skin. Everywhere I look you're on a billboard or on the side of a bus. Except now you make me ache—make me crave things I do not want to crave.'

‘And you hate me for that?'

His smile made her breath catch.

‘I hate that you have a certain...power over me. I cannot allow that.' His fingers moved and his mouth closed over her nipple.

She shuddered as his imposing erection pressed deeper into her belly. ‘So...what? You're going to use your position to bring me to heel? Or are you going to use sex?'

A part of her couldn't deny the thought excited her, but another part recoiled from the idea.

He froze and locked eyes with her. A frown slowly creased his brow, then his gaze drifted over her semi-nude body. He swallowed and shook his head, as if divesting himself from the clutches of a bad dream.

He started to rise but she locked her fingers behind his head.

‘Bastien...' She wasn't sure what she wanted to say but she hated the look in his eyes.

He firmly disentangled himself from her and stood. ‘I'm ashamed to admit that was my intention.' He shoved a hand through his hair. ‘What did you say—sex sells? How very right you are.'

The delivery was cold. And although most of the censure in his voice was directed at himself, a healthy dose spilled her way.

Rushing to rise and right her clothes, she felt fury cut through her lust haze. ‘You can't fire me for doing my job, Bastien!'

He turned away, as if he couldn't bear to look at her. ‘No, but I
will
keep a close eye on you from now on.'

‘Go ahead. And be sure to send me a thank-you bonus when your sales go through the roof.' Burning at the thought of that day, Ana glared at Bastien. ‘So things got out of hand before we could stop ourselves? That's what you get for being so vile!'

He stared back for several seconds, then shrugged. ‘Let's blame my unexpected discovery of just who it was my marketing people had chosen for my campaign.'

She frowned. ‘You mean you didn't know?'

‘I'm not in the habit of micromanaging my businesses. You, on the other hand,
knew
who you would be working for. Why did you take the assignment?'

‘Because I foolishly hoped the past could remain in the past.' She locked eyes with him, saw the stormy emotions swirling in his grey eyes. ‘Surely you can't blame
me
for what happened sixteen years ago?'

She hated herself for caring enough to want to know, but the idea that they would be locked in that volatile winter for ever made her heart lurch sickeningly.

For several seconds he said nothing. Then, ‘No, but it doesn't make the reminder of that time any less palatable.'

His response dashed the tiny burgeoning hope she'd harboured.

‘So you're saying you'll never look at me and not remember what happened then?

‘Non.'

An icy numbness settled over her. ‘Well, I guess that's definitive enough. Oh, and for what it's worth, I never set out to use my body to convince you to let me keep my job. What happened...just happened.'

‘A lot of things “just happen” with you around, I'm discovering.'

Anger washed away the numbness. ‘Oh, screw you, Bastien,' she flung at him, then flushed from head to toe at her unfortunate choice of words.

He laughed—the sound as unexpected as it was pleasing. She gave in to a reluctant smile and breathed easier.

* * *

‘I asked for your suitcase to be delivered to the cabin. Perhaps you'd like to change once we reach cruising altitude?' he suggested, bringing her back to the present.

His consideration made her soften. Nodding, she relaxed her taut muscles a fraction—only to tense again as her bare leg rubbed against his calf. Heat dragged low in her belly and a familiar tingling shot to the apex of her thighs.

Clamping her legs tightly together, she muttered, ‘Thank you.' The quicker she was out of his presence, out of this dress and back in the comfort of jeans and a top, the better she'd feel.

Grabbing a magazine from the nearby stack, she flipped blindly through the glossy pages.

‘There's also a shower if you wish to make use of it.'

She froze, refusing to think of Bastien naked, wet or otherwise. But a persistent image took root, imprinted itself on her brain and sent her heart-rate soaring.

His added, ‘It's not large, but it'll do,' caused her hand to tremble so badly she dropped the magazine.

What on earth was wrong with her?

She darted a glance at him to see if he'd witnessed her discomfort. His nostrils were pinched, his jaw clenched, his eyes a shade that reminded her of how he looked when he was aroused.

She tried to look away. His gaze held her prisoner. Images of him underneath a shower, naked, flooded her mind. Ripples of desire surged through her abdomen, radiated outwards until her limbs felt weak, leaden.

Slowly his eyes swirled with heat, like the smoke from a rumbling volcano just before it erupted. She didn't have much experience when it came to men, but an unavoidable by-product of her profession was learning very quickly to interpret lust.

Bastien's eyes reflected a danger that would consume her given half a chance. Her breath locked; that secret, swollen place between her legs throbbed harder.

His gaze dropped to her exposed thighs and lingered for endless seconds, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Heat continued to drag through her. Unable to stay still, she slowly crossed her legs.

Bastien followed the movement, his eyes roving over her until she wanted to scream...scream something at him.

The loud ‘ding' signalling the seatbelts sign being turned off jerked her out of the dangerous quicksand. A moment later the stewardess pushed back the curtain and stepped into the cabin.

Dazed, Ana watched Bastien's eyelids sweep down, veil his expression. Pressing a button in the wall, he pulled out a laptop and slid it open.

She envied his steely control, wished she could harvest a tiny fraction of it and not feel as if the maelstrom of sensations buffeting her body would rip her in two.

The stewardess set down a tray of drinks. Before she could serve them, Bastien said, ‘Mathilde, please show Miss Duval to the bedroom.' His voice too was smooth as silk.

‘Of course.'

‘We'll eat when you return,' he said, without looking up from his papers.

Ana struggled to her feet, irritated and more than a little bit confused.

The last thing she needed was to develop any feelings for Bastien. But for the life of her she couldn't seem to draw on the composed, unruffled demeanour she usually projected for the camera.

The thought scared her more than she cared to admit. Was Bastien right? Would they never be able to be in each other's presence without the past rearing its dangerous head? And would this insane attraction eventually whizz itself out of control? Or would it grow stronger, like a tornado, devouring everything in its path?

She summoned a smile when Mathilde indicated the cabin door to her left.

In a large mahogany-panelled bedroom, Ana found herself alone for the first time since being taken from her cell that morning. She froze when she realised she hadn't even thought of her predicament for the last hour.

Her hands trembled as she grappled with the realisation that Bastien, despite his high-handed and autocratic attitude, made her feel...
safe
.

It was the same feeling that had compelled her to continually seek him out at his parents' house sixteen years ago—had made her ignore his
keep out
demeanour.

Never mind the excitement bubbling underneath her skin, the heat scouring her abdomen in that dangerous, delicious manner whenever she was close to him, her underlying feeling with Bastien was that he would never deliberately hurt her.

Which was completely irrational, of course.

Hoping that time away from his unsettling presence would restore her equilibrium. along with her common sense, she shed the offensive silk dress and entered the bathroom.

What it lacked in space it made up for in opulence and accessories. Cosmetics designed for both sexes adorned the shelf space. For a charged, insane moment her mind conjured up Bastien sharing this bedroom with a lover, showering with her in this bathroom.

With a hiss of impatience she stripped off her panties and stepped beneath the warm spray. What Bastien did with his lovers was nothing to do with her.

Soaping her body, she washed quickly, resolutely refusing to think about the man who could flip her world upside down with minimal effort and thinking instead of who had gone to such lengths to frame her.

For a wild moment Ana wondered if her mother had been behind the frame-up. But that didn't make sense. Lily Duval would never mess with the source of her income. Getting Ana thrown off the DBH campaign would attract the sort of scandal her mother craved, but even
she
wouldn't bite the hand that fed her.

Which meant there were no other suspects in the frame.

Sighing, Ana turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. Padding to the bedroom, she unzipped her suitcase...

And flicked through the packed clothes with growing horror.

The jeans, cotton tops and wool-blend sweaters she'd expected were nowhere in sight. Instead she pulled out the skimpy outfits from her last fashion show, saucy lingerie from a recent underwear shoot and silk, lace, sheer chiffon see-through wisps of nothing that made up the theme of this year's spring/summer collection.

Sinking onto the bed, Ana crushed a silk bra in her fist.

It didn't take a genius to work out that Simone, believing Ana was embarking on a torrid love affair, had packed clothes fit for a woman out to drive her lover crazy with lust.

She choked off a feverish bubble of laughter and dug through her case with renewed vigour, a cry of relief escaping when she grasped what felt like denim.

Pulling it out, her spirits sank lower. The material of the jeans was slashed in so many suggestive places it was downright indecent. She'd modelled them two weeks ago, on a shoot for an up-and-coming designer. Once on, they would cling like a second skin, the stretchy material revealing even more flesh.

Another frenzied search produced a soft cashmere sweater. The batwing design covered her arms, although it left her with an exposed cleavage and back, and its dramatic style made wearing a bra nonsensical. Not great, but at least it covered her midriff.

Curbing a growl of frustration, she passed a brush through her hair, trying not to look into the floor-length mirror next to the bathroom door as she did so.

She gathered her hair on top of her head and pinned it in place. Bastien already thought she used her body to achieve her own ends. His opinion of her couldn't sink any lower. Besides, she'd endured worse looks from men in the past.

But none of them made your pulse hammer so hard, or made you aware of every erratic breath you took.

Pursing her lips, she grasped the door handle and opened it.

Bastien's huge frame filled the doorway.

‘Are you stalking me?' she snapped.

His mouth quirked. ‘I was beginning to wonder whether you'd launched yourself out of the nearest air lock.' His penetrating gaze captured hers and something throbbed to life in her chest.

‘The idea was tempting, but the thought of food won against the need to escape.' Her stomach rumbled in agreement and she grimaced.

‘Then by all means come, let's satisfy your hunger...' he drawled mockingly—then froze, his gaze fixed over her shoulder.

Cringing, Ana glanced back at the clothes strewn on the bed.

She rushed to the bed and lunged for the clothes. Only to stop when his suppressed hiss made her head jerk around. His eyes were riveted on her behind, his laser gaze burning right through the wide slash in the jeans exposing half her bottom.

‘When I suggested presentable clothes, this wasn't what I had in mind,' he rapped out, his face taut with more than a hint of wild hunger.

Roiling emotions jerked through her. ‘This wasn't what I had in mind, either. But that's what you get for not giving me a chance to pack my own clothes.'

Crossing his arms over his chest, he rested one muscled shoulder against the doorjamb. ‘So this is
my
fault? Don't get me wrong—I'm not complaining at the view. Merely thinking that January in Geneva isn't the time to be exposing acres of flesh, delectable though it might be.'

‘Well, until I can buy myself a coat you'll just have to avert your eyes. Or is that
really
the problem?' she challenged, then kicked herself at poking the dragon.