Innocent in His Diamonds (7 page)

‘Or what, Bastien? You'll punish me for getting under your skin again?' The words slipped out before she could stop them.

With lightning speed he had her caged against the back wall of the lift. His mouth crushed hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth before she could draw half a breath. Molten heat scalded her from head to toe, sending a rush of sensation so heady she groaned with the sheer pleasure of it.

The sound seemed to galvanise Bastien. His hands bracketed her, his powerful body imprisoning her. From chest to knee, every muscle of his hard, streamlined physique was imprinted against hers as he devoured her lips.

When his tongue slid boldly against hers liquid fire shot through her bloodstream to pool low in her pelvis. The sensation was alien, but so exquisitely delightful that Ana whimpered. Again, the sound triggered something in Bastien.

He surged closer, rolled his hips until the unmistakable force of his arousal lay hot and heavy against her belly. A wave of longing stole over her, sparking a yearning to reach for him, to touch him in a way that would appease the stark hunger.

His strong jaw abraded her palm. Glorying in the new and exciting textures, she traced her fingers to his nape, slid her fingers through his hair once more. She didn't know she'd applied pressure until the kiss deepened, their tongues tangling in a frenzied dance that culminated in desperate gasps for air.

Bastien stared down at her, shock darkening his eyes. ‘
Mon Dieu
, how the hell do you do this to me?' he demanded thickly under his breath.

The guttural sound of his voice shivered along her nerves, tightening the pressure in her womb and turning her nipples into hard, painful buds of need. Need that demanded satisfaction.
Now
.

This time she rose to her toes of her own accord, her need to experience the power of his kiss paramount. Bastien reached for her—

‘Excusez moi, monsieur?'

The voice was cheeky, almost amused.

Bastien's harsh exhalation fanned her heated cheek. He stepped back, but didn't release her. Over one broad shoulder Ana saw a statuesque redhead in the open doorway of the lift, peering at them over boxy designer glasses.

‘Tatiana, give me a minute,' he rasped.

‘
Mais oui
, Bastien. But I suggest that you don't keep the board waiting any longer.'

Her heavily accented response held even more amusement. With a twirl that wouldn't have been misplaced on a catwalk, she disappeared down the hall, leaving behind a cloud of expensive perfume.

He dropped his hands. The loss of his touch sent a cold shiver through Ana, but not quite enough to restore clarity. Mind fuzzy, she remained where she was, shaky, eternally grateful for the support of the wall.

And totally convinced she'd lost her mind.

How could she have kissed him like that? Have lost herself so spectacularly? And so publicly! Shame drenched her, finally erasing the last dregs of her rioting emotions.

But a niggling voice remained.

What if they hadn't been interrupted? Would she have lifted her leg and curved it over his hip the way he'd urged her to do on his boat? Would she have encouraged him to cup her aching breasts because Bastien touching them ranked among the most beautiful feelings in the whole world?

Dear God, no!

‘You promised me this would never happen again.' Her voice held all the husky undercurrents of the emotions shimmering beneath her skin and none of the accusation she'd intended to heap on his head.

His eyes mocked her. ‘No, I never made such a promise. And you decided not to wait for that gold-embossed invitation after all. You issued one of your own. I merely accepted,' he rasped.

‘I did no such thing. You're truly despic—'

‘Much as I'd like to stand here trading insults with you all day, I have a meeting to attend.' Grasping her elbow, he stepped out of the lift, took a short hallway until they reached a set of double doors. ‘Through there is my office. Tatiana will make you comfortable and let you know if you're needed.'

Without a backward glance, he walked away.

Ana didn't know whether to be relieved or angry. Taking a deep breath, she opted for relief. Anger led to a loss of control. Loss of control led to hot, torrid exchanges of intense kisses that left her weak and needy.

Yes, relief was a much better emotion to hang on to.

She entered the office, where Tatiana sat behind an exquisite antique desk. Calling on her much-practised poise, Ana approached.

‘I don't think we were introduced properly. I'm Ana Duval.'

‘Tatiana—Bastien's slave,' the other woman joked. She indicated another set of doors. ‘There's a sitting room through there. I'll bring coffee in a moment. But perhaps you'd prefer to use the facilities to...to freshen up a little?'

Ana followed Tatiana's gaze. Her coat had come undone, along with several buttons of her top, and she could feel her carefully pinned-up hair sliding loosely against her nape.

With as much dignity as she could muster she smiled. ‘Thank you.'

In the privacy of the bathroom she let out a shaky breath and gazed with horror at her dishevelled state. The cream silk top she'd tucked into her skirt had come untucked, its material crumpled where Bastien's body had crushed hers. Luckily her suit had sustained less damage. Fingers trembling, Ana tried to repair her attire as best she could.

Renewed shame seared her. Her lips were red and swollen, her lip-gloss long gone. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes reflected an untamed look that made her gaze slither away in disgust.

Once again she'd let herself down. And this time she couldn't pretend that she hadn't wanted it to happen. Her fingers tingled from where she'd willingly grasped Bastien's nape and invited a deeper kiss.

It could never happen again.

She splashed cold water over her hands. She'd survived childhood with a mother who'd been bent on cruelty and humiliation at every stage. She'd grown up without the fundamental learning tools every child was entitled to and had still made a success of her life.

Surely she could overcome the raw temptation that was Bastien Heidecker?

It would never happen again.

Satisfied with that affirmation, she tugged her jacket back into place and returned to the sitting room with her head held high.

* * *

Bastien answered another inconsequential question, his frustration mounting as the subject of the DBH campaign was once again avoided by his chairman, Claude Delon. He curbed his need to glance to the left side of the room, where Ana had taken a seat five minutes ago. His fellow board members weren't as circumspect in hiding their interest.

He couldn't blame Delon for his volcanic mood. No, it was what had happened in the lift that roiled in his blood. His jaw tightened. He'd lost control. Again. He'd allowed her to goad him until the only sensible response had been to shut her up in the most ruthless way possible.

But even as the glaring error of that course of action taunted him he admitted how good shutting her up had felt. Her lips, soft but firm, had fought against his attempts to dominate, her tongue duelling with his in a curious mixture of defiance and innocence before yielding, kissing him back in a most pleasurable way.

How her soft moans had echoed like thunder through his veins... And the supple imprint of her body, the bones of her hips cradling his pelvis as if made to fit...

He slammed his open palm on the table, cheap satisfaction coursing through him when seven pairs of eyes jerked from Ana to him.

‘We voted on the acquisition of the copper mine two days ago, so why are we discussing it again? In fact everything on the agenda has been covered except one item. Some of you might have nothing better than a round of golf planned after this meeting, but I have work to do.'

‘You sound a little...stressed, Bastien. Perhaps the events of the last few days have taken their toll?' Delon suggested.

‘The state of my health isn't up for discussion. Are you ready to vote?'

The older man spread his hands wide. ‘We discussed this while we were waiting for you to arrive. After reading this morning's papers, we don't see the need to discuss this any further.'

He sensed Ana tense but refused to look her way. Since she'd walked in, chin high, her stride confident and sexy, she'd commanded too much attention. Witnessing the keen interest in more than one board member's expression, he'd felt something dark, dangerous and agonisingly twisted course through his veins.

Her clothes, although respectable—demure, even, compared to her previous attire—didn't mask Ana's raw sexuality.

Bastien's fist clenched against the throbbing in his groin and he curbed the impulse to snarl at the wily old chairman. One error of judgement was enough for one day.

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘It means that ultimately the story and the photo, while we wouldn't normally like to draw that sort of attention to the company, was a stroke of genius. I assume that you've seen the surge in share price this morning?'

Bastien's mood blackened even more. ‘Of course I have—but I find it preposterous that you would attribute the surge to a picture in the tabloids.'

‘You underestimate the power of the media,' Claude replied, his eyes flicking to Ana. ‘Perhaps as much as you underestimate the power of a
liaison romantique
.'

Ana made a strange little sound—a cross between a snort and a cough. He finally looked her way, slicing her a look that straightened the amused curve of her mouth. When she lifted a brow in silent challenge he ground his teeth, cursing the memory of her seductive warmth pressed against him, the subtle thrust of her tongue against his, which was pulling him from reality.

What was wrong with him?

He knew how lethal she was to his control and yet he couldn't stop his body from reacting like a randy sailor on shore leave.

Turning his head, he concentrated on the old man. ‘You must be going blind, Claude. There is no such—'

Ana spoke up. ‘Bastien, I think what your chairman is trying to say is don't look a gift horse in the mouth.'

A smattering of amusement rolled around the conference room.

‘If the picture is helping the DBH range to thrive, despite the hit it took yesterday, surely that can't be a bad thing?' she went on.

‘
Précisément
. Women across the globe are reading the newspaper this morning, sighing over the picture and wishing they were in Mademoiselle Duval's shoes. That's already translating to a surge in profits. If you ask me, your little courthouse adventure was quite ingenious. Perhaps we should make Ana an honorary member of the board.'

Bastien's gaze slid back to her and he saw a wide smile spread across her face. Every male breath in the room had caught at the incredible sight.

His teeth ground harder. ‘Perhaps you're forgetting the small matter of your trial?'

Her smile dimmed and her throat moved in a delicate swallow. Her eyes blazed as they locked on his, a determined fire lighting their depths. ‘I'm quite confident I'll be proved innocent by the time the trial rolls around.'

‘Don't make promises you may not be able to keep, Miss Duval.'

‘I'm seriously committed to finding out the truth behind what happened and to making your campaign a success. If I fail you can do with me what you will,' she replied, a tinge of anger in her voice.

His gaze dropped to the soft pout of her mouth and another rush of heat speared through him. For a single moment he hated himself for wanting her to fail just so he could bend her to his will, take what she'd unwittingly offered.

But then the thought of Ana behind bars, locked away from the world, slid through his mind. Something tightened in his chest, growing stronger as a memory long buried surfaced out of nowhere. It pierced so deep his breath faltered.

Ana—eight years old, running down the steps at Verbier to show him something. She'd always been doing that...plucking random things from the house or the garden to show him, unwilling to accept that he just wanted to be left alone.

Alone to deal with his father's betrayal; with his mother's abandonment. Alone to grieve the loss of the perfect family unit he'd taken for granted.

Slowly Bastien glanced around the room. He'd forgotten he had an audience. The same way he'd forgotten where he was when he'd kissed her earlier.

Jaw tightening, he rose. ‘This meeting is over,' he said into the curious silence.

Chairs screeched on wooden floors one by one and the room emptied.

Then he took a deep sustaining breath and turned to her. ‘What the hell did you think you were playing at?'

‘What?'

‘You were supposed to remain silent until you were called on to speak.'

One elegant brow rose. ‘You mean like some sort of marionette, ready to perform on command?'

Heat rose up his neck. ‘I didn't say that.'

‘Then what exactly did you mean?'

He shoved a hand through his hair, words completely failing him. Striding to the drinks tray set in a corner of the conference room, he splashed vintage cognac into a crystal tumbler and sent the fiery liquid coursing down his throat.

It was only the afternoon...just...but he didn't care.

‘Is that a celebratory drink or a
Damn, Ana isn't getting fired
drink?'

Bastien whirled. She stood behind him, her arms folded across her slender midriff, the picture of composure. Or was it quiet triumph?

For the first time he'd let his emotions get the better of him in the boardroom. He wanted to see her ruffled, shaken, off balance. The way
he
was feeling.

‘It's a
Where the hell has my sanity gone?
drink. You want one?'

‘No, thanks. I know where mine is.'

‘Do you? Then
bravo
.' He raised his glass to her.