but by the time he’d reversed back out it had been straight into rush-hour traffic.
In the interim he’d not actually got out of the car.
The automatic gates closing behind him had seemed to act like a trigger. Without warning the dark thoughts that he had escaped for a few hours last night had come rushing into his head, carrying with them a sense of searing desolation and loss. Unable to fight the downward spiral, he’d sunk deeper and deeper, struggling like a drowning man. Just as his lungs had felt as though they would burst, he had caught a whiff of the perfume that lingered in the confined space, and he had focused on that elusive fragrance, letting it carry him clear.
Over in seconds, minutes or an hour, he had no idea as he sat there feeling as though he’d just run a hard set of sprints, sweat trickling down his back. He leaned back in the seat, pushing his head into the leather rest. The face that belonged to the scent materialised, and he let it form and solidify, allowing the image to push away the feelings of moments before. Sex had always been that for him, an escape, and now the echo of it was doing the same thing.
It was just a shame he hadn’t realised sex had nothing to do with emotions before Lucy. Now he enjoyed it for what it was, which was a better stress-releaser than track work and as good as—though a lot more fun than—solo climbing.
Last night—even for someone who enjoyed sex as much as he did—had been...incredible. He focused on the lips of the face in his head and released a sigh of regret. If what she did for him came in legal prescription form, the next few months would be a hell of a lot easier to get through!
And then it hit him. Like a jigsaw the pieces suddenly slotted together, and he ignored the fact that some of the pieces needed forcing, and thought... Why not?
And then the rest just became clear. He would make the gloriously sexy Lara Gray realise that this was a business arrangement she could not turn down.
Even when she’d been sparking up at him with antagonism he could see that she had been as aware of the crackle of tension between them as he was, just less experienced at hiding the fact. She would come to see that not sleeping with her boss this weekend had been a great career move.
It was also his winning card.
The information he’d requested had come during the airport traffic jam. Owning a law firm with access to first-class investigators could be useful, and these days—as in post-Lucy—he backed up his hunches and gut instincts with hard, researched fact.
The file he’d scrolled through had been thin. It turned out that she didn’t have a criminal record or any skeletons in her closet. She did have a driving licence and a couple of parking tickets, but no fall-back position if she lost her job, and pretty much no qualifications. Lara Gray needed a pay cheque, and her boss was the CEO’s nephew.
Raoul was brought back to the present. ‘Luckily your flight was delayed.’ Raoul had had his jet put on standby to cover that eventuality.
He’d had no trouble rationalising what might on the surface appear an extreme course of action. He never committed to any course of action unless he was willing to follow it through; half-hearted measures were not his style.
Not that his heart had been involved, in this or any other decision he made. It was impossible to remove the risk factor completely, but it could always be minimised.
‘Lucky!’ Lara echoed bitterly as she continued to rub her arm where his hand had lain.
She couldn’t brush away the invisible mark of contact any more than she could brush away the memory of the previous night. It seemed laughable now that she’d spent the bus journey to the airport convincing herself that in time the face that was etched so clearly in her mind would fade, the details would blur. There would come a time when she wouldn’t remember his voice.
She had found the thought soothing because, though she wanted to remember her first, she also wanted to move past it and him. She knew how special last night had been and recognised the danger of souring future relationships by subjecting them to death by comparison. The idea of becoming the dating equivalent of a soccer-team star, who got to be thirty and still considered the winning goal he scored in high school the pinnacle of his life, filled her with horror.
And now he was standing there and the lie was cruelly exposed. Her protection was stripped away and the truth was looking at her through his eyes, his beautiful eyes.
Time was not a factor. His simply wasn’t a face you forgot. Each angle and plane of his face, the subtle shading of his deep voice, the scent of his skin...it was imprinted, indelibly imprinted.
‘Very few people can carry off the open-mouthed look.’
Lara closed her mouth with an audible snap.
‘I didn’t say you were not one of them.’ To his mind Lara Gray could not look anything less than luscious if she spent a day trying.
‘I don’t understand what this little stunt is meant to achieve. Actually,’ she said, lifting a hand to ward off any potential glib or even outrageous explanation, ‘don’t bother. I don’t want to know. Maybe you’ve got nothing better to do with your time, but I have.’
‘You’re not even slightly curious to find out why I tracked you down?’
‘No,’ she lied.
His sardonic disbelieving smile made her grind her teeth.
‘I don’t want to talk to you.’
He shook his head in sympathy. ‘I’d prefer to take you to bed too but—’ He stopped, a rumble of laughter vibrating in his chest as he registered the blush on her face that continued to deepen. ‘Let’s go somewhere you can cool down.’
She ignored his hand and tucked her own firmly behind her back. ‘I am not going anywhere with you. I have no idea what this is about, but my flight could be recalled at any moment and I need to be there.’ She didn’t have the money for another ticket.
‘Relax, you’ll hear from the bar when it’s called.’
‘But—’
‘If you miss it I’ll provide alternative transport.’
‘Oh, really? I suppose you have your own private jet?’
‘Yes.’
Her jeering mockery faded. ‘I’ve no idea why you’re acting like some weirdo stalker, but if you have actually got something to say to me you can say it here.’
‘And have you pass out on me? You’re pale as a ghost. Did you have lunch?’
‘I don’t pass out.’
‘Or breakfast?’
Her stomach gave a loud rumble and, ignoring his grin, she muttered, ‘All right, a coffee.’
* * *
Raoul led her to a table in a corner of the crowded bar-lounge, looking out of place among the groups of cheerful tourists. Without waiting for him to pull out her chair, she sat down.
Raoul shrugged, walked around to his side of the table, and before he had taken
