old enough to be enchanted by a young man’s attentions,’ Benedict deduced with a degree of cynical amusement. ‘What was his name?’
‘Jacques,’ she revealed without hesitation. ‘He was a romantic, and he kissed divinely. We explored the art galleries together and drank coffee at numerous sidewalk cafés. On weekends I visited the family vineyard. It was fun,’ she informed him simply, reflecting on the voluble and often gregarious meals she’d shared, the vivacity and sheer camaraderie of a large extended family.
‘Define “fun”.’
The temptation to tease and prevaricate was very strong, but there seemed little point. ‘He had a very strict maman,’ she revealed solemnly. ‘Who was intent on matching him with the daughter of a neighbouring vintner. An Anglaise miss, albeit a very rich one, might persuade him to live on the other side of the world.’
Amusement lurked in the depths of his eyes. ‘He married the vintner’s daughter?’
‘Yes. His devoted maman despatches a letter twice a year with family news.’
‘Did you love him?’ The query was soft, his voice silk-smooth.
Not the way I love you. ‘We were very good friends,’ she said with the utmost care.
His intense gaze sent a tiny flame flaring through her veins, warming her skin and heating the central core of her femininity.
‘Who parted without regret or remorse when it was time for you to leave?’ Benedict prompted gently.
A winsome smile curved the edges of her mouth. ‘We promised never to forget each other. For a while we exchanged poetic prose.’
‘Predictably the letters became shorter and few and far between?’
‘You’re a terrible cynic.’
‘A realist,’ he corrected her with subtle remonstrance.
Gabbi closed the magazine and placed it down on a nearby table. With an elegant economy of movement she rose to her feet, caught up the sarong and secured it at her waist ‘Would you like some coffee?’
‘Please.’
He turned to follow her, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled in awareness. She subconsciously straightened her shoulders, and forced herself to walk at a leisurely pace.
In the kitchen she crossed to the servery, methodically filled the coffee-maker with water, spooned ground beans into the filter basket, then switched on the machine.
The large kitchen was a chefs delight, with every conceivable modem appliance. A central cooking island held several hobs, and there were twin ovens, two microwaves, and a capacious refrigerator and freezer.
With considerable ease Gabbi extracted two cups and saucers, then set out milk and sugar.
‘How was dinner?’
‘Genuine interest, or idle conversation, Gabbi?’
Was he aware of the effect he had on her? In bed, without doubt. But out of it? Probably not, she thought sadly. Men of Benedict’s calibre were more concerned with creating a financial empire than examining a relationship.
It took considerable effort to meet his lightly mocking gaze. ‘Genuine interest.’
‘We ate Asian food in one of the city’s finest restaurants,’ Benedict informed her indolently. “The business associate was suitably impressed, and the agent will probably earn a large commission.’
‘Naturally you have offered them use of the private jet, which will earn you kudos with the Taiwanese associate, who in turn will recommend you to his contemporaries,’ she concluded dryly, and his lips formed a twisted smile.
‘It’s called taking care of business.’
‘And business is all-important.’
‘Is that a statement or a complaint?’
Her eyes were remarkably steady as she held his gaze. ‘It’s a well-known fact that profits have soared beyond projected estimates in the past few years. Much of Stanton-Nicols’ continuing success is directly attributed to your dedicated efforts.’
‘You didn’t answer the question.’ The words held a dangerous softness that sent a tiny shiver down her spine, and her eyes clashed with his for a few immeasurable seconds before she summoned a credible smile.
‘Why would I complain?’ she queried evenly, supremely conscious of the quickening pulse at the base of her throat.
‘Why, indeed?’ he lightly mocked. ‘You have a vested interest in the family firm.’
‘In more ways than one.’
His eyes narrowed fractionally. ‘Elaborate.’
Gabbi didn’t hedge. ‘The delay in providing James with a grandchild seems to be the subject of family conjecture.’
For a brief millisecond she caught a glimpse of something that resembled anger, then it was lost beneath an impenetrable mask. ‘A fact which Annaliese felt compelled to bring to your attention?’
One finger came to rest against the corner of her mouth, while his thumb traced the heavy, pulsing cord at the side of her throat.
‘Yes.’
His hand trailed lower to the firm swell of her breast, teased a path along the edge of her bikini top, then brushed against the aroused peak before dropping back to his side.
‘We agreed birth control should be your prerogative,’ Benedict declared with unruffled ease, and she swallowed painfully, hating the way her body reacted to his touch.
‘Your stepsister is too self-focused not to take any opportunity to initiate a verbal game of thrust and parry. Who won?’
‘We each retired with superficial wounds,’ Gabbi declared solemnly.
‘Dare I ask when the game is to continue?’
‘Who can tell?’
‘And the weapon?’
She managed a smile. ‘Why—Annaliese herself. With you as the prize. Her formal adoption by James would make her a Stanton. Our divorce is a mere formality in order to change Stanton to Nicols.’
He lifted a hand and brushed light fingers across her cheek. ‘Am I to understand you are not impressed with that scenario?’
No. For a moment she thought she’d screamed the negative out loud, and she stood in mesmerised silence for several seconds, totally unaware that her expressive features were more explicit than any words.
‘Do you believe,’ Benedict began quietly, ‘I deliberately chose you as my wife with the future of Stanton-Nicols foremost in mind?’
Straight for the jugular. Gabbi had expected no less. Her chin tilted slightly. ‘Suitable marriages are manipulated among the wealthy
