spoke so close behind her that she jumped. ‘You have no choice, I’m afraid. The hotel is booked out for the conference.’
Her eyebrows winged upwards. ‘What about my original reservation?’
‘Cancelled in favour of this one.’
A shiver propelled itself down her spine. She tried to tell herself she was affronted by his high-handedness, but the sense of rising excitement drowned it out. ‘You were pretty sure I’d agree,’ she said with a coolness she was far from experiencing.
He gave a crooked smile at which her heart did a kind of somersault. ‘I felt confident I could persuade you.’
Her throat dried as she visualised his methods of persuasion. She had the feeling they would be devastatingly effective. Enjoyable, too, a traitorous inner voice insisted.
‘I also counted on your ambition to overcome any lingering scruples you might have about the arrangements,’ he added.
Surprise flared in her amethyst gaze. ‘My ambition?’
‘You needn’t pretend with me,’ he said, confusing her all the more. ‘Anyone who bluffs her way into a job as you did, then works as hard as you’ve done to keep it, has to be ambitious. The number of courses you attend and the hours you put in speak for themselves.’
He was also well aware of her determination to gain promotion, she thought. It painted a different picture of her from the true one. Yet she couldn’t defend herself without explaining that most of it was for her mother’s sake, which she had no intention of doing.
The strength of her reluctance caught her by surprise. She didn’t want his pity, but there was another reason, she recognised unwillingly. She liked having Slade treat her as a desirable woman and it would end as soon as he knew the truth. Didn’t she have enough experience of what happened with first her father, then Joshua? She didn’t want to go through such anguish ever again.
‘What is it, Eden?’ Slade asked, shattering her reverie as he touched a finger to her chin, tilting her face up to him.
The light touch against her throat and the intense concern she glimpsed in his eyes was almost too much. Then common sense asserted itself. ‘Nothing, why?’
‘For a moment, you looked incredibly sad, as if the weight of the world was on your shoulders.’ His hands slid down, coming to rest on the top of her arms. ‘They’re much too slight for such a burden.’
Choked by feelings which threatened to overwhelm her, she spun away on to the terrace. ‘I’m tougher than I look.’
She felt rather than heard his change of demeanour. His voice was cold when he said, ‘I don’t doubt it. Someone with your ambition would have to be.’
No, no, you’re wrong about me, she wanted to deny—then immediately questioned why she should care what he thought. Wasn’t it better if he accepted his own explanation of her behaviour, rather than sought the real one?
She affected a bright smile as she turned back to him. ‘You’re right, of course. Now which bedroom do you want me to take?’
A wry smile spilled across his features. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in saying mine?’
‘None at all,’ she said briskly, striving to control her heartbeat, which contrarily picked up speed at the very idea. ‘It wasn’t part of our agreement.’
He gave an exaggerated shake of his head in mock-disappointment. ‘What a pity.’
It was only as she settled into the master bedroom which he generously allocated to her, complete with its own terrace and ocean view, that she realised how restrictive this arrangement must be to him.
By ruling out holiday flirtations for her, a supposedly married woman, he had also ruled out casual sex for himself. If the reports of his love life were even partially true, celibacy was not his preferred state.
Her uneasy glance went to the closed door which separated them. She could hear him humming under his breath as he mixed a drink for himself, she having already declined one. She hoped he had his male hormones firmly under control because she had no intentions of taking this make-believe marriage any further. Slade Benedict was arrogant, unfeeling and iron-willed. His readiness to commandeer her holiday for his own purposes was proof enough. She would be crazy to let him use her any further, when she knew from past experience how it was bound to end.
All the same, there was something about him which haunted her. His power over her job and pay cheque couldn’t explain it. This was much more intimate and disturbing, and she slammed her suitcase lid down hard, as if she could also put a lid on her thoughts. The sound reverberated through the suite, reminding Eden that she hadn’t heard any sounds from the other room for a while. Slade had said he intended to check out the conference venue, as he would be giving an address next day, so he must have gone to do so.
Cautiously, she opened her bedroom door and stepped into the living-room which separated their sleeping quarters. The remains of his drink sat on a side-table, a film of moisture beading the glass. Lazily she traced a pattern in the moisture then withdrew hastily. It was only his glass, for goodness’ sake. She should throw it in his face, not dream over it. What on earth was getting into her?
Her wandering gaze was arrested by several items lying behind the glass. Slade must have emptied his pockets before going out.
She ignored the jumble of keys, tickets and other paraphernalia, drawn instead to an open ticket wallet in which she glimpsed some photographs. Slade’s family? The temptation to peek was irresistible.
They were indeed family snaps, she found when she drew them towards her. One was of Slade wrestling an enormous black dog, a Newfoundland, Eden noted. He looked more relaxed and happy than she had ever seen him at the office. The second photo was a studio portrait of a young girl of about nine or ten. Her face was set in such a wistful expression that Eden’s heart constricted in response.
‘My daughter,’ Slade supplied in a harsh tone.
She jumped, not having heard him return. Waves of nausea washed over her. If this was his daughter, then somewhere there was a real Mrs Benedict. What did he think he was playing at?
‘Not my real daughter, of course,’ he supplied as if reading her thoughts. ‘Katie was my sister’s child. She and her husband were killed in a road accident and Katie was the only survivor.’
Tears blurred Eden’s vision. ‘Poor little mite. How old was she when they died? I mean, I don’t want to pry or anything, but——’
‘But you need to know about her in order to play your part,’ he cut in before she could finish. He joined her on the couch and lifted the folder from her hands. His expression softened as he studied the photo and she wondered at the change in him. Where was the ruthless, uncaring dictator now?
The expression was gone in an instant, replaced by a hard, cold mask which chilled her to look upon it. ‘My sister married against family advice,’ he told her. ‘When her husband found out that she had no money of her own other than an income from shares I’d given her in my company, what love there was soon died. By then Julie was pregnant with Katie and she stayed for the sake of her child.’
Eden touched his hand lightly. ‘You don’t
