were informed risks. Jason had to admit that, this time, he’d gone out on a limb.
Still, it could be an interesting project, he told himself, turning Beville Holdings around. A real challenge. He’d been getting into a rut lately.
Success would depend on what he discovered in here, Jason decided as he pushed through the half-glass door. If serious problems lay in the sales and marketing departments, things could get tricky.
Golden handshakes were the only answer for getting rid of bad management, and that was very costly.
So was this décor, Jason realised as he set foot on the plush jade carpet that covered the spacious reception area. His eyebrows lifted as he glanced at the cream leather seating and the expensively framed watercolours that graced the cream walls, his thoughtful gaze finally resting on the very modern, but very unmanned reception desk.
He was glancing at the time on his watch—it was eight twenty-seven—when a movement caught the corner of his eye. Jason turned in time to see a young woman emerge from the ladies’ room across the way.
Jason’s heart skipped a beat.
She was blonde, and beautiful, wearing a pale green dress that clung to her perfect breasts and swished around her perfect legs. She seemed startled when she saw him, stopping in mid-stride. But then, with a toss of her lovely head, she headed in his direction, her hips swaying provocatively.
‘Good morning, Mr Pollack,’ she said crisply as she stretched out her hand towards him. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you when you came in, but I’m not due to start till eight thirty.’
So she knew who he was, did she? Probably saw his photo in the paper yesterday, Jason realised as he took her hand, holding it within both of his as he absorbed more of her incredible beauty at closer quarters.
‘That’s perfectly all right, Miss…er…’
‘Johannsen,’ she supplied. ‘Leah Johannsen. I…I’m the receptionist here at Beville Holdings.’
Jason knew lots of companies hired lookers to man their front desk, but this girl was totally wasted here. She could have been a model, she was so striking. Those eyes. That mouth. That stunning hair. So shiny and silky looking, with just the hint of a wave as it rippled down over her slender shoulders.
It made you want to touch it. Kiss it. Wrap it around your…
Jason gave himself a severe mental shake, hoping his face did not reflect his thoughts. Indulging in that type of sexual fantasy was not Jason’s usual bent.
But once the image filled his mind, it was joined by others. To his annoyance, his flesh soon followed and he found himself glancing down at her left hand to see if she was wearing any rings.
The shot of adrenalin that came when he saw that her fingers were bare startled Jason. It wasn’t like him to lose it over a pretty girl.
But of course this girl wasn’t just pretty. She was perfection.
And suddenly, he wanted her. Wanted her more than he’d ever wanted Hilary.
But then he hadn’t ever really wanted Hilary as such, had he? He’d just wanted regular sex. Any attractive woman would have done.
But you really want this girl, came a voice from inside that Jason didn’t recognise. It was dark and driven and utterly ruthless. You want her and you’re going to have her, come hell or high water!
CHAPTER THREE
IT FELT LIKE an eternity to Leah before Jason Pollack let her hand go.
But maybe that was just her imagination. Time seemed to have slowed down since she came out of the ladies’ room and found her new boss standing just inside the main door, looking over at her.
His photo hadn’t done him justice. But then, how could a two-dimensional head-and-shoulders shot capture the essence of such a man?
Yesterday, Leah had thought his dark, deeply set eyes had exuded magnate material. In the flesh, they exuded something else, a powerful magnetism that had pulled at her from across the room.
She’d been unable to breathe for a moment. Unable to move. But then her pride—and a measure of pique—had come to her rescue, snapping her out of her fatuous state and propelling her towards him with cool eyes and creditable composure. She even managed to observe—and ruefully admire—his taste in clothes.
His black, single-breasted business suit was sleek and expensive, tailored to complement his tall, elegantly lean body. He’d matched it with a deep blue shirt that highlighted his olive skin. His silvery grey tie was classy, and nicely understated. So was his watch, also silver, with a black leather band.
By the time she reached him, Leah imagined—mistakenly, as it turned out—that she could shake his hand and come away unscathed.
But the moment his hands—both of them—enclosed hers, she’d been totally rattled, reduced to stammering when he asked her name.
Yet she never stammered. Or felt swamped by the kind of feelings that had overtaken her.
Within moments, she’d wanted to forget where she was and who he was. When he’d stared deep into her eyes, she’d dissolved inside. When he’d glanced down at her left hand—rather pointedly, she’d thought—she’d wanted to blurt out that, yes, she was free, free to do whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted it.
The wanton submissiveness that overwhelmed her had been mind-blowing. And totally shocking. Leah had never experienced anything like it. Not even with Carl, whom she’d loved.
But this had nothing to do with love, Leah realised shakily after he released her hand.
His no longer touching her helped Leah gather herself a little. Now, if only he would stop looking at her the way he was looking at her, she might be able to pull herself totally together. But he continued to gobble her up with his eyes.
Leah knew men found her attractive. What was on show, that is. Jason Pollack might not be so interested if she revealed her left thigh to him.
Thinking about her scars did what it always did to Leah. Brought her sharply back to the real world, reminding her also that Jason Pollack had once married an older woman for money, a crime on a par with marrying a girl for her physical perfection alone. The last man on earth Leah would want to become involved with was another cold-blooded, conscienceless devil who had a computer chip for a heart.
Even if he was the sexiest man she’d ever met!
‘I must get to my desk, Mr Pollack,’ she said, her manner and tone suitably frosty. ‘It’s gone eight thirty.’ And, turning her back on him, she walked with stiffly held shoulders to her work station, not looking back at him as she settled herself at her desk.
But she could feel his eyes still on her, burning right through her clothes.
Jim Matheson charging down the hallway into the reception area was a godsend.
‘Mr Pollack! So there you are! They just rang from the factory to say you left some time ago. Leah, why didn’t you let us know Mr Pollack was here?’ Jim snapped
