* *
Was it only lunchtime?
His grey eyes widening with disbelief, Malachi glanced at the one-of-a-kind Swiss-made watch on his wrist. Unusually for him, the day had seemed to drag—and his mind was only half on work. The other half was picking over his conversation with Addie.
Leaning back, he smiled slowly, remembering the frustration in her voice.
She’d been good and riled. But it wasn’t only exasperation that had made her so hot and bothered. He’d heard another kind of heat.
And just like that an image of Addie flared inside his brain. The soft pouting lips, glossy red curls and legs like a thoroughbred in the Kentucky Derby. All wrapped up in a take-it-or-leave-it manner that he’d had no choice but to take...
Breathing heavily, he shifted in his seat, remembering the feverish touch of her mouth against his, the heat between them blurring their edges so that it had been impossible to feel where she’d ended and he’d begun.
He smiled grimly. For most of his life he’d watched his mother and father use passion and emotion like poker dice, uncaring of the consequences. As an adult, away from their orbit, he’d sworn never to follow in their footsteps. His private life would be conducted in the realm of reason.
Only then he’d met Addie, and thrown away caution and control and broken every damn rule in the book.
A pulse began to beat in his neck and suddenly his chair felt cramped, confined. Standing up, he walked quickly across his office to the large floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the gaming area of his flagship Miami casino. He breathed in sharply. There were nearly seven hundred gaming tables down there, not including the club privé, each one offering a change of fortune, a new beginning, a better life.
Watching people as they gave everything they had—sometimes literally—to the turn of a card or the roll of a dice seemed to him to represent the rawest, most pure expression of what it meant to be human. It was all there—hope and hunger, fear, and the desire to win. He found it fascinating, stimulating. But not as fascinating or stimulating as the thought of seeing his estranged wife again.
Staring down at the men and women, their faces tight with concentration, he felt a flicker of anticipation. She’d told him she never wanted to speak to him again. But she would. She’d have no choice. And not just because of the money.
His eyes gleamed.
So, where should he take her for lunch?
Snatching his jacket from the back of his chair, he tugged it on. Addie would no doubt refuse to meet him if there was even a hint that they would be alone together. A busy, open-plan restaurant would be better. His eyes gleamed again. He knew just the place.
Opening his door, he was met by the startled faces of his secretary, Chrissie, and her assistant.
‘I’m going out for lunch.’
‘But—’
The women glanced up at him in confusion.
‘You’re meeting Andy here at twelve-thirty,’ said Chrissie. ‘You always meet him.’
It was true. Most days he met his casino managers as they came on shift. But today was different.
‘So it’ll be a nice change for both of us,’ he said smoothly. ‘Call Eights. My usual table. And tell Andy I’m indisposed.’
‘Would you like your car to be brought round to the front, sir?’
Malachi shook his head and smiled. ‘No, thank you, Chrissie. I need a bit of fresh air.’
He ran a finger under his collar. After thinking about Addie, what he actually needed was a cold shower, but a tall chilled mojito might just be a tolerable alternative!
* * *
The restaurant was crowded with the usual mix of suave businessmen and glamorous, golden-limbed women. His table was set slightly apart from the other diners, with a view over the ocean. Like all the best views in the world, it was unchanging and yet never the same.
His choices made, he waved away the waiters and sat back, his eye drawn to the horizon between sea and sky, where dense black clouds hovered above the turquoise water. A storm was coming. According to the weather reports, it was due to hit land just after three. Not that he minded. A storm—bad weather in general—was good for business. But it meant that his lunch might have to be slightly curtailed.
His phone gave a small shudder and, turning, he glanced at it, his face expressionless. It was a message from Henry, asking him to call. But he didn’t want his father’s voice inside his head. Not when his mind was filled with thoughts of Addie.
He picked up his glass. The wine was an interesting choice, the crisp hint of apple surprising him. But it wasn’t the wine that caused him to put down his glass. It was the woman walking through the restaurant towards him.
Like every other man in the room, he watched her intently as she wove sinuously between the tables. He felt a rush of excitement. The weathermen had been wrong. The storm had already hit town. And her name was Hurricane Addie!
Staring defiantly ahead, Addie made her way across the room. Walking into the restaurant, she’d felt a fluttering panic. It was one thing deciding in anger to gatecrash his lunch and cajole him into renewing her funding—quite another to confront him in cold blood. In theory, she could tell herself that she no longer cared about him and that he was just another businessman on her list. She could even remind herself that he was the man who had lied to her face and broken her heart. But all that reason and logic had been forgotten when she’d pulled open the door and stepped into the restaurant.
Despite the fact that the room was packed with diners, she spotted him in a heartbeat. No one but Malachi had that invisible but tangible push-me-pull-me energy. Radiating out from him like rays from the sun, it tugged her gaze across the room to where he sat, gazing out at the ocean like some buccaneer on the high seas. She breathed in sharply, her hand rising involuntarily, protectively in front of her, as though to ward off the full intensity of his masculinity.
He was even more beautiful than she remembered, with his dark hair falling across his forehead, that sculpted poet’s profile and those eyes...the grey shifting and darkening like a constantly changing winter sky. He looked cool and relaxed in a tailored charcoal-grey suit that was a shade lighter than his eyes—and worth every cent of the billions of dollars he was rumoured to have made from his gaming empire.
Her head was spinning; the noise of the room sounded distant and distorted. But even though it was clear he still had the power to throw her off balance, she damn well wasn’t going to reveal that fact to Malachi.
Her hands curling into fists, she walked purposefully towards him and stopped in front of his table. Her back felt as if it was burning beneath the combined female envy in the room, but her blue gaze was cool and scornful as they stared at one another in silence.
It was she who spoke first. ‘You wanted to have lunch with me.’ Her voice was husky, her cheeks flushed with colour. ‘So here I am.’
‘Yes, you are,’ he said softly. He stared in undisguised appreciation at the clinging black dress. Or rather at the swelling curves beneath the fabric. ‘You look incredible, sweetheart.
