head fell back in weak supplication, that she seemed to come to her senses. A voice screamed at her. What the hell are you doing?
She jerked away from him abruptly and took a shaky step back, staring at him, aghast. Her mouth felt swollen and she realised the top of her dress was dislodged, revealing the swell of her breast. She pulled it back up with a jerk. Her hair was half undone and she noticed the black mask she’d been wearing lying on the ground nearby. She was unravelling. And she’d just betrayed herself, spectacularly.
In a thready voice she said, ‘I don’t know what that was...’
‘I do.’
Carter was grim, and Lia hated it that he looked as if he hadn’t just fallen apart—not like her.
‘That was me proving that I do turn you on—and unfortunately proving it to the rest of the world too.’
Lia went still. ‘What do you mean?’
Carter glanced back at something she couldn’t see and then looked at her again. ‘I think we’ve been papped.’
She went cold. The thought of someone witnessing that intensely private moment when she’d been so vulnerable made her want to squirm. It was too much exposure in one night—especially on the heels of how deeply his words had cut when he’d told her exactly what he thought of her: ‘You might not be royalty but you’re a princess.’ She knew that she hadn’t helped matters by reacting so defensively to him, but she was far from some pampered princess, and the fact that his opinion somehow mattered was even more infuriating.
She glared at him. ‘This is all your fault. If you hadn’t pursued me and made that ridiculous bid this wouldn’t have happened.’
He had the gall to shrug one shoulder, and a devilishly sexy smile tipped his mouth up at one side. ‘Sweetheart, I just proved there’s enough electricity between us to power a small nation, so it was inevitable.’
Lia started to pace again, as much to convince herself that her legs were still working as anything else. Then she stopped and looked at him. ‘I’m not your sweetheart, and I’ve had enough. I’m leaving.’
This time he didn’t try to restrain her, he just said with deadly efficiency from behind her, ‘I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.’
Something in his voice made Lia stop. She looked longingly at the entrance to the hotel and felt her neck prickle under his gaze. With the utmost reluctance she turned around and said, as nonchalantly as she could, ‘And why would that be?’
He folded his arms and said, ‘You’ve agreed to the terms of a very public auction and I’m really not joking when I say that I’ll renege on my bid if you don’t fulfil your end of the agreement. You’ll be followed and mercilessly tracked by the paparazzi.’
He took a step closer to Lia and she fought against his physical magnetism. The memory of his tongue, thrusting into her mouth with a kind of possessive intensity was still vivid, and she hated it that it was.
‘And,’ he continued, ‘I know you’re here till after the weekend, and that you have nothing else on your schedule—except presumably shopping. So you have no reason to refuse to take a trip with me.’
His sheer obduracy made Lia want to stamp her foot. As did his casual judgement of her—again. Shopping! Clearly he’d checked up on her—but only at the most superficial level—and the thought of the lengths to which he was prepared to go caught her in her solar plexus before she crushed it. No doubt he’d laugh his head off if she told him that she’d actually planned to go to a series of lectures at NYU on advances in sustainable temporary emergency structures.
This was all just the means to some nefarious end, chemistry or no chemistry. She could see that under his devastating charisma there was a merciless streak, and a sense of futility filled her. Look at what he’d done so far! She didn’t doubt any more that if she walked away then he would take back his one million dollars.
Something about the fact that he thought he had her so neatly squared away in a little box was actually somewhat comforting; he wasn’t anywhere close to seeing the real her. If she had to put up with his overbearing and cocky arrogance for a weekend for the sake of a greater good, then she could do it.
She just wouldn’t be so susceptible again. And she certainly wouldn’t be kissing him again.
Hitching up her chin, she said as icily as she could, ‘It would appear that you leave me no choice in the matter. When do we leave and where are we going?’
Something that looked awfully like triumph flashed in Benjamin Carter’s eyes as he strode towards her and took her arm in his hand again, propelling her forward and saying, ‘There’s no time like the present. We’ll go to your hotel first, so you can pick up some essentials and your passport.’
Lia stopped in her tracks, forcing him to stop too, and he looked back at her, clearly impatient. Mindful of the people around them in the lobby, Lia hissed, sotto voce, ‘Passport? Where on earth are you taking me?’
There was a definite glint of devilry in his eye as he said, ‘Now, that would take all the fun out of it, don’t you think? Don’t worry, Lia, you’ll be quite safe with me.’
She shivered minutely. She was afraid that she’d never been less safe—and it had nothing to do with physical safety...it was the sensual threat he posed and her own weakness to it. She was terrified of the way he made her feel so off balance. Out of control.
Fiercely, she said, ‘Nothing is going to happen this weekend, Mr Carter. No matter what you believe. That kiss was a mistake.’
He smiled, and it was distinctly wolfish. ‘I’ve never had to force a woman into my bed and I’m not about to start. Whatever happens will be completely mutual, I assure you.’
And then, before she knew what was happening, she was being handed her wrap and they were at the entrance of the hotel, where Carter opened the passenger door of a sleek dark grey sports car.
Holding herself rigid as she passed him, she got in with as much dignity as she could and in her head called him every name under the sun as he slammed her door shut and walked around the front of the car with lithe animal grace.
When he slid in beside her, bringing with him that tantalising musky scent, Lia held herself even more rigid. She could feel him glance at her and she stared straight ahead, vowing that with every fibre of her being she would resist this man and keep the vulnerable core of herself intact.
Whatever his game was, she wasn’t interested in playing.
* * *
There had been nothing but a frosty silence interspersed with the barest of monosyllabic answers from the woman who was now curled up in a seat on the opposite side of Ben’s private plane, looking out of the window, with her wrap pulled tightly around her, her hair down around her shoulders. Tousled dark silkiness...
Irritation and something more indefinable lay under Ben’s skin at the thought that she wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t publicly paid a million dollars for the pleasure. But he pushed that aside. She was here now—that was all that mattered.
They’d taken off from a private airfield near Newark about an hour ago, after they’d gone to her hotel suite so that she could collect her passport and some
