at her. She’d done nothing wrong. She could repeat that to herself a thousand times over. Yet it didn’t alter the reality of her situation.
Whether she liked it or not, she owed Bastien Heidecker. He might not have had grounds to fire her two months ago, but he had grounds now.
More importantly, he’d saved her from prison. He hadn’t been obliged to bail her out or even to show up in court. But he had.
The memory of the fifteen-year-old Bastien who’d cleaned her cut when she’d fallen in his parents’ garden in Verbier slammed into her thoughts. With crystal clarity she recalled his gentle hands as he’d tended her wound and the stoic but kind smile he’d bestowed on her once the plaster was in place. Even his admonishment to be careful on the loose steps leading to the garden had been gentle.
That had been the one and only time Bastien had genuinely smiled at her.
She pushed the memory away. There was an ocean of difference between that Bastien and this one. And even that Bastien had been an anomaly. It had been the only time during that whole miserable winter that he’d softened towards her. The rest of the time he’d frozen her out, looked right through her with those arctic grey eyes as if she didn’t exist.
The urge now to pretend he didn’t exist, to keep walking, was strong.
But she couldn’t move. Her sense of integrity wouldn’t allow her. Despite their chaotic past, he’d stuck his neck out for her.
And she’d never walked away from her responsibilities before.
She spun around. The lights had turned green and the limo was pulling into the traffic. Panicked, she raced after it, cursing as her heels nearly sent her flying again.
‘Wait!’
Her shout was useless as the car sped away. Cold that had nothing to do with the freezing weather gripped her chest.
In the face of her mother’s faithlessness Ana had tried to live her life by a strict moral code. And she’d just let herself down spectacularly.
Noticing the curious glances from passers-by, she swiped a hand over her face.
When the mobile phone rang she didn’t recognise where it came from. Glancing down, she realised she still wore Bastien’s jacket.
Frantically, she tore through the pockets, grabbed the phone and answered it.
‘Have you come to your senses yet?’
* * *
Bastien watched Ana fight to control her irritation, the rise and fall of her chest rapid as she took several deep breaths. Against his will, his mouth twitched at the effort it took for her to remain silent. The child he’d known all those years ago wouldn’t have held back her Latin temper at being made to chase after his car.
With her seatbelt on, her breasts stood out in proud prominence, the thin material of her dress displaying the tight peaks of her nipples. His senses stirred again, deeper, as he recalled how they felt, how they tasted. In her agitation earlier she’d bitten her lip repeatedly, making it fuller, redder than usual, making her natural, sensual pout even more pronounced, despite her mouth being pursed with displeasure.
He clamped down on the hot fizz of arousal and wrenched his gaze away. Unfortunately there was nowhere else on her body he could look without increasing the unwelcome sensations rampaging through him, threatening to drown him. Looking out of the window the way he’d tried earlier didn’t work.
For reasons he couldn’t comprehend his senses were sharply attuned to every move Ana Duval made. But this time he refused to succumb to the spell she was weaving.
He preferred curvy petite blondes with no baggage. He carried enough baggage from his childhood to last him a lifetime. And Ana Duval carried plenty of her own.
It was the reason he’d tried to have her thrown off his advertising campaign two months ago, when he’d discovered who his management team had chosen for the ads.
He’d been stunned when she’d actually smiled on seeing him on the boat. As if she was pleased to see him. When he’d made the reason for his visit clear she’d slowly, gracefully, uncurled herself from that sensual pose she’d been holding, faced him and dared him to do his worst.
And he nearly had...
Luckily he’d stopped himself in time—had walked away convinced that Ana, with her lithe, svelte figure and river of shining black hair, held no thrall for him.
Now he glanced into her wide, accusing eyes and willed the pounding in his blood away. He would never succumb to her temptation. Never be drawn into the emotional quagmire she carried with her. He was more than content living in his emotionally desolate state.
‘You knew I was trying to stop the car and yet you pulled away.’
‘I thought a few minutes in the cold would knock some sense into you.’ Again, the urge to smile at her waspish tone pulled at him.
‘You really are heartless—you know that?’
‘What did you think? That I’d appear like a magical genie, rescue you from the big, bad judge and grant you three wishes into the bargain?’
The irritated flick of her head drew his attention to the sleek line of her throat, to the swift pulse hammering away under her smooth skin.
‘No, of course not. But a little courtesy wouldn’t have been amiss.’
‘I’m not in the habit of granting courtesies to errant employees. Be grateful I didn’t leave you to rot in prison.’
‘Maybe you should have!’
The slightly hysterical edge to her tone gave him pause. With a tiny pang he admitted that perhaps he was being too harsh, letting his own frazzled state get in the way of clear thinking.
But then hadn’t she had this effect on him last time?
‘Does anyone hold a grudge against you and want to frame you like this?’ he asked. The quicker they got to the bottom of her predicament the quicker they could go their separate ways.
The shadows receded from her eyes. Sharp sensation pierced him at her grateful look but he squashed it.
Her generous lips curved in a small, cynical smile. ‘This is the modelling industry, Bastien. The number one rule is never to turn your back on a fellow model unless you want a knife buried in it.’
His name on her lips made that unnerving sensation pierce harder. He shifted in his seat, his jaw clenching, and rejected the feeling. ‘So you think someone’s trying to jeopardise your position with DBH for their own ends?’
She shook her head, sending the silky tresses sliding over her shoulders. ‘I don’t see why. If someone wanted the assignment that badly they would’ve tried something at the beginning of the campaign—not when it’s almost finished. How about you?’
Shock darted up his spine at her firm challenge. Witnessing her healthy suspicion made him want to laugh out loud. ‘Excusez moi?’
‘Have
