Penny Jordan

A Treacherous Seduction


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he hoped to make her feel sorry for him by insinuating that he was short of money.

      Whilst she was still wondering just what she ought to do a very elegant dark-haired woman in her early fifties came hurrying down the corridor towards them.

      ‘Ah, Alex, there you are!’ she exclaimed, addressing Beth’s companion. ‘If you’re ready to leave, the car’s here…’

      She gave Beth a coolly assessing look which made Beth feel acutely conscious of her own casual clothes and the older woman’s immaculate elegance. She had the chicness of a Parisian, from the tips of her immaculately manicured fingernails to the top of her shiningly groomed chignon. Pearls, large enough to have been fake but which Beth felt pretty sure were anything but, were clipped to her ears, and the gold necklace she was wearing looked equally expensive.

      Whoever she was, the woman was obviously very wealthy. If this man was acting as an interpreter for her he must be trustworthy, Beth acknowledged, because one look at the older woman’s face made it abundantly clear that she was not the sort of person to be duped by anyone—no matter how handsome their face or how sexy their body.

      ‘You don’t have to make up your mind right now,’ the man was telling Beth calmly. ‘Here is my name and a number where you can reach me.’ Reaching into his jacket, he removed a pen and a piece of paper on which he quickly wrote something before handing it to Beth. ‘I shall be here in the hotel tomorrow morning. You can let me know your decision then.’

      She wasn’t going to accept his offer, of course, Beth assured herself once he and his companion had gone. Even if he had been an accredited interpreter provided by a reputable agency she would still have had her doubts.

      Because he’s too sexy…too…too disturbingly male, and you’re too vulnerable, an inner voice taunted her. I thought you were supposed to be immune to men like him now. You said that Julian Cox had cured you of ever falling in love again.

      No. That will never happen, she answered her sharp-tongued inner critic swiftly. There’s no way I could ever be in danger of falling for a man like him, a man who’s far too good-looking for his own good. Heavens, he must have women swarming all over him. Why on earth should he be interested in someone like me?

      Perhaps for the same reason that Julian Cox was interested in you, her inner critic taunted. To him you probably seem to be an easy meal ticket. A woman on her own, vulnerable. Remember what you were told before you left home.

      Beth was determined not to accept Alex’s offer, but in the morning, when she presented herself at the hotel’s reception desk again, insisting that she desperately needed an accredited interpreter, the man behind the counter shook his head regretfully, repeating what Beth had been told the previous day.

      ‘I am sorry, but we simply cannot. There are conventions,’ he told Beth.

      It crossed Beth’s mind that she might have to abandon her plans to make this a business trip and simply do some sightseeing instead. But that would mean going home, having to admit to another failure…She had come to Prague to look for crystal, and she was not going to go home until she had found some.

      Even if that meant accepting the services of a man like Alex Andrews?

      Even if it meant accepting that—yes! Beth told herself sternly.

      She had eaten her breakfast alone in her room; the hotel was busy, and, despite all the stern admonishments she had made to herself, she still didn’t feel confident enough to eat in the dining room—alone. Now she ordered herself a coffee and removed the guidebook she had bought on her arrival in Prague from her handbag. For all she knew Alex Andrews might not even turn up. Well, if he didn’t there were plenty of other foreign students looking for work, she reminded herself stoically.

      She went and sat down in a corner of the hotel lobby, not exactly hiding herself away out of sight, but certainly not making herself very obvious either, she recognised with a small stab of irritated despair. Why was she so lacking in confidence, so insecure, so…so vulnerable? It was not as though she had any reason to be. She was part of a very loving and closely knit family; she had parents who had always supported and protected her. Perhaps that was what it was. Perhaps they had protected her a little too much, she decided ruefully. Certainly Kelly, her friend, seemed to think so.

      ‘The waiter couldn’t remember what you’d ordered, so I’ve brought you a cappuccino…’

      Beth nearly jumped out of her skin as she heard Alex’s husky, sensual voice.

      How had he found her here in this quiet corner? And, more importantly, how had he known she’d ordered coffee in the first place? And then, as he placed the tray he was carrying down on the table in front of her, Beth guessed what he had done. There were two cups of coffee on it and a croissant. No doubt all of them charged to her room!

      ‘I actually ordered my coffee black,’ she told him curtly, and not quite truthfully.

      ‘Oh.’ He gave her an oblique, smiling look. ‘That’s odd; I could have sworn you were a cappuccino girl. In fact I can almost see you with just a hint of a creamy chocolatey moustache.’

      Beth stared at him in angry disbelief. He was taking far too many liberties, behaving far too personally. She gave him a ferociously frosty look and informed him arctically, ‘As a woman, I hardly find that a flattering allusion. Men have moustaches.’

      ‘Not the kind I mean,’ he returned promptly as he sat down beside her, a wicked smile dancing in his eyes as he leaned forward. His lips were so close to her ear that she could actually feel the warmth of his breath as he whispered provocatively, ‘The kind I meant is kissed off, not shaved…’

      Beth’s eyes widened in outraged fury.

      He was actually pretending to flirt with her, pretending to find her attractive.

      She started to get up, too furious to even bother telling him that she was not going to need his services, when, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the beautiful crystal lustres the salesgirl was placing on the display shelves of the hotel’s gift shop. Beth caught her breath. They were just so beautiful. The lustres moved gently, catching the light, their delicacy and beauty so immediately covetable that Beth ached to buy them.

      A friend of her mother’s had some antique Venetian ones which she had inherited from her grandmother, and Beth had always loved them.

      ‘What is it?’ she heard Alex asking her curiously at her side.

      ‘The lustres…the wall-lights,’ Beth explained. ‘They’re so beautiful.’

      ‘Very beautiful and I’m afraid very expensive,’ Alex told her. ‘Were you thinking of buying them as a gift, or for yourself?’

      ‘For my shop,’ Beth told him absently, her attention concentrated on the lustres.

      ‘You own a shop? Where? What kind?’ His voice was less soft now, sharp with interest and something which Beth told herself was almost avaricious—too avaricious to be mere polite curiosity.

      ‘Yes. I do…in a small town you won’t have heard of. It’s called Rye-on-Averton. I…we sell good-quality china and pottery ornaments and glassware. That’s why I’ve come to Prague. I’m looking for new suppliers here, but the quality has to be right, and the price…’

      ‘Well, you won’t beat those pieces for quality,’ Alex told her positively.

      Beth looked at him, but before she could say anything he was telling her, ‘Your coffee’s going cold. You had better drink it and I had better introduce myself to you properly. As you know, I’m Alex Andrews.’

      He held out his hand. A little reluctantly Beth took it. She had no idea why she felt so reluctant to touch him, or to have any kind of physical contact with him. Any other woman would have been more than eager to do so, she was quite sure. So what did that make her? A frightened little rabbit…too scared to touch such a good-looking and sexy man because she was afraid of the effect he might have on her? Of course not.