A Night With Consequences. Margaret Mayo

world of hunger and desire. A world where there was just Blake and herself. Blake making love to her, teaching her, encouraging her. She felt embarrassed by it. This should not be happening.

      But how to help herself? She had the feeling that Blake could read the thoughts in her mind. The countless thoughts that raced round and round, confusing her and worrying her, bringing swift colour to her cheeks, and she wished now that she had gone to her room and shut herself in.

      In London Blake was her boss, her employer, and she had never let herself think of him in any other way. She had not even wanted to. But now that she was far away from home, away from the safe and familiar, she was changing, relaxing—and almost welcoming the attention he was paying her.

      ‘When I’m feeling sad,’ she admitted in answer to his question, surprised to hear that her voice sounded normal. ‘I don’t really understand opera, but it somehow helps me. Not that I’ve ever been to a live performance.’

      ‘Is that so?’ Blake’s brows lifted. ‘Then we will have to see whether we can remedy that while we’re here. Watching an opera being performed at La Scala is a serious sensation in itself.’

      Swift alarm stabbed at Kara’s chest. Attending a concert with Blake went far beyond anything that was reasonable and sane. ‘I doubt whether we’ll have time.’ And even if they had would she really want to go with him? Sit with him for two or three hours, or however long it lasted? This new-found awareness would fill her to such an extent that she would be unable to concentrate on what was going on on the stage. She put on her very best office voice. ‘You have a very full schedule, Mr Benedict. And even if you didn’t, I doubt you’d get tickets at this late stage. They must be sold out months in advance.’

      ‘Are you trying to get out of it?’

      ‘I am.’ There was no point in lying.

      Blake laughed at her honesty. ‘Tut-tut, Kara. Have you not realised yet that I always get my own way? And perhaps you could learn to call me Blake?’

      There was a whole world of difference between calling him Blake in her mind and saying it to his face. Maybe she was old-fashioned, but using his surname was what she needed more than anything right now. It held up the barrier. It prevented intimacy. It reminded her of who he was.

      Not that her body took heed of any barriers. The longer they were together the more aware of him she became. And the more uncomfortable she felt. It was such a foreign feeling that she wanted to turn and run in case he sensed it.

      Blake was a man of the world. He knew all about women. If he looked too deeply into her eyes he would be able to see how much he affected her. He would guess at the riot of emotions he had stirred. And he might play on it. Take advantage. Hammer away at her senses until she weakened.

      The thought of weakening, of allowing him to flirt and tease, maybe even go further, caused a fast, heart-thumping eruption of excitement, of actual physical need. She turned and began to walk away. Finally she was beginning to appreciate what all the other girls in the office talked about.

      ‘You do understand, Kara—’ his voice came closely over her shoulder ‘—that running away tells me more about you than if you had stayed and argued.’

      Blake knew that it was not going to be easy getting Kara Redman to relax in his company. For a few minutes earlier, when they had been window shopping, she had become animated, but as soon as he had suggested doing something that would throw them into close contact she had frozen.

      The question was, why? And how long was it going to take him to find out? Kara was the most private person he knew. Other women were always eager to talk about themselves, to show off, to preen like a peacock in front of him. Not so Kara. And the less she opened up the more intrigued he became, the more determined to prise open the shell of security she had wrapped around herself. There had to be a reason and he wanted to know what it was. Whether it really was because of her father or whether it was something else.

      ‘I am not running away.’

      He smiled at the hint of defiance in her voice. ‘Good, because I want you to relax. I want you to enjoy your time spent here. It’s not all about the conference, and since you’ve never been to Milan before I think you should see something more of the city than the inside of a hotel. In my humble opinion La Scala is the pièce de résistance. You cannot possibly leave without embracing a performance here. And I would be honoured to be the one to introduce you to the delights of live opera.’

      ‘It’s very kind of you Mr—er—Blake, but your diary is full.’

      ‘As you constantly remind me.’ He smiled as he spoke, sensing how difficult it had been for her to use his first name. ‘Nevertheless we will make time.’ He saw the apprehension in her blue eyes, and the way her teeth bit nervously on her lusciously plump bottom lip—something else he had never noticed before.

      He was tempted to kiss away her nervousness, to taste those delicious lips for himself. But he knew that to do so would be fatal. Kara Redman was without a doubt the most intriguing female he had ever come across, and if it was the last thing he did he was going to remove the barriers she had built around herself. And he would take great pleasure in doing so.

      ‘I actually think we should be getting back,’ said Kara, looking pointedly at her watch. ‘Dinner will be in an hour, and I need to shower and—’

      ‘You are right, of course,’ said Blake, but she need not think that he had given up on the opera. The idea of them sitting together watching a performance, her slender body close to his, touching him perhaps, of letting her delicate perfume entrance him, maybe even finding himself far more aware of his surprisingly beautiful assistant than of what was going on onstage, was something that would not go away.

      Kara Redman had begun to get beneath his skin like no other woman ever had. He’d been out with lots of beautiful women since his divorce, but their beauty had been skin-deep. His assistant was very different. Once he had really looked at her he had seen a strikingly good-looking woman—and he would never be able to understand why she hid her amazing figure beneath sensible clothes. She was also superbly intelligent. In fact she was one hell of a woman—and he could not believe that he had not realised this months ago.