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 essentials. She’d been about to go into the bathroom to change out of her dress when something perverse had made Ben say, ‘We don’t have time for that.’
She’d looked at him, blue eyes sending a flash of dark icy fire, and then, to give her her due, she’d merely stalked out of the suite, leaving her bags for him to pick up.
She was playing the role of princess to the hilt, and he had no one to blame but himself after he’d called her one. That enigmatic look in her eyes came back to him, the sense that she’d been hurt. His conscience pricked, even as he told himself that the women he knew from her kind of world were hardened.
But he had to admit that she was an intriguing mass of contradictions. Not least of which was the contradiction he’d met while they’d been wearing their masks. He had to acknowledge a little uncomfortably that he had had an advantage, having recognised her from the first moment. He’d intended to tell her who he was, but then she’d been so surprisingly sweet. And flirtatious. Hot. It had been a stark contrast to their first meeting—confirming that he’d never really stood a chance, because she’d gone there only to warn him off.
But then, when she hadn’t realised who he was, he’d been loath to ruin the mood by revealing his identity. Ben scowled now. It wasn’t like him to give in to weak impulses. The whole object of this exercise was to seduce her, and ultimately—possibly—marry her.
Although right now the idea of this woman submitting to a life of domestic bliss with Ben seemed to be a stretch too far, even for his imagination. Surely this was the point when he decided she wasn’t worth the trouble? There was any number of ex-lovers who’d made no attempt to hide their desire to become Mrs Carter...and yet Ben found he was curiously reluctant to let Lia go.
He wanted her. And the thought of taming her sharp tongue and making her acquiescent and pliant with desire was more arousing than anything he could remember.
He finally looked away from the disturbing provocation of the woman on the other side of the aisle and yanked at his bow tie, undoing it. He felt petty now, for not letting her change earlier. It wasn’t exactly helping to douse his desire, knowing that just under the slimmest of coverings that tantalising body was—
‘There were no paparazzi, were there?’
Ben jerked his head round to find those cool blue eyes narrowed on him, and saw that her arms were folded. Some of the tension inside him loosened and he turned towards her, seeing how her gaze involuntarily darted down and then back up.
She wanted him. And he would prove it to her.
Feeling only the tiniest prick of his conscience, Ben said, ‘If you remember, I said I thought we’d been papped.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘I can’t believe I fell for it.’
Ben shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. ‘You still wouldn’t have had a choice in the end.’
That