two-hour time difference to get you to have dinner with me, so a little effort is worth it, I think.’
Lia looked at him and had to figure that most men wouldn’t have bothered pursuing her this far—or they would be resenting the trouble they’d gone to. A man she’d dated briefly before her ex-fiancé had turned nasty when she’d been less than eager to jump into bed after their first date. It was one of the reasons she’d liked Simon—because he’d respected her boundaries. Little had she known that he was being respectful because he was eyeing up a chance to get a permanent foothold in the legal team who represented her father’s company, and because his ‘needs’ were being met elsewhere.
But Carter was still here, and it felt as if he had stormed into her life, blasting apart the cynicism she’d built around herself after her parents’ break-up and her disastrous engagement.
The consequences if she was to unbend even slightly and give in to his seduction were suddenly terrifying to contemplate—because Lia knew now that he’d already slid under her skin enough to make an impact that she really didn’t want to acknowledge.
For him this was just about a conquest—personal and professional. Of that she had no doubt.
She leaned forward slightly. ‘Look, Mr Carter... I know that this is about my father as much as you say it’s about me—’
But she had to stop as Esmé appeared with their starters—beautifully prepared individual ravioli in a cream and mushroom sauce. Lia didn’t miss the all-too-interested look the woman sent to each of them.
When they were alone again he responded. ‘First of all, my name is Ben. Second of all, the fact that I have a professional interest in your father is common knowledge. Many others have—not just me. Your father has never had a problem protecting his interests, so unless something has changed he is perfectly safe, no matter what happens between us. And thirdly...when I saw your photo in the matchmaker’s portfolio I wanted you before I knew who you were.’
The words sat between them in the thick silence. Fatally, all Lia registered was that he’d wanted her before he’d known who she was. And, God help her, that struck deep. It was like when she’d been standing on that dais and someone had wanted her enough to bid a small fortune for her...an elusive stranger she’d thought she wanted. Who was him. The man sitting across from her now, blue eyes glinting. Handsome as sin.
This man was dangerous to her because he made her yearn for things she’d thought she could live without—for deeply personal desires to be fulfilled. For a man to touch her and make her come alive. Prove to her that she wasn’t defective in some way...
And then she thought of what he’d said about her father. The truth was that her father was vulnerable—he needed to retire and there was no one he trusted enough to take over the business. Lia realised that she was leading Carter to question her father’s robustness when she should be taking the opportunity to deflect it.
She had to give a little...or he’d smell blood.
She forced herself to relax slightly and sucked in a breath. ‘Fine. Ben it is.’ Her heart thumped as she said his name. It felt ridiculously intimate.
He held out his hand across the table, over their fragrant starters. ‘Truce?’
Lia reluctantly held out her own hand. ‘Truce.’
His hand enveloped hers and she had a flashback to seeing him on the roof, skin gleaming with exertion, those muscles bunching and moving. She tried to pull her hand back but his fingers tightened and an unmistakable fire in his eyes mesmerised her.
‘I’m glad you’re here, Lia,’ he said. ‘I look forward to getting to know you better.’
* * *
Ben didn’t fool himself for a second that Lia’s apparent acquiescence had anything to do with him, per se. Oh, she wanted him—that was obvious. But she was still determined to fight it. Still, after he’d declared that truce, and resisted the urge to pull her over the table towards him so he could kiss her, they’d actually had a cordial meal and conversed. Albeit about completely superficial subjects.
On one level it infuriated Ben, because he knew now that he’d underestimated her hugely, and yet she seemed to be determined to close him off, not let him see beneath the surface. And he only had himself to blame. For a man not used to failure—in anything—it was disconcerting.
They’d finished dinner now, and she’d joined him back in the living area for coffee. She was walking around the room, looking at pictures and books, cradling her coffee cup in her hand.
Without that direct blue gaze assessing his every movement, Ben could look his fill. The dress she wore was lovely, but it comprehensively covered her body. He guessed she’d chosen it for that very reason, and once again he found her reluctance to give in to the chemistry between them slightly mystifying.
He didn’t think that any of her reluctance to come with him had been feigned, so he knew she wasn’t the kind of woman who would play hard to get. And yet he’d never expend this much effort on a woman who didn’t want him, so it made him wonder about her, about her experience. Maybe he’d underestimated her in more ways than one?
He asked carefully, ‘So, in light of the fact that you’d signed up with Leviathan Solutions, I’m a little curious as to why you seemed so eager to leave it after your first date?’
He saw how her whole body stiffened at that question. She turned around slowly, after putting the book she’d been looking at back on the shelf. He saw her clear reluctance to speak on her face and it fascinated him—he was used to women who had injected so much filler that they couldn’t emote more than a tense smile.
After a long moment when he thought she was going to deflect his question, she said tightly, ‘The truth is that I had no desire to join a dating agency. Someone decided to do it on my behalf.’
Ben’s curiosity shot up, but he schooled his expression. ‘Who would do such a thing?’
She sighed and came and sat down. Every move she made exuded that effortless casual elegance, even when she was tense.
She put her cup down and looked at Ben. ‘It was my father’s idea. He’s old-fashioned, and he’s determined to see me settled.’
She shut her mouth, as if she’d said too much. Ben could see that she was tempted to fold her arms, shut him out completely. It suddenly occurred to him as he took in her vaguely tortured expression...and when he recalled her reaction to, and subsequent tension during the charity auction...that she might actually be shy.
He leant forward. ‘I know you’re not gay—not after that kiss we shared... So what is it, Lia? Why don’t you want to date?’
She stood up again, agitated, and moved back over to the shelves, turning to face him. ‘Is it so hard to believe that a woman might not want her life to revolve around a man? That she might have ambitions of her own? In case you hadn’t heard, a revolution was fought and won a long time ago.’
Ben sat back, more and more intrigued by these buttons he was pushing. He drawled, ‘I’m no misogynist, Lia, and some would say there’s still a fight to be fought. But people—women in particular—can multitask, dating and working at the same time.’
Now she flushed. ‘I know that.’ She wrapped her arms around herself. ‘I just... My father shouldn’t have done that. Not after—’
She broke off abruptly and Ben sat forward again. ‘After what?’
She glanced away, her jaw tight. When she looked at him again after a moment, she said, ‘Well, it’s not as if you couldn’t find out easily enough.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I was engaged briefly. A year ago.’
‘Who was he?’ Ben asked sharply, hackles rising.
Lia came back around the couch and sat down, picking up her coffee again. ‘I met him at one of my father’s parties. He was a solicitor with a firm that my father’s