Confessions of a Millionaire's Mistress. Robyn Grady

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СКАЧАТЬ tall dark delectable hit man.

      His eyes met hers and widened at the same time he stopped dead.

      So he’d been just as clueless about her identity when he’d given her the once-over earlier. Well, if he was still interested, so was she…in getting rid of him as fast as she could.

      She jumped in to take advantage of the awkward moment. ‘Sorry to sound rude, but my father and I are in the middle of an important discussion. Perhaps we could talk later.’

      Her father went to protest, but perceptive Benton Scott held up a hand. ‘It’s fine, Rodney. This doesn’t appear to be the best time for introductions. And possibly tonight isn’t the night for announcements either.’

      Celeste shivered. Those exquisite tingles again, but this time at a voice that was as rich and tempting as it was dangerous, like a stream of darkest chocolate undulating over jagged rock.

      ‘No, no.’ Rodney Prince moved toward his guest, his five-ten stature minimised beside this other man’s impressive height. ‘Come through.’ He flicked a glance at his daughter. ‘We’ve finished here, haven’t we, hon?’

      Emotion thickened in her throat. Had he forgotten that much? Did her feelings matter so little?

      Benton Scott spoke up. ‘Actually, Rodney, I over-heard a guest—Suzanne Simmons. She said she needed to find you to say goodbye. She’d already called for her car.’

      Her father’s moustache twitched and he cleared his throat. ‘I should go. Ms Simmons is one of my most important clients.’

      The younger man stepped aside. ‘I understand.’

      When her father clapped his guest on the back and left without a backward glance, Celeste braced herself against another twinge of hurt. But she didn’t have time for self-pity. Savvy businesswomen didn’t pout; they dealt the hand rather than merely played it. And, as much as it pained, Benton Scott could well be her trump card.

      Outwardly cool, she concentrated on her words and indicated a leather tub chair. ‘Please, take a seat.’

      He smiled almost gently, then caught the door knob. ‘As I said earlier, it’s best we leave more thorough introductions for now. Goodnight, Miss Prince.’

      No way. She had a plan and this man was her key. She needed to keep him here and talking.

      She shot out the first ammunition that came to mind. ‘Can’t handle being alone with a woman?’

      He stopped, then slowly turned. His grin was lopsided and shamelessly sexy. ‘That’s never been my problem.’

      Inventing an easy shrug, she moved towards the wet bar. ‘There’s always a first time.’

      He leant against the door, one long leg bent, his fingers gripping the rim near his head. ‘You look like a nice lady—’

      ‘I noticed you doing some looking earlier.’

      While her heart pogo-jumped in her chest—where had she found the nerve?—his hand fell from the jamb and he straightened. ‘I didn’t know you were Rodney’s daughter.’

      ‘That would’ve made a difference?’

      A muscle in the sharp angle of his jaw began to tic. ‘Perhaps.’

      Her hand barely shook as she refilled her glass from an opened bottle set in a shiny silver bucket. She crunched the Bollinger back into its ice. ‘Aside from being someone’s daughter, I also have a double business degree. I run a successful concern of my own—Celestial Bags and Accessories,’ she finished with a note of pride.

      With what looked like a straight Scotch in his hand, he sauntered closer, a naturally languid and predatory gait. ‘I’m suitably impressed.’

      ‘Because I’m a woman?’

      His eyes narrowed—amused or assessing? ‘Because of your age.’

      Good grief! She was tired of hearing about that too. Twenty-five was hardly a baby.

      ‘I’m a determined person.’ Gaining courage, she leant back against the polished oak bar. ‘When I want something, I don’t give in easily.’

      He cocked a brow and Celeste relaxed a smidgeon more. Her bluff appeared to be working.

      ‘And what is it that you want, Miss Prince?’

      She took a breath. Here goes. ‘I want to keep the family business in the family.’

      After a considering moment, he squared his shoulders. ‘We’re being frank?’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘Even if your father had thought to consider it, he wouldn’t give you control.’

      After the initial shock, she suppressed a growl. How dared he presume to know her family and their situation so well?

      She placed her crystal flute on the bar ledge. ‘It’s not over till it’s over, Mr Scott.’

      His blue gaze turned steely. ‘Your father’s company is in financial straits.’

      Her thoughts froze. That wasn’t possible. They were one of the leading franchise businesses in the country. Had been for a long time. Her father hadn’t had any financial problems since before her mother had died.

      Benton Scott’s voice penetrated the fog. ‘Your father didn’t want to worry you with it.’

      I just bet he didn’t.

      She absently moved towards the open concertina doors as a wave of dread fell through her. But even if the company were in trouble, that wouldn’t change her mind. A dip in profitability only meant that her innovative ideas were needed now more than ever.

      But what did it mean to her hit man?

      She rotated back. ‘You’re a successful investor. What do you want with a failing business?’ Her stomach gripped as an answer dawned. ‘Unless it’s to sell off the assets.’

      ‘I’m not a corporate raider. I see this company as a perfect opportunity to mix business with pleasure. Gambling on the stock market has been lucrative. But I want a business I can get involved with—pardon the pun—from the ground up.’

      She studied him, from the top of his coal-black hair to the tips of his polished-Italian-leather shoes. Was she getting this right? ‘You want to mow lawns and drive trucks?’

      ‘As a matter of fact, when time permits, yes, I do. This company needs tender loving care for it to survive.’

      She sent a dry look. ‘And you’re an expert on TLC?’

      ‘In the right circumstances—’ his gaze licked her lips ‘—absolutely.’

      The tips of her breasts tightened as if he’d brushed each bead with the pad of his thumb. What could he do with a graze of his mouth, or the tickling tip of his tongue?

      She СКАЧАТЬ