The Dare Collection: February 2018. Anne Marsh

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      She cleared her throat. ‘Well, I hope you have yourself the best accountant over there at Able-Active. Not many start-up charities have such a large marketing budget.’

      Her personal services didn’t come cheap, no matter how attractive the man paying the check.

      ‘You let me worry about that. Can you start tomorrow?’

       Arrogant, presumptive asshole.

      ‘Mr Lancaster. Throwing money at me won’t change my mind.’

      If anything, it made her inclined to hang up. Unlike Mr Sexy Billionaire, she hadn’t lived a privileged childhood full of skiing holidays and the right private schools. Her daddy didn’t own a super-yacht—in fact, she didn’t have a daddy. Like her single parent mother, she’d worked hard every day for everything she had, and she appreciated every cent she spent—despite the designer clothes she wore and her top-of-the-range car. Frivolous was not a word in Libby’s vocabulary.

      ‘Well, what will change your mind?’

      His voice dropped to a sultry drawl. The one she imagined was his bedroom voice.

      Imagined or hoped?

      Had he asked her to work for his IT company she’d have already ended this conversation. Her eyes drifted over the images on the Able-Active website. Smiling faces…kids joyously experiencing the thrill and accomplishment of some outdoor adventure.

      ‘It’s very important to me, Olivia.’

      The way he spoke her name—her full name—as if it was their little secret.

      ‘Why?’ She whispered the request, as if the intimacy of his answer warranted such secrecy. Alex Lancaster—full of intriguing contradictions?

      ‘Personal reasons.’ The pitch of his voice lifted a fraction. ‘I had a sister.’

       Had?

      ‘Let me offer a sweetener.’

      He didn’t want to talk about his sister. This she understood. She had no-go areas in her past too.

      ‘Lancaster IT’s marketing contract is up for renewal in two months. If you help me out with Able-Active the contract is yours.’

      She gasped. ‘Regardless of how good my work is? That’s ridiculous.’

      Was he mad? How had he become so successful so young? Rash decisions and financial extravagance wouldn’t have cut it. She’d been right about him. Reckless.

      ‘Just do what you did for Kids Count and I’ll be happy.’

      Mmm… What would a happy Alex look like? Libby vacillated. Sonya was right. A high-profile account like his would shunt their company into the big league. Finally reward them for years of hard work. Surely she could control her startling attraction to him for long enough to get the job done and get out? And hadn’t she been hoping to attract new business while here in the UK? This was a dream scenario landing in her lap.

      Still she wavered.

      A compromise?

      ‘Perhaps Sonya could mock up some drafts and I’ll step in once she goes on maternity leave.’

      That made no sense. What was wrong with her? She flushed, knowing Sonya could hear the gibberish coming out of her mouth. Libby was here. Sonya was in New York and about to deliver her baby any day.

      ‘I want you.’

       Not fair.

      She closed her eyes as her overactive libido spun off into fantasyland, taking her pounding heart along for the ride. How would it feel to be the recipient of that bare statement in another time, another context? Would he give her what her body clearly craved? A couple of mind-blowing orgasms? Nothing more. Would she concede to his control, loosen the tight command she subjected every aspect of her own life to just for one blissful minute? Give him everything?

      She slowed her rapid breaths and mentally slapped herself. She was a hard-assed career woman. She employed twenty people, won lucrative contracts and industry awards. She didn’t crumble when faced with an attractive employer. No matter how intense his golden eyes or how sin-dipped his gravelly voice. And, these days, she never conceded control. It wasn’t worth the risk.

      But this made good business sense. A connection of this visibility would allow her to pick and choose Sonya’s stand-in. And by the time her friend returned from maternity leave they’d be ready to take on the world.

      She’d have to be careful. Despite her daydreams, a man like Alex would quickly take anything she gave.

      She sucked in a breath, confident in her abilities to handle him. Decided, she was all business.

      ‘I’ll have my assistant contact yours to make the arrangements.’ Libby lifted her chin, although she knew he couldn’t see the gesture.

      ‘I’ll have the contracts drawn up.’

      She could almost hear his victory grin slither down the phone line.

      ‘Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Lancaster.’

      She hung up, all the air leaving her in rush, one word lingering in her dry mouth. Pleasure. Would it be?

      When her face felt cooler to the touch, she turned back to her laptop screen and her colleagues.

      Their grins said it all.

      Damn. What had she done?

       CHAPTER TWO

      ALEX LANCASTER STOPPED the treadmill and reached for the towel he’d thrown over the handrail, using it to the wipe the sting of sweat from his eyes. He preferred to run in the Oxfordshire countryside, or along the banks of the River Thames. But on the nights when he stayed in the city his office treadmill just had to suffice. And today he needed to push himself twice as hard to outrun the restlessness.

      Despite his forty-minute workout, thoughts of the enigma that was Olivia Noble had dogged his every step.

      Briefly checking his phone for urgent messages, he clicked off the TV that dominated one wall of his spacious office, silencing the business news, and headed for the en-suite shower.

      Alex ducked his head under the pounding spray, ignoring the flicker of interest from his cock—a renewed flicker brought on by the curvy, sophisticated brunette. He’d admired her enough from afar, but in person she’d blown him away. Sassy, shrewd, cutting through his bullshit, as she’d no doubt call it.

      He closed his eyes, recalling the sexy timbre of her husky voice. She spoke as if she had a bad case of laryngitis or a lifelong smoking habit. She didn’t have either. He’d scoured every detail he could find about her on the internet, filling in the blanks with his vivid, slightly perverted imagination.

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