The Husband Assignment. Helen Bianchin

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СКАЧАТЬ and she’d take the stairs. Almost on command, the doors slid open, four people emerged and Stephanie stepped into the cubicle, then turned toward the control panel.

      Only to freeze at the sight of Raoul Lanier on the verge of entering the lift.

      ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she managed to ask in a furious undertone.

      ‘Accompanying you down to your car.’ He reached forward and depressed the button designating the car park.

      An action which galvanized Stephanie into jabbing the button that held the doors open. ‘Something that’s totally unnecessary. Get out.’

      He didn’t answer. Instead he leaned forward, captured both her hands and held them firmly while he depressed the appropriate button.

      Stephanie wrenched against his grasp in an attempt to get free, without success, and she watched with mounting anger as the doors slid closed and the lift began to descend.

      ‘Let go of me.’ Her voice was as cool as an arctic floe.

      ‘When the lift reaches the car park,’ Raoul drawled imperturbably.

      ‘You are the most arrogant, insolent, insufferable man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.’

      ‘Really? I’m flattered. I expected at least ten damning descriptions.’

      ‘Give me a few seconds,’ she threatened darkly.

      She was supremely conscious of him, his physical height and breadth, the aura of power he exuded, and this close his choice of cologne teased her senses, notwithstanding the essence of the man and the electric tension evident between them.

      The heightened sensuality was almost a tangible entity, powerful, primeval, riveting. It made her afraid. Not only of him, but herself and the long dormant emotions she’d deliberately tamped down for four years.

      The lift came to a smooth halt, and she wrenched her hands free, then exited the cubicle the instant the doors slid open.

      ‘Where is your car?’

      She began walking toward the glass doors that led to the car park. ‘There’s no need to play the gentleman. The area is well-lit.’

      She may as well have not spoken, and she drew in a deep breath, releasing it slowly as she deliberately ignored him and increased her pace.

      It took only minutes to reach her car, and she extracted her keys, unlocked the door, then stilled as a hand prevented her from sliding in behind the wheel.

      ‘Whatever you’re thinking of doing,’ she said tightly, searing him with a look that would have felled a lesser man. ‘Don’t.’

      ‘I was going to offer an apology.’

      ‘For initiating an unnecessary social occasion in the guise of business, then conducting a deliberate game of cat and mouse with me?’ Her tone was deceptively soft, but her eyes resembled crystalline sapphire. ‘An apology is merely words, Mr. Lanier, and I find your manner unacceptable.’ She looked pointedly at his hand. ‘You have three seconds to walk away. Otherwise I’ll alert security.’

      ‘And request you rejoin me at dinner,’ he continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

      ‘I’m no longer hungry, I don’t like you, and—’ she paused fractionally, and aimed for the kill ‘—the last thing I want to do is spend another minute in your company. Is that clear?’

      Raoul inclined his head in mocking acceptance. ‘Perfectly.’ He attended to the clasp and held open the door. ‘Au revoir.’

      Stephanie slid in behind the wheel, inserted the key into the ignition and fired the engine. ‘Goodbye.’

      The instant he closed the door she reversed out of the parking bay, then without sparing him a glance she drove toward the exit.

      Minutes later she joined the flow of traffic traveling toward the center of town, and it wasn’t until she’d cleared the three major intersections that she allowed herself to reflect on the scene in the hotel car park.

      She’d managed to have the last word, but somehow she had the feeling Raoul Lanier had deliberately contrived his apparent defeat. And that annoyed the heck out of her!

      ‘You’re home early,’ Sarah said with surprise when Stephanie entered the house just before nine.

      ‘Everything all right?’ Stephanie asked as she placed her bag down onto the table, and began removing her earrings.

      ‘Fine. Emma is never any trouble. She had a glass of milk at seven-thirty, and went to bed without a murmur.’

      She looked at the textbooks laid out on the table, the empty coffee mug. ‘Another coffee? I’m making myself some.’

      Sarah stood, closed and stacked her books, then slid them into a soft briefcase. ‘Thanks, but I’ll take a rain check.’

      ‘I appreciate your coming over at such short notice.’

      ‘It’s a pleasure,’ the baby-sitter declared warmly. ‘You have a lovely quiet house, perfect study conditions.’ She grinned, then rolled her eyes expressively. ‘Two teenage brothers tend to make a lot of noise.’

      Stephanie extracted some bills from her purse and pressed them into the girl’s hand. ‘Thanks, Sarah. Good luck with the exams.’

      She saw her out the door, then she locked up and went to check on Emma.

      The child was sleeping, her expression peaceful as she clutched a favorite rag doll to her chest. Stephanie leaned down and adjusted the covers, then lightly pushed back a stray lock of hair that had fallen forward onto one soft cheek.

      The tug of unconditional love consumed her. Nothing, nothing was as wonderful as the gift of a child. Emma’s happiness and well-being was worth any sacrifice. A stressful job, the need to present cutting-edge marketing strategy, estimating consumer appeal and ensuring each project was a winner.

      The necessity, she added wryly, to occasionally entertain outside conventional business hours. She was familiar with an entire range of personality traits. In her line of business, she came into contact with them all.

      Yet no man had managed to get beneath her skin the way Raoul Lanier did. She dealt with men who’d made flirting an art form. Men who imagined wealth condoned dubious behavior and an appalling lack of manners. Then there were those who had so many tickets on themselves they no longer knew who they were.

      She’d handled each and every one of them with tact and diplomacy. Even charm. None of which qualities were evident in the presence of a certain Frenchman.

      He unsettled her. Far too much for her own liking. She didn’t want to feel insecure and vulnerable. She’d tread that path once before. She had no intention of retracing her steps.

      Stephanie entered the main bedroom, carefully removed her dress and slipped off her shoes, then she cleansed her face free of makeup, stripped off her underwear and donned a long cotton T-shirt before returning to collect her mug of coffee and sink into a deep-cushioned chair in front of the television.

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