The Dare Collection: February 2018. Anne Marsh

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      It really had been too long…

      Free from his touch, she regained her composure, her intellect wrestling it free from the clutches of her hormone-riddled body.

      ‘I see. I’m sorry I can’t return the compliment. I missed your talk.’

      And she’d never worked for any IT giant. Why would she have crossed his radar?

      Still looking at her as if his X-ray vision had burned holes through her clothing down to her lacy underwear, he shrugged one large shoulder.

      His charcoal-grey suit encased his frame like a glove. She’d bet her beloved cat, Dumbledore, that it was cashmere—probably bespoke Savile Row. A copper-coloured tie brought out those ridiculous sparks of fire in his eyes and highlighted his decadent, cry-worthy black lashes.

      Libby curled her fingers into her palms to stop herself fanning her flushed face.

      Back to her escape plan.

      As if anticipating her, he stepped sideways, facing her full-on, his broad chest eclipsing her vision. ‘I’m glad I met you today. I’d like your professional advice, actually.’

      He took another sip of wine, his bold stare raking her face and dipping to her throat. If he’d gone any lower this conversation would be over, regardless of his pretty face and intriguing request.

      ‘Perhaps we could sit together…discuss it over lunch?’ Then came the eyebrow lift. Perfectly executed, devastatingly tempting.

      Had her body not reacted so overwhelmingly towards him, she might have agreed. The company he’d founded in his late teens, Lancaster IT, had gone global in recent years, with sales of its software to the Asian healthcare market shunting its drool-worthy founder and CEO from wealthy to obscene. Any business association her marketing company might have with the new IT giant making international waves would surely provide her with the kudos she needed to take her own business to the next level.

      But she abhorred arrogance. Alex Lancaster was not only renowned for fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants business decisions that left wiser, more experienced competitors shaking in their hand-stitched Oxfords, but his personal life was equally reckless. Just thinking about this daredevil playboy’s antics brought her out in an icy chill.

      She demurred—after all, he was incredibly influential. ‘I’m flattered. If you ask your assistant to call mine, I’m sure we can set something up.’

      She took an embossed business card from her purse and passed it to him, careful to keep her fingertips away from the thrill of his.

      ‘Although my personal client workload at present has me a little over-committed.’

      What was she saying? This was a dream scenario for her small but growing business. Was she palming off an account of this magnitude on to one of her juniors? Seriously? All because he was twice as hot in person, made her thighs tremble and soaked her expensive lingerie—her one indulgence.

      He flipped the card between his fingers in a continuous hypnotic loop of digital gymnastics. Mesmerising. What else could he do with those talented fingers?

      Libby dragged her gaze away. His sexy stare was back. Pinning her heels to the carpet. Normally she tolerated awkward silences, especially in business settings. But he rocked her cool composure.

      ‘It—It’s all there…on my website.’ Babbling. A successful twenty-eight-year-old businesswoman with a master’s degree in marketing was babbling.

      He didn’t once glance at the card, which still tumbled lazily between his long, tanned fingers. ‘I’d really like your personal input. You’ve done wonders for Kids Count.’

      Why would her work for a small US charity interest him? Although it had landed her a prestigious industry award.

      His lips caressed his wine glass, his eyes watching her over the rim. ‘I’m involved with a charity too.’

      He tucked the card into the inside pocket of his jacket, close to his chest.

      The gesture, strangely intimate, made heat pool low in her belly. She definitely needed to get laid.

      Tonight.

      ‘I’m willing to pay.’

      His talk of payment sealed the deal. ‘I’m sorry.’

      Heralding from one of the UK’s most affluent families, and growing up in the family business, he had founded his first company on a ten thousand pound loan from his businessman father.

      Well, some things weren’t for sale.

      No doubt he was used to getting everything he wanted. Calling the shots. Bossing people around. Well, not this chick.

      Liar. He could boss her around in the bedroom any time.

      ‘I’d be happy to connect you with Sonya, my top marketing executive and business partner—although she’s soon to go on maternity leave so I suggest you get in quick.’

      No way could she work personally with this man. Not after a simple glance across a room and a professional, perfectly polite handshake had triggered a full-blown hormone implosion. Images of them tangled in the crisp white sheets of her king-sized hotel bed rocked her back on her heels. Would he be as demanding in the bedroom? And would she concede, give him what he wanted? She could make a few sexual demands of her own…

      The tip of his tongue traced along his lower lip—a snake-charming manoeuvre that held her gaze captive for long, silent seconds. She shook her head, dragging her eyes away.

      Her libidinous thoughts stunned her. Perhaps he’d doused himself in genetically modified pheromones?

      Time to get away from him and his unsettling magnetism.

      ‘Nice to meet you.’ Libby abandoned polite convention and kept her hand by her side. Best not to touch him again in case she needed to rush to the bathroom and put herself out of her own misery.

      As if he knew her thoughts, he let a half grin dance on his twisted mouth. His chin lifted, lazy eyes raking her. ‘The pleasure was all mine, Olivia.’

      He delivered her name with a cut-crystal English accent and a side helping of gravel that spoke directly to all her wide-awake lady parts.

      Libby winced, wishing her laptop’s webcam would explode.

      ‘You said what? Are you crazy?’ Sonya rubbed her rounded belly, twisting on the sofa and putting her feet up on the low coffee table in Libby’s New York office.

      This video call and the five-hour time difference between New York and London meant her right-hand woman was taking her lunch break, relaxing on Libby’s sofa. Apparently it was more comfortable than the sofa in Sonya’s office—although Libby suspected her friend just missed having her to bounce ideas off. They were a great team. More than that.

      Sonya’s face filled the screen as she leaned forward, peering through cyberspace. ‘I can’t possibly do that account justice in the time I have left.’ She flopped back on the cushions, as if the act СКАЧАТЬ