The Bedroom Surrender. Emma Darcy

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СКАЧАТЬ see her on the social circuit. She’s not into partying.’ Tahlia slanted him a knowing look. ‘Not your kind of woman, Adam.’

      ‘No,’ he agreed.

      And they walked on to the bar.

      But the image of Rosalie James lingered in his mind, indelibly printed there, a rarity that both annoyed and intrigued him. Why would such a beautiful woman spend all her leisure time do-gooding, not to mention pouring all she earned into it? What drove her?

      Adam knew he was a born achiever. Building up successful businesses had always given him a buzz, though he grew bored with them once they were flying high. His latest challenge was getting a new airline off the ground and he was aiming to organise cheap flights to South-East Asia, scouting the possibilities while ostensibly on this pleasure trip.

      To his mind, Cambodia had a lot to offer tourists. Here in Phnom Penh, the Royal Palace and the Silver Pagoda with its fabulous Buddhas—one encrusted with over nine thousand diamonds, another in Baccarat crystal—held so many unbelievable treasures, it was mind-boggling. And seeing Angkor Wat today—that amazing complex of temples built in the twelfth century—definitely one of the wonders of the world, well worth the trip.

      He’d brought a few of his company executives and their women with him, and when he and Tahlia arrived in the Elephant Bar, they were there, still raving over what they’d seen at Angkor Wat. Adam left Tahlia with them and went to the bar to order drinks.

      ‘A group of children entered the hotel just now,’ he remarked to the barman. ‘What are they doing here?’

      ‘They’ve come to sing for the tour group having dinner around the swimming pool this evening. A raffle is being held out there, the proceeds to go to their orphanage. Their little concert is by way of a thank-you. Miss James organised it.’

      ‘You know this Miss James?’

      The barman nodded and smiled. ‘The kids call her the angel. Sings like one, too. She does a lot of good here for the orphans.’

      Adam frowned. The angel. He hadn’t seen her as some kind of ethereal being. Her impact on him had been very physical. Sensual. Sexual. Which made it all the more frustrating that she hadn’t been aware of his presence. No recognition of who he was, either. Not even when she had acknowledged Tahlia’s call had she bothered to show any curiosity about her fellow model’s escort.

      What kind of woman didn’t notice such things?

      Most of the women he knew were like butterflies, instinctively seeking the sweet nectar of money. Like Tahlia, a top-line model herself, happy to be along for the ride for as long as it lasted. He wasn’t particularly cynical about his wealth being a powerful drawcard, regarding it as the natural order of things. He enjoyed having the best-looking women in the world in his company, just as they enjoyed the high life he could provide.

      It was something he took so much for granted that one more beautiful woman shouldn’t have mattered one way or another. Except…being ignored had got under his skin, especially being ignored when he’d wanted to impress as strongly as he’d been impressed. A passing vexation, he told himself. Rosalie James lived on a different planet to the one he occupied. Pursuing her would be absurd. Non-productive. Clearly in her world, do-gooding had priority over…sinful pleasures.

      He tried to block her out of his mind, chatting to his executives about the viability of establishing a Saturn Airline service to Cambodia. But when they moved from the bar to go to the dining room, he heard the singing begin. Her voice—it had to be hers—was delivering the verse of a very melodic song in a clear pure tone, perfect pitch…angelic.

      None of the recording artists he’d signed for Saturn Records in years gone by had ever come close to having a voice like that. It sent a shiver down his spine. Rosalie James could have been a star in the music world. Still could. With her looks, her talent…

      Then the children came in on the chorus, singing with more gusto than musicality, belting out their words at the top of their voices, almost drowning hers out.

      Forget her, Adam savagely told himself.

      He’d sold off the record company to fund the airline.

      There was absolutely no profit in forcing an acquaintance with Rosalie James, either on a personal or business level.

      Six months later Adam Cazell saw her again.

      And was once more transfixed by her beauty.

      He was at the Met in New York. It was the opening night of Puccini’s Turandot. Adam was not a big fan of opera but he’d been hooked into attending this premiere—the proceeds to go to charity—by his latest lady, Sacha Rivken, who loved glittery theatrical events that promised lots of celebrities in the limelight. Their affair was new enough for it still to be a pleasure to indulge her.

      Along with a festive party of jet-setting friends, they were seated in a corner box of the Grand Tier level of the famous Metropolitan Opera House, enjoying the buzzing atmosphere of a big night out. Sacha had positioned herself and Adam on the curve of the corner so she could more easily spot the most watchable people entering the two central boxes which directly faced the stage.

      The far box was filled first. Sacha was speculating over who might occupy the adjoining box when the awaited party arrived and a jolt of recognition hit him.

      Rosalie James…leading her companions into the front row of seats.

      The liquid black hair was coiled around the top of her head, baring a long, pale, swanlike neck, around which hung a fabulous necklace of rubies and diamonds.

      No sexless white tunic and black pants tonight. She wore a figure-hugging gown of dark red velvet—breasts, waist, hips, every feminine curve lovingly delineated to breathtaking effect. Little shoulder-cap sleeves swept into a low, heart-shaped neckline that revealed a tantalising hint of cleavage. Her carriage was regal. She looked regal. If she’d worn a tiara, she would have had people wondering what royal family had spawned her.

      As she took the end seat, she smiled up at the man about to settle beside her—a big man, his physique every bit a match for Adam’s, tall, powerfully built, his face showing a similar mature age, silver strands sprinkled through his chestnut hair, and he was smiling back at her as though they were sharing some very warm, intimate moment.

      Never in his life had Adam experienced jealousy, yet a violent black wave of it instantly crashed through him. If her escort could have been mentally zapped into irretrievable atoms, it would have been done in those few out of control seconds. She had given him space in her life—a man of the same physical mould as himself—and Adam felt cheated, wronged, every muscle in his body clenching in aggressive anger at this trick of Fate.

      ‘Oh! It’s Rosalie James!’ Sacha hissed exuberantly, delighted to have recognised the enigmatic top-line model. ‘And she’s wearing the show-stopper from this season’s Bellavanti collection. I bet it’s on loan for this premiere, getting more spotlight for the designer. And look at that necklace! On loan from Bergoff, for sure. Must be worth a fortune!’

      Not money spent on herself then, Adam swiftly reasoned, nor gifts from a lover, which was a matter of some relief though he didn’t stop to examine the cause of this relief. ‘Who’s the guy with her?’ he grated out, wanting some firm identification, a name that could tell him more about her choice.

      ‘Don’t know. Quite СКАЧАТЬ