Modern Romance October 2016 Books 5-8. Kate Walker

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      She’d found it easy to dissociate, not to engage, because no one had ever broken down the walls she’d erected...until now. The galling reality that she could be as susceptible to heartbreak as her father after years of avoiding it made her feel nauseous.

      Ben would see through her in an instant—see all her weaknesses. And, worse, possibly even see that flicker of hope. The part of her that wasn’t half as cool and collected as she’d always thought she was. Impervious to fickle emotions.

      Lia slid out of the bed, making not a sound. Ben moved minutely, frowning in his sleep, but then he relaxed again, and her heart pounded with a mixture of panic and desperation.

      Benjamin Carter had somehow managed to slide under her skin enough to make her realise that all the foundations she’d worked so hard to build up were far shakier than she liked to admit. And that was enough to drive Lia as far away from this man as she could go.

      * * *

      The following morning Ben padded through the villa in a pair of hastily pulled on shorts with an uncomfortable feeling of foreboding prickling along his skin. He’d woken shortly before to find the space beside him in bed empty. And Lia hadn’t been in the bathroom.

      When he’d woken, at first he’d registered a deeper feeling of satisfaction than he’d ever felt before. A memory had surfaced: after they’d made love again last night Lia had been draped over his body, her head in the crook between his head and neck, her body a deliciously curved and pliant weight on his.

      He’d stroked his hand up and down her back and said gruffly, ‘See? I told you... It’s nothing to do with experience. We fit.’

      She’d made a huffing noise into his skin, clearly too exhausted to speak. And Ben had smiled...before falling asleep and waking to find her gone.

      Ben didn’t usually wake with the expectation of finding a woman in his bed—he preferred to keep that boundary firmly intact—but it hadn’t even entered his head with Lia.

      He frowned now, when he saw she wasn’t in the main living area, but still wasn’t unduly concerned. She had to be here somewhere.

      For the first time in days, since he’d first laid eyes on her, Ben’s head was feeling clear again. He’d known he wanted her, but he hadn’t expected their chemistry to be so explosive. And when he found her he was going to convince her to stay another day... He was going to woo her and persuade her to consider marriage—because if she’d considered it once before she’d have to be open to the option again—in spite of the way it had turned out. Clearly it meant a lot to her father, and he obviously meant a lot to her.

      Lia Ford was not the one-dimensional person he had believed her to be at the very start. She was bright, sharp, compassionate, passionate.

      He thought about how he’d felt claustrophobic when the idea of taking a wife had first been mentioned to him...how he’d felt when he’d sat down to discuss it with the Sheikh and the others. But now the prospect of making Lia Ford his wife appealed to Ben in a way that he hadn’t ever thought it would.

      He realised that he’d seriously underestimated how much a woman like Lia could contribute to his life. They had ideals and goals in common. The more he thought about it, the less he felt inclined to take a wife who would just be meek and biddable. He wanted someone with fire, and Lia had that in spades. She was spirited and unafraid to stand up to him, and he liked that.

      And for the first time he even found himself thinking of children. Of what it would be like to have a son or a daughter. Something in Ben’s chest grew tight at the thought of a small dark-haired child with sparkling blue eyes running around.

      He’d never allowed himself to contemplate it before, because his own experience of watching his parents crumble so catastrophically under the strain of their lives self-destructing had scarred him enough to never want to risk subjecting any child of his to that.

      But now he felt he could consider it for the first time. A woman like Lia would never crumble. She would get up and start again. Their marriage would be nothing like his parents’—falling apart like a flimsy structure at the first inkling of trouble.

      Ben was in the kitchen now, but that too was empty. He ignored his growing unease and the fact that the villa was too quiet. As much as he admired Lia’s independence, and the fact that she obviously wasn’t one of those women who liked to cling like an octopus the morning after, he just wanted to find her now.

      A sense of relief hit him when he thought of the beach—of course she’d be there. But when he walked out onto the pristine sand, he saw that his stretch of private beach was empty. No supple pale body was lying out under an umbrella.

      He heard a sound and whirled around, but it was just Esmé, carrying flowers into the villa. She called out sunnily, ‘Morning, Boss. You slept late—not like you at all.’

      Ben felt like scowling at the reminder that last night had made its mark, but he forced a smile, following Esmé back into the villa. ‘Have you seen Lia?’

      She whirled around, frowning. ‘You don’t know?’

      Ben was seriously struggling to hold his irritation in. ‘Know what?’

      Esmé put the exotic blooms carefully on a table, her face a picture of quizzical innocence. ‘She left early this morning. When Joao dropped me off, she got a lift with him back into Salvador. She said she had to take the first flight to New York today, then get back to the UK. I presumed you knew... She said she didn’t want to wake you and left you a note. I put it in your office.’

      As Ben watched Esmé start to put the blooms in a large vase on the table in the centre of the hall he felt something wide and uncomfortable open up in his chest. And sheer incomprehension. No woman ever walked away from him. But this one had. Twice now.

      He turned before Esmé could make anything of his reaction, went to his office and saw the folded-over note with ‘Ben’ written on it in a very feminine script. He opened it to read.

      Dear Ben,

      Thank you again for your kind donation to the charity. I think after last night the terms of the bid are well and truly fulfilled. After all, this was never going to go beyond the weekend, was it?

      I’ve enjoyed my time here in Bahia—thank you. I doubt I’ll run into you again.

      Best wishes,

      Lia Ford.

      The chasm opening up in Ben’s chest snapped shut suddenly and became a hard, heavy weight. The insinuation that she’d slept with him more to fulfil the terms of the bid and less because she’d wanted to was not welcome.

      He crushed the piece of paper in his hands as something broke the heavy weight apart—anger.

      He’d underestimated her—again. But she’d underestimated him if she thought that she wouldn’t run into him again. He was going to make very sure that she did run into him again—and this time she would not be running away. Because she was perfect for him. And no way was he letting her, or this opportunity, slip out of his grasp.

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