His Unknown Heir. Chantelle Shaw
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studied Lauren in a leisurely appraisal, frowning slightly as he felt his body’s involuntary response to her. His arousal was instant and embarrassingly hard. He was not a testosterone-fuelled youth, he reminded himself, irritated to discover that his desire for her had not lessened in the year and a half since he had last seen her.
She was wearing the scarlet suit she had worn the night she had abruptly ended their relationship—although today she had teamed it with a demure white blouse rather than the black silk bustier that had displayed her breasts like plump velvety peaches. Her close-fitting jacket showed off her slim waist, while her pencil-skirt moulded her hips and stopped several inches above her knees to reveal long slender legs in sheer hose. Black patent stiletto heels added another three inches to her height and made her legs seem even longer—he wondered if she still liked to wear stockings.
He inhaled swiftly, and tore his eyes and his over-active imagination away from her legs. Her face was attractive, rather than pretty, oval in shape, with creamy skin, intelligent grey eyes beneath hazel brows. Her dark honey-blonde was hair swept up into a chignon.
What was it about this woman that he found such a turn-on? Ramon wondered irritably. He had dated some of the world’s most beautiful women—actresses and models whose looks were their fortune. Only this graceful English rose had taken him to the edge of sexual insanity.
The passion they had shared had been mind-blowing—the best he’d ever known. Although he had refused to admit the intensity of his need for her during their affair. The last eighteen months had passed swiftly—his father’s illness and subsequent death had been followed by a period of mourning, while at the same time he had taken his place at the head of the company, endeavouring to please shareholders and trying to comfort his mother and sisters. There had been little time for introspection, yet memories of Lauren—the silky softness of her hair, her taut, slender body, the soft cries she let out when he made love to her—had continued to invade his mind.
She had become a thorn in his flesh, he acknowledged grimly. A persistent ache that he had put down to sexual frustration but which, for some reason, he had been unable to assuage with other women. Now he was back in London to oversee a business project—but it was also an ideal opportunity to discover if his lingering sexual attraction to his ex-mistress was real, or a memory that he should have dismissed from his mind months ago.
‘Please have a seat, Ramon. I know you have a tight schedule, and we have plenty to discuss.’ Alistair Gambrill’s voice sliced through the aching silence, although the man seemed unaware of the tension in the room.
Lauren tried to pull her hand free from Ramon’s grasp, but he retained his hold for few more seconds, his eyes narrowing on her flushed face before he finally released her.
He already had his answer, Ramon brooded. His desire for Lauren was not imagined. In fact his imagination was enjoying a highly erotic fantasy in which they were alone in the office and she was spread across the desk, with her skirt rucked up around her waist and her long, shapely legs wrapped around him.
Eighteen months ago he had been furious when she had walked out on him, and had vowed to dismiss her from his mind. But he had been unable to forget her. There was still unfinished business between them. The flare of emotion in her eyes when she had first entered Alistair Gambrill’s office, and the slight tremble of her hand when she had placed it in his were evidence that she was not as immune to him as her cool smile would have him believe.
Lauren’s legs were trembling as the shock of Ramon’s unexpected appearance seeped through her, and she sank weakly onto the chair next to him. She had no idea why Alistair had summoned her to meet this new client, but while she was trying to guess the reason the senior lawyer cleared his throat.
‘I have studied your remit, Ramon, and it all seems straightforward. As I understand it, Velaquez Conglomerates are looking to purchase a number of suitable commercial properties in London, with the intention of applying for planning permission to run these establishments as wine bars.’
Ramon nodded. ‘That’s correct. I would like to open two, maybe three bars here in the capital. I already have a shortlist of potential properties suggested by estate agents, and what I require is a commercial property lawyer who will work exclusively on this project and who has additional expertise in planning and development laws.’
He turned his head and looked directly at Lauren, his predatory smile reminding her of a wolf stalking its prey. ‘Put simply, I need you, Lauren. I understand that you have specialised particularly in Town and Country planning matters, and I believe you are best suited to advise me on any potential problems with the properties I am interested in.’
She gaped at him, her mind reeling in horror as it sank in that he seemed to be suggesting that he wanted her to work for him. ‘There are several other commercial property lawyers at PGH who are more qualified and experienced than I am—and who I am sure would suit your requirements b-better,’ she stammered quickly, glancing frantically at Alistair for confirmation.
Ramon’s eyes narrowed on her flushed face. ‘I have read the reports on your recent assignments and I am impressed by your work,’ he said coolly. ‘I also noted on your CV that you studied Spanish and speak it fluently, which would be additionally useful,’ he added, the gleam in his eyes telling her that he had been aware before he had read her CV that she could speak his language.
He turned back to Alistair Gambrill before she could comment. ‘I understand that PGH promote a service whereby Lauren could be seconded to Velaquez Conglomerates to give personalised in-house legal advice until the project is completed?’
Alistair nodded enthusiastically. ‘That is certainly possible. The in-house legal practice offered by our company is fairly unique, and enables companies such as your own to access specialist lawyers without having to employ their own full-time solicitor.’
‘So in effect Lauren would be working directly for Velaquez Conglomerates until the project is finalised?’ Ramon queried. ‘Can I take it you would be happy with that, Lauren?’
This time there was no mistaking the predatory nature of his smile; the hard gleam in his eyes told her that he could read her mind.
Apprehension churned in the pit of her stomach. No, she damned well would not be happy, she wanted to cry. How could she work for him, spend hours every day with him, and manage to keep Matty a secret from him? Once again she felt a desperate urge to flee, to run out of the office and keep on running. But if she did that she was highly likely to lose her job, her only means of supporting her son, and so she remained in her chair and knotted her trembling fingers together as Alistair spoke.
‘I have no doubt that you will find Lauren a dedicated and hard-working employee who will do her utmost to please you.’
‘That’s good to hear.’ The wolfish smile widened, and despite her tension the wicked glint in Ramon’s eyes sent heat coursing through Lauren’s veins.
Utterly dismayed by her reaction to him, she did not trust herself to speak. But inside she felt sick with panic. She would have to speak to Alistair privately later, she decided frantically. But what excuse could she give for not wanting to work for an influential new client? For now at least she would have to go along with it.
‘I will certainly do my best to ensure that all transactions are completed as smoothly and quickly as possible,’ she said coolly.
‘Good.’ Ramon smiled, showing his white teeth, and Lauren felt a sharp pain, as if she had been kicked in the ribs. Missing him had become a part of her life, a persistent ache in her chest, and she quickly compressed her lips to disguise their betraying quiver.
‘I hope to open at least one wine bar this summer,’ he continued, his eyes fixed intently on her, ‘which is why I want you to give your exclusive attention to this project. We will need to liaise on a daily basis, and an office will be made available for you at my London headquarters.’
‘Oh, but…’ This time she refused to keep silent, despite Alistair’s warning frown. ‘I think it would be better if I remained here at PGH. I’m