By Request Collection Part 2. Natalie Anderson
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her hips.
She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let him get to her, she determined as she slipped on her blouse and came through into her office to jot down a reminder to herself of a dental appointment that had almost slipped her mind. She couldn’t help wondering what he would say if he ever found out that there had been repercussions from their love-making all those years ago. What he would think—that it had been her comeuppance for the appalling way in which she had behaved?
Fumbling with the top fastening of her blouse, she shuddered from the thought of how he might gloat. She was glad that he didn’t know and would never know all that she had been through. Then she looked up, startled, her eyes dark and enormous, to see him striding into her office.
‘Don’t you ever knock?’ she challenged, flustered, still trying to fasten her blouse which was gaping open, revealing too much of her creamy breasts in their black lacy cups.
‘The door was open.’ He looked as shocked and surprised as she was to see him, while his eyes skimmed with barely veiled masculine interest over her state of undress. ‘Anyway, I thought you’d gone home.’
‘Because you ordered me to?’ She couldn’t seem to give him any leeway, even if she wanted to.
‘Advised,’ he corrected. ‘Not ordered.’
‘And leave my customers and all the people who depended on my grandfather and now me in the hands of…of…’
‘The enemy?’ he supplied mockingly when she couldn’t think of a word strong enough to describe him.
She chose to ignore his remark and his coldly sardonic smile, relieved that she had finally managed to slip the top button of her blouse securely into place.
‘What did you want?’ she demanded, more ungraciously than she had intended, because the way he was looking at her made every betraying little cell in her body react to him in a way she wasn’t at all happy about.
‘The last five years’ trading figures. Perhaps you could look them out for me, since you’re here.’
She swept over to the desk, jotting down the appointment in her diary with hands that shook. ‘Perhaps you could look them out for yourself since you’ve obviously given yourself licence to everything else in this building.’
‘Not quite everything, Grace.’ The way his eyes swept over her body needed no interpretation. ‘Not yet.’
She stood facing him, trembling with anger and frustration at his audacity. How could he even think he could say such things to her, let alone imagine that she would gladly leap into his bed? Though she was certain most women would. But, while she was battling to find a suitably cutting response, he said, clearly aware, ‘Are you going to fight me every step of the way?’
It was suddenly painful to swallow. Pulling herself up to her full height, which in her stocking-clad feet still left her well short of his six-feet-plus inches, she replied, ‘If I have to.’
‘That isn’t very sensible.’
‘Well, no. We both know I’m rather lacking in that department, don’t we? Or, rather, I used to be,’ she tagged on pointedly. One thing she had learnt from that encounter with him was wisdom, if nothing else.
‘Really?’ A masculine eyebrow cocked in disdainful speculation. ‘And I’ve always believed I was the one lacking judgement in that regard.’
His tone, with his opinion of the fickle creature she had been, still had the power to flay. But if he thought making love to her had been an error of judgement on his part, then it must have meant something more to him than just a feather in his cap, as he’d claimed that day outside the bank, mustn’t it? Grace reasoned wildly. She did not want to dwell on the fact that it was only her actions, and subsequently her grandfather’s in getting Seth dismissed from his job, that had fuelled his determination to make the Culverwells pay.
‘I think it only fair to warn you, Grace,’ he said, his next words emphasising that determination, ‘That if you continue to fight me then it’ll be a fight you’re going to lose. I can turn this company’s fortunes around or I can break up Culverwell’s piece by piece and sell off the most profitable areas at considerable loss to yourself and all those people you claim so depend on you. It’s your choice.’
There was no point arguing with him. He was clearly wealthy and powerful enough to do exactly as he said by stripping the company of its assets. And where would she—and a lot of people who would lose their jobs because of it—be then?
Walking purposefully over to the bank of cabinets on the far wall, she opened a drawer and pulled out the file he had requested before propelling the usually smooth-gliding drawer back hard on its runners.
‘There.’ Ignoring the masculine hand waiting to take it from her, she tossed the heavy file down onto the desk in front of him. ‘Is there anything else you’ll be requiring…sir?’
Thick black lashes came down over steely eyes as he moved to pick up the file. ‘Just for you to control your temper,’ he said. ‘Much as I’m not wholly averse to a fiery nature in a woman, I much prefer it if she keeps such loss of control confined to bed.’
‘That’s just the sort of sexist comment I’d expect from you,’ she flung at his broad back, because he was already heading for the door.
He turned as he reached it, his immaculately clad free arm lifting to the doorjamb. He was the hard-hitting executive, all flippancy gone.
‘I’ve called an emergency meeting of all the major shareholders at two o’clock this afternoon. If you care as much about this company as you say you do, you’ll be there.’
Then he was gone, leaving her staring after him in angry frustration, a knot of tension tightening way down inside her from his remark about being in bed.
Seth leaned back against the mirrored wall and closed his eyes as the lift doors came together behind him.
She’d looked so bleak in there when he had surprised her walking into that office, almost hollow-eyed, he thought. He wondered if there was more behind that lovely face and body of hers than just a fear of losing the lifestyle she was clearly used to if he took it on himself to get rid of her. Perhaps she had changed from the spoilt little rich bitch it had been his misfortune to get involved with, the girl he’d often read about with interest in the tabloid press. She had seemed genuinely shocked when he had told her how Lance Culverwell had been responsible for him losing his job.
But don’t be fooled, he warned himself, in danger of finding himself being charmed by her femininity. She would eat a man for breakfast and spit him out again without turning a hair.
He couldn’t help wondering, if he was honest with himself, if he hadn’t seduced her all those years ago just to prove something to himself, as he’d let her believe. But, no; she had been utterly desirable. Just thinking about her then, and being faced with the reality of just how beautiful and even more desirable she was now, made him realise that he had never wanted anyone so much as he’d wanted Grace Tyler—then or now!
Over the years he had managed to achieve everything he had set out to and that he had worked for. His architectural studies had made him a natural in a profession he had striven to reach, a lucky break had taken him into full-blown developments and now he had everything he wanted: Money. Cars. Women. Power. And Culverwells. There was only one thing left to make his achievements complete and that was Grace Tyler. She belonged in his bed, whether she liked it or not. And he meant to have her—with or without her liking him, if that was the way it had to be.
But she still wanted him. He’d have had to be blind not to notice that betraying little flutter in her throat whenever he came within touching distance of her, the flushed cheeks and dilated pupils in the centre of her huge, man-drowning blue eyes. She still wanted him, as much as he wanted her—if that were possible—and he wasn’t going to rest until her lovely legs were wrapped around him again and she was lying there beneath him, sobbing out his name.