Caught On Camera With The Ceo Page 7

  He really shouldn’t have taken her back there.

  His phone rang, he glanced at the caller ID and congratulated himself on programming Patrick’s mobile number in, because, nope, he was not answering. Alex wasn’t ready to talk to him—maybe wouldn’t ever be. What did the man expect—that he could back walk into his life, say, ‘Hey, by the way, I’m your father, let’s be friends.’ As far as Alex was concerned, Patrick could stay in Singapore, where he had his luxury pad, a zillion servants and even more women. And if his conscience had started to prick him, too bad. Alex had no intention of making it easy for him. He took in a deep breath. He was too angry and he’d really rather channel that energy elsewhere.

  He toyed with his pen and wondered what she was doing. He didn’t like not being able to check on her. But Lorenzo could. Alex tossed the pen down as he realised he didn’t like that, either. Lorenzo was a good-looking guy. Lorenzo liked women. And they liked him more.

  He picked up the phone. His buddy-suddenly-turnednemesis answered after one ring.

  ‘How’s she doing?’ Alex skipped the preliminaries.

  ‘I don’t know. Fine, I’m sure.’

  Alex frowned and spun his chair to look out the window—he could see the warehouse in the distance. ‘Haven’t you been to check?’

  ‘I’ve got work to do so, no, I haven’t. Do you want me to put you through to her phone?’

  ‘No.’ Silence. But Alex couldn’t let it go yet. ‘Why haven’t you been to check?’

  ‘What do you think I am—stupid?’ Lorenzo grumbled. ‘I’m not going anywhere near my best friend’s latest lover.’

  ‘She’s not my lover.’

  ‘Only a matter of time. Minutes. A few hours at the most.’ Lorenzo chuckled. ‘Breathe easy, brother.’

  Alex sighed, then puffed out a smidge of amusement. ‘Sorry.’ They had never competed over a woman—had never had to given they went for totally different types. And until this second Alex had thought he’d walk away from any woman who threatened to come between him and Lorenzo—no hesitation. But Dani was different. The lust he felt for her made him want to fight his closest friend—the need was that sharp. But it seemed Lorenzo knew him better than he knew himself and was keeping far, far away.

  So he could breathe easy? Yeah, as if that were possible when he had temptation-on-legs living in his town house and a bad case of honour afflicting him.

  For the first time in ages he left the office for lunch—wandered down to the little exclusive line of shops round the block—an idea bubbling at the back of his brain. He didn’t bother going back up to the office, got the car and went to the warehouse early to pick her up instead. Lorenzo was on the phone and waved his hand towards the stairs.

  He could hear her voice. Given that Cara finished up early afternoon, he knew she was on a call. He hovered outside the door so he wouldn’t interrupt her.

  ‘But this is my brother. Doesn’t that count for something?’

  Oh, it was a personal call. Alex stilled completely. He shouldn’t listen. He’d done it before and suffered—losing the last of his childhood innocence as he’d realised his mother was having an affair. He didn’t know who the lover she’d been talking to was—hadn’t registered the extent of it, certainly hadn’t dreamed there’d be that direct implication for him. Not then. But it had been a bitter enough pill. He’d been so angry with her—disrespecting her so much that Samuel had sent him to boarding school. The blindness of the man he’d thought was his father—whom he’d loved as his father—had made Alex even angrier.

  So given what he knew about listening in to other people’s conversations, he should walk down the hall and give Dani some privacy now. But his feet wouldn’t move.

  ‘But our mother is dead. How can she file the request when she’s dead?’

  He heard her sigh.

  ‘But how can I find him if I can’t get the paperwork from you?’

  Silence while whoever it was talked some more.

  ‘I’m in Auckland—what if I came into the office?’

  Whoever it was, he was letting her down. Alex couldn’t stop bending forward a fraction so he could see her through the gap in the hinge of the door. Her head was bent, her fringe hiding her eyes. From her slump he guessed the answer she’d just got was another negative.

  ‘Is there any other way I might be able to find him?’ She listened for a while. ‘I’ve already put messages up on the Internet.’ She was silent as she listened, and clearly not happy. ‘OK. I understand. Thank you for your time.’

  She put the phone down and buried her face in her hands, elbows thumping onto the desk.

  Alex straightened and counted to five before walking on the spot for a few paces and then opening the door. ‘Are you ready to leave?’

  Her head snapped up. ‘Alex. I didn’t know you were here.’ A flush mounted in her cheeks. ‘I was using the phone but it was a local call.’

  ‘It’s fine to use the phone.’ He was dying to ask more but she stood quickly and became busy pulling on her jacket. OK, he’d bide his time—but he’d find out what the deal was. She didn’t suit the defeated look.

  She said nothing until they were belted into his car, but then she launched a hit. ‘I thought you said Cara was pregnant.’

  Alex winced. Yeah, he should have seen this one coming. ‘She is.’

  ‘Not exactly due next month, though, is she?’

  ‘No.’ More like seven or so months. Cara had told them a couple of weeks ago, too effervescent to keep the news to herself any longer. She’d bounced off the walls when she’d blabbed it, while her husband had been all teasing protectiveness—warning that she wasn’t to work too hard. Ironic when he was the CEO of one of the country’s biggest accountancy firms and worked dog hours as bad as both Alex and Lorenzo.

  ‘She’s had terrible morning sickness.’ Alex said, amazed at his inventiveness. Then he panicked, knowing the way women talked to each other. ‘But don’t mention it. She’s very private. She doesn’t want us to think she can’t cope.’

  ‘Oh.’ Dani nodded. ‘Of course. And is that why she works part-time hours at the moment?’

  ‘Yes.’ Lying was allowed when it was to help someone, right?

  ‘You nearly ready?’ Alex hollered.

  Dani gave herself one last despairing glance in the mirror and fully regretted declining the use of the stylist.

  Style—of the Carlisle standard. Could it be bought? Fashioned from the rawest of material? The dress was good, she knew it was good—it fitted perfectly. But the body beneath wasn’t perfect, and there was no glitz or glam to dazzle the eyes and blind them to those imperfect bits.

  She turned her back on her image and walked down the stairs to the lounge. He wasn’t there. She took the few steps into the kitchen. He had his back to her. His perfectly fitted, perfectly pressed suit gleamed blacker than ink and oozed expense. He looked lean and long and definitely strong—could his shoulders be any broader? Then he turned around.

  It took several moments before she could drag her gaze all the way up his body to his face. Even so his mouth was still hanging open, still another beat before he shut it. The surprise written all over him stung. Had he really expected her to walk in wearing some ill-fitting off-the-rack budget-chain number?

  She was so glad she’d packed it. She’d laughed at her mother for making it. Argued she’d have been better off making her some more work shirts and skirts. Her mother had always altered her clothes for her—her breasts were too ample and her shoulders too narrow for store-bought to sit right. But she’d wanted to make her a dress—‘to look beautiful’ in. She’d despaired of Dani’s jeans and tee habit. Just as Dani had despaired of her mother’s ‘must have a man’ complex.

  ‘Where did you get it?’ He swallowed.

  ‘My mother made it.’ She cleared her throat. ‘She was a seamstress.’

  ‘A very good one.’

  ‘Yes.’ It was as beautifully made as his suit, which frankly s
he couldn’t bear to look at a second longer. But the sting from his shock had gone now and left the heat of relief. She pushed her hair behind her ear. ‘Should we get going?’

  He walked over to her. ‘I have something for you.’ He reached into his pocket. ‘To keep that bit out of your eyes.’ He uncurled his fingers.

  She had a quick peek and resolutely looked back up at him. ‘I’m not wearing that.’ And she wasn’t going to look at it again. Her retinas were suffering enough already—bright spots danced the rumba before her.

  ‘It’s just a hairclip.’

  It wasn’t just a clip. It was a very grown-up piece of art. She might not have money but she wasn’t stupid. Those weren’t zirconias or even crystals. Only diamonds sparkled like that. It was an iris, wrought in a fine gold setting, some petals studded with diamonds, others decorated with yellow stones and a long slender gold stem. It was so, so pretty. Exactly the sort of totally feminine thing she secretly adored. How could he have known that? She couldn’t deny she was thrilled. But even so, she couldn’t possibly wear it. ‘Where did you get it?’

  He tilted his hand so it caught more light.

  ‘I’ve never seen a clip like that.’

  ‘It’s a brooch—I got them to convert it.’

  ‘Got who?’

  ‘The jeweller.’

  Oh, no. Her instinct was right—and no way could she accept something so expensive. ‘Alex, I—’

  He moved so close she could smell him—fresh and citrussy and so yummy she had to shut her mouth to stop herself drooling over him. His hands were firm on her head as he swept her hair back and pressed the clip into place.

  He didn’t move away once it was done. His hands dropped but he stayed.

  She looked up at him. His eyes were a vivid green and a small smile tweaked his lips—as if he knew how much she liked it. She shook her head but he spoke first, not giving her the chance to say no.

  ‘It looks better on you than it would on me.’

  Alex marched five paces away from her—putting the stainless-steel bench between them. Breathing space—he needed it now. But he couldn’t stop staring. He’d seen many black evening dresses in his time. He’d seen them long, short, high cut, low cut, backless, strapless, sleeveless, braless, sequined, sparkly, matte, smooth, velvet, silk, satin. He’d seen them twirl and he’d seen them creased. He’d helped slide zips both up and down. And he’d seen many of them slither to the floor.

  But he had never, ever seen a black dress like hers. It fitted so perfectly. Utterly emphasising her petite, hourglass frame—cupping her full breasts, hugging her deliciously narrow waist and sweeping over those curving hips. Her short bob was sleek and glossy and there was that lock that slipped from behind her ear and curled on her cheekbone and he’d just had to deal with it—because if he didn’t he’d spend the night tempted to swish it back with his teeth. His trawl of the jewellery stores had paid off. Now the clip sparkled, but not half as much as her eyes.

  She was stunning.

  ‘We should get going.’ He didn’t recognise his own voice. Apparently he had laryngitis now.

  Ten minutes later Alex looked for the fiftieth time from the road to her, his head clear of all the confusion that had fogged it for this past week. His focus was sharp—on one thing: getting close to Dani. The urge to conquer was all-consuming. Driving every other thought beyond the mountains and into the sea. Right now, having her was all that mattered and damn the stupid complications.

  It was amazing how someone so small could inspire such a big reaction in him. Although she wasn’t that small—not where it counted.

  ‘You look beautiful.’ Such a useless cliché. And not nearly enough. But he was incapable of more.

  ‘Not as beautiful as you,’ she said.

  She might think she was being flippant, but he knew she actually meant it. He’d seen the way she’d looked at him—the way her attention clung, the way her brown eyes darkened even more when he moved closer. And he was determined to move closer still. The frustration was immense. If it hadn’t been for them getting caught on camera he could have had her already—couldn’t he? Taken her on a date and ended up in bed. Surely she wouldn’t have resisted?

  But in his bones he knew she would have. The look she’d given him as she’d left the lift? Terrified. Turned on, yes, but terrified too. Fortunately her head had been away from the camera because he wouldn’t have been crowned an online Don Juan if those in the blogosphere had seen her expression then. In his office she’d said it was nothing—a moment. Frankly he just didn’t believe that. Sarcasm was her favourite form of defence—it had taken him only minutes to learn that. So he wanted a real-life replay of the lift kiss to prove his point—that the spark didn’t get better than the one between them.

  He steered the car with one hand, curled the other in a fist on his thigh. He wasn’t going to drink tonight—that would only inflame the heat coursing through his body. He was on the edge of control as it was. It would need only the smallest provocation to tip him over the edge. Alex had never been on an edge quite like this before and he didn’t like feeling so close to it now. And Dani was nothing but provocative.

  ‘Where is this thing anyway?’ She fidgeted—running her fingers over the edge of her dress. He really wanted her to stop because he was watching and all he wanted was for it to be his fingers feeling the transition from smooth silk to soft skin.

  ‘Sky City.’ The laryngitis was back.

  She turned sharply towards him. ‘I can’t, Alex.’

  Her voice was so panicked he nearly drove into the gutter.

  ‘I can’t go up in that lift.’ Her huge eyes were even bigger and so dark.

  Oh, dear, he should have thought of that. But damned if he could be bothered climbing however many million flights of stairs it was to get to the top of the tower that overlooked the city. He was just going to have to help her through the thirty-second ordeal. And just like that he had a plan. ‘It’ll be OK. I’ll help you.’ It would be his pleasure to.

  She said nothing more but he felt her tension mounting as they drew closer to the brightly lit building and turned into its basement car park.

  He could see her breasts rising too quickly as they waited but she walked in, head high. She stood with her back against the wall of the lift. He followed her but didn’t turn to face the door, just stood bang in front of her—only an inch between them.

  ‘I’m getting a sense of déjà vu.’ He looked her over with deliberate boldness.

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ she croaked.

  Oh, yes, he totally wanted to distract her that way again. Press her against the wall and kiss her senseless so she wound herself round him again. Was that all it had been for her? A way of escaping her stress about riding in an elevator?

  Her chest was still rising abnormally fast, but he saw her nipples had peaked now too. So he had her a little distracted.

  ‘You can’t stop me thinking, Dani.’ Unfortunately he couldn’t stop himself thinking, either—and he was thinking about it all the time.

  She flicked a look up over his shoulders, lost colour as the door slid shut. He couldn’t stop her thoughts, either, but maybe he could get her even more distracted—to think about something other than her fear.

  He lifted a finger, traced the full curve of her lips. She hadn’t plastered them in thick lipstick, but they did have a shine to them. Very pretty, very full, totally kissable. The colour returned to her cheeks in a sweep.

  ‘I told you not…’ Her feeble whisper died away as he stepped closer.

  He ran his fingers up her cheekbone, turning his hand to brush the back of his fingers on her soft skin. She had a sweetheart-shaped face. Those big brown eyes dominated it. Her nose he’d barely noticed because of her drown-you-deep eyes and then there was the lush mouth beneath. But now, as he stood so close, he saw there were two freckles—one off to the left of the bridge of her nose, and one right near the tip. The tip of his finger circled them.
He was going to have to kiss them.

  Yeah, she was sweetheart pretty all right, with a body soft and curvy and built to contrast with his hard one. And when she opened her mouth it was all sarcasm and sass. The combination had him caught tighter than a fly in a spider’s web—and he wanted her to suck him dry.

  Wide-eyed, she gazed back at him, her breathing growing choppier—but he liked to think it wasn’t all about being shut up in a lift. Maybe she was reading his mind. If she was, then she knew she had far more to worry about than any stupid lift.

  He heard the doors slide. They were there.

  He took her hand in his, tightening his grip when she’d have pulled it away. ‘Time to have a ball, Dani.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  DANI was so hot she could barely breathe. All the people she’d met tonight must think she was an idiot. She’d hardly been able to talk. It had been full on introduction after introduction, conversation and speculation and adoration—of him. But he hadn’t left her side. Had turned to her when people asked questions, included her in the answering, not speaking for her but supporting her as she’d quietly replied.

  He was doing it deliberately—touching her, looking at her like that—making it feel as if they were the only two in the room when in reality they were surrounded by hundreds. It was obvious everyone thought they were together. Not surprising given he was acting as if they were. And like a mythical beast it uncoiled between them, flexing the kind of strength no human had a hope of beating. It was the one thing that would reduce even the most sensitive, erudite, highly evolved person to the animal they really were—lust.

  They moved together on the dance floor—his eyes glinted, teasing as he drew her closer then spun her away again. Oh, he would have all the fancy dance moves, wouldn’t he?

  ‘I need a drink,’ Dani begged, needing a breather from him more than anything.

  He chuckled as if he knew and led her by the hand towards the bar, letting her have her little respite.

  ‘Alex.’