Accidental Bride

King’s smile lit his entire face. ‘Your manner denotes leadership and the quality of your dress screams money. You came in a taxi because of those heels—you wouldn’t have been able to drive in them. And there isn’t a hint of an indentation or change in colour on any of your fingers, which means you haven’t worn a ring in a very long time. You don’t wear nail polish,’ he continued, sure of himself, ‘no fancy rings, only simple jewellery—I’d guess you’re a very capable, self-assured woman, not needing all those artificial adornments to enhance the package.’

Clare noticed Sasha pull her hands off the table and tuck them on her lap—her pink-painted nails a dead give-away of her supposed insecurities, if King was to be believed. Personally, she figured he was full of himself—a load of hot air polluting the planet.

King was certainly clever. She had to give him that. But there was no reason she had to pander to him. She stared at the sweet on her plate and took a corner and put it in her mouth. The sheets of buttered wafer-thin pastry were layered with nuts and soaked in a lemony orange-blossom-flavoured sugar and honey syrup. It was heavenly, but it didn’t help her brain come up with some clever retort. ‘I could have changed into my heels after I’d driven here…?’

Mark knew he was right. He had to be or she wouldn’t be looking so demure, being so quiet and intent on her dessert. And he was sure her cheeks had paled a fraction. It was the thrill of the hunt. She was right. He enjoyed a challenge and she was just the sort of challenge he wanted to indulge in at the moment. ‘So, do you need a ride home?’

‘Are you offering?’ his stranger asked, her voice lilting melodiously. She dabbed her full lips with her serviette, staring him directly in the eyes as though daring him to wipe the smile off her lips with his own.

The music resumed in the ballroom and people started drifting away from the tables. Mark, however, had no intention of going anywhere until he had some answers.

He noticed Sasha rising next to him. ‘I’m just going to powder my nose.’

Now was the time to interrogate this lady, to give him a fair chance at this challenge of hers. He could throw all decorum and manners to the wind and seriously terrorise her into the truth without concerning himself with the effect on young Sasha.

Clare rose.

He started. ‘Are you joining her?’

‘Yes.’ She offered him one of her dazzling smiles. ‘Will you miss me?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll be here.’ Working out what the hell she was up to. She certainly was astute—she knew she’d be vulnerable on her own.

The thought that she was some gold-digger had occurred to him. She knew enough about him to know exactly the sort of woman he’d be attracted to. But, hell. Whatever she wanted, however much she cost, the way things were going he’d be up for it—for a chance at taming her.

Mark couldn’t help but watch her. She didn’t look back. Sasha did, though, and Mark couldn’t decide whether his sister’s friend liked the woman or was going to have a go at chopping her off at the knees. Mark suspected that Sasha figured he was her territory, but she’d have no joy with his stranger. This was a woman who knew her mind.

Mark had to admit he felt more alive than he’d been for a long time. He liked this game. But he wasn’t going to stick to the rules. He hadn’t got to where he had by falling in with other people’s games. He moved his leg and slipped out her mobile phone from underneath.

Distracting her had been a delight. That split in that dress of hers was perfect. She’d been so soft, so smooth—her handbag and its contents had become almost inconsequential to her leg.

Mark rose and strode to a quiet alcove off the dining room. He turned the small red mobile in his hand. He hoped she’d used it for a personal call and not some weather report that would get him nowhere. But then, there was always the kitchen staff. He didn’t have a qualm in the world about striding in there and interrogating them as to how they’d known his mystery guest’s dietary requirements.

He flipped it open and pushed redial. A taxi company would be ideal to track down who’d driven her here and from where, but too easy. Mark smiled. The thrill of the hunt pounded through his veins in tune with the peal of the phone.

‘Hello?’ It was a shaky voice. A woman’s. ‘Is that you, Clare?’

He rolled the name around his mind. ‘Excelsior Hotel. Lost and Found. We’ve just had this phone handed in and we pride ourselves on service. We’d love to return it to the owner before they leave tonight. Would you be able to describe the owner? I’ve just pushed redial so you’ve spoken to them recently. The phone is small and red. Looks like a woman’s.’

‘It’ll be Clare’s.’ The woman cleared her throat. ‘Clare Harrison. She’s tall, has shoulder-length brown hair and blue eyes.’

Bingo! A swell of satisfaction rose in his chest. ‘Thank you. I’ll page her right away.’ He rang off, smiling. Clare Harrison. He had her now.

‘Isn’t that a woman’s mobile?’

Mark turned. John was so young and so naïve about the business world and all its shades of grey that became a way of life. ‘Yes—yes, it is.’

‘You look pleased, sir.’

‘Very pleased.’ Mark pressed the phone into John’s hand. ‘Hand this in to a waiter. Say you found it.’

‘Yes, sir.’ John looked dubiously at the phone and then at Mark.

‘Do we know a Clare Harrison? The name sounds familiar.’ And he was going to get a whole lot more familiar with the devilish woman.

‘Yes, sir.’

Mark snapped his head up. They did? How could they? He would never have forgotten her! ‘Well, who is she?’

John shuffled his feet. ‘She’s one of the owners of Trans-International. One of the smaller companies in the pipeline.’ John pulled at his tie. ‘Why?’

Mark tensed. Trans-Inter. Small and innocuous. Rising fast. A gem to add to his holdings. ‘I thought no one knew about our intentions for Trans-Inter?’

‘Nobody should, sir. Only a select group involved in researching and compiling the report. You’ve an appointment to see the other partner on Monday. He owns the majority of the company.’

‘I have, have I?’ Mark glared at John. ‘Under what name did you make our appointment?’ Mistakes weren’t to be tolerated. John was new, but Mark had made it very clear what he expected of him. If a sniff of his plans were known before he’d got his foot in the door with a partner he’d not only be fighting off the competition but the employees and the other partner…

‘Under Mark Johns, sir.’

Mark rubbed his jaw. A clever ruse, and not entirely untrue. John would be with him.

So, with that avenue ruled out, how had Miss Harrison found out? And what did she have planned for him? His mind went into overdrive. What would he do to save his business if the tables were turned? Anything! He couldn’t help feeling that whatever she had planned for him, he was up for it.

Clare Harrison was quite a woman. He would volley anything she could toss his way. And he was sure he’d enjoy the game.

CHAPTER FOUR

FOR a second Clare thought she’d recognised a face as she moved through the crowd, but when she looked again it was gone.

She touched her chest, feeling if her heart was still beating. The last thing she needed was someone who knew her tipping King off and wrecking the plan.

It wouldn’t take him long to realise the connection between Clare and her sister and be on to her. Fiona had rung his office number over ten times one day to try and speak with him. Not one call had been returned.

Clare followed Sasha, weaving through the tables and the other guests. The young woman was swinging her hips just a little too much to be believed normal—unless the girl had some spinal problem. It was obvious she was advertising—to Clare as much as anyone—staking her territory.

Clare had met many men like King. They were a dime a dozen. Users, every one of them. Clare felt her blood heat. She’d learnt quickly how to pick them and avoid them. If only she’d helped her sister hone her radar for that type of man she wouldn’t be in this mess now.

Clare refreshed her lipstick in the powder room, noticing Sasha watching her intently with narrowed eyes. She could tell what was coming.

Clare replaced her lipstick in her purse and glanced at the young girl who was trying to stare her into oblivion. ‘You like him, don’t you?’

‘Yes. And I want you to know that my father is very rich—and obviously I’m younger, and blonde.’ She looked Clare up and down dubiously. ‘You’re wasting your time.’

‘I think you’d better take another long hard look at the guy—he’s not as innocent as you think. He needs a challenge.’ She caught herself before she said too much. ‘And he likes brunettes.’

Sasha opened her mouth, and closed it.

‘He’s a man of the world, Sasha. Bored out of his brain with everything. He wants someone who can stand up to him and that’s not you. Do yourself a favour and get a nice young man who’ll worship the ground you walk on.’