Separate Rooms

Separate Rooms
Diana Hamilton

Husband and Wife… In Name Only!Ben Claremont made it quite clear that he was the only man in the world who didn't lust after Honey's body… but he asked her to marry him anyway! Honey wasn't in love with him, but accepted his offer in order to get herself out of a difficult situation… .Separate rooms would suit her just fine! But what on earth had Honey got herself into? It soon became obvious that Ben had deceived her about his reasons for proposing marriage to her. What was he up to, and were their wedding vows really based on a lie?

Separate Rooms

Diana Hamilton

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE (#u03eab5b3-8186-5e7f-a96b-c56287dd421b)

CHAPTER TWO (#u763cc79a-3cd1-5733-b382-3d5db8dc22db)

CHAPTER THREE (#u6c0f02eb-17b8-5d59-bba4-45e0afb39d1d)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE

‘IS THIS man bothering you?’

The relaxed, vaguely transatlantic drawl cut Honey’s tirade off in her throat. She hadn’t wanted to come to this wretched party and Graham, as ever, was being a pain. But she’d imagined her voice had been pitched low enough not to carry, especially considering the volume of chatter. Registering the tide of scarlet that flooded Graham’s nicely put together features, she turned on one spiky heel to deliver a frosty comment and met speedwell-blue eyes in a tanned, fantastically masculine face and promptly forgot what she’d been going to say.

‘Well?’ One sable brow quirked upwards and Honey’s fingers tightened in a defensive reflex action as she clutched her unwanted glass of wine against her breast, feeling the cold shiver of the glass against the creamy flesh exposed above the scoopy neckline of her black silk dress.

‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ she got out, her dark brown eyes still spitting temper. ‘Graham’s a friend and—’

‘If you screech abuse to your friends, I would hate to think what you do to your enemies,’ the stranger inserted smoothly, his mouth curling. And Honey turned back to Graham. Screech? Had she really? But Graham had disappeared into the crowd and she felt her shoulders loosen with relief. Good. She could make her excuses to Sonia and slope away. And the smooth voice drawled amusedly, ‘Feeling better now? Fine. The poor wimp’s slunk off to drown his sorrows so why don’t we two crash out of this rabble and have a quiet drink in one of the bars downstairs?’

The invitation was delivered in a take-it-or-leave-it tone that intrigued her, and she tilted her head on one side and back because he had to be well over six feet tall. Well over because she stood five six in her stockinged feet and tonight she was wearing four-inch heels. And no one, but no one, had ever called Graham Trent a wimp before. He was the town’s most eligible bachelor, his father one of the richest men in the area. He would be furious if he ever found out!

‘I don’t drink with strangers.’ She knew her eyes were full of laughter; she could feel it, and a little light amusement was a darn sight better than the heavy hassle Graham never failed to provide, and the wide rangy shoulders lifted just slightly beneath expensive grey suiting as the smooth dark voice confirmed,

‘But you think it might be marginally better than fighting with friends?’ He took her glass from suddenly unresisting fingers and put it on a wide window-ledge, those quite incredibly blue eyes smiling down into hers. ‘And if it makes you feel easier I’ll introduce myself. Ben Claremont, long-time buddy of Colin Watts. I’m a house guest with them for the next few weeks, which is why I couldn’t get out of this thrash tonight. And if we don’t make a run for it now Sonia’s going to grab us.’

Watching his tall, lithe body move effortlessly through the crowd, making it patently clear that he wasn’t bothered whether she went with him or not, Honey swallowed a grin and began to follow. Well, why not?

Besides, he had been right. Sonia the indefatigable would soon pounce on any guests who weren’t circulating, chattering and grinning to show they were having a whale of a time. And although Sonia had been a friend since schooldays Honey had never been able to understand why every year the Wattses hired the biggest function room in the town’s smartest hotel to throw an anniversary party. Everyone knew that the other three hundred and sixty-four days they were at each other’s throats!

In any case, Ben Claremont’s take-it-or-leave-it attitude intrigued her, she had to admit. She had been fighting men off ever since she had turned seventeen and it was refreshingly different to come across one who was quite obviously not bowled over by a curvaceous body, wicked brown eyes and a mane of fiery red hair!

She caught up with him at the head of the sweeping, thickly carpeted stairs and, apart from the way he dipped his glossy dark head in acknowledgement, he made no comment, merely matching his pace to hers as they descended the shallow staircase, the noise level receding to an opulent hush as he stood aside to allow her to precede him into the discreetly lit and elegantly furnished cocktail bar.

‘Make it two cognacs,’ Ben told a hovering waiter, then sat on the banquette next to Honey, his endless legs casually outstretched, his eyes frankly curious as he followed on, ‘What were you and your friend fighting about, Honey? He looked as if he wanted to strangle you.’

She gave him a level stare. Did he know her name, or had he simply been using a meaningless endearment? The only way to find out was to ask.

‘How did you know my name?’

‘Simple, I asked.’ The brandy balloons arrived on a silver tray and he extracted a note from his pocket, idly gestured the waiter away, his eyes never leaving hers as he drawled out a string of particulars. ‘Honey Ballantyne, twenty-six years old, dealer in antiques, with a sizeable shareholding in BallanTrent Components. And the dog-housed boyfriend is Graham Trent whose father has a fifty per cent holding in the said company. Right?’ His long mouth twitched, registering the black snap of her eyes. ‘And before you blow a gasket, Sonia volunteered the information. All I did was ask who you were. She tells me she’s your best friend.’

Oldest, but not best—Honey’s thoughts went off at a tangent. And trust her to give out her life history at the drop of an idle question. Sonia had always been a gossip, a stirrer, and the older she got, the worse she got. It came from having an empty life.

The silent spurt of temper he had so obviously noted was now under control and she leaned back, her eyes narrowing as she observed the way he cradled his glass, warming the liquid with his capable, well shaped hands. He looked supremely relaxed and at home with himself and she was glad he hadn’t been trying to sweet-talk her, using a meaningless endearment. She was tired of empty flattery from men who only saw her as a sex object. So far, this man seemed different from the many others who had tried to get her into bed and when he repeated, ‘Why were you and Graham fighting?’ she was sure enough of his impartiality to offer defensively,

‘He started it. Going on and on about Sonia’s and Colin’s fifth wedding anniversary party and how we’d be ninety years old before we got around to celebrating our first. I will not be pressured that way.’ Temper surfaced again, had her reaching for her glass, swirling the contents round and round the bowl. And Ben deduced disinterestedly,

‘I take it you’re in no hurry to name the day. How long have you been engaged?’

‘We are not engaged. Never have been and never will be.’ Honey gave a sagging sigh and sipped at her brandy, feeling the smooth, expensive liquid slide easily down her throat, beginning to unknot the bunch of tension lodged behind her breastbone. Then she asked with a sharp sidelong glance, ‘Why so interested?’

‘I’m not—particularly.’ His elegant shrug was indicative of indifference. And then he qualified, ‘At least, only in as much as I’m interested in people—what motivates them, why they act as they do in different circumstances.’

‘Oh?’ Her interest caught, Honey took another sip of the warming spirit and bestowed a slight smile. ‘Why? What are you—a social worker, a writer, maybe?’

‘Much duller.’ He returned her smile with a trace of wryness. ‘I’m Claremont Electronics. Much the same line as BallanTrent. Boring stuff, as I’m sure you’d be the first to agree.’

Blandly said, but Honey’s fine brows drew together. Had Sonia told him of the running battle between herself, her mother and Henry Trent, her deceased father’s partner? Could be. Which would explain his comment about boredom. But she’d heard of Claremont Electronics. And maybe that company and BallanTrent could be classed in the same breath, but only just. Claremont was world-wide, huge, and specialised in futuristic stuff, designing and manufacturing electronics for the space industry. A different and far classier kettle of fish... And if he was the Claremont, then, by all accounts, he was a near-genius...

‘So you’re not in love with young Trent and you have no intention of marrying him, am I right?’ The rich, comforting voice startled her out of her thoughts and she wrinkled her neat nose.

‘Got it in one. Only you try convincing him. I can’t. Ever since my mother and his father decided that their sole offspring should marry for the good of the company—all one happy family kind of stuff—he’s been driving me crazy. The trouble is,’ she confided on a gusty sigh, ‘he’s so old-fashioned and conventional. The business comes first. It must be secured because it provides not only a sizeable income but social standing, respect, if you like. And if Henry, his father, tells him that our marriage would be the best thing for the dratted business then that, as far as Graham is concerned, is that. Regardless.’

Honey swallowed the last of her drink and crashed the glass back on the table, her movements edgy again. Her temper, always volatile, was in danger of exploding from the pressure she’d been under just lately, from both Graham and her mother, and her mouth curled with derision when Ben put in equably, ‘Maybe he’s in love with you. Couldn’t you put his persistence down to that?’

‘Love!’ Honey’s voice rose several decibels, her magnificent eyes narrowing with scorn. ‘Graham loves BallanTrent, his self-image, and golf. In that order!’

‘Are you quite sure?’ The relaxed voice was smoky, amusement curling through it as the vivid blue eyes roamed from the unrestrained corkscrew twists of her fiery hair to the tips of her elegantly shod feet, taking in every point of interest in between. ‘Your mind is alert and bright, your face could be your fortune, and your body is quite definitely of the come-to-bed variety. And don’t get me wrong,’ he inserted at her suddenly suspicious, withering glare, his tone not altering in the slightest, ‘I’m speaking entirely as a non-involved observer.’

‘Oh.’ The frown between her eyes eased away. Just for a moment she had felt hot and bothered by the lazy sweep of his eyes, the tone of his voice, the things he had said. ‘Come-to-bed body’ sounded like things she had heard a score of times before and had taken the greatest exception to. But he had shown, all along, his impartiality, described his interest in the situation as merely academic. And even though his arm was stretched casually out along the back of the banquette, his fingers a mere twitch away from the naked, creamy skin of her shoulder, he hadn’t once tried to touch.

And his impartiality was back in force when he stated, ‘So you are not in love with young Trent and have no intention of marrying him to keep BallanTrent in the family, so to speak. You have repeatedly told him this, to no avail. I take it there is no one else?’ And, receiving the quick shake of her head with a tiny smile, he advised, ‘You’d better leave the area if you want to get him off your back.’

And Honey fumed, ‘Don’t think I haven’t thought of it!’