Climax Of Passion

‘Your reservation is complete, sir. I’m now ready to escort you to the Presidential Suite.’

He looked at his wristwatch. ‘That’s very good, Miss Buchanan. You had ten seconds to spare.’

‘In that case, sir, I’ll use the time to assemble the paperwork relating to this afternoon’s activities.’

Amanda hurriedly assembled all the letters lying around. The men had not bothered to take their dismissal notices with them. She deposited them in the bottom of the cashier’s register. They would be safe there until she could find time to get back to them.

‘Time’s up.’

There was no demand in his voice, nothing peremptory. Amanda knew as well as he did she had satisfied every demand he had placed upon her. So far. How long that would last...

‘Do you have any luggage?’

‘None that is of concern to the hotel.’

‘Thank you, Mr Upgrade,’ she challenged him. ‘It’s my pleasure to escort you to your suite.’

He looked at her in reassessment, decided to let the challenge go unremarked.

‘I hope it will be a pleasure, Miss Buchanan,’ he said mildly. ‘A great pleasure.’

Amanda looked at him again. A prickle of danger ran down her spine. She was quite certain that the pleasure Upgrade had in his mind was not identical to the pleasure she had in hers. She needed to get close to this man, but not that close!

CHAPTER FOUR

HE HAD stipulated nine o’clock.

Amanda paced her room, waiting for the last few minutes to tick by before she had to face the man in the Presidential Suite again. She felt too on edge to sit down. Impossible to relax. So much depended upon what happened in the next hour.

He was a reasonable man, she assured herself. He hadn’t tried to detain her this afternoon. He had not said anything suggestive, nor made any move that could be interpreted as taking a liberty. He had agreed she had many pressing duties as the new general manager...and in the same breath, made this appointment for a discussion on her future.

Nine o’clock was not an unreasonable time. It had given her six hours to deal with whatever problems arose from the shock departure of the senior management and her startling promotion to the top rank. Implicit in that choice of hour, however, was the understanding that Amanda’s time was his, free of all interruptions. Amanda could not fool herself that he only wanted to talk business with her.

She couldn’t forget that brief blaze of searing desire this afternoon. She couldn’t deny the fascination he exerted on her. She was going to be in deep trouble if he rejected the schedule she had set in place.

Surely, as a reasonable man, he would accept what she had arranged. All the preparations had been made. She had covered every contingency. He couldn’t take offence at what she had done for him and it gave her a smooth getaway.

The only problem was...she had never met anyone like this man before. He affected her in ways...but there was no future in dwelling on that. If she gave in to this...attraction...compulsion...she would end up in his power, and where would that lead?

Amanda shook her head. It was too dangerous. However tempting it was to have the experience, to know all that he was, she had no doubt it would mean ceding control to him. And that she would not do.

Her decisions were made. She could not afford to waver from her chosen course. She had to seize the authority she now had and use it while time was still on her side. It was daring, so daring her heart had been pumping overtime ever since she had thought of it. Once she started there could be no stopping, no turning back. Her actions would be irreversible.

But first she had to face him.

She checked her watch. It was time to move. Punctuality was mandatory. She left her room and headed for the elevators. Her legs felt shaky. She steeled her mind to cope with the situation. She only had to get through one hour with him. She could keep her wits about her for one short hour.

She took deep, calming breaths as she rode up to the top floor. Her legs were much steadier on her walk to the door of the Presidential Suite. It was precisely nine o’clock as she pressed the buzzer to announce her arrival.

The door clicked open. ‘Good evening,’ she said to the butler.

‘I’m just leaving, Miss Buchanan. I’ve served the champagne.’

‘Thank you,’ she said on a note of resignation. The butler had obviously been given his orders. Mr Complimentary Upgrade meant to have her to himself, no third party around to inhibit whatever he wanted to happen between them.

The butler stood aside to let her through, and then, empty tray in hand, made his departure.

Amanda was immediately aware that the rooms beyond the vestibule were dimly lit. Champagne...soft lights...but the Presidential Suite was very large. Like a penthouse really. She had plenty of space to move around in.

Besides, this man was not the type to rush anything. Not something he wanted. He would wait patiently, wanting it all precisely as he planned it. Step by step. Relentless and ruthless in his execution.

Amanda shivered, then took firm control of herself. Nothing was going to happen that she didn’t want to happen. Determined to hold her own against this disturbing man, she set forth into the living room, back straight, chin up, a brave smile of confidence hovering on her lips. She felt rather foolish when he wasn’t there to greet her.

The table lamps on either side of the white leather lounge setting were switched on. Spotlit by one was a silver ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne. The cork had been removed and the sparkling fluid poured into two crystal flute glasses.

Amanda’s hands clenched. If he was about to appear in something more comfortable...

‘The stars are brightly shining tonight.’

Amanda almost jumped. His voice was enough of a magnet to draw her gaze instantly to where he stood at the far end of the room, a darker shadow amongst the shadows beyond the long expanse of glass that faced the balcony.

It made Amanda acutely conscious of being in a pool of light, of having been observed without her knowledge. He would have noted she was still in her black suit, noted the body language that revealed her inner tension, and had probably already decided how best to deal with the situation. She felt at a distinct disadvantage.

‘It’s a good omen,’ he said softly. ‘I like watching the stars.’

‘Do you? I find a great deal of pleasure...’ Amanda began, rushing into speech to cover her disquiet, then wishing she’d held her tongue. Pleasure was a word she did not wish to use tonight. ‘There is a grandeur and sweep to it,’ she acknowledged, trying to put the conversation on an impersonal level.

He left the shadows and strolled towards her, projecting a totally relaxed manner. Amanda was relieved to see he was fully dressed although he had changed his clothes. He wore black. Easier to merge with the night, Amanda thought. Then she saw the sheen of silk in his shirt and knew that his choice had more to do with sensuality than darkness. It was an invitation to touch, to feel, to lose herself in a night with him.

He paused at the table where the drinks were laid out. ‘I have taken the liberty of ordering some Dom Perignon to celebrate your promotion,’ he said with a smile that was both whimsical and seductive. ‘Will you partake of a glass with me?’

He was already having an intoxicating effect on her...a man of mystery, of immense fascination. She couldn’t risk heightening it by any relaxation of her defences. ‘I don’t drink when I’m on duty,’ she said quickly.

‘And I don’t drink at all,’ he said slowly. ‘Nevertheless, these are challenging times in which we live, Miss Buchanan.’

He picked up the two glasses and brought them to her, standing close, making her extremely conscious of her vulnerable femininity. Something primitive pulsed from this man. It was muted by the civilised clothes, the civilised man-ner, yet her every instinct recognised the barbarian in him, the hunter, the conqueror, the possessor.

Amanda had the sense, the feeling of potent danger. He was so vibrant, so intensely alive, as though he thrived on challenge, as though it was meat and drink to him, the very essence of life.

‘Let us dare to break our own rules,’ he tempted softly, his eyes engaging hers with mesmerising directness.

She had to speak, to keep him talking. Only words could battle the effect he was having on her and keep him at a distance. ‘Wouldn’t that be flirting with chaos? You struck me as a man who appreciates and demands order, Mr Up-grade.’

‘Chaos can be brought into order, if the will is strong enough.’

‘Do as you will, but I shall not put my sense of order at risk. I prefer to keep my promotion than lose it on a glass of champagne.’

One black eyebrow arched quizzically. ‘Surely you make something out of nothing.’