The Playboy In Pursuit

‘Right,’ the object of her agitation said as he unsnapped his seat belt and threw open the car door. ‘Let’s go check out this apartment. Though if you claim it’s perfect for me, Lucille, then no doubt it will be. A man would be a fool not to trust the judgement of a lady of your beauty and intelligence.’

He was out of the car in a flash, leaving her floundering after these last remarks. Common sense warned her that compliments to women would be an automatic part of his playboy arsenal, but why was he bothering to use them on her? She wasn’t his usual style of bedmate.

Was he looking for an easy bolster for his bruised ego? An afternoon quickie to soothe the savage beast?

Such a prospect didn’t repulse her nearly as much as it should have.

Oh, God.

She struggled out in her high heels, then cringed with embarrassment when she pointed the hand-held lock at the car and zapped the boot open instead of the doors closed.

‘Botheration,’ she muttered, hurrying forward to manually close the boot, then re-zap the doors.

‘I do that all the time,’ he said, materialising by her side with the stealth of a cat. ‘When I drive, that is. Which isn’t often. I don’t own a car. I travel too much to be bothered. I usually borrow one of Max’s when I’m in Sydney, but be damned if I will be this time. Sorry,’ he said with a quick smile. ‘Would you believe me if I said I don’t usually swear in front of ladies?’

Lucille didn’t. She’d already heard him swearing over the phone. Val Seymour was a man who did what he wanted, when he wanted, in front of whoever he wanted. He was being charming with a purpose in mind. She was sure of it. But what purpose? Seduction?

‘I’ve heard worse,’ she returned coolly, determined not to surrender to his easy charm.

His eyes glinted as they locked with hers. ‘You have? I’m surprised anyone would dare in your presence.’

Her shoulders squared defensively. ‘And what do you mean by that?’

‘You have a formidable air about you, Lucille. Somewhere between ice princess and stern headmistress. Though the shoes are a bit of a worry. They don’t fit either scenario.’

She blushed. She actually blushed.

He looked startled, and then confused. ‘I’m sorry. That was rude of me. Again. Yet I’d just resolved to be polite.’ His expression of bewilderment had a boyish quality about it which was even more dangerously attractive than his rampant sexuality. ‘I’m not having a good day, am I?’ he said with a sigh. ‘Forgive me?’

‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ came her starchy reply. ‘The client is always right.’

‘Ouch. Now I feel really guilty. Perhaps we should just get on with the inspection. Then I can say yes straight away, give you my credit card number and move straight in. After which you can be on your way and out of my reprehensible presence. Unless, of course, you need to check my references before I can take possession?’

His words took on a wicked double entendre in Lucille’s erotically charged brain. But instead of being shocked, this time she felt nothing but a warped amusement. How ironic that this man of all men could turn her on! It was truly laughable.

‘Mr Seymour,’ she chided drily. ‘You are being facetious.’

‘Would I do that?’ He smiled at her.

She couldn’t help it. She simply couldn’t keep up the ice princess act. Or was it the stern headmistress? She heartily disapproved of Val Seymour, and everything he stood for, but his charm was irresistible.

Her smile was still slow in coming, teasing the corners of her mouth before she finally surrendered to its pull.

His dark eyes danced at the sight of it, and her stomach flipped right over. The man was a devil, all right. An attractive and dangerous devil.

‘Does that mean I’m forgiven?’ he enquired flirtatiously.

Lucille decided enough was enough. She had to quickly regain control of this situation or she would be in deep trouble. As much as she might have been mentally fantasising about Val Seymour becoming her lover, she refused to let it actually happen. Pride demanded she keep him at bay and not do anything she might seriously regret.

‘Mr Seymour—’ she began in a businesslike tone.

‘Val,’ he corrected.

‘Val…’

‘Yes, Lucille?’

Why, oh, why did he choose that precise moment to say her name again? And to look at her like that again. With a warm, teasing smile and sparkling black eyes.

She shook her head in frustrated denial of his ongoing effect on her. ‘You are a truly irritating man.’

‘In what way?’ he asked, his very real puzzlement as disarming as his natural charm.

‘I was determined not to like you at all.’

Oh, God, had she really said that?

Now he was truly taken aback. ‘I’m flattered. But was that a compliment or a criticism?’

‘A fact,’ she snapped, annoyed with herself.

‘Well, I like you too,’ he returned, looking amused. ‘But I had no bad preconceptions of your character to battle against. You’ll have to tell me over dinner tonight just what terrible things you’d heard about me that made you determined not to like me.’

Her mouth went instantly dry. ‘Dinner tonight?’

‘You have another engagement?’

‘No, but…’

‘Erica said you weren’t dating anyone at the moment.’

‘No, but…’

‘Neither am I, if that’s what’s worrying you.’

‘No, but…’

‘No more buts, Lucille. You’re coming to dinner with me tonight and that’s that.’

Lucille could not contain a burst of exasperation. ‘Did it ever occur to you that I may not want to come to dinner with you tonight?’

The expression on his face was classic. Lucille wondered if any woman had ever said no to him.

But then she remembered Flame.

Flame’s defection was probably why she was being asked out in the first place. Loverboy needed his male ego stroking. Fast.

The thought piqued her own ego. ‘I was going to put a treatment in my hair tonight,’ she lied.