Her Enemy With Benefits: Her Deal with the Devil / My Boyfriend and Other Enemies / Blind Date Rivals

It would be a lot more fun brainstorming if she knew what he was getting at but she’d play along for now.

‘Stylish. Chic. Classy.’

‘Exactly.’

He continued jotting, muttering under his breath. The tip of his tongue was back and she couldn’t help but smile. If he was this enthused now, she had full confidence their joint collaboration would steal the show.

‘This is my significant moment.’ He twirled the pad so she wasn’t reading upside down. ‘Hollywood glamour of old.’

She squinted at his illegible notes as he flung the pen down and stood.

‘We go all out. Elegant clothes. Curvy models. Bold colours and designs. Dramatic make-up.’

He started pacing and she’d never seen him so focussed.

‘A theme to make people wish they’d lived decades ago. We play on the fashion frenzy Mad Men has recreated but take it a step further back in time. When women were proud to be sensual and lush and weren’t afraid to hide the fact.’

For some reason heat crept into her cheeks at the way he said sensual. Jeez, what would it be like to have a guy like him go all sensual on her?

Yeah, that was helping her blush.

‘Rich fabrics. Satin. Lace. Hugging curves. Fitted pencil skirts. Long elbow gloves. Hourglass silhouettes.’

He fired the words out at random, his eyes sparking with passion, and the heat in her cheeks spread to the rest of her body.

She literally tingled with the urge to touch him, to see if the powerful vibe emanating from him would zap her.

If he were this passionate about work, how worked up did he get in the bedroom?

She swallowed. It did little to ease the sudden dryness in her mouth. The exact opposite in other areas of her body.

She really needed a date desperately if she were having illicit fantasies about the guy who drove her mad.

‘You like the idea.’ He grabbed her hand and twirled her, and she couldn’t help but laugh. His enthusiasm was infectious.

‘What gave it away?’

‘This.’ He trailed a fingertip from the outer corner of her eye, down her cheek and around her lips, tracing their shape with exquisite precision. ‘When you’re relaxed your face lights up.’

‘Probably a reflection of yours,’ she muttered, knowing she should step back and put some much needed distance between them, but captivated by the incredible longing she glimpsed in the depths of his gaze.

He had to be longing for success, not her, right? The guy who’d squired starlets to gallery openings and models to movie premieres. The guy who’d cut a path through Europe with his legendary parties. The guy who’d teased her incessantly at high school.

They couldn’t be attracted; it wouldn’t be prudent.

But the longer they stood like this, invisible energy crackling between them, his fingertip lingering at the corner of her mouth, which he now stared at as if he wanted to devour it, the more she knew she was kidding herself.

Working with Patrick was going to be a living nightmare.

She stepped back and forced a smile. ‘You’re right. This idea is fabulous.’

‘Great.’

He picked up his notepad, but not before she’d glimpsed confusion creasing his brow. Join the club.

She’d always labelled their relationship as volatile. He’d taunt her, she’d fake aloofness, until they reached an impasse fraught with unresolved tension. At least on her behalf. For being around him back then had made her tense in a way she couldn’t describe. It had gone beyond exasperation at his deliberate teasing, had left her feeling…frustrated.

She’d put it down to being a hormone-ridden teen with a secret passion for romance novels and no time to date. And she was beyond grateful he’d never seemed clued in to her dissatisfaction.

He’d never given any hint he liked her as more than a friend, and she’d been deluded enough to believe her self-talk that she didn’t like him that way.

But she had.

It was why that kiss on graduation night had meant so much. And why she’d freaked out because of it.

Because a momentous kiss like that had the power to change dreams and hers had already been set in stone.

She would be the next CEO of Seaborns.

Nothing—no one—could change that.

So why the relentless yearning now? The feeling that she’d missed out on something and regretted it?

It annoyed her, this uncertainty. Usually she knew what she wanted and made it happen. Yesterday.

She didn’t like doubting herself. Or him, for that matter. And she did. A small part of her wondered how the larrikin teen could morph into this determined businessman and pull off something this big.

Having an inkling he was in this position purely because he’d got the job handed on a silver platter from his folks and having her suspicions confirmed by asking him was mutually exclusive. She couldn’t ask without alienating him or emasculating his pride and potentially stuffing this collaboration up before they’d really begun.

But she had to voice some of her doubts, couched in business terms.

‘While I think something like this could cause a sensation at Fashion Week, and make the world sit up and take notice of our companies, do you think it’s too ambitious?’

He glanced up from his notepad and stared at her as if she’d suggested he don one of the dresses.

‘One thing I’ve learned in this biz is to dream big. Go all out. Make an impact.’

He knew. Knew she doubted him. She saw it in the slightly narrowed eyes, the disappointment pinching the corners of his mouth.

‘If you’re questioning my credentials, why did you come here in the first place?’

Yep, he was mad. She’d never heard his voice like this: hard, flat monotone with a hint of ice.

‘I’m not questioning—’

‘Yeah, you are.’

He flung the pen he’d been holding onto his desk and raked a hand through his hair, ruffling the too-long-to-con-form whorls.