Bad Influence

She returned him a look of cool dignity which she hoped would override the betraying hint of pink in her cheeks. ‘If you’re going to make coarse remarks like that, I shall walk off the dance-floor.’

He chuckled with laughter, the arm around her waist tightening just a fraction, as if to warn her not to try it. ‘I see you got your diamonds,’ he remarked, a hard edge in his voice. ‘Quite a set—the real thing too. You have been busy since the last time we met. Found yourself some rich fool to marry, did you? Who is it? That pasty-faced creep you were dancing with when I came in?’

‘Robin isn’t a creep!’ she protested hotly.

‘He isn’t man enough for you.’ He had drawn her closer, his warm breath stirring her hair, his hand sliding slowly down the length of her spine to mould intimately over the smooth curve of her derrière. ‘Don’t you sometimes wish, when you feel his scrawny hands on your smooth, satin skin, for a real lover?’ he taunted provocatively. ‘One whose touch would be warm and gentle on your soft, naked body—who would caress those ripe, firm, beautiful breasts with tenderness and who would make love to you all night, in every way you could possibly imagine…?’

Georgia drew in a sharp breath, shocked not so much by his words as by her own reaction to them; breathing the musky, male scent of him was conjuring a memory of that brief encounter on his yacht, a memory so vivid that she felt as if she was once again naked in his arms, her mouth bruised by his kisses, her creamy smooth skin flushed beneath that insolent dark gaze.

It took a considerable effort of will to regather the scattered threads of her composure. But she couldn’t let herself weaken—she knew only too well how swiftly he could take advantage of any lowering of her resistance. From beneath her lashes, she studied him warily. It seemed that he still didn’t know who she was. It was possible, of course—he had been here no more than a few minutes, and he might not have bothered to ask anyone her name.

Or, on the other hand, he could be playing some kind of cruel game with her. If he was the mysterious figure behind the holding company that was buying up Geldard shares, she was quite sure he would try to use their previous meeting to gain an unfair advantage—there was no mistaking the hint of ruthlessness about that hard mouth.

Either way, she had to keep her nerve, keep planning her moves. And, for the moment, it seemed that the best tactic was to play the confident, sexually assured siren he had taken her for. It was hardly a role that came naturally to her, but all she had to do was copy Margot’s style—it couldn’t be that difficult.

Slanting him a flirtatious smile, she lifted her eyes to his. ‘I…didn’t know you were planning to come to England,’ she remarked carefully. ‘You didn’t mention it.’

Only the slightest flicker of those dark eyes registered his surprise at her change of manner. ‘Well, now, as I recall we didn’t get too much time to talk about anything before you disappeared from my life,’ he responded on a note of mocking humour. ‘But since the only thing I knew about you was that you were English—at least I figured that from your accent—it seemed like the best way to find you was to come to London.’

Heavens, he must think she was stupid! She laughed lightly, hiding her annoyance behind a gloss of sophisticated amusement. ‘Really? You didn’t exactly rush, though—it’s been nearly three months.’

‘Ah, well…Unfortunately there were one or two business matters that forced me to go back to Australia first,’ he explained. ‘But I came as soon as I could.’

She shook her head, mimicking Margot’s best arch mannerisms. ‘No, really—what are you doing here?’ she persisted. ‘Do you have business interests in England?’

‘A few,’ he conceded, those enigmatic dark eyes giving nothing away. ‘I’m just looking around for anything that catches my eye. I’ve already picked up a nice little filly—as a matter of fact I named her Blondie, after you.’

Georgia’s jaw was aching with the effort of maintaining her smile. ‘So I saw in the paper. Am I supposed to be flattered?’

‘I like the name,’ he countered genially. ‘And I don’t know your real one.’

She laughed the implied question aside. ‘And where’s your other “filly” tonight?’ she enquired, trying for an air of worldly unconcern. ‘Not with you?’

‘You mean Sheena? No, she’s working—Paris or Rome or somewhere. Why do you ask?’

‘Oh, just…mildly curious,’ she responded, not quite able to keep her voice as even as she would have liked.

‘Not jealous, by any chance, are you?’ he taunted.

‘Jealous? Of course not.’ She shrugged her slim shoulders in a gesture of unconcern. ‘I have no reason to be jealous.’

‘No, you don’t,’ he murmured, drawing her closer again. ‘She’s almost as beautiful as you, but she doesn’t kiss like you. You tasted like honey and melted in my arms like a dream…’

‘I was…half-drowned,’ she choked out, her mask abruptly slipping.

‘So you were,’ he conceded softly, mockingly. ‘But you’re not half-drowned now.’

With a small stab of alarm she realised that he had waltzed her out through the open French windows at the far end of the dance-floor into a cool marble atrium, where a green cast-iron fountain played amid a riot of tropical palms beneath a high glass-domed ceiling. Before she could protest, he had drawn her back into the shadows behind one of the Doric columns that ran around the outer rim, and his mouth had claimed hers in a kiss that she didn’t know how to resist.

His lips moved over hers, warm and sensuous, and with a soft sigh she surrendered to their sweet persuasion, granting him admission to the moist, secret depths he sought. The musky male scent of his skin was drugging her mind, stirring an instinctive response that was far beyond the reach of reason.

She was curving herself into his demanding embrace, her tender breasts crushed against the hard wall of his chest, her spine melting in the heat that was swirling in her blood. His sensuous tongue coiled around hers as his hands moulded intimately over the soft curves of her body with that warm, tender touch he had promised…

‘Why did you disappear like that?’ he breathed, the husky timbre of his voice caressing her. ‘I thought I’d never see you again. If it hadn’t been for one very damp blanket on the floor by the open window I might have thought you were a figment of my dreams. And now that I’ve found you, I don’t want to let you go—I want to make love to you…’

Abruptly his words brought her back to reality. What in hell was she doing, letting him kiss her again when she knew that he was a threat to everything she had worked for—everything her grandfather had worked for? Summoning all her strength, she forced her hands between them, struggling to push him away.

‘Damn that bloodless creep and his diamonds,’ he cursed, misunderstanding her reaction. ‘I can buy you diamonds—all the diamonds you want. Come upstairs to my suite and let me remind you what it’s like to be touched by hands that still have some warmth in them…’

‘Stop it—let me go…’ she begged, her voice rising in panic. ‘Leave me alone…’

‘It’s all right, Miss Geldard, we’ve got him!’

As Georgia blinked in bewilderment a sixteen-stone gorilla in a white dinner jacket caught Jake from behind in a massive bear-hug, dragging him off her as another swung a punch at his head. With the instincts of a street-fighter he ducked, the blow hitting the first gorilla square on the jaw as Jake barged the second in a low rugby tackle, bringing him down in a sprawling heap—and the world erupted in a mêlée of flying fists and the exploding flashbulbs of Press cameras.

‘Stop it! You’ve made a mistake!’ she cried, wishing she could vanish through the floor as the atrium filled with curious guests, coming out to stare.

Slowly the struggling mass on the floor resolved itself into three bruised and bloodied men, who drew cautiously apart and rose to their feet, eyeing each other with considerable hostility and suspicion. Jake shook his head, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to dab gingerly at a trickle of blood on his lip.

‘Would somebody mind telling me what in hell’s going on?’ he demanded, looking from his assailants to Georgia and back again.

She drew in a deep, steadying breath. ‘I’m…sorry,’ she managed, conscious of the flaming heat in her cheeks. ‘These men are from the security firm responsible for protecting my diamonds.’

‘We thought you was trying to pinch ‘em,’ the first gorilla supplied. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Geldard—we was watching you dancing and everything looked kosher. Then the next minute you was missing, and when we got out here it looked like you was…having a bit of bother. I…suppose we jumped to the wrong conclusion,’ he added sheepishly. ‘No hard feelings, mate?’ he added to Jake. ‘We was just doing our job.’

Jake grinned, accepting the massive hand that was being held out to him. ‘No hard feelings,’ he conceded, the glint of amusement in his half-closed eye suggesting to Georgia that he had quite enjoyed the scrap.

‘You put up a damned good show,’ the other gorilla admitted with wry admiration. ‘If you’re ever looking for a job, we could use you on the firm.’

‘Thank you,’ Jake responded, shaking his hand solemnly. ‘I hope I won’t ever need to be, but if I am I’ll remember that.’

The flashbulbs exploded again, to catch the moment. ‘Miss Geldard, what are the diamonds worth?’ one of the photographers called out, delighted with this unexpected bonus on an evening when they had anticipated nothing more than deadly dull society snaps.

With a swift step, Jake interposed himself between her and the cameras. ‘I think you have enough pictures,’ he asserted grimly. ‘Miss Geldard is tired.’

There was a murmur of protest, but no one seemed inclined to argue with him. With some reluctance, the crowd and the photographers drifted slowly back to the ballroom. The security guards were the last to go, leaving them alone.

Georgia lifted her hand to her hair, trying in vain to tuck back the strands that were slipping from the elegant arrangement her hairdresser had created. Nervously she flicked a glance up at Jake, who was leaning one wide shoulder against the stone pillar beside them, easing his grazed knuckles.

‘Well, Miss Geldard,’ he remarked, adding a sardonic emphasis to her name. ‘I suppose you could say that we’ve now been formally introduced—in a manner of speaking.’

She lowered her lashes, her cheeks flushing faintly pink. ‘Yes, well…I’m very sorry for the…misunderstanding…’

He shouted with laughter. ‘Well, that’s an understatement! There was I, thinking you’d found yourself a nice wealthy sugar-daddy, and what do you know? Turns out you’re a little Croesus in your own right!’ He lifted the heavy diamond collar around her throat on one finger, regarding it with the expert eye of one who knew his gemstones. ‘Very nice too—and worth a cool half a million, at least. No wonder you need bodyguards.’

‘Quite.’ With an effort of will, she lifted her eyes to meet his, all her icy dignity restored. ‘However, although there’s no “bloodless creep” on the scene, I’m afraid I must regretfully decline your charming invitation to go upstairs to your suite. I have no taste for casual one-night stands.’

He laughed without humour. ‘That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.’