Secrets In The Boardroom: A Perfect Husband / The Boss's Secret Mistress / Between the CEO's Sheets

The words But what if I change my mind? balanced on the tip of her tongue. She hastily withdrew them as he padded across to the ornate liquor cabinet and splashed more brandy into a clean glass.

She had already made a string of rash decisions with regard to Zane. Before she made even more of a fool of herself, she needed to think things through.

Although the fact that she was going to make a fool of herself again was suddenly, glaringly, obvious.

Eleven

The following morning, Lilah woke, exhausted and heavy-eyed after a night spent tossing and turning.

She had lain awake for hours, listening to the sounds of the sea and Zane’s footsteps when he had finally gone to bed in the small hours. Aware of Zane, a short distance away in the next bedroom, she had eventually dropped off, only to wake periodically, thump her pillow into shape and try to sleep again.

Kicking the sheet aside, she padded to her bathroom and stared at her pale face and tangled hair in the mirror.

Zane’s withdrawal had created an odd reversal in her mind. Sexually, the ball was in her court. If she wanted him, it was clear she would have to make the first move. No more excuses or deception about who was driving what.

His demand had succeeded in focusing her mind. Now, instead of trying to talk herself out of a wild fling with Zane, she was consumed with how, exactly, one went about asking a man for sex.

Lilah showered and dressed in a white camisole and a pair of board shorts, a bikini beneath, in case she felt like a swim.

After applying sunscreen, she walked out to the kitchen, only to discover that the nervous tension that had dogged her all morning had been unnecessary. Zane had left the house early. According to Marta’s gestures and the few words Lilah could recognize, he had gone sailing.

Feeling relieved and deflated at the same time, she walked out on the deck where the table was set for breakfast. One glance at the empty sweep of the bay confirmed that the yacht was gone.

After breakfast she walked down to the beach and went for a swim. After sunbathing until she was dry, she walked back to the house, showered off the salt and changed back into the camisole and boardies.

To fill in time, she strolled through the house, examining the art on the walls, pausing at the watercolor that had been done by Sebastien Ambrosi.

Zane had said the painting was an actual place on the island, behind the villa. From the distant peaks included in the landscape, the cave was set on high ground. On impulse, she decided to see if she could find the cave and, at the same time, see if her cell phone would work.

Pulling on a pair of trainers, she slipped her cell in a pocket and indicated to Marta that she was going to walk to the place in the painting.

A few minutes exploring around the old villa site and she found the entrance to a narrow track that ran up through the steep hills behind the villa.

Twenty minutes of intermittent walking and climbing and she topped a rise. The view was magnificent. In the distance she could even make out hazy peaks that formed part of the mountainous inland region of Medinos. She hadn’t seen any evidence of the cave.

Sitting down on a rocky outcropping, she tried the phone, but the screen continued to glow with a “No Service” message.

Instead of feeling trapped and frustrated, she felt oddly relieved. She had done her duty, attempted to make contact with the outside world, and had failed.

She was clambering down a steep, rocky slope when she saw Zane’s yacht dropping anchor in the bay. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched Zane toss the inflatable over the side. In the same instant her foot slipped. A sharp pain shot up her ankle. She tried to correct her footing and ended up sliding the rest of the way down the bank.

Sucking in a breath, she tested her ankle, the same one she’d turned in Sydney. Annoyed with the injury, which, while minor, would make the trip down slow, she began to hobble in an effort to walk off the injury.

It started to rain. She was congratulating herself on traversing the narrowest, most precipitous part of the track with steep slopes on both sides, when she glimpsed Zane walking toward her and slipped again, this time landing flat on her back. She lay on the wet ground, eyes closed against the pelting rain, and counted to ten. When her lids flipped open, Zane was staring down at her, water dripping from his chin, wet T-shirt plastered to his torso faithfully outlining every ridge and muscle. “Two days. Paradise, you said.”

“It would have been if we’d spent the time in bed.”

“Huh.” She pushed into a sitting position and checked her ankle and in the process realized that the white camisole she was wearing was now practically invisible.

Zane crouched down beside her. Lean brown fingers closed around her ankle.

“Ouch. Don’t touch it.” Despite the slight tenderness, a jolt of purely sensual awareness shot through her.

His expression was irritatingly calm. “It’s not swollen, so it can’t be too sore. How did you do it?”

“I saw you and slipped. Twice.”

The accusation bounced off him. “Can you walk?”

“Yes.”

“Too bad.” He pulled her up until she was balanced on one foot then swung her into his arms.

The rain began to pelt down. She clutched at his shoulders. “I’m heavy.”

He glanced pointedly at her chest. “There are compensations.”

He continued on down the hill but instead of taking a broad track to the beach, he veered left heading for a dark tumble of rocks. They rounded a corner and a low opening became visible. “Sebastien’s cave.”

“I thought it might be near.”

The mouth to the cave was broad, allowing light to flow into the cavern. Ducking to avoid the rock overhang, Zane set Lilah down on one of the boulders that littered the opening. He shrugged out of the rucksack he had strapped to his back, unfastened the waterproof flap and extracted a flashlight. The bright beam cut through the gloom, revealing a dusty brass lantern balanced on a natural rock shelf and an equally dusty brass lighter lying beside it.

He crouched down and examined her ankle again. “A bandage would help.”

She retracted her ankle from his tingling grip. “I can wait for a bandage. Really, it isn’t that bad.”

“Bad enough that it’s starting to swell.” He peeled out of his T-shirt.

Murky light gleamed on ridged abs and muscled pecs, the darker striations of the two thin scars that crisscrossed his abdomen. One was shorter and lighter, as if it hadn’t been so serious, the other more defined and longer, curling just above one hip.

She dragged her gaze from the mesmerizing expanse of bronzed, sculpted muscle, abruptly aware that he knew exactly the effect he was having on her and that he was enjoying it. “Don’t you need to wear that?”

“It’s either my T-shirt or your top. You choose.”

She concentrated on keeping her gaze rigidly on the wadded T-shirt. “Yours.”

“Thought you’d say that.”

Using his teeth, he ripped a small hole near the hem of the shirt then tore a broad strip, working the tear until he ended up with a continuous run of bandage. Clasping her calf, he began to firmly wind the bandage around her ankle.

“Don’t tell me, you were a Boy Scout.”

“Sea Scout.” He ripped the trailing end of the bandage into two strips and tied it off.

“Ouch. Figures.”

He wound a finger in a damp strand of her hair and tugged. “Goes with the pirate image?”

She reclaimed her hair and tried to repress the brazen impulse to wallow in the jolt of killer charm and flirt back. “Yes.”

Rising to his feet before he gave in to temptation and kissed Lilah, Zane examined the lantern, which still contained an oily swill of kerosene.

He found a plastic lighter in the rucksack and tried to light it. Frustratingly, the lighter wouldn’t ignite. On closer inspection he discovered that the cheap firing mechanism had broken. Tossing the lighter back in the rucksack, he tried the old brass lighter, which had to date back before World War II. It fired instantly. Seconds later, the warm glow of the lantern lit up the cave. “Close on seventy years old and it still works. They should keep making stuff like this.”

Zane caught the quick flash of Lilah’s smile, and held his breath at the way it lit up her face, taking her from pale and gorgeous to high-voltage, sexily gorgeous.

She held his gaze with a boldness that took him by surprise and made his heart race then looked quickly away, her cheeks pink.

She shrugged. “Sometimes I forget you’re an Atraeus.”

He shrugged, his jaw clenched in an effort to control the sudden hot tension that gripped him, the desire to compound his sins by grabbing her and kissing her until she melted against him. He had to keep reminding himself he was trying for a measured, adult approach, in line with his desire to try an actual relationship. “Before I was an Atraeus I was a Salvatore. In L.A. that meant pretty much the opposite of what Atraeus means on Medinos.”

“And that’s when you got the scars?”

He found himself smiling grimly. “That’s right. Pre-Spiros.”

Picking up the lantern, he held it high. “Wait here. I’m going to check out the rest of the cavern.”

And take a few minutes to regain the legendary Atraeus control that, lately, was losing hands down to the hotheaded Salvatore kid he used to be.

When he returned, Lilah was on her feet. Automatically, he set the lantern down and steadied her, his hands at her waist.

She released the rock shelf she’d grabbed and clutched at his shoulders. “Every time I see you lately, I seem to lose my balance.”

“I’m not complaining.”

With a calm deliberation formulated during a sleepless night and several hours out on the water, he eased a half step closer, encouraging her to lean more heavily on him. “That’s better.”

She wound her arms around his neck with an automatic, natural grace that filled him with relief. Despite the disastrous conversation the previous night, she still wanted him.

Her breasts flattened against his chest, sending another jolt of sensual heat through him, but he couldn’t lose his cool. He had said that the next time they made love they were going to go about it in a rational, adult way, and he was sticking to that.

Lilah met his gaze squarely. “Why did you sail away on your own?”

A chilly gust of wind laced with rain swept into the cave.

“I wanted to give you time to think things through. If you had wanted off the island that badly, I would have taken you, but—”

“I don’t.”

His mouth went dry at her capitulation. A split second later thunder crashed directly overhead.

Lilah lifted a brow.

“Come and see what I found.” An uncomplicated satisfaction flowed through Zane as he picked up the lantern and helped Lilah through to the rear part of the cavern, which narrowed and curved then widened out to form a second room.

The cavern was furnished with a table and two chairs, a small antique dresser and a chaise longue. As dusty and faded as the furniture was, the overall effect was elegant and dramatic, like a set for an old Valentino movie.

“What is this place?”

Zane set Lilah down on one of the chairs and stripped what proved to be a dustcover off the chaise longue revealing red velvet upholstery. “I’d guess we’ve found the location of Sebastien Ambrosi’s love nest.”

Lilah touched the velvet. She had heard the tale from her grandmother, who had known Sebastien quite well. According to Ambrosi family history Sebastien had asked for Sophie Atraeus’s hand, but in order to save the then failing Atraeus finances, Sophie had been engaged to a wealthy Egyptian businessman. “Where he was supposed to meet with his lover, Sophie Atraeus.”

“You know your history.”

Zane’s gaze was focused and intent as he pulled pins out of her hair. Heart pounding, she clutched at his sleek shoulders. With slow deliberation, his mouth settled on hers. Automatically, she lifted up on her good foot and wound her arms around his neck.

The kiss was firm, but restrained. After a night of tortured wrestling with her values, all undermined by a fevered anticipation that had kept her from sleeping, it was not what she had expected.

Wry amusement glinted in his eyes. “I’m trying to slow things down a little.”

“Under the circumstances, it’s a little late to worry about being PC.”

His hands closed on her hips, pulling her in close against him. “Is that un-PC enough for you?”

She buried her face against his throat, breathing in his scent, reassured by his tentativeness, charmed by his consideration and the touches of humor. “What are you afraid of? That you might lose control and we’ll end up having unprotected sex?”

He reached into his pocket. Moments later he pressed a foil packet into her hand. “That won’t happen again.”

Suddenly the murky afternoon was hot and airless.

His mouth captured hers again, this time frankly hungry. She felt the hot glide of his palms on her chilled skin as he peeled the damp camisole up her rib cage. Obligingly, she lifted her arms so he could dispose of the garment altogether. Moments later her bra was gone.

She braced herself against his shoulders as he unfastened her shorts and peeled them along with her panties down her legs.

When he straightened, she unfastened and unzipped his jeans. He assisted by toeing off his trainers and stepping out of damp, tight denim.

Lacing her fingers with his, he pulled her close. Heat flooded her at the intimacy of skin on skin.

The sound of the wind increased, damp air stirred through the cavern, raising gooseflesh on her skin. Zane wrapped her close. “This is no place to make love.”

She buried her face in the muscled curve of shoulder and neck and breathed in his scent. “It was good enough for Sebastien and Sophie.”

“Almost seventy years ago.” He cupped her nape and fastened his teeth gently on the lobe of one ear, sending a bolt of heat clear through her. “I was thinking modern-day bed, silk sheets, soft music.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Back in L.A.,” he said drily.

Releasing her, he pulled her down with him onto the chaise longue, their legs tangling, the weight of him shatteringly intimate. The chaise longue was narrow and unexpectedly hard, but the discomfort was instantly forgotten as the heat of his body swamped her.

She kissed him, wanting him with a fierceness that shook her. She could feel the heat and shape of him against her inner thigh and remembered the foil packet, which she was still holding. “I might need some help with this.”

His teeth gleamed. He relieved her of the condom. “Leave it to me.”

With expert movements, he sheathed himself, reminding her that while she was a novice, Zane operated at the other end of the scale. His experience and conquests were legendary. Seconds later, he moved between her legs. She felt the hot pressure of him, a moment of shaky vulnerability at what she was allowing, then the aching rush of pleasure.

For long seconds she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Zane simply held himself inside her, his gaze locked with hers. And endless moment later he began to move. Not hurried and edged by anxiety, but a slow, tender rhythm that squeezed her chest tight, gathered her whole being. Lovemaking as opposed to the stormy few seconds they had shared in Sydney.

Zane’s gaze locked with hers as sensation drew them together, swept her in dizzying waves, shoving her over an invisible precipice as the coiled intensity shattered.

For long minutes Lilah floated, disconnected and content, happy to wallow in the intimacy of Zane’s solid weight, the heart-pounding knowledge that there was much more to lovemaking than she had ever imagined.

As if he’d read her thoughts, he lifted his head and braced himself on one elbow. He framed her face with his free hand, stroking his thumb across her bottom lip. “Next time, we’re making love in a bed.”

Twelve

The vibration of Zane’s cell broke the warm contentment.

He extracted his phone from his jeans and checked the screen. “Sorry. Work call. The downside of a satellite connection.” Pulling on his jeans, he walked out into the first part of the cavern to take the call.

Cold now that Zane was gone, Lilah found her damp clothes and quickly dressed. The squall had passed and watery sunshine filtered into the cave, relieving the oppressive gloom.

Curious about the meeting place of the two lovers who apparently had been forbidden to see each other, she studied the room. When Sophie had disappeared during a bombing raid during the war, it was rumored that Sebastien had taken her with him to Australia. Sebastien had denied the claim. The unresolved questions had been a bone of contention between the two families ever since.

Lilah opened a cupboard in the dresser and found a small wooden box and a letter. The box contained a missing set of bridal jewels that she instantly recognized. She had designed jewelry based on Sebastien’s sketches of this very set. They had belonged to the Atraeus family, and Sebastien had been blamed for stealing them.

Heart speeding up, she extracted a piece of fragile, yellowed paper. She could read a little Medinian, better than she could speak it, enough to know she was looking at a love letter.

Zane strolled in, sliding the phone into his jeans pocket. She showed him the jewels then handed him the letter.

“Sophie Atraeus’s final love letter to Sebastien Ambrosi.” He set the letter down beside the casket of jewels. “Well, that solves the mystery. Sophie boarded one of the ships that sank with all hands. She was lost at sea.”

“And she left the bridal jewels here.”

“Probably for safekeeping. When the islands were evacuated, a lot of families hid their valuables in caves. To Sophie it would have made perfect sense.”

Lilah touched her fingertips to a delicate filigree necklace. “These are more than jewels, they’re history. And a record of love.”

Zane’s dark, assessing gaze rested on her.

Feeling faintly embarrassed, she closed the box and tested her weight on her sore ankle. “I think I can walk now.”

Zane took the box from her, set it down on the table and drew her close. “Not yet. Later.”

By the time they left the cave, the storm had cleared and it was twilight. A slow walk down the hillside, heavily assisted by Zane, and they reached the house on sunset. The fairy-tale quality of the afternoon extended into the evening with another candlelit dinner beneath the stars.

The tension of the previous night seemed a distant memory as the dishes were cleared away. When Zane pulled back her chair and linked his fingers with hers, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to go to bed together.

When Lilah woke the next morning, she was alone. Feeling disappointed, because she had looked forward to waking up with Zane, she quickly showered and dressed in a white halterneck top and muslin skirt. When she walked out onto the deck, still limping slightly, Zane was seated at the table, drinking coffee and answering emails.

Zane got to his feet and held her chair. “Your ankle’s still swollen.”

“Only a little. The stiffness should wear off while I walk.” Feeling let down that he hadn’t kissed her, but reasoning that Zane was probably distracted by whatever work situation he was dealing with, she sat and poured herself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

“You won’t need to walk much.” Zane bent down and kissed her on the mouth.

The warm pressure, the sudden intensity of his gaze, broke her tension. The dire suspicion implanted by a number of women’s magazine articles, that now they had made love and she was a “sure thing” Zane was losing interest, receded.

Zane checked his watch as he returned to his seat. “We’re going back to Medinos. I’ve called in a ride.

By ride, Zane had meant the Atraeus family’s private helicopter. Concerned about her ankle and despite her objections, Zane insisted she should get it checked out by a doctor. The helicopter set them down in the grounds of the Castello Atraeus. Zane transferred their luggage to his car and drove her to a private clinic located in downtown Medinos.

They were greeted by a plump and cheerful doctor. A few minutes later they were back out on the street. Lilah, now almost free of the irritating limp, walked as briskly as she could toward the car.

Now that they were back on Medinos, she was aware that as wonderful and earth-shattering as her time with Zane was, it had to be over. She couldn’t afford to abandon her arrangements just because Zane wanted to be with her for a few days.

Zane insisted on helping her into the passenger-side seat then slid behind the wheel with a masculine grace she doggedly ignored. She would have to get used to viewing him as one of her bosses again, although with the sleek width of his shoulders almost brushing hers and the hot scent of his skin it was going to be difficult.

“Okay,” he said flatly. “What’s wrong?”

Lilah ignored the flash of irritation in his eyes and tried to focus on her happy place, which at present was the bland fence that encircled the parking lot. “Nothing. I need some processing time.”

He actually had the gall to pinch the bridge of his nose as if he was under extreme stress. “This would be a feminine thing.”

Her gaze clashed with his and the fact that she had not only made love with Zane a number of times but was actually considering canceling the series of blind dates she had set up for next week, for him, hit her forcibly.

She stared at the masculine planes of his face, the narrowed eyes and tough jaw, the moment of disorientation growing.

He was too wealthy, too attractive and too used to getting exactly what he wanted. The wild fling had been a mistake. She must have been out of her mind thinking that she could ever control any part of a relationship with Zane. “We’ve had the two days, it has to be over.”

His brows jerked together. “We could spend a few more days together. I know you have vacation time coming up, but you don’t fly back to Sydney until the end of next week.”

She felt her brain scramble. “An affair wasn’t on my priority list. I have things to do—”

“Like checking out online marriage prospects.”

There was a ringing silence. “I don’t know how you knew that, but yes.”

“Stay with me until the end of the week.” He started the engine and put the car in gear.

Her chest squeezed tight as he turned on to the spectacular coast road with its curvy white-sand beaches and sea views. After which time she would seldom see Zane, if at all, because he worked mostly in the States.

“Talk to me, Lilah.”

She turned her head, which was a mistake, because Zane’s gaze was neither cool nor distant, but contained a flash of vulnerability that tugged at her heart. For a split second she was filled with the dizzying knowledge that Zane truly wanted to be with her. “I don’t know that it’s a good idea to continue.”

Lilah’s fingers clenched on her handbag. The last thing she had expected was that Zane, with his freewheeling approach to love, would try to keep her with him, even if only for a few days.

She should hold firm and finish it now. Staying with Zane could wreck her plans for the secure marriage she needed. She was already distinctly unmotivated at the thought of meeting the men in her file.

But it was also a fact that since she had undertaken the search for a husband a great many things had changed; she had changed.

She was now financially secure and no longer based in Sydney. The financial pressure of her mother’s mortgage was gone.

She was no longer a virgin.

The difference that made was unexpectedly huge. She now knew that if she was not passionately attached to her prospective husband, she would not be able to go through with the physical side of the relationship.