Momentarily disorientated, he snapped his eyes up to Holly standing in the doorway with the ever-present notepad and pen. For a few seconds he allowed himself to drink in her neat little figure, the curve of her cheek, the way her eyes steadily met his perusal. And as he did so, the vibrating bitterness gradually seeped out, leaving him suddenly empty and icy cold.

With a nod of finality, he shut those thoughts down and rose.

An excruciating hour later, Jake’s normally tight control was in tatters. They’d gone through every floor in Blackstone’s and he’d spent precisely sixty-two minutes in Holly’s orbit, her gentle fragrance alternately arousing and frustrating him. Her soft, animated voice had tripped over his senses, aided traitorously by the memory of that kissy-mole when her mouth curved into a smile. When she walked, he’d ashamedly found his attention riveted to those curvy hips, swaying one tantalizing step ahead of him.

And her smell… He’d breathed in deeply, guiltily, more than once. Since when had a woman smelled so damn good?

The only time he’d not been thinking about touching her was when they’d passed Howard’s trophy wall. Photos of the man opening the Blackstone’s store. At some formal function. Shaking hands with the Prime Minister, the Queen, four U.S. past-presidents.

Jake had barely been able to contain a sneer. Howard had loved putting his stamp on everything he owned, flaunting his wealth and power. Like the way he’d displayed it on Ursula’s neck.

Disgust bubbled up and with a scowl he choked it back down. He was not like Howard, despite Kimberley’s assertion.

“Let’s move on.”

He jumped at Holly’s soft intrusion, only to have his body react on a more primitive level when his eyes focused on her curves once again. The grey pinstriped skirt moulded her hips, emphasising a defined waist and womanly hips. Her shirt was bright blue, making her eyes stand out, the elbow-length sleeves showing off long arms with a watch on one wrist, a simple gold bangle on the other.

Absently he’d wondered if she had on any makeup at all, given how fresh her face looked. How touchable it looked.

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and nodded. He imagined Holly taking the news about his real identity with outward calm, a facade that covered up the fact she was a deep thinker. He’d noticed more than once the realities of her thoughts clearly mirrored in her expressive blue eyes.

No, not blue, more green. Like the complexity of shades in the deep ocean, where the—

His thoughts screeched to a halt. Since when had he obsessed about a woman’s eyes before?

Yet despite his control, an unwanted ache started in his groin. An ache that couldn’t be ignored when, an hour after the tour was over, Jake shoved his way into Blackstone’s executive gym.

Instead of solitude, a stretching Holly on the treadmill confronted him, scattering all thoughts of a long hard run to clear his mind.

He stared. And stared. In short bike pants and a cropped sports top, she was gripping one tanned muscular leg behind her in a quad stretch, the white Lycra pulling tight across her breasts as they rose with her deep breaths. As his mouth went dry, she rolled her shoulders and her long ponytail dragged over her damp skin.

Her breath sighed out, quickly engulfing his brain, the part that was still functioning.

His bag dropped unheeded to the floor. She kept right on stretching, her shoulder blades flexing and contracting with the effort.

Swish of the hair.

Deep sigh.

He groaned, ready to beat a hasty retreat, but she must have sensed him because she whirled, pulling out her earbuds. She quickly dropped her leg and grabbed her towel, her chest rising as a trickle of sweat ran down her throat and disappeared in the cleft beneath her damp tank. He followed that journey, until he reluctantly dragged his eyes back up to meet hers.

“Leaving?” he murmured.

“Yes.” In record time, she pulled a sweatshirt over her head then scooped up her bag, quickly heading for the door.

He just stood there, the air as she hightailed it past him yawning cold and empty. Then he heard the door click with finality.

As the gym doors closed behind her, Holly wrapped her arms around her body to ward off the chill. Escape first, then put on your track pants. She thought she’d nearly succeeded until Jake appeared beside her.

“Yours,” he said gruffly, holding out her iPod. She paused, glanced at his hand, then up at his face. A blank, stern face devoid of all warmth.

She slowly took her iPod and couldn’t help but notice he relinquished it without making skin contact. “Thanks.” She turned back to the elevator, repositioned her bag on her shoulder and stared at the ascending floor numbers.

When he remained still, she shot a quick look in his direction. “Working late?”

“This is early for me.”

She smiled thinly but said nothing.

“But…?” he prompted.

“Don’t you ever take a day off?”

He shrugged. “Too much work to do.”

“What’s the point of making all that money if you can’t enjoy yourself?”

He frowned. “I’m not unhappy with what I’ve achieved, Holly. Money doesn’t make you miserable.”

“No. People do that all by themselves.” The elevator doors swung open, signalling the end to their strange conversation. But to Holly’s surprise he followed her in. The doors swished closed and in the next second, he pushed the stop button.

“And to answer your question, I enjoy myself plenty.”

She stilled, her breath rattling around, too harsh in her throat, her heart beating too loudly in her chest. She looked at him, noting his narrowed eyes, the sudden tension in his body as it practically sizzled…not with anger but something else, something indefinable that he struggled to contain.

Apprehension chugged through her body, leaving her immobile. Wasn’t he supposed to be ice cold in the face of adversity?

Then he fixed on her mouth and she felt a hot flush start in her belly and fan upwards. She parted her lips, the air in her lungs thickly seeping out. Was he actually thinking about kissing her?

He moved quickly, so smoothly for a man the size of Ayers Rock that it took the rest of her breath away. Or maybe it was the kiss stealing all her will to function properly. It froze her limbs, stuttered her heartbeat. Erased all the memories of other kisses that had come before.

When his hot mouth covered hers in deep possession, his hands buried in her hair, preventing escape, a low groan escaped her. The kiss, the sheer power and force of it, stole her will, along with any denials she may have entertained. All that existed was Jake and the force of his kiss, the utter command of his lips sliding over hers and his tongue invading her mouth.

She took a deep, shuddering breath as her eyes fluttered closed. His smell was so different from anything she’d experienced, the heat, the passion. When his hands cupped her face, holding her in place, Holly kissed him right back.

* * *

It did Jake in, finally having her lush mouth beneath his, that tiny mole teasing the corner, his to kiss. The mole that had distracted him time and again for hours on end.

Her skin scorched him, as if a furnace burned just below the surface. Suddenly the desire to have her naked, to be against the rest of that silken skin, crashed into him.

His hands were under her sweatshirt and he hit what he was seeking—hot, damp flesh. But like an addict craving more, he wasn’t satisfied with the mere touch of her skin, the feel of her rib cage under his questing hand. He wanted—needed—more.

With his blood pounding thickly in his veins, the ache in his groin an almost unbearable tightness, he found the edge of her tank top and eased his way under to the gentle curve of one breast.

Her sudden gasp snapped him back to reality, and he wrenched his mouth away from the temptation of hers.

What the hell are you doing?

From a great gaping distance he heard Holly’s breathless question, thick with passion.

“Jake?”

She’d never know how difficult it was to withdraw from the pleasures her body promised. How much he ached to succumb to the raging passion that forced beads of sweat to run down his back.

Desire grabbed at him, yanked and twisted his brain until he was left hot, hard and frustrated. But with a shuddering sigh, he withdrew and stepped back, the cool air rushing into the gaping chasm between their bodies.

“Pull your shirt down,” he said, knowing it came out more harshly than he intended when the light of desire flickered and died on Holly’s face.

Self-disgust filled him, quickly followed by guilt. He’d lost control. For the first time in years he’d lost it.

He wanted to reach out to her, offer some kind of apology, but if her crossed arms and steely back were any indication, he’d have a better chance of flying to the moon.

Slowly, he released the emergency stop button and with a sudden jerk, the elevator started up. “I’ll take you home.”

She shot him an incredulous look. “I’m not your responsibility, Jake. I can catch a cab.”

“Look,” he said slowly, turning to her. “We…”

“Jake, I understand.” She refused to meet his eyes as the elevator doors slid open. “It’s not a big deal.”

Jake stared at her retreating back, the words stuck to the roof of his mouth. Not a big deal? So how come he suddenly felt the urgency to taste her right now? To have those shapely legs wrap around his waist and feel the erotic glide as he buried himself deep inside her?

Dammit. Now he was hard again.

With a soft curse, he pressed the basement button before he did something even more foolish than what he’d just already done.

As the morning sun crept cautiously into her bedroom, Holly lay staring at the ceiling. What on earth had possessed her to kiss Jake Vance? The implication sent a wave of cold reality over her hot skin. They’d been about to… She shook her head. And how she had wanted to. Still wanted to.

It shouldn’t be. He stood for everything she despised, everything that had taken away her family and forced her into this spying role. But when she tried summoning up righteous anger all that emerged was an overwhelming mesh of confusion. It happened every time he glanced her way, ran that frankly sensual gaze over her face, let it linger on her mouth.

Despite her best efforts, she was acutely interested in him. How could she be so attracted if he was truly the bad guy everyone was intent on perpetuating?

You’re an intelligent woman, Holly McLeod. Apart from one obvious glitch, you can tell the good guys from the bad. Yet Jake was a study in extremes. Corporate raider or saviour? Genuine attraction or predatory lust? He’d gotten her so wound up she didn’t know what to believe any more.

Deep in thought, she walked slowly into the bathroom, and by the time she’d fixed her makeup and left for work, her bad mood had been replaced by the day’s schedule.

She walked into Blackstone’s foyer with a sigh of relief. With coffee in one hand, handbag in the other, she’d survived the early morning bustle of George Street and a sharp biting wind that had determinedly yanked at her coattails. But after she pushed the elevator button and the doors opened, her luck ran out.

Jake Vance. In the flesh. In the warm, heated, taut flesh that she knew felt, smelled, tasted divine.

“Good morning, Holly.”

The warm intimacy of his voice, combined with the small interior swamped her, leaving goose bumps on her skin.

“Good morning.” She repositioned her cappuccino while hitching her bag on her shoulder.

As the elevator sped smoothly upwards, she surreptitiously eyed him. Twice she started to say something, and twice she hesitated, swallowing the words on the tip of her tongue. Surely he’d say something about last night, even just to set her straight with a familiar It didn’t mean anything. Let’s just keep things professional.

Yet he remained silent, reading his newspaper in complete and utter concentration. As she stared at his firm grip on the pages, her brain flashed back to last night, to this same place, to those long skilful fingers. The way they’d teased. The way he’d touched her as his tongue had eased inside her mouth.

She swallowed a shocked gasp, snapping her focus back to the doors.

“Do you have anything specific on the agenda today?” She forced cool professionalism into her voice. Unfortunately, her idea of broaching a business-related topic only effectively made her the center of his attention.

His slow perusal of her was thorough and hot. She tried to ignore it but on every level, her body tingled with the attention. Instead she determinedly stared at the ascending numbers. Surely if you don’t look at him, he’ll lose his effect. Like a solar eclipse.

“I have meetings,” he said. “Look, Holly. About last night.”

And here it comes. Holly shook her head, hot embarrassment flooding her cheeks as the doors slid open. Quickly she strode out, escaping the warm intimacy that reminded her of last night. He followed closely. “You don’t need to—”

“It was—”

The both paused awkwardly as Holly unlocked the glass door until she blurted out, “It doesn’t matter. Really.”

His eyes narrowed, darkening. “Doesn’t it?” he challenged. “I think it matters more than you want to admit.”

“How would you know?” She tried for nonchalance as she walked in and placed her coffee carefully on the desk.

“Because I know how to read people. You were an eager participant in that kiss.”

She flushed. “Is that how you win—by figuring out what people want then turning it against them?”

“I present them with an offer they can’t refuse.”

On another man, the arrogance would have forced a sharp, scornful rebuttal from her lips. On Jake, there was no egotism or conceit. It was simply a statement of truth.

She tipped her head. “So there’s nothing you’ve wanted that you couldn’t have.”

Danger. She sensed it the very moment Jake’s eyes darkened. The air seemed to thicken, and the seconds ticked by on the clock so loudly they echoed the beat of her heart as it upped tempo.

“I still have…things I want to achieve.”

She finally dragged her eyes away, unable to bear the intensity in his any longer. It was like a promise, a weird prediction of the future, of her and him together. Completely.

“What about a wife? A child to leave all your wealth to?”

“Eventually.” A stab of emotion, totally unexpected, tightened his jaw for one brief second. Then he blinked and his signature expression of cool blankness took over.

So he had thought about that. And letting her know irritated him, for some reason. Why? Did he view it as some kind of weakness? Or… She swallowed a small guilty breath. Did Mia’s betrayal still affect the unfeeling Mr Midas Touch?

After he closed his office door, Holly suddenly realised they’d both avoided discussing the implications of last night. And that non-closure worried her.

Five

Any normal girl would be out on a date Saturday night, Holly muttered to herself as she walked into Blackstone’s, bravado propelling her forward. Not at work, spying on her boss. Not sneaking around, trying to uncover Jake’s big plot to bring down Blackstone’s.

As the elevator sped up to the top floor, Holly recalled the past hour. Kimberley had offered her two tickets to the Alex Perry fashion show at the Powerhouse Museum as compensation for pulling her from the preparations. Sitting through the traditional bridal theme closing with gorgeous women strutting about in stunning white gowns wasn’t exactly what Holly had in mind to occupy her thoughts. Then she’d spotted Jake in the front row and her evening had suddenly ratcheted up in the interesting column.

He was seated next to one of Blackstone’s prominent shareholders, engaged in deep conversation, when some sixth sense must have told him he was being watched. He glanced up and pinned her with his dark gaze.

Her clothes had suddenly felt constrictive. She may as well have been naked sitting there, the off-the-shoulder wraparound designer blouse providing absolutely no coverage whatsoever.

He had no right to stare at her like that. And less right to make her feel…hot. Bothered.

Aroused.

She rose quickly, murmured something about fresh air to Miko, her surprised flatmate, and made her way to the exit. Strobe lights flashed behind her, loud music throbbed low and sensual, but she kept right on walking—even when she realised that Jake had a perfect view of her backside clad in skintight black velvet hipsters. Another brilliant decision gone horribly wrong.

She was waiting in line at the open-air bar, eyeing the congregation of smokers on her left, when a man broke free from the group and strode over.

Max.

A wave of cigarette smoke reached her before he did and burnt her nostrils. She barely suppressed a cough of distaste as he crossed his arms on the bar next to her, bumping his shoulder into hers.

“What are you doing here?” she said and angled away.

“Socializing. Having a few drinks. Keeping an eye on you. You’ve been avoiding me.”

Ignoring his oh-so-charming smirk, she reached for her glass but quickly recoiled when Max reached it first.

He frowned. “Holls, don’t be like that.”

She just scowled and pulled the glass back, wine slopping over the rim as she resisted the overwhelming desire to clock him with it.

“Jake’s getting to you, huh?”

She gritted her teeth, praying for control. “Haven’t you got someone else to blackmail, Max?”

Max laughed an unpleasant bark. “Watch it, Holls. It’s not just me who’s got something to lose here.”

“You were the one sleeping around. You were the one who offered me up as Jake’s assistant. And you—”

“And you were the one who didn’t say no to sex on my desk. We had a good time, Holly. Admit it—you got off on the whole ‘secret and forbidden’ thing.”

Disbelief rendered her speechless. She didn’t know what was worse, her raging stupidity for ignoring Blackstone’s morality clause, or her naivety for thinking she’d be any different from the rest of Max’s women.

It was those innocent choirboy looks, complete with a mop of golden curls that made Max Carlton such a hit. The men liked him for his after-hours drinks and blokey talk about football and women. The women were flattered by his charm and good looks. And to her surprise, there’d been a spark of interest despite the unofficial gossip. He was an attractive smooth-talker and everyone knew it, especially Max Carlton.

So you fell for it and now he’s got you over a barrel. Way to go, Holly.

“What do you want?” Before she could blink, he took her arm and steered her across the courtyard to a dark corner.

She wrenched from his grip, her breath coming quick and angry. Thank goodness for public places. Past him, she noticed the caterer’s tables, the half-dozen people setting up for the hungry masses.

“What have you found out?”

“Nothing,” she said, disgust clogging her voice. “Jake Vance is above board on this one.”

Max smiled thinly. “We’re talking about the same guy, right? Men like Vance don’t just waltz into a company with good intentions. They destroy them.”

“He’s not here for a takeover. And I’m sure Ric or Ryan would have—”

Max snorted. “They’re too busy playing happy families. Vance has ’em fooled. Listen.” He stepped closer, an intimidating figure in the half-shadows. “I’ve got a good thing going at Blackstone’s and I plan to keep it that way. Just get me proof of Vance’s intentions. After I get compensated by the board—”

“You’ll sign off on my permanent PR transfer.”

“Yeah, sure.” He reached out to touch her cheek but she flinched. He narrowed his eyes. “Make no mistake, Holly. If you blab, I’ll take you down with me. Whom do you think the board will believe?”

Then he swiftly tipped the glass of wine down her shirt. Holly choked off a squeal and jumped back, too late. The dark wet stain spread rapidly over the chiffon, dripping down her front.

Max looked nonplussed. “Jake’s busy chatting up the models. Go back to the office and change. And check out his desk.”

The elevators pinged open, startling Holly into the present. The insides of her mouth were arid and scratchy. It was all about Max—his job, his comfort. No thought as to how this corporate espionage went against every decent bone in her body.

She tamped a lid on her emotions. Panic had never solved her problems before; it wouldn’t now.

Slowly she walked out, unlocked the glass doors then closed them behind. She’d worked late and on the weekends before, which meant the security guy had suspected nothing amiss. She’d strode into the building with her head held high, even tossing him a wave as she walked over to the executive elevator. But now, standing stock still inside the darkened office, trepidation fluttered in her belly.

“Just get changed and leave,” she muttered to herself. “You can stall Max another couple of days.”

Bolstered, she turned on the desk lamp and laid her key card on the filing cabinet. She checked the hallway then plucked a shirt from her locker and swung open Jake’s office door.

She changed in the shadows, and just as quickly, she scanned his desk. The brochures she’d finally managed to give him lay open on the top. She glanced at the financials in his in tray.

No. You can’t.

Yet what could she do? It was either help Max or get fired. Despite her desperate need for the money, she genuinely loved working here. She’d carved a niche, made friends and garnered the respect of her colleagues. She prided herself on working hard and being professional, and Kimberley, for one, had noticed that.

So professional you breached your employment contract and had sex with your boss.

She swallowed, fighting with nerves until finally she made a decision. With a determined slant to her mouth, she strode around the desk and tried the drawers. Locked. She shuffled through the papers, flicked open the folders but came up empty-handed.

Holly paused, her mind buzzing. Or perhaps it was the subtle hint of cologne, all male and all Jake, invading her senses that sent a shock of remembrance through her brain.

Jake’s mouth, warm and needy on hers.

Her breath shook on the way in. She stilled, listening in the stillness to the guilty beating of her heart.

It was then that two things caught her attention: a tiny green light coming from the phone recharger on the edge of his desk. And the soft swoosh of the glass door opening in the outer office. He’d come back for his mobile phone.

Panic clogged her throat. Think, think! With a held breath she quickly stepped from behind the desk and undid the buttons on her blue silk shirt. It hung open, showing a glimpse of her black satin bra, when Jake opened his office door.

She didn’t have to fake a gasp as he swung the door wide. When he zeroed right in on her cleavage, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her smokescreen had worked.

“I spilled wine on my shirt,” she hurried to explain. Yet when his eyes dragged over her skin, leaving it practically sizzling in his wake, she self-consciously tugged at the shirtfront, realising the danger of her situation.

His hand stilled on the door handle. Light spilled around the frame, silhouetting his body in stark relief. To her chagrin the shadows also hid his expression. It didn’t hide the deep timbre in his soft statement, however.

“Really.”

She gestured to the windows covered with blinds. “Your office has coverage. I had a spare shirt in my locker….” She began buttoning it up, suddenly feeling stupid and exposed.

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