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in a clipped voice as he reached it, ‘and let you know tomorrow what I decide.’

      ‘F-fine,’ Mia said, not quite managing to hide the sudden tremor of anxiety in her voice.

      He heard it, and read it for exactly what it was. ‘Your father is going to be bloody furious with you for not clinching this here and now, isn’t he?’ he taunted.

      She merely shrugged one finely sculptured shoulder. ‘My father knew my requirements before you arrived here. Why else do you think he left us alone like this when he actually had you so nicely caught in the bag?’

      Take that, you nasty swine, she thought, her eyes gleaming with her own contempt.

      One set of long, brown, lean fingers was gripping the brass doorhandle in preparation to open the door, but that final taunt had them sliding away again, and on a quiver of real alarm, which made her spine warily straighten, Mia watched him turn and begin to walk slowly towards her. Her heart began to hammer, her tongue cleaving to the dry roof of her mouth as he came to a halt mere inches away.

      He was tall—taller than herself by several daunting inches. It meant she had to tilt her chin to maintain that most necessary eye-to-eye contact bitter adversaries always used as a weapon on each other.

      His eyes were black, hard and narrowed, the finger he used to stroke a feather-light caress down the arched column of her throat an electric provocation that had her teeth gritting behind the firm set of her lips as she fought to stop herself from flinching away from him.

      ‘You know...’ he murmured, super-light, super-soft, ‘you are in real danger of provoking me one step too far. I wonder why that is?’

      ‘I d-don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said tremulously, feeling that trailing finger make its electrifying journey back up her throat again.

      ‘No?’ he said quizzically.

      Then he showed her exactly what he meant as that taunting finger suddenly became a hand that cupped her jaw then tilted her head as his mouth came down to capture hers.

      It was not a passionate kiss or even a punishing one. He simply crushed her slightly parted lips against his own, tasted her, using his tongue to lick a lazy passage along the vulnerable curve of her mouth, then straightened, his eyes still like dark glass as they gazed into her own rather startled ones.

      ‘W-why did you do that?’ she gasped.

      ‘Why do you think?’ he replied mockingly. ‘I wanted to know if I would taste the acid that drips constantly from your lips. It wasn’t there,’ he softly confided. ‘In fact, you tasted so sweet I think I will have to taste you again...’

      And he did, that warning all she had before he was crushing her lips again, only this time his exploring tongue was sliding sinuously along the edge of her own, and as she released a protesting gasp his free hand snaked round her waist and pulled her against the long lean length of his body—a body she could feel already tightening with an arousal that actually shocked her.

      But what shocked her more was the way her own senses went absolutely haywire, slinging out all kinds of demands that had her simmering from head to toe. The static-packed build-up of sensual excitement set her quivering all over and it was an effort not to give in.

      What was the matter with her? she wondered deliriously. She didn’t even like this man!

      Yet she was on fire already, and she had to admit he was good. He seduced her mouth with an expertise that had her groaning, the splay of his hands across her body holding her trapped so he could move against her in a blatant demonstration of what the friction between their two bodies was doing to him.

      To her horror, her own inner thighs began to pulse in hungry answer, her mouth quivered, her breathing quickened and her hands came up to cling to his shoulders as, on another helpless groan, her defences finally collapsed, and she was kissing him back with a passion that held her totally captivated.

      It was raw and it was hot and it was so utterly basic that his deep-throated laugh of triumph against her clinging mouth had to be the worst humiliation she had ever experienced.

      ‘Now this is a surprise,’ he murmured silkily as he drew away. ‘I knew our sparring was arousing me, but I did not realise it was having the same effect upon you. That adds a little spice to my final decision, does it not?’

      Mia took a shaky step backwards, her trembling fingers falling from his shoulders and her cheeks blooming with shock and a dreadful consternation.

      ‘Lie back and mentally switch off?’ He mocked her earlier remark. ‘I think you will be doing a whole lot more than that, Mia Frazier.’

      ‘I never said I was frigid,’ she shot back stiffly.

      ‘But your father must think you are or why else does he believe he has to pay to get a man to bed you?’

      ‘Not just any man, but the man of his own choice!’ Her chin was up again and, despite the quivers still shaking her body, her eyes still managed to spit out defiance. ‘Please remember that while you make your decision—you are not my personal choice. I am simply willing to do anything for that five millions pounds.’

      Which was about as good as a slap in the face for him. He stepped right away from her, his expression so utterly disgusted that she almost—almost—wished the words unsaid.

      ‘I will call you with my decision tomorrow,’ he said abruptly as he moved back to the door.

      ‘It’s my father you will be dealing with, not me.’

      ‘You,’ he repeated. ‘I will deal personally with you. Your father will be dealt with through my lawyers.’

      CHAPTER TWO

      MIA was staring out of the study window again when her father entered the room. She had just watched Alexander Doumas take off down the driveway with enough angry force to forge a vacuum through the storm still raging outside. There were tears in her eyes, though she didn’t know why—unless those tears had something to do with the awful person she had been forced to play here today who bore no resemblance to the real Mia Frazier.

      ‘Well, how did it go?’

      ‘He has until tomorrow to agree to my terms or the deal is off,’ she replied, without bothering to turn.

      In the small silence that followed she sensed her father’s frown of irritation. ‘Don’t spoil this for me, Mia,’ he warned her very grimly, ‘or you will be spoiling it for yourself.’

      ‘I was taught by an expert.’ Mia’s smile was bleak. ‘He will come around to my way of thinking simply because he has no choice.’

      ‘Neither do you.’

      ‘He doesn’t know that, though.’

      ‘Ah.’ Jack Frazier lowered himself into the chair behind his desk with a sigh of satisfaction. ‘You didn’t tell him.’

      ‘You warned me not to.’

      ‘So, what does he think I am holding up as your incentive to agree to all of this?’

      ‘I get five million pounds from you on the day I produce your grandson,’ she informed him.

      ‘Five million?’ he grimaced. ‘A nice round figure.’

      ‘I thought so, too,’ Mia agreed. ‘It makes me a really expensive whore, don’t you think?’

      ‘You’ve always been a whore, darling,’ Jack Frazier murmured insultingly. ‘Expensive or cheap, a whore is still a whore. Tell Mrs Leyton I’m ready for some coffee now that the Greek has gone.’

      Just like that. His low opinion of her stated, he was now calmly changing the subject.

      Moving over to the desk, Mia lifted the internal phone which would connect her to the kitchen and held tightly locked inside herself the few choice replies

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