LITMIR.BIZ

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truth is,’ Ben said, the words sounding and feeling awkward, ‘I’m doing it for the children. Well, myself and the children. I—I used to love playing sport. It gave me a great sense of confidence and—and control when I needed it most, and I want to share that with others, with children who might never have an opportunity to kick a football or run around the pitch.’ He gave a small laugh, feeling oddly vulnerable at having shared so much. He knew to her it must sound like a small thing, but it felt like his very soul.

      ‘I understand,’ Natalia assured him with one of her lightning smiles. ‘The next time you ask me out for a drink, I’ll say no.’

      He let out a little laugh. Natalia never let up, never admitted defeat. He liked that, he realised. Once again he wondered about the woman underneath the party-princess, publicity-seeking facade. Was she there? Was she real? And did he want her to be? ‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘Fair enough. Now we really ought to do some proper work. I’m sure Francesca has some more photocopying or filing for you to do.’

      ‘Right,’ Natalia said. Her tone had turned brittle again, all traces of that odd moment of intimacy vanished. ‘I’m on the job,’ she said, giving him a mock salute, and left the room with Ben still staring after her, wondering if he’d ever understand her … and why he wanted to.

      Frowning, he glanced at the papers again, and saw a few inches of print he hadn’t noticed before. Jackson’s Prodigal Daughter Parties with the Earl?

      His frown deepened as he pulled the papers towards him and scanned the few lines. Apparently his stepsister Angel Tilson had left the engagement party last weekend with the Earl of Pemberton. Ben didn’t know him, but from the blurry photograph he looked dark, menacing, and rich. What could Angel possibly be up to this time?

      Still frowning, he reached for his mobile and punched in his sister’s number. Although he wasn’t related by blood to Angel, his father’s second wife’s daughter from a previous relationship, he still felt responsible for her. Ben knew Angel had never really felt part of the boisterous Jackson clan. Tough and street-wise, she’d always been determined to make it on her own.

      She answered the phone after several rings. ‘Big brother,’ she greeted him in a drawl, ‘what new worry has you ringing me?’

      Ben smiled in spite of his concern. Angel knew him well. So did Natalia. Pushing that uncomfortable thought aside, he glanced at the paper in front of him. ‘What are you doing with the Earl of Pemberton, Angel?’

      ‘Having a blast,’ she told him, ‘of course. Had your daily dose of the tabloids, Ben? Why don’t you just stop reading those rags?’

      ‘Because I like to know what’s going on in my own family.’

      ‘Don’t worry about me.’

      ‘You know I do.’

      She sighed, and the sad sound pulled at Ben’s heart. He knew many were quick to assume Angel was just like her mother, social-climbing or even money-grubbing. Few tried to see beneath her streetwise facade, but Ben thought he did. He tried to know the woman underneath all the wisecracks, because he sensed she was both courageous and vulnerable.

       Just like Natalia.

      Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

      ‘Be careful, Angel.’

      ‘I always am.’

      ‘I mean it. I don’t even know this guy—’

      ‘He’s rich and titled, Ben. What more could I want?’

      ‘Don’t sell yourself short.’

      She said nothing, and yet that silence seemed so lonely. So sorrowful. Ben sighed. ‘You will ring me if you need anything? Ever?’

      ‘Of course.’ But he could tell she didn’t mean it.

      After saying goodbye, he disconnected the call and stared into space, thinking once again of another sharp, funny woman who hid her true self from him.

      Back in the front office Natalia drew in a big breath and let it out slowly. Right. Photocopying. Filing. She could do this. She smiled at Francesca.

      ‘You have something for me to do?’

      ‘It’s rather boring—’

      ‘I think the point of me being here is to do boring,’ Natalia said drily, and listened as Francesca directed her to a pile of about a zillion envelopes that all needed stuffing with some sort of support letter. Perfect. It would take several hours, and required no more skill than putting one piece of paper inside another. She could do this. She nearly sagged with relief.

      Yet Natalia soon found that stuffing envelopes left her mind all too free to wander. And to wonder. Did Ben now believe she hadn’t planned to trip into his arms on purpose? As pleasant as it had been to feel his hard body against her own, it had still been completely unintentional. And then in that dark alley … Just remembering that exquisitely taut moment caused a shudder of longing to ripple through her. He’d been so close to kissing her. A single breath away. He’d been going to kiss her, and then he’d forced himself to stop.

      That was why he was so angry today, Natalia decided as she sealed yet another envelope. He’d desired her last night, and he knew she knew it, and it annoyed him. She could just imagine how aggravated Ben Jackson would be at wanting someone he thought shallow, spoilt and completely inappropriate.

      She wondered just what kind of women decorated his arm … and warmed his bed. Brisk and business-minded, like himself? Surely not. She could certainly see Ben entertaining a model or starlet, and then calmly discarding them when he’d finished with their services. Sex—or even love—was probably just another item to tick on his to-do list.

      She pressed her lips together and tossed another sealed envelope onto her growing stack. She would not be one of his ticked boxes. She would not be used by Ben Jackson at all. She might have a well-earned wild reputation, but she stayed in charge. In control. And if Ben thought he was determined to resist her … he had no idea how determined she could be. She wouldn’t get close to anyone, and certainly not Ben Jackson.

      The rest of the week passed without incident. The press was thankfully occupied with the exploits of other members of the Santina family, and tailing Natalia being driven to work every day was not noteworthy enough to make a headline. Ben was out of the office for two days, checking out the island’s stadium where the camp would be launched on Monday. Natalia hadn’t given too much thought to her duties after this week, but as she helped Francesca sort stacks of youth-size T-shirts she wondered just what Ben was going to have her do on a football pitch. She could barely kick a ball; she’d never been much of one for sport. School, as a whole, had simply been something to endure.

      Late Friday afternoon Ben strolled into the office, looking remarkably refreshed and energised. Natalia, in comparison, felt about as refreshed as a wet towel. Working just one week had very nearly done her in.

      ‘So, Princess,’ he said. ‘Be ready to work hard on Monday.’

      Natalia glanced pointedly at the stack of T-shirts she’d been going through with Francesca. ‘Oh, excuse me, this isn’t working hard?’

      His faint smile turned into a full-fledged grin. ‘Not even close. On Monday you’ll be working up a sweat.’

      ‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you that women glow?’

      ‘Then on Monday you’ll be fluorescent.’

      ‘What a thought.’ She shook her head and refolded a T-shirt. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ she said, without rancor. Something about Ben’s blatant enthusiasm was almost catching.

      ‘I’m looking forward to starting the camp,’ Ben admitted. ‘Getting out on the pitch.’

      ‘You said you played yourself?’

      ‘A

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