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Last night was fun. At least, it started off as fun. But the woman I brought here. When did that happen? I rack my brain, trying to pinpoint the moment I went from observing her to obsessing over her. From looking dispassionately at her in those suits she wears one day, and the next imagining how long it would take me to strip her out of one.

No, I think it was a look as she got into my helicopter in Spain. A laugh over dinner. Hearing her hum as she stared out of a window, her mind obviously running at a million miles an hour. Then there was that blackout we were once caught in at the City office. The fire alarm shut the place down, closing us inside an elevator for close on an hour, with just the dim flicker of emergency lights that made her legs look so long and smooth.

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By the time they cranked the doors I was about ready to pin her to the carpeted floor and screw her senseless. But I do want to fuck her. And I think she wants it, too. She might as well be naked. The dress is skin-tight, bright red and low-cut. Tiny straps slip over her shoulders.

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The dress is short, too. Her blond hair is pulled into a ballerina bun, her face is serious and her body is like pale silk that I want to wrap around me. Is he her date? A frown pulls at my brow.

I stare harder. Did she bring a date? Seeing her with another guy does something dangerous to my equilibrium. A possessive impulse threads through me, knotting at my chest.

Mills & Boon Modern Tempted

I pull a couple of champagne flutes from a passing waiter and cut through the room. Gemma is in my sights. Her lips purse as I approach; her eyes flick to me in that way she has. I hand her a glass of champagne and she takes it, her fingers briefly wrapping over mine. Immediately my mind puts them elsewhere on my body. I remember his stupid name, but not the man himself Nothing memorable about blond, pretty-boy looks and that air of Ivy League he seems to wear like a coat. Out of nowhere I have an image of her saying it to me, bent at the knees, her eyes moving up my body to meet mine as her lips clamp down on my length.

Okay, maybe in some circumstances I could make an exception. Is he trying to piss me off? First of all by removing the very nice image I was enjoying by talking about software. The problem is going to be short-term. You handle some of our most sensitive work—a data breach would be unacceptable.

Across the room a platinum blonde with a sensational rack and legs that go on forever is trying to catch my eye.

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I freeze. A vision of Lucy is in front of me, a scowl of disapproval on her face. I messed around a fair bit before we met, but nothing like this.

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My eyes wander of their own accord back to Gemma. She nods and smiles, then presses a hand to his forearm. Her lips part.

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I laugh, appreciating her honesty. My breath flutters her hair and I see a fine trail of goose bumps run across her skin. Her laugh is husky. A What the heck?

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I extend it to her on autopilot, watching as her lips shape over the glass and she tilts it back. The liquid is honey-gold. She passes the glass to me and I take a sip. I nod, reaching down and putting a hand in the small of her back. Gemma and Lucy are both in my head now—a fascinating occurrence. A new occurrence. Are they ganging up on me? Would they even like each other? Lucy was so soft and sweet. She looked at me like I was her saviour and I suppose I was. I ripped her out of her old life, away from a boyfriend who used her as a punching bag, and I made all her dreams come true.

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But fate is a bastard of a thing, and it only had bad news in store for Lucy. For a while she managed to jump tracks and sit on a different train, and then—bam. It took her. Gemma is nothing like her. She is smart—smarter than me by a mile—and focussed in a way that is completely familiar to me. She is also sexy. It makes me want her more. Want to show her for the liar she is. There is nothing beyond a polite acknowledgement of her existence. That iciness is there. I want to push Gemma backwards against the wall and kiss the hell out of her.

Right here. Gemma shifts her attention to her phone. She runs that iPhone as though she designed the thing.