Ben had been sold on it the minute his personal assistant, Colin, had sent him photos of this house showcasing its high ceilings, massive windows and open-plan, sunny white rooms seven months ago. The spectacular view over the Indian ocean had been secondary. Colin had furnished the place with comfortable, contemporary furniture in warm earthy colours, but it had been up to Ben to finish things off with a few selected paintings and pieces he’d arranged to have shipped from London. He had a particular passion for graffiti artists and contemporary sculpture, and was particularly proud of the massive Banksy canvas hung on a two-storey blank white wall visible from the front door.
He watched as Amy peered up at the twenty-foot entry ceiling with its huge, cast-iron chandelier shaped into a sphere of interconnecting rings; his latest acquisition from an up-and-coming Brazilian artist. The lights twinkling through the gaps between the rings gave the impression that beams of light were being emitted from a slowly imploding star.
‘Come in, take off your shoes if you’d like.’ He led the way into a spacious open-plan stainless-steel kitchen, while pulling off his jacket and tie. Normally he avoided ties like the plague, but he’d had a feeling Amy would dress up for the occasion and hadn’t wanted her to feel out of place.
‘Would you like another glass of wine?’ He pulled a bottle of Burgundy out of a small rack built into the wall, uncorking it before she could answer.
‘A small one,’ she replied, still looking around with open curiosity. Her heels clicked over the tiles as she wandered towards the wall of windows in the living room. They afforded a spectacular view over the ink-dark ocean, illuminated every few seconds by jagged flashes of iridescent lighting. Dwarfed by the room and the view beyond, she looked a little like a tiny, sexy Alice in Wonderland.
‘Feel free to look around.’ He poured the wine into two bulbous glasses. ‘Just in case you’re wondering, there aren’t any torture implements in the cellar. Well, I don’t have a cellar, but you get my drift.’ He dimmed the lights, then wandered over and took a seat on the large tobacco-coloured modular sofa facing the windows and the little blonde in blue.
He set Amy’s glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of him and studied her profile. She was half facing the view, absently playing with the skirt of her dress while worrying her bottom lip between small white teeth. ‘You haven’t done this before, have you? Come back to someone’s place on the first date.’
‘Nope. I’m not that good at it, either.’ She heaved a sigh. It did interesting things to the bodice of her dress.
French knickers.
He hoped she was wearing French knickers and a garter belt. Just the thought alone had him casually crossing one leg over the other to hide the rather obvious effect she had on him.
‘If it makes you feel any better, neither have I. Brought a lady home the first date, that is,’ Ben replied, savouring a mouthful of wine.
‘Really?’ She turned to face him. Her eyes were huge.
‘Really.’
‘Why?’
Ben shrugged leisurely, running his eyes over those schoolgirl shoes, then up curvy little calves delineated by the seam of some seriously sexy stockings. ‘I don’t know really. I’ve never had the desire to. Until now. Although, I’m getting the feeling I’m doing it all wrong. You were supposed to be overwhelmed by my charming personality by now. Well . . .’ He scratched his chin. ‘Either that, or you were supposed to be taking advantage of me.’ He raised his brows.
Amy snorted genteelly, then wandered over to the couch and sat down next to him.
Suppressing laughter, Ben looked pointedly at the space between them. ‘You know, I do bite. Rather well, actually. I’ve been complimented on it in fact.’
Amy took the wine he offered her. ‘I’m sure you do.’
‘Hmm. But now, sadly–and this is going to be rather pathetic–I’m going to have to resort to trying to cop a feel while pretending to watch the view.’ Ben theatrically feigned a yawn then stretched his arm out along the back of the sofa so that his hand rested just behind Amy’s back. It felt naughty. Like he was a horny teenager trying to get to first base; quite novel in fact. He casually began to play with her hair, marvelling at how soft it was, and waited.
He was rewarded with a double-dimpled smile that unfortunately dimmed a little at the edges when she looked him in the eye.
‘Ben?’
‘Hmm.’
‘I don’t know how to do this,’ she said in a small voice, nibbling on her lower lip in a completely endearing way.
‘Define “this”. If you mean just sitting back and relaxing with a glass of wine while I clumsily try to seduce you, I’m sure you’ll manage.’ He handed her a glass of wine before taking another sip of his own.
‘Oh? Thanks.’ She downed half of it in one go and Ben stifled a wince at seeing that much expensive plonk guzzled.
‘You really are nervous, aren’t you?’ He moved his hand down to rub her back and shoulders, marvelling at how petite she was.
‘Yeah. My boyfriends before always came to my place . . . not that you’re my boyfriend yet . . . which is sorta weird. Oh bugger, this is awkward.’ She wore such a comically concerned frown that Ben chuckled.
‘Hey!’
‘Sorry, but you really are being very adorable.’ Ben grinned when her frown got more pronounced. ‘If it helps, I’d be happy to just sit and enjoy this rather nice bottle of wine with you while watching the view.’ It was a blatant lie.
‘Really?’ A flash of something, disappointment maybe, crossed her features. ‘You mean you don’t want to . . .’
‘Obviously.’ Ben looked pointedly down at the distinct pyramid in his trousers. ‘But only if you’d like to.’ He moved the hand on her back a little higher so that it rubbed the base of her neck. ‘I tell you what–and bear with me here–why don’t we try something and see if it works?’
‘Hmm?’ Amy let her head fall back into his touch.
‘Why don’t you kiss me and if it doesn’t work, we’ll call it a night?’ Ben said solemnly.
‘Oh?’ Amy’s gaze dropped to his mouth. ‘Okay.’
‘Whenever you’re ready. I’m at your complete mercy.’ He placed his wine glass on the coffee table, then theatrically closed his eyes and puckered his lips, gratified to hear her surprised giggle. ‘No?’ he asked with his eyes still closed, only to be surprised at the soft touch of Amy’s mouth against his and then, unexpectedly, the dart of her tongue running along his bottom lip, tasting like wine and something sweeter. ‘Hmm.’ He opened his eyes.
‘Was that okay?’ Amy whispered, her eyes huge.
‘Do it again and you’ll give me something to compare it to.’ Ben used his hand on her neck to urge her towards him. He nibbled leisurely at her bottom lip before darting his tongue out to meet hers. Encouraged by Amy’s sharply indrawn breath, he deepened the kiss. She moaned.
‘Bloody hell.’ He pulled back, breath heaving. ‘If you want to stop this, I’d suggest you speak up now.’
‘I think I’m getting the hang of it. I might need to practise a bit more though. Tell me if I’m doing it wrong.’ Her eyes tilted at the corners when she smiled and he lost himself in them for a few seconds.
‘By all means, practise away,’ he rasped, bringing his hand up to cup a delectably round buttock.
‘Okay.’ Amy grasped his shoulders and pulled him towards her, this time gently nipping and biting his lips before running a string of kisses along his jaw to his ear. ‘If that’s alright,’ she whispered.
‘Perfectly fine,’ he breathed, bunching her dress up in his fist until he revealed an expanse of creamy coloured thigh delineating the gap between stocking and—
‘Damn, I
was
right.’ He was amazed at his good fortune.
‘About what?’ Amy’s brow furrowed in confusion.
‘Would you mind terribly if we got you out of this dress? I’ve been fantasising about your underwear all evening and I have a feeling it’s going to more than live up to expectations.’
‘Oh. Um. Okay.’ Amy nodded thoughtfully, her eyes twinkling. ‘But if I’m going to take off my clothes, you have to too.’
‘With pleasure,’ Ben purred. ‘Ladies first.’
It was an incredibly awkward, sweet process that involved the location of hooks, eyelets and an invisible zip in between numerous stolen kisses, caresses and laughter, but eventually Amy’s dress ended up on the floor next to her discarded shoes.
Ben leaned back to fully take in the sexiest woman he’d had the good fortune to see in the flesh nearly naked. She was kneeling on the couch next to him, her amazing little apple-shaped breasts cupped by a lacy cream bra finished off with tiny blue bows and a pair of matching French knickers and stockings.
‘Your turn.’ Amy’s impish grin was framed by a tangle of white-gold curls.
‘I’m shy.’
She laughed, leaning forward and pressing soft lips against his. ‘You’re a horrible liar.’
‘I am.’ Ben coaxed her onto his lap, wonderfully soft thighs straddling him as she settled her hands on his shoulders.
‘Do you think this is alright?’
‘No, it’s awful.’ Ben stroked his hands down her back, then along the outside of her thighs, caressing the satin-smooth skin above her stockings.
‘Well in that case, we should stop.’
‘Perish the thought.’ Ben inched his hands higher, sliding his fingers under the lace at the edge of her French knickers. Amy’s small undulation against him was delightful. ‘You know . . .’
‘Hmm?’
‘I think you’d be so much more comfortable without all this hideously constrictive underwear.’ He flexed his fingers, cupping her backside, grinning with satisfaction when Amy arched against him again. ‘What do you say?’
‘I’m thinking about it.’ She leaned forward and he took advantage of the situation, darting his tongue out, licking her bottom lip, anticipation a heady drug coursing through his veins. He’d let her run the show for a little while more, just to see where things would go. This was too good to rush.
His plans were harshly interrupted by the sound of his phone’s infuriating ring tone blaring from where he’d put it on the coffee table.
‘Ignore it.’ He pulled her closer against him, enjoying the little gasping noise she made when he gently nipped at her bottom lip. He stroked his hands up her back, heading for the clasp of her bra.
His phone wasn’t letting up.
‘You can answer it.’ Amy pulled back, twisting around in his arms to look for the source of the noise.
Ben stifled a growl of frustration. ‘I’d really rather not.’
The phone stopped ringing only for his house phone to take up its cause. ‘Damn. I
am
going to have to get that.’ He reluctantly gripped Amy’s hips and set her further back on his thighs. ‘Sorry, sweetheart. The only person who has my home number is my PA and he would only call me at this time of night if it’s something urgent enough to risk me killing him with a blunt object.’
He felt an acute sense of loss when Amy climbed off his lap. The feeling turned into pure unadulterated frustration when he saw how stilted her movements were as she pulled her dress back on, covering up all that lovely bare skin.
Cursing under his breath, Ben stalked over to the phone hanging on the kitchen wall and picked it up. ‘
What!
’
‘Ben?’ Colin sounded shocked, which wasn’t surprising. In the ten years since Ben had hired Colin, he’d never once raised his voice at him; at other people yes, but never at Colin.
‘This had better be good, Colin,’ Ben snapped, watching Amy bend over to quickly put on her shoes.
‘It’s urgent. Jerry called.
Power to the Devil
is on hold. Cameron Bell is threatening to break his contract with Bright Star unless they get you in to rewrite his dialogue. He’s saying the script diverges too much from your novel and isn’t happy with the ending . . .’ Colin continued talking at near-superhuman pace while Ben saw his evening disintegrating before his very eyes.
‘Set up a conference call for a half-hour from now,’ he finally interjected over the top of Colin’s monologue.
‘Well, actually, Ben, I’ve got everyone here now, including Cameron.’
‘Bloody hell.’ Ben ran his hand over his head. Despite washing his hands of the film rights for the book and making a tidy sum in the process, Ben had foolishly gotten involved in convincing Cameron, an old and dear friend, to do the film with Bright Star Pictures, a small, independent British film company. He’d been regretting it ever since. The writer Bright Star had hired to adapt his novel was better suited to working with vacuous commercial fodder for the Hollywood gristmill than a blackly humorous political satire. Now it looked like Ben would have to step in and pick up the pieces or face seeing one of his most proud achievements mangled. Cameron wouldn’t be making a fuss if it wasn’t necessary.
‘Alright. Call me back in five.’ He hung up the phone and swiftly walked over to stand in front of Amy, who was finger-combing her hair. To his dismay she’d collected her handbag and had just hung up from a call of her own.
‘Something’s come up?’ Her expression was a strange mixture of disappointment and, if Ben wasn’t mistaken, relief.
‘Yes. I’m so terribly sorry. If you’d like to wait, it shouldn’t take long.’ He rested his hands on her shoulders willing her to stay, but she was already shaking her head, her expression far too serious for his liking.
‘No. It’s okay. I’ve got a taxi coming now and they said it was only a few minutes away. Actually, that’s probably it.’ They both heard the sound of a car horn. ‘I’ll see myself out.’ She brought his head down for a soft, almost platonic kiss on the lips.
‘No—’ Ben began just as his infernal phone started ringing all over again.
‘Bye, Ben.’ Amy gave him one last shy smile before hiking her handbag over her shoulder and escaping out the door, leaving him standing in the middle of his living room with the shattered expectations of a spectacular evening lying at his feet.
‘
Fuck
.’
Feeling more thunderous than the weather outside, he stalked back to the phone, ready to rain down a world of misery on the deserving few.
Chapter 5
Amy climbed out of the taxi on wobbly legs and made her way down her tree-shadowed driveway, sidling past her faded pink 1970s Mini Cooper, barely noticing when an overgrown rose bush caught on the hem of her dress. All her attention and energy was focused inwards as she tried to work out what the heck had just happened.