Into Temptation Read online

  Shaken, she pushed him away. ‘Take your hands off me! What you did was wrong. If I’d known who you were, what was about to happen today, I would never have slept with you. You lied; you told me you were at the conference.’

  ‘As I recall, I merely told you I’d arrived that afternoon. You simply assumed the rest.’

  ‘You’re just playing with words,’ she batted back acidly. ‘You’re despicable. Just like your father!’

  ‘My father…?’ His brows knit in confusion and his face darkened. ‘Whatever has my father got to do with any of this?’

  ‘Your father was a liar too!’ she supplied, her face pale with anger. ‘My family has crossed paths with yours before. Oh yes! You think you know pretty much everything don’t you? But I bet you didn’t know that my father used to own Le Fourchet Hotel. He sold it to your father seven years ago, with the proviso that he be kept on as manager. Then just a year after the deal went through your father’s lawyers dreamt up some clause or other and had him thrown out. He never recovered from the shock of it. He died from a heart attack – and your father had a hand in it. Your company has no scruples whatever. That’s why I’ll never work for you!’

  He scrutinised her without comment, seeming to digest the information, blue-black eyes minutely narrowing. Then, ‘So your father owned Le Fourchet,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know that – you’re right. I’m sorry you lost your father Amber. I know how hard that is.’ His mouth tightened, as if something inside him was closing off. ‘But there must have been some misunderstanding. My father was an honourable man. If he gave an undertaking, it would have been honoured. There must have been some other reason for your father’s departure.’

  ‘Honour?’, she rounded on him icily. ‘What do you know about honour? My father was a good, decent man. A pity the same can’t be said for your father – or for you!’

  His face had become hard, utterly immobile, like marble. ‘I’m sorry you have such a low opinion of the Ward family, Amber. But as far as your contract of employment is concerned, it changes nothing.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at eight thirty. Don’t be late. We have a lot to get through.’ And with that, he turned and left.

  Amber slammed the door, then leant back against it, trying with all her might to suppress the overwhelming desire she felt to scream. How was it possible for one man to be so arrogant, so supremely self-confident? Oh what a mess she was in! And there was no way out that she could see. She didn’t doubt that he meant to carry out his promise to take legal action. A man like Jack Ward didn’t make idle threats. Not only was she going to have to work with him, but accompany him on his business trips to the other Channel Islands too. He had her exactly where he wanted her. It was, without doubt, going to be the longest and most arduous four weeks of her life.

  Jack started his car. So Amber’s father had owned Le Fourchet. She was perfectly correct: he’d had no idea at all. He didn’t recall the deal – just one small acquisition among the great many that Ward Hotels handled every year. And seven years ago he hadn’t even been in the country. He’d been in the middle of a year-long stint in New York, setting up the North American side of the business.

  But her claim was utterly outlandish. No doubt at all there wasn’t a grain of truth in it – that wasn’t the way his father operated. The girl’s father must have committed some sacking offence. Too proud to tell his family the truth, he’d concocted some cock and bull story about being stitched up by the Wards. No wonder she’d immediately handed in her notice, was so hostile towards him, if she truly believed that her father had been so shabbily treated by his.

  Still, he would make her work out the month. He wasn’t going to let her get away. The threat of legal action wasn’t an idle one.

  What do you think you’re playing at? a niggling voice interrogated as he sped off. Amber was a good accountant, that much was true – very good, if the business review she’d put together was anything to go by. But she wasn’t indispensable. He could easily let her go. He could ship over any one of ten or more executives from the London office, and they’d handle the accounts perfectly satisfactorily – if not with Amber’s apparent flair. No, she wasn’t irreplaceable.

  So then why was he going to all this trouble to keep her around?

  Because you want her, that’s why, came the answer, cool and clear.

  More than he should do. More than he’d wanted any other woman in a long time.

  He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the knowledge, disturbed by the sudden, gnawing need. He didn’t have time for this. He was too busy, couldn’t afford the distraction. Wanting a woman so much was a weakness. And lust always fizzled out in the end.

  He turned out onto the coast road, and pressed his foot to the accelerator. The car roared into life. But the burst of speed didn’t help. He felt distinctly unsettled. He wasn’t used to feeling need. His wishes were usually met long before they ever had the chance to develop into needs – particularly where the opposite sex was involved. He was used to simply snapping his fingers and having whatever woman he wanted; wasn’t at all accustomed to have them round on him, make all sorts of wild accusations and tell him they wanted nothing to do with him.

  Perhaps that was all it was, he ruminated: the thrill of the chase. Once he got what he wanted, the need would disappear, like an itch he had scratched.

  But he’d already made love to her, his brain sent back – all night. And the need hadn’t gone away. Quite the contrary: it had intensified.

  The image of Amber in bed tumbled into his mind, surprising him with its vividness. She was so gorgeous, lovelier without the overtly sexy clothes and elaborate make up than with them. Sure the red dress last night had been a major turn-on – the way it moulded to the soft curves of her body and revealed the outline of her incredible full breasts. But in her natural state she was most beautiful of all, lying asleep and unaware next to him, her pale, slightly translucent skin gleaming in the morning light, her amazing cinnamon-gold hair spread out over the pillow…

  With a supreme effort of will he banished the seductive image from his mind. No, it was nothing more than a passing impulse, an odd obsession that had arrived out of nowhere and temporarily taken hold of him. It would disappear again just as quickly as it had come. As did his feelings for every other woman who’d initially piqued his interest.

  He would bed her again – and forget her.

  Chapter Five

  Amber tapped at her keyboard, trying without success to keep her anger under control. So much for half-past eight sharp. So much for ‘a lot to get through’: it was already well gone midday and Jack Ward hadn’t even shown up yet, let alone called her in to discuss the complex set of accounts he’d had waiting for her on her desk when she got in.

  He was playing her for a fool! She’d had the temerity to challenge him, to tell him exactly what she thought of him and where he could stick his job, and now as his twisted punishment he was going to make her sit here and vegetate for a whole month.

  Oh how she hated him – arrogant, self-satisfied, power-loving egomaniac that he was. And the gall of the man. To come onto her like that at her own front door, and imagine for a fraction of a second that she’d be prepared to jump straight back between the sheets with him. What did he take her for?

  She chewed at her lip, hoping vehemently that he hadn’t registered the way she’d jumped at his touch of his finger on her cheek. She was shocked at her body’s treacherous response to him… Oh if only she’d known who he was from the very start. Why, out of all the countless men it could possibly have been, did the handsome stranger who just walked into her life and fulfilled all her wildest fantasies and more have to turn out to be Jack Ward, of Ward Hotels?

  And why had it had to be so good? Why did she only have to close her eyes for those unbelievably powerful memories of the previous night to come flooding back and threaten to overwhelm her?

  She forced her mind back to the piece of
work in front of her. She mustn’t let him get under her skin. She mustn’t. She couldn’t…

  The Town Church clock in the square below struck twelve-thirty. For goodness’ sake, was he ever going to put in an appearance? Oh what she wouldn’t give to be able to simply close her office door behind her, walk calmly out onto the pavement and never have to set eyes on him ever again!

  She found the number for the recruitment agency that dealt with the local hotel and catering trade. She’d spoken to Fran Mahy, one of their consultants, late yesterday. She redialled the number and asked to be put through.

  A couple of seconds later Fran’s voice came on the line. ‘Amber, I was just about to call you. I’m afraid I don’t have any news for you yet.’

  Amber sighed. ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘The trouble is,’ the consultant continued, ‘things are actually a bit slack at the moment.’

  ‘But tourist numbers are up again this year.’ Amber was confused. ‘How can things be slack?’

  ‘The industry’s fairly robust just now, that’s true – and there’s certainly a high rate of turnover in restaurant and bar staff. But not in hotel management, and certainly not at your level of seniority.’ She paused. Then: ‘I’ve got to be honest with you Amber. You’re still very young to be at the sort of rank you are. I don’t think we’re going to be able to find you anything at the same level. You’re going to have to take at least one step back – possibly more.’

  Amber’s heart sunk. All the progress she’d made over the last couple of years, wiped out, just like that, because of him.

  ‘Amber? Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, I’m here. And so… is there anything… at a more junior sort of level available at the moment?’

  ‘One or two things. I have to put in a couple more calls, but I’m hopeful I’ll be able to set up some interviews. But Amber, are you sure there’s really no prospect of you staying on at Ward Hotels? There must be scores of opportunities for you as part of such a big company. I read in the newspaper this morning that there aren’t going to be any job losses.’

  ‘No,’ said Amber wearily. ‘There’s not the remotest prospect of me staying with Ward Hotels.’ She wound up the conversation and rang off.

  So the news was out. By lunchtime both her mother and Jessica would know that Ward Hotels had struck again. She hadn’t had the heart to break the news to them the previous night – and her mother had been so tired from her shift at the hospital. She ought to have just bitten the bullet and told them, she thought now, guiltily. Not let them find out like this...

  The telephone rang,

  ‘Amber,’ came Jack Ward’s unmistakable voice, sending butterflies whirling through her stomach. ‘Meet me downstairs in front of the building. At once.’ Before she could say anything, he hung up.

  So he had finally deigned to arrive, had he? And now presumed to order her around, smoothly ignoring the fact that he’d kept her on tenterhooks all morning. Well, he could be the one to do the waiting now.

  She stayed exactly where she was, at her desk, for nearly ten minutes, then slung her handbag over her shoulder and checked her hair. She’d left it down that morning. It looked nicer that way, she’d decided, and was actually a lot cooler in this hot weather.

  She went down and pushed open the heavy glass door that led out onto the street. He was leaning against the wall, his long body clad in an expensive-looking lightweight grey suit and a simple white shirt, eyes hidden behind a pair of dark glasses. Oh God, he was a good-looking son of a bitch! The butterflies reeled and swirled even faster. She could see that his features were taut with disapproval.

  ‘I said “at once”,’ he growled, unfurling in one fluid movement, and glowering down at her, ‘not ten minutes later.’

  ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise you’re suddenly such a stickler for time,’ she countered, making a play of looking at her watch, ‘considering that in your world half-past eight means a quarter to one.’

  ‘What?’ he snapped.

  ‘You told me to be in for eight-thirty, sharp,’ she threw back, not caring if he saw how angry she was. ‘You said we had a lot to go through. I’ve been waiting all morning. It would have been good manners to at least phone and let me know you were going to be late, don’t you think?’

  ‘I’m a very busy man, Amber,’ he said, frowning, his dark brows knitting above his sunglasses ‘How I choose to spend my working day is no concern of anyone’s but mine. I take criticism from none of my employees, least of all you.’

  ‘Well release me from my contract,’ she countered angrily, ‘and you needn’t take it a minute longer.’

  His features moulded into a wry smile. ‘I’m afraid, Amber,’ he said, enunciating the words slowly and deliberately, ‘that I can’t do that.’ He turned and began to walk off. ‘We’re going to lunch,’ he threw back over his shoulder. ‘There are things we need discuss. And as you’re only going to be in my employ for another month I may as well get my money’s worth, don’t you think? And anyway, it’s far too beautiful a day to be cooped up in an office. This way.’

  He led her to his car – the sunroof already down – opened the door for her, then jumped in and started the engine.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked sullenly as the car moved off. She didn’t want lunch with Jack Ward. It was going to be bad enough just having to work alongside him, let alone have to sit across from him at a dining table.

  ‘You’ll see,’ he said, manoeuvering the powerful two-seater skilfully down St Peter Port’s winding medieval streets. All of a sudden a blast of warm wind came out of nowhere and slid a finger under her dress, flinging back the flimsy fabric of the lightweight summer skirt she’d put on that morning, so that her thighs were briefly exposed to him. Mortified, she anchored the dress securely back beneath her legs.

  ‘You needn’t be coy,’ he said, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. ‘After all, I already know your body intimately.’ She could sense the unbearable triumph in his voice. ‘Although I’d like to know it much more intimately still.’

  She felt herself flush crimson, a deep, prickly wave of shame engulfing her.

  ‘That,’ she hissed, ‘was a mistake. A mistake I don’t plan to repeat.’

  ‘Oh come now Amber,’ he said, undeterred. ‘It takes two to tango, after all. And as I recall, you were only too keen to dance.’ He flicked on the CD player and a silky blues number came on. ‘I like the skirt you’re wearing today,’ he continued. ‘It suits you. But it’s too dark. You should wear more bright colours. Red, in particular. And you should always leave your hair down, like it is now.’

  ‘I don’t think my appearance is any concern of yours!’ She stared angrily out at the glittering patch of blue sea below. Why was he trying to rattle her like this? Wasn’t it enough that he’d succeeded in forcing her to work out her month’s notice? Why did he have to keep alluding to the night they’d spent together? It must, she decided bitterly, simply give him some twisted kind of kick to flaunt his power over her like this. She needed to forget that night as quickly as possible, get through the next four weeks with as much of her pride intact as she could muster, then get out and get on with her life once more.

  He turned out onto the main road and suddenly, she caught a scent of him: a hard, heady masculine smell of freshly laundered cotton and expensive, old-fashioned soap. She remembered it clearly from when she was lying breathless in his arms, on the beach... Oh God…Desperately she tried to rein back in her careening thoughts. She mustn’t allow herself to think back to that night. She simply couldn’t…

  She cleared her throat. ‘I e-mailed all the monthly accounts to head office, like you asked,’ she said, pulling her mind back from the brink, determined to keep all further conversation firmly on matters of business. ‘And I sent you the details of all the supplier contracts we currently have in place. Several of the major ones are up for review at the end of next month.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, changing down a gear
as he slowed to turn inland. ‘I also need you to revisit the business review you drew up ahead of the sale. I want you to recalculate your earnings forecasts using higher growth estimates. I’ll e-mail you the details when we get back.’

  She turned, confused, staring at his impossibly perfect profile. ‘But… but you said my earnings forecasts were already too optimistic…’

  ‘For Frank De Garis, maybe. But not for Ward Hotels. We’re not satisfied with pedestrian rates of growth.’

  ‘There was nothing pedestrian about Frank!’ she tossed back, leaping to the defence of her former boss. ‘He built that business from nothing you know.’

  ‘All businesses are originally built from nothing. Any fool can set up a business. But creating a world-class company takes much more. It’s all about spotting opportunities and capitalising on them before someone else does. Your former boss could have made a lot more of his company. But he was old-fashioned, too cautious. Not quick enough off the mark.’

  ‘Ah.’ Amber nodded grimly. Realisation was dawning; De Garis Hotels was clearly worth a hell of a lot more to Jack Ward than he had paid for it. ‘So you got poor old Frank’s business for a knock-down price did you?’ she countered bitterly. ‘Well, congratulations. You must be very proud of yourself and your business acumen.’

  Jack laughed. ‘I made an offer, which he accepted. There wasn’t a gun pointed at anyone’s head, as I recall.’

  She turned away, so angry that she couldn’t bear to look at him, and the powerful sports car hummed its way along the island’s network of narrow country lanes, its two passengers silent.