CHAPTER 2

          She desperately tried to claw back some semblance of control. He rocked back on his heels and a different light came into his eyes. An altogether more dangerous light. And Cassandra could see that she was effectively trapped. The space between the seats was far too narrow for her to even attempt to push past him, and the only alternative would be to jump into the next aisle, a far too unladylike and desperate way to escape. And, in the skirt she was wearing, utterly impossible.

          Cassandra felt unbelievably threatened. She called up her best brusque manner and hitched her laptop bag strap higher on her shoulder, hoping he’d take the hint.

“This conversation is getting us nowhere, mister. Now, really, I have to get back to my office, and I’m sure you have somewhere far more exciting to be.”

          After a long, intense moment, to her absolute relief, he stepped back and indicated with his arm that she should precede him out of the row of seats that led into the press area. Cassandra gritted her teeth and walked past, but, even though she tried to arch her whole body away as she moved past him, she was aware of his height which had to be at least six foot four, the sheer range of him and an enticingly musky smell. The smell of sex and lust…

          Oh God, what was wrong with her? Since when had she ever thought she could smell sex and lust? And since when had she even been aware of what it smelt like? She felt weak in the pit of her stomach, but thankfully she was now past him and hurrying back up the main steps to the elevator, which would bring her down to ground level and back to reality.

          Her silent prayers weren’t answered when she felt his presence beside her, yet he said nothing as the elevator doors opened. When he stepped in with her, Cassandra pushed the button, silently pleading for the journey down to be quick. It was excruciatingly intense, sharing the small confined space, and she practically bolted as soon as the elevator halted and the doors opened.

          As she walked towards the main gates at the back of the stand, Cassandra could see her car parked on the road outside. And then she heard his steps stop behind her. Of course, he’d kept up with her effortlessly… She had the unsettling feeling that she was on a tight leash.

          The man was like a predator indulging his prey, not moving in for the kill just yet. And knowing that, against all rational thought in her head, Cassandra stilled, too, and turned around. Her heart was still pounding from the close proximity in the elevator, and she just realized then that she must’ve held her breath the whole way down.

“Actually, I do have somewhere more exciting to be,” he said, looking at her with those intense eyes. “Maybe you’d care to join me?”

          The full effect of his French accent washed through her now. It was as if she’d blocked it out when she’d first heard him speak, having been too much to cope with along with everything else. He was absolutely devastating, and he was coming on to her.

          Cassandra couldn’t believe it. She knew perfectly well she was similar to million other girls, nothing special. What on earth could this man want with her? Anyone could see he was in another league. Alarm bells rang, loud and insistently.

          She shook her head and started backing away towards the gate and her car, but the physical pull to stay in this man’s orbit was something she had to actively fight against. Simultaneously a sleek, dark limousine pulled up beside them. Clearly his car, his chauffeur-driven car, which had of course been parked here in the VIP parking area. She was shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, Mr.…?”

“Monfort.”

“Mr. Monfort.’

          Even his name sounded sexy, luscious. Extremely important.

“I have to get back to work.”

          She repeated it then as if to drive a point home.

“This is work for me. Enjoy your weekend in Dublin. There are plenty of other women out there.”

          ‘Who won’t be stupid enough to walk away of such a catch,’ her inner voice mocked her. But as she finally turned and walked towards her car, she told herself she was glad. He hadn’t even tried to get her to change her mind. He was just a rich tourist over for the match. And she knew all about sports supporters. She used to be part of that crowd, used to be a professional supporter. Not anymore.

                                                           ************

          While she was driving away in her small car, Sébastien stayed there for a second. He couldn’t really believe that she’d refused him. A woman hadn’t walked away from him since… he couldn’t remember when.

          His mouth thinned. She was right: there were plenty of other women out there. She really wasn’t anything special. So why was it that all he could see were those sinful soft lips? And those huge, amber eyes, full of changing depths? And that alluring body in its uniform that made his hands itch to rip it off and see what it hid?

          Sébastien was bored. That was it. And he’d been without a lover for some weeks. He was going to a party tonight. If all he was looking for was a quick lay, then he’d get it. Feeling his balance start to settle again was a welcome relief because it hadn’t been normal since he’d laid eyes on her.

          He settled back and relaxed. And then promptly tensed again, all recent justifications out the window. He hadn’t got her name. And he didn’t even know if she was married. He couldn’t remember seeing a ring, but now it glared at him. That had to be it...

          Calmness rushed through him again. This time he firmly cast her out of his head as a weird, momentary diversion and looked forward to the fast-approaching evening and the promise of fulfillment that was now a dull, throbbing ache in his body.

                                                       ***********

 “Cass, you can’t leave yet.”

“But, James, I’ve got to get home, it’s my brother’s 40^th birthday.”

          Her boss ignored her and pulled her firmly by the hand, back into the crowd she’d just battled her way through to get out. Cassandra rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“You have to meet him; you’re interviewing him first thing tomorrow. He rang in person after the match, specifically asking for you… I guess he must have seen you reporting or something, but who cares? Do you have any idea what a coup this is? He’s an important sponsor of the Six Nations… a famously reclusive billionaire.”

          She was getting bumped and bashed by people along the way as she struggled to keep up with her hyper TV boss. She couldn’t hear half of what he was saying. Something about an interview? That was nothing unusual; she did interviews most days. Why was he making such a big deal about this one?

          Cassandra cast a quick, worried look at her watch on the wrist not held captive by James. The surprise party would be starting in half an hour, and it would take her that to get out to her parents’ house. If she missed the start of it, her life wouldn’t be worth living.

          Then James stopped abruptly and she bumped into him. He turned and gave her a worried look over his shoulder.

“Maybe he'll ask you to do it tonight! And you should... Maybe you'd caught him with his guard down and got a scoop or two about Mr. CEO," he said, then looked at her clothes. "Oh, but dressed like this... Really, Cass, you should change this Mother Teresa kind of wardrobe you got. Even this evening you’re so… casual. It’s a party, after all.”

          His mouth pursed in disapproval. Irritation rankled. All too frequently, people seemed to expect her to be what she had been before.

“James, I’m dressed for a family party, remember? Not for the French team’s celebrations.”

          Which she had to privately admit now were something else. Clearly, someone had a lot of money to spend. They were taking place in the lavish ballroom of the Four Seasons hotel just on the outskirts of Dublin city center. She wasn’t dressed in the glittering dresses that most of the women seemed to be wearing, but she was perfectly respectable. And she preferred it that way.

          She had too many uncomfortable memories of being paraded in fashions that had been too tight, too small, too everything. And not her. She knew she went out of her way in situations like this to draw the line between the woman she had been and the woman she was now.

          James looked over her head, tensed visibly, and then looked back, taking her shoulders as if she were a child.

“Listen, he’s just arrived. Now, he’s a very important person. Apart from his role in the Six Nations, he’s the CEO of one of the biggest banks in the world. I’ll introduce you and then you can go, alright? No doubt he’s got bigger fish to fry tonight than meeting you, anyway.”

          James grabbed her hand again, and before Cassandra could say stop, he was leading her over to where a man stood with his black-suited back to them, surrounded by obviously fawning people.

          Suddenly Cassandra’s legs turned to jelly. Even before they reached him, she felt her heart start to pound in recognition. It got about a million times worse when James hissed in her ear that name.

“His name Sébastien Olivier de Monfort.”  

          James left her hand and patted Mr. French CEO’s shoulder. And then he turned and faced her with a sly smile on his lips. Cassandra swallowed hard and tried not to faint.

“I believe I saw you covering the match earlier, no?” he said innocently with that deep sexy voice as if they’d never met.

          For the second time that day, Cassandra looked up into those eyes that she hadn’t been able to get out of her head. Her mouth turned dry; her hands sweaty. Her reaction was alarming… She’d sworn off all men and had no time for frivolous flirtations, and she couldn’t understand why this man was having such an extreme effect on her.

          Other men flirted with her and asked her out, and she dismissed them with barely a ripple of acknowledgment or reaction. But this was different. And she’d known it from the moment she had met him, which was why she’d all but run.

          The silence lengthened, and James nudged her discreetly but painfully. Automatically Cassandra held out a hand. She spoke like a robot.

“Yes. Yes, you did.”

          Sébastien then took her hand in his much larger one, but instead of shaking it, he bent his head, his eyes never leaving hers. Cassandra saw what he was going to do as if in slow motion, but still, the feel of his mouth on the back of her cool hand sent shockwaves through her entire body.

          Immediately she tried to pull her hand away, but he wouldn’t let her go. He straightened slowly. She felt his index finger uncurl to caress the point under the wrist where her pulse beat fast, and then he let her hand go.