Chapter 3

'I work for lots of people,' she said stubbornly. 'I don't remember all their names and faces.'

Watching his mouth tighten, she felt a stab of satisfaction at having punctured his pride.

There was a long, abrasive silence and then he shrugged. 'Which is no doubt why you're just a waitress.'

Her cheeks flooded with heat, his sneer stinging like a slap.

Just a waitress!

'Don't patronise me-' she began furiously.

'Then don't lie to me,' he said softly.

She glared past him, face flushed. 'Fine. So I know who you are! So what? It makes no difference to me...'

'Then you are either exceptionally foolish or dangerously foolhardy, because this is my building, and my office. And you shouldn't be in it.'

His voice scraped against her skin, sending flickers of fear in every direction.

Watching her face turn pale, Christopher felt his stomach twist.

Beneath her bravado she was scared, maybe she wasn't the hardened criminal he'd taken her to be.

But she was still guilty.

Guilty of knowing the power of her beauty and guilty of exploiting it to deceive and disarm. He stared at her critically, noting the slight tilt of her chin, the wash of colour on the flawless cheekbones. He'd known women like her before. One in particular, who had thought nothing of lying and manipulating those around her, causing havoc and devastation even as she played the victim.

Rachel had made the biggest mistake of her life if she thought her charms would work on him and, eyes narrowing, he let the silence lengthen until finally, with a mixture of defiance and almost exaggerated casualness, she said, 'I was curious. I just wanted to have a look around.'

'I see.' He loaded his words with sarcasm. 'And yet you didn't put on the lights? You must have truly extraordinary night vision.'

Rachel bit her lips. Already she hated that sneer, the way his eyebrows lifted, and the glitter in that mocking green gaze. Of course, she'd imagined what would happen if she got caught. But in her head she had pictured some bumbling security guard. She certainly hadn't expected to be grilled by Christopher Wood himself. The watch's owner and a man who was demanding an honesty she couldn't give.

'I didn't put the lights on because I thought somebody would see,' she said quickly.

He was standing too close; the heat and scent of his body was messing with her head so that speaking in sentences was suddenly a struggle.

'I know this floor is off limits, but I've worked here a couple of times and I wanted to see...'

She paused. What could she have possibly -believably-wanted to see in an unlit office?

Blood pounding in her ears, she stared desperately past him at the lit-up skyscrapers and then her gaze locked on to the Empire State Building.

'The city. At night,' she said, her breath juddering in relief. 'Everyone says the view from up here is amazing, so I thought I'd come and look.'

He stared at her for so long and so hard that she had to clench the muscles in her legs to stop them from giving way.

'How?'

She blinked. 'What?'

'Not what. How? How did you get up to this level? Catering staff only have clearance for the floor they're working on.'

Rachel swallowed. Keep it simple, she told herself. 'I don't know,' she lied again. 'I just pressed some buttons.'

Her head was starting to ache, and there was no way she could keep this up for much longer. It was time for a dignified retreat. David would understand, and together they could think of another less humiliating way to return Christopher Wood's watch to him.

She breathed out, fighting for calm. 'Look, Mr Wood, I'm really sorry I came up here, okay? It was a bad idea-a mistake-and I promise I will never do anything like it again. So if you could just forget I was ever here, I'd be really grateful.'

There was a taut silence as his gaze held hers.

'Rachel. Pretty name...' he said quietly.

She could sense he was battling to control his temper.

'Old-fashioned. Sweet. Decent.'

He smiled a chilling smile that sent a shiver down her backbone.

'It's a pity you don't live up to it.'

She felt her body still. 'I don't know what you mean,' she said carefully.

He shook his head. 'Then let me explain. I've had a long day...'

Pausing, he felt his shoulders stiffen. Not just long. It had been a day of frustration and failure. The deal was generous he'd offered way more than the market value of the building and yet once again Calvin Geller had rejected it out of hand. And he still didn't really understand why.

His lips pressed together. Or rather he did understand; he just didn't know what to do about it. Geller didn't approve of him, or his reputation for ruthlessness and womanising and so he wouldn't sell. Christopher breathed out slowly. But he wanted that building -had wanted it for seventeen years -and he wasn't about to give up now.

If only he could somehow persuade Geller that he'd changed...

He felt his pulse quicken. It made him feel tense, thwarted, just thinking about it. And now, as if he didn't have enough to deal with, this woman, Rachel, was trying to hustle him.

So call Security, he told himself irritably.

There was no reason for him to deal with this.

But, looking up at Rachel, he felt his body twitch.

Except there was.

A beautiful, brown-eyed reason, with a body that made that completely uninspiring uniform look both chic and sexy. His eyes rested on her face. Aside from a faint smudge of pink on her lips, she was make-up-free. But then beauty like hers needed no enhancement. Everything from the soft curves of her mouth to the huge espresso-coloured eyes was designed to seduce.

She had attempted to pull her long dark hair into some kind of low ponytail, but it was coming loose, and to his annoyance he found himself wanting to loosen it more. Could almost imagine what it would feel like between his fingers, the weight of it in his hands, and how it would fall forward when they kissed, the silken strands brushing his face.

Abruptly he lifted his head, his eyes glinting.

'As I was saying, I've had a long, difficult day-'

'Then why don't I just get out of your way?' Heart lurching like a ship at sea, Rachel edged backwards. 'I probably should get back to work anyhow.'

She glanced past him, every fibre in her body focused on reaching the door of freedom, and then her stomach lurched too as he shook his head slowly,

'I don't think so.'

His hand coiled around her wrist, his touch searing her skin. 'You're not going anywhere until you tell me the truth.'

'Let go of me.' She tugged her arm, trying not to give in to the cold, slippery panic curling around her heart like an eel. 'I have told you the truth!'

'Enough!'

His voice was sharp and final, like a guillotine falling, and she felt his grip tighten.

'You have done nothing but lie since you opened your mouth. Now, most men might fall for this eyelash-fluttering, little-girl-lost routine, but I'm not most men. So save your pouting and tell me what you're doing here.'

'I'm not pouting.' She jerked her arm free. Stuffing her hands back into her apron, she tightened her fingers involuntarily around the swipe card. 'And most men-most reasonable, decent men-wouldn't be interrogating me about an honest mistake.'