Chapter 2

Romeo never told Juliet he needed 'space.'

Antony hadn't said, 'It's not you, it's me,' to Cleopatra.

She stared at her reflection in the gleaming steel doors.All men were unreliable and selfish or, more likely, she was just an extremely poor judge of character. Either way, she'd had enough. For the foreseeable future she was going to enjoy being single.

Reaching into the large pocket at the front of her apron, she pulled out a laminated card and stared down at her brother's face. Thank goodness for David. He was always there for her helping her rehearse for auditions, even finding her this waitressing job.

Swiping the card, she felt her breath twitch in her throat as the light turned green and the doors slid open smoothly.She owed David big time.And now she had a chance to pay him back.Her fingers trembled. But could she do it. Could she actually go through with it?She hesitated. But only for a moment.

David was waiting downstairs for her in the lobby and the thought of his face, his relief as she walked towards him, propelled her forward.Inside the lift, panicky thoughts fluttered inside her head, darting back and forth like startled birds, but then the doors were opening and, heart pounding, she stepped into a dimly lit corridor.

David had told her which office belonged to Christopher and, her heels clicking lightly on the polished wood floor, she walked across the reception area and came to a standstill in front of a plain wooden door. For a moment she stared at it in silence. There was no nameplate ,nothing to differentiate it from any of the other doors and for a moment she wondered why. It seemed a strangely modest touch from a man worth billions who made no secret of the fact that he considered himself not just a businessman but an empire builder.

But then, did a man like Christopher Wood really need any introduction? Particularly in the gleaming glass tower that bore his name.

It felt like she was about to enter the lion's den. But, lifting her chin, she braced her shoulders. The lion wasn't at home. And by the time he returned, she would be long gone.

Breathing in sharply, she swiped the card and pushed open the door.Everything was silent and dark. But through the window all the familiar landmarks were lit up against the night sky, and she gazed at it in wonder. Christopher Wood must have the best view in New York. But every moment spent in his office increased her risk of being caught and, galvanised by that thought, she stepped forward unthinkingly.

'Ouch!'

Her knee collided sharply with something hard in the darkness, but her pain was quickly forgotten as she felt whatever it was she'd walked into start to move. Heart pounding, she reached out, groping blindly, trying to stop whatever it was from falling. But it was too late, and the next moment there was a thump that echoed round the empty office like cannon fire.

'Nice one, Rachel!' she muttered into the taut, strained silence that followed. 'Why don't you just set off some fireworks while you're at it?'

Gritting her teeth, she reached down and gingerly rubbed her knee and then suddenly froze as from the other side of the door she heard the clear and unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching.

They slowed and stopped, and her heart began to beat with such force that she thought it would burst through her ribcage, and then she scrunched up her eyes as the door swung open and light flooded the room.

For the longest moment she waited hoping, praying like a child that if she couldn't see whoever it was, they wouldn't be able to see her. But her hope was swiftly extinguished as a voice cool, curt and very, very male interrupted the tense silence.

'I've had a long and disappointing day, so I hope, for your sake, that you have a good explanation for this intrusion '

Opening her eyes, Rachel blinked. The words had sent a ripple of dread down her spine, but that was nothing compared to the dismay she felt as she gazed up at the face of the man standing in front of the open door.

Christopher Wood was supposed to be in Washington.

On business.

But, unless she was hallucinating, neither of those facts were true.The shock should have felled her and it would have done so, had she not been so distracted by the reality of his beauty.

On a screen, or in a magazine, Christopher Wood was movie star handsome. In the flesh, however, his good looks were multiplied by ten, compounded by an intense mix of masculinity and power that made heat break out over her skin.

Not that he was her type, she thought hurriedly. He was too handsome, too poised, too calculating. It must just be the shock that was making her want to look at him. And keep on looking.

Golden-skinned, with a sharp clean-lined jaw and close-cropped jey black hair, he looked more like a Roman gladiator than a billionaire property tycoon. Only the very dark and obviously very expensive single-breasted suit gave any hint that he was worth more than the GDP of some small countries.

He looked at her directly then, and she felt his gaze like cool water hitting the back of her throat. His eyes were extraordinary clear, glittering green, like shards of broken glass. But it was the beautiful full-lipped curve of his mouth that tugged the most at her senses. It was a mouth she could imagine softening into the sexiest smile.

Her heart jerked.

Only it wasn't smiling now. Instead it was set in a straight, forbidding line that perfectly matched the rigid hostility of his body blocking the doorway. Nervously she glanced around the office, looking for another means of escape. But despite it being the size of a small barn, there were no other exits. Just a lot of cool designer-looking furniture.

She was trapped.

Her pulse shivered. This wasn't supposed to be happening. She hadn't come here for confrontation or explanation. But now there was no choice but to improvise.

'I--I can explain,' she stammered.

'Then I suggest you begin.'

He stood like an actor on stage, his spotlit face impassive, but there was a dangerous undertone in his voice that made her heartbeat accelerate unevenly.

'Just keep it short and simple. Like I said, I've had a long day... Rachel'

He spoke her name softly, almost like an endearment, so that it was a moment before her brain registered the fact that he knew who she was. As she glanced up, eyes widening in shock, he shook his head dismissively, his gaze dropping to the laminated badge pinned to her blouse.

'So it is your name. I thought you'd stolen that from some poor hapless waitress downstairs.'

There was no mistaking the flicker of scorn in his eyes, and her hand rose protectively to cover the badge even as his accusation stung her out of her fear and shock.

'I didn't. My name really is Rachel and, for your information, I am one of those poor hapless waitresses. That's why I'm here.'

Her eyes locked with his. Pushing her hands into the pocket of her apron, her fingers brushed against David's security card, and she felt a sudden fierce urgency to protect her brother.

'I was working at the party downstairs and I was going to get some more napkins from the kitchens,' she lied. 'But I pressed the wrong button in the lift.'

For a moment Christopher stared at her coldly, then without turning he pushed the door shut.In less than three seconds he had crossed the room, and as he stopped in front of her, her body tensed with panic.

'I told you to keep it short and simple. Clearly what I should have said was tell the truth.' His eyes hardened. 'Please don't insult me by trying to pretend you "pressed the wrong button..."'

Rachel felt the walls of the huge office shrink inwards. In his dark suit, his broad shoulders blocking the light, Christopher Wood dominated the space around them. But she couldn't allow him to dominate her. If she did, then the truth would come out and David's life would be ruined.

She tried to let out her breath without his noticing.

'You're not the only one who's had a long day,' she retorted. 'I've been on my feet for hours and I'm tired too. Which is why I made a mistake.'

He shook his head.

'I don't class breaking and entering as a "mistake." And I'll think you'll find most juries agree with me.' His face was hard, anger harshening the fine features. 'So stop prevaricating and tell me why you're sneaking about in my office at quarter to one in the morning.'

'I didn't know it was your office.' She forced herself to meet his face. 'How could I? I don't even know who you are.'

His expression shifted into one of pure disbelief.

'You're working downstairs and you don't know who I am?'

Rachel glowered at him. His derisive tone, coupled with his arrogant and irritatingly correct assumption that she would know who he was, made her see red.