Seducing the Secret Heiress (12 page)

She had less than half an hour to have Gabe at that hotel.

Gabe looked at his watch. She knew she was asking a lot to get him to leave in the middle of filming. Every muscle was rigid with anticipation.

‘Ah . . .' Gabe hesitated

‘Please.' Her pleading grated in her ears.

‘Sure.' He took her hand. ‘Let's go.'

Gabe obviously knew the route well. He navigated expertly through a maze of little back roads and lanes. They drove past field after field of golden-topped maize blowing in the breeze but the beauty of the English countryside did nothing to dislodge the tight knot in her stomach.

‘So, which place did you have in mind?' Gabe asked. ‘There are lots of lovely pubs on the river.'

‘Um . . . I found an amazing place online . . . What was it called? The Oakley Court something?'

Gabe's eyes flashed to her face. ‘Why do you want to go there?' The sharpness in his voice surprised her.

‘Ah . . . It looked pretty and they apparently make incredible French desserts. I just wanted a little inspiration after today's disaster.'

‘The Oakley and I have a lot of history,' he said finally.

What should she do now? Insist he revisit a place he clearly loathed?

‘That's a shame,' she said in the lightest voice she could muster. She waited, hoping Gabe would elaborate.

He didn't.

‘I haven't been to an old manor house before.' She injected disappointment into her voice. She must get Gabe to that hotel. She risked a glance at his profile. His mouth was set in a thin line.

‘We could go and maybe make some new history while I look over their desserts?'

She held her breath as she waited for him to reply.

He relaxed in his seat. ‘Why not? It wasn't the place that was the problem.'

She wondered what he meant but now she was getting him there, she didn't want to rock the boat.

‘Sorry about this morning,' she said, deliberately changing the topic of conversation.

‘How are you feeling now?'

‘Much better. I think I've just been in the kitchen too long.'

A large sign advertising the entrance to the hotel loomed ahead. Gabe pulled into the long drive.

‘Well, we'll organise a table on the terrace and you can catch the last of the English sunshine for the year.'

The photos on the web hadn't captured the magnificence of The Oakley Court Hotel. The Victorian gothic-style mansion sat proudly in manicured gardens which sloped gently down to the Thames. But the building also possessed a sinister air. Her already jangled nerves began to get the better of her. She hopped out of the car, but hesitated. What was Sophie going to do?

‘Inside's better,' Gabe said, taking her hand, obviously mistaking her immobility for awe.

But the shadowy interior did nothing to ease the tension. ‘It's a little eerie,' she whispered, as they walked through to the restaurant.

Gabe grinned. Even with all the trepidation, his smile still sent a warmth through her body.

‘
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
was filmed here.'

‘I've never seen it.'

Gabe stopped short. ‘You've never seen
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
?' He made it sound as if it were a crime against humanity. ‘It's a cult classic.'

There were plenty of movies she'd never seen.

Too vulgar. Too common.
Her mother's assessments echoed in her head. Instead of growing up going to movies, she'd had to endure endless hours of opera and theatre. The theatre was wonderful, but opera . . . She didn't believe her mother enjoyed opera either, but she certainly relished appearing regularly in the VIP box.

‘Perhaps we can rent it on video,' she suggested.

‘Not necessary. I have it at home. The collector's edition.'

They approached the maître d's station. A smartly dressed man wrote in a reservations book and didn't look up.

‘Table for two please? On the terrace if possible,' Gabe said to the top of the man's head.

‘I'm sorry, sir. We're full,' the maître d' said, finally looking up and giving them a smile that said ‘I'm too important and busy to deal with you'.

His eyes widened.

‘Charlie Brown.'

Charlie smiled and nodded.

‘You were excellent last week,' he said, stepping around from his podium. ‘Of course we have a table for you. Just a moment, please.'

The man disappeared into the restaurant.

The maître d' returned a few minutes later. ‘Come this way, please.' He walked slowly and Charlie could see three waiters busily resetting a table on the terrace.

She had just taken her seat when a bottle of champagne in an elegant ice bucket appeared next to the table.

‘Compliments of the house,' the waiter said, giving her a huge smile. He popped the cork and poured the bubbles.

Charlie eyed the golden liquid. ‘I have to work this afternoon,' she whispered.

‘Just have a few sips. Might help you relax,' Gabe said.

She looked around the room. People were staring. Some even took photos on their mobiles. She hid her face behind the enormous menu.

An elderly couple walked tentatively up to the table.

‘We are so sorry to interrupt, but we just wanted to say how much we love your show,' the gentleman said.

‘Your dishes are lovely,' added the lady on his arm. ‘You're quite an inspiration. I haven't cooked properly for years, but the other day, we baked your fabulous chocolate and macadamia nut biscuits. We sat out in the garden all afternoon eating them, didn't we, Harry?'

The man nodded and smiled at his wife.

‘I'm glad you like the show,' Charlie said.

‘You'll win for sure,' the man said, patting Charlie's shoulder. He turned to Gabe. ‘You're a very lucky young man.'

‘Thank you. I know,' he said. The smile he shot Charlie made her dizzy. Gabe reached across the table and squeezed her hand gently.

The grey-haired couple smiled and drifted away.

Gabe kept her hand in his. A sensual energy radiated between them. ‘When the show is finished—'

‘Darling, fancy meeting you here.' The affected voice shattered the moment. Charlie's heart lurched. She sucked in a sharp breath. Gabe pulled his hand away as his whole body stiffened. The blackmailer loomed over the table in her ridiculously high heels.

‘What are you doing here?' Gabe asked harshly.

‘Having lunch with you, darling,' she purred in her silky voice. ‘Give us a moment, will you, Charlotte?'

Charlie stood up.

‘The hell you are. Sit down, Charlie,' Gabe hissed.

But Charlie stood aside and let Sophie take her place.

‘Thank you, Charlotte.' Sophie pronounced her name slowly and with great emphasis.

Gabe leapt to his feet, signalling the waiter.

‘It's going to give me great pleasure to have you thrown out of here,' he said between his teeth.

‘Oh, I don't think that's going to happen,' Sophie said, scooping up Charlie's champagne glass and taking a casual sip. ‘After all our good times here, I asked Daddy to buy the place. It's mine, darling.'

She leaned back in her chair. Gabe stared at her, horror etched all over his face.

‘And Charlotte was just leaving,' Sophie drawled. ‘Weren't you, Charlotte?' Sophie said with a dismissive flick of her hand.

Charlie's heart thundered. ‘I should go,' she said.

‘Absolutely not.' Gabe's face twisted with fury.

‘Gabe, it's obvious there are things to work out with Sophie,' Charlie insisted.

Gabe snapped his eyes to hers, his anger melting to confusion. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘I'll see you at the studio.'

Not daring to look back, Charlie walked quickly from the restaurant and out onto the drive. A couple stepped from a black taxi idling in the drive. She leaped into the back.

‘Pinewood Studios, please.'

As the taxi pulled away. Charlie looked back, hoping Gabe had followed her. He hadn't. Fear gripped her heart and her mouth turned dry. What if Sophie told him everything?

Charlie leaned in close to the dressing-room mirror. Tears wreaked havoc with her make-up and she only had ten minutes before she had to be back on set.

The door crashed open. Gabe strode in, slamming the door behind him.

‘What in hell's name was that all about?'

Charlie's heart leaped into fifth gear as she jumped from her chair. She stepped back, trembling.

‘Are you and Sophie in this together?' He shook with rage. Anger flared in his eyes.

‘She told me . . .'A knot formed in her throat. ‘She said you were still in love with her. That there'd been a misunderstanding.'

Her statement wiped the fury from his face as he stared at her in utter disbelief.

‘In love? With her? Are you mad?' he said, throwing up his hands. ‘Sophie's spent the past year trying to sue me for the international syndication rights to
Billionaire Angels
. I've been in and out of court fighting to keep the rights to my own show.'

Emotions tumbled over each other but confusion topped the list. ‘But she said you were to be engaged,' Charlie said.

‘Engaged!' He spat out the word in disgust. ‘Damn it, Charlie, we had a brief affair.' He took a step towards her. ‘I ended it when I realised she was just using me.'

‘Oh.' Her mind raced. He hadn't mentioned her false identity. Why had Sophie stayed quiet?

‘But she won't accept it. After we broke up, she begged to have one final dinner at the Oakley. She'd invited everyone we knew and announced we were engaged.'

A gasp escaped Charlie's lips.

‘When that failed, she went after my business. She wants fame. That's
all
she wants.' His blue eyes darkened like an afternoon storm. ‘She certainly wasn't the woman I thought she was. She's a crazy wealthy bitch who craves the camera.'

He closed the gap between them.

‘How could you possibly think I had any feelings for that viper?' Disgust had replaced anger.

Charlie's breath caught in her throat when he pulled her roughly to him. Smouldering flames of desire erupted in his eyes.

‘Don't you know how I feel about you?' he rasped. Every rational thought vanished as he crushed her body against his own. Her heart slammed against her ribcage.

His mouth came down hard, claiming her lips. She closed her eyes as a kaleidoscope of colours blazed before them. She returned his kiss with passion she didn't know she possessed. Her nipples contracted as they pressed against his chest.

She wasn't the woman I thought she was.

The damning words grew louder and louder, no matter how hard she tried to push them away.

It took all her strength to pull free. She whirled away, unable to face his trusting eyes. Instead, their reflection chased her in the mirror.

‘Gabe—'But when his arms slid around her from behind, the words died in her throat.

‘Charlie, I've wanted you since that night you stood in my apartment in Italy,' he whispered into her hair. Heat rushed to her core.

Pull away. Pull away.

Instead she melted into his hard body as he kissed the back of her neck. A river of desire flooded her as she angled her head to give him access to her neck. He took the invitation and smothered her neck and shoulders in scorching kisses, his body thrusting up hard behind her.

She could barely breathe as his hands slipped under her top, brushing just under her breasts. Her nipples hardened, taut under the thin fabric of her T-shirt. A liquid heat pooled between her legs. She wanted his hands and lips everywhere.

He cupped her breasts, and a low moan escaped as her senses exploded into sensual riot.

‘You're so beautiful,' he breathed, his voice hoarse.

He lifted her top over her head. She did nothing to resist. Her black lacy bra only barely contained her breasts. He pulled the wisps of black fabric aside to expose each nipple. He teased each one with his fingertips until she was writhing under his touch.

She felt his hardness against the small of her back. He pushed himself against her.

The reflected image was so hot, so sexy, so . . .

Fire roared through her.

She wanted him. All of him.

She tried to turn to face him. Kiss him. The strong arms held her where she was.

‘Stay,' he whispered in her ear.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should protest but she could only watch the mirror as his hands slipped down to her thighs. He drew up her skirt. She ached to be touched just there, in that perfect spot.

His breath rasped in her ear as her knickers were revealed.

His hand slipped under the fabric. She held her breath as his fingers slipped between her slick folds. A groan of pleasure escaped her lips.

‘Charlie, are you okay in there?' Abigail's voice struck like a bucket of ice water.

Charlie twisted from Gabe's grasp, snatching up her T-shirt.

Gabe put as much distance between them as the small room allowed.

‘Fine, fine,' Charlie stammered as she pulled her clothes quickly into place, willing the door not to open.

‘We need you on set.'

‘Okay,' she called, trying to keep the quiver from her voice as an all-consuming craving still pulsed through her body. ‘I'll be there.'

Gabe's hooded eyes watched her every move. Finally he stepped to the door and opened it.

‘Get out there,' he said. ‘Get through this round. Then let's go home. I can't wait any longer.'

‘Action.' Charlie heard the hint of hoarseness still raw in Gabe's voice.

Thank goodness the theme of this week's show was individual favourites. If she hadn't made her chocolate brownies a hundred times before, she'd be lost.

She set a pot of water on the stove to heat and broke chocolate into a bowl. She glanced at the control box. Gabe's eyes followed each action.

She stirred the dark chocolate carefully as it melted over a double boiler, the rich cocoa aroma further fuelling her emotions. Cooking had never been so erotic. Like performing a private dance for her lover, the brownies foreplay for what was to come.

She quivered as a bolt of sensuality shot through her.

She dipped her finger into the chocolate and sucked it seductively, all the while staring up at the control room and into Gabe's eyes.

‘Do that again.' Jasper's voice startled her.

‘Sorry,' she said, heat flaring in her cheeks. She washed her hands quickly and returned to her stirring.

‘I'll ask you a question and you do that again with your finger.'

‘Really?'

The camera light flared red in answer.

‘Now, Charlie, can you salvage yourself from the bottom of the leader board?'

Charlie dipped her finger in the chocolate and licked it enticingly.

‘Jasper, imagine a howling gale, a roaring fireplace, a sheepskin rug, your hot new lover and these brownies,' she said, running her tongue over her lips to catch a stray drop of chocolate. ‘And I think you'll find you'll forget everything to do with any leader board.'

Gabe laughed softly as every camera in the studio zoomed in for a close-up of Charlie licking her lips. He thought Abigail would redirect the cameras to capture what else was taking place on the set any minute, but she didn't.

‘What in heaven's name has happened to Charlie?' Abigail said, staring at the bank of monitors.

Gabe didn't trust himself to speak.

‘This is gold,' she said and barked out instructions to keep the action on Jasper and Charlie. ‘If this doesn't peak our male audience numbers, nothing will.'

Gabe simply nodded as he watched the sexiest performance he'd ever seen on any cooking show. She seduced the whole room as she stirred nuts into melted chocolate, all the while making love to the camera with come-to-bed eyes.

Charlie raised a spoon for Jasper to taste, speaking slowly about the richness of chocolate and its powers as an aphrodisiac.

As Jasper clasped Charlie's hand to steady the spoon, Gabe felt a stab of jealousy. He didn't want any other man – even happily married, middle-aged Jasper – touching her.

He sat mesmerised as she poured the brownie mixture into the pan. An irresistible blush coloured her cheeks.

Gabe pulled his clipboard onto his lap.

‘Making brownies is a bit like foreplay,' he heard her say, as she focused her attention on Jasper. ‘It feels good while you're doing it, but you know the best is still to come.'

Gabe nearly laughed out loud as Jasper pulled at the bandana knotted at his throat. The seasoned chef, so experienced in the heat of the kitchen, clearly found Charlie a little too hot to handle.

As Charlie popped the brownies into the oven, Abigail directed the cameras to other points around the studio.

‘Damn,' she said, ‘it's going to be hard to cut any of that.'

‘Mmm.' Gabe didn't trust himself to speak.

‘This semi-final is going to be smoking hot,' Abigail said. ‘I can't wait to get this into edit. It's going to be a show-down between Tim and Charlie.'

Editing was the last thing on his mind as he imagined stripping off Charlie's apron and burying himself in her soft, luscious body.

He shut his eyes, trying to focus, but that was worse. Her semi-naked body flashed across his eyelids.

‘You all right, Gabe?' Abigail asked.

His eyes flicked open. ‘Camera four, find something more interesting than an empty bench.' His voice was harsher than he intended. He felt Abigail's eyes on him, but she said nothing.

The rest of the taping ran smoothly.

‘And there you have it,' Charlie concluded, facing the camera half an hour later. ‘Triple chocolate brownies with warm caramel sauce.'

She picked out a rose from the vase on her bench and used it as a dramatic garnish.

‘With a touch of love,' she added.

Jasper and the other judges scooped up the light chocolaty bars. Silent reigned for just a moment.

‘A perfect ten,' Jasper announced and the audience roared its approval. Gabe had to hold himself back from joining the standing ovation. The first ten of the competition.

The other two judges awarded a nine and a nine and a half. The brownies ranked as the top-scoring dish so far.

Any worries he'd had about Charlie failing to make the final vanished. With her performance and her dessert scores, the audience would vote to keep her.

Clearly overwhelmed, Charlie gave a shy bow. When she threw a glance his way, Gabe felt himself grow hard. He had to get her out of here and under him before he burst.

Directing the rest of the judging was torture. Tim gave an outstanding performance, but he couldn't concentrate. Finally he called cut and tore off his headset.

‘Abigail, are you okay to wrap up the rest of the afternoon? I've got to—' He pushed through the control room door and strode out onto the set.

‘Hey, I'd like to try some of that.' Gabe joined the crowd milling round Charlie's station.

‘Here, let me,' Charlie said, picking up a piece of brownie and reaching over to pop it into his mouth. She gazed at him with smouldering eyes.

‘Hey, Charlie, can I have some too?' A young cameraman sent one of the judges flying as he pushed his way to the front.

‘Sure,' Charlie said. She handed him a fork, turned and walked towards the exit.

Every man in the room stared after her until she disappeared through the studio door.

‘Bloody hell,' Jasper said. ‘Where did that come from? This morning I thought Charlie was out. Now every hot-blooded man in Britain will be watching this show, especially after our highlights hit YouTube. I reckon we'll crack ten million viewers this time.'

‘Get that into edit ASAP,' Gabe instructed. He walked quietly from the excitement.

When Gabe rounded the corridor, Charlie ached to run and kiss him until the end of time.

‘Let's get out of here,' he said.

‘My thoughts exactly,' she murmured.

Gabe grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the car park. As he opened the exit door he groaned. ‘Damn.'

‘What?' she said as she went past him through the door.

‘I've left the car keys in the control room.'

‘Oh.'

In one quick movement he followed her out then backed her up against the wall. His mouth covered hers. She reeled under the force of his passion, then dragged his shirt from his trousers.

He seized her hand and pulled away.

‘If I don't go, we're having sex here.' He pointed to the hard floor. ‘Now . . .'he rasped placing his hands on either side of her head, ‘don't move.' His eyes exposed X-rated desire.

Move? She could hardly stand.

Gabe slipped back through the door. It banged shut, the noise echoing through the vast car park.

Leaning back against the wall, she dragged her fingers across her lips. She could taste him.

Slowly her eyes adjusted to the dim neon glow. She heard a noise off to her left. Had someone seen them? Did she even care?

She walked towards Gabe's car and hugged herself, smiling like an idiot. Her breathing came short and sharp as she imagined Gabe tearing the clothes from her body. Would they even make it home? She smiled as she visualised them going for it in an M25 lay by like a couple of teenagers.

Something moved behind her.

She turned. Fingers of fear touched her heart. She crept back towards the door, hyper-alert. Her soft steps the only sound in the creepy car park. A vast concrete pillar loomed ahead. She edged around it, feeling silly. Feeling . . . scared.

A quiet footfall sounded behind her. She turned. Four short, hard footsteps. A hand grasped her shoulder, wrenching her towards a van parked in a dark corner.

Every muscle leaped into flight mode as terror seized her. She struggled, wrenching herself back, clawing, kicking. Screaming. Screaming words she didn't know she knew.