The Devil's Touch (3 page)

Angelica started to giggle – and then Lucien Lance’s dark flinty eyes locked onto hers.

Angelica panicked. She felt her heart skip fluttering beats and her legs turned to jelly. Suddenly it felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. She gasped, feeling a shock of simmering heat cramp in the pit of her stomach with such clenching force that it took all of her strength not to double over.

Then, when she could bare no more – when the intensity of his gaze threatened to sear her – she lowered her eyes and tried just to breathe again.

“Thank you, one and all,” she heard Lucien’s voice over the rush of blood in her ears as he suddenly began to speak to the gathered crowd. She closed her eyes for a moment. His voice was like the touch of a lover’s fingers along the nape of her neck; tantalizing, but warm and resonate. And as she concentrated on the sound of his voice she felt a flush of blood spread warmly across her breasts and turn her nipples into hard little pebbles.

For heaven’s sake, Angelica! Get a grip.

She opened her eyes again slowly, aware that she was swaying slightly. Lucien Lance was working the audience, intent and concentrated as he spoke. In the dramatic lighting of overhead lamps, the strength of his jawbone and hard handsome lines of his face were emphasized. Angelica watched the alert eyes sweeping around the room, seeming to reach out and connect with them all; including them, impressing them.

Then it was over and all around Angelica people were applauding. Lucien raised his hands and smiled his thanks, then bounded off the platform and began to drive his way forward through the crowd of well-wishers and admirers.

He came toward her.

Angelica did not move.

Their eyes met, the smile stilled on Lucien’s lips. He gazed at her and his expression became solemn.

Angelica flinched. Her hand flew to her mouth.

The moment seemed to last for an eternity and Angelica just stood paralyzed, feeling Lucien Lance’s eyes upon her. They were pirate eyes, wolfish, and glinting as dangerously as a blade.

“Hello,” she said softly.

Lucien Lance gaped at her in astonishment, and then the shutters came down over his eyes and his face became stony. He raised an eyebrow and Angelica saw the mockery and challenge in his eyes. His expression was dismissive and crushing.

“A man like me needs a woman who is exciting and interesting and willing to try new things in the bedroom.”

The words seemed deafening in Angelica’s ears as the memory and the pain overwhelmed her. And now she could see the same damning dismissive look in this man’s eyes. It was the look her boyfriend had given her that afternoon when he had told her he was leaving her for another woman.

Before she could react, Lucien Lance turned away from her. Angelica stood for another second and her instincts screamed in her head to flee; to run from the room before she made a fool of herself again.

Just hours ago she had ben betrayed and humiliated by her boyfriend. Now she was about to proposition one of the most powerful men in the business world, and for a fleeting moment she worried how she would deal with the embarrassment of being rejected. She paused for one more erratic heartbeat – and then her feet carried her forward so that when Lucifer Lance – the great demon of Wall Street – turned back, Angelica Benson was standing right in front of him.

The man stared at her.

She swallowed. “You’re Lucifer Lance,” Angelica said and her voice sounded small and quavering.

“Lucien,” he corrected her.

She nodded jerkily. “But people call you Lucifer.”

Lucien smiled at her bleakly. “Only my enemies.”

Angelica nodded again and stared down at her empty wine glass. She realized that the conversation was hardly sparkling, but her wits had deserted her. She was standing there like a gawking blushing girl, gazing up into his handsome hard face.

His eyes were black and penetrating.

She held out her hand suddenly. “My name is Angelica.”

He took her hand. His skin was warm and dry and she could sense and feel the restrained strength of the man’s strong fingers as they pressed gently against her own. The image of him, so strong and overpowering, gave her a giddy little chill of apprehension.

“Nice to meet you,” Lucien said. He could feel the girl’s trembles; she was shaking as if she were in the grips of a high fever.

“Do I scare you?” his voice sounded amused.

“No,” Angelica looked gravely up into his face, hypnotized by the magnetism of his eyes. “But I am nervous.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because…” Angelica began and then choked. She looked so pale she might faint, and when she finally spoke again her voice had dropped to a low breathless whisper, “… because somehow I want to convince you to spend the night with me.”

* * *

Sunset flamed and faded in a spectacular display of pyrotechnics that drew the partygoers out onto the marina’s wide decks. It was cool, and across the bay the city’s lights reflected like jewels across the rippling water.

Lucien took Angelica’s elbow and guided her along one of the concrete jetties until they were standing alone between the creaking mass of sleek game fishing boats and gleaming luxury yachts. He backed her up against a fire-hose cabinet and stared into her eyes for a long moment.

“I assume,” he said slowly, “that you don’t make a regular practice of throwing yourself at strange men.”

Angelica shook her head shamefully. “No, I don’t,” she confessed.

“Good.”

“Was it… was it that bad?”

“Yes,” Lucien said bluntly. “It really was.”

He searched her eyes and she looked away quickly. Her face paled and her expression pained. Her eyelids fluttered, and as her eyes glistened with tears she leaned back so her face was hidden by the darkness.

There was silence, and in it Lucien felt an unfamiliar, almost guilty rush of regret and remorse. He had expected her to fly at him with a snap of anger. He had not expected the tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you or cause a scene. It was stupid to think that you would be attracted… attracted to me.”

Lucien pulled the knot of his tie down an inch and sighed.

“I owe you an apology,” he said, even though there was harshness in the tone of his voice. He wasn’t accustomed to apologizing to anybody, and she sensed it.

Angelica dabbed at her eyes and sniffed. “Congratulations on your deal,” she said softly. “I’m sure you will get everything you deserve.”

Lucien narrowed his eyes suddenly. Was this it now? Was this the vicious, vengeful retort he had been expecting?

“I really do wish you great success,” Angelica added sincerely, and Lucien felt an absurd flood of relief. So, she wasn’t some nasty attention seeker. So what then?

Over Angelica’s shoulder, Lucien saw the cabin lights aboard one of the game fishing boats blink on and glow yellow in the darkening night. She was a 36’ cruiser, all fiberglass and gleaming stainless steel. Painted across the stern in bold black letters was the name,
‘Aquaholic’
.

Behind heavily tinted cabin windows he saw a dark shadow moving and he lowered his voice before speaking again.

“If you’re looking for romance, you are trying to seduce the wrong man,” he said. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face to his so he could see her eyes. “I don’t do long term relationships,” he said flatly, testing her. “So if you think seducing me is going to mean you can get your hands on – ”

Angelica’s eyes suddenly flew wide and she jerked her head away from his touch.

“You’re a bastard,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said. “I am because I have to be. But I’m honest. I don’t want you to think that bedding me is your ticket to wealth. It’s not.”

This man made Angelica uneasy. There was a raw animal intensity about him. The way he looked at her made her skin tingle. He did it now, glaring at her fiercely, trying to cower her; to drive her from him.

She turned away and looked across to the glistening lights of the city. She hugged herself about the shoulders for the fluttering breeze off the bay was as nagging through the thin material of her dress as the echo of her boyfriend’s cruel words.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. They were tears of self-pity, but also tears of humiliation and anger.

“I’m not interested in your money, Mr Lance. And I’m not looking for love, or even a relationship.”

Lucien frowned. He put his hand on the bare skin of her shoulder and she flinched as though he had burned and branded her.

“What do you want?” His voice was gentler now.

She did not answer immediately, but he could see that she was agitated, then she caught her breath and turned back to him. She spoke softly, her voice husky with shyness, so that he barely caught her words.

“One night of sex and passion. Nothing more.”

Lucien shook his head. “Do you realize how irrational you sound? Do you know what kind of a man I am?”

“I’ve heard stories…”

“Then why?”

“I have my reasons!” she snapped coldly.

Lucien smiled sardonically. “If you’re trying to be sultry and mysterious, you’ve left it a little late,” he said. “The time for mystery was before you propositioned me.” Even though his voice sounded gentled and placatory, Angelica shuddered. It was all turning out so badly; she did not want to be mocked, nor humiliated. Nor did she want this man’s sympathy.

Somewhere nearby in the night there was a sudden splash and then music and a drunken burst of laughter from one of the yachts, and it sounded to Angelica that even the laughter of strangers was directed at her.

She took a long aching breath, and without another word suddenly stepped quickly back towards the yacht club. Lucien caught her in three long strides, grabbing her stiffened shoulders, spinning her around into his arms. The top of her head was level with his shoulder and in the night light her hair glowed silken.

Lucien was shocked. It was the first time he had been so close to her; held her – recognized the warm smoothness of her skin and caught the scent of her perfume. The strength of his sudden physical desire for her struck him like a fist.

Now she was so close, her chin lifted, and her lips were soft and glossy, her eyes still flooded and bright with more tears. He knew he should walk away. Now, before it was too late…

Over Angelica’s shoulder, Lucien could see the partygoers gathering again in the doorway of the restaurant, heading back inside to the warmth and the light.

Lucien considered running the gauntlet of those people again and the likelihood of being ambushed by more handshakes and well-wishers was like a cold, damp dread. Then he looked down into Angelica’s tear-smeared face.

Lucien made up his mind in an instant, and before he could regret his decision he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her close against him.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Angelica looked up into his face, her expression a mask of shock and disbelief. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“But… but why?”

Lucien frowned grimly. “Because I’d rather take my chances with you than with that horde of jackals.”

* * *

Adjacent to the yacht club was a boat yard bordered by high mesh fences and padlocked gates.

Lucien led Angelica along the narrow paved promenade towards the carpark.

Beyond the high fences they could see work sheds and a fishing boat on the slipway, floodlit by arc lights that cast grotesque shadows across the basin.

In the carpark were assembled a dozen black limousines, and Lucien found his driver sitting on a park bench smoking contentedly and trying to read a newspaper in the gloomy light.

“To the hotel please, Edward.”

It was a forty-minute drive back into the city and Lucien slumped into the far corner of the soft leather seating, and stared thoughtfully out of the window as the limousine nosed its way into the traffic stream and then accelerated onto the freeway.

“I don’t know your name,” Lucien said suddenly, and Angelica was drawn from the depths of her own thoughts and stared at him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your name?” Lucien asked.

“Angelica,” she reminded him. “Angelica Benson.”

Lucien frowned, and she noticed a little bird’s foot of creases in his furrowed brow above the compelling dark eyes.

“That won’t do. Too many bad memories,” he hinted vaguely. “Can I call you Angel?”

“Yes,” Angelica said. “Can I call you Lucifer?”

He stared into her face for long startled moments – and then suddenly he burst into a fit of unaffected laughter. It was a rich, natural sound, seeming to come from deep within his broad chest and Angelica marveled at the way his face changed. In an instant the frown and creases smoothed away – and even his eyes seemed to lighten and grow larger.

“Perfect!” he said. “What a perfect pair we would make. ‘The Angel and Lucifer’.”

Angelica found the sound of his laugh infectious and she began to giggle.

The miles slid away, the sound of the limousine’s engine a lulling purr, and when they hit the city Lucien leaned across the seat and pointed beyond Angelica’s window to a corner high-rise office block.

“One of my investments,” he said.

Suddenly he was very close to her; Angelica could feel the warmth of his body and smell the musky man-smell across the inches that separated them.

Angelica felt as though she might suffocate. Every breath became an effort. Having his body so close set her skin on fire and stretched every nerve to breaking point. She felt the muscles in her thighs begin to tremble as though she had run a long way. Her heartbeat began to race.

Lucien noticed it all, and he smiled silkily. He slid his hand across Angelica’s knee and rested it on her thigh.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes,” Angelica breathed the lie.

Lucien leaned closer still, brushing his shoulder against her. Sparks flew along the length of her arm. With his free hand he twisted a finger around a whorl of her blonde hair and then his mouth was against her ear, his warm breath caressing her throat.