Page 46 of Enemies with Benefits

I shifted in my seat, a little riled and lot bewildered by his acuity. ‘Don’t shrink me, Jasper.’

A wry, cynical smile curved his lips. ‘I’m not. But have you considered that I’m stuck in the same situation? My nightmare of a father did something to yours and now the sins of our fathers are being visited upon us.’

‘Don’t you mean the sins ofyourfather?’ I snapped.

He flinched. ‘Since we’re talking about Hugh Mortimer, renowned bastard and destroyer of lives, then yes, maybe I am willing to take full responsibility on his behalf.’

A touch mollified, if a little unjustly since I suspected my father also bore some of the responsibility, I breathed through the easing of the knots inside me. ‘Careful there or I’ll take you up on thatmea culpayou’re bandying about.’

He shrugged. ‘Take it, sweetheart. It’s all yours.’

The peculiar thickness in his voice made that curious little hook catch once more in my midriff. Only this time it was positioned higher, dangerously close to where my heart hammered an erratic tattoo. He switched lanes in a suave move, increasing our speed. He said nothing more after that and I gladly welcomed the silence, a chance to contemplate how best to deal with my mother.

When we pulled into the private-jet section of the airport just outside London forty minutes later, it was with the acceptance that it would be better to let things play out, show her the proof of my success when I accomplished what I meant to. Anything else would be akin to banging my head against a stone wall.

What if it’s not enough?

That bleak little question echoed through me, threatening to dull my enjoyment of my surroundings long after I’d boarded the seriously opulent Mortimer jet.

But with the even bleaker thought that this was a cycle I’d found myself repeating with my mother, and that, like before, I needed to snap out of it, I forced myself to look around. To steep myself back into the present as the plane taxied down the runway and rose into the sky with a smooth take-off.

The inside of the 747 private jet was worthy of its own spread in a premium airline magazine. I’d flown in enough such jets in my modelling days to recall that the general layout meant the bedroom suites were located at the back.

Back then, I’d done nothing more than sleep to mitigate jet lag, but I grew hot and needy at the thought of changing that on this trip. The flight to Morocco would take a little over four hours. The possibility of stepping off the plane as a member of the mile-high club made me tingle.

On the tail of that thought, Jasper stepped out of the cockpit where he’d gone after take-off. And just like that, my breathing bottomed out.

In my unsettled mood, I’d failed to clock what he was wearing and as he strolled down the aisle towards me it struck me that I was seeing him in less formal clothes for the first time. Then came the more potent acceptance of how devastatingly handsome he looked in whatever attire he wore. Today’s selection of white polo shirt with raised collar, coupled with khaki chinos that hugged lean hips and hard, muscled thighs, lent him a charming swagger and assured sophistication that made my mouth dry and my chest palpitate like a hormonal schoolgirl the closer he got.

And when he was close enough to touch, those distinctive eyes piercing mine, it was all I could do not to launch myself at him. Because being in Jasper’s arms was a guarantee that every other thought would be pushed out. That I would only be consumed by him. Which was a scary thought in itself...

Don’t you know this will only have one unfortunate ending? Don’t you know that’s what they live for?

‘You still have war and pain in your eyes,’ Jasper murmured, a thoughtful observation forged with a little steel and a lot of contemplation. ‘Will you permit me to find a way of combating that?’ he asked.

The shiver that went through me was a warning against embracing that offer. It was strong enough to make me shake my head. ‘I’ll pass, thanks.’

If my answer displeased him, he hid it well. In a blink, the steel was gone from his eyes and he was taking the seat next to mine. ‘Something else, then? Champagne? Or shall I order us something to eat?’

With my mother’s warning still echoing through me, I lifted a leather briefcase from where I’d dropped it next to my seat.

‘I’m not hungry. And the champagne can wait for a while.’

I pulled out the newest version of the contract and placed it in front of him. We’d been dancing around with a parry and thrust that was frankly a little too thrilling. But the bottom line was that I had to secure Bingham’s business interests regardless of whether I shared Jasper’s bed or not.

‘You said you’d consider a nine-month profit-sharing clause. I’ve changed my mind. I think a six-month contract is a more viable option.’

He remained silent for almost a minute. Then his shrewd gaze flicked over my face. ‘Convince me.’

‘Hobbling Bingham’s into working with one hand behind our backs stymies your productivity, too. We need money to make more money. With an earlier profit-sharing contract, you make half a per cent more than you would in the next six months. I’ve done the figures.’ I rose from the chair. ‘I’ll go and freshen up while you look it over.’

Instead of concentrating on the file I’d placed before him, his eyes travelled over my body. ‘Or we can look it over together and I’ll help you freshen up when I’m done?’

I smiled even while my pulse leapt wildly. ‘No can do. I wouldn’t want to ruin your concentration.’

‘Too late for that,’ he responded, his voice hoarse with arousal.

I leaned over and tapped a finger on the file. ‘Deal with this, Jasper. It’s important to me that we’re on the same page by the time we land.’

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