One Hot New York Night
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Melanie Milburne
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CHAPTER ONE
ZOEY SAW HIM the moment she stepped into the London auditorium where the advertising conference was being held. It wasn’t hard to make out Finn O’Connell in a crowd—he was always the one surrounded by drooling, swooning women. At six foot six, he was head and shoulders over everyone else, with the sort of looks that could stop a bullet train. And a woman’s heart. An unguarded woman’s heart, that was.
But, just this once, Zoey allowed herself a secret little drool of her own. She might hate him with a passion but that didn’t mean she couldn’t admire some aspects of him—like his taut and toned body, his strong, powerful, muscle-packed legs, his impossibly broad shoulders, his lean chiselled jaw or his laughing brown eyes. Other aspects, not so much. If there were an Academy for Arrogance, Finn O’Connell would be top of the class.
As if he sensed her looking at him, Finn turned his head and glanced her way, his prominent black eyebrows rising ever so slightly above his eyes. Zoey was glad she wasn’t easily provoked into a blush, as that mocking gaze moved over her in one slowly assessing sweep. His lips curved upwards in a smile that sent a frisson of awareness right through her body. It was the smile of a conqueror, a man who knew what he wanted and exactly how he was going to get it.
He moved away from his posse of adoring fans and strode purposefully in Zoey’s direction. She knew she should whip round and dart out the nearest exit before he could get to her, but she couldn’t seem to get her feet to move. It was as if he had locked her in place, frozen her to the spot with the commanding force of his dark brown gaze. She always tried to avoid being alone with him, not trusting herself to resist either slapping him or throwing herself at him. She didn’t know why he of all people should have such an effect on her. He was too confident, too charming, too polished, too everything.
Finn came to stand within a foot of her, close enough for her to smell the expensive citrus notes of his aftershave and to see the devilish ah, now I’ll have some fun glint in his eyes. ‘Good morning, Ms Brackenfield.’
His bow and mock-formal tone stirred the hornet’s nest of her hatred. The blood simmered in her veins until she thought they would explode. Zoey straightened her spine, steeled her gaze and set her mouth into a prim line. ‘Looks like you’ve got your love life sorted for the next month.’ She flicked her gaze in the direction of the group of women he’d just left, her tone rich with icy disdain.
His smile broadened and the glint in his eyes intensified to a sharp point of diamond-bright light that made something at the base of her spine fizz. ‘You do me a disservice. I could get through that lot in a week.’ His voice was a deep, sexy baritone, the sort of voice that made her think of tangled sheets, sweaty bodies, panting breaths, primal needs. Needs Zoey had ignored for months and would keep on ignoring...or try to, which was not so easy with Finn looking so damn sexy and standing within touching distance.
Being in Finn’s company made her feel strangely out of kilter. Her usual sang froid was replaced with a hearty desire to slap his designer-stubbled face and screech a mouthful of obscenities at him. She raised her chin a fraction, determined to hold his gaze without flinching. ‘One wonders if you have a revolving door on your bedroom.’
Finn’s gaze drifted to her mouth, his indolent half-smile sending another frisson through her body. ‘You’re welcome to check it out some time and see for yourself.’
Zoey gripped the tote bag strap hanging off her shoulder for something to do with her hands, her heart skipping a beat, two beats, three, as if she had suddenly developed a bad case of arrhythmia. ‘Does that line usually work for you?’ Honestly, if her tone got any frostier, they would have to turn on the heating in the auditorium.
‘Always.’ His lazy smile sent a soft, feathery sensation down the back of her neck and spine, and her willpower requested sick leave.
Zoey could see why he had a reputation as a playboy—he was charm personified in every line of his gym-toned body. But she would resist him even if it killed her. She stretched her lips into a tight, no-teeth-showing smile. ‘Well, I’d better let you get back to your avid fans over there.’
She began to turn away, but he stalled her by placing his hand lightly on her wrist and a high-voltage electrical charge shot through her body. He removed his hand within a second or two, but the sensation lingered on in her flesh, travelling from her wrist, up her arm and down her spine like a softly fizzing firework.
‘I was expecting to see your dad here. Or maybe I’ve missed him in the crowd.’ Finn turned and scanned the auditorium before meeting her gaze once more. ‘He mentioned in a text the other day about catching up for a coffee.’
Zoey couldn’t imagine what Finn would have in common with her father other than they both ran advertising agencies. And as to having a coffee with him, well, if only it was caffeine her father was addicted to. It was no secret her dad had a drinking problem—he had disgraced himself publicly a few too many times in spite of her efforts to keep him from harming the business.
Brackenfield Advertising was her birthright, her career, everything she had worked so hard for. She would do almost anything to keep the business on track, which meant sometimes feeling a little compromised when it came to managing her father. And right now, her father was at home nursing yet another hangover. And it wasn’t from indulging in too much caffeine.
‘My father is...catching up on work at home today.’
‘Then maybe you and I could grab a coffee instead.’
‘I’m busy.’ Zoey lifted her chin and narrowed her gaze to flint. ‘I didn’t know you and my father were bosom buddies.’
His lips quirked in an enigmatic smile. ‘Business rivals can still be friends, can’t they?’
‘Not in my book.’ Zoey pointedly rubbed at her wrist, annoyed her skin was still tingling. One thing was for certain—she would never be Finn O’Connell’s friend. He was a player, and she was done with players. Done for good. She pulled her sleeve back down over her wrist. She hadn’t been touched by a man in months. Why should Finn’s touch have such an impact on her?
She couldn’t deny he was potently attractive. Tall, lean and toned, with an olive complexion that was currently deeply tanned, he looked every inch the sophisticated, suave self-made businessman. Enormously wealthy, today he was casually dressed—as were most delegates—his crew-neck lightweight cotton sweater showcasing the breadth of his broad shoulders and his navy-blue chinos the length and strength of his legs.
But, while Finn looked casual, nothing about his approach to business was laid back. He was focussed and ruthlessly driven, pulling in contracts so lucrative they made Zoey’s eyes water in envy.
Zoey could sense his sensual power coming off him in waves. She was aware of him as she was aware of no other man. She had known him for a couple of years or so, running into him at various advertising functions. He had been her only rival for an account a few months ago and it still infuriated her that he’d won it instead of her, mostly because she knew for a fact he had a friend on the board of directors of the company—a female friend.
‘I hear you’re pitching for the Frascatelli account,’ Finn said with another mercurial smile. ‘Leonardo Frascatelli is only considering three ad companies’ pitches for his campaign. A battle between friends, yes?’
Zoey blinked and her stomach dropped. Oh no, did that mean he was vying for it too? With only three candidates in the running, she’d been confident she was in with a chance. But what would happen to her chance if Finn was in the mix?
The Italian hotel chain was the biggest account she had ever gone after, and if she won it she wouldn’t have to worry about her dad frittering away the business’s assets any more. She would finally prove to her father she had what it took to run the company. She ran the tip of her tongue over her suddenly carpet-dry lips, her heart beating so fast it threatened to pop out of her ribcage. She could not lose the Frascatelli account.
She. Could. Not.
And most certainly not to Finn O’Connell.
Zoey was flying to New York that evening to present it the following afternoon. Her presentation was on her laptop in the cloak room along with her overnight bag. Did that mean he was flying over there too? ‘I can’t think of a single set of circumstances that would ever make me consider being friends with you.’
‘Not very creative of you,’ he drawled, his gaze sweeping over her in an indolent fashion. ‘I can think of plenty.’
Zoey gave him a look that would have sent a swarm of angry wasps ducking for cover. ‘I can only imagine what sort of ridiculous scenario a mind like yours would come up with—that is, of course, if you can get it out of the gutter long enough.’
Finn gave a rich, deep laugh that sent a tingle shimmering down her spine. Drat the man for being so incredibly attractive. Why couldn’t he could have one just one physical imperfection? His mellifluous voice was one of the first things she had noticed about him. He could read out loud the most boring, soporific financial report and she would be hanging on his every word. His smiling dark brown eyes made her lips twitch in spite of her effort not to be taken in by his practised charm.
His mouth was nicely sculptured, his lips not too thick or too thin but somewhere perfectly in between. A mouth that promised erotic expertise in its every delicious contour. A mouth she had to keep well away from. No way was she joining the conga line to dive into his bed. No freaking way.
‘I wouldn’t dare to describe how my mind works.’ He gave a slow smile and added, ‘I might shock you to the core of your being.’
The core of her being was still recovering from his lazy smile, thank you very much. There was a fluttery sensation between her legs, and she hated herself for being so weak. So what if he was smouldering hot? So what if he made her feel more of a woman than she had ever felt just by looking at her with that sardonic gaze?
She had to resist him. She would be nothing more than a notch on his bedpost, a fleeting dalliance he would view as yet another conquest.
‘Nothing about you would shock me, Finn. You’re so boringly predictable, it’s nauseating.’ Not strictly true. He kept her on her toes more than any man she’d ever met. He constantly surprised her with his whip-smart repartee. She even—God forgive her—enjoyed their sparring. It gave her a rush, a secret thrill, to engage in a verbal scrap with him because his quick-witted mind more than matched her own.
Finn’s eyes kindled, as if her carelessly flung words had thrown down a challenge he couldn’t wait to act upon. ‘Ah, well then, I’ll have to lift my game to see if I can improve your opinion of me.’ His lips curved in another smile that curled her toes inside her shoes.
‘Finn!’ A young blonde woman came tottering over in vertiginous heels with her hand outstretched, waving a business card held in her perfectly manicured fingers. ‘I forgot to give you my number. Call me so we can catch up soon?’
Finn took the card and slipped it into his trouser pocket, his smile never faltering. ‘Will do.’
The young woman looked as if she had just won the mega-draw lottery, her eyes so bright they could have lit up a football stadium. She gave Finn a fingertip wave and tottered back off to join her gaggle of friends.
Zoey rolled her eyes and, turning to one side, made vomiting noises. She straightened to lock gazes with Finn. ‘Really?’
‘She’s an intern. I’m mentoring her.’
Zoey choked on a cynical laugh. She didn’t know what annoyed her more—his straight face or his assumption she would be fooled by it. ‘In the boardroom or the bedroom?’
His eyes never left hers, his mouth twitching at the corners with amusement. ‘Your jealousy is immensely flattering. Who knew behind that ice maiden thing you’ve got going on is a woman so smoking-hot for me?’
Zoey curled her hands into fists, her anger flaring like a flame doused by an accelerant. It formed a red mist before her eyes and made each of her limbs stiffen like the branches of a dead tree. He enjoyed goading her—she could see it in his eyes. He liked getting a rise out of her and never wasted an opportunity to do so. He was playing her, and she was a fool to respond to him. But how was she supposed to ignore him? He wasn’t the sort of man you could ignore. Oh, how she would love to slap his face. How she would love to kick him in the shins. How she would love to rake her nails—her unmanicured nails—down his face.
And, God help her, how she would love to sleep with him to see if he was as exciting a lover as gossip had it. Not that she would ever act on such a desire. Since being cheated on by her long-term boyfriend, Rupert, she was completely and utterly over men. She had given her all to her ex and had been completely blindsided by his betrayal. She didn’t want the complications and compromises of a relationship any more.
But whenever she was anywhere near Finn O’Connell every female hormone in her body went into overdrive. She became aware of her body in his presence—of the tingles and flutters and arrows of lust almost impossible to ignore. But ignore them she must. Sleeping with the enemy was not in her game plan.
Zoey flashed him a livid glare, her chest heaving with the effort to contain her rage. ‘I wouldn’t sleep with you if you paid me a squillion pounds.’
His dark eyes danced and his confident smile irked her beyond endurance. ‘Oh, babe, you surely don’t think I’m the kind of man who has to pay for sex?’ He stepped closer and placed two fingers beneath her chin, locking his gaze on hers. ‘Can you feel that?’ His voice lowered to a gravelly burr, his eyes holding hers in a mesmerising lock.
‘F-feel what?’ Zoey was annoyed her voice wobbled but her heart was leaping about like a mad thing in her chest, his fingers on her face sending a wave of scorching heat through her body.
Finn stroked his thumb over the circle of her chin, his warm minty breath wafting across her lips, mingling with her own breath like two invisible lovers getting it on. ‘The energy we create together. I felt it the minute you walked into the room.’
No way was she admitting she felt it too. No way. Zoey disguised a swallow, her heart-rate accelerating, her inner core tingling as if he had touched her between the legs instead of on her chin. Why wasn’t she stepping back? Why wasn’t she slapping his arrogant face? She was under some sort of sensual spell, captivated by the feel of his thumb pad caressing her chin in slow strokes. Intoxicated by the clean, freshly laundered smell of his clothes, the citrus top notes and the sexy bergamot base note of his aftershave. She could feel the forcefield of his sensual energy calling out to her in invisible waves.
Her senses reeled from his closeness, his dangerously tempting closeness. She was acutely aware of his touch, even though it was only the pad of his thumb—it felt like a searing brand, the warmth seeping through her flesh travelling to her feminine core in a quicksilver streak.
Zoey had been celibate for months. She hadn’t even thought about sex for weeks and weeks on end. Now, her mind was filling with images of being in bed with Finn in a tangle of limbs and crumpled bed linen, her body slick with sweat and glowing from earth-shattering pleasure. And she was in no doubt it would be earth-shattering pleasure. Being near him like this made her body pulse with longing—a raw, primal longing she wished she could block out, anaesthetise or bludgeon away. It was a persistent ache between her legs, a pounding ache in time with her heartbeat, an ache his touch triggered, inflamed, incited.
But somehow, with a mammoth effort, she got her willpower to scramble back out of sick bay. ‘You’re imagining it...’ Zoey licked her lips and pulled out of his hold, rubbing at her chin and shooting him a frowning look through slitted eyes. ‘If you ever put your hands on me again, I won’t be answerable for the consequences,’ she added through tight lips.
He gave a mock-shudder, his playful smile making his eyes gleam. ‘Listen, babe, you’ll be the one begging me to put my hands on you. I can guarantee it. Ciao.’
He walked away without another word and Zoey was left seething, grinding her teeth to powder, hating him all the more, because she had a horrible feeling he might be right.
