Bring the Heat by Margot Radcliffe (13 ebook reader .txt) 📕

when she turned to me. She didn’t reply immediately, instead she scrambled for the jaded expression that had been her trademark in her modelling days.

I stifled the urge to tell her not to bother. Witnessing a demonstration of her fiery passion and stiletto-sharp business acumen five years ago across a boardroom table for an unforgettable fifteen minutes had etched a different Wren Bingham in my mind from the façade she wore for the public.

‘Jasper Mortimer.’

The way she said my name, striving to be curt when different textures sizzled beneath, ramped up my temperature. I wanted her attempting to say my name just like that while she was tied to my bed with silken restraints, naked and wet.

‘I don’t recall seeing your name on the guest list.’

Pausing just as long as she did before answering, I snagged a glass of champagne from the bar. ‘Because it wasn’t there. I’m privileged to be my aunt’s plus one. What I haven’t had the privilege of is being acknowledged by the hostess since my arrival. I’m feeling sorely neglected.’

She tried to look through me, as if that would stop the arc of electricity zapping between us. As if she hadn’t performed a quick once-over of my body as I got my drink. I planted myself in her line of vision until she had no choice but to focus on me, her nostrils flaring slightly as her green eyes—alluringly wide and sparkling with an interest she was trying to hide—connected with mine.

I barely heard her guests murmur their excuses and drift away, leaving us in a tight little cocoon.

‘Perhaps I would’ve already greeted you, if you hadn’t arrived half an hour late.’

I curbed a smile, inordinately pleased she’d noticed my arrival. ‘I’m willing to make amends by doubling my donation to tonight’s cause.’

One elegantly shaped eyebrow arched. ‘Name it.’

I frowned. ‘Name what?’

‘The beneficiary of tonight’s cause. What’s this mixer in aid of?’ she challenged.

Crap. I’d tuned Aunt Flo out when she’d mentioned it in the car, my frustrated attention on the echo of the ringing phone Perry was—yet again—refusing to answer. ‘Something to do with pandas in Indonesia?’ I hazarded.

Sparks gathered in her eyes. ‘Why am I not surprised you don’t know?’

Heat surged through me. ‘That suggests a curious level of personal knowledge. Have you been attempting to get to know me behind my back, Wren?’

She gave the smallest gasp, then tried that bored look again. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I can’t help it if others feel the need to gossip about you Mortimers.’

‘Oh, yeah? What else do they say about me? What else has that brilliant brain of yours retained?’

Her nose wrinkled in distaste. ‘Nothing worth repeating.’

Unable to resist, I stepped closer. ‘Are you sure? I’m happy to hear you out, set a few things straight if you get anything wrong.’

She didn’t reply. After an age of trying to decipher which I liked more on her skin—the scent of bergamot or the underlying allure of crushed lilies—I looked up to catch her gaze on my mouth.

Hell yes, that insane chemistry was still very much alive and well—and sizzling, as usual.

‘Stop that,’ she said in a tight undertone.

I raised my glass, took a lazy sip before answering. ‘Stop what?’

‘That extremely unsubtle way you’re looking at me,’ she hissed in a ferocious whisper, then glanced around. Thankfully, the music was loud enough for her words to reach my ears only. ‘The way you look at me every time we meet.’

I laughed under my breath. ‘And how do I look at you, Wren?’

‘You might lure some women with those come-fuck-me eyes but I’m not one of them so stop wasting your time.’

My laughter was a little louder, genuine amusement reminding me how long it’d been since I’d enjoyed the thrill of a chase outside the boardroom. ‘Come-fuck-me eyes? Really?’ I didn’t bother to keep my voice down.

Several people stared but I watched Wren, keenly interested in her next move.

She flashed the patently false smile she’d been doling out all evening but I caught the strain beneath the thousand-watt beam. Taking in the rest of her, I sensed tension in her lithe frame, in the fingers that clutched her glass a little too firmly. For reasons I suspected went beyond our conversation, Wren was wound extremely tight tonight.

And I was curiously concerned about it. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Of course. Why shouldn’t it be?’

I shrugged. ‘You seem a little...stressed.’

Her chin notched upward. ‘You don’t know me well enough to make that assessment.’

‘Ah, but I’ve attended enough of these shindigs to see when the hostess is fretting about the vegan-to-carnivore ratio of her canapés, and when it’s something more. This is something more.’

Her delicate throat moved in a nervous swallow, but her gaze remained bold and direct, swirling with a deep, passionate undercurrent I craved to drown in. ‘Even if it’s the latter, it’s none of your business. Now, if you’ll excuse me—’

‘Where’s Perry?’

She froze mid-brush-off, her eyes widening fractionally. ‘What?’

No, she wasn’t as carefree as she pretended.

The rumours that Bingham’s was in trouble had been circulating for a few years now. The veracity of those rumours was partly why I’d initially been reticent about joining forces with them. But, hell, call me a sucker... I’d always had a thing for the underdog.

Maybe it was a hangover from my daddy issues. Or a tool I used to my advantage when idiots underestimated me. Either way, my instincts hadn’t failed me thus far.

There were certain family and board members who considered me, at thirty-one, too young for the position I was in, notwithstanding the fact that my older brother, Damian, and my cousin Gideon had been wildly successful in their newly minted co-CEO positions of the entire Mortimer Group despite being only a few years older. Or that my cousin Bryce was acing his similar position as President of New Developments in Asia and Australia. Even my sister, Gemma, and my cousin Graciela, who’d both resisted joining the board until recently, were excelling in their chosen areas of expertise.

I