Bring the Heat Margot Radcliffe (classic romance novels TXT) 📖

a member of the board came with a ten-per-cent profit bonus. Cutting out Bingham and making it an exclusive Mortimer deal meant Hugh received a bigger bonus. About two hundred million.’

And he was probably in such a hurry to walk away from his family that he’d been unflinchingly ruthless. ‘I see.’

‘What’s going on, Jasper?’ Aunt Flo asked curiously.

The cocktail of bitterness, anger and arousal swirled faster inside me as I looked over her shoulder to find Wren watching me. ‘It’s just business.’

‘No, it’s not. You’re not cut-throat like your father. But you’re just as dogged. I had my reservations when I heard about your deal with Perry, considering his problems,’ she murmured. ‘But knowing you, you’ll move mountains to make it work.’

‘Forgive me if I don’t welcome the comparison to Hugh,’ I rasped.

Her eyes clouded with momentary sadness. ‘His blood may run through your veins but you’re your own man where it counts, Jasper. Whatever you’re getting involved in, just...protect your heart. I don’t want to see you hurt again.’

Another harsh laugh bubbled up, but I swallowed it down. And just about managed to stop myself from telling her that, while I’d struck a deal with Perry Bingham in a moment of madness, perhaps even a sting of conscience and despite Perry’s rumoured drinking problem, somewhere in the mix was the reasoning that it would put me in a good position to strike a better deal with Wren in the near future. Business-wise and in other ways, too.

‘You have that gleam in your eye, Jasper. Am I wasting my breath by telling you to be a dear and spare my nerves?’ Aunt Flo asked.

I couldn’t promise that. Hell, I knew there would be plenty more fireworks between Wren and me in the future. ‘I can promise dinner at The Dorchester as soon as my schedule lets up a little. I know how much you like their new chef. We can check out the competition in the process.’

She smiled. ‘Cecil is a culinary genius. And very easy on the eyes. I’ll hold you to that promise,’ she said, just before another acquaintance snagged her attention.

Briefly alone, I tried to suppress the tangled emotions churning through me.

I don’t want to see you hurt again.

As much as I wanted to put my parents out of my mind for ever, to rub them from my existence as much as they’d rubbed me from theirs, the ten-year-old boy’s anguish from relentless rejection, which I’d never been quite successful in smothering, wouldn’t let me. But it was a good reminder not to count on anyone but myself. Not to let frivolous emotion get in the way of business.

I wanted this deal with Bingham because it was sound and profitable.

I also wanted to fuck Wren Bingham, once she got over the pesky family-feud thing. The two were mutually exclusive enough not to cause me to lose any sleep.

Which was why when Wren hurried away from her mother, her shoulders tight with barely-harnessed emotions, I followed.

She was heading towards the far end of the grounds, her heels sinking soundlessly into the grass. She didn’t hear me until I was six feet from her.

‘Wren?’

Her head whipped around. ‘Are you following me?’ she asked sharply. But then she trembled. A tiny reaction, but, coupled with the slight wobble of her mouth, it hastened my steps, the peculiar punch in my chest unsettling me.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Other than the fact that you’re stalking me now?’

‘Hardly. You just seem—’

‘There’s nothing wrong. Just leave me alone, please?’

I looked beyond her to the high hedges of what looked like an elaborate garden. ‘If everything’s fine, why are you running away from your own party?’

‘I’m not running away. And it’s not my party—’ She caught herself and snatched in a deep breath. ‘Why the hell am I explaining myself to you?’

‘Because sometimes it helps to vent.’ Not that it’d done me much good. Ever. All my good intentions had ended in disaster, the repercussions of which I still lived with. But this wasn’t the time or place to examine old scars. ‘Or so I’ve heard, anyway.’

‘Do you go around dishing out inexperienced advice?’

I shook my head, unwilling to drag my far from delightful childhood into this moment. ‘We’re not talking about me.’

‘You’re right, we’re not. In fact, I’m going to pretend you’re not here at all. Feel free to make that a reality,’ she suggested, right before she turned on her heel and marched away from me.

And since I was far too intrigued to heed her brush-off... I followed.

If she gave even a hint of needing comfort, I’d offer her a shoulder, and other parts of my body, to cry on.

Bloody hell. I cringed at my own crassness. Then shrugged it off. I am who I am. And that person wanted Wren Bingham any way he could get her. Besides that, though, I was here on Mortimer business. Technically.

She ignored me until she reached a bricked pathway. Then she turned and stared at me for several seconds without speaking. For a moment, a deep yearning flitted over her face, then her expression blanked. ‘You’re really not going to leave me alone, are you?’ she murmured.

‘Not until you tell me what’s wrong.’ Before she could reply, I jerked my chin at the hedge. ‘What’s behind there?’

Her eyes narrowed, her fingers twitching against her thighs. ‘Nothing interesting. Just the garden. A pool. Gazebo. The usual.’

She was lying. Or at least holding something back. ‘What else?’

‘Why do you want to know?’ she demanded, then flinched as someone laughed loudly nearby.

‘You look like you need a breather. What’s out there?’

‘A maze,’ she confessed with reluctance. ‘I go there sometimes...to think.’

Before my brain could growl its warning that this was a bad idea, I stepped closer. ‘Show me.’

She tensed. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I’d like to see this maze. A quick tour. Then, if you still insist, I’ll leave.’

Something flickered in her eyes, undercurrents of lust zinging between us. Her gaze dropped to my lips and I almost wanted to crow in triumph. ‘Fine. Let’s