by Dani Collins

Here is chapter one from one of our two runners up in the Presents writing competition: The Heiress’s Instant Seduction  by Dani Collins. Since it took me all day to get this chapter up, we’ll post the synopsis on Wednesday and critique on Thursday.
CHAPTER ONE

This sort of incompetence was the reason Gray Maddock kept an apartment here in New York.  Today he’d let curiosity drive him to try this vintage hotel, however, and now was paying the price.  The boy behind the check-in desk expected him to accept a coupon.
 
“It’s the c-convention, sir.”  The young man’s voice broke.  “Your room isn’t ready, but if you’d like to have a drink on us, we’ll advise you the moment it’s available.”
 
Gray didn’t want to hear it.  He could see the place was overbooked.  Gone went his intention to chat up anyone with a sense of the building’s history.

“Or, um–”  The clerk’s gaze fell without Gray doing anything but show his frown of impatience.  The young man frantically typed.  “Perhaps if I…no, um…”

Gray let his gaze stray across the lobby full of women.  They came in every shape and size, most dressed like tourists on their way to the Met.  The din was unbearable and there was no chance in hell he’d bother staying now that–

Hello.

A statuesque redhead stepped out of his line of sight, bringing a brunette into view.  While every other table in the lounge held a dozen women, she sat alone, tucked at a table against the far wall, a glass of white wine at her elbow, her hand draped across an open book.  She was staring at him.

No ostentatious dinner rings or overteased curls on that one.  Just a pretty locket against her throat and hair loose and wavy over her shoulders.  She wore a light sweater in a pale blue that suggested cashmere, leaving Gray with the impression she wasn’t trotting out her Sunday Best, but wore class as a habit. 

He hadn’t trolled for women in bars since he’d been an adolescent working the London docks, but the bold way she met his gaze, and held it, primed his male instinct to hunt.  While the young man behind the counter broke a sweat, typing furiously, Gray calmly reached for the bookmark-sized paper he’d been offered. 
 
“I’m thirsty after all.”

* * *
Angelique Traviata jerked her gaze back to her book, attempting to shake off an astonishing encounter, unable to understand why she’d gone breathless and dizzy over something so insignificant.  She’d thought the man at the counter was her ex-husband, Raul, but he wasn’t and then, well honestly, it wasn’t as if men had never looked at her before.  She was healthy and trim–reasonably attractive.  She never encouraged more than friendship, but she’d known loads of handsome men, perhaps even some more attractive than the man she’d just seen, though not by much.
 
He’d been very attractive.  If she had the nerve, she’d look for him again, just to see what had made her react so strongly.  Just for the distraction.  Women crowded the lounge, so at least she didn’t feel too out of place enjoying a sauv blanc alone, but she couldn’t read with such a buzz of activity around her. 

Of course her inability to concentrate might have a little to do with meeting Raul tomorrow.  Her hand shook as she reached for the stem of her glass, furious anew.  How could he think to sell their beach house without her knowledge or consent?  She had plans–

“May I join you?” a male voice asked, his accent vaguely British yet not.

Angelique felt the impact of his presence before she’d properly taken in that he was the man she’d seen seconds ago.  Like a shock wave pressing her back into her chair, his sudden appearance compressed the breath from her lungs.  No, he wasn’t handsome, but he was striking with his sharp features, lean height and steel-shot hair.
 
The voices around her quieted while one of his dark brows lifted in question.  The way his smoky gaze caught and held hers demanded she acquiesce. 

Her stomach muscles tightened, instinctively sensing danger.  Not physical, even though she’d bet muscle, not padding, filled out that tailored gray suit.  No, he prompted more of a mental gathering.  He was one of those men like her ex-husband.  An alpha wolf.  Lean and strong with features chipped from marble, he wore an animal’s five o’clock shadow and a feral smile.  She knew better than to go there again, and certainly not today when she needed to prepare herself for a showdown with the former wolf tomorrow, but something made her lips tingle to invite.

She licked them to buy herself time.

“You have the only empty chair.”  His gaze followed the wetting of her lips, his own mouth twitching as though amused.  His lips, cleanly defined, were more expressive than the rest of his impassive face.  “Am I taking another man’s seat?”

“No, but–”  She glanced around, catching several women at nearby tables watching them.  Angelique flushed, wondering if they read her wariness and weakness.  He was right, however.  The lounge was past capacity.  And he clutched a similar voucher to the one she’d been given when she’d checked in only to learn her room wasn’t ready.  Apparently he was a weary traveler like her, forced to kill time.
 
“I didn’t mean to be rude.”  She flicked a nervous hand at the empty chair.  “I’ve never sat alone in a bar.  I wasn’t sure how to react to a man approaching me.”
 
He set a briefcase on the floor and took off his suitcoat, hanging it over the back of the chair.  A dove gray shirt struggled to contain his wide shoulders, powerful chest, and firm biceps.  As he sat, he snagged the attention of a female server hurrying past.

“Scotch, neat,” he said and possibly slipped her a twenty with his voucher, but was very subtle about it.  He also glanced at Angelique’s half-full glass, obviously prepared to buy her a second if she needed it.
 
Angelique resisted rolling her eyes.  He was so like Raul.
 
Until he lifted his gaze back to hers and knocked the wind out of her again.  When had she ever reacted to Raul like that?
 
“I’m not surprised you avoid sitting alone in bars, but I am surprised no man has ever tried to pick you up,” he said, the comment striking her as risqué and forward, but non-threatening.
 
“I’ve led a sheltered life,” she murmured, dryly thinking he’d never know what an understatement that was.  “I don’t know the protocol of casual flirtations.”
 
“Allow me to educate you.”  He spoke with such calm confidence, and held such a wicked twinkle in his eye, heat poured through her, carrying an electric sting of delight.

Silly reaction.  He was teasing, yet she found herself sinfully intrigued.  Her ex-husband had been her only lover ever, yet she suddenly found herself less than offended by the thought of a one-night-stand.

“May I ask your name?”  She wanted to know who she was having such immoral thoughts about.

“Names are optional,” he replied promptly, answering as though tutoring.

She laughed in surprise, then waited while the server delivered his drink and moved away.  Leaning forward, she said, “All right.  No names.”  Why not?  It saved her the ethical struggle she always suffered when forced to use a name she didn’t truly own.  “Can I ask if you’re married?”

“You can, and I’m not.”  His expression darkened briefly as he sipped.  “That particular institution doesn’t interest me.”  A warning. 

“Nor I,” she said, experiencing a moment of melancholy.  “Not again, at any rate.”  She had planned to spend her evening raking over those still burning coals, yet now embraced the diversion this man offered.  Tucking her book aside, she said, “What about serial killers?”

“You were married to a serial killer?” 

She smiled.  “No.”  Quite the opposite.  Raul had guarded her more closely than her parents had.  “No, I mean I’ve always wondered how a woman knows she’s not hooking up with a serial killer.”

“How does a man?” he asked with a blithe lift of his brows. 

“Seriously,” she said with another soft chuckle.

“Seriously?  Not being a serial killer, I can’t speak for them.”  He drank again then set his glass aside.  “Being a man who considers women the most fascinating creatures God ever made, I can’t imagine leaving so much as a scratch upon one.” 

Protective.  Heaven help her, she so didn’t need another man like him in her life. 

Not that he’d be in her life.  They were ships in the night and not even the kind that would touch.  She might fantasize about sleeping with a stranger, but she’d never do it.  For all her demands she be allowed to live as an independent woman, she tended to let her own fears hold her back as often as everyone else’s did.

“My advice would be not to take foolish chances,” he said quietly.  “If you have misgivings, listen to them.”

Angelique cocked her head in surprise. 

“You looked…apprehensive.”

“With my own thoughts,” she explained, but was caught by the lilt in his speech again.  “What is your accent?  It’s not English.”

“No, and you never insult a Welshman by suggesting such.”

“Lucky I have a good ear then, otherwise I’d be alone and bored once more.”  She turned her bangle to see the watchface set into it, ridiculously hoping the hotel staff had forgotten about her. 

“This is very pretty.”  He took her hand and brushed his thumb beneath the loose silver band.  The heat and movement strummed her nerves, causing a reverberation near her heart.  “A gift from a lover?  I still find it hard to believe there isn’t one somewhere, planning to join you.”

“There isn’t,” she assured him in a near whisper.  “And I wasn’t expecting a stranger to join me either, but for the first time I see the attraction in allowing it.”

He raised his brows, requesting she explain herself, but not relinquishing her hand from the tickling stroke of his fingertips.

“Lengthy histories don’t get in the way,” she continued.  “You don’t even have to be yourself.”  In a bold move, she turned her wrist so he could draw patterns on the sensitive underside, provoking a light shiver to race up her arm.  “I’ve lived under so many restrictions, I don’t even recognize most are self-imposed.”  His touch weakened her.  “It would be very easy to let you seduce me into ignoring all of them.” 

“The woman seduced the man from across the room.”  He cradled her hand in his, tracing the crease between her fingers. 

“I didn’t,” she protested shakily.

“You still are.”  His touch kindled heat up her arm and across her shoulders, into her neck and low in her abdomen. 

“Not intentionally.”  She shook her head, regret following with a kick.  “I may see the attraction, but this isn’t me.”  She tried to draw her hand from his light grip.

He tightened his hold, not hurting, not even insisting.  Requesting.  “Have dinner with me.”  He lifted two fingers and the server appeared at their table immediately.  “We’d both like the special.”

“I’ve already ordered,” Angelique said, smug as she pulled from his touch, feeling only the briefest clasp of protest from his firm, warm hand.  The kitchen had obviously long misplaced her order, but at least he’d know she wasn’t a complete push-over.

“So you will eat with me.”  He gave her a pleased smile, then spoke to the server. “I’ll have what she’s having.”
Very sneaky.  Angelique was more amused than offended, but it was a reminder she could very easily be railroaded by this man.  She had to stay on her toes or she’d be tucked in his bed by nine o’clock.

And kicked out at midnight.

“You must break a lot of hearts in your travels,” she said as the server left.

He paused in lifting his glass of scotch, his brows going up with indignance.  “If you’re suggesting I prey on women traveling alone, you’re mistaken.  I never do this.  I don’t have to.”

A chuckle of admiration bubbled out.  She believed him.  It wasn’t just his regal looks, either, but the full package.  Money, charm, and a confidence that success would come so easily he didn’t even need to pursue it. 

“But you’re doing it now, aren’t you?”  Her words cut very close to issuing a challenge, almost delivering the message she might be interested.  She shouldn’t be, but she was.

* * *

Gray was blessed and cursed with a healthy sexual appetite, but he’d always been able to discipline it.  The hunger burning a hole in his gut at this moment wouldn’t bank, however. 
 
“I don’t intend to prey on you.”  He tried to be offended she would throw such an accusation at him, but he was too turned on by the war of indecision and curiosity evident in her quickening breaths.  Like a trembling fawn she was, and he the stalking puma. 

“I don’t even want to seduce you,” he said.

Her expression fell in disillusionment before she hid the reaction behind reaching for the last of her wine.  He leaned forward to ensure she felt the full thrust of his desire.  “I want you to so overcome by need you can’t do anything but come to my room.”
 
Her breath rushed out through wine-damp lips, color blossoming beneath her creamy skin.  She swallowed and let her hair fall forward, trying to hide her reaction, but he saw arousal bloom in the tiny tremor of her hand as she set down her glass, and in the sharp points newly visible against her sweater.
 
He took a moment to admire her breasts, delicate like the rest of her, but making such pretty curves beneath what had to be downy soft wool.  He longed to fondle and stroke, to find the button of her nipple and watch the color deepen in her throat. 
 
The flush there deepened anyway and he glanced up to see she’d noted where his attention had strayed.  Satisfaction pulled in his groin.  He wasn’t the only one overcome by this insanely strong craving.
 
He wondered, however, if her reaction had its roots in the forbidden nature of what he offered.  If he insisted on her name, would he break the spell?  If he gave her his name and she recognized it, would it influence her willingness to sleep with him? 
 
“What brings you here?” he asked instead.
 
“To this hotel?  It’s on the approved list,” she said with mild cynicism.  “The service is usually better, but I still like it.  You?”
 
“I meant what brings you to New York, but now you’ve piqued my curiosity.” A familiar and growing need to know nagged at him.  “I booked in here because I thought my parents might have stayed here once.  Do you stay here often?  How well do you know the staff?”
 
“Not well.”  She dropped her gaze, prompting a suspicion she was lying, but then she lifted an expression filled with an inquisitiveness of her own, mouth soft, lashes low.  “You don’t strike me as a man influenced by sentiment.  When were they here?  Their honeymoon?”
 
“Something like that,” he drawled, sorry he’d brought it up.  “It doesn’t matter.  How long are you in New York?”
 
“I fly out tomorrow.” 
 
So did he and it shouldn’t disappoint him they only had tonight.  He wasn’t shopping for permanent companionship.  No, his frustration stemmed from concern he wouldn’t win her in the short time they had, but the way she considered him, inventorying his physique and quietly swallowing, told him he only had to keep a firm hold on his patience and the ‘if’ wouldn’t be a problem.  ‘When’ and ‘where’ would be the question.
 
It wasn’t easy to give her the time and space she needed.  He wanted her now.  Fortunately, their meals arrived.  He kept himself focused by eying the halibut steak. 
 
“You don’t care for fish,” she guessed. 
 
“Too much of it as a child and poorly prepared, but I’ll manage this.” 

“Why didn’t you ask what I was having?”
 
“I still would have ordered it.”  He smiled at her naïve frown.  “I intend to kiss you later and want our breath to match.”

Her lips parted in that lovely, shocked way and he wondered if he’d overplayed his hand.  But she didn’t protest, only blushed and picked up her fork.

He took it as permission to take his kiss later and anticipation ignited his blood.

They ate in silence, sipping the wine he’d ordered.  The fish was pleasingly light and mild, tasting more of herbs and lemon, not that he tasted much.  He doubted she did either.  They were both attuned more closely to the other, finishing at the same time as though choreographed to complete this ritual and move to the next.  All the while, he watched the flicker of indecision in her expression.

Now what? her dilated pupils seemed to ask when the server took their plates and freshened their drinks.

“If there was music, we could dance,” he said, rolling the stem of his wineglass. 

“You like to dance?”

“I want to hold you.”  He wanted to feel her heat from chest to thighs, wanted to smell her hair and taste the skin at her nape and temple and at the corner of her mouth.

She shook her head, more dazed than negating.  “I don’t want to be guilty of leading you on.”

“No?” he asked with some skepticism.  Her every look invited.  “What about failing to fulfill yourself?  Do you want to bow to your self-imposed restrictions?”

“This isn’t a piece of chocolate cake I’m dithering over,” she muttered.

He liked that dry sense of humor of hers, liked even more the way her brow puckered, telling him he’d hit home with the remark. 

“I need to purchase something from the gift shop,” he told her, deliberately letting her know the time for dithering was coming to an end. 

Her vague frown at what must have seemed a change of topic quickly cleared to one of realization.  “You take a lot for granted.”

“I like to be prepared.”  He stood and had to grit his teeth against drawing her to her feet, perhaps even slinging her over his shoulder.  He’d been sincere when he’d told her he wanted her desire for him to make refusing him impossible.  He didn’t coerce women, but he damned well wanted this one.

“I’ll settle the bill on my way out.  You’re finished, aren’t you?  The crowd at the front desk has thinned.  I’m sure our rooms are ready.”

* * *
 
Angelique knew she was being handled with all the arrogance that had driven her crazy her entire life, yet she had no choice but to leave the lounge and ask after her room.  People were waiting for her table and she had no desire to stay down here.
 
She had no desire to go to a stranger’s room, either.
 
Liar, a voice inside her chided.
 
As she collected her room key, then her rolling suitcase from the concierge, her knees trembled and her heart stuttered.  Excitement. 
Anticipation.  Yet the stranger was lost in the crowd, perhaps casting for another playmate while he purchased his condoms.  She was sure that’s what he’d meant when he’d said he needed to visit the gift shop. 
 
She was also reasonably sure that if he wasn’t prepared for company, he had been telling the truth about never picking up women.  That shouldn’t make keeping company with him seem rational, but it did.
 
Obviously she was losing her mind.
 
Halfway to the elevator, a hand covered hers on the suitcase grip.
 
She gasped, fingers clenching more tightly over the laptop strap hanging off her shoulder, her fear quickly quelled as she recognized him–the nameless man who wanted her to come to his room. 
 
“You startled me.”  And unsettled her.  “Listen, I don’t think–”
 
“We’re just walking to the elevators,” he assured her, his tone good-natured but his eyes flinty. 
 
“Okay–wait.  This isn’t the elevators.”  Her heart tripped as he steered her into the alcove where the pay telephones hung.  A man stood at one, but she barely saw him as her stunned hold on her suitcase dragged her into the deepest corner of the alcove. 

She found herself spun so her back pressed to the wall.  Her dinner companion dropped his briefcase and arched his arm to frame her head, hiding her from prying eyes before he dipped to take possession of her mouth.  Hot and firm, tasting of wine, his lips settled over hers, his tongue flicking to part and invade.
 
She groaned, surprised yet not.  Alarmed by the immovable firmness of him, then enticed by his solid heat to stroke her hand from his chest to his shoulder, behind his neck and into his short hair.  Ignoring the signals that warned she was being easy, she encouraged him with the press of her fingers to deepen the kiss.  At the same time, she let go of her suitcase with the other hand and hooked it in his belt to draw him closer.  Sweet Lord, it had been way too long since she’d been with a man.
 
Sliding his own free hand from her waist to bump beneath the weight of her laptop where it hung against her hip, he splayed his fingers on her backside, arching her hips into his, holding her tight to the stiff arousal pressing from his groin.  His breath hissed as he drew on her lips, molding and spearing with his tongue, kindling such a sizzle of need in her loins she had to break away and turn her head to gasp for breath.
 
He hung over her a moment, his breath heavy against her cheek before he straightened.
 
“Why did you do that?” she asked on a pant, thinking ’stupid question.’  They’d both wanted it.
 
“So you won’t say ‘no’ when we reach the elevators.”
 
“I can’t help laughing at your audacity,” she said, but wasn’t even smiling.  She hated buckling to being a Good Girl, but she had to look herself in the eye tomorrow.  She had to look her ex-husband in the eye.  “You’ve made me feel very desirable and I’m grateful, but I can’t.  If it’s meant to be, we’ll meet again and I’ll rethink it, all right?”
 
His lips flattened to a hard line and his cheek ticked in disparagement.  “I don’t believe in fate.  Nothing is ‘meant to be.’”  He picked up the handle of her suitcase.
 
Strangely disappointed, Angelique hugged her laptop as she followed him around the corner to the bank of elevators.  She wasn’t entirely pleased with leaving the opportunity for romance–maybe even love?–up to fate either, but this wasn’t anything more profound than mutual pleasure.  The whole attraction here sprang from the knowledge they weren’t expecting to see each other again.  Not to mention if she felt this glum leaving him after an impromptu dinner date, she could only imagine the desolation she’d experience if they shared something intimate.  ‘No’ was the only answer she could give him right now.  That, and–
 
“Goodbye.”  She took her suitcase as she muscled into the crowds waiting for the doors to open.  Her lips tasted of him and her chin stung where his whiskers had scraped.

He stood tall and silent, having become remote in the minute since their kiss. 

“Thank you for dinner,” she added, longing for another sign of interest.
 
His gaze flickered across the crowd surrounding them, impatient with their audience.  He settled for a nod. 

Doors opened in front of her and she blindly stepped in, glancing back to see his jaw clench as he let her go.
 
Stupid, she berated herself as the doors closed him out.  She should have at least given him her safe name.  He might have called. 
 
And what?  She had ground and turned decisions like this so many times they gleamed.  She couldn’t have a relationship with a man if she intended to lie to him about her background.  Besides, she didn’t want a man like him in her life.  They were tyrants.  Her independence had been hard won and she intended to keep it.
 
The elevator climbed and stopped, climbed and stopped, thinning the crowd within.  Finally it reached her floor and she stepped out–only to see a familiar face step from the elevator opposite.  The grimness in his expression lightened to discovery, then locked into something more untamed and predatory.
 
Her entire body flushed with heat, prickly and restless as the elevators closed, leaving them alone.
 
“Apparently it was meant to be,” he drawled.
 
“How did you arrange for us to both be on this floor?”  She narrowed her eyes.
 
“I didn’t.  Getting my own suite was a challenge.  But if you want a suite, this is the floor.”  He took her suitcase handle again and started down the hall.

She followed more slowly, wondering how he knew which way to find her room.  “That’s not mine,” she said when he paused.

“No, it’s mine.”  He tucked his briefcase under his arm and skimmed his keycard to open the door.  “See?  They delivered my luggage.  Come in.”  He held open the door, revealing a lounge in shades of green and gold, lit by a single lamp.

Her pulse thickened and throbbed while her feet itched to follow orders.

The ring of her cellphone saved her.  She’d blissfully not heard it with all the noise downstairs, but recognized her mother’s ringtone.

“I’m one of those people rudely attached to their phone.  I’ll have to respond.”  Otherwise her mother would send out the National Guard.  She’d have heard by now that Angelique had declined to advise Raul she was coming.  Since that meant she was staying at his hotel not his apartment, her mother would imagine the worst if Angelique didn’t check in.

“Take your time.”  Her companion pulled her suitcase inside and parked it beside a masculine one with an exclusive designer label. 
Angelique stepped forward to keep the door open, ignoring the phone that continued its muffled song from inside her laptop case. 

“I have to shave anyway,” he said over the tinny music.  His brows pulled together as he came back to her and cradled her jaw, his thumb grazing just below the place on her chin that still felt raw.  “I’m sorry for that.”

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, barely breathing.

He paused in lowering his head to kiss her.  “No?” 

She caught her breath, parting her lips in anticipation of a persuasive argument, but he only drew back. 

“I won’t force you.”  Without another word he walked away, taking his suitcase through double doors that likely took him to the bedroom.  Evil man.  He had to know she’d have welcomed another kiss.  He was telling her she’d have to chase it.

Angelique stepped forward to retrieve her suitcase.  The door swung closed behind her with a final-sounding clunk.  Her cellphone sang again while water began running beyond the doors to the bedroom.

The second call went to voicemail before she fumbled the phone from her laptop case and opened it.  Nine calls: five from her mother, three from Raul, one from her father.  So aggravating. 

She texted one message to all of them:  IN MY ROOM AND SLEEPING.  Not entirely true, but hopefully it would keep them off her back until tomorrow.  Everyone was so convinced they knew what was best for her.  Meanwhile, she knew what she wanted, but was too afraid to take it.

The shower came on as she freed her own keycard, readying it so she could duck quickly across the hall to her room.
 
She hesitated.  Warmth poured over her as she imagined the stranger undressing and stepping under the steaming water.  Closing her eyes, visualizing him naked and wet, all sinew and muscle, lit a raging fire inside her.  Without conscious volition, she found herself hugging her arms to her aching breasts, clenching against the empty ache in her loins.  She wanted to give in, wanted to go to him, but she couldn’t.  It wasn’t her.
 
The clean, humid scent of shaving-lotion crept toward her, along with something more musky and masculine.  Him. 

She opened her eyes and sucked in a startled breath when she found him leaning in the space of the open double doors.  A towel covered his hips, but the rest of him was–oh, man.  No waxing for him.  A natural tree of life pattern decorated the tanned muscles of his chest and abdomen, the trunk set against a well-defined six-pack, the roots hidden beneath the edge of the towel.  Everything else, however, from collarbone to feet, was dark, male, and unashamedly naked. 
 
“Join me,” he said.