In the Market for Love Read online

  IN THE MARKET FOR LOVE

  By Nina Blake

  Copyright© Nina Blake 2013

  All rights reserved

  Chapter one

  Chapter two

  Chapter three

  Chapter four

  Chapter five

  Chapter six

  Chapter seven

  Chapter eight

  Chapter nine

  Chapter ten

  Chapter eleven

  Chapter twelve

  Chapter thirteen

  Chapter fourteen

  Chapter fifteen

  Epilogue

  Chapter one

  “What do you think you’re doing? Can’t you read?”

  Her car door was already open so Rachel Williams slid out and closed it. Slightly disoriented in the dim basement car park, she took a moment to get her bearings as she wondered if that voice and those abrupt words were directed at her.

  Standing in front of her, silhouetted by the headlights of his car, the imposing figure of a tall broad shouldered man towered over her petite form.

  Where had he come from? Why was his Porsche blocking her way?

  “Just a minute.” His words hung in the cool air as he leaned into his vehicle to switch off his headlights before slowly walking back towards her.

  “Excuse me.” He pointed at Rachel’s vehicle. “You’ll have to move your car.”

  “I don’t think so,” she replied. “I have a meeting in this building and I was told I could–”

  “Well, that’s my parking spot and you can’t park in it.”

  Now that he’d approached her, his voice softened to become rich and mellifluous, engulfing her with its dense tones. She should have been offended but there was something about his voice that got to her.

  She peered up to meet his dark gaze. He flicked his eyes away and ran them along the length of her red Ford Laser. Although an older model, it was clean and well presented but Rachel sensed this would mean nothing to a man who drove an expensive, imported sports car.

  Driving in Sydney was so difficult it had taken her longer than expected to get across town for her meeting. She couldn’t be late, not after two years hard work setting up the campaign. Yet that would almost certainly be the case if she had to move her car and navigate an unfamiliar car park.

  People with flash cars and money always believed they deserved priority. She’d met this kind of man before and didn’t appreciate the derisive look he’d given her perfectly respectable vehicle.

  “Sorry if my old heap is taking up the space of your expensive car,” she said.

  He took a small step backwards. She sensed he didn’t wish to make her feel nervous, yet he appeared to take the opportunity to better consider her, his eyes skimming the length of her figure. Detecting the hint of a suggestive smile forming on his lips, Rachel’s eyes narrowed as she stepped towards him.

  He raised his hands. “I wasn’t insulting your car. I only asked you to move it.”

  She tossed her dark wavy hair behind her shoulders, pushing a few stray tendrils behind her ears. She was going to face him head on.

  Clearly this man thought his needs and business priorities were much more important than hers. He probably had stocks and shares to sell and deals to close. She was going to be late but that wasn’t his problem for he was more concerned with ordering her around.

  He was every bit as audacious as her husband had been all those years ago when he’d put his needs, or desires, ahead of hers. So convincing. So confident. She wasn’t going to be taken in again.

  Rachel planted her hands on her hips. “Move my car. And why should I do that? Is this space earmarked for luxury vehicles? Because I don’t see a sign anywhere.”

  “What about that one over there?”

  Her mouth fell open as she looked up at the reserved sign painted on the wall in front of her car. She hadn’t intended on stealing anyone’s parking space but that’s exactly what she’d done.

  “Sorry, I didn’t realise…”

  “Didn’t realise you’d get caught,” he said, a teasing tone in his voice.

  “No, I didn’t see the sign. It’s in such a dark corner.”

  Rachel tilted her jaw to better consider him, taking in the burnt almond eyes, slim contoured face and chiselled jaw. His mouth was lush and sensual unlike the rest of his features which were commandingly masculine. His clothes, a simple crew neck shirt with a well cut grey jacket and flat fronted pants, were barely a shade lighter than his glossy raven black hair. His style was elegant and simple but unforgiving, just like his personality.

  He might be handsome but she wasn’t going to be taken in by it. Good looking men were almost always more trouble than they were worth. It didn’t give him the right to be so overbearing over a simple, honest mistake.

  “Do you have any idea how intimidating this is for a woman?” she asked. “Being accosted in a car park like this?”

  “I’m very sorry. The last thing I want is to intimidate you.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe that? You’re not doing a very good job of convincing me,” she said.

  “Look, I only wanted you to shift your car and then–”

  “And I suppose the word ‘please’ didn’t occur to you, Mr…” She struggled to find the right words. “Mr Porsche!”

  His lips curled to an amused smile. “Actually, I thought I’d leave you to it and take the visitor’s spot for myself.”

  Rachel glared at him. “Thank you.” The words sounded more like a reprimand.

  He slid into the low leather seat of the Porsche, turning to catch her eye as he closed the door and lowered the electric window. He must be taunting her with that soft sensual smile.

  Since her car door was already closed, she’d missed the opportunity to slam it shut. Instead she held his gaze as she pressed the remote locking button on her key ring with a vengeance, wishing she could demonstrate her power with a more decisive action.

  She strutted away, her heels clicking on the concrete pavement. The sooner she got away from this man, the better.

  * * *

  Jake Austin stood by his car.

  “Damn it,” he muttered.

  Grabbing his briefcase, he slammed the door of his Porsche shut and ran the length of the car park until he reached the lift.

  It was too late. She was gone.

  This was a big building and she could be anywhere. There were probably fifty other businesses apart from his in the tower. How could he have let her leave without getting her phone number or at least her name?

  He paced the bare pavement in front of the closed lift doors and wondered how it was possible for a woman to have swept him into such a tempest so quickly. She was certainly a blast of fresh air. In his line of work he met new people all the time but it had been a long time since he’d met someone with such energy and vitality.

  He shook his head. The woman was a tornado.

  “Come on.” Jake slammed his fist into the lift button before leaning against the masonry wall, his mind deep in thought. Or was it turmoil?

  It wasn’t just his intellect this woman had excited. Closing his eyes, he pictured the delicate features of her face, the prominent cheekbones, the pale prepossessing eyes framed by lush dark lashes, so striking against her smooth creamy skin.

  He’d liked what he’d seen. Her pink jacket, nipped in at the waist, outlined her slender figure and the matching skirt flattered her shapely hips and long toned thighs. Clearly the outfit highlighted her femininity but then again that would be difficult to hide.

  A surge of electricity charged deep within him. Did she have any idea of the effect she’d had? Had she felt even a fraction of what he had?

  There was
nowhere else for him to go but back to the office. He punched the lift button again.

  “How could I have let her get away?” he muttered.

  He had been abrupt at first when he’d shouted across the car park but he hadn’t seen her, hadn’t even considered she might be a woman let alone one with such vitality. So full of spark and energy, she gave as good as she got. Now there was a woman who wouldn’t back down.

  He should slow down and get a grip. It wasn’t as though he was seventeen any more. He was thirty-seven years old yet he was acting like a love struck schoolboy. What had this woman done to him?

  She’d poked fun at his car too. So many women, and men for that matter, were impressed by wealth, a big house, an expensive car.

  Not this woman. She sneered at his car. Called him Mr Porsche.

  There was so much in Jake’s 1970s silver Porsche 911 Turbo that reflected his personality that normally he would have taken offence at such a comment. There were more expensive cars on the market but with a hint of retro funk mixed with the unmistakable Porsche styling, there was no vehicle which suited him better.

  He could have lived comfortably from his family’s wealth but he was driven by the need to be successful in his own right. He’d inherited his father’s business acumen and combined this with his own creative streak to thrive in the cutthroat world of advertising. And the first thing he’d done all those years ago with his initial business success was buy that car.

  It was a shame she thought he’d looked down on her car for that was certainly not his intention. He was only looking at it because it was in his spot. And how glad he was of that.

  Only one woman had ever made him feel this way before. Only one woman had excited that spark in him, played and sparred with him as an equal. Yet that relationship had not ended well. But this was a different woman.

  Then it hit him. He couldn’t let her get away. Striding towards her red Laser, he decided the very least he could do was leave a note on her car.

  Jake pictured her mouth falling open in shock, her plump lips parting with surprise when she found the missive. Would she take it seriously? Did she have an inkling of the tumult she’d raised in him? Surely she wouldn’t dismiss him so soon and screw up the note and toss it aside.

  Placing his briefcase on the bonnet of her car, he found a pen easily but struggled to find a piece of paper. The sight of his leather bound diary reminded him of the meeting for which he was almost certainly late. Another tedious request for pro bono work. It’d have to wait.

  Ripping a blank sheet of paper from his diary, he leaned against the car only to find himself tormented all over again. He had to take a few moments to consider what on earth he should write. He worked in advertising so this should have been easy for him but it wasn’t.

  The woman had spark. That was for sure. He needed to write something with an electricity to match hers. Something to grab her attention and make her want to contact him. A hint of raciness. But not too much…

  * * *

  Alone in the mirrored lift, Rachel took the opportunity to check her hair and make-up, not that she wore much. Expecting to see smudged mascara, dishevelled hair and clothes askew, she stared at her reflection only to find she looked calm and composed.

  How was that possible when her insides had been whisked into such a flurry? Although their encounter had been brief, meeting that man in the basement had unsettled her, sent her into a spin. And none of this fit into her neat, orderly world.

  “For crying out loud…” She shook her head and stared ahead as the lift filled with people at the ground floor.

  What had she been thinking? Why hadn’t she simply moved her car?

  There was something about that man which made her rash and impetuous, as though he’d flicked a switch and released her hidden recklessness. Her passionate side suddenly exploded and she found herself arguing over something as petty as a parking spot, one which wasn’t hers.

  She had no idea what had come over her or how she’d come to act so brashly. Having grown up in a modest but loving family, her parents raised her to be polite and respectful so she was confused at what had kindled her unlikely behaviour.

  She stepped out of the lift, raced to the advertising agency door, then stopped short. Smoothing down her skirt, she sucked in deep breaths of air to compose herself.

  She had to shake that man off. She had a campaign to get up and running.

  As she looked through the agency’s glass door, she saw the receptionist smile, then reach across her desk. The click of the door release followed. Rachel thrust open the door, entered the elegant foyer and introduced herself to the receptionist only to be asked to take a seat beside her colleague who was already waiting.

  Still exhilarated by her encounter in the basement, Rachel was momentarily tempted to relay the story to her young assistant but thought better of it. She wasn’t quite sure what to say, how she would explain her own rather erratic behaviour or describe the man whose parking spot she had inadvertently taken.

  She perched herself on the edge of the sofa, her back to the receptionist. “So Sam, how did you go at the lawyers?”

  “It’s taken care of for now.” Samantha slid to one end of the antique finish leather sofa to make room. “Gosh, and I thought we were running late!”

  Her young colleague pushed a few strands of tousled blond hair behind her ears and explained how she’d have to return to the lawyers’ offices later. Behind her, Rachel heard the swish of a door opening.

  “Excuse me ladies,” a male voice interrupted. “Have you quite finished?”

  The voice was like thick viscous liquid yet there was something familiar about it.

  Rachel took a moment to collect herself. She’d been held up in the car park while Samantha delivered some documents to their company lawyers in the same building. They’d struggled to make it on time only to be asked to wait at reception. Yet this person was speaking to them as if they were naughty schoolgirls caught talking in class.

  This was the second time today she’d been treated abruptly by a man.

  “Sorry, did we keep you waiting?” Rachel rose from the sofa to face the man addressing them. She searched for some sign of emotion in the dark, deep set eyes.

  He must be an excellent actor because he wasn’t giving away anything. As if they hadn’t met before. The man from the car park. He must have entered the offices through a rear corridor.

  Her lips curled to a sedate smile. He may have swept up a storm inside her but she wasn’t going to let it show. Two could play at this game.

  “I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” she said. “I’m Rachel Williams and this is Samantha Webb. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  He returned her smile. “My apologies. I got held up in the car park. It took me a while to find a parking spot.”

  Her pulse quickened at his reference. It was impossible to ruffle this man, yet if he was after a challenge she could certainly provide him with one.

  “Jake Austin.” He shook hands with the two of them. “I’m the managing director here at Agency 66.”

  His authoritative tone left Rachel in no doubt as to who was in charge. He may have reneged his parking spot but that was clearly the full extent of his benevolence.

  Jake then ushered Samantha ahead of them out of the foyer.

  Rachel sensed him sidling closer to her as he closed the reception door behind them. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

  “My friends call me Mr Porsche,” he said quietly in her ear.

  “So you have friends?” she said.

  She didn’t know what to think. Didn’t know what to make of him. He was certainly the kind of man to incite a reaction in any woman. His voice was so deep and overtly masculine it sent a charge through her, one she hadn’t felt for a long time.

  Yet she was aware he was teasing her, playing with her, taking pleasure in her lively responses. And with every interaction she felt something surging inside her like a
little spark beginning to glow. Ready to ignite.

  She had to get her head together. She’d come to the agency for a reason. Time to concentrate on business.

  Jake ushered them into the agency’s boardroom where a wall of floor to ceiling windows with dramatic views of Sydney harbour dominated the room. The life of the harbour with its rippling waters formed a living, moving picture in their midst.

  It was a few moments before Rachel’s eyes swept across the rest of the room and she took in its urban chic. The furniture was simple but elegant, consisting of an enormous maple table surrounded by stylish chairs in polished chrome and soft black leather.

  Designed to be imposing and impressive rather than friendly and comfortable, the room made a statement about the kind of business done by Agency 66. Their work and clientele were clearly at the upper end of the market. Unfortunately, the small pharmaceutical research agency for which Rachel worked was not.

  A good looking man breezed into the room. He had short wavy chestnut coloured hair, clear skin and friendly hazel eyes.

  “Marcus Richards.” He shook hands vigorously with the two women. “Account manager. Lovely to meet you both. I see you’ve been enjoying the view. Magnificent, isn’t it? Glad I haven’t missed anything.”

  Now that was a vivacious entrance. Rachel looked around, deciding which chair to take. She felt a strange sensation come over her as she suddenly felt as if someone were watching her from behind.

  She became conscious of her appearance, wondering if her pencil skirt too closely followed the curve of her bottom. She’d though it respectable but wasn’t so sure now.

  Glancing behind as she slid into a chair, Rachel’s face flushed pink. Jake was staring at her, his lips curling into an appreciative smile. It wasn’t a lurid look, rather he took the opportunity to enjoy what was before him, much as he had earlier on the car park.

  His blatant appreciation of her figure lit a feverish spark inside her and that small flame was glowing. It felt thrilling and she wanted to savour it but she couldn’t let herself feel this way.

  She had a campaign to manage. And she would not be defeated. Not by any man. Not again.