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‘Sit down,’ Solo commanded coldly.
She was glad to oblige, as her legs were shaking. ‘Thank you, Mr Maffeiano,’ she murmured politely, and was aware of him resuming his seat at the opposite side of the desk.
‘Mr Maffeiano,’ he drawled mockingly. Ice-grey eyes cut like a laser into hers, then slowly swept over her slender body with a frigid disdain that even now, after so many years had the power to make her cringe. It was the exact same look he had given her when he had caught her kissing Simon, as though she was beneath contempt.
‘Surely you and I are on first-name terms at least, Penny?’
She blushed even redder. ‘Yes, of course, Solo,’ she muttered, her tongue sticking to the roof of her dry mouth.
She was behaving like a fool. She was no longer a naive young girl, with a head full of romantic ideals of love and marriage, an easy conquest for a ruthless, sophisticated man of the world like Solo. She should be thanking her lucky stars that she had seen through the devil in time, instead of sitting here, trembling and blushing like a schoolgirl.
‘Well, let’s get down to business—I haven’t much time to spare.’ His deep voice was curt. ‘I have a luncheon engagement at one.’
Warily she watched him as he shoved his chair back a little, and flung one arm casually over the back. Nervously she straightened the hem of her skirt over her knees.
His grey eyes followed the movement of her hands and narrowed to linger on her legs, and the charged sexuality of the knowing look he swept slowly over her body made heat surge in her face, and, to her shame, another more intimate place. The shockingly helpless flare of response made her press her knees together, her body became taut, and she wanted to curl up and hide.
His expressive mouth twisted in a cynical smile. ‘Still as demure as ever, I see.’ Solo had a vivid image of the lady in red last night and wanted to laugh out loud at the image Penny presented today in the black suit, the conservative court shoes, and the hair scraped back. Who did she think she was fooling? Certainly not him…
Appalled at her own weakness, Penny murmured, ‘Yes,’ as she stiffened her shoulders, not knowing what else to say. Simply being in the same room with Solo again had a disastrous effect on her mental powers. One look at him and every sensible thought vanished from her head, and she knew she needed all her wits about her to discuss business with the man.
He had been thirty-four when she’d first met him, and well aware of his impact on the female of the species. Suave and devastatingly attractive, he could charm the birds right out of the trees. His deep, melodious voice tinged with a hint of sensuality had promised untold delight, with perhaps just a touch of danger. Now as she looked up into his cold eyes all she saw was danger…
Almost four years had left their mark. His curly hair was ruthlessly swept back from his broad brow. There was harshness about the firmly chiselled features, a ruthlessness in the grey eyes that met her own that said he was a man in firm control of himself and all those around him. A man to be respected for his immense power and wealth, but also a man to be feared.
‘If you say so.’ His gaze moved with leisurely insolence over her face, and lower to the firm swell of her breasts against the soft cotton of her blouse. ‘It has been a long time but you haven’t changed at all, Penelope.’
Penny’s body responded with another sudden rush of heat that horrified her. Slender fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms until it hurt, trying to distract her traitorous body with pain. What a choice! she thought dryly, and the sheer stupidity of injuring herself enabled her to relax her grip.
‘Neither have you, Solo,’ she said stiffly, hoping she sounded sophisticated and, praying her voice would not wobble, she added, ‘And I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘Take it any way you like,’ he drawled. ‘But back to business. What exactly do you want?’ One dark brow arched enquiringly.
‘Well. I…you… Mr Simpson said…’ she stammered to a halt.
Solo rose slowly to his feet and in a few lithe strides was around the desk and towering over her. ‘You seem a little nervous. Shall we start again? After all, we were close friends once.’ Holding out his hand, he added, ‘Good to see you, Penny.’
Penny looked at his hand as if it were a snake that might bite. She glanced up into his eyes and saw the mocking amusement in their silvery depths. The swine was laughing at her.
‘Yes, of course.’ she said firmly and placed her hand in his. His hand squeezed hers, sending a prickling sensation scooting up her arm.
Instinctively Penny tensed, and lowered her eyes from his knowing gaze. Her head was telling her to get out of there as quickly as possible, while her traitorous heart skipped a beat as the hand that gripped hers tightened fractionally, before he set her free.
Solo looked at her lowered head. ‘You have changed, after all,’ he drawled mockingly. ‘At one time you were not afraid to face me.’
Pride alone made her tip back her head and look up. ‘I’m not now,’ she denied curtly. ‘I’m just surprised you wanted to see me, instead of Mr Simpson, my lawyer, after the way we parted,’ she said with blunt honesty.
‘Some you win, some you lose.’ One shoulder elevated in a shrug.
Penny’s eyes widened in surprise on his dark, inscrutable face. He was as good as admitting it had all been a game to him four years ago, and she, poor fool that she was, had felt guilty over the blunt way she had dismissed him. The anger that had been simmering inside her ever since Mr Simpson had told her the news yesterday came bubbling to the surface.
‘But you never lose, do you, Solo?’ she said hotly. ‘What I want to know is how the hell you conned my father into selling you half of Haversham Park.’
His silver-grey eyes hardened perceptibly, his handsome face an expressionless mask. ‘Be very careful of throwing unfounded accusations around. I allow no one to cast a slur on my integrity without taking legal action, and, given the mess you are in at the moment, bankruptcy would be the result.’
‘I’m not far from it anyway,’ she snapped back bitterly, recalling the inheritance tax, and it was enough to make her clamp down on her anger. Insulting the man was not going to help her situation. She needed Solo’s agreement, either to buy her out or to sell the house to someone else.
She had overreacted. Shock at seeing him had churned up emotions she had thought she had successfully buried. Solo Maffeiano might still have the charisma, the blatant sexuality that had the power to awaken old familiar feelings inside her. But she was older and wiser now, and knew it wasn’t love, just lust, and easily denied. She only had to remember the way he had tried to manipulate her feelings for the sake of the house.
