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act—to put her shawl on for her like that. A man like Darian Wildman would be aware of that. Talk to him, she told herself. This is your opportunity!
    ‘Do you…do you often go on shoots like this?’ she ventured.
    The lips curved into a cool smile. ‘Is that a take on the “do you come here often” line?’ he mocked.
    At that moment Lara hated him for making her feel so unoriginal, but she didn’t show it, shrugging her shoulders instead. ‘Don’t answer if you don’t want to,’ she murmured. ‘I’d hate to think I was straying into unprotected waters!’
    He laughed. This was better. He liked her spiky better than he liked her soft. Softness made women vulnerable, and vulnerable women weren’t equals. They got hurt, and then they made you feel bad because of it. ‘Was I being rude?’ he mused.
    ‘Yes.’
    He raised his eyebrows fractionally, taken aback by her blunt reply. ‘The answer to your question is no—but then I rarely conduct advertising campaigns.’
    ‘So why this one?’
    He wasn’t about to start telling her about his plan to float Wildman on the stockmarket—she, like the rest of the world, would find out about it soon enough. ‘Because I want the name Wildman to be synonymous with mobile phone technology.’
    ‘You mean it isn’t already?’ she teased. ‘Shame on you!’
    He allowed his mouth to curve into a small smile. ‘I know. Shocking, isn’t it?’ he questioned gravely.
    ‘Utterly,’ she agreed, realising that he was flirting with her and that she was flirting right back.
    Their eyes met and he regarded her thoughtfully. He wanted to take her out to dinner, he realised, not exchange snatches of conversation while the crew ran around, shout-ing and disrupting them. And just then, as if echoing his thoughts, someone shouted her name.
    He frowned. ‘Sounds like you’re needed,’ he observed.
    ‘Sounds that way.’ She hugged the shawl tightly around her as the stylist beckoned, hoping that she didn’t sound reluctant to leave. ‘Excuse me,’ she murmured, glad to get away because nothing seemed to be going according to plan—although when she stopped to think about it what plan had she actually made, other than to somehow get to meet him? And now that she had managed to do that, all she could do was fantasise about his golden eyes and his lean, hard body. It just wasn’t good enough.
    Darian watched while the stylist fussed around with Lara’s hair and then the photographer moved over, whipped the wrap away and began to coax her into position, prowling around in front of her, crooning directions.
    ‘That’s right, baby—smile! Not too much—just a kind of cool, thoughtful smile, as if you’re deciding whether to dump your lover or not!’
    Lara smiled.
    ‘That’s good! Now half close your eyes—as if you’re trying to drive him wild with jealousy! You’re thinking of another man—and you want him more!’
    Lara did as she was told, her eyelashes fluttering down, finding it remarkably easy, picturing golden eyes and tawny skin and a dark, burnished head of royal descent…
    She snapped her eyes open, startled as the bright flash exploded, staring into the eyes of the man who was fantasy and yet real, and for a moment the rest of the world receded.
    Darian stared back at her, and for the first time in his life he recognised the intrusiveness of the camera and despised the intimacy it created between photographer and subject. For a moment there she had looked so sexually excited that it might almost have been for real. His mouth tightened. What a way to earn a living, he thought in sudden disgust. Yet it was what he wanted, wasn’t it?
    No. It was what his company wanted. And this was an assignment, he reminded himself. A professional assignment. He hadn’t been introduced to her at a party—maybe if he had it might be different. Instead, he had run across her in the course of work, and he kept the line between work and pleasure strictly