Beguiled: Frost Trilogy 1

By Terri George


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6 mins


Samuel’s smile turns almost impish and his eyes shine mischievously. Well this is a side of him I haven’t seen. ‘There’s someone here who wants to meet you.’ He sounds downright conspiratorial.

My curiosity is piqued. Who’d want to meet me, and why? Stephen would be nothing short of ecstatic if I pick up another client tonight.

Samuel’s gaze darts around the room. ‘Now where is he?’

An unexplained shudder of anticipation shivers through me.


Spying who he’s looking for, Samuel raises a hand, crooking a finger. I follow his line of vision, my gaze coming to land on the man he’s beckoning over and the air leaves my body in a rush.

Martin and the flings at Uni had been just boys in comparison to the male who’s approaching.

This is a Man. With a capital Muh.


I’m stunned. I think my heart actually stops beating for a couple of seconds. Oh my God he’s… Beautiful.

But his face is still strongly masculine. His dark blonde hair is swept back from his brow, falling over his collar, it’s length a hint of defiance; a rebellious bad-boy edge at odds with his otherwise well-groomed, urbane appearance.

His jacket open, one hand in his trouser pocket he saunters over; his body moving with an easy, loose-limbed grace. A walk that’s simultaneously relaxed yet supremely confident.

And damned sexy.

His body is made for Armani.

Giorgio himself would weep at the sight of his creation adorning such perfection; the sleek navy Tuxedo doing nothing to hide the hard muscular physique beneath the exquisite tailoring. He’s well built, but not bulky; just sinewy, powerful and strong.

I wonder at the broad chest beneath the crisp white shirt; what it would be like to run my hands over those pecs... Down those abs...

I bet he’s ripped.

I have to tilt my head back as he gets closer to maintain eye contact. He’s tall. Samuel is six foot, but he’s a good three, maybe four inches taller.

And he’s here.

Touching distance away.

And I can’t breathe.

He holds my gaze even as Samuel introduces me to him. I’m captivated by his eyes. Two pools of sapphire blue so deep I could drown in them. I just want to dive right in.

‘Mia, this is Nicholas Frost. One of The Project’s patrons.’

Okay, I know I should say something here, but now he’s up close I just... can’t. His masculine beauty has me rendered speechless, gawping like an idiot; my body feeling things I haven’t felt in an age. Oh who am I kidding? I’ve never felt this before. Is this what love at first sight feels like?

Love? my inner hussy scoffs. Lust at first sight more like.

His penetrating stare is stirring something deep within me. It’s unsettling and I wrench my gaze from his only to have it rest on his mouth. It doesn’t help.

Now I’m wondering what it would be like to kiss that mouth, to have that mouth on me. He licks his lips and I’m lost in a private fantasy that involves that tongue expertly licking every inch of my naked body.

The corners of his highly kissable mouth twitch ever so slightly, almost as if he can read my mind as he extends a hand.

Okay, now you’re supposed to offer yours. What is wrong with you? A pretty face and you go to pieces.

I silently gasp as he closes his hand around mine, igniting a flame that licks up my arm, the heat spreading rapidly through my body discharging a burst of liquid fire on a direct trajectory to my groin.

His eyes widen a little in shock. He felt it too then; it wasn’t just me.

Something shifts in him, momentarily revealing the depths of his true nature concealed beneath the civilised urbanity of his suit. Something untamed, carnal, animal. And all I can think about is sex: sweat-ridden, mind-altering, body-weakening sex. With him.

My body betrays me; trembling under the heat of his free hand on my bare skin as he wraps it around my shoulder. The intoxicating scent of his cologne – a blend of cool spices and smoky woodiness with warm low notes of vanilla, invades my senses as he leans in.

He’s going to kiss me. That’s a bit bloody forward.

He brushes my cheek with a barely-there kiss, his breath warming my face as an almost inaudible moan escapes his mouth; the unequivocal sexual nature of the sound sending a shockwave bumping down my spine.

‘Mia,’ he whispers my name softly in my ear, all breathy and sensual, accentuating the syllables: My Ahh. Yet there’s an underlying urgency in his voice and I’m off again; fantasising all sorts of scenarios where he’s saying my name... In bed... In the shower...

He pulls back, his gaze latching onto mine again.

I suddenly realise he’s still speaking. What did he say? I wasn’t listening. Too busy getting lost in erotic wonderings of what it would be like to feel his strong, hard body against me... On top of me... Inside me…

I mentally shake myself out of my delicious, but highly inappropriate imaginings.

Jesus. Get a grip.

His wife is probably here. I glance at his left hand and clock the absence of a wedding ring, but that’s inconclusive. Any man this good-looking is bound to have been snapped up. Probably by some blonde, willowy, long-legged model type. I hate her already.

‘Mr Frost.’ At last! I speak! Not only that, I manage to return his smile. Although I hope mine is a little more professional than the sexy smirk he’s giving me.

‘Nick,’ he insists. ‘My friends call me Nick. And we are going to be friends Mia. Close friends.’ He emphasises “close”.

I look questioningly into those azure pools. We are? How’s that going to happen? Once the guests go into dinner I’m released from my duties. I’ll collect my belongings from the hotel and be on my way home, travelling across London as you sit enjoying the dinner with the other seven guests at your table.

I feel an inexplicable stab of jealousy at the thought; that they get to spend the evening with this beautiful man while I only get to go home. Alone. We travel in very different social circles. It’s highly unlikely I’ll ever see him again. The realisation leaves me feeling suddenly bereft.

His gaze is riveted to mine and it’s taking everything in me to stop my body buckling under the intensity of his stare.

‘So, Mia. You work for Singular Events.’

‘Yes.’ Samuel just said that.

‘I’ve heard good things about them. Have you worked for them long Mia?’

‘About four months.’

‘And tell me Mia...’ Oh you really must stop saying my name. ‘Do you enjoy your work?’

‘Yes.’ Why is he asking me this? What does he care how long I’ve been doing my job and if I enjoy it? And why is he still holding my hand?

‘You’re very good at it.’ Frost’s eyes smoulder as he tightens his grip on my hand a little. ‘But then I think you’re probably very good at a lot of things.’

Bloody hell.

There’s no mistaking that was a come-on. Okay, we’re way past forward now and into pushing it territory. How do I respond to that? I feel the transparent evidence of my discomfort rising as my cheeks flush embarrassingly. Oh God, what must Samuel think?

A staff member coughs politely at my side and I drag my gaze away from this awesome hunk of male.

‘I’m sorry Miss James, but you’re needed in the kitchen.’

‘Okay, I’ll be right there. Thanks.’

Having delivered his message the staff member leaves and I return my gaze to Frost as he still has a hold of my hand.

He sighs. ‘You have to go.’

Loosening his grip, he traces a path with his middle finger down my palm to my fingertip sending an echoing shiver coursing through my body. ‘We’ll meet again...’

I swallow hard at the unquestionable assuredness of his words. We will? When?

‘Soon,’ he insists; reading my mind.

Turning to Samuel to apologise for having to leave so abruptly; I’m dismayed to see the amused smile playing on his mouth. He obviously knows Frost well and has probably seen him coming on to women before, and seen their reaction to this breathtakingly gorgeous Man. I blush again at being found out.

Thankfully the need for me to attend the kitchen turns out to be a minor problem.

Crisis averted I scan the bar area, ostensibly doing my job checking all is well, but I know I’m looking for one person in particular. My senses prickle. I can feel his presence; like we’re connected by an unbreakable invisible thread winding its way unseen around and between the guests in the crowded room.

I find him and my breath catches in my throat.

Frost is standing alone leaning against the wall, his long legs crossed at the ankle. He’s blatantly staring, his gaze boring into me from twenty feet away. It’s so unnerving. Oh God, I need a drink in the worst way.

I look away, but my gaze is immediately drawn back to him like he has some kind of magnetic pull on me. I’m totally transfixed. The background music and voices around me fade to a low muffled hum, drowned out by the sound of my rapid heartbeat pulsing in my ears. Figures surrounding me blur and all I see is him; the desperate need to grab his hand, drag him to my hotel room and get him naked and inside me, overwhelming.

My gaze focuses on his mouth as it slowly spreads into a half smile that’s so full of knowing. He nods his head slightly in answer to my unspoken desire – can he read my mind?

Face it girl he doesn’t need to be telepathic to know what’s going on in your head, it’s written all over your face! He’s got my mind in a spin and my body in a whirl of longing.

And he knows it.

The chiming ring of something metal tapping a crystal glass snaps me out of my trance and a male voice announces: ‘Ladies and gentlemen. Dinner is served.’

The guests coalesce into a solid crowd making their way into the ballroom shrouding my view of Frost and I exhale the breath I hadn’t even realised I’d been holding.

My reaction to this man has left me shaken and confused. I need to regroup, get a grip on my emotions. Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter I make my escape to the ladies’ loos.

I down the champagne in one, the crystal flute chinking as I set it on the vanity unit. My hand is shaking. My hand? My whole body is trembling. Gripping the edge of the porcelain sink to steady myself, I draw in deep breaths until I feel the pounding of my heart slowing.

How can a man – even one as jaw-droppingly gorgeous as Frost – have such an effect on me?

My subconscious scoffs at my naiveté. Because you’ve just been subjected to the seductive techniques of a Player of the highest order, that’s how. A man doesn’t get that self-assured and skilled in the subtle art of flirtation without plenty of practice. And face it, he’d have had ample opportunity to hone his skills. A man that stunning must have women throwing themselves at him on a daily basis. And you’re clearly no exception, my inner voice sneers with disdain. You couldn’t have been more obvious.

I look at my reflection in the mirror. Well it’s all a moot point now girl. He’ll be finding his seat in the ballroom by now and you’ll never see him again.

My reflection stares back at me. She doesn’t look happy.



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