Nine Months to Claim Her
Auteur
Natalie Anderson
Lezers
17,0K
Hoofdstukken
17
CHAPTER ONE
‘ROSE GOLD? IT’S been for ever!’
Rosanna Gold smiled through gritted teeth, inwardly groaning—yet again—that her parents had thought it clever and cute to name her Rose. It had even been part of their marketing plan for when she took over the family business from her father Red. But it wasn’t clever or cute. It was cringeworthy, even more so given she was never going to take over the company. When she was introduced, people invariably giggled then commented on the fact that her hair was far more carrot than rose gold. She’d heard the same jokes a million times and when she’d finally moved out she’d lengthened her name to Rosanna. But tonight, she was back home. Back to being ‘Rose’. Back to trying to please her parents. Back to being less than either the beauty or treasure her name suggested.
And it turned out that the opening celebration of the latest luxury apartment complex in central Sydney, built by property conglomerate Castle Holdings, was basically a horror of a high-school reunion: ‘Ten Years On’—and it was still terrible.
‘Mae, how lovely to see you.’ Rosanna hoped her inevitable blush would recede quickly—she’d been flushing stop-sign-red all night.
Born and bred Sydney society elite, Mae Wilson had been in the year below Rosanna at school, but she’d always been decades ahead in style. So, of course, she was one of the well-heeled new residents of Kingston Towers. Only the absolute cream of Sydney society could afford one of the ultra-stylish inner-city apartments with their sleek security systems and every convenience imaginable.
‘What brings you here tonight?’ Mae asked.
The surprise in Mae’s tone, and the mere fact that she’d even asked, hammered it home. Rosanna didn’t belong in Kingston Towers. She probably would never have set foot in the place had her mother not begged.
She’d been woken early this morning by an awful call informing her that her parents had been in a car accident and she was needed in Sydney urgently. Freaked out, she’d raced from her town a few hours north, panicking the whole way. Only when she’d arrived at the hospital it was to discover she wasn’t there for a bedside vigil. While her father would be in plaster for the next few weeks, he would recover fully, and fortunately her mother had only bruises... No, it turned out their ‘SOS’ summons had been about this party and how crucial it was that a Gold family member attended. And the only one able to go now was Rosanna.
Her initial relief that they weren’t badly hurt had been washed over by the old frustration of past years. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Her parents’ business had always been the priority in their lives—coming ahead of everything and everyone else, even themselves and their own well-being and certainly Rosanna’s as well. She’d tried to convince her mother that one party didn’t matter. But, apparently, it did.
‘My parents did the fit-out of some of the lounge spaces.’ Rosanna maintained her smile.
For the last two decades her parents’ company, Gold Style, had done the interior design for Castle Holdings properties. But when Hugh Castle had died a year ago things had changed. While they’d all expected Ash, Hugh’s legitimate—albeit wayward—heir to assume control, it had been Leo Castle, Hugh’s illegitimate son, who’d taken over as CEO of the conglomerate. It had been a shock, given Hugh had refused to recognise Leo right till the end. The shocks had kept coming since. A ‘control freak’ was how Rosanna’s mother had described Leo this morning. A ‘workaholic’ who already headed another business in insurance and now ruled Castle Holdings with an iron fist and an acute eye. Apparently he was fiercely driven and uncompromising and in her parents’ view that wasn’t a good thing. Because he’d put Castle Holdings’ interiors contracts out to tender, inviting proposals from her parents’ competitors. Gold Style would no longer automatically secure them—and hadn’t, in fact.
‘Oh, Gold Style.’ Mae nodded dismissively. ‘Of course, I’d forgotten you were connected to them.’
Not just connected, she was their daughter. Their only child. And honestly? Their greatest disappointment.
‘Wear that navy empire line dress,’ her mother had shrilly instructed in amongst her barrage of information this morning. ‘It’s more flattering.’
Because Rosanna’s body needed flattering—as always her pale freckled skin and uneven posture needed to be concealed. Appearances mattered to maintain and build the success of the business and imperfections were not allowed—not speckled skin, or a spine so curved by scoliosis that not even surgery could properly straighten it, at least not to the point of pleasing her perfectionist parents. But while Rosanna had obeyed the instruction to attend the party, she hadn’t been able to wear that particular dress. She’d had only a few things at her parents’ apartment and had opted for a silk black blouse and skirt. Her mother had always preferred Rosanna didn’t wear skirts because the hemlines reflected the unevenness of her waist, but this one was long and hopefully that slight tilt on one side wasn’t noticeable. But even though her outfit fulfilled the covering-up element, it wasn’t really good enough for Kingston Towers society.
She’d let her parents down again and that hurt. That her mother had even asked had made her want to succeed just this once for them. Of course she’d yes, even though parties this fancy, in places this elite, weren’t her forte. She’d always felt shy and awkward. But this morning her mother had been more upset than Rosanna had ever seen her. She knew their company was everything, but she’d wondered if the accident had shaken her mother more than she was admitting. She’d repeatedly insisted that Rosanna attend—someone from the Gold family needed to be ‘seen’ by the CEO himself.
But two hours in and Rosanna had yet to meet Leo Castle. It was her own fault, given she didn’t even know what he looked like. She didn’t bother much with Sydney society nor with social media either. However, she had briefly seen Leo’s half-brother, Ash Castle—the ‘legitimate’ heir who’d rebelled and refused to have anything to do with his late father’s company. That Ash had even been here tonight was a surprise because he’d avoided anything related to Hugh Castle for years. He must have a better relationship with his half-brother than he’d ever had with his father. Even so, Rosanna hadn’t had the confidence to ask Ash to introduce her to Leo because unfortunately Ash Castle was the source of Rosanna’s most mortifying teen moment. While it had been public humiliation of the online kind—and the reason she preferred to live a social-media-free life—the worst had been her parents’ reaction. They’d placed the blame squarely on Rosanna’s uneven shoulders and the impact of their displeasure still weighed on her today. That was why she was here now—still trying to please them for once.
But while Ash had been unusually quiet and courteous, it had been yet another awkward high-school reunion—especially when he’d briefly brought up that cringe thing in their past. She’d only got through it because she’d realised just what hell he’d have been under at the time. But maybe the fact that she’d spoken to him for the first time in a decade would suffice for her parents’ expectations for the evening? He was a Castle, after all.
‘I heard something about you being a university professor now,’ Mae said, drawing her attention back to the present. ‘You always were a brain box.’
Rosanna inwardly groaned again at her parents’ inflated description of her job. When reality wasn’t good enough, they embellished—always over the top. In fact she was a laboratory technician at the school of Biological Sciences at East River University, a couple of hours north of Sydney. As for being a brain box? That was only because she’d spent her life working insanely hard to maintain the grades that were the one thing her parents seemed to be proud of her for. Not that it had ever garnered her any social currency—Mae was one of those people who’d only ever spoken to Rosanna when she’d wanted to borrow her study notes.
‘Not a professor.’ She smiled resolutely. ‘I take some lectures.’
Even that was a stretch. She tutored first-year science students because, according to her boss, she was ‘good at instilling scrupulous understanding of the scientific method’. But the work had become repetitive and frustrating. Yet again she’d not lived up to expectations because she should, at the very least, be a full-time lecturer by now if only she’d lived up to her ‘potential’.
And as she determinedly chatted with Mae, her energy wilted.
‘I’m sorry, I’ve just got to go and talk to...’ Rosanna glanced around the room, hoping to spot someone—anyone ‘...Harry.’
Her excuse to end the current conversation worked again. It had been working well all evening.
Breathing out, Rosanna walked away from the other guests, wondering whether it was too soon to sneak away or if she ought to ‘fly the family flag’ a little longer.
It had been a failed mission from the beginning. She knew her glamorous, party-professional parents had been disappointed in her reserved nature as a child, in her increasingly flawed appearance. They’d been disappointed by her decision not to stay in Sydney and follow them into the family business after ‘all they’d done’, and they’d definitely been disappointed by her inability to secure a society son-in-law of their dreams to lift their profile all the more...
But the fact was, Rosanna had never satisfied anyone’s dreams. Not even her own.
She laughed beneath her breath at her self-piteous moment. She’d been so busy trying to meet the impossible dreams of her parents she’d not stopped to actually dream any of her own. And now? Now she had no clue what it was she wanted.
But Kingston Towers? The whole complex was dreamy. The party was on the penultimate level of the East Tower with stunning views across the city and to the second, slightly taller tower. She’d toured the two apartments open for viewing already, but from here she could glimpse the West Tower penthouse. Was that a hint of a terraced garden? Her curiosity was piqued and temptation stirred. Rosanna couldn’t resist a garden. And it was a showing, after all. Given she was unlikely to ever get the opportunity again, she walked to the central elevators—taking a moment from the horrible party for herself. One elevator opened the second she summoned it and inside she pressed the very top button.
Moments later she arrived at the penthouse. She stepped out, savouring the silence and the sensation of escape. The tranquillity was a welcome contrast to the heavy bass downstairs and the hum of people loudly talking to counter it. The other guests couldn’t yet have realised they could inspect this apartment as well. Rosanna was glad to explore it alone. No more awkward reunions for just a minute.
The glass doors leading out to the terrace were thrown wide open in invitation, so what else was to be done? Outside she breathed deeply, appreciating the scent of summer and the warm breeze. As she’d suspected, the terrace garden was a gorgeous space brimming with verdant vitality. There were cleverly placed trellises covered with foliage and structural plants that provided privacy and shelter around a comfortable seating area. In an instant she felt better. With all the greenery she could almost forget she was in the middle of a large city. Though if she glanced beyond the leaf-woven trellis, the view of the gleaming harbour was incredible. But it was the garden that truly entranced her.
As she explored the deceptively large space the sky began to turn. Small lights hidden amongst the foliage automatically beamed on. It softened the atmosphere and made it even more intimate. To her wonderment, tucked away on the other side of the trellis was a small pool. She knew there was a lane pool on the recreation level for the residents but this was smaller, a place to plunge rather than exhaust oneself with endless laps. The surrounding plants were flowering and had luscious deep green leaves and with the lights it made the place feel like a magical den. A sensation of peace and pleasure washed over her as one plant in particular caught her eye with its contrasting green foliage.
She’d found not just a sanctuary, but a paradise.
Leo Castle sprawled in the large chair in the study, silently watching the uninvited woman wander around his private terrace. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Then again, nor was he. He was supposed to be downstairs talking with the new and prospective owners of the luxury apartments Castle Holdings had just completed. Socialising was his most loathed business task—mainly because it interrupted the actual business of doing business. His phone had been humming in his pocket when he was talking to guests downstairs, vibrating with notification after notification. In the end he couldn’t resist stealing up here to check in because his favourite aspect was the deal—sale and purchase, the constant accumulation of security. He liked to work fast, accurately, viciously, relentlessly. So missing messages when he had a new deal on a knife-edge was not his idea of fun. But since he’d come up here he’d more than caught up. The outstanding deal had just come through. In theory he should now go down and celebrate the lot. In theory he should be the happiest he’d ever been. Because in theory, he finally had everything he’d ever wanted.
For almost thirty years—his entire life—he’d fought to get to this position. Fighting for recognition, for justice...for everything that had been denied him for so long. His name and honour, respect and reputation, fortune...all were finally fully within his control. And nothing mattered to him more than having complete control over his own damned destiny.
Kingston Towers—his first major project as the new CEO of Castle Holdings—was an undeniable success. The man who’d built the company from the ground up, Hugh Castle, had died a year ago. Leo had taken over from the man who’d not only refused to acknowledge Leo’s existence, but done everything possible to deny him his rights. But Leo had no intention of letting that happen for ever. He’d talked to his half-brother, Ash, the ‘rightful’ heir. Ash hadn’t wanted anything to do with their father’s business—he’d have been happy to see it burn. But Leo had been determined to make the company what it should have been and so he and Ash had agreed he’d take the reins. In this last year he’d carved out the cronyism, the favours, the hidden deceitful deals—battling the resentment of the old guard wanting to hold on to their unearned privileges and the pressure to prove himself worthy when he’d been unrecognised for so long. But he’d accomplished what he’d wanted—all while maintaining the success of his own company that he’d built simply to prove he could. He’d worked every minute he’d been awake for years to get here. Hours of stress and toil and sacrifice. And he’d done it. He’d even claimed this jewel at the top of the tower for himself. Yet now he was here he didn’t feel any real satisfaction. He felt...nothing.
Well, not nothing.
Because there was—as always—that acidic burning regret in the pit of his stomach that his mother wasn’t alive to see any of it. She was never to know her honour had been restored, never to feel any peace or security or enjoyment of the rewards...which meant that he couldn’t either. Because it was his fault she couldn’t. Leo rolled his shoulders, unable to dwell on that most painful of wounds.
Maybe he was tired, but he didn’t want to return to his duty downstairs yet. And he didn’t have to, right? Because Ash had made an appearance. Ash, who’d tracked Leo down when they were both angry teens. Rebellious Ash, who’d enabled Leo to prove their shared parentage. Ash, who’d stepped aside and been an ally ever since.
Leo would always owe him. But their bond was built on more than mutual loathing of their father now. There was respect and loyalty. Ash had signalled his support of Leo’s leadership of the company and Leo had done all he could to support Ash’s fiercely independent business in return. It was the one relationship in Leo’s life now that actually worked and Ash was the only family Leo would ever have. Leo hadn’t failed to notice how haunted he’d looked earlier today. He suspected there might be a woman involved but he’d not asked. He’d have been unable to offer any advice anyway; it was for Ash to work out alone. But for now Ash was downstairs doing what he did best—avoiding whatever it was causing him grief by outrageously charming everyone he encountered.
Which meant Leo didn’t have to. Leo didn’t have to even be ‘Leo Castle’, right now. He could just be a man watching a mysterious, pretty woman out on the terrace.
The elevator had chimed its low warning a few moments ago. He’d neglected to lock it again when he’d come up, but now he swiped through a couple of screens on his phone, adjusting settings so the elevator couldn’t come back to this floor unless summoned by him. No more intruders today. No one but the female currently prowling through his plants.
He didn’t think she was a guest. Clad in a black blouse and black skirt and black heels that were more sensible than skyscraper, she was staff, he guessed. A waitress escaping all those trays of hors d’oeuvres for a few minutes. He didn’t blame her for wanting some peace, he’d wanted it himself.
He watched her explore the terrace, increasingly fascinated by her unguarded demeanour. She was a slim shadow and even though her hair was tied back he could see it was more flaming orange tones than rich auburn—like bonfire night. Despite the distance and even as the sky turned dusky, he could see her skin was pale. She breathed deeply, taking in the view before turning back to the small garden again. Her hand lightly touched the blooms with a reverence and care that he appreciated. He felt a fleeting desire for her to look up and inspect him with the same deliberate concentration, as if there were nothing and no one else in the world she had any interest in.
Ridiculous.
He half laughed beneath his breath at his fanciful thinking. He must be tired. He didn’t get distracted. Ever. But with that deal now completed, the party a success, maybe he could have a moment to enjoy the scenery. To stop and smell the roses like his interloper out there...
She cupped one of the flowers with a gentle touch and intense focus. But she didn’t pick the bloom. He was glad; he liked those flowers even if they only survived because of the people he paid to take care of them. More importantly, they were his. Not hers. But she suddenly turned to another plant. Her fingers slid across the large, flat leaf and down the stem. A second later she snapped it.
Leo stiffened in incredulity and a second later amusement washed over him.
Little thief.
She’d picked, not a flower, but a stem from an ugly-as-sin plant. Not quite Beauty stealing roses then, and nor was he about to be a Beast and keep her here for his entertainment. But given he’d caught her in the act, he was going to call her on it.
‘And you are...?’
Rosanna jumped and turned at the low voice. Her reply caught in her throat as she saw him. First impression? Intimidating size. Second? Eyes.
They were so blue they were almost indigo and it took only one look at them for her brain to slither into irrelevance and leave her simply staring. Tall, muscular, magnificent. He moved towards her slowly, almost carefully, which allowed other details to slowly seep in. His dark suit accentuated his height and the breadth of his shoulders. The man had muscles and he moved with lethal grace, which meant he must use those muscles well and often. His close-cropped hair and chiselled jaw added to his aura of discipline. Adding this to his very serious countenance, she guessed he was on the security team. As he moved nearer she saw those blue eyes sharpen, revealing intelligence, alertness and a faint hint of condemnation.
Rosanna was poleaxed. And why on earth was she suddenly thinking a man magnificent?
‘You know you’re not supposed to be here,’ he added, overlooking the fact she’d not answered his first question.
‘Are you?’ she deflected while attempting to catch both her breath and brain and hoping her flash-flood auto-blush would recede quickly.
‘I am.’ All authority.
‘Security detail?’ Catching her breath was impossible. Apparently all the oxygen had been sucked from the world and the plants surrounding her were no help whatsoever.
His shockingly vibrant eyes narrowed. ‘You’re...on service here?’
Service? She frowned before it dawned. The security guy thought she was a waitress—meaning he had no idea who she was. Rightly so—she really had no influence here, no matter how hard her parents wished it.
‘Escaping duty for a little while,’ she offered warily. It wasn’t a complete lie. ‘Besides, won’t other—?’ She broke off, realising she’d almost given herself away. ‘Won’t some of the guests be arriving up here shortly?’
His head moved almost imperceptibly. ‘No one is supposed to be up here.’
No one? Too late she realised that maybe more people weren’t up here because it was supposed to be off-limits.
‘Why not?’ she asked awkwardly. ‘It’s the best bit of the whole building.’
There was a hesitation. ‘Some of the interior isn’t finished so it’s not open for a tour tonight.’
‘Yet I got up here without any problems.’
‘That was a mistake.’
His gaze was so unrelenting she couldn’t resist a slight dig.
‘Lax security?’ she muttered innocently.
‘Apparently so,’ he acknowledged seriously. ‘But I’ve locked the elevators now so no one can come up without the code.’
Her breath caught again—he’d locked the lift? ‘What about getting back down?’
He didn’t blink but his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. Rosanna stared back at him, her own intrigue growing. Had that been a glimmer of amusement?
‘Are you concerned that you’re now stuck up here?’ he enquired softly. The edge of tease was so faint. But it was there.
‘Not in the least,’ she lied, instinctively going for self-preservation.
‘Not worried about losing your job?’
‘They won’t notice for a while.’ That wasn’t a lie at all.
‘I don’t believe you,’ he said. ‘I think the world would notice if you were absent.’
He was so far from right but, for just this once, it was nice to go along with it and believe a slightly cheesy line delivered by a sinfully serious man. Her nerves sharpened as awareness shivered along her veins. The sky had darkened further and now they were softly lit by the glow of those small bulbs. It could so easily be mistaken for a fairy den of magic and mystery and enticing amusement... And this flight of flirtish fancy? This ripple of temptation? This was not her. Ever.
She didn’t think it was him either. But he wasn’t moving and nor was she because there was something in the air.
She made herself swallow. ‘Shouldn’t you get back to doing your security rounds?’
‘There are plenty of us here. Besides, I’m keeping an eye on you.’
‘I’m not about to steal anything.’ She half laughed.
‘But you already have.’ He jerked his chin towards her hand.
‘Oh.’ She glanced down. She’d forgotten all about the stem of the Monstera plant she’d swiped. Now she realised she was gripping it so tightly it was a wonder she hadn’t minced it to pulp. ‘That.’
Amusement flickered again, ripping an irreparable tear in his serious facade, and he suddenly smiled—lopsided—as if it was an unfamiliar sensation stretching on his face. ‘Yes. That.’
He reached out and took the frond from her and she just let him because now he was smiling. Which meant that now he was spellbinding. Her heart raced in response to his move closer. She was so aware of him that she had to consciously not take a step back. It wasn’t that he was a danger but that he was a threat of another kind. A threat that was also a temptation. Especially when he smiled.
‘Any particular reason for this?’ he asked. ‘You didn’t want a flower?’
‘If I picked a flower it would die sooner.’
‘So you care about the plants?’ he mused. ‘This wasn’t wilful destruction?’
‘Of course not.’
His smile deepened as he stepped closer again and revealed a dimple beneath that perfectly sculpted cheekbone. Rosanna stood immobile as he threaded the stem into her hair. He didn’t touch her directly but she couldn’t breathe. She remained still even after he’d finished. Because he didn’t move. He just stood there looking into her eyes. And she looked back—unable to do anything else. The tension stretched. His expression was devastatingly hot. Was he really flirting with her? Did it happen like this—so quickly? So easily?
Guys never flirted with Rosanna. They never noticed her. And if by some chance they did, it was only to request to borrow her notes or to get something from the lab supply cupboard. And she definitely didn’t attempt to flirt—too shy, too wary of awkward rejection. Relationships weren’t something she had much experience with. Only right now there wasn’t just a flutter of anticipation inside her, there was a fizzing sensation and a temptation to lean closer and say something...stupid, probably. Yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
‘You’re not going to make me pay for it?’ she asked. ‘No punishment for petty theft?’
The terrible thing was she was curious as to what sort of ‘penance’ he might require—might it involve skin?
What was wrong with her?
His eyes widened slightly. That fizzing built the pressure inside her—threatening to explode in a way she wasn’t sure would be wise.
‘Why would I want to punish passion?’ he asked softly.
Passion? An unfamiliar flare of heat swept over her. She felt passion for plants, yes, absolutely. But this was different. He was unbearably handsome, and his all-serious intensity called to something within her. Mortified at her thinking, she glanced away from him. Small talk wasn’t her thing either. She’d always been shy, but she had to get herself out of this, quickly.
‘It’s an amazing view,’ she muttered awkwardly.
He didn’t reply.
‘And it’s the most beautiful terrace,’ she added, her nerves growing. ‘It’s weird because you know you’re in the heart of a massive city, but it’s quiet and secret up here.’
She didn’t usually fill silences. She wasn’t usually around people long enough for awkward silences to develop.
‘You’ve seen the other apartments?’ he asked.
‘The ones that are open, yes.’ She glanced up at him and couldn’t help a burr of defensiveness. ‘I’ve not been sneaking through others. I’m not a thief.’
‘No?’ Something flickered in his expression. ‘How do I know there aren’t other things you’ve taken?’
That glint in his eye ignited a fire beneath her skin. A sense of playfulness—of challenge—filled her.
‘You can’t take my word for it?’ she murmured. ‘Or are you going to pat me down?’
She experienced a sudden craving for touch that was so strong and so unlike her that she shivered.
‘I can imagine a strip-search.’ His gaze grazed down her body as if he had X-ray eyes able to see through the black satin to the plain black underwear she wore beneath.
He was like a shadow in which you found danger—enter depths you might get lost in and thus never emerge into the sunlight again. Rosanna was most definitely lost already.
‘The only thing I’ve taken is the frond,’ she said.
‘Why that one in particular?’ he asked softly. ‘I saw the way you looked at the plant—as if it was something precious. What makes it so special?’
How long had he been watching her?
Embarrassment curled. ‘The coloration on the leaves. I wanted to see if I could grow it from a cutting,’ she mumbled.
‘So it wasn’t just a whim?’
‘I don’t tend to do things on a whim.’
His eyes crinkled. ‘Nor do I.’
She suddenly smiled because that she could well believe—he seemed too intense to indulge in spontaneity. ‘I shouldn’t have taken it without asking.’
His eyebrows lifted. ‘We’re all tempted to take things we shouldn’t sometimes.’
His huskiness fuelled the fire of temptation already melting her.
‘I won’t tell if you won’t,’ he added softly.
That whisper with its promise of secrecy forged something between them. Something illicit. Something tempting. She had the feeling this guy could get away with almost anything. He had an aura, not just of power or command, but of unshakable capability.
‘Do you do that often?’ she asked.
‘Not tell?’
‘Give in to temptation and take what you shouldn’t.’ That heat scaled over every inch of her skin.
He hesitated for a moment before his smile emerged and went ever so slightly lopsided again. ‘Not often, no.’
She believed him—the discipline, the decency, the duty, rolled off his demeanour.
‘Although that doesn’t mean I can’t be persuaded by the right person,’ he suddenly added. ‘A temptation strong enough.’
That frisson of danger reared again.
‘You look strong enough to withstand any temptation,’ she said. ‘You look like you have a lot of discipline.’
He half laughed. ‘Appearances can be deceptive.’
‘But not everything in an appearance can be faked.’ Breathing, real, right in front of her, there was no dispute that those muscles of his weren’t honed. Muscles like that took work. ‘Or are you saying you’re not as strong as you look?’
‘You think I look strong?’
‘Yes. That’s part of your job, right?’
He cocked his head, that smile flickering around his mouth. ‘You look like a cat burglar. You act like one too. Yet you cry innocence.’
Rosanna blushed. She was more innocent than he’d probably imagined. A virgin at twenty-six—basically a mythical creature, right?
She breathed, wishing the heat would ease. Her skin was so pale that a barely heightened heartbeat showed up on her face as if she’d seen the most embarrassing thing imaginable. The merest hint of adrenalin in her system turned her into a tomato, which then clashed with the orange of her hair. Her awareness of it only made it worse. Her mother always recommended she smother her skin in make-up for contouring and complexion control. That way she could obliterate the millions of freckles at the same time and make her appearance smooth and inoffensive. She’d not bothered tonight. She should have.
She shrugged. ‘There’s nothing else I want to take from here.’
‘No?’ He almost pouted. ‘Now that is disappointing.’
‘What did you want me to take?’
‘Anything really, then I’d have to apprehend you.’ His eyes lit up. ‘Or you could just take me.’
That tension twisted.
‘I’m not strong enough to take you on.’ Nor experienced enough.
‘I think you’re underplaying your attributes.’
What attributes were they?
But he was watching her, his head slightly cocked to the side, his indigo eyes glinting as they caught that tiny light.
She was swamped by a rush of something so primal, so fierce, it stole more than her breath. The crazy urge to kiss him was so overwhelming it scared her. ‘I’d better get back—’
He took her hand, his touch instantly silencing her. That heat thickened. She didn’t—couldn’t—move, though his clasp was loose and she could’ve broken away easily. She stared up at him, lost in the unwavering blue of his eyes, stilled by the gentle rub of his thumb across the back of her hand.
He regarded her intently, his voice little more than a husky whisper. ‘Stay a little longer.’
