The Black Sheep and The English Rose. Donna KauffmanЧитать онлайн книгу.
her hands from his and tried to wriggle out from underneath him. She hadn’t expected to feel such a strong tug. A tug that wasn’t entirely physical. It was bad enough that he could make her body tremble in need with nothing more than a glance and a smile. Her heart absolutely could not—would not—come into play. And yet she was looking at him and feeling something that was undeniably affectionate.
Foolhardy, indeed.
She needed to get some distance from him, and quickly, if she was going to think even remotely clearly on the matter. For whatever reason, and she was certain he had them, he let her go and rolled to his back as she quickly slid off the bed and moved several feet away.
She’d thought she’d been having a bad day when she’d so badly bungled her one prime opportunity in this case earlier this evening. Now she was standing in her own room, wearing nothing more than a few flimsy pieces of lingerie, her body riled up in ways it hadn’t been for two long years, her heart in a surprising little tangle of its own, and, furthermore, contemplating joining forces with the one man who’d proven himself to be her most formidable adversary. She hadn’t known the meaning of bad day.
“Allow me to dress, then we’ll talk.”
“Don’t feel you have to on my account.” He propped his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles. “You know, I rather like you in blue.” He said it casually, matter-of-factly. “Something about the contrast with that pale skin and all that amazing hair.”
She shouldn’t blush. Lord knew the things they’d already done together made blushing a bit after the fact. But for all that their main connection thus far had been purely animal in nature, he’d still occasionally say something so sincere, and so…uncalculated, she’d find herself reacting in ways that were dangerous, to say the least. Like wondering what it would be like to be with Finn in regular, day-to-day circumstances. Where every word, every move, didn’t have to be examined and analyzed for potential danger to the mission at hand. It was a dangerous notion, indeed. Of course, even in her real life she lived nothing remotely close to what people would consider a normal routine, so it was all moot anyway. Still…
She turned her back to him and walked to her closet. “I appreciate the sentiment,” she informed him, still struggling to reclaim that distance even now that his hands weren’t on her. “However, though you have good reason to assume otherwise, if it’s business we’re to discuss, then I’d prefer to be dressed for such.”
He shrugged. “Fine by me. All the better to imagine you like this underneath whatever tailored little suit you decide to put on. In some cases, more can still be less.”
She rolled her eyes. Truly incorrigible. But his smile was one of pure fun and mischief, and she wished like hell it didn’t make her want to be just as mischievous in return. Like surprise him by running back and leaping on top of him, and simply having her way with him for the next few hours. The images that immediately played through her now feverish mind made her leap for her walk-in closet instead. She did manage to pull herself together enough to pause before stepping inside. The only chance she had here was to keep him believing she thought she had the upper hand at all times.
She looked back at him. “Perhaps I should shackle you to the bed, to ensure you’ll still be here when I return. At the very least, to make certain neither of us gets a head start.”
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere.”
She stepped in the closet and closed the door behind her. “Yeah,” she whispered shakily. “That’s what I’m most afraid of.”
She skimmed over the array of clothing hanging in front of her, which was about as complete a wardrobe as anyone could hope to have at home, much less while traveling. She was an heiress and, as such, was expected to travel in a certain fashion. Had it been up to her, she’d have been thrilled with throwing a comfortable pair of trousers and a few shirts in a satchel and taking off. But that wasn’t how things worked. “And I’m so heartily sick of how things have to work.”
“Do you always mutter while you dress?”
She jumped. His voice was close. Just-on-the-other-side-of-the-door close. “I realize that my past manner of conduct around you might give a differing point of view, but, at the moment, I’d appreciate a bit of privacy, if you don’t mind.”
“Not in the least. That’s why I left the door closed.”
“Big of you.”
“You have no idea.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or rap her forehead repeatedly against the closet wall. If she thought it would instill the least bit of sense, she’d have been happy to do the latter, but, as usual, it was the former that he provoked. “Actually,” she retorted, knowing better even as she spoke, “I believe I have a better idea than most. Well, assuming you don’t spend all of your time as you do when you’re with me.”
“I should be so fortunate.”
“I believe I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was intended as one. Are you decent yet?”
She laughed again. “You have no idea.”
His laugh was rich, and deep, and so incredibly sexy that she grabbed for the closest hanger to keep from yanking the door open and dragging him into the closet with her. She quickly pulled on a crisply tailored, button-front, sleeveless white sundress, the full skirt decorated with a lush green and rust floral pattern, knowing something stiffer and more formal would have probably been a far smarter choice, but he had this way of looking at her that made her feel naked anyway, so what did it matter? At least this way she’d be comfortable.
She slipped her feet into matching green, low-heeled sandals, then made an attempt at fixing her hair, but with the mirror on the outside of the door, it was a blind attempt at best. Finally she faced the door, but paused before going out. She took a moment to remind herself why she’d come all the way to New York. She had a dual role here, her first time risking trying to pull off her public job and her private one at the same time. It was vitally important she complete both tasks successfully, and she’d already made a massive error in judgment on one part. Two, actually, if she counted severely underestimating her other opponent, earlier today.
She opened the door, expecting him to be looming on the other side. Instead, she was surprised to find him on the opposite side of the room, looking out at the expansive view of Central Park provided by her penthouse lodging. Of course, it was his very unpredictability that drew her in. Most men of her acquaintance were fairly basic, their motives and intent easily analyzed and determined. Not Finn.
“Nice view,” he said as she walked up behind him.
She’d considered staying on the opposite side of the room, but for her own personal test, and to indicate to him that she wasn’t the least bit affected by him now that she’d been released from her unsavory situation, she’d closed the distance between them.
“I thought it was rather lovely, yes,” she said, then immediately cursed her flawed strategy when he glanced over his shoulder and did a quick head-to-toe rundown that left her feeling slightly flushed and fully stripped.
“Ditto,” he said, leaving her to wonder whether he was referring to the view below or the one standing in front of him. She chose the former, but the continual involuntary flickering of the muscles between her thighs said she hoped otherwise.
“So, about the details of this proposed collaboration,” she began. “Let’s elaborate.” From now on, business would rule the day.
She’d deal with the night when the time came.
He turned to face her. “We’re both here for the same reason.”
She wondered if he knew just how complex her reasons really were. “Continue.”
“You were right earlier. Our adversary—assuming that is who left you in such a…bind, earlier, and is who I think it is—is a challenging one.”
Her