A Dangerously Sexy Christmas. Stefanie LondonЧитать онлайн книгу.
it from a guy who’d all but admitted he disliked her?
Pathetic. You’ve officially reached a D-grade celebrity, Real Housewives-level of sadness. Next stop, the Big Brother house.
Max typed on his phone, seemingly unaware of her inner crazy. He looked delectable in his skin-hugging jeans, faded T-shirt, leather jacket and scuffed boots. Casual and totally perfect. His fingers flew over the screen of his smartphone, dexterous and nimble. She swallowed, wondering what those fingers would feel like on her, teasing her. Coaxing her.
The elevator pinged and Max shoved the phone into his back pocket, motioning for her to exit first. The hallway of the boutique hotel was a little kitsch, the exposed brick and ornate carpet hinting at another time. Their suite was the one closest to the elevator. Was that so they could make a quick getaway?
Stop being so paranoid. This will probably blow over before you know it. Don’t turn into a baby now! Not with something much more interesting to focus on...
* * *
MAX CHECKED IN with the assignment manager at Cobalt & Dane Security and let him know that he would be watching over Rose tonight. He logged their location—using the required location alias—should anything happen. The hotel was on the company’s list of approved safe houses and he knew there were two security consultants who lived in the same block should he need backup tonight.
Doing things “by the book” had always been his style. He’d been the third generation to join the Victoria Police, and his family had instilled in him a strong sense of obligation and obedience. But the rules didn’t offer him the same comfort they once had. He’d followed orders every day of his career and now, because of his loyalty to the rules, Ryan was dead.
His best friend gone. Forever.
No way was he making that same mistake again. Speaking of Rose, she was one thing not going his way. He wondered if he was being punished for fucking up everything back home. She was exactly the kind of client he didn’t want: headstrong, argumentative. Tempting beyond all belief.
Hell, seeing the expensive lingerie strewn all around her bedroom had done crazy things to him. He couldn’t help but picture how amazing she would look in the red lace teddy he’d spied hanging off one of her bed posts. Maybe she had stockings to match. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair.
“How long did you book us in for?” Rose asked as she opened the door to their suite and flicked on the light.
The suite was modest and simply furnished, but the couch looked comfortable enough, and it had a direct line of sight to the bedroom door. That would be good for his duties, bad for his sanity.
Outside, the night had bloomed. The sky was a blanket of twinkling city lights on a background of deep indigo. The hotel had a partial view of the Manhattan skyline, though partial in this case amounted to about 10 percent.
New York still overwhelmed him. He’d grown up in the country, only moving to Melbourne when his father had accepted a promotion to superintendent. Melbourne had felt huge at the time, but New York was like a monster that had eaten several smaller cities for breakfast. It was louder, faster, more aggressive. The sheer volume of people and vehicles still fascinated Max, still made him feel far away from home.
“I only booked us for tonight,” he replied, setting Rose’s suitcase against the wall. “We’ll check out tomorrow morning and head straight back to your apartment.”
“To survey the damage,” she muttered. Her full lips pursed for a moment, her yellow-green eyes blazing like fire. “Bastards. They’re not going to bring me down.”
In that moment, he saw who she was for the first time. The real Rose. Not the princess who’d graced his office this morning. Not the taunting naughty-story-reading vixen. No, she was a passionate businesswoman determined to make it on her own. Determined to maintain her independence. She had a chip on her shoulder, and that made him like her even more...despite her assumption that he didn’t like her at all.
“Do you have any idea who might be behind the break-ins, Rose?”
She sucked on her lower lip, shaking her head in slow swishing movements. “Not really. I barely know anyone in the city.”
“There’s no one from London who might have followed you?”
A wicked smile curved the corner of her lips. “I dated a writer from a fancy magazine in the UK and it ended abruptly. But I doubt he’d follow me here.”
“You don’t look too sad about it.”
“He was terrible in bed. It was never going to last.”
She took out her earrings and rolled them in her hand, making them catch the light and glimmer, playing with them as though they were worry beads.
“What about your father? Does he have any enemies?”
“You’d need to ask someone who knows him.” She laughed, the bitter sound wrenching in Max’s chest. “He deals antiques. Could he have screwed someone on a price? I honestly wouldn’t have a clue.”
Max nodded, picked up her suitcase and walked to the bedroom. “You should probably get some rest.”
The bedroom was as modest as the lounge area. A king-size bed took up most of the space, the cream linens contrasting with the exposed redbrick wall and a plain lamp on the nightstand.
He imagined her splayed across that bed, the lamplight dancing across her pearly skin. He pictured just how magnificent her breasts would be unconfined, weighty in his palms. Slick beneath his mouth.
“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked, coming up beside him and placing her earrings on the nightstand. Her eyes analyzed him, shrewd. Assessing.
“They’re worth more than a penny right now,” he muttered, tossing her suitcase on the bed.
Her hands went to the back of her necklace. She fiddled with the clasp for a minute and then paused. “Can I borrow your hands?”
Hell yes, you can.
She turned her back to him, bending her head forward to expose the clasp of her necklace. He brushed aside the hair at the nape of her neck and felt a tremor run through her. The clasp was small and fiddly. His fingers swept against her smooth skin as he fumbled like a teenage boy tackling a bra clasp for the first time.
The thought sent a wave of heat through him. If only she’d move closer, arch against him. The clasp finally released and he stepped away, dazed by the scent of her perfume and the heady rush of lust.
Abort! Abort! Get the fuck out of there. NOW.
“I’ll leave you to it.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be right outside. Make sure the window is locked.”
He checked the bathroom and closet, satisfied that the room was secure. She continued to remove her jewelry, sliding the bangles over her slender wrists and hands. The tinkling sound of precious metals clouded his mind. As her hands reached for the hem of her top he turned and left the room.
“Sweet dreams,” she called after him.
ROSE LAY IN bed staring at the ceiling so intently she could have burned a hole through it. Every creak of the floor above her pushed slumber further away. Every groan of the building, every slamming of a door, every noise from the streets below made her twist and turn until the bedsheets were wrapped around her like a python going in for the kill.
Knowing that Max was mere feet away didn’t help, either. The way he’d brushed the back of her neck while taking off her necklace earlier had been fuel to her flames. As grouchy and stern as he was, she’d seen a hint of fire in him. He’d comforted her when she’d been worried about her safety. He’d challenged her