Page 37 of Forbidden Access

He gave a shy nod, then hurried away. She noticed he carried a woven bag under one arm, and she guessed he was going to the market square to buy groceries.

On a whim, she climbed the wooden gate he’d come through and glanced over the top. It was a sprawling complex of low-income housing, fronted by a dried-grass area that had been turned into a makeshift basketball court. Several kids the same age as the boy played on it, some barefoot, others in flip-flops, and a few in trainers.

Thorn dropped back onto the path. Nothing of use there.

She walked to the end of the track where it opened up into another, smaller square. This one had a big oak tree in the middle, surrounded by a bench. It seemed to be a pedestrian-only plaza, as there were no cars. Two old ladies sat on the bench chatting.

Five four or five at the most. Late seventies.

Zero threat.

Thorn nodded as she walked past, and they gazed at her with undisguised curiosity.

Two roads led off the square. Inspecting the map, she ascertained that the one on the right joined up with the main road leading out of town. The one on the left led to more houses, eventually petering out.

She took one last look around the square, noting the weathered facades of the houses and the small store that looked like it hadn’t opened in years. The front was boarded up, and a rusted sign creaked in the breeze.

She sighed, knowing she needed to get back to the hotel, but also dreading it. Because Damian would be there. With his penetrating gaze, his infuriating smirk, and that stupidly perfect body.

Just a job. He’s just a job.

But she knew that was a lie, a pitiful attempt to keep the fire inside her from burning out of control.

Satisfied with her reconnaissance, Thorn turned on her heel and broke into a jog, pushing herself harder than necessary, as if the physical exertion could somehow burn away the heat simmering inside her. She tried to focus on the terrain, on the rhythm of her breathing, on anything but the images of Damian that kept flashing through her mind. But no matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t outrun the thought of him—waiting for her back at the hotel, half-naked, his eyes dark with that infuriating mix of challenge and desire.

CHAPTER 15

“What did you really do this morning?” Damian’s gaze flicked to Thorn as she sat across from him. She’d been gone for over an hour, leaving him to stew in his own frustration. After his shower, there was nothing else to do. No laptop to work on, no internet, and not even his damn cell phone.

He’d paced the small room like a caged animal, his mood darkening with each passing minute.

“I told you, I went for a run.” Her voice was steady, but it didn’t do much to calm the storm brewing inside him.

He didn’t respond immediately, taking in the way her cheeks were flushed from the exercise, her hair slightly tousled from the wind. She looked so damn sexy, and it was driving him crazy. He had to physically restrain himself from reaching across the table, grabbing her, and pulling her against him. Even now, with the sun casting playful shadows in her hair, she took his breath away. But it didn’t matter. She’d made it clear she wasn’t interested.

It was like a switch had been flipped. The woman who’d kissed him like she was starving for him had turned cold, distant. A perfect professional mask. It was going to be a long, torturous week.

“Okay, while I was out, I scouted the town,” she admitted, reaching for her coffee. “In case we have to leave in a hurry.”

He arched an eyebrow, trying to tamp down the frustration gnawing at him. “You found us an escape route?”

“Actually, yeah. I think so. We’re pretty isolated here. There’s only one main road that goes over the mountain, and most of the access roads lead to that.”

He nodded, though his thoughts were still on her, still on how close she’d been to him last night. “What are we going to do here for a week if you won’t let me go out?”

She frowned, and he could see the wall she was putting up between them. “I didn’t say you couldn’t go out. That was a one-off. I had to know you were safe.”

He couldn’t hold back his frustration any longer. “I’m a big boy, Thorn. I can look after myself for an hour. I don’t need to be locked into a goddamn hotel bedroom like a child.”

Her expression hardened, a defensive shield snapping into place. “It was for your own safety.”

“Bullshit. You just don’t trust me.”

Before she could respond, Clara, a younger version of their hostess, approached with a fruit salad, bread, cheese, and more coffee.

Damian sat back, trying to rein in his temper, but his stomach chose that moment to remind him that they hadn’t eaten since the previous day. The growl from his belly was loud enough for Thorn to hear.

“This looks great, Clara,” Thorn said, her tone deliberately casual.

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