Page 12 of Fire

Reaching around her, she saw in the dim lighting from the lone overhead light, a flash of gold in his hand.

“You have the key?”

By way of answering, he inserted it into the lock and twisted the knob. Then pushing the door open, he placed a hand on her back, encouraging her in.

She stepped into an office.

Looking around the masculine space, she asked, “Whose office is this?”

He walked to a mini bar at the side of the room. “Mine.”

And then it all clicked. Why he was there two weeks in a row. Why he knew so many people. He owned the club. “You sent the invitation.”

“I did.” He gestured to the decanter he was holding.

She shook her head. “Work tomorrow, remember?”

“It’s water.” He unstopped the top and poured into two crystal tumblers. She liked the way he moved. As fluid as the water he poured but with an underlying strength that was felt more than seen. “While I enjoy the ritual of pouring a drink, I loathe alcohol.”

Storing that interesting tidbit away for later, she tackled the most pressing issue. “How did you know my name? My address?”

Picking up the glasses, he walked back over and tried to hand her one, but she shook her head. His eyes did a sweep of her face before he admitted, “Security cameras. I got it off your credit card when you flashed it at the bar.”

He took a sip of his drink, staring at her over the rim.

“That explains how you know my name, but not my address. That’s not stamped on the card.”

Not looking the least bit apologetic, he shrugged a shoulder. “I had my head of security run you.”

Her stomach dipped, and she took a small step back. “Run me? You mean like a background check?”

His eyes scanned her again before saying slowly, “Not quite as invasive, but yes.”

Unease twisted a knot in her stomach. “Maybe I should go.” Her body may be yearning for him, but her brain was screaming at her—red flashing lights and all—that he was still a stranger, and she didn’t know what he was capable of.

She took another step back, discreetly glancing over her shoulder to gauge the distance to the door.

“Will you give me the opportunity to explain why?” He put even more distance between them, casually walking to his desk. After setting both drinks down, he planted his ass against it, crossing his feet at the ankles, his hands gripping the edge.

Knowing she could reach the door before he could reach her settled the churning in her stomach. She gave a small nod, wanting to hear what he had to say and hoped curiosity didn’t kill this cat.

“Contrary to what you may be thinking right now, I’m not a crazy stalker. When I first saw you…” He paused as if trying to process his words. “I’ve never felt anything like the first time I saw you. All it took was one look, and I was enthralled. I had an emergency to deal with—that’s why I didn’t approach then—and by the time I returned, you were already gone.”

Knowing how she’d felt the first time she saw him, could she fault his actions? She herself had been obsessing over him for the past week. Who’s to say if she’d had the means to find him at her disposal, she wouldn’t have done the same thing? And call her crazy, but it gave her a small thrill, knowing he’d gone through so much trouble to find her.

“I couldn’t take the chance of never seeing you again.” Uncrossing his ankles, he stood from his slouch against the desk and slowly came toward her.

She didn’t move, ensnared by his predatory gaze. Reaching her, he wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her the couple of inches that separated them until they were plastered chest to chest. His hand slid up, fingers tangling in her hair to gently pull her head back. His tipped down, and she stared into the depths of his hazel eyes—mesmerized. “I needed to see if what I felt the first time I saw you was real.”

She licked her lips. “And was it?”

“Yes.” It was only one word, but a potent one—jam-packed with so much emotion, it sent her heart racing.

He was going to kiss her, his intent clearly written in his eyes. If she were going to, this was the time to push him away. Tell him no. But she didn’t do either. Instead, she waited with anxious anticipation as his head seemed to descend in slow motion.

His free hand landed on her hip, slid around to the small of her back and pressed, fitting her snuggly against him and trapping her arm at her side.

His bearing was an unyielding force, and she felt the power of it surrounding her. The strength of his arms crushed her to the hard and rigid planes of his body, and her softness submitted to it.

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