Page 36 of Tempted

“Then there is your flaw, right there. Don't you know that half of learning comes from making mistakes?”

I can't help but feel that maybe he's just not good at being vulnerable. We had sex, and clearly, he didn't want to have done that, and now I’m pointing out his flaws. It's probably not the best approach, considering that I’m about to spend the next however many days with him. Then he rounds on me. “What about all the mistakes thatyou'vemade, lass? The evidence that you've kept from the police, for one. You showing up here unannounced, for two. And you, being a total bitch, after I made you come three times today, whether I wanted to or not.”

His voice isn't raised, but the tone is cutting. And, once again, he refuses to look at me when he speaks to me, which is a telltale sign of disrespect. As I grab two plates out of the cupboard above, I decide to take a different approach. “I can tell you about at least a hundred and fifty different mistakes that I've made since starting my business, Malcolm. Every time I make a mistake, I learn something from it.”

As he scoops the eggs onto the plates, while I hold them, his tone is facetious. “Well, la-di-fucking-da for you, lass. Let me get out my noisemakers and we'll celebrate.”

As I roll my eyes and take my plate from him, I walk to the table. I decide that he's just being an asshole and it's best to just shut up for a while. We sit at the table, eating in silence, while the wind and rain smack up against the windows, and we're both almost completely oblivious to it. Both of our phones beep with notifications simultaneously, and we look at each other. “I bet you it's the storm warning, letting us know when it's expected to make landfall.” Malcolm suggests.

As he's about to rise to go get his phone, I stop him. “Mine is closer. I'll get it.” I can feel his gaze watching me as I walk away. I'm not sure what to make of that. He's a very difficult man to read. He wants me but he doesn't. He hates me but he cares. He's attracted to me, but he hates that he is. Then I realize that we both have the same problem. Sure enough, the notification on my phone says that the storm is going to hit landfall by morning. Less than twelve hours away.

“They say it's going to be a category four, maybe more, if the winds don't dissipate.”

“What do they say the wind speed is at? It's gotta be at least eighty mph by now judging by the sound.”

“Aye, around eighty to ninety.” I confirm.

“Any evacuation orders?”

“In Florida, Georgia and South Carolina, but not North Carolina...yet.” I clarify.

“The roads will be loaded already. Nobody is going anywhere, and it doesn’t matter, anyway, since this house is built for hurricanes, tornadoes, whatever. I’ve never left even if there was an evacuation order. It’s safer than goddamn DisneyWorld in this place.” The look he gives me is resentment. He hates it thatI'm here. I want to reason with him that I can leave, before I really do get stuck here, so I break it to him gently.

“Malcolm, it’s not too late for me to leave, okay? Before they place the evacuation order and close the roads.”

He raises a hand. “Look, lass. As much as I hate it that this is happening, I don’t hate it enough that I’d rather see you hurt or dead. We can manage this. This is a big house.”

“Are you sure? I’m a big girl, Malcolm.”

He points towards the door. His voice and his face are warning. “You try to leave and see what happens.”

“Oh, are you threatening me now?” I blurt. “No man has ever told me what to do and it’s not time I let them start.”

He nods, face set like stone, lips pursed. “Fine. Go ahead and fucking leave then. Be a fool. See if I fucking care.” He hisses he’s so pissed off. Next thing I know, he storms out of the room, heads to his office and slams the door shut. Mature. Very mature. Looking around, I see that the kitchen needs to be cleaned and me being a neat freak, I can’t stand it. After I wash the dishes and tidy up the countertops and kitchen table, I put the clean dishes away and decide that I need to check my emails. With no laptop, I’m reduced to my phone. With that, I do manage to knock off a few messages to my staff, and to my development team. I even make a phone call to Colton, who was inquiring about my safety.

Because I keep most of my work on cloud, I’m able to get a bunch of notes and things, and aside from the distraction of the wild wind outside, I get lots done. I hear Malcolm walking around in his office, and then he approaches me in the living room, still huddled up in front of the fireplace.

“Here.” He says, handing me a laptop computer. “It’s a spare. My brothers use it sometimes, but it’s cleaned. Use it.”

“Thanks. I’m managing just fine with my phone, but thanks all the same.”

He looks at the kitchen, hesitating, likely noticing that I cleaned up. “You can sleep in any of the spare rooms or the suite. Clean linens are on the beds and in the closet if you like. I have more clothes that might fit you, too.”

“Thanks. I’m okay for now.”

“I’m heading up to bed. I like to read from my phone there.”

I hesitate, looking at him. He’s no longer upset, but he’s resigned. “I promise you won’t even know that I’m here, Malcolm.”

He purses his lips and nods his acknowledgment before walking away.

But I end up keeping him up half the night...

Malcolm

At first, I think it’s just the wind battering the trees, or debris smacking up against the house, but then, in a quick moment of silence, I hear it again. It’s a violent cough. I dart up out of bed, thinking that somebody is outside, some vagrant or some insane idiot that’s stupid enough to risk getting drowned, or worse, sucked up into the tornadoes that surround the hurricanes. But then I get up out of bed and walk to the center of the landing, trying to figure out where the sound is coming from. When I hear it again, I know for sure that it’s coming from the spare room.

Steph is groaning in her sleep, tossing and turning, and I can feel the heat off her the second that I walk into the room. “Fuck.”I mutter, walking towards her. As soon as I sit down on the bed, she starts coughing again. I put my hand on her forehead and confirm that she's burning up with fever. She shivers at my touch and lifts her head. The night light from the hallway illuminates just enough for her to see that it's me. And the fact that my emergency lights haven't come on, proves that we haven't lost power yet.

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