Page 20 of Covert

“Ofhim?” He made it sound like taking on Quade and winning would be child’s play. “Not likely. Just curious, that’s all.”

Eager to put the whole episode behind them, she said, “Quade’s a friend of my brother. We practically grew up together.”

“He seemed overly familiar.”

“He’s a jackass, just like my brothers.”

Who would never let her hear the end of it if they discovered the real reason she was spending time with Dylan Harmon: working for him.

“Let’s finish and take that cruise,” he said, as eager to ditch the subject of Quade as her.

Thankfully, the rest of the meal passed without incident. They made mundane small talk scattered between courses—pan-seared garlic prawns, cumin-encrusted lamb shoulder, and a melt in the mouth pistachio soufflé’—followed by a stroll along the Yarra River and a ride in a gondola.

A relaxed, fun evening, as she wanted.

However, just as she managed to replace the lid on her fantasies surrounding Dylan, he did something that pried it open.

He kissed her.

Again.

13

Dylan had known this evening would end in disaster, yet he’d gone ahead anyway, consequences be damned.

From the moment he laid eyes on Sam, in her slinky black pants and shimmering red top, his caveman instincts had risen to the fore and all he wanted to do was drag her back to his room.

Ridiculous, as he’d never had that urge with any other woman in his past. He’d done the dating rounds, but every relationship soured when his girlfriends revealed their true colours.

They’d never been truly interested in him; the major attraction being marrying for the Harmon name and fortune. Since the last disaster three years ago, he’d sworn to avoid game players, women who’d lie to get what they wanted.

Perhaps that explained his attraction to Sam? She was a refreshing change from the contrived, artificial women that usually graced his path, from her tousled blonde curls to her quirky sense of humour. She teased him, reeling him in with a beguiling openness that had him hankering for more.

And what had he done?

The one thing he’d sworn he wouldn’t do again.

He kissed her.

Correction, he devoured her, until they’d been breathless and in dire danger of being tipped into the icy Yarra River.

Rather than berating him, she had the audacity to laugh.

“Stop it. It’s not funny.” His mouth twitched with the effort of trying not to join in her laughter.

Her peals of laughter drew curious glances from other couples drifting along the river in nearby gondolas.

“Sam, your mirth is putting a serious dent in my male ego. Was my technique that bad?”

Her chuckles petered out and she stared at him with those wide green eyes that bewitched him from the first minute he’d seen her.

“I’m pretty sure you can gauge from my response exactly how well you kiss.” She touched his hand. “And that’s the first time you’ve called me that.”

“What?”

“Sam. You usually call me ‘Samantha’ in that plummy accent of yours.”

“I don’t have a plummy accent.”

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