Page 27 of Covert

She walked away without looking back, clamping down on the urge to run from his all-to-seeing stare.

17

Sam knew she shouldn’t do it.

Every fibre of her being screamed that accompanying Dylan to this business dinner would be the wrong thing to do, but what choice did she have when the man she fell for more each day had practically begged her.

She thought she’d been clever, pushing him away since they returned from Budgeree. However, her plan had backfired, and all she’d succeeded in doing was inflaming Dylan’s curiosity further.

Though their working relationship continued to flourish, he’d fired several probing questions at her when she least expected it, as if trying to discover her deepest secrets.

Now this.

Flying to Sydney with Dylan and attending some big function as his partner wasnother idea of keeping her distance. Or her cool.

She’d barely survived their week at Budgeree together, and if Ebony hadn’t been there, Sam would’ve done something stupid. Strangely, she’d felt a sense of peace, of belonging, at the isolated homestead that she’d yet to find elsewhere.

Initially, she put it down to the rugged beauty of the surrounds and the tranquillity that pervaded the outback. However, as the week passed in a flurry of business meetings, land surveillance, and bookkeeping, she realised it was something more.

Despite the giant chip of family responsibility Dylan carried around on his shoulders, she’d grown to recognise he thrived on it, and for a brief, irrational moment she imagined what it would be like to share his dream, his vision, of making the barren tract of land flourish.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Dylan said, and Sam turned toward him, wishing the business class seats had more room between them.

She’d been all too aware of his proximity since they first boarded the flight, and even now, as he stared at her with those enigmatic dark eyes, had to resist from leaning into him.

“Just taking some time out.” She forced a smile. “My boss is a slave driver, you know. I barely have a minute to myself these days.”

She rolled her eyes, enjoying the spark in his whenever they exchanged this sort of banter. For a man his age, Dylan Harmon was far too serious. Time for him to lighten up—if that was possible.

“Your boss values your input, that’s why he drives you so hard.”

“Is that right?” She wondered how far she could push him. “So, is that why you invited me along to this dinner? Because you value my input?”

A flicker of appreciation shot through his eyes as he stared at her lips. “There are many reasons why I invited you to this dinner.”

Her heart picked up tempo as he continued to stare at her, and she wondered what demon drove her to flirt with him. She knew it could be dangerous, she knew it was wrong.

Yet she wanted him more than she’d wanted anything in her life. “Why don’t you tell me a few of these so-called reasons?”

He paused and she could’ve sworn he leaned even closer. “You’re smart, witty, and gorgeous, three attributes I value in a dinner companion. How’s that for starters?”

His warm breath caressed her cheek, sending a scattering of goosebumps across her skin. She was playing with fire and if she wasn’t careful, would get seriously burned.

“Gorgeous, huh?”

“Come on, Samantha. Don’t tell me I’m the first man to ever tell you that?”

He held her chin and tilted her face upward, scrutinising it with the expertise of an art critic evaluating a priceless piece.

Sam could barely breathe, let alone respond, as his thumb gently brushed her bottom lip.

“You must have men falling at your feet, ready to whisk you up the aisle at a moment’s encouragement.”

His words doused her like a bucket of cold water as an image of Max flashed across her mind. Though tall and distinguished for a man of fifty, there was something about the way he stared at her that made her skin crawl.

Why would a man that age, who had everything money could buy, want to get married to a girl he’d watched grow up?

Several reasons crossed her mind, none of them pleasant.

---