Page 24 of The Chase
I pulled out a strip of black silk material and realized I was looking at Coco de Mer lingerie.
My breath left me in a rush as the bra slipped from my fingers back into the box. He came closer, his expression intense, his green irises fierce under the light.
“Tobias?” My gaze dragged from his and fell back onto the tag on that thin strip of material that was meant to serve as a bra and it was my cup size. My cheeks blazed like fire. “What’s this for?”
He glanced at the dress. “Please, put on the Alexander McQueen.”
“Why?”
“You can’t go dressed like that.”
“Go where?”
“To see the painting.” He brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes and tucked it behind my ear.
It felt as though I’d been struck by lightning and the echo of his touch lingered where his fingers had brushed my cheek; my eyelids fluttered. “We’re not staying here?”
“No, Zara.”
“We’re going out?”
He gave the kindest smile. “Yes.”
My stare returned to the sexy underwear and then moved from the strappy shoes and hovered over the dress. “That’s for me?”
He gave an assured nod. “Meet me in the foyer.”
Tobias left and his heady cologne lingered behind him, its effect just as powerful.
I leaned on the central island and clutched the edge, knuckles white, fighting this wave of light-headedness.
As though rising from a dream, the situation became glaringly clear. I’d stepped inside the world of the truly wealthy and just proven I was out of my depth. Yes, I’d come from money, but it had all been tied up in property and paintings and never had I experienced moments of decadence that took my breath away—
Until now.
5
Reason caught up with my arousal and nudged it out of the way, helping me see clearly without the distraction of that sex god clouding my view.
You don’t invite a professional woman over to your home, which is in the middle of nowhere, show her some erotic lingerie and tell her to put it on, and then force her to wear a gown from one of the world’s top designers. No matter how much it must have cost or how gorgeous those strappy straps looked with that risqué off-the-shoulder design and elegant ruching, and the way it fell to flatter a woman’s curves just so.
Even if you do go around flaunting you’re the sexiest man alive and a hero to wildlife, with the ease of someone who pretends he has no effect on those around him.
“No, you bloody well don’t.” I stomped down the hallway, through the foyer and out into the cold night air.
And headed for my Range Rover.
From what I’d seen, everyone back at Huntly Pierre seemed reasonable. I’d merely relay my concerns about our client’s eccentricities and be off the hook—
A burst of noise above.
A blinding fluorescent white lit up the house.
I forced my lips shut against the tornado of dust and leaves swirling around me and brought my hands up to protect my face from the scattering debris, crouching against the metal monster looming above, the force of wind shoving me back and blasting my clothes.
Whirling blades came into view—
The sleek helicopter turned a 180 and landed smoothly before me. Heart pounded, blood roared in my ears, my legs weakened.
