Page 17 of Midnight Enemy

“Why?”

“Because… you might not feel safe being alone with a man?” Most of the women I know would have balked at the idea, especially if nobody knew where they were.

Scarlett just snorts. “Try anything with me, sunshine, and I’ll have you flat on your back in seconds.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Don’t flirt with me.”

“You started it.”

She throws me a glare. “I hate you and everything you stand for.”

“I love you too.”

“Mr. Cavendish…”

“Jesus, I’m not in my sixties. Call me Orson.”

“Mr. Cavendish, I think it’s probably best that we maintain some kind of professional decorum, don’t you?”

“Absolutely not.” I hold a branch back for her. “I need you to explain exactly how you would have me flat on my back in seconds.”

“I’m a black belt in Jiu Jitsu.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”

“Yes. You have been warned.”

“I’m tempted to tackle you now to see if you’re fibbing.”

“Just try it.”

Without warning, I grab her arm and pull her toward me with the intention of snatching a kiss to prove my male superiority.

About two seconds later I discover myself on my back amongst the dead leaves. Scarlett had dropped to a crouch and charged her shoulder into my midriff with a double-leg takedown, completely taking me by surprise.

“Holy fuck.” I look up at her, astonished. “That was impressive.”

She gives me a smug look. “Told you.”

Her eyes are the same color as the earth beneath me, and the dappled sunlight reveals autumn highlights in her hair—light browns, reds, and golds.

I slide an arm around her waist and, before she can react, I lift up and twist, reversing our positions so she’s underneath me, and then grabbing her wrists and pinning them either side of her head. She fights me, but I’m a foot taller and much heavier, and without the element of surprise she doesn’t stand a chance.

She stops moving, and for a long moment we look into each other’s eyes. Christ, she’s gorgeous.

“Submit?” I ask softly.

Her eyes flare. “Never.”

I give a short laugh. “Stubborn to the end.”

“I always win,” she says. “I’m just being kind.” She glances down, and I follow her gaze to discover her knee resting about an inch from my family jewels.

That should have alarmed me, but all I can focus on is the way the skirt of her dress has risen to her hip to reveal her thigh with its expanse of smooth, light-brown skin.

“This’ll hurt more if you have an erection,” she points out.

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