Page 46 of Dangerous Temptation
He went still. Bad? He’d been locked up, his free will taken away. He’d been lumped in with murderers, drug dealers and wife-beaters. He’d walked away from that place, swearing not to look back, yet it had followed him into locked rooms and into his sleep – or it had until she’d entered his bed. ‘I don’t want to talk about that.’
Her gaze dropped. She laid her hand against his chest and her thumb traced the edge of his pec. ‘What had you planned on doing when you got here? Alone in this big, gaping house? I mean, if you hadn’t found me?’
He threaded his fingers through her hair. That was treacherous ground, too.
He looked into her face. Where was she going with this? ‘Rage,’ he admitted. ‘And plan.’
Her hand stopped caressing his chest and hovered right over his heart. ‘Plan what?’
He schooled his face. ‘It doesn’t matter. Youwerehere.’
Her eyelashes fluttered and she lifted that doe-eyed gaze to pin him. She watched him for a long moment. ‘Don’t make me regret trusting you,’ she finally whispered.
A muscle worked in his jaw, but he said nothing.
Because that was a promise he couldn’t make. Not when he couldn’t trust her.
Chapter Eight
He’d made her mindless.
It was the only explanation.
Elena was still as she leaned against the window frame, staring out at the lake, but her finger traced its edge over and over again. Inside, she was all tangled up. Around Alex, she did things she wouldn’t normally do and now she felt guilty, confused and apprehensive. So uncomfortable, it was taking everything inside her not to throw some boxes into her car and leave.
She’d done it again.
She’d slept with him. It was like she didn’t know herself any more. All it took was a look from him or a kiss. His touch could make her cast aside her doubts and principles. Was he her enemy or her lover? She didn’t know.
It was this place. The situation. It was messing with her head, toying with her emotions. Screwing up her judgment.
Her fingers curled around the curtain, wrinkling it.
She’d looked through his notebook.
She’d spied on him while he’d been sleeping. She’d had every reason in the world, but now remorse was making her sick. She’d only had the nerve to flip through a few pages, and she hadn’t understood anything she’d seen. It was all in some programming language. The only things she recognised were the equations from Dr Walters’s economics book.
That had confused her even more.
What was he up to? He’d already been convicted of a financial scheme. Was he pompous enough to try again? Or was he simply trying to catch up at work? Wolfe Pack did specialise in market analysis software.
She rested her forehead against the window and the chill felt good against her warm face.
It didn’t matter. Justified or not, she felt terrible. She was no Mata Hari. She couldn’t continue like this.
Why did she have to respond to him the way she did? She wanted him, regardless of his crimes – and she’d been one of his victims. Was there a part of her, deep down, that recognised something good in him? Was it possible he was telling the truth? Why did she find herself wishing that more and more when a court of law had already decided otherwise?
The phone rang before she could find an answer. Moving back to her desk, she picked up her cell. Her face flared when she saw the caller’s ID. Letting out a puff of air, she answered. ‘Hi, Mom.’
‘Hi, baby. Have you seen the news?’
Her attention focused. Her mother’s voice had an edge.
‘No, I’ve been working.’ Or trying to. ‘What’s going on?’
‘You’re not going to believe this. Bartholomew Wolfe was spotted again.’
‘Where?’ One word, one name, and Elena’s priorities were back on track. Reaching out, she moved her mouse to wake up her computer. She might be developing soft feelings for the younger Wolfe, but his grandfather was another story. The old man had never faced up to his crimes.
