Page 54 of Dangerous Temptation
A muscle in his jaw flexed. With his stubbly beard, it made him look ruthless.
She sighed and shied away from that piercing gaze. ‘The same as you, OK? The truth is that I needed to be here. I needed to plan. Andrage.’
She waited for the flash of anger, but her stomach squeezed when she saw what was in his eyes. He still guarded his thoughts and emotions like a wolf defending its den, but desire shone dark and clear. Only this time it wasn’t purely sexual. The wanting went deeper. To yearning.
‘Stay,’ he finally said, his voice raspy.
She’d known that, with them, dinner couldn’t just be dinner.
He shook his head and his thumb rubbed over her ear. ‘Just … stay.’
Chapter Nine
When Elena awoke the next day, she was alone in Alex’s bed. The room was quiet. The door to the office was closed and her clothes had been picked up off the floor. They were folded on the chair in the corner of the room and an extra blanket had been spread over her. Good thing. The air had a nip to it and all she was wearing was a T-shirt he’d loaned her. The bed wasn’t as warm without him.
She curled into the pillow as she surveyed the weather outside. The sun was hidden again amongst the clouds, but she could tell she’d slept later than usual. Her toes pointed as she stretched. She didn’t think she’d moved all night long. She barely remembered putting her head on the pillow and curling up in Alex’s arms.
Her hand settled against her stomach as she watched a hawk soar against the slate-coloured clouds. They hadn’t made love. They’d simply slept together. There’d been a strain in the air, but not with each other. He still seemed angry about something. He was adept at hiding his feelings and protecting his thoughts, but that much was clear. He’d held her to his side protectively. Almost possessively.
She couldn’t believe she hadn’t heard him get up.
She glanced to his side of the bed and spotted a note. Rolling over, she skimmed the brisk masculine handwriting. It made her come awake fast. He was working on her computer.
She flipped back the covers, got up and headed to the shower. She couldn’t laze around when he was doing that. Already she was worried about whether he’d be able to save her files.
And whether he’d look through them.
After a quick rinse, she got dressed in the clothes she’d worn the day before and made the bed. Looking around, she realised she had nothing to do. She didn’t want to go up to the tech room. Seeing her computer in bits was more than she could take. She rubbed her hands against her thighs. She couldn’t dwell on this. She needed to do something.
She went down to the kitchen and was happy to find Marta.
‘Good morning, ma’am.’ It came as no surprise that the cook was a morning person.
‘Good morning, Marta.’
‘You look all pink-cheeked and refreshed.’ The welcoming smile on the woman’s face turned a bit lopsided.
Elena’s cheeks turned pinker. There was no way to hide the fact that she’d spent the night. ‘I slept well.’
‘Would you like some breakfast?’ the cook asked as she flipped a piece of bread on the hissing skillet in front of her. ‘I’m making French toast.’
The scent of cinnamon made Elena’s stomach growl. She hadn’t eaten much of the pizza last night. ‘That sounds wonderful.’
Marta grinned at the rumble and pointed to the counter with her spatula. ‘There’s some fresh fruit to tide you over until it’s ready.’
Elena was reaching for the strawberries when she noticed the newspaper. It appealed to the sense of hominess she was feeling. She hadn’t read news in print since she could remember, but with her computer on the fritz it was the perfect alternative. She climbed onto the barstool and skimmed the front page. The economy was the top headline as it seemed to be every day.
She opened the paper to the next page. Marta slid a plateful of hot French toast in front of her. Not wanting to let it cool, Elena spread butter on the slices and liberally poured on maple syrup. She rolled her eyes in bliss when she took her first bite.
‘Oh, Marta. This is divine.’
The bubbly chef practically beamed. ‘Orange juice or coffee?’
‘Yes, please.’
She’d made it through half the stack before she glanced again at the newspaper. When she did, she stopped with the fork halfway to her mouth. Bartholomew Wolfe stared up at her, haughty and narrow-eyed. It was an article about the possible sighting in Belize.
Her relaxed mood disappeared.
