Page 49 of Billionaire's Matchmaker

“Looking for something?”

She pushed off the floor and sat back on her calves. “My hair clip.”

“On the nightstand. I found it last night.”

If she hadn’t been so intent on escape, she might have found it. “Thank you.” She hurried to her feet; then she grabbed the clip and secured the metal in place, hoping the act might stabilize her ping-ponging emotional state.

“I brought you some coffee.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her, but Rafe waited for her to come to him.

Once she was a few feet from him, she inhaled his masculine scent, unmistakable resolve combined with the spice from his shower.

“You were everything I could imagine.”

There was nothing she could say in response. The evening had revealed parts of herself that she’d been unaware of. “Thank you for the coffee.” She accepted the cup and took a drink, not because she wanted it but because she was desperate to escape the scrutiny. The brew was strong and rich, inviting her to linger, something she dared not do. “I’ll get dressed and call for a ride.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’ll drive you home and take you to work.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

His eyes turned dark, the cold twilight after the sun had set.

“I will see to you, Hope.”

“Mr.—”

“Don’t.” Rafe held up a hand. “Don’t pretend that it didn’t happen, that you’re unaffected, that you didn’t scream my name, beg, then ask for more.”

Coffee nearly spilled over the rim before she steadied her hand.

“It happened. I liked it, and so did you.”

“You’re a client.” She wondered which one of them she was trying to convince.

“And don’t you damn well dare pretend it doesn’t matter.” He closed the distance between them. With aching tenderness, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “We’re two consenting adults who had an amazing scene. Admit it.”

She exhaled. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“Your clothes are downstairs,” he told her. “When would you like to leave?”

Her victory had been too easy to trust it. “Ten minutes?” That was long enough for her to finish the coffee, clean up, and dress.

He nodded. He picked up his coffee cup, pivoted, and headed toward the doorway.

Damn it, she didn’t want him to go.

As if sensing her indecision, he stopped, then turned back to her.

With three steps, he was in front of her. He placed his cup on the nightstand. She remained rooted where she was, and she slumped in relief when he cradled her shoulders.

She was up on her toes again, and he claimed her mouth with ruthless intent, a potent reminder of what she’d offered last night and a glimpse of what part of her hoped he still might demand in future.

When Rafe released her, she was shaken, her mouth bruised from his passion.

With that, he left. If she’d thought she could steady her emotions, she’d been wrong. She sank onto the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around her knees to recover from the storm that was Rafe. It wasn’t until minutes later that she was steady enough to join him downstairs.

Fortunately, he was nowhere in sight.

He’d folded her clothing and stacked it in a neat pile on the bench near her purse. After snatching up her belongings, she dashed into the powder room.

She was pulled together and ready to face him when she emerged from the bathroom, dressed, shoulders squared, wearing mascara and some hot-pink confidence-faking lipstick. She’d tucked last night’s panties into her purse. It was the first time she’d ever gone without underwear, and she feared Rafe would realize it.

Showing there was no end to his surprises, he was standing in front of the stove when she found him. He’d set two plates on the countertop and poured them each a glass of orange juice.

“Morning,” he called out when he noticed her. “Mushrooms, onions, green peppers okay in your omelet?”

The sweet scent of toast filled the air, and oil sizzled in a pan. “I don’t eat breakfast.”

“You need the energy after last night.”

So much for forgetting the events had happened. In a horrible betrayal, her stomach grumbled. “Yes.”

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