Page 14 of Sleeping with Her Enemy (49th Floor 2)

“I came out to Centre Island on a field trip when I was a kid—there’s an amusement park there. Some friends and I sneaked away from the group and found ourselves here. When I got home, I did some research—”

“You did some research. How old were you?”

“Eleven. And I put myself on the list that week.”

“Did they know you were eleven?”

He shrugged. “It took nineteen years. Nowadays, I think it’s more like twenty-five or thirty.”

“Oh my God, this is so fascinating.”

“Jeez, if I’d known that real estate would cheer you up so profoundly, we would have skipped the bar and hit some open houses.”

She clapped her hands, taking everything in. “No, this is better!”

He stopped in front of an adorable bright blue cottage surrounded by a slightly overgrown perennial garden. “This is me.” He gestured down the gravel path leading to a tiny front porch. “Welcome home, Strawberry Girl.”

Chapter Four

“Oh, this place is to die for,” Amy said, gazing around as she walked up the path. “I bet this works really well with the ladies.”

Unlocking the door and gesturing for her to precede him inside, Dax just shrugged. Didn’t bother telling her that he hardly ever brought women to this house. He had a perfectly adequate—quite luxurious, actually—condo on the other side. When you were on the island, there was literally no escape. Short of hustling a guest out the door in time for the last ferry at ten fifteen, there was no way for a night in not to turn into a sleepover. And he didn’t like having his hand forced. He’d been there once before, with Allison, and he wasn’t doing it again. Besides, all his real stuff was here, and he didn’t want people pawing through his stuff.

Like Amy was doing right now, in fact, in her annoying Amy-esque way. She had dropped her little handbag on the sofa and was trailing a hand along the mantel, looking at a framed photo he had there. “Your family?”

“Yep.” He came to stand beside her and pointed. “Mom, dad, sister.”

She rested her finger next to his, where it pointed to his sister. “Older or younger?”

“Five years older. Just turned forty.”

Dax waited for the inevitable expression of disbelief or protest that the two couldn’t possibly be related. Kat had their mother’s Chinese features while he, though he had dark coloring, had inherited their British father’s lighter skin and green eyes. When he and his sister were out, even in multicultural Toronto, no one ever believed they were siblings.

“You and she have the same smile,” Amy said.

Well, that was a new one.

“Not that you ever smile.” She moved across the room to examine some paintings hanging on the far wall. He tried not to pay attention to how her hips swayed as she padded barefoot across the room. “Do you have any nieces or nephews?”

“Kat’s eight months pregnant with her first. So, soon.”

She tapped the frame of one of the paintings and shot him a look over her shoulder. The red lipstick was faded—it had taken a beating when he’d kissed her on the boat, as evidenced by the fact that he’d had to wipe a bunch of it off his own mouth, and her hair was windblown from the crossing. It didn’t seem to matter. The disheveled look was good on her. Down, boy. She’s touching your stuff, remember?

“These don’t really seem like you.” She frowned up at the pastel abstracts.

“They aren’t.” The paintings were nice enough, but nothing he normally would have given a second glance. “A neighbor here is an artist, and we islanders are a tight-knit lot.”

“But you had to buy three?”

He shrugged. “She has twins in college.”

She recoiled as if he’d struck her. “Wow. That’s so…nice of you.”

“Anyway,” he said, waving away the compliment…or insult, or whatever it had been. “Art appreciation is not why we’re here.”

“Right.” She turned and fixed those gorgeous blue eyes on him.

He took a step back. Oh, crap. That was not what he’d meant. Nope. Not happening.

She took a step forward, catching her bottom lip with her top teeth. Oh, certain parts of him wanted to go there again, were pleading for just one more taste, but he had to be good.

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