Page 14 of The Couple Behind the Headlines

But that didn’t stop the blush creeping into her cheeks. Nor did it stop his gaze dipping to her mouth, where the tip of her tongue darted out to sweep along her lower lip.

His body contracted with a sudden powerful wave of desire. The air inside the taxi thickened and vibrated with an almost tangible tension and a series of X-rated images slammed into his head. Of Imogen panting and writhing as he moved on top of her, with her, buried deep inside her. Having sex. Great sex.

His head went fuzzy, his mouth went dry and his pulse thundered. The urge to haul her into his arms and set about making the fantasy a reality took him completely by surprise and he had to curl his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching for her.

‘Which only goes to prove my next point.’

As the cool tone of her voice filtered into his head, Jack blinked and willed his pulse to slow down.

Point? What point? He could barely remember his own name, let alone think about any point. He was rock hard and aching. He’d never felt such an overwhelming need to possess, such a primitive urge to claim. And it scared the living daylights out of him.

Telling himself not to be absurd, that physical attraction—even when it involved s

omeone who had it in for him—was nothing to worry about, he cleared his throat. He ran his hands through his hair. Went to adjust the knot of his tie before remembering that he’d already removed it.

‘Which is?’ he said, eventually folding his arms across his chest and hoping he sounded calmer than he felt.

‘I’ve heard that you’re arrogant and presumptuous.’

What?

Jack frowned as Imogen paused and raised her eyebrows, evidently waiting for some kind of response. What was she expecting him to do? Apologise? Deny it? Or confirm she was right?

‘Oh, please don’t hold back on my account,’ he said dryly, having no intention of doing any of that and deciding to see what else she threw at him before responding.

She smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘I wasn’t going to.’

‘Then do continue.’

‘I’ve also heard that you’re callous, cold and emotionally bankrupt.’

Jack kept a neutral expression fixed to his face but behind it he was reeling. Forget knife in the singular. Imogen was attacking him with an entire kitchen drawer full of the things, and to his surprise her accusations stung.

Being called arrogant and presumptuous he could just about deal with. There might even have been a smidgeon of truth in the charges, although he’d have preferred ‘confident’ and ‘spotting an opportunity and taking it’.

But callous, cold and emotionally bankrupt? That was going too far. He wasn’t either callous or cold. And so what if he kept his emotions to himself? Not everyone liked flaunting them left, right and centre.

‘I didn’t realise dinner called for much emotional depth,’ he said, his voice not betraying a hint of what he was thinking.

‘I doubt anything you do calls for much emotional depth,’ she said with faint amusement that did nothing to soften what sounded rather like an insult.

And where had she got this stuff from anyway? ‘You don’t even know me.’

‘I know men like you.’

‘Men like me?’ The idea he was a type was oddly distasteful. And wrong.

‘OK,’ she conceded. ‘Men with your reputation.’

Jack went still. ‘That’s what you’re basing your accusations on?’ he said deceptively mildly. ‘Gossip, rumour and hearsay?’

She shrugged. ‘It’s as good a place to start as any.’

No, it wasn’t. He wasn’t nearly as notorious as his reputation liked to make out. Not that he’d ever done anything to contradict it. Most of the time it suited him to have people—women especially—think the worst of him. Then unattainable expectations were less likely to arise. On either side.

Now, however, having people—Imogen—think the worst of him didn’t seem appealing at all.

‘You seem to have judged me exceptionally quickly,’ he said, unaccountably irritated by the notion because it had never bothered him before.

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