Page 9 of The Billionaire's One-Night Baby

‘It was a kiss, not an invitation for you to move into my life!’ Jago responded, his eyes reverting to their normal sub-zero silver.

She ground her back teeth together, quite sure enamel was flying from her teeth. ‘I don’t do one-night stands, Le Roux, and I know that’s all you do.’

‘Have you been following my love life, Elodie Kate?’

Oh, he was now starting to annoy her. But, unlike when she was with her picky brides, she didn’t have to keep her sharp tongue behind her teeth. ‘In your dreams, Jago. I don’t care who you sleep with, as long as it’s not me.’

‘Your kiss two minutes ago tells me that statement is a lie. This time, you’re not sad or in need of a distraction. Are you?’

She winced and felt herself flush. Shesowasn’t going to answer that question! Their conversation was getting out of control, and she needed to shut it down. Pronto.

Dodi lifted her nose, spun on her heel and walked over to the front door, flipping the lock to open. She yanked the door wide and gestured for him to leave. ‘Let’s pretend this never happened, Jago,’ she said, injecting a healthy amount of frost into her words.

He took his time walking towards her, reminding Dodi of a stalking cat, leashed power about to erupt. He reached her, looked down at her and then, surprisingly, his mouth twitched in amusement. He dropped his head to speak in her ear. ‘This is far from over, sweetheart.’

CHAPTER THREE

JAGOTHREWHIMSELFinto his brand-new Range Rover Autobiography and scowled at the passing traffic. He pulled his hand down his face, rubbing the palm of his hand along his jaw. What the hell was that?

Stupid question, Le Roux.

That was lust. Flat out, intense desire. Drop-her-to-the-floor-and-take-her-now attraction.

For the past five years, he’d made a conscious effort not to think about Dodi and their kiss, to ignore her as much as possible. But their collision just now—what else could he call it?—blasted through his carefully constructed shields. Thoughts he’d pushed away came rushing back in with the force of a nuclear-powered rocket...

He adored her thick, dark red hair that made him think of Ireland and mystics and magic. Her voice held a hint of gravel, a rasp that deepened when she was turned on, and her eyes were a lovely, strange shade of smoky blue. Or were they wispy grey? Her young, too-thin frame had slid into curves, and her legs went on for ever, legs he wanted to explore with his hands, then his mouth and his tongue.

Jago leaned back in his seat and gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white against the black leather. Annoyingly, he could still taste Dodi on his tongue, almost feel those full, soft lips against his, her nipple spiking the palm of his hand. Today’s kiss had nothing to do with grief, wasn’t a way to ease her sadness. No, what happened earlier was pure, clean desire...

And deeply dangerous.

She was his sister’s friend, someone who’d hovered on the outskirts for years, but here she was, front and centre, in his life. Jago tightened his grip on the steering wheel, holding on so that he didn’t fling himself out of his car, run across the road and finish what they had started. Oh, he’d never force her—he wasn’t, and would never be, that guy—but he knew that a few hot kisses would melt their clothes away.

He wanted that more than he wanted to take his next breath.

He didn’t like feeling so out of control, being at the mercy of his emotions and desires. He operated best when he had mental and emotional guardrails in place, and to keep them erect and functioning meant keeping control.

Kissing Dodi—Dodi herself—blew a series of holes through those barriers. And that was utterly unacceptable. Control was everything.

He’d seen how destructive it was living with a mercurial and volatile personality, so when he’d met Anju he’d known she was exactly what he wanted, what he needed. Someone cool, detached, someone who abhorred drama. From their first date, he’d known their life together would be calm, smooth sailing, unaffected by high emotion. He’d liked her very masculine way of looking at life, that she was always rational.

They hadn’t needed to have intense, soulful conversations—Anju was very like his father in that regard. Theo hadn’t been one to interrogate feelings, to acknowledge hurts, to admit anything in his perfect, perfect world was wrong. His father had the incredible ability to compartmentalise his life, and if a person or a set of circumstances didn’t fit into his worldview he was quickly able to move it into his not-important-enough-to-waste-energy-on box. Anju had been the same, adept at moving on. But, because their relationship was based on mutual respect, equal intelligence, shared priorities, he didn’t feel the need to be constantly on the lookout, waiting and watching with anxiety, and they made their marriage work. Theirs had been a meeting of minds...

Unlike his encounter with Dodi. He felt unhinged, out of control, as if he’d been plugged into an electrical socket. Jago pushed his thumbs and index fingers into his eye sockets, hoping to push away his sudden headache.

Dodi was unexpected, their kiss unanticipated, his world a little shaken.

Jago had no problem admitting he felt uncomfortable with change, with the unforeseen, was easily rattled when situations didn’t play out as expected. He’d spent his childhood and teenage years trying to anticipate trouble, trying to prepare for a change in his mercurial father’s mood. Overanalysing everything in an attempt to avoid emotional meltdowns from his father. That was why Anju had been perfect for him. She was constantly calm, effortlessly undramatic. She’d been a respite from a stormy life spent with his father.

The hoot of a car horn, then the shouts of a taxi driver half falling out of his window in an attempt to attract some customers, jerked Jago back to the present. How had he gone from thinking about his volcano-hot encounter with Dodi to thinking of his past, his father and his wife? He must be more stressed than he thought. Tired too.

But if being around Dodi triggered these reminiscences then maybe it was better if he avoided her from now on. They’d had little to do with each other since they met. Surely they could carry on that fine tradition?

Except that he and Micah were part of the wedding party, Dodi was Thadie’s maid of honour and they’d have to be in each other’s company more than usual in the build-up to the wedding. Thadie’s engagement party, delayed because of Clyde’s work commitments, was this coming Saturday, then there were the hen and stag parties, both of which he’d have to attend.

He’d rather shove a lump of burning coal in his eye.

But his non-appearance would hurt Thadie, and he refused to do that. He’d do anything and everything for his siblings.

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