Page 15 of Undoing His Innocent Enemy (Hot Winter Escapes)

His staggeringly beautiful home seemed to have all the mod cons and then some, but even so, it had to be dangerous, living so far out in the Arctic Circle all on your own.

Why had he hidden himself away in such a remote location? She’d racked her brains all day, trying to remember the details of Logan Coltan’s story, which Issi had told her months ago during one of their breaks. She had a vague recollection of a tragedy—surrounding his parents’ deaths when he’d been a boy... And the huge fortune in the US—built on his great-grandfather’s wealth as some kind of railway baron—which he had become the sole heir to... But nothing more.

Why had he disappeared from the world, and built his very own Fortress? Rather than taking his place as the only surviving member of the Colton dynasty?

The compassion she’d felt earlier pressed against her chest. But surely, it would be foolish to feel sympathy for this hard man, as his solitary life appeared to be one he had not only chosen, but guarded zealously. Even so she couldn’t help wondering what could possibly have happened to him to make him choose to starve himself of human companionship so completely.

Who did that?

He placed the spoon abruptly in the bowl, then his head rose. And she found herself trapped in that laser-sharp gaze again, caught staring at him.

The intensity in his expression unnerved her, making her hopelessly aware of the sensations pulsing under her skin.

But she refused to detach her gaze from his or feel guilty for watching him.

She lifted the bottle of wine and poured herself a generous glass. She wasn’t a big drinker but right now she needed something to calm nerves that were fizzing and sparking and doing nothing to cool the hot weight in her belly.

She took a hasty gulp, then finally found her manners. ‘Would you like a glass of your own wine?’

He seemed to consider the question then gave a slight dip of his head.

I’ll take that as a yes.

She filled his glass. He took a sip of the fruity wine, continuing to watch her unabashed over the rim, but as usual he felt no need to fill the silence.

Unlike her.

‘Was it all right?’ She nodded towards his empty bowl. ‘The stew?’

‘Yes.’ His husky voice seemed to scrape over her skin in the semi-darkness.

‘That’s grand. I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ she said, then forced herself to shut up.

But so many questions burned on her tongue. Questions that had been swirling in her head all day like the storm outside as she’d discovered what she could about him from his home. The silence seemed to build in intensity, throbbing between them—not unlike the hot weight in her abdomen. Eventually she couldn’t prevent herself from asking the most pressing one.

‘Do you live here entirely alone?’

His eyes narrowed, the familiar cynicism making the pale blue of his irises look even more steely than usual. And she immediately wished she could grab the question back. She didn’t want to ruin the truce she’d worked so hard to earn.

‘Forget I asked,’ she said.

At exactly the same time as he said, ‘Yes.’

She blinked, surprised he had given her an answer. She already knew that he had never been seen in Saariselkä, which was Finland’s northernmost town, and had to be well over fifty miles to the south if her calculations were correct. How did he even get his supplies?

She knew she really shouldn’t push her luck, but the next question spilled out regardless. ‘Don’t you get lonely? Being so far from civilisation?’

His brows rose, as if the question made no sense to him. ‘No.’

But then his gaze raked over her face, the penetrating look one that had her cheeks burning. And she had the weird sensation that even though he had told her the truth, he might not be entirely sure of his answer. Awareness—and that tangible spark of attraction she had felt when his fingers had brushed hers on the bowl—sizzled in the air between them.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. But she couldn’t seem to control the brutal pulse of awareness. His eyes darkened as his gaze dropped to her mouth. She licked her lips, feeling his perusal like a physical caress.

What was he thinking? Surely, he must be able to feel it, too? Whateveritwas... Because she’d never felt like this before... Certainly never had to struggle to control her response to a man.

And if it was desire, what on earth were they supposed to do about it?

She jumped up, suddenly desperate to break the tension. But as she went to lift his empty bowl, intending to load it into the state-of-the-art dishwasher, he snagged her wrist.

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