Page 8 of Hidden Heir With His Housekeeper

He shifted into gear and roared away from the kerb.

The lights of old warehouses which had been turned into luxury flats flickered over the car’s new paintwork as they drove along the river. These same warehouses had been derelict when he was a boy, the broken glass and rubble becoming his own personal adventure playground. Their newly pointed facades and gleaming glasswork reminded him he was no longer that feral kid, but a rich man in control of his own destiny.

So what if he wanted Beatrice Medford...a lot? Didn’t mean he needed her. At all.

CHAPTER TWO

MASONSLOTTEDTHESUV into one of his reserved spaces in Foxx Suites’ underground car park. Anticipation and arousal charged through his veins as he turned to his passenger—which was daft, the woman had agreed to a nightcap, nothing more.

She hadn’t spoken during the ten-minute drive from Bermondsey. Perhaps she was regretting what he had guessed was a rash decision the minute she’d made it.

He’d seen the spark of rebellion in her eyes, and had found it almost as captivating as the flush still heating those high cheekbones. Her bright blue eyes were sheened with an intoxicating combination of determination... And innocence.

Whatwasthat about? Surely it had to be a trick of the light? Or the clever glitter of make-up which made her eyes look so huge?

Because she couldn’t be innocent. She was in her twenties by his reckoning, and had been engaged to Jack Wolfe once upon a time. And if there was one thing he knew about Wolfe, the guy wasn’t the type to offer marriage without making sure he was compatible with his fiancée in bed.

‘If you’ve changed your mind, I’ll take you home,’ he said abruptly, irritated by the wave of disappointment... And the spurt of jealousy at the thought she had once belonged to Wolfe.

Why should he care? He wasn’t the possessive type.

And he preferred his women to have experience, to know what they wanted, so he could give it to them. Assuming, of course, he was going to get lucky tonight, which did not look likely any more, when her teeth dug into her bottom lip.

Heat surged into his groin, which annoyed him more.

He shifted in his seat, perplexed to realise her indecision was actually turning him on more, not less.

‘I don’t want to go home,’ she said.

He nodded. And the need did a victory lap in his groin.

Climbing out of the car, he took a moment to get a hold of himself. He wasn’t an untried kid. Not any more. And he didn’t lose his cool with women, no matter how captivating or classy they were.

She probably just saw him as a bit of rough. A guy who was much more basic and straightforward than the posh boys she usually dated.

Of course, the fact she’d been engaged to Wolfe meant this wouldn’t be the first time she’d lowered her social standards.

He frowned as he rounded the front of the car.

Stop getting hung up on Wolfe. And the fact she’s a lot posher than you are.

Since when had he ever cared about all that class crap?

He reached the passenger door, intending to open it for her—he could mind his manners if he felt like it—when it swung open and her bare foot appeared.

‘Hey.’ He stepped in front of her before her feet could land on the cold, filthy concrete. ‘Not so fast, Princess.’

Her bright blue gaze snapped to his face. ‘I’m not a princess. I’m merely the daughter of a lord. And not even a very impressive one’

He chuckled. He couldn’t help it. How could she look even more stunning when she was telling him off?

‘Duly noted,’ he said, then lifted her off the seat before she could object.

‘Mason, what are you doing?’ she demanded as he strode towards the lift.

‘Getting you from A to B,’ he said, grinning down at her perturbed face as he inhaled another lungful of the glorious scent he’d noticed in the club. It reminded him of the cupcake stall under the railway arches near where he’d grown up. He’d loved going there every Sunday, to help out Mrs Archer, the nice lady who owned it, so he could earn a few bob and stuff himself with the leftovers she hadn’t sold at the end of the day.

‘Just for the record... I don’t need you to carry me everywhere,’ she said. Awareness surged through him again at her perplexed expression.

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