he stays put,’ Rogan snapped into his mobile as he strode restlessly up and down in front of the clock-tower, waiting for Elizabeth to rejoin him so they could have lunch together.
‘That’s easier said than done, Rogue—’
‘Just do it!’ Rogan growled, turning to pace back the other way and instantly finding himself face to face with a pale and wide-eyed Elizabeth Brown. ‘Later, Ace,’ he said curtly, before ending the call and dropping his mobile into the back pocket of the black denims he had changed into before coming out.
‘I—Did your meeting go well?’
Rogan gave a hard smile. ‘It would appear that I’m my father’s heir after all, if that’s what you’re asking.’
Colour heightened Elizabeth Brown’s cheeks. ‘It wasn’t.’
‘No?’ he jeered.
‘No.’ She frowned. ‘It’s really none of my business, is it?’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Rogan agreed. In truth, he was surprised—considering the state of their relationship the last fifteen years—that his father had decided to leave everything to him after all. But maybe Brad had considered a dogs’ home—which had probably been his only alternative—slightly less appealing than his own son! ‘Nevertheless, I’m sure you have an opinion on the subject!’
Elizabeth was having to force herself to concentrate on what Rogan was saying. Not easy after overhearing his end of the telephone conversation with someone called Ace!
Just make sure he stays put…
She frowned as she remembered the implacable tone of voice he’d used towards the other man. Rogan was obviously not a man it would be wise to cross!
Or be attracted to…
Unfortunately, Elizabeth suspected it was already too late to warn herself off being attracted to Rogan. Just looking at him sent shivers of awareness up and down her spine. That over-long dark hair. Those dark and piercing eyes. The firm sensuality of his mouth. The lean sensitivity of his hands. The leashed power in that perfectly muscled body…
‘No doubt you have one of those perfect families?’ Rogan Sullivan continued scathingly. ‘Perfect mother. Perfect father. Perfect everything.’
He had no idea! Elizabeth’s family had to be even more dysfunctional than his own!
‘Come on, Liza—’
‘I believe I told you I prefer to be called Elizabeth!’ Her eyes flashed with sudden anger. Her father had always called her Liza, and she certainly wanted no reminders of him.
Rogan glanced at her, irritated with himself because of how attractive he found the way the colour came and went in her cheeks, and the way her eyes sparkled with emotion when she was angry or annoyed—
Whoa!
Elizabeth Brown wasn’t his type. At all. Rogan preferred his women to be tall, soft and feminine. Women who knew and accepted that a relationship with him had no future. He wanted nothing to do with a woman who was short and prickly, a university lecturer immersed up to her pretty neck in history, whose ideal was no doubt the house with the picket fence and two point four children!
All the same, Rogan couldn’t stop himself from flirting with her just a little, to see how uncomfortable—and beautiful—it made her. He deliberately took a step closer, crowding her. ‘Liza is so much more—friendly, don’t you think… ?’ he murmured huskily.
Those deep blue eyes narrowed to warning slits. ‘I have no wish to be friendly with a man who can speak to people like you just did on your phone,’ she said scornfully.
Rogan’s eyes widened. So Dr Elizabeth Brown had overheard part of his conversation with Ace, had she? And she’d obviously drawn her own conclusions from it too. No doubt helped along by an over-active imagination from reading too many vampire books!
Well, Rogan had ceased even trying to explain himself a long time ago—least of all to a woman as unbending as this one. ‘What can I say?’ He gave an unconcerned shrug. ‘Sometimes a little aggression is necessary when people won’t do as they’re told the first time.’
Elizabeth repressed a shudder of apprehension at the callousness of his tone. Her first impression of this man last night had been the correct one after all; he really was dangerous!
‘Don’t look so worried, Elizabeth,’ Rogan Sullivan murmured softly. ‘The only time I enjoy hearing a woman scream is in bed… ’
The erotic images that statement instantly conjured into Elizabeth’s head, of a lithe, bronzed and naked body entwined with a much paler and softer one, caused the colour to once again burn hotly in her cheeks.
She turned away. ‘Perhaps we should get back to Sullivan House after all.’
‘Running scared, Elizabeth?’
‘Of you?’ Her eyes glittered as she glared at him. ‘I hardly think so!’
‘You could have fooled me!’ Rogan gave her another one of those mocking smiles. ‘We’re only going to have lunch, Elizabeth, we’re not going out on a date together.’
She hadn’t imagined for one moment that their lunch together could be called a date. It was just a little disconcerting—more than a little, if she were brutally honest with herself—to think of spending time alone in a restaurant with a man who was so blatantly, breathtakingly male that just looking at him made even her teeth ache in awareness!
It was a raw attraction that was completely corroborated at that moment, as a woman passing by on the pavement happened to glance casually their way—only for her attention to suddenly become riveted on Rogan, a flush warming her cheeks as he shot her a lazy smile.
Rogan Sullivan wasn’t just dangerous—he was utterly lethal!
Elizabeth scowled. ‘I’m not hungry after all,’ she snapped. ‘It must be all that aggressive talk earlier on—you’re nothing but a bully!’ she added challengingly.
Rogan looked at her rigidly disapproving face and chose not to explain his firm orders to Ace about making sure Ricky stayed put—after all, Ricky didn’t know what was good for him.
‘Hasn’t affected my appetite,’ Rogan assured her blithely, giving her no more opportunity to disagree with him as he took a firm hold of her arm and strode forcefully towards the Bell and Sceptre Hotel, across the other side of the square.
‘So, what shall we talk about?’ Elizabeth said dryly to Rogan once they were seated at a table in the saloon bar of the hotel where he had decided they were having lunch.
He sat back against the bench seat, seemingly unaware of the interested female stares that had been coming his way ever since he had gone up to the crowded bar to order their food.
Including Elizabeth’s own more surreptitious glances!
Had she ever been this physically aware of a man before? Not that she could remember. But she was so aware of Rogan, on so many levels, that she felt she could see and hear practically nothing else but
