firmed. ‘No.’
Pity, because Jaxon would have liked to know more—a lot more!—about Stazy’s personal life. ‘Most of the actresses I’ve worked with would be insulted if I didn’t mention their appearance at least once a day.’
Stazy shot him an impatient frown. ‘Well, I assure you in my case it isn’t necessary. Or appreciated.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘I thought all women liked to receive compliments?’
‘I would rather be complimented on my academic ability than the way I look,’ she stated primly.
Jaxon might have been more convinced of that if Stazy’s hand hadn’t trembled slightly as she picked up her glass and took a sip of the red wine. ‘That’s a little difficult for me to do when I know next to nothing about your academic ability—other than you’re obviously good at what you do—but I can clearly see how beautiful you look in that red dress.’
Those green eyes darkened. ‘We aren’t out on a date, Jaxon, and no amount of compliments from you is going to result in the two of us ending up in bed together at the end of the evening, either—Damn, damn, damn!’ she muttered, with an accusing glare in his direction as the butler returned to the dining room just in time to hear that last outburst.
Jaxon barely managed to keep his humour in check as Stazy studiously avoided so much as looking at him again as Little hastily served their food before beating an even hastier retreat. ‘Guess what the gossip in the kitchen is going to be about later this evening …’ he murmured ruefully.
‘This isn’t funny, Jaxon,’ she bit out agitatedly. ‘Little has worked for my grandfather for years. I’ve known him all my life. And now he’s going to think that I—that we—’ She broke off with a disbelieving shake of her head.
‘Oh, cheer up, Stazy.’ Jaxon smiled unconcernedly. ‘Look on the bright side—at least I now know where I stand in regard to the possibility of sharing your bed tonight. With any luck, after hearing your last remark, Little will decide to put lighted candles on the dinner table for us tomorrow evening, in an attempt to heat up the romance!’
Much as she hated to admit it, Stazy knew she didn’t need any ‘heating up’ where this man was concerned! And considering it was now July, and the evenings stayed light until after ten o’clock at night, she didn’t think there was much chance of any candles appearing on the dinner table—tomorrow night or any other. In fact it was still so light at the moment that the curtains hadn’t even been drawn over the floor-to-ceiling windows yet, and the view of a beautiful sunset was certainly adding to the air of romance.
Whatever cutting reply Stazy might have wanted to make to Jaxon’s suggestion was delayed as Little returned with a laden tray, his face completely expressionless as he served their main course without meeting the gaze of either one of them before quietly departing again.
‘You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?’ Stazy eyed Jaxon impatiently as he grinned across the table at her.
Jaxon chuckled softly. ‘So would you be if you would just lighten up a little. Oh, come on, Stazy—just think about it for a minute and then admit it was funny,’ he cajoled irritably as she continued to frown.
‘I’ll admit no such thing! You—’
‘Ever heard the saying about the lady protesting too much …?’ He raised mocking brows. ‘I’ve been told that when a lady does that, it usually means she wants you to do the opposite of what she’s saying.’
‘Whoever told you that was an idiot!’ She gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘And if you weren’t my grandfather’s guest I would ask you to leave!’
‘Pity about that, isn’t it?’ he murmured dryly.
Stazy threw her napkin down on the tabletop before standing up and moving away from the table. ‘If you will excuse me—’
‘No.’
She stilled. ‘What do you mean, no?’
‘Exactly what I said—no.’ The humour had gone from Jaxon’s voice and expression, and there was a dark scowl on his brow as he threw down his own napkin before standing up to move purposefully around the table towards her.
Stazy raised a protesting hand even as she instinctively took a step backwards—only to find herself trapped between a looming Jaxon in front of her and a glass cabinet containing china ornaments behind her. ‘Stop this right now, Jaxon—’
‘Believe me, I haven’t even started yet,’ he growled, a nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw as he towered over her. ‘In fact I think maybe we should just get this over with and then maybe we can move on!’ he muttered impatiently.
Stazy looked up at him with startled eyes. ‘Get what over with …?’
He gave a shake of his head and lifted his arms to place them either side of her head so that his hands rested on the doors of cabinet behind her, his body almost, but not quite, touching hers. ‘For some reason you seem to have decided that at some time during my stay here I’m going to try and seduce you into my bed, so I thought we might as well make a start!’
‘You—’ Stazy’s protest came to an abrupt end as she realised that lifting her hands and placing them against Jaxon’s chest, with the intention of pushing him away from her, had been a bad idea. A very bad idea.
Her hands lingered. His chest felt very warm to her touch through the soft material of his shirt—like steel encased in velvet as his muscles flexed beneath her fingers. The smell of his cologne—cinnamon and sandalwood—combined with hot, hot male was almost overwhelming to the senses.
Almost?
Stazy ceased to breathe at all as she stared up at Jaxon with wide, apprehensive eyes. Was he right? Had she been ‘protesting too much’? When in reality she had been longing for this to happen?
God, yes …!
Much as it pained her to admit it, Stazy knew she had thought about Jaxon far too often for comfort in the last six weeks. Damn it, she had even fantasised earlier about what it would be like to be naked with Jaxon, making love with him.
But wanting something and getting it weren’t the same things, were they? For instance she had wanted an expensive microscope when she was ten years old—had been convinced at the time that she intended to be a medical doctor when she was older. Her parents had bought her a less expensive microscope, equally convinced that it was just a fad she was going through, with the promise of buying her the more expensive microscope one day if she ever did become a doctor.
Maybe not the best analogy, but Stazy no more needed Jaxon in her bed now than she had really needed that very expensive microscope nineteen years ago.
In other words, allowing Jaxon Wilder to kiss her would be an extravagance her emotions just didn’t want or need!
Stazy liked her life ordered. Structured. Safe!
Most of all safe.
She had learnt at a very young age that caring for someone, loving them, needing a special someone in your life, was a guarantee of pain in the future when that person either left or—worse—died. As her parents
