Love Islands: Red-Hot Sunsets. Jane Porter
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‘A pleasant holiday?’ Her breathing was ragged and her imagination, released to run wild, was coming up with all sorts of giddying scenarios.
Lucas had the grace to flush before shrugging. ‘I assure you that your accommodation will be of the highest quality. All you need bring with you are your clothes. You will be permitted to return to your house or flat, or wherever it is you live, so that you can pack what you need.’
‘Where on earth will I be going? This is mad.’
‘I’ve put the alternative on the table.’ Lucas shrugged elegantly.
‘But where will I be put?’
‘To be decided. There are a number of options. Suffice to say that you won’t need to bring winter gear.’ In truth, he hadn’t given this a great deal of thought. His plan had been to delegate to someone else the responsibility of babysitting the headache that had arisen.
Now, however, babysitting her himself was looking good.
Why send a boy to do a man’s job? She was lippy, argumentative, stubborn, in short as unpredictable as a keg of dynamite, and he couldn’t trust any of his guys to know how to handle her.
She was also dangerously pretty and had no qualms when it came to having fun with a married guy. She said otherwise, but the jury was out on that one.
Dangerously pretty, rebellious and lacking in a moral compass was a recipe for disaster. Lucas looked at her with veiled, brooding speculation. He frankly couldn’t think of anyone who would be able to handle this. He had planned to disappear for a week or so to consolidate the finer details of the deal, without fear of constant interruption, and this had become even more pressing since the breach in security. He could easily kill two birds with one stone, rather than delegating the job and then wasting his time wondering whether the task would go belly up.
‘So, to cut to the chase, Miss Brennan...’ He buzzed and was connected through to his PA. In a fog of sick confusion, and with the distinct feeling of being chucked into a tumble drier with the cycle turned to maximum spin, Katy was aware of him instructing the woman who had escorted her to his office to join them in fifteen minutes.
‘Yes?’ she said weakly.
‘Vicky, my secretary, is going to accompany you back to...wherever you live...and she will supervise your immediate packing of clothes to take with you. Likewise, she will oversee whatever phone calls you feel you have to make to your friends. Needless to say, these will have to be cleared with her.’
‘This is ridiculous. I feel as though I’m starring in a low-grade spy movie.’
‘Don’t be dramatic, Miss Brennan. I’m taking some simple precautions to safeguard my business interests. Carrying on; once you have your bags packed and you’ve made a couple of calls, you will be chauffeured back here.’
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Feel free.’
‘Are you always this...cold?’
‘Are you always this outspoken?’ Eyes as black as night clashed with emerald-green. Katy felt something shiver inside her and suddenly, inexplicably, she was aware of her body in a way she had never been in her life before. It felt heavy yet acutely sensitive, tingly and hot, aching as though her limbs had turned to lead.
Her mouth went dry and for a few seconds her mind actually went completely blank. ‘I think that, if I have something to say, then why shouldn’t I? As long as I’m not being offensive to anyone, we’re all entitled to our opinions.’ She paused and tilted her chin at a challenging angle. ‘To answer your question.’
Lucas grunted. Not even the high-powered women who entered and exited his life made a habit of disagreeing with him, and they certainly never criticised. No one did.
‘And to answer yours,’ he said coolly, ‘I’m cold when the occasion demands. You’re not here on a social visit. You’re here because a situation has arisen that requires to be dealt with and you’re the root cause of the situation. Trust me, Miss Brennan, I’m the opposite of cold, given the right circumstances.’
And then he smiled, a long, slow, lazy smile and her senses shot into frantic overdrive. She licked her lips and her body stiffened as she leant forward in the chair, clutching the sides like a drowning person clutches a lifebelt.
That smile.
It seemed to insinuate into parts of her that she hadn’t known existed, and it took a lot of effort actually to remember that the man was frankly insulting her and that sexy smile was not directed at her. Whoever he was thinking of—his current girlfriend, no doubt—had instigated that smile.
Were he to direct a smile at her, it would probably turn her to stone.
‘So you stuff me away somewhere...’ She finally found her voice and thankfully sounded as composed as he did. ‘On a two week holiday, probably with those bodyguards of yours who brought me from the office, where I won’t be allowed to do anything at all because I’ll be minus my mobile phone and minus my computer. And, when you’re done with your deal, you might just pop back and collect me, provided I’ve survived the experience.’
Lucas clicked his tongue impatiently. ‘There’s no need to be so dramatic.’ He raked his fingers through his hair and debated whether he should have taken a slightly different approach.
Nope. He had taken the only possible approach. It just so happened that he was dealing with someone whose feet were not planted on the ground the way his were.
‘The bodyguards won’t be there.’
‘No, I suppose it would be a little chancy to stuff me away with men I don’t know. Not that it’ll make a scrap of difference whether your henchmen are male or female. I’ll still be locked away like a prisoner in a cell with the key thrown away.’
Lucas inhaled deeply and slowly, and hung on to a temper that was never, ever lost. ‘No henchmen,’ he intoned through gritted teeth. ‘You’re going to be with me. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to keep an eye on you.’
Not without being mauled to death in the process.
‘With you?’ Shot through with an electrifying awareness of him, her heart sped up, sending the blood pulsing hotly through her veins and making it difficult to catch her breath. Trapped somewhere with him? And yet the thought, which should have filled her with unremitting horror, kick-started a dark, insurgent curiosity that frankly terrified her.
‘I have no intention of having any interaction with you at all. You will simply be my responsibility for a fortnight and I will make sure that no contact is made with any outside parties until the deal is signed, sealed and delivered. And please don’t tell me the prospect of being without a mobile phone or computer for a handful of days amounts to nothing short of torture, an experience which you may or may not survive! It is possible to live without gadgets for a fortnight.’
‘Could you?’ But her rebellious mind was somewhere else, somewhere she felt it shouldn’t be.
‘This isn’t about me. Bring whatever books you want, or embroidery, or whatever