The Debt / Cross My Hart. Clare Connelly

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The Debt / Cross My Hart - Clare Connelly Mills & Boon Dare

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gritted my teeth, annoyed that I’d let myself get so distracted.

      ‘Of course,’ I said, left with no other option but to agree. ‘That sounds like a great idea. I’ll bring her along.’

      ‘Excellent. I’ll look forward to it.’

      I disconnected the call and shoved the phone into my back pocket, my already foul mood turning even fouler.

      Wonderful. What the fuck was I going to do now? I didn’t have a girlfriend, let alone a serious one, and I didn’t want one, either. Wives and kids were for other men. I was too busy and too damn selfish for either, and people had to take me as I came or not at all.

      Except Delaney wasn’t taking me as I came. He wanted me to bring my non-existent serious girlfriend to meet him and I’d agreed purely so I could buy his fucking islands.

      My plan to sabotage Dumont was getting more and more complicated by the second.

      Down in the street outside, Ellie had shoved the cloth into her pocket and was now moving to the driver’s door. She glanced up at the hotel briefly but I couldn’t see her face. She must not have seen me, either, because she looked away, getting into the car once more.

      I had a day full of meetings before I flew back to London that evening, and no time to talk to a temporary staff member about the sexual encounter we’d had the day before. Certainly no time to obsess about it the way I was doing now.

      Christ, it was ridiculous. I’d double-check she was fine when I went downstairs, but then I’d ignore her the way I should have done the day before.

      She’d be gone by tomorrow anyway.

      I turned away, grabbed my jacket, laptop and the duffel bag that was the only item of luggage I’d brought with me, then went downstairs to check out.

      Ten minutes later I strode out of the hotel and, sure enough, Ellie was already out of the car, hurrying around to open my door for me.

      I’d planned to simply walk past her and get in, but for some reason I paused, looking down into her pretty face, searching for I didn’t know what.

      ‘Good morning, Mr Evans,’ she said chirpily, giving me the same jaunty smile as the day before.

      And it irritated me just as much.

      Because there was no trace of the husk in her voice that I’d heard when I’d touched her. No sign of the blush in her cheeks and the gold flames in her eyes that I’d seen as I’d slid my hands between her thighs, the wet heat of her pussy against my fingers.

      ‘Good morning, Miss Little.’ I narrowed my gaze, scanning her for any signs of the upset I was sure I’d sensed the day before. For any sign of acknowledgement of what had happened between us at all. ‘How are you feeling?’

      ‘Box of birds, thanks.’ Her expression was resolutely cheerful.

      I tried not to scowl. ‘You slept well?’

      ‘Fantastically.’

      Damn woman.

      It was ridiculous to be annoyed at her cheeriness, though. Because it was good she wasn’t upset. I didn’t want her to be, after all.

       But you don’t want her to act as if nothing happened between you, either, right?

      Bullshit. What did I care? The sex between us had been good, yet nothing more was going to come of it. I was flying back to London tonight and she would be driving for someone else and that would be that.

      I’d have Bill back at the wheel by tomorrow.

      ‘And you?’ A small crease appeared between her brows as she studied me. ‘Did you sleep well?’

      I lost the battle against irritation and scowled. ‘I don’t appreciate small talk, Miss Little. Keep it to a minimum, please.’

      Her mouth opened, but I’d already turned away, getting into the car before she could speak.

      It was churlish of me to take my temper out on her, but too bad. I was churlish, and petty, too. Selfish to boot. I embraced my faults honestly at least, unlike others who pretended they were better, all the while being just as deeply flawed as I was.

      Whatever. She’d be glad she only had one more day of putting up with me.

      After she’d shut the door, I got out my laptop and fired it up, hoping to distract myself by dealing with the mountain of emails I got every day.

      It turned out to be pretty effective and I’d been working a good five minutes before I realised that the car wasn’t moving.

      I looked up from the screen and, sure enough, we were still sitting right outside my hotel, while Ellie stared at me in the rear-view mirror.

      ‘You do know I have a meeting in twenty minutes I have to get to, don’t you?’ I snapped.

      Her small, pointed chin lifted, green gleaming in her eyes. ‘You do know that you don’t have to be an arsehole, don’t you?’

      People didn’t call me on my behaviour normally; I was too rich, too powerful. Certainly they never called me on it the way Ellie was doing right now.

      I didn’t like it.

       Perhaps because you know already that you’re acting like a prick?

      My temper pulled on the leash I kept it on, growling and snapping like a beast. Of course I was acting like a prick. I always acted like a prick. Did she really expect anything different from me just because we’d had sex?

       She probably expects you to act like a human being and not a petty bastard.

      I gritted my teeth, glowering at her. ‘What? You don’t like me snapping at you? Too bad. I snap at everyone. Don’t take it personally.’

      Her jaunty smile had vanished and I was bastard enough to be happy about it. ‘Would it kill you to be nice? Even for a second?’

      ‘Yes,’ I growled.

      There was a very disapproving silence.

      ‘What?’ I grumbled bad-temperedly, not sure why I was conceding this to her. ‘You want an apology?’

      The expression on her face was uncompromising; of course she wanted a fucking apology.

      I let out a breath. I never apologised, not to anyone, not after spending most of my childhood feeling as if I had to apologise for my very existence. And certainly not after I’d discovered how much power anger and not giving a shit gave me.

      But for some reason, I gave a shit now.

      ‘I’m sorry for snapping at you,’ I said, graceless and brusque. ‘There. Happy?’

      She frowned at me. ‘Are you angry because I didn’t come up to your room last night?’

      The question was unexpected

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