“Yeah, it’s Phil.”
She snatched it to her and immediately turned her back on him. “Phillip? Did Brant explain what happened?” She gave a delicate shudder. “It was awful. I can’t believe someone would do this.” She listened for a moment, then said, “He broke the glass door. The police think …”
She continued to talk, but Brant had stopped listening. And he’d almost stopped breathing. She didn’t know it, but with the morning sun streaming in the room he could see straight through her gossamer robe to the line of her buttocks. God, how he’d love to run his hands over them. They’d be so smooth to his touch.
Giving a silent groan, he leaned his head back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Dammit, he had to stop this. She wasn’t worth the looking … the wanting….
“Brant?”
Did she have to say his name in such a husky voice? As if she was his lover, waiting for him to stir. The next thing she’d be reaching out to touch him….
“Yes?” His voice sounded rough, like the night he’d just had.
“Are you awake?”
“No. I always talk in my sleep,” he mocked and opened his eyes. Disappointment rippled through him when he saw she’d moved out of the sunlight.
Her mouth tightened. “That’s one thing I’ll never find out.”
“No, you won’t, will you?” And suddenly it was the biggest regret of his life. His lips twisted. Okay, that and getting involved with Julia all those years ago. She hadn’t been too innocent when she’d run off and married his brother.
He threw back the sheet and swung his legs over the side of the sofa bed, his black briefs his only covering. “Tell me. Does Phillip ever talk in his sleep?” he asked, forcing himself to remember who this woman belonged to … and what she was about.
Money.
She gave a light laugh. “Only to murmur sweet nothings in my ear.”
An intense jealousy slashed through him. It should have been him who whispered in her ear. Him who lay beside her. Him who made love to her. That’s what felt right. Not her and Phillip. Every minute he grew more certain of it.
He reached for his trousers. God, what was going on here? Why didn’t he suddenly feel right about those two? There was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something important. Yet all he had was a gut feeling he couldn’t shake. And a bloody hunger for Kia Benton that wouldn’t stop.
“Would you like coffee before you go?”
At the crack in her voice he looked up and caught her appraising his bare chest and taut stomach. Despite being newly engaged, the look in her eye said she wanted him.
His muscles immediately tensed as he zipped up and asked the question that hit him from out of nowhere. “How come you didn’t call Phillip last night?” All at once he found it interesting that she hadn’t gone running to her fiancé after the burglary.
She’d been about to turn away, but now her eyelids flickered, as if the question startled her. “What? Er … I didn’t want to worry him.”
“If you were my fiancée, I’d want you to worry me.”
She moistened those oh-so-enticing lips. “You know he was tired and in pain when he left the party.”
“I’d still want to know if you were in danger.”
Her chin angled. “Phillip’s not like you, Brant.”
No, he wasn’t, was he? Phillip was a one-woman man. And that woman was Lynette Kelly, of that Brant was suddenly certain. Ever since he’d seen Phillip’s reaction to his old girlfriend at the Christmas party last night, he’d had this deep nagging feeling. And what about Lynette’s reaction to Phillip? They were both still in love with each other, no doubt about it.
Brant looked at Kia and wondered if she knew. Surely she’d noticed something amiss?
“Forget the coffee,” he rasped as he quickly slipped on his shirt and made a grab for his jacket. He had to get out of here before he did or said something he’d regret. Phillip may be in love with Lynette, but the other man obviously wasn’t prepared to do anything about it. And Kia must be thanking her lucky stars she’d found a man who didn’t give a damn that he was being taken to the cleaners.
Ignoring the tight knot forming in his stomach, he sat down again and began putting on his socks and shoes. “I’ll call a locksmith and get him to fix the door for you.” What he should really do is get someone to lock her up. Only then would men be safe from her beauty and self-seeking ways.
“I’m quite capable of picking up a phone.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t, but I can get it fixed faster. I have connections.”
“What you mean is you’ll offer him more money to fix it today?”
“The company can afford it.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “Don’t be ridiculous. I won’t be letting the company pay for anything.”
His mouth clamped into a thin line. Who was she trying to fool? This was a token protest at best.
“So you’re going to sleep another night with your door wide-open?” He stood up, ready to leave. “I could always come back and use your sofa again.” It was a foolhardy threat. He’d never be able to handle another night without touching her. And he had better things to do with his time.
“I’ll go to a motel.”
His teeth clenched. “Fine and dandy. And when you get home, the rest of your stuff will have been stolen.” Without waiting for a response, he started toward the door. “Someone will be round within the hour.”
“Brant—” she warned, only to have the ring of the telephone interrupt her.
“Answer that,” he said and left the house before she could get another word in. What he found interesting was that she hadn’t mentioned staying at Phillip’s place, when that would be the ideal solution. Perhaps she was holding out for a white wedding, he mused cynically.
Four
Later that day, when Phillip’s attendant knocked on her door to pick her up to take her to the art exhibition, Kia had to take a calming breath before answering. She was furious with Brant over the locksmith he’d sent here. All the names she’d been calling him seemed too tame for the thoughts bubbling in her brain right now.
But instead of showing her feelings, she smoothed her hands down the front of her slim-fitting sleeveless dress and reached for the door handle. She wouldn’t let Brant spoil her afternoon. She’d rather eat rat poison.
“G’day, Kia.”
The breath caught in her throat. The man on the other side of the doorway emitted a sex appeal so potent it cracked through the air like a whip, invisibly wrapping around her body and almost pulling her toward
