Читать книгу A Deal To Mend Their Marriage - Michelle Douglas - Страница 9

CHAPTER TWO

‘JACK, I FIND myself in a bit of a pickle.’

Caro set a piece of cake on the coffee table in front of him, next to a steaming mug of coffee. She’d chosen a honey roll filled with a fat spiral of cream and dusted with glittering crystals of sugar.

Jack stared at it and frowned. ‘Money?’

‘No, not money.’

He picked up his coffee and glanced around. Her flat surprised him. It was so small. Still, it was comfortable. Her clothes weren’t cheap knock-offs either. No, Caro looked as quietly opulent as ever.

She perched on the tub chair opposite him. ‘You seem a little hung up on the money issue.’

Maybe because when they’d first met he hadn’t had any. At least not compared to Caro’s father.

Don’t forget she was disinherited the moment she married you.

She hadn’t so much as blinked an eye at the time. She’d said it didn’t matter. She’d said that given her and her father’s adversarial relationship it was inevitable. And he’d believed her.

He bit back a sigh. Who knew? Maybe she’d even believed the lie back then.

‘Perhaps we should clear that issue up first,’ she continued.

‘You didn’t have to buy cake on my account, you know.’

He wished she hadn’t. Her small acts of courtesy had always taken him off guard and left him all at sea. They’d oozed class and made it plain that she’d had an education in grace and decorum—one that he’d utterly lacked. It had highlighted all the differences between them. He’d lived in fear of unknowingly breaking one of those unknown rules of hers and hurting her.

You hurt her anyway.

And she’d hurt him.

He pushed those thoughts away.

Caro gazed at him and just for a fraction of a second her lips twitched. ‘I didn’t buy cake on your account.’

She forked a mouthful of honey roll to her lips and while she didn’t actually close her eyes in relish, he had a feeling that deep inside herself she did.

‘This cake is very good. Jean-Pierre is a wizard.’

That must be the baker’s name. She’d always taken pains to find out and then use people’s names. He’d found that charming. Once. Now he saw it for what it was—a front.

‘But if you don’t want it please don’t eat it.’

He leaned towards her, his frown deepening. ‘You never used to eat cake.’

‘I know! I can’t believe what I was missing.’ Her eyes twinkled for a moment and her lips lifted, but then she sobered and her face became void of emotion. ‘But people change. Five years ago you wouldn’t have been at all concerned with the threat of me taking you for half of all you owned.’

He’d worked hard during the last five years to make a success of his security and private investigation firm. Such a success, in fact, that if he were still alive even Caro’s father would sit up and take notice. He sat back. It seemed he’d been making money while Caro had been eating cake. It summed them up perfectly.

‘Five years ago I didn’t have anything worth taking, Caro.’

She looked as if she might disagree with him, but after a moment she simply shook her head. ‘Let me waste no further time in putting your mind at rest. I don’t want your money, Jack. I never did. You should know that yesterday I was named as my father’s sole beneficiary.’

Whoa! He straightened. Okay...

‘As we’re still married I expect you could make a successful claim on the estate. Do you wish to?’

His hands clenched to fists. ‘Absolutely not!’

She shrugged and ate more cake. ‘You haven’t changed that much, then. Earlier today I’d have staked the entire estate on you not wanting a penny.’

Damn straight! But her odd belief in him coupled with her utter lack of concern that he could have taken her for a financial ride pricked him. ‘So, this pickle you’re in?’

She set her plate down, clasping her hands to her knees. ‘Jack, I’d like to hire you for a rather...delicate job.’

He tried to hide his shock.

‘But before we continue I’d like an assurance of your discretion and confidentiality.’

‘You wouldn’t have asked me that once.’ She’d have taken it for granted.

‘True, but when you walked away from our marriage you proved my trust in you was misplaced. So I’m asking for an assurance now.’

He glanced down to find his knuckles had turned white. He unclenched his hands and took a deep breath. ‘I should warn you that if this “delicate” matter of yours involves murder or threats of violence then I’m honour-bound to—’

‘Don’t be ridiculous! Of course it doesn’t. Don’t take me for a fool. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a fool.’

He bit back something very rude. Bending down, he pulled the divorce papers he’d had drawn up from his satchel and slapped them onto the coffee table.

‘I don’t want to do a job for you, Caroline. I simply want you to sign the divorce papers and then never to clap eyes on you again.’

Her head rocked back, hurt gleamed in her eyes, and that soft, composed mouth of hers looked so suddenly vulnerable he hated himself for his outburst.

She rose, pressing her hands to her waist. ‘That was unnecessarily rude.’

It had been.

She glanced at her watch. ‘As interesting as this trip down memory lane has been, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I have to be somewhere shortly.’ She picked up the papers. ‘I’ll have my lawyer read over these and then we can get divorce proceedings underway.’

‘And you’ll draw the process out for as long as you can to punish me for refusing this job?’ he drawled, rising too.

Her chin came up. ‘I’ll do nothing of the sort. You can have your divorce, Jack. The sooner the better as far as I’m concerned.’

A weight pressed down on him, trying to crush his chest. It made no sense. She was promising him exactly what he wanted.

With an oath, he sat again.

Caro’s eyes widened. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Finishing my coffee and cake. Sit, Caro.’

‘Really, Jack! I—’

‘It’s hard, seeing you again.’

Her tirade halted before it could begin. She swallowed, her eyes throbbing with the same old confusion and hurt that burned through him.

The intensity of emotion this woman could still arouse disturbed him. It was as if all the hard work he’d put in over the last five years to forget her and get his life back on track could be shattered with nothing more than a word or a look. He couldn’t let that happen. He straightened. He wouldn’t let that happen.

‘No woman has ever made me as happy as you did.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘Or as miserable. I wasn’t expecting the lid to be lifted on all those old memories. It’s made me...testy—and that’s why I said what I said. It was a mean-spirited thing to say. I’m sorry.’

Finally she sat. ‘It doesn’t make it any less true, though.’

‘It’s not true. Not really.’ He didn’t look at her as he said it. ‘I expect things will be more comfortable once we put this initial meeting behind us.’

‘I expect you’re right.’

She frowned suddenly and glanced a little to his left. With a swift movement she reached down and picked up... His cufflinks!

Jack bit back a curse. They must have fallen from his case when he’d pulled out the divorce papers. He could tell from the way her nostrils suddenly flared that she recognised the box. They’d been her wedding present to him when he’d said he’d prefer not to wear a ring—rose gold with a tiny sapphire in each that she’d claimed were nearly as blue as his eyes. He’d treasured them.

His glance went to her left hand and his gut clenched when he saw that she no longer wore her wedding ring.

Without a word she handed the box back to him. ‘You really ought to be more careful when you’re pulling things from your bag.’

He shoved the box back into the depths of the satchel. ‘Tell me about this job you’d like me to do for you.’

He didn’t owe her for her signature on their divorce papers, but if by doing this he could end things between them on a more pleasant note, then perhaps he’d find the closure he so desperately needed.

‘And, yes, you have my word that I will never reveal to another soul what you’re about to tell me—unless you give me leave to.’

She stared at him, as if trying to sum him up. With a start he realised she was trying to decide whether to trust him or not.

‘You don’t trust my word of honour?’

‘If you’re after any kind of revenge on me, what I’m about to tell you will provide you with both the means and the method.’

He didn’t want revenge. He’d never wanted revenge. He just wanted to move on with his life.

And to kiss her.

He stiffened. Ridiculous! He pushed that thought—and the associated images—firmly from his mind.

‘I have no desire to hurt you, Caro. I hope your life is long and happy. Would it ease your mind if I didn’t ask you to sign the divorce papers until after I’ve completed this job of yours?’

She leaned back, folding her arms. ‘Why is this divorce so important to you now?’

‘I want to remarry.’

She went deathly still. ‘I see.’

She didn’t. It wasn’t as though he had a particular woman in mind, waiting in the wings, but he didn’t correct the assumption she’d obviously made. It was beyond time that he severed this last tie with Caro. He should have done it before now, but he’d been busy establishing his company. Now it was thriving, he was a self-made success, and it was time to put the past to rest.

If Caro thought he’d fallen in love again, then all well and good. It would provide another layer of distance between them. And while he shouldn’t need it—not after five years—he found himself clinging to every scrap of defence he could find.

‘Well...’ She crossed her legs. ‘I wish you well, Jack.’

She even sounded as if she meant it. That shouldn’t chafe at him.

‘Tell me about this job you want to hire me for.’

He bit into the cake in an effort to ignore the turmoil rolling through him and looked across at her when she didn’t speak. She glanced at the cake and then at him. It made him slow down and savour the taste of the sweet sponge, the smooth cream and the tiny crunch of sugar.

He frowned. ‘This is really good.’

Finally she smiled. ‘I know.’

He’d have laughed at her smugness, but his gut had clenched up too tightly at her smile.

She leaned forward, suddenly all business. ‘I’m now a director at Vertu, the silver and decorative arts division at Richardson’s.’

‘Right.’ He didn’t let on that he knew that. When they’d married she’d been only a junior administrator at the auction house.

‘Yesterday I placed into my father’s safe a very beautiful and rather valuable snuffbox to show to a client this morning.’

‘Is that usual?’

She raised one elegant shoulder. ‘When selected customers request a private viewing, Richardson’s is always happy to oblige.’

‘Right.’

‘When I went to retrieve the snuffbox this morning it wasn’t there.’

He set down his now clean plate, his every sense sharpening. ‘You have my attention.’

‘I put it in the safe myself, prior to the reading of my father’s will.’

‘Which took place where?’

‘In my father’s study—the same room as the safe.’

He remembered that study. He nodded. ‘Go on.’

Her expression was composed, but she was twisting the thin gold bangle on her arm round and round—a sure sign of agitation.

‘The fact that I am sole beneficiary came as a very great shock to both Barbara and I.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Your father and Barbara have remained married all this time?’

‘Yes. I believe she loved him.’

Jack wasn’t so charitable, but he kept his mouth shut.

‘When Barbara retired to her room, the lawyer gave me this letter from my father.’ She rose, removed a letter from her purse and handed it to him. ‘More cake?’

He shook his head and read the letter. Then he folded it up again, tapping it against his knee. ‘He thought she was stealing from him.’

Knowing Roland Fielding, he’d have kept a very tight rein on the purse strings. What kind of debts could his lovely young wife have accrued that would have her risking being caught red-handed with stolen goods?

‘He was wrong. It wasn’t Barbara who was pilfering those bits and pieces. It was Paul.’

‘Paul is still working...?’ He blew out a breath. ‘Shouldn’t he have retired by now?’

She pressed her hands together. ‘My father wasn’t a man who liked change.’

That was the understatement of the year.

‘And, to be fair, I don’t think Paul is either. I suspect the thought of retirement horrifies him.’

The bangle was pushed up her arm and twisted with such force he thought she’d hurt herself.

‘He and Barbara have never warmed to each other.’

‘And you’re telling me this because...?’

‘Because Paul was putting all those things he’d taken—’

‘Stolen,’ he corrected.

‘He was putting them away for me.’

Jack pressed his fingers to his eyes.

‘He was as convinced as I that I’d be totally written out of the will. He thought that I might need them.’

He pulled his hand away. ‘Caro, I—’

She held up a hand and he found himself pulling to a halt.

‘If Barbara finds out why my father wrote her out of the will and that Paul is responsible, she’ll want him charged. I can’t let that happen—surely you can see that, Jack? Paul was doing it for me.’

‘You didn’t ask him to!’

‘That’s beside the point. I know Barbara has been wronged, and I mean to make it up to her. I intend to split the estate with her fifty-fifty.’

He let the air whistle between his teeth. ‘That’s very generous. You could probably buy her silence for a couple of million.’

‘It’s not generous and I don’t want to “buy her silence”! I want her to have half of everything. Half is certainly far more than I ever expected to get, and I’m fairly certain she won’t begrudge me it.’

Was she?

‘Where does the snuffbox come in?’

She hauled in a deep breath. ‘During the middle of the night Barbara removed the jewellery from the safe. As it’s all hers she had every right to remove it.’

He straightened. ‘Except the snuffbox went missing at the same time?’

She nodded. ‘When I asked her about it she claimed to not have seen it.’

‘But you don’t believe her?’

Her fingers started to twist that bangle again. ‘She was upset yesterday—understandably. She wasn’t thinking clearly. I know she wouldn’t do anything to deliberately hurt me, but my father has treated her so very shabbily and I suspect she panicked. I fear she’s painted herself into a corner and now doesn’t know how to return the snuffbox while still maintaining face.’

‘And you want me to recover said snuffbox without her being aware of it?’

‘Yes, please.’

It should be a piece of cake. ‘What happens if the snuffbox isn’t restored to Richardson’s?’

‘I’ll lose my job.’ She let out a long, slow breath. ‘I’ll never work in the industry again.’

He suddenly saw what she meant by revenge. Her job had been more important to her than starting a family with him. Now he had the potential to help destroy all the credibility she’d worked so hard to gain in one fell swoop. The irony!

‘Worse than that, though...’

He lifted a disbelieving eyebrow. ‘Worse than you losing your job?’

Her gaze didn’t waver. ‘Richardson’s prides itself on its honesty and transparency. If I don’t return that snuffbox there will be a police investigation.’

‘The scandal would be shocking,’ he agreed.

‘For heaven’s sake, Jack—who cares about the scandal?’ She shot to her feet, hands on hips. ‘Barbara does not deserve to go to jail for this. And Paul doesn’t deserve to get into trouble either.’

They were both thieves!

‘This mess is of my father’s making. He forces people into impossible situations and makes them desperate. I won’t let that happen this time around. I won’t!’ She pulled in a breath and met his gaze squarely. ‘I mean to make this right, Jack. Will you help me?’

He stared at her. This woman had dashed all his most tightly held dreams. Five years ago she’d ground them underfoot as if they hadn’t mattered one iota. The remembered pain could still make him wake up in a lather of sweat in the middle of the night.

He opened his mouth.

His shoulders slumped.

‘Yes.’

Since when had he ever been able to say no to this woman?

* * *

Caro tiptoed past the disused pantry, and the butler’s and housekeeper’s offices—both of which had been vacant for as long as she could remember. The kitchen stretched all along the other side of these old rooms, with the small sitting room Paul used as his office on the other side of the kitchen. She’d chosen this route so as to not disturb him, but she tiptoed just the same. The man had bat-like hearing.

Lifting the latch on the back door, she stepped out into the darkness of the garden, just as she’d promised Jack she would. She glanced around, wondering in what corner he lurked and watched her from. Feigning indifference, she lifted her head and gazed up at the night sky, but if there were any stars to be seen they were currently obscured by low cloud.

She knew from past experience, though, that one rarely saw stars here—the city lights kept the stars at bay and, as her father had always told her, star-gazing never got anybody anywhere in life.

‘Tell that to astronomers and astronauts,’ she murmured under her breath.

‘Miss Caroline?’

Paul appeared in the kitchen doorway. Caro wiped suddenly damp palms down her skirt. No one was supposed to see her out here.

‘Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.’

She turned towards him. ‘Are you sure there isn’t anything I can help you with?’

‘Certainly not.’

In his youth, Paul had trained as a chef. With the help of an army of maids, who came in twice a week, Paul had kept this house running single-handed for nearly thirty years. Although, as her father had rarely entertained, the position hadn’t been a demanding one.

When she was a child she’d spent most of the year away at boarding school. So for nearly fifteen years—before her father had married Barbara—it had just been her father and Paul rattling around together in this big old house.

Some sixth sense—a hyper-awareness that flashed an odd tingling warmth across her skin—informed her that Jack stood in the shadows of a large rhododendron bush to her left. It took all her strength not to turn towards it. She’d wanted to let Paul in on their plan—his help would have been invaluable, and for a start she wouldn’t be tiptoeing through the house in the dark, unlatching doors—but Jack had sworn her to secrecy.

And as he happened to be the surveillance expert...

She reached Paul’s side and drew him to the right, away from Jack, pointing up at the steepled roofline. ‘Did you know that one night, when I was ten, I walked all the way along that roofline?’

Paul glanced up and pressed a hand to his chest. ‘Good grief!’

‘I’d read a book about a cat burglar who’d made his way across London by jumping from roof to roof.’

‘Tell me you didn’t?’ Paul groaned.

She laughed. From the corner of her eye she saw a shadow slip through the door. ‘Mrs Thomas-Fraser’s Alsatian dog started up such a racket that I hightailed it back to my room before the alarm could be raised.’

‘You could’ve fallen! If I’d know about that back then it would have taken ten years off my life.’

Caro shook her head. ‘I can hardly believe now that I ever dared such a thing. Seriously, Paul, who’d have children?’

He chuckled and patted her shoulder. ‘You were a delight.’

To Paul, perhaps, but never to her father.

‘Come along.’ He drew her into the house. ‘You’ll catch a chill if you’re not careful.’

She wanted to laugh. A chill? It was summer! He was such a fusspot.

‘I don’t suppose I could talk you into joining Barbara and I for dinner?’

‘You suppose right. It wouldn’t be seemly.’

Seriously—he belonged in an England of a bygone age. ‘Oh, I should go and lock the other door.’

‘I’ll take care of it.’

To insist would raise his suspicions. ‘Paul, do we have any headache tablets?’

He pointed to a cupboard.

When he’d gone, she popped two tablets and unlatched the kitchen door—just in case. This sneaking around business was not for the faint-hearted.

* * *

Barbara sliced into her fillet of sole. ‘Caroline, do I need to remind you that if your father had wanted me to inherit any portion of his estate, he’d have named me in his will?’

Caro swallowed. ‘You only call me Caroline when you’re cross with me.’

Barbara’s gaze lifted.

‘I didn’t know he was going to do this, Barbara. I swear. I wish he’d left it all to you.’

Her stepmother’s gaze lowered. She fiddled with the napkin in her lap.

‘And if he had left it all to you,’ Caro continued, ‘I know you’d have made sure that I received a portion of it.’

‘Of course—but that’s different.’

‘How?’

‘This money has been in your family for generations. It’s your birthright.’

Twaddle. ‘I mean to give Paul a generous legacy too. He’ll need a pension to see him through retirement.’

‘That man’s a rogue. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t weaselled enough bonuses out of your father over the years to see him through two retirements.’

‘Even if he has, he’ll have earned every penny.’

The other woman’s gaze narrowed. ‘You and your father—you never could find any common ground. You didn’t understand each other. You never brought out the best in him. And—you’ll have to forgive me for saying this, Caro, darling—you were never at your best when you were around him either.’

Caro opened her mouth to dispute that, then shot her stepmother a half smile. How could Barbara still defend him after he’d treated her so shabbily? ‘Okay, I’ll concede that point.’

Where was Jack at this very moment? Was he in Barbara’s room, scanning its every hiding place? Had he found the snuffbox yet?

The thought of Jack prowling about upstairs filled her with the oddest adrenaline rush—similar to the one she’d had as a ten-year-old, when she’d inched across the mansion’s roof. It made her realise how boring her life had become.

Not boring! Predictable.

She stuck out her chin. She liked predictable.

‘Caro?’

She snapped her attention back to Barbara.

‘You had the oddest look on your face.’

Jack had always had that effect on her. ‘Just trying to work out the morass that was my father’s mind. And yours.’

‘Mine?’ Barbara set her fork down. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

‘If our situations were reversed you’d be happy to share my father’s money with me. Why aren’t you happy for me to share it with you?’

Barbara picked up her clutch purse and rose. ‘I find my appetite has quite fled. I really don’t wish to discuss this any further.’

Caro nearly choked on her sole. Jack! If Barbara should happen to find him in her room...

‘Please don’t go! I—’ She took a hasty sip of water. ‘I’m tired of feeling lonely in this house.’

Barbara’s face softened. She lowered herself back to her chair. ‘Very well—but no more talk about your father and his money.’

‘Deal.’ Caro did her best to eat her new potatoes and green beans when all the while her stomach churned.

Please be careful, Jack.

She glanced over at her stepmother. ‘Paul tells me you’ve barely been out of the house lately? Don’t you think you should get out more? Being cooped up like this can’t be good for you.’

Barbara sent her a tiny smile. ‘On that subject we happen to be in complete agreement, darling. Lady Sedgewick has invited me down to their place in Kent this very weekend. She’s having a house party. I thought I might accept her invitation.’

‘Oh, yes, you should! The Sedgewicks are a lovely family. I was at school with Olivia. Do go. You’ll have a lovely time.’

It was beyond time that Barbara started enjoying herself again.

* * *

Caro tiptoed into her room ninety minutes later. ‘Jack?’ she whispered into the darkness, before clicking on the light.

Her room was empty. She tried to crush the kernel of disappointment that lodged in her chest. He hadn’t said that he’d wait for her in her room. She’d just assumed he would. She checked her phone for a text.

Nothing.

Maybe he’d sent her an email?

She was about to retrieve her laptop when a shadow on the far side of the wardrobe fluttered and Jack detached himself from the darkness. Her mouth went dry and her heart pounded. She tried to tell herself it was because he’d startled her, but she had a feeling her reaction was even more primal than fear.

Dressed in close-fitting jeans and a black turtleneck sweater, Jack looked dark, dangerous and disreputable.

Delicious, some part of her mind pronounced.

She wanted to tell herself to stop being ridiculous, but ‘delicious’ described him perfectly. What was ridiculous was the fact that every atom of her being should swell towards him now, with a hunger that robbed her of breath.

But why was it ridiculous—even after five years? It had always been this way between them.

Yes, but five years ago he’d broken her heart. That should make a difference.

She lifted her chin. It did. It made a huge difference. Obviously just not to her body’s reaction, that was all.

She pulled in a breath. ‘Well...?’

She held that breath as she waited for him to produce the snuffbox. She’d get her snuffbox and he’d get his divorce, and then he could marry this new woman of his and they’d all be happy.

He lifted a finger to his lips and cocked his head, as if listening to something.

Actually, she had serious doubts on the happiness aspect. She had serious doubts that Jack was in love.

Not your business.

Jack moved in close, leaned towards her, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. Her heart surged to the left and then to the right, but he merely whispered in her ear.

‘Go and check the corridor.’

His warm breath caressed her ear, making her recall the way he’d used to graze it gently with his teeth...and how it had driven her wild. The breath jammed in her chest. She turned her head a fraction, until their lips were so close their breaths mingled. She ached for him to kiss her. She ached to feel his arms about her, curving her body to his. She ached to move with him in a union that had always brought her bliss.

His lips twisted and a sardonic light burned in the backs of his eyes. ‘Caro, I didn’t come up here to play.’

His warm breath trailing across her lips made her nipples peak before the import of his words hit her. From somewhere she found the strength to step back, humiliation burning her cheeks.

‘You should be so lucky,’ she murmured, going to the door and checking the corridor outside, doing all she could to hide how rubbery her legs had become. ‘All clear,’ she said in a low voice, turning back and closing the door behind her. ‘What did you hear?’

He merely shrugged. ‘It’s better to be safe than sorry.’

She did her best not to notice the breadth of his shoulders in that body-hugging turtleneck or the depth of his chest. ‘Do you also have a balaclava?’

He pulled one from the waistband of his jeans.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, as if having him here in her bedroom didn’t faze her in the least.

‘Did you get it?’ She kept her voice low, even though Barbara’s room was at the other end of the house and Paul’s was another floor up, and he used the back stairs to get to it anyway. Nobody would be passing her door unless they’d come deliberately looking for her.

‘No.’

‘No?’ She moved in closer to whisper, ‘What do you mean, no?’ She had to move away again fast—his familiar scent was threatening to overwhelm her.

‘If it’d been in that room I would’ve found it.’

She didn’t doubt him—not when he used that tone of voice. Damn! Damn! Damn!

She strode to the window, hands clenched. ‘Where can it be?’

‘Did she have a handbag or a purse with her at dinner?’

Caro swung around. ‘A little clutch purse.’ In hindsight, that had been odd. She hadn’t had any plans to go out this evening, so why bring a purse to dinner in her own house?

‘It’s in there, then.’

‘So...what now? You can’t creep into her room with her in it.’

‘It wouldn’t be ideal,’ he agreed, moving to the window and raising it. In one lithe movement he slid outside.

‘So?’

‘So now I go home and ponder for a while.’

She should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. She planted her hands on her hips. ‘Jack, you can use the front door. Everyone else is in bed. No one will see you.’

‘But you’ve made me eager to try out your cat burglar method.’

So he’d heard her conversation with Paul about that...

She leaned out to peer at him. ‘Be careful.’

He moved so quickly that she wouldn’t have been able to retreat even if the gleam in his eyes hadn’t held her captive. His lips brushed her hair, his breath tickling her ear again. She froze, heart pounding, as she waited for him to murmur some final instruction to her.

Instead his teeth grazed her ear, making her gasp and sparking her every nerve ending to life.