Читать книгу The Mistresses Collection - Оливия Гейтс - Страница 44
ОглавлениеCaitlin turned away, hearing his laughter and the click as the bathroom door closed. He was being deliberately outrageous, trying to make her laugh and put her at a funny kind of ease.
She did feel somewhat better. At least they’d established an arrangement for the next few days. But oh, boy, was he a vastly different guy to the exhausted grouch who’d tried to boot her out of his bed last night. Still gorgeous, yes. Driven, yes. Determined—most definitely. But amusing, teasing, mercurial in his mood...not to mention arrogant. It all added up to appallingly attractive.
Still, Caitlin could resist anything, right? It was peace and quiet she was after really. She only had to get through a couple of nights next to him. Easy peasy.
She wasn’t thinking of being easy.
She pulled her straggly ponytail free and found her comb in her bag. She sat cross-legged on the lower corner of the bed and worked out the knots before twisting her hair into a plait. She’d just finished when he emerged from the bathroom, a white towel around his waist. Once more Caitlin was stunned into silence at the sight of his shoulders, chest, and sheer lean strength. Not bodybuilder bulky, but not skinny. Just right. He winked outrageously at her before walking into the wardrobe and closing the door behind him. A bare minute later he reappeared clad in a fresh grey tee and clean combat pants. She couldn’t help grinning at what was so clearly his uniform. Clean-shaven, dressed, uber-alert, he’d switched on his inner action man.
‘Now for the practicalities,’ he said.
She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. ‘Practicalities?’
‘Food.’ He jerked his head to the side. ‘There’s not even a fridge in this place. We’re going to have to forage.’
That easily he made her smile. ‘In the wilds of New York city?’
‘It’s a challenge.’ He nodded seriously. ‘You up for it?’
Truthfully she’d been going to go with a container of yoghurt. She was on bread and cheese rations for this trip. But she needed to get out of here and inhale some fresh air. Cool the little inferno bubbling inside.
‘Okay.’ She swiftly twisted her plait into a flat bun—and then hid the lot under her black beanie, and grabbed her oversize sunglasses.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, staring at her.
‘Getting ready to go out.’
‘You don’t like the sun?’
‘I don’t like being seen.’
‘You’re used to being recognised?’ His brows lifted again.
‘It’s unlikely here, but you never know.’ There was always someone, and everyone had smartphones. A snap could go round the world in seconds. She’d suffered through that many scathing articles and online comments recently, she didn’t feel safe from them yet—despite being in a whole other country.
‘Why would people recognise you?’
She hesitated. Until a few weeks ago most people wouldn’t have. It was years since she’d been on telly screens. But just over a month ago Dominic and his new girlfriend had set the hounds on her. Not that she was telling James about that mess. ‘I have a famous sister.’
His frown deepened when she didn’t elaborate. ‘Well, if you don’t want to be noticed—’ he plucked the glasses from her nose ‘—you’re going the wrong way about it.’ He tugged the beanie off her head as well and tossed it onto the bed. ‘There are plenty of blondes in this town. Even natural ones like you. No one will notice. But if they see someone so obviously trying to hide, then they’re going to think you’re someone worth snapping.’ He walked into the wardrobe.
‘Photographers linger in this area?’ she called after him. She should have known it. This building filled with huge condos in central Manhattan meant serious wealth—no doubt celebrities were part of the body corporate.
‘Sometimes.’ He reappeared. ‘Wear this.’ He handed her a New York Yankees cap. ‘It’s not winter, you know.’
‘Thanks.’
Fists on hips, he studied her intently as she pulled the cap down more securely. ‘You really don’t like the press?’ he asked.
‘Who does?’
‘Lots of people want to have more than their fifteen minutes,’ he said.
‘They’re welcome to have mine.’ Caitlin walked out of the bedroom.
She’d actually had more than her fifteen minutes years ago, and she didn’t want a second more. Which made the recent events all the more galling. Given she’d been out of the scene for so long, she’d forgotten how to play the game. She’d forgotten how much it hurt. And worse, both the field and her opponents of today were bigger and more vicious than before.
She lost her stomach in the elevator ride down to the lobby. Well, maybe it wasn’t the elevator, maybe it was a weird combo of nerves and excitement and a fragile possibility of happiness. Outside she drew breath and blinked at the mid-morning sunlight. Could she really walk down the street like a free person?
The last few weeks in London she’d been a virtual prisoner, afraid not only of whether there’d be a photographer lurking, but the reaction of the general public. She’d dreaded anyone recognising her. Having been labelled the psycho ex of the ‘hot young actor’ and the woman who’d gone crazy in her attempts to get him back, she’d been on the receiving end of the venom. They said she’d gone stalker when Dominic broke up with her. That she’d used the possibility of a baby to try to get him back. That she’d terminated that pregnancy when he refused to come to heel.
Lies. Vicious, hurtful lies. Every one of them.
And of course those stories were accompanied by all the articles comparing her to her sister—a resurgence of the pieces penned years ago. She was proud of Hannah, pleased for her. But her success came at a cost to Caitlin. The press had polarised them way back when—the ‘good sister’ versus ‘the bad sister’, the ‘talented’ versus the ‘try-hard’, the ‘consummate professional’ versus the ‘demanding diva’. While Hannah didn’t buy into it, didn’t add to the rumour mill, or perpetuate it, their father always had. He still was, with his apparent attempt to ‘reach out’ to Caitlin, his ‘troubled younger daughter’. Through the press of course. As if what had been written were true.
She’d never forgive him for that.
She’d never wanted her life to become like some scripted reality TV show. Didn’t hunger for fame the way her father did or have a passion for being on film like her sister. She’d worked as a child model and actress purely because she’d been told to. Because they’d needed the money. She’d got out of it as soon as she could—as soon as she’d forced them to drop her.
Now she just wanted to be left in peace to do her own thing.
Here, now, in New York, the streets were crowded with people busily going their own way, getting to where they needed to go and not paying attention to anyone else. Moving fast and free. She wanted to be like them.
‘First time in Manhattan?’ James’ amused voice broke into her reverie.
She realised she was standing stock-still, staring at the crowds walking down the sidewalk. She tore her gaze away from the scene and looked up at him, pasting a smile to her lips. ‘It’s that obvious?’
His eyebrows flickered. ‘What’s first on the list?’
‘The list?’ She echoed like an idiot as she looked at him in the midday light. He really was extremely compelling—tall, focused, intriguing.
‘Your “must-see, must-do” itinerary,’ he explained.
‘Oh.’ She turned and fell into step with him. ‘Do you know, I don’t know. I haven’t had the chance to figure it out.’ She glanced up and saw his surprised expression. ‘The trip was a last minute thing.’
‘You must have some ideas. No?’ He frowned. ‘Come on, let’s eat and I’ll give you a rundown of the highlights.’
‘The Wolfe Guide?’
‘Something like that.’ He led her a few more paces down the block and then turned, holding the door for her.
A diner like one out of an old Seinfeld episode? She grinned. Okay, she could do that. She was definitely in the Big Apple now.
He slid into a booth. She sank into the seat opposite and toyed with the menu.
‘You ready to order?’ a waitress asked.
Caitlin hesitated.
‘I’ll have blueberry pancakes, please,’ James ordered, then looked at Caitlin and winked. ‘Nothing beats dessert for brunch.’
She faux winced and ordered just a coffee.
‘That’s all you want?’ He frowned as the waitress departed.
‘It takes a while for my appetite to wake up,’ she lied, fiddling with a sugar sachet to avoid looking at him. It wasn’t an outrageously expensive place, but she was going to have to be careful.
‘It should be awake by now,’ he half snorted. ‘It’s after midday—we slept through breakfast and lunch.’
Well, her budget was more a one-meal-a-day deal, but she wasn’t going to tell him all her sad little secrets.
‘So, you must have some kind of list,’ he said, sitting back as the waitress came and poured their coffees. ‘Got to have the usual things...Statue of Liberty, Times Square, Rockefeller Center...’
‘Yeah, I guess so.’ She picked up her cup and blew on the coffee before stealing a quick sip.
An insulted expression crossed his face. ‘Are you not fully excited about being in New York?’
She laughed and set down her cup. ‘I am. Oh, I absolutely am.’ But it hadn’t struck her before that she’d be here seeing it on her own. And that she’d hardly be able to afford a thing. All she’d been thinking about was escaping. She was going to need a second to get her head around it.
And just like that it came—the surge of happiness. She was free. She might even have some fun. She was in Man-freaking-Hattan.
His pancakes arrived and he began decimating the huge tower with a remarkable speed. He glanced up and caught her amused expression.
‘Brothers,’ he explained out of the corner of his mouth. ‘Eat it or lose it.’
‘I’m not going to steal your lunch.’
His eyebrows lowered as he eyed the lonely cup in front of her. ‘Maybe you should.’
‘I’m not a fan of pancakes.’
The look he shot her then was of such pure disbelief she couldn’t help chuckling. Then she went for distraction. ‘So aside from the Statue of Liberty, what do you recommend?’
He munched and thought about it for a bit. ‘Depends.’
‘On?’
‘What you’re into.’ He speared through three pancakes at once. ‘There’s something for everyone in this city. So what are you into?’
‘I don’t know.’
He paused and met her eyes. ‘You don’t know what you’re into? What you want?’
She felt that wretched heat bloom in her cheeks. Why must she read innuendo into everything the man said? ‘I just want to see some things.’
‘Not do some things?’
Oh, there was innuendo there. ‘Perhaps.’
‘You’re going to need more than coffee if you’re planning on doing things.’
‘Then perhaps today I’ll just stick with seeing.’
He inclined his head with a wry grin. ‘Fair enough.’
She stiffened as he opened his wallet. ‘You’re not paying.’
‘Yeah? Well, I don’t expect you to buy me breakfast.’ He sighed. ‘Though would it be so bad to let me buy you a coffee to make up for my rudeness of last night?’ He looked across at her for a moment, his eyebrows lifting higher as the seconds passed. ‘Clearly it would.’
Caitlin swallowed the last mouthful of her coffee. She was an idiot. Overreacting because she was oversensitive. The events of the last six weeks had made her paranoid. She wasn’t being fair. It was one thing not to trust, but to treat someone rudely? ‘I’m sorry, it was me being rude then. I really appreciate the way you’re helping me out.’
He met her gaze; a low smile spread across his face. An open, nothing-held-back smile that flooded her with warmth. ‘No problem.’
She stood, trying to escape the megawatt impact of that smile. ‘Thanks.’
* * *
Two minutes later James dug his mobile out and switched it on, keeping an eye on his new roommate as she walked off down the street ahead of him.
She’d finally smiled, finally relaxed and accepted the situation. And his apology. Good. Now all he had to do was get out of here as soon as possible. The condo was hers. The sooner he got back on a plane, the better.
With an effort he glanced at his phone. No messages. Most everyone thought he was in the back of beyond and wouldn’t expect to hear from him. Except for his boss. He touched her name in his contacts list. True to all-efficient form she answered on the second ring.
‘I need a project,’ he said as soon as she’d said hello.
‘You’re only just back.’
‘I know. And bored already,’ he lied.
‘Well, I do have something...’ Lisbet trailed off.
Despite his lingering tiredness, his skin prickled. He did like to stay busy. ‘Where?’
‘Here.’
‘Forget it.’ He heard Lisbet’s impatient mumble and hurried on. ‘You know I don’t want a desk job. Can’t think of anything worse.’
‘You have other skills we need. Not all our people can perform the way you do in a public environment. Communication, fundraising is necessary.’
‘I’m not your poster boy—you know this already.’ He watched as Caitlin disappeared into the throng walking downtown. Fleetingly he hoped she’d be okay on her own—that she’d not just ‘see’ but ‘do’.
‘And you know you already are. You could still go on overseas projects,’ said Lisbet. ‘Just fewer.’
Lisbet had been on at him about taking on more of a public role for a while now, but he wasn’t giving up the real work. He preferred to be an anonymous part of a team, not a figurehead. ‘Don’t lessen my load,’ he warned her. ‘I’d have to offer my services elsewhere.’
‘All right,’ she sighed. ‘But I’m not going to stop trying to change your mind.’
‘Try all you like, but keep the field assignments coming.’ He turned back towards the condo.
‘There’s no end to them,’ she snorted. ‘But you need at least a fortnight off.’
A fortnight? He halted in horror, earning a muffled curse from the pedestrian behind him who’d swerved to avoid smacking into him. James waved a vague apology and then frowned at the pavement.
No way could he share a bed with Caitlin for a fortnight. Not without asking for the improper. ‘I don’t need that long,’ he quickly said to Lisbet. ‘I’m ready to ship out again tomorrow.’
‘No. I’m not letting you burn out,’ she answered.
‘Never going to happen.’
‘That’s what they all say, right before they crash,’ she said briskly. ‘Go spend some time with your family. You’ve been overseas for months.’
‘I like being overseas.’ He liked his family too, but he liked being away and busy more.
He heard her sigh. ‘If you insist on doing something, you can come to the charity gala on Thursday night. I’ll put your name down now.’
Oh, hell, that was even worse. ‘Lisbet, I don’t—’
‘It’s only one night,’ she wheedled. ‘You can show me how refreshed you are so I’ll send you back into the fray sooner.’
‘Fine,’ he snapped, letting her manipulate him—mainly because he knew rolling up to the event was part of his duty. He turned his phone off and shoved it into his back pocket.
Two weeks? What was he supposed to do with all that time? He hadn’t had more than a few days off in years and that was the way he liked it. If he stayed in town more, his parents would put the pressure on about other—more personal—things. But they were going to have to save that for his brothers. James would never settle down. He’d seen how tragedy tore a family apart. He wasn’t doing that to anyone else again. Definitely not having a wife or children of his own. He’d work for other people’s families. That was how he got satisfaction and some semblance of peace. So he’d even help his unexpected roommate. His pain in the neck roommate. Pretty roommate. Sassy, sexy roommate...
Two weeks?
He yanked his wayward thoughts to a halt, frowning again. But he couldn’t toss her out. There was a code—written by his own family in fact. You welcomed, opened up, let the weary traveller rest. How many times had he stayed at places where it must have been uncomfortable or awkward for the people who were hosting him? But they never said no. The basic kindness of people never failed to touch him. Yeah, the least he could do was offer the same in return. Kindness without strings. Certainly not sexual strings. He’d ice this edge he had for her. It was only reaction to circumstance anyway. He’d been working back-to-back projects, had hardly seen a woman in any sexual sense—only broken people in need of practical help. The idea of sex hadn’t entered his head in recent weeks. So of course it had roared in on flaming wheels now he was in the clear and confronted with a woman wearing little and already in his bed.
The urge to cut loose sneakily called. He could charm a little, couldn’t he? Not everything in his life needed to be that intense life-and-death stuff. He could coast along with his lovely roommate for a few days until his boss let him out on assignment again. A slight flirt wasn’t going to harm. And the amusement, the thrill he felt when Caitlin hit back? He couldn’t resist stirring that. He couldn’t resist the challenge of making her blush, smile, spark.
He walked back to the condo and spent the rest of the afternoon talking through the refit plans with the design team—tweaking here and there while he had the chance. After they left he glanced at his watch. Where was Caitlin? Hours had passed since she’d left him outside the diner. What tourist stuff had she soaked up? Had she eaten dinner? He waited, in case she hadn’t. The evening progressed. Nine o’clock came and went. So did ten.
Still no Caitlin.
Adrenalin tightened his muscles. Unable to ignore the pleas from his stomach, or the urge to move in some way, James headed out and picked up a pizza. He wandered round the cold, empty floor of his lounge, eating and distracting himself by imagining what it was going to look like once the changes had been made.
The second hand on his watch ticked on. Still she didn’t return. Concern pressed. Had he scared her off? Had she gone to stay somewhere else? Where? But she’d left her small toiletries bag in the bathroom. So did that mean she was lost—or something worse?
Hell. He tossed the uneaten crusts in the pizza box. Why was he so worried? She was grown-up. He wasn’t her damn guardian. He forced himself to take a shower and go to bed. If he didn’t get some sleep he’d look a wreck at the bloody gala and Lisbet would keep him chained to some desk for ever. But he didn’t bother trying to sleep. He tried to read.
In reality, he waited.
* * *
Caitlin crept up the stairs, hyped about her day yet awkward about the upcoming sleep situation. Hopefully James was long asleep already. If so, she wouldn’t wake him, given he slept like the dead. But as she climbed to the top floor she saw light emanating from the room. She swallowed back the surge of adrenalin and walked in.
Oh, where was the mercy? The man was in bed, apparently not wearing anything but the sheet covering his lower half. His bare, bronzed, muscled chest yanked her attention and sizzled her skin. She didn’t know where to look. But she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.
‘You had a good day?’ He’d glanced up from the iPad he’d been reading.
‘Amazing.’ She bit her lip, wondering for a second if he’d been searching anything on the web. But his smile was still too warm and, frankly, the guy probably had way better things to do than bother finding out about her. It wasn’t as if he were really interested, right?
‘So you saw?’ he asked, a teasing glint in his eye.
‘I saw.’ And man, was she seeing now.
‘And did?’
‘I saw more than did.’ She glanced away, trying to recount her day rather than drool. ‘Times Square, Rockefeller Center—as you said. And tonight I saw a Broadway show, which was so awesome.’ She beamed and looked back at him. ‘That rocked. And now I’m really sore. My feet,’ she explained as his brows lifted. ‘I’ve walked miles.’
‘Ah.’ He nodded. ‘So now you need rest.’
‘Yeah.’ That wretched heat beat its way into her cheeks. Somehow she couldn’t think ‘rest’ when he was in bed like that—all big and bare and bold.
‘You’re going to sleep in the travel clothes?’ he asked softly, a way too wicked whisper.
‘I don’t have much choice,’ she said wryly.
‘Wear another of my T-shirts.’
She licked her dry lips. ‘I don’t think the grey is my colour.’ She tried to joke, because she knew he was joking with her like some panto character—all twirling moustache and gleaming eyes.
‘I’m betting all colours would suit you,’ he said.
‘Are you flirting with me again?’ She tried to stand tall. Tried to breathe. But the heat he generated burned her lungs.
‘I was trying for more subtle this time,’ he said. Humour laced his words but his triple-strength-espresso eyes were locked on hers. ‘Is it working? I’m a little rusty.’
Caitlin couldn’t tear her gaze from his. Couldn’t contain her own rusty reply. ‘Maybe you should try a little harder.’
He stilled; his alert eyes drilled as if he was searching out her secrets. That tiny roguish twist to his lips remained. ‘How hard?’
She swallowed. But then shook her head, taking a step back from the ledge; she wasn’t buying into this game. Because it was a game. ‘I’m not sure you can deliver.’
‘How do you know if you don’t let me try?’ His voice deepened; so did the amusement slipping into his eyes. ‘I don’t like not being given the opportunity to prove myself.’
She dragged in a scalding breath. ‘This is you being brotherly?’
His smile broadened. His shoulders rose and fell in an easy gesture. ‘You make it very difficult not to tease you.’
Caitlin sent him a look and stalked into the bathroom, locking the door on his low laughter. The man was all tease, with the lack of shirt and lapse into outrageous flirt. He was only doing it to amuse himself, she knew that, but it was fun and frankly a little flattering to her decimated-by-Dominic ego. So what if James didn’t mean it?
Trouble was her body was totally buying it. All aware, totally absorbed by his physique. With that chest and those sculpted abs, all she wanted was to wrap herself around him. Her body was taking his carefree, fun flirt way too seriously. Good thing she was human and able to control her bodily desires.
Will power over want.
She towelled off and pondered her nightwear dilemma. One of his grey shirts was neatly folded and waiting on a shelf. She half laughed as she saw it, feeling a ridiculous glow at his thoughtfulness. He might have been teasing, but he’d remembered her no-luggage predicament and was genuinely happy to help.
So the real question was what to wear beneath the tee. She should have been just a smidge less frugal and bought some more knickers this afternoon. Except she’d already blown her daily budget. So now she washed out her undies and hung them over the bath to dry for tomorrow—refusing to wince. The man spent most of his time in emergency camps—he’d have seen worse than a pair of knickers drying over a rail. Fingers crossed her luggage would show up some time soon. For now she slipped into the T-shirt and checked in the mirror how low it fell. Almost to mid-thigh. He’d never know whether she had undies on or not. It wasn’t a problem at all. Right?
Emerging from the bathroom, she stopped in the doorway and saw he’d created a Great Wall of Pillows in an engineering feat that NASA scientists would be proud of.
‘Like the border?’ He winked at her from where he stood on his side of the bed.
‘Impressive.’ She was so talking about the tower, not James in nothing but boxers. ‘That’s a very big...pile of pillows.’
His eyes danced. ‘I did ship in some extra. But it should hold.’ He rather awkwardly turned towards the bed and cleared his throat. ‘According to my boss I’m not going on another assignment for a fortnight.’
‘Oh.’ A fortnight? ‘So you’re on holiday too, then,’ she mumbled, her face scorching.
‘Seems so.’ He pulled back the sheet and slid beneath it.
‘Nice.’ She couldn’t think what else to say. She was going to have to sleep next to him for the next two weeks? How was she going to survive? She was too close to combustion as it was.
Hideously self-conscious, she crept onto her side of the bed. The tower was so tall she’d be able to sit up and still not see him. But she was acutely aware of his closeness, the image of him all but naked was seared on her mind.
She carefully clambered between the cool sheets and told her hyperactive senses to chill too. A fair amount of trust was required to sleep in the same bed as someone, but she was safe with James Wolfe. She’d already spent one night with him. Sure, last night he’d been too exhausted to do anything even if he’d wanted to, but she figured that—despite the light’n’teasy flirt—he really didn’t want to do anything. He was too honourable, way too much the hero, to make an inappropriate move.
And that was fine, right?
He switched off the light and plunged them into almost darkness. Energy buzzed in the room. Her sensual awareness grew super high. She totally regretted the no knickers. She was too nude—and growing too damp. She couldn’t really blame the shower. Get a grip, Caitlin.
She could lie next to him and not think about sex. She could keep cool and in control of herself. She could try to remember to breathe.
‘You had dinner before the theatre?’ he asked from the other side of the pillow ranges.
Caitlin swallowed a gasp. ‘Yes.’
At that moment, a prolonged gurgling sound rumbled round the deathly quiet room. Her stomach had just proved her a liar.
‘You spent your daily budget on your theatre ticket, didn’t you?’ He chuckled.
She sighed. No point in trying to lie now. ‘Yeah.’ Not just today’s budget, but tomorrow’s too. And the next day’s.
‘So you’re hungry.’
Yeah. She was. For a number of things.
She felt the mattress bounce as he suddenly moved. She heard rustling. Then a tearing sound—was that foil? Was he—?
She yanked her thoughts from the rampantly horny. Man, was she that wired, that turned on by his mere presence, that her brain had fried, thinking he was about to sate her sexual appetite? That he was undoing a—
‘Here.’
In the dim light she saw his hand stretching over their pillow wall.
She reached out and took the small rectangular-shaped thing he was holding out. It was slightly warm, slightly soft. And as she drew it nearer to see what it was the scent told her. Her mouth watered.
‘Chocolate?’ She felt almost faint at the divine smell.
‘I always have some with me. It has nuts in it, though—that okay?’
The man was an angel. ‘More than okay.’ She nibbled on a corner, savouring, resisting the urge to swallow it in one gulp. ‘So this is your secret stash? That’s what you keep by your bed?’
‘Uh-huh. Good, right?’
He was so good. She slowly sucked the chocolate lump, letting it melt over her tongue. She nearly moaned at the sweet sensation.
She heard his low laughter and he dropped another, much larger piece over the pillow wall.
No matter if he’d only ever been teasing, she was all his. A man who provided the necessaries of life—a roof over her head and chocolate after midnight? What more did a woman need?
She refused to think of sex.
A couple of minutes later he spoke again. ‘How bad is your budget?’
Caitlin smiled wryly. No point in trying to hide the obvious. ‘Pretty bad.’
Frankly she wasn’t bothered this instant because she’d seen that Broadway show tonight and she was staying in this incredible location, less than an arm’s reach from the hottest guy she’d ever met. A guy who slept in little and always carried chocolate with him—
‘A month in New York with no money?’ He summed up her life.
‘Yes, but that’s okay,’ she said doggedly. ‘I have a roof over my head. I have eyes.’
‘So you can do your seeing.’ James shook his head and passed the rest of his chocolate over the pillows. Hell, he wanted her to ‘do’ too. He wanted her to do him. And could anyone blame him when she was in one of his T-shirts again, all glowing from the shower with her long legs and sparkly eyes, full of smiles and simmering anticipation.
‘You should sleep,’ she said, sounding apologetic.
As if that were going to happen when she’d looked like that. Tired but flushed—excited. He listened to the soft sounds as she settled into the bed—so she was ready to snooze? At least she had a little something sweet in her stomach now.
Hell. He really wanted to lick the remaining taste of chocolate from her lips.
He drew a breath and held it as he tried to calm the riot inside his body. Good thing he’d built the pillows up so high, given the way his body was straining to attention. This was worse than he’d imagined it’d be. No way was he managing two weeks of this kind of torture. He’d phone Lisbet in the morning and insist on a placement somewhere—anywhere.
A few minutes later he heard Caitlin rustle again. Then again. Restless? As restless as he? He grinned in the darkness. He knew all about exciting days in foreign cities and sensorial overload. It took a while to relax, no matter how physically exhausted you were. You needed time to mentally unwind after such a stint of fierce sightseeing. The rustling sounded again.
‘You can’t sleep?’ he asked.
‘Sorry.’ Her soft voice filled him with warmth. ‘Am I keeping you awake? I can’t stop thinking.’
Yeah, he knew how that felt too. And he knew a cure—a focus on physical pleasure. Even the most stressed person could find that mindless relief that came after physical completion. But it wasn’t something he did when on assignment. A few of the guys did. Some of the things they saw when on task compelled a need to affirm life. Or find an escape. So they hooked up with nurses. Or maybe visited a local late-night lady. But some of those women the guys visited had no escape. They needed money desperately enough to do anything. Emotions were fraught. James thought it was easier, safer for all, to steer clear altogether. He encouraged his team to do the same.
But here he was. Home. Safe. And unable to think of anything but Caitlin and what he’d do to her the second he got the chance. He was out of control.
‘Tell me about the show,’ he almost begged her. Anything to stop the lusty images pelting through his mind.
‘It was amazing. Crystal Sugar. You seen it?’
‘No. Should I?’
‘Hell, yes,’ she answered fervently. ‘It’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it. Not even in London. The costumes were ah-may-zing.’
‘Costumes?’ He grinned and listened to her talk on. So she was a showgirl at heart? It certainly hadn’t taken much to pop that cork and get her flowing. Good. It was a perfect neutral topic. Because he wasn’t going to get personal. They were just sharing a sleeping space. Nothing more complicated than that. ‘You wish you were up there onstage?’
‘Oh, no.’ She sounded appalled.
‘Just a fan?’ She seemed too enthralled for that.
There was a momentary pause. ‘I really do like the costumes. That’s what I studied. Costume design.’
‘Wow.’ She was a designer? ‘That’s great.’ But it didn’t quite seem right to him. She looked more suited to limelight than lurking in the wings. With those aquamarine eyes, the blonde hair, the camera-conscious sleek figure, she was the epitome of starlet-in-waiting. ‘So that’s what you want to do? You’re not really a wannabe actress hoping to make it big here?’
‘Never.’ Oddly, her laugh verged on hysterical. ‘No. I’m all for the costumes. I like the backstage stuff. I’d love to get a wardrobe technician job here.’
‘And a wardrobe technician...?’
‘Preserves the integrity of the costumes, keeps them pristine and looking the way the designer envisioned,’ she answered.
‘They don’t stay pristine?’ He half laughed.
‘Not always, no,’ she answered primly. ‘The dances are energetic so sometimes things tear. And get sweaty.’
Ah. He really didn’t want to think ‘energetic’ and ‘sweaty’ right now. Not when he’d only just mastered his own mind. For a nanosecond.
‘They’re really heavy,’ she continued. ‘And hot. And they take hours of work.’
Hot. Like him, then. ‘You’re fully into it.’
‘That’s what I want to do, yes. I’ve finished a design course in London. Now it’s time to get the job.’
‘But first you have this month in New York.’ Spending all her money on seeing the shows and half starving in the process. He heard her draw in a deep breath and let it out in a sleepy sigh.
‘Yes.’
He rubbed the heel of his hand hard over his forehead and told himself she was answering the comment he’d actually muttered aloud, not answered the question he ached to put to her. Now other questions pressed. How did she know George? Why had he offered her the use of the condo? Why was she so wary of the media? But the question bugging him most of all was whether he’d still taste that chocolate if he kissed her now.
He wanted to kiss her everywhere.
Yeah, the lustful thoughts hadn’t gone far for long.
‘Goodnight,’ she murmured. ‘Sleep tight.’
He wryly smiled in the darkness at her last sweet mumble. With temptation lying a mere breath away, sleep wasn’t going to win in a hurry.
