He's the One, Jane Beckenham [best new books to read TXT] 📗

has marred its elegance, but a bit of cleaning and it will be back to its stately proportions,” Taylor reviewed.

"You feel all this from touch?"

Taylor's head tilted to one side, and she looked at him, searching his face. “Don't you?"

"Uh ... I suppose."

"It's not simply touch, Cade, but all the senses. Sight, sound, smell, touch, and yes, probably even taste. We're close to where the fishing boats used to moor and deposit their catch, so the smell of salt and fish is integral to the building and its history. It's all there; we just have to pull it from the building's past."

Seeing Cade's eyes flicker as if he thought her nuts, Taylor suddenly realized she was prattling and slammed her lips firmly closed. She shrugged, giving him an impish sort of grin.

"You trying to get me in touch with my softer side, Taylor? It's bricks and mortar. Dollars and cents. Nothing else. At least, so my bank manager keeps reminding me."

Taylor wagged her finger at him. “Cade Harper, where's your romance?"

"Don't have any. Told you that."

"Yes, you do."

The air between them hung heavy with innuendo. Cade tightened his grip on her fingers imperceptibly and a liquid heat slid through her veins. Her breathing stopped .

Hot became scorching as he brought her fingertips to his parted lips, just touching. The warm wash of his breath fluttered against their tips, and her expectation rampaged.

Then, he kissed them.

One fingertip at a time.

Slowly.

And he looked right into her soul.

"Never confuse business with pleasure, Ms. Sullivan."

And with that, he dropped her hand and stuck the key in the antiquated lock, turning it under protest. Shoulder to the door, he pushed it open and strode into the abyss, leaving Taylor to follow.

Cade circled the vast space and then walked to the nearest wall. Reaching out, he ripped a piece of tattered wallpaper off in one long, single tear. He held the shabby strip in one hand. “Welcome to my empire. What do you want to know?"

Taylor's insides pitted themselves in a conflict for control. She hid her hands behind her back, locking her fingers to prevent their shaking. Eyeing the room, she slowly counted to ten, knowing she needed to remain calm.

"What game are you playing, Cade? One minute you're all hot..."

"Hot, as in sexy?"

"Don't put me off. You know exactly what I mean. You're playing sex games."

"And you have a problem with this?"

Yeah, but she wouldn't admit to him she was scared witless.

"The next, you're as cold as ice—in the emotional sense. I don't know if I'm up to this any more. Let's forget the deal."

"No!” Cade's shout echoed through the derelict building. “You can't. We can't."

"Of course we can,” Taylor reasoned. “It's not a legal deal, nothing formal."

Cade reached out and caught her elbow, turning her to him and pulling her close—so close she could hear his breathing, see the flicker of gold in his darkened gaze.

"But how can you disappoint your clients?” he challenged.

"Low blow, Cade.” And damn it, she felt cornered. One part of her wanted to run for the hills, while the other part of her wanted to jump his bones, right here, right now. Her thoughts returned to the repeated phone calls, the desperate pleas of nervous brides.

Her knees wobbled beneath her and she sank down on to an upended crate, dust and cobwebs tangling with her bare legs. She looked up at Cade. Dark semi-circles shadowed beneath his eyes, and the rake-like hair that had seen his hand brush through too many times made her heart skip several beats.

You can do this.

Keep things business-like, she reminded herself.

Fingers twining behind her back to prevent them from shaking, she spoke.

"What have you got in mind, Cade?"

"That would be telling, but from the look of you,” he said and gave her a direct stare, “I think, business before pleasure."

Taylor's jaw dropped. “Can you read minds?"

"Depends on what you're thinking. If it's as wicked as what I'm thinking, we could be in for lots of fun,” he said, winking. “Come on.” He grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers through hers and tugged slightly when she resisted.

But only a fraction. She could never resist him too long. And that scared her more than she cared to admit.

"The building,” Cade informed her as he offered a guided tour “consists of about half a dozen rooms. The main one will be used for the cocktail bar, while several of the smaller ones, for private parties and corporate events."

"Do you have a theme?"

Cade frowned, then his expression turned to horrified, and Taylor choked back a fit of laughter.

"You mean like those weddings you plan?"

"Don't panic. I won't cover the place in miles of pink tulle or too much frou frou."

"Who said I was panicking?"

"Your face says it all."

"You mean you can read me like a book?"

She wished.

"If that's the case, I better watch out. A man's gotta have some mystery."

The playful banter was fun—as if she'd known him for years, not a couple of days.

"Come on, there's more.” Cade directed her towards a staircase to the right of the main door. As they drew alongside it, Cade ran a hand over the carved mahogany banister.

"This is beautiful. True craftsmanship,” he said, brushing the dust aside to reveal the still smooth ambience of the dark wood.

"See,” Taylor joked, “there is an itty bit of romance in that heart of yours, after all."

He shrugged and gave her one of those smiles again; the ones that set her heart thumping and her body wanting. “Could be."

An hour later, Taylor closed her folder on the screeds of notes.

"You got enough information?"

"I hope so. I can always come back."

"Sure. Anytime."

Cade might have agreed, but Taylor wasn't so sure “anytime” was a good idea. Anytime, changed business to pleasure, somehow.

She peered through the dust-coated window at a day divested of sunshine. The streetlights had switched on, and the ever-present sound of city traffic had reduced considerably.

"You hungry?” Cade asked as they wound back towards the head of the stairs.

"An ox wouldn't go amiss,”