Stranded For One Scandalous Week (Mills & Boon Modern) (Rebels, Brothers, Billionaires Book 1), Natalie Anderson [android e book reader .txt] 📗

‘You want me to wear coveralls to a fancy restaurant?’

‘You can wear whatever you want,’ he answered easily. ‘I’ll find you as delectable as ever.’

She gazed at him and sighed, almost sadly. ‘You do it so easily, you’re not even aware of it.’

‘Do what?’

‘Seduce me into saying yes.’

CHAPTER NINE

ASH LEANED BACK against the table, drumming his fingertips on the wood behind him and debating whether he ought to knock on the door and ask if she was okay. She’d been locked in the bedroom of their hotel suite for over an hour. Was she worrying? Was she literally hiding again? He felt uneasy and he never felt uneasy. But she’d been taking too long. He straightened up, deciding to go, and then the door opened. Adrenaline blasted, stopping him dead. He was only able to stare.

‘What are you wearing?’ he croaked.

He’d not meant to say that. Not meant to question her choices or sound judgmental and make her self-conscious. But her smile flashed. Not just any smile—brilliant, unguarded, a tiny bit self-satisfied—so he knew she’d not taken his moronic question any of those wrong ways. She’d heard the underlying truth—he was stunned and too caught up in staring at her to care.

‘I like how it feels,’ she said.

Anticipation tightened every muscle. His beautiful secret sensualist was wearing a jumpsuit unlike anything he’d ever seen. A week ago he’d never have thought he’d find any kind of coveralls sexy, yet here it was happening again. But these weren’t for protective purpose. They were scarlet and silk and sleeveless, and skimmed her body, clinging to the fullest points of her curves. The deep vee drew his eye and the fabric flowed as she walked towards him—in scarlet high heels to match. She’d left her hair loose so it hung down her back in a rich brunette swathe. Impossibly, her skin was even more radiant. She’d look less visible in a little black dress that revealed far more skin. This was so much better than that. This was Merle doing her thing, her way. The smile in her eyes felled him all over again.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

‘I don’t think so.’ He groaned, literally backing away from her. ‘We’d better go.’

He barely noticed the restaurant, barely tasted the food, was barely aware of the service or of anyone else present. He could only see her. He didn’t know how he kept up with her banter. It was as if his brain had been stupefied.

‘Will you dance with me?’ he asked, unable to sit still a second longer.

For the first time all evening doubt shadowed her eyes. ‘It might be more stand and sway than spin, okay?’

Stand and sway sounded perfect. He ached to get his hands on her—to anchor himself, to ensure she was real. As they walked towards that darkened area, he was aware of heads turning. Of course people looked—she was stunning. But it hauled up other concerns. While he wanted the world to appreciate her, he also wanted to keep her to himself. Suddenly he felt possessive.

Even here in Auckland he was recognisable. The media in Australia had followed him for years. When he’d first turned his back on his father he’d welcomed the stupid society gossip blogs, annual most-eligible lists, relentless speculation and stories, all fuel to which he was the flame, to shame his father. But he didn’t want Merle exposed to any negativity. If people found out what he’d been up to this week? It could totally be construed as a scandal. He’d seduced an innocent. Kept her in his holiday home to be his lover. It sounded as bad and mad as if he’d locked her in that damn bunker.

Wasn’t it worse than humiliating Rose? Never had he been as selfish. But Merle was an adult—she’d asked. She’d wanted and she’d taken. This was a scandal they’d both desired and they were both determined to make the most of. But he couldn’t help pointing out the problem to her.

‘People are watching,’ he muttered. ‘Are you okay with that?’

‘Oh, I’m fine.’ She grinned. ‘They’re watching you.’

They were not.

‘Okay—’ she shot him a sideways look, together with an impish grin ‘—they’re looking at me too. But I don’t mind.’

He’d wanted to spoil her. He’d wanted her to have a night where the spotlight was on and she could see she could do more than survive in its light. He’d wanted to see and feel the world through her perspective some more because that hope, that optimism she had, was tantalising when he’d lost his so long ago.

‘If you’d had cameras in your face all the time, trust me, you’d start to mind,’ he muttered.

‘Maybe.’ Merle nodded.

Right now she didn’t really care about anything—she was too busy basking in the glow of Ash’s attention. How he’d worked out that people were watching them she didn’t know because he’d not taken his eyes off her and it was thrilling. But it was more than his attention: it was his influence and his outrageousness that encouraged her own sense of liberation. He’d bluntly pointed out her right to speak up. That he lived and moved with such confidence inspired her to answer back, to be as blunt and as honest.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care about consequences, of course she did, but she wasn’t afraid of them in the way she had been for half her life. She felt alive, as if she had vitality and fight within her to stand not just beside him but also in front of him and be bold. It was invigorating. Enriching. Addictive. She spread her hand across his chest, feeling his tension, the powerful thump of his heart against her palm. Ash did not stay still. He was full of vigour and vitality and humour. He had more energy than anyone she’d ever met—a freewheeling force of nature. But he’d been so careful with her. Tender. He’d channelled all that energy, focused it