Page 36 of Catching Trouble

It might have seemed an odd thing to do. I mean, what was wrong with just holding up my finger? But he curled an eyebrow at the gesture.

He didn’t argue, giving the tiniest nod before looping the twine around my wrist.

I followed his movements, but whatever he was doing looked a world away from the bunny ears my mum demoed when she taught me to tie my shoelaces.

With his last movement, Maxime completed the knot, wrapping his fingers around my wrist, examining his work in the dim light. His skin seared into mine and at the faintest brush of his breath on my cheek, my head swam.

“Can you show me how it works?” I whispered. Honestly, was I a masochist? Apparently, I had no control over my mouth tonight.

After a beat, Maxime pulled the knot tighter, the twine digging into my skin.

I took a shaky breath, begging Saint Matthias, the Apostle, patron saint of self-control, for his special spiritual cocktail.

“This is the tension,” Maximesaid, his voice low and husky. “When anything swims into the net…” He pulled the knot even tighter. “It’s impossible to escape.”

I swallowed hard—a tiny tingle springing low in my belly. “And if I wanted to escape?”

The corners of Maxime’s lips nudged into a tight smile. “You’d have to ask nicely.” As he spoke, he tugged on the other end of the twine and as quickly as he’d tied it, the knot unravelled.

“How did you learn to do that?”

Maxime tipped his head to one side, sliding the twine from my wrist. With his eyes glued to me, he flipped my hand and dropped the small knot into my palm. “Practice. And patience.”

His fiery gaze could burn down a building. He wrapped his hand around mine, closing my fingers over the twine. His skin lingered longer than necessary, but before I could do anything reckless, or say anything crazy, my kitten-friend mewled softly, breaking the spell.

My boss shifted, his gaze lingering on my mouth. “I should go to bed,” he said. “Tomorrow’s high tide is early. Sleep well, Chloe.”

With a nod, he stepped away from the frame—and me.

I watched his broad back vanish into the villa. My mouth gaped, and I traced the inky shapes on his skin. What I wouldn’t give to touch them. Run my fingers over their lines. Trace the patterns.

But this wasn’t that kind of night. I was supposed to be cooling off, for goodness’ sake, not auditioning for a starring role in his private fantasies.

I shook the thoughts from my head and stroked the kitten. He’d formed a loaf on a cushion and purred like an engine. Maybe his cuteness could be a talisman to ward off the impure thoughts marauding through my head.

I dragged in a breath, stepping away from Maxime’s net frame. I should go to bed. But if I couldn’t sleep before, there was absolutely no chance now.

12

CHLOE

Ipeeked out of Maxime’s bedroom door, into the hall. Through a covert operation of stealthy elimination, I’d worked out that his room was the only spot at the villa with a stable mobile signal. Wasn’t that just my luck?

Thankfully, he was down at the club or fishing, so I had to make hay while the sun shone. He’d be horrified I was here, alone in his personal space.

Certain Sophie wasn’t nearby, I closed the door, leaning against the cool wood. Maxime’s presence clung to every molecule in the room. His cologne—sweet but earthy—mingled with the salty breeze drifting through the open window and the soft scent of laundry from the small pile of folded clothes at the foot of the bed.

He had tightened his crisp white sheets, leaving them wrinkle-free. There were no clothes on the floor. Every surface was empty, and no mug rings marred the furniture. I cast my mind to the annex and the chaos I unleashed every time I stepped out of bed in the morning.

I chuckled, bringing the phone to my ear. “You still there?”

“Er, yeah. But sounds like you’re having way more fun than me.”

I shook my head, as if Iris could see. “Every day’s a blast at Chez Maxime.”

She scoffed. Well, it’s nice to hear from you at last. I figured you’d be off the grid while travelling, but we’re in the same country. Your radio silence is turning into a habit.”

She wasn’t wrong. I could spend endless hours chatting with Iris or Esmé from the club, if I wanted. But I’d been well and truly sidetracked.