Page 15 of Dangerous Temptation

She smoothed her H&M dress. It was the third outfit she’d tried on.

It had a scooped neck and was of fitted lace with a sewn-in slip dress underneath.

The slender shoulder straps made the outfit more appropriate for summer, but the black colour gave it a pricey look.

Considering that she hadn’t packed for fancy dinners when she’d come here, it was the best she could do on short notice – especially with reporters still blocking the exits.

‘You look beautiful,’ he said.

She pressed a hand to her stomach as his gaze raked over her, slow and hot.

He reached for her and she jumped, instinctively looking over her shoulder in case Marta was still watching. Colour flooded her face when, instead of his touch, she heard the tinkle of ice in a glass. A bemused look came over his face as he swirled the amber liquid. ‘Can I get you something?’

Absolutely not. By all rights she should remain clear-headed, but it would be nice to have something to hold onto. Something that might ease her nerves …

‘White wine?’ she said throatily.

‘I’m sure we can find something that will do the trick.

’ This time he did touch her, his hand settling against the small of her back.

With strides measured to match hers, he led her to the open archway.

He stopped as they walked through it, though, and looked back.

‘How much time do we have before dinner is ready, Marta?’

The cook pirouetted around the corner, biting her lower lip. She’d been caught hovering, and she knew it. ‘A while, Master Wolfe. I’m just starting on the risotto.’

‘Excellent,’ he murmured.

No. Not excellent. Elena pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she walked into the open grand room with the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Minute rice would be fine for her. Alex’s hand felt huge on the small of her back as he led her to the wet bar, and she could have sworn that his thumb moved over the ends of her hair.

The touch was impersonal and intimate at the same time, and she shivered at the coolness she felt when it left her.

‘2008 Leflaive Puligny-Montrachet?’

She licked lips that were suddenly dry as paper. ‘Whatever you have is fine.’

His grey gaze was steady. ‘I think you’ll like it.’

Unlike her, he seemed rock solid – unembarrassed by what had happened – although a bit curious.

Maybe he rolled around on the floor with neighbours all the time.

He was certainly rich enough and handsome enough to get any woman he wanted.

According to the magazines and online blogs, he hadn’t passed on many opportunities to ‘social network’.

Yet he had been imprisoned for the last eighteen months …

Elena drank from the glass he passed to her. He might be a man of the world, cultured and suave, but she wasn’t as easygoing. She didn’t sleep around. She’d had steady boyfriends, but she’d never –

‘Mmm,’ she murmured with pleasure. The flavour of the expensive wine spread over her tongue like smooth honey. She swallowed, tasting the unexpected spiced notes, and was distracted.

He caught her hand. ‘That’s better.’

He drew her to the sofa. She kept a respectable distance between them as they sat, but the white leather was unexpectedly comfortable.

The cushions were so deep, they sucked her in and defied her to remain rigid.

She sat up straighter, near the edge, and crossed her ankles.

She couldn’t allow her guard to drop, not around him.

Hand tightening around her drink, she took another deep sip. The wind was rising outside. The trees were swaying and those last leaves were fluttering wildly. Inside the mansion, though, she didn’t hear the wind’s howl.

‘Did I ever thank you for what you did?’ he finally asked, his low voice breaking the silence that had taken over the room.

She looked at him through her lashes.

‘For rescuing me.’ There was no curve at all to his lips. He wasn’t teasing or being coy.

‘I … I don’t remember,’ she replied.

‘Thank you.’

The words were honest and heartfelt. They weren’t characteristics she’d normally associate with a Wolfe, and they made her chest tighten. ‘You’re welcome.’

Their gazes connected and, in that moment, something passed between them.

Not trust, no, but something maybe closer to empathy.

Worried about what that connection might be, Elena focused harder on the windows.

The sun was setting, but there weren’t any golden flecks on the water.

The sky had been overcast all day long, and the lake was just growing darker and more opaque.

‘Haunting, isn’t it?’ she remarked.

His ice clanked. ‘More than you know.’

‘What do you mean?’

He shrugged, his gaze snagging on the rough water. ‘This place is full of memories for me. They keep popping up when I least expect it.’

And not all of them were good. He was hard to read, practically detached, but she could feel how his mood changed. It was subtle, but she was beginning to notice the difference.

‘Did you grow up here?’

‘No, but my parents would send me here to spend the summers.’

‘With your grandfather?’

‘This is his house.’

The temperature in the place had just dropped ten degrees. Elena considered her host. She felt an icy rage every time she thought about Bartholomew Wolfe, but why would he? The answer dawned like a light bulb.

His grandfather had gotten away with it.

‘Why come here then?’ she asked. He’d spent the last eighteen months in prison. Why make this the first place he’d come when he’d regained his freedom?

‘The seclusion and the privacy. I’d have preferred to go to my apartment in Manhattan, but I knew this place would be more secure.’

More secure? Or would he have better access to what he and his co-conspirators had left behind?

He drew up his left leg and rested his ankle on his opposite knee. His foot bounced restlessly. ‘I’m sorry you got caught up in all the drama. The press tends to follow me wherever I go.’

So he’d known this would happen, while she’d been blindsided once again. The delicious wine turned a little bitter in her mouth. ‘You didn’t know I was here,’ she murmured.

‘No,’ he said softly. ‘I didn’t.’

They watched the water as it slapped against the side of the dock. It was like observing a silent movie, with action going on all around but no soundtrack.

‘Leonard said that the paparazzi harassed you, that it was the reason you came here.’

She ran her finger around the lip of her glass. Reporters and others had run her out of town on a rail, but he didn’t need to know that. The less he knew about the power he’d held over her life, the better. ‘I’d rather not talk about it.’

His foot stopped bouncing, and his gaze grabbed hers. ‘I’m happy to provide you refuge. You can stay as long as you want or need to.’

‘I got the impression that you didn’t like the intrusion on your property.’

‘I didn’t,’ he confessed. ‘I wasn’t happy when I discovered you were staying at the lake house, but yesterday I was glad you were here.’

Because of the door? Or because of the sex?

Elena took a gulp of her wine, the flavour returning full and strong.

There was a huge pink elephant standing in the middle of the room and they were both ignoring it.

They’d had sex. Quick, can’t-get-to-it-fast-enough sex.

They both knew it. The cook and the butler had to know it. Yet nobody was acknowledging it.

The air in the open room became heavy. Pulsing. It sparked when his hand covered hers where she’d braced it against the sofa.

‘I’m beginning to think it would be nice not to be so alone.’

Her eyelids dipped. She’d had to be strong for so long. For a moment, the tiniest of seconds, she let herself sink into the feeling of kinship. The wine, the comfortable surroundings and especially the handsome man at her side tugged at her. The offer of protection was seductive.

His fingers laced with hers, and his palm encompassed the back of her hand. His touch was warm while her fingers were cold. Her fingers curled, digging into the soft leather.

So tempting.

And so very wrong.

She pulled her hand away. He let her go, and she stood on unsteady legs. She tilted her glass for another sip, but discovered it was empty.

He stood in a motion that was so fluid, it made her take a step back. It still surprised her how tall and swift he was.

He took her glass from her chilled fingers. ‘Let me get you a refill.’

Not a good idea. She could already feel the effects. She hadn’t had much to eat since his unexpected invitation, and she was a lightweight. Literally. She was petite, and alcohol affected her more than others.

‘Maybe later.’ She smoothed her dress self-consciously. It had cost her a whole thirty-five dollars. The wine glass she’d just clenched like a lifeline was probably worth as much. ‘Can I get that book?’

She couldn’t sit on that luxurious sofa with him any longer. The cushions just made her want to curl into them … and him …

‘Of course. Right this way – but you know that.’

His touch settled again on the place on her back, although a little higher this time, under the sweep of her hair.

Awareness unfurled in her belly as they began that long walk down the hall.

The closer they got to the library, the more she focused on the day before.

The sounds she’d heard … The desperation she’d felt in the air …

That wounded man couldn’t have been further from the one she found today.

This Alex Wolfe was quiet, composed and focused. Steel-like in his control.

Yet just as rawly sexual.

Which was the real Wolfe? Had she even met him yet?