Page 37 of Untouchable

She knew what he was thinking. He was thinking that soon she’d cave and tell him all her secrets so he could get the answers to this new mystery that had intrigued him. He was pleased with himself for finding a way to snare a woman who refused to let herself get caught.

She had to let him think that even though it was wrong.

There was no way in hell she would ever tell this man her secrets.

“Okay,” she said after a long hesitation. “Fine. I’ll stay for now, but it’s not going to be for long.”

“Good.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get to work, but I’ll be back earlier today.”

“Okay. I’m really sorry about dragging?—”

“Don’t apologize again. I pressured you into coming here in the first place, didn’t I?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And I pressured you to stay. So I dragged myself into this. I might be able to help you if you let me.”

She checked his expression and saw he still wasn’t soft or tender. He did seem to want to help, but it was more like a challenge. A chance to prove that he was more powerful than this nameless criminal.

Men never really outgrew being boys.

She spent the day taking it easy, pretending to recover, and making plans. She even said hello to Ralph, the German shepherd. She asked if someone could take her over to her apartment so she could get some of her stuff, and—after phoning Caleb for permission—one of the security team drove her over. At six, she was in the window seat in her room, pretending to read. She was mostly just watching for Caleb’s car to return.

For the first time in a long time, she felt something akin to hope. There was no happy ending in this for her. She wasn’t deceived about that. The most she could hope for was a dark sort of victory.

Just an answer. A way to move on from a path in the woods with blood soaking into the dirt.

But, at this point, she’d be happy for even that.

Caleb normally stayed in his apartment in the city during the week, but he’d been driving out to his house in the evenings instead—she assumed because of her. At twenty after six, she saw his Mercedes pull in through the gates, and she put down her book.

She knew what she was going to do.

She was already dressed strategically, in a cream-colored camisole, sheer sweater, and a long, soft skirt. He’d teased her on Saturday about her bohemian appearance, but he’d also seemed to like it, so she figured she’d work with that. He thought she looked pure, innocent, untouched, like a blossom, so she would use that to her advantage too.

Her hair was hanging down long and loose, and she was barefoot.

She went up to his bedroom, sat on the edge of his bed, and waited, her heartbeat speeding up from growing nerves.

This would work. She was convinced it would work.

Lighten the mood. Give him hot sex. Make her presence emotionally safe for him so he wouldn’t start to take a step back.

Caleb blinked in surprise when he walked into the room and saw she was waiting for him. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t look annoyed. In fact, as she watched, she thought she saw a spark of interest and pleasure ignite in his eyes. He was surveying her appearance with leisurely possessiveness.

She cleared her throat, trying to look grateful and a little shy. “I was afraid I might not have conveyed appropriate appreciation yesterday. Or even this morning. I was kind of shaken by everything, but I’m feeling better now. So I wanted to thank you.”

His eyes had been lingering on the outline of her nipples through her thin camisole, but he raised them to her face to meet her gaze. “So this is a thank-you?”

“Not this exactly,” she said, a lilt in her voice. She stood up, hiding a little smile. “You’ll see.”

“Ah.” He smiled back, obviously reading her intent. He started to take off his suit jacket. “What did you have in mind?”

“I thought I’d help you…unwindafter a hard day of work, if that’s of any interest to you.” She smiled again, letting her own gaze crawl over his fine body in its expensive suit and tie. She focused on the front of his pants and was pleased that he was already getting aroused. “I see you like that idea.”

“I think it’s possible you might like it yourself.”