Cherish Hard
Page 20

His lips curved, satisfaction unfurling in his gut.
His spitfire thought she’d kissed him, seduced him, then made a clean getaway, but now he knew how to track her down. Of course, she was also the boss’s daughter, and he really shouldn’t be thinking about messing with her.
That was when fate laughed.
13
Sharp Kitten Heels and Fur-Lined Handcuffs
ÍSA COULDN’T BELIEVE WHAT HER mother had done.
So angry that she could burst, she barely managed to say hello to James and Lana. She knew them, of course; she knew everyone who worked for Crafty Corners, the business having one of the best retention rates in the industry. Because she did—and because they had nothing to do with Jacqueline’s latest chess move—she made an effort to be polite even though she wanted to kick the desk.
Today was the icing on top of the hideous cake that had been her Saturday night. A night she’d run through her mind over and over again as she stared at Sailor’s number. She’d almost pushed it a thousand times, almost called him just so she could yell at him for having awful taste in friends.
How was she supposed to let down her guard around a man who liked Cody?
A man who’d seen what Cody had done to her and still called him a friend.
That infuriated her the most.
But at this instant, it wasn’t Sailor who was the focus of her temper.
“She’s got someone with her.” James physically got in her way, having clearly read her mood and figured out where she was headed.
He wasn’t a big man, and Ísa was pretty sure she could take him, but she reminded herself that James wasn’t responsible for this, that it was Jacqueline who deserved to be at the other end of Ísa’s volcanic rage.
“Not one of us,” James added with a mischievous cast to his expression. “Possible contractor, Ginny thinks. Gorgeous as hell, killer blue eyes.”
Ísa hated gorgeous men right now. Especially ones with blue eyes.
Fisting her hand by her side, the cotton of her floral summer dress brushing against her knuckles, she said, “I’ll go up and wait” through teeth it took her conscious effort not to grit. “It won’t take me long to say what I have to say.”
Running up the steps before James could find a way to delay her any further to give her temper a chance to cool—Ísa did not want a cool head right now—she was mentally eviscerating her mother when she took a step up and almost crashed into a big man in a dark gray suit, his shirt a vivid blue.
“I’m so sorry,” she began… and then the hot, masculine scent of him punched into her system and her eyes met his.
Blue, so very blue. “Hello, little rabbit.”
Her heart stuttered, her entire body motionless. So convinced was she that she was hallucinating that she reached out and poked him in the chest. “You’re real,” she said, her brain struggling to shift gears.
Eyes glinting dangerously, he grabbed hold of her wrist, the grip steely. “Just as real as I was when you were wrapped around me, all slippery wet and naked.” He smelled like soap and aftershave today, but below that was a raw earthiness that was just him.
Her lips parted, her skin flushed, and—
An elevator dinged in the distance.
Ísa’s brain came to a screeching halt, the gear set firmly on FURY. “What,” she said in a tone as frigid as she could make it despite the erotic heat low in her belly, “are you doing here?” The only mercy was that this part of the staircase was hidden from view by the curve of the wall. Two steps in either direction and they’d be back in public view.
“Had a meeting with your mother,” said the a six-foot-plus symbol of Ísa’s terrible instincts. “Landscaping contract.” A tug on her wrist. “But we have something else to discuss, Ms. I’ll Call You When I Get Home.” He actually had the nerve to sound as if she was the one in the wrong.
Ísa gave in. She kicked him right in the shin with the pointy tip of her kitten-heeled shoe.
Wincing, he glared at her. “I bought handcuffs especially for you. Obviously I need to get leg cuffs too.” He’d backed her up against the wall before she realized what he was doing.
Too furious to worry about someone coming up or down the stairs, she narrowed her eyes. “How’s Cody?”
His expression turned to granite. “What Cody did that night,” he said, proving he remembered the entire ugly incident, “was an asshole thing to do, but then that’s who he is. Someone needs to teach him a lesson.”
“Right”—Ísa barely resisted the urge to kick his other shin—“as if you two aren’t creepy best buds.”
“Spitfire, I was a sixteen-year-old kid who managed to get into a college party.” He pressed his weight into her body, as if reading her violent thoughts on her face. “Cody was just some guy.”
Wait, what? Sixteen?
“How old are you?” she said through a bone-dry throat.
A wicked grin. “Younger than you. You be my cougar, I’ll be your boy toy.”
She was going to strangle him, honest to God. Now he was playing with her, as if everything was hunky dory. “Are you seriously asking me to believe you two aren’t buddies now? I saw a photo of you at a rugby game.”
A blank look. “We play for different clubs. I was probably saying thanks for the game. Doesn’t mean I can stand the guy. My parents brought me up to be a good sportsman.”
Ísa wasn’t ready to let go of her fury. “Right,” she said in a tone that called him a liar. “That’s why you didn’t mention that night when we first met.”
Thunderclouds across his face. “I didn’t make the connection then,” he said, his voice ominous. “And as for that…” He gripped his chin, rubbed in mock thoughtfulness. “I do believe I was innocently going about my work when a certain redhead decided to use me to scratch an itch. She didn’t seem interested in introductions or talking.”
He refused to let her break the demanding eye contact.
“You weren’t innocently working,” Ísa said desperately because he’d just smashed her defenses to pieces. “You were doing a striptease!”
Pressing his forehead to hers, Sailor ran the pad of his thumb over the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. “Are you saying I set you up by taking off my shirt? That you were rendered helpless by my manly physique? If so…” A slow smile. “I’ll take it.”
He smelled far too good, and she was losing the thread of why she’d been so furious with him. “You really don’t stay in touch with Cody?” she found herself saying.
“He’s not my kind.” Open disgust in his words. “Can’t avoid the guy totally though since he plays rugby in the same social league as me.”
It was no surprise that this strong, physical man would play a game that involved bruising tackles and hard runs.
A strong, physical man who was twenty-freaking-three!
Ísa wasn’t into robbing the cradle. Or following her father’s example into multiple marriages with increasingly youthful lovers. “I have to go. If you could please get out of my way, I need to speak to Jacqueline before her next appointment arrives.”
He didn’t move so much as an inch, his body a heated wall of muscle that taunted her. “That’s it? You just use me and discard me?”