The Dare Collection: August 2018. Avril Tremayne

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      We faced off, a vortex of thunder and lightning swirling around us, eddying us dangerously closer. “It said I had to relinquish reasonable power to you. Not all power.”

      “‘There will be times when the fixer may have to take an act-first-explain-later approach to a situation. The client agrees to comply if such a situation arises.’ Did you make a note of that line?” His voice was low but deadly soft.

      “Sure, I read that part. And you’re probably used to having your every mandate agreed to immediately. Unfortunately, you and I will have a big problem if you insist on being...rigid.”

      “I can be as flexible as any situation demands. But not in this case. You forget. You need me.”

      I hated my words being thrown back in my face. Almost as much as I’d hated the thought of hiring a bodyguard and waiting the stalker out.

      I was weeks from being free of Chance and my stepfather. The thought of adding even an extra hour’s delay to that liberating moment was unacceptable. Still, relinquishing control was hard. “Do you find a client taking charge of their own safety a deal breaker for you?”

      My question seemed to throw him off. A tiny frown pleated his brow, and then his striking blue gaze left mine to scour my body before returning to my face. As I watched, he reeled himself in. Like the man, his expression was fascinating to watch. It was as if he’d been in danger of overstepping a line and had coldly and ruthlessly corrected his course.

      “No, but if you want an obedient thug, feel free to pick one of those rent-a-cops outside.”

      “All right. If you’re up to something more challenging, then I agree to your terms.”

      The direct taunt to his supposedly flawless record—and yes, to his ego—was one I made with my breath held tight. For reasons I couldn’t fathom, I hated the thought of him walking away even more.

      With a single step, he closed the gap between us and lowered his lips to my ear. “Be very careful where you throw your little gauntlets, Lily Gracen. One might come back to bite you in your delectable ass.”

      It was impossible to stop the hot little shiver that raced through me. He saw it, and a bright blue flame lit his eyes.

      “Well, be warned. I bite back.”

      “This is going to be very interesting,” he mused. Then without taking his eyes from mine, he reached for his phone. I heard faint ringing in the background before it was answered.

      “Maggie, is the primary crew in place?”

      “Yes, they’ll land in Palo Alto in thirty minutes. They can be at Miss Gracen’s house in an hour. Do we have a green light?”

      He lowered the phone. “Do I have the green light, Lily?”

      “Your team is already in San Francisco. So you intended to take my case all along?”

      He shrugged. “I needed to make sure you were fully committed but I saw no reason not to start the ball rolling.”

      I took a steadying breath. “I don’t appreciate being toyed with, Mr. Steele.”

      All traces of humor left his face. “Then we’re in total agreement because this is no fucking joke.”

      His harsh reply tightened the skin on my nape, warned me there was something else going on here.

      “My guys are waiting,” he pressed. “All they’ll be doing tonight is setting up a few cameras outside the property and scoping out the area. They’re experts, trustworthy, handpicked by me. They won’t rifle through your underwear drawer or whatever naughty things you keep in your closet if that’s what you’re worried about. So, do I have the green light, Lily?” That last bit was muttered with a hot little taunt as his gaze raked my face.

      I fought to hold on to my irritation and dismiss the tiny lick of embarrassment.

      So okay, I wasn’t the tidiest person at the best of times. And being neck-deep in my project, I’d let my standards slip a little further and canceled my cleaning service because I hated the disruption. Which meant any number of personal items, including the ones I used to de-stress after a hard day’s coding, could be scattered anywhere in my house.

      The joy of living alone meant I could pleasure myself anywhere from my bathroom floor to the movie room lounger where I usually crashed when I couldn’t be bothered to drag myself to my bed. The thought of Caleb Steele’s men reporting my habits back to him made my palms burn with humiliation.

      Which was absurd.

      I was a grown woman, for heaven’s sake. One with healthy needs I wasn’t ashamed of satisfying in defiance of the restrictions Chance Donovan had tried to place on me.

      Nope, I wasn’t going to think about Chance or how he tried to control me through Scott, my ex-boyfriend.

      Very soon they’d both be so far in my rearview I’d need a telescope to see them.

      “You have the green light,” I said, blanking my mind to the possibility of my sex toys being discovered. “You’ll need a code to get into the house.”

      The small cocky smile that curved his lips suggested that he really didn’t, but he chose not to vocalize the fact. “Shoot.”

      I rattled out a long alphanumeric code. He impressed me by not asking me to repeat it and recited it to Maggie without hesitation.

      About to hang up, he paused when Maggie called his name. “Yes?”

      “The pilot is still on standby. I’m assuming you and the client are returning to Palo Alto, too?”

      “Yes, we’ll be at the airport in half an hour.” He hung up, the blue of his eyes drenching me with the sensation of being swallowed whole. “Come on. Let’s go get this bastard out of your life.”

      I grabbed my things and followed Caleb Steele outside with the distinct feeling he’d left out a vital part of his statement. Something along the lines of...and then we can get onto more important things.

      Or maybe that was all in my dirty imagination.

       CHAPTER THREE

      Lily

      IT WASN’T THE first time I’d ridden in a Bugatti—Silicon Valley was crawling with billionaire tech geeks who collected supercars like they were baseball cards.

      But it was the first time I’d ridden in a supercar driven by a man like Caleb Steele. And this, too, was turning out to be a sex-steeped experience.

      The man drove his car like he was making love to it. Scratch that. He drove like he was fucking it. Smooth. Sexy. Relentless. Each flick of the gear and flex of his thigh as he switched from gas to brake was a hypnotic symphony. One so absorbing I couldn’t look away.

      I realized my lip was caught between my teeth, and my fingers were digging into the soft leather, and forced СКАЧАТЬ