Bedded for His Pleasure: Bedded by a Bad Boy / In the Gardener's Bed / The Return of the Rebel. Heidi Rice

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СКАЧАТЬ I’d fall for that one.’

      Striking blue eyes stared daggers at her out of a face that would have done Michelangelo proud. The man was quite simply beautiful. Jessie gulped, momentarily transfixed, taking in the high, slashing cheekbones, the rakish stubble on his chin and the daredevil scar across his left eyebrow. Adonis or not, his face was as hard as granite. He looked ready to murder someone and, from the way his fingers dug into her arms, she knew exactly who it was.

      Her heart rate shot up to warp speed. Don’t pass out, you silly cow. This is no time to panic. Twisting, Jessie kicked out with her bare foot and connected with his shin.

      ‘Ow! Stop that, you little…’ he yelled, yanking her towards him and wrapping his arms around her.

      ‘Let me go. You—you trespasser.’ With her face pressed against the soft, curling hair on his chest, the demand came out on a muffled squeak. The smell of fresh, wet male was overpowering. She lifted her knee, intending to stamp on his foot, but before she could make contact he tensed and shot backwards.

      ‘Watch out!’

      His hands let go. Jessie turned, poised to bolt for freedom, but he grabbed her from behind. Strong arms banded under her breasts, he lifted her off the ground as if she weighed nothing at all. She kicked, frantically, but he was holding her so close, so tight, she couldn’t get any leverage.

      Okay, now was the perfect time to panic.

      ‘My sister’s in the house with a shotgun,’ she squealed.

      ‘Yeah, right.’ His arms tightened, cutting off more of her air supply. ‘You’re a danger to society, you know that?’

      The buzzing in Jessie’s ears became deafening. She was going to faint. His whole body was wrapped around her. His size, his strength, overwhelmed her. Why hadn’t she listened to Ali? How the hell did she always get into these situations? And how was she going to get out of this one?

      The whisper of his breathing against her ear made her shudder.

      What would Bruce do now? Think, woman, think. ‘I’m warning you,’ she said, through gritted teeth. ‘If you don’t let me go, I’ll hurt you, a lot.’

      Monroe’s lips twitched. Having gotten over the humiliation of falling for his captive’s harebrained stunt, he had to admire her gall. The threat was ridiculous. She was close to a foot shorter than him and slender, too, despite the impressive curves he could feel pressed against his forearms. ‘You’re a real firecracker, aren’t you?’

      She must have heard the admiration in his voice, because she went very still. He loosened his arms a little. He should probably let her go and get the hell out of here, but she felt good in his arms, round and soft in all the right places. He wasn’t going to hurt her, but he figured she deserved a little payback. After all, she’d scared the hell out of him.

      ‘So how exactly are you going to hurt me?’ He purred the words in her ear.

      ‘You don’t frighten me, you complete sod.’

      ‘Sod, huh?’ He grinned; her clipped, precise accent made her sound like the lady of the manor addressing one of her peasants. It made him think of all those summers he’d spent in London as a kid with his English grandmother. It was one of the very few good memories from his childhood. He grinned. ‘You are English, I’d know that accent anywhere. Hell, I’m half English myself. Kind of.’

      ‘Isn’t that flipping lovely for you?’

      Funny, but she didn’t remind him of prim and proper Granny Lacey one bit.

      ‘Tut-tut.’ He inhaled the heady scent from her wildly curling hair. ‘And my sweet little granny always used to say English manners were the best in the world.’

      ‘I’ll give you manners,’ she snarled, wriggling some more.

      He laughed, really starting to enjoy himself. She was rigid in his arms, but he could feel her chest heaving with fury. He could imagine that pretty face of hers, glowing with temper. High cheekbones, smooth peach-toned skin, the sprinkle of freckles across her pert little nose, and those large, expressive sea-green eyes. He’d only glimpsed her face for a moment, but it had made a hell of an impression. She struggled again, and the firm swell of her butt pressed against his naked belly through the clingy little dress she had on.

      The strong surge of arousal surprised him. He tightened his arms. She smelled good, too. ‘You know, you’re cute.’ He smiled, nuzzling her hair. ‘When you’re not trying to kill me.’

      ‘You are so going to die,’ she snapped back.

      ‘Get your hands off her!’

      Monroe’s head jerked up.

      A man with a savage scowl on his face marched across the patio towards them. The little girl skipping along beside him didn’t make him look any less threatening. Monroe registered the heavily pregnant woman behind them, but kept his gaze focused on the big guy.

      The situation didn’t seem quite so funny any more.

      ‘Damn it.’ Monroe let go of Miss Firecracker. She turned, glared at him, her green eyes sparking with fury, and then dashed over to the pregnant lady.

      ‘Who are you and what the hell are you doing on my property?’ the man bellowed.

      Monroe held up his hands and tried to think fast. The guy was maybe an inch over his own six feet two and well built, but the tailored pants and pricey designer polo shirt he wore made him look rich and cultured. Monroe figured he could take him. But he couldn’t swing at the guy when he had a kid beside him. And he didn’t want to add assault to a trespassing charge if the cops arrived. Which left diplomacy as his only option.

      ‘I just took a swim in your pool. I thought the place was empty.’

      ‘Well, it’s not.’ The big guy ground the words out, his ice-blue eyes blazing with temper. ‘Stay with Jessie, Emmy,’ he said as he pushed the little girl behind him.

      Monroe spotted Miss Firecracker take hold of the child’s hand. The redhead was still glaring at him—and starting to look very self-satisfied.

      The guy pushed the sleeves of his polo shirt up forearms that were ridged with muscle. ‘I’m going to teach this idiot a lesson.’

      A sick feeling in his gut, Monroe realised he’d have to take the punch. He closed his eyes, braced for the pain.

      Then the pregnant lady shouted, ‘Stop, Linc, stop!’

      When nothing happened, Monroe risked opening one eye. The woman had a hold of the man’s arm but she was staring right at him. ‘Who are you?’ she asked softly.

      ‘Nobody, ma’am. All I took was a swim.’ If only he could just deck the guy and get out of here.

      ‘You’re Monroe.’ She said the words so quietly, Monroe wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.

      ‘What the hell is going on?’ Mr Furious shouted back, still busting to take a swing at him.

      ‘Linc, he’s your brother. Can’t you see the resemblance?’

      Oh, СКАЧАТЬ