The Complete Red-Hot Collection. Kelly Hunter

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СКАЧАТЬ she drew back, the thrumming stillness of his body a sign that he’d liked her greeting a lot.

      He liked her lips—she remembered that.

      Gave thanks for that.

      They got in the elevator and she pressed the button for the top floor. He didn’t crowd her. He just watched.

      ‘Come on in,’ she murmured when finally she opened the door to her apartment, more than a little curious as to what he would make of her home.

      Neutral colours for the walls and a pale wooden floor, richer caramels and ivory colours for the bigger furniture items. No knick-knacks … a couple of family photos. She liked colour, and had added it in the form of cushions and throw rugs, the textures soft and inviting. The views from the windows were of the surrounding cityscape and nothing special. None of it was special.

      This place hadn’t been designed with looking outward in mind. This place was for curling up in, intimate and engulfing. The hotel apartment he’d taken her to had been bigger and better outfitted.

      ‘It isn’t much. One bedroom, a couple of bathrooms, one study and this space. I’ve never—’

      He followed her through to the kitchen and set the food on the counter. ‘Never what?’

      She was for ever revealing her innermost thoughts to him. ‘I don’t entertain here much.’

      ‘It’s your cave,’ he murmured. ‘I get it. And I’m flattered that I got an invitation. No pressure, okay? You want me to leave—just show me the door.’

      ‘I don’t want you to leave.’ And it wasn’t just because the food containers he’d started lining up on the kitchenette bench held so much promise. ‘Is that pork belly with plum sauce on the side, green beans and mashed potatoes from my second favourite restaurant?’

      She might have been guilty of telling him about the dish on the weekend and waxing lyrical.

      ‘It is. When did you last eat?’

      Rowan rubbed at the frown between her eyes. ‘Maybe around eleven?’

      ‘And you started when? Six?’

      She nodded, and he speared her with a penetrating glance.

      ‘Work. Sleep. Eat. Play. Balance, Ro. Haven’t you ever heard of it?’

      ‘Says the man who up until a couple of weeks ago lived his work twenty-four-seven. Undercover.’

      ‘And I have learned my lesson.’

      She dumped a handful of serving spoons on the counter and he picked one up and started dishing food out.

      ‘More potato?’

      ‘Yes. Always yes to that question. How long are you here for?’

      ‘We’ll leave again tomorrow night and take Trig with us for the weekend. You too, if you want?’

      Rowan hesitated. Much as she wanted to, her dance card was already full. ‘Sorry. I’m on call. And I have a date with an octogenarian.’

      ‘Your grandfather?’

      ‘You should meet him. I think you’d like him.’

      Jared stilled, and then carefully, casually, continued serving.

      ‘I saw that hesitation,’ she murmured. ‘Too soon to talk of having you meet my favourite person?’

      ‘No, I— It wasn’t that.’ It was as close to a mumble as he ever got. ‘You said I should meet him and I instantly thought yes. Which gave me pause—because normally there is a pause while I try to figure out how to say no thanks.’

      ‘You probably only want to meet him because he’s a retired general who owns a pet tortoise called Veronica.’

      ‘Veronica, huh?’

      ‘You should probably compliment the General on her superbly patterned shell. He’s very proud of her.’

      ‘I have absolutely no idea whether you’re setting me up or not.’ His smile warmed her. ‘But I like it. Where are we eating? Bench or table?’

      ‘Table.’

      He really was deliciously easy to accommodate. They sat and ate, and Rowan tried not to bolt her food, but it was so good, and— Oh.

      ‘What would you like to drink?’ So much for her skills as a hostess.

      ‘Relax. I’ll get it.’

      He came back with soda water for both of them and she looked at the drinks and grimaced in embarrassment. Soda water, still water or milk had been his only choices.

      ‘I really wasn’t expecting you tonight. If I had I would have magically arranged for my fridge to be fuller.’

      He smiled, slow and contented. ‘I really don’t care if your fridge is full or not.’

      So there was that, and his apparent ease with her living arrangements, and a slow-building heat that made her wonder whether it would be appropriate to push her meal aside, crawl across the table and feast on him.

      Instead, she chose small talk. ‘What have you been up to?’

      ‘Racing speedboats and thinking about my future. Last time I decided on a career path I didn’t think of anything beyond superficialities.’

      ‘All the pretty toys?’ she murmured.

      ‘Exactly.’ He speared a pork square and offered it to her—and who was she to refuse? ‘These days I’m older, wiser and more searching. I want to feel useful. Money isn’t a necessity. I thrive on adrenalin and I’m narrowing down options.’

      ‘What kind of options?’

      ‘Banking. The family business. It’d make my father happy and the stock exchange pit might suit me.’

      She studied him in silence.

      ‘No comment?’

      ‘Maybe as a short-term career option, sure …’

      His smile turned wry. ‘You think I’d get bored?’

      ‘You said it yourself. You’re not money-focused. You need a cause.’

      ‘I had a cause once. It was corrupt.’

      ‘Not all of it.’

      ‘Enough to give me pause. I don’t want to go to work each day and have to decide who’s going to betray me today and who’s not. I don’t know how you do it. The politics and the conniving. The lack of loyalty.’

      ‘It’s not that bad. The politics and the conniving—I’m good at it. As for the loyalty … Well …’ Maybe she was simply used to rolling with betrayal. ‘I know СКАЧАТЬ