Chapter 6 Kate
Kate
It turned out to be an idyllic day and, despite reciting every reason in the book she should have gotten her ass out of there, she’d stayed.
Twice more Richard’s phone rang, but she gave him credit—he checked who called and let both go to voicemail.
The only messages he returned were texts from the grand duke.
His best friend—can’t really fault him for that one.
He’d been damn attractive when he’d walked into the kitchen, damp hair disheveled and bare chest revealing a raw, primal physique.
In his dress slacks, he’d been a study in contrasts—and very, very male.
Ten laps in the pool didn’t do a damn thing for easing the far from professional interest her body was developing and when he traced his finger down her shoulder blade, every nerve ending in her body had fired.
Some lines weren’t meant to be crossed and she’d sliced right through them, telling him about her brothers and a half-forgotten, but thoroughly thrilling, childhood memory.
Leaning her hands against the counter in the bathroom she’d borrowed to take a shower and clean up from their afternoon of leisure in the sun, Kate eyed her reflection.
It had taken a lot to distance herself, but she needed to maintain those lines. Her job was to protect him—not to explore the hard, very able body she’d discovered under his ten-thousand-dollar suits. Unfortunately, her hormones remained in violent disagreement with her ethics.
A light knock at the door sent a shiver of anticipation up her spine. She wore a towel and nothing else. The only thing between her and Richard was couple of inches of door. How easy would it be to open the barrier and make this a truly unforgettable day off…
Seriously, get a grip. She cleared her throat. “Yes?”
“Sorry, Armand called. He’s invited us to dinner at the tower with him and Anna and won’t take no for an answer.”
“Us?” She frowned. The grand duke knew damn good and well what her job was.
Maybe that was why he’d included her in the invitation, but it didn’t make her presence any more appropriate.
Bad enough Richard had caught her in that bar the night before with the grand duke.
So far, he hadn’t asked her why she’d been in the complete opposite direction of where she’d dropped off the court papers or what she and the grand duke had been discussing.
A rasp of fabric against the wall told her Richard leaned next to the door. “Yes, us. Armand said he enjoyed chatting with you last night and that I should bring you along.”
“I don’t really have anything to wear.” She’d planned to put her sleep-rumpled clothes back on and head home.
Unfortunately, Richard wasn’t dissuaded. “Check the closet, I’m sure you can find something in your size in there.”
She’d never have credited the grand duke for being cruel. Including her in a social event in the tower—one of the most highly secured locations in Los Angeles—didn’t sit well with her. Unless… Pulling the door open, she gave Richard an assessing look. “You’re about to lose your wager, aren’t you?”
He straightened immediately, but his attention dropped to her towel. “I am?”
Refusing to be sidetracked because she’d forgotten about the towel, she fisted the ends together above her breasts. “Eyes up.”
Obediently, he snapped his gaze to hers. “Sorry, your towel distracted me.”
“They’re bad like that,” she replied drily. “He invited us because this isn’t just a social visit.”
“Probably not, no.” He nodded and his gaze drifted lower again. He’d showered and changed. Dressed in a navy blue T-shirt that did nothing to disguise the cut of the muscles beneath and jeans, he looked more dangerous and delicious than he did in a suit.
“I said eyes up.” She could have closed the door. A part of her mind acknowledged that fact, and that she could have tabled the discussion for when she was dressed, but a rebellious streak stiffened her resolve.
“I’m trying.” He grinned. “I promise.”
“Hmm, so—since you lost the wager, what do I get?” The corner of her mouth twitched with pure feminine thrill at how aware of her he behaved.
“Not much, I’m afraid.” His grin turned wicked in its delight. “We never did negotiate the terms.”
“Verbal agreements are still binding.” Her competitive spirit surged, refusing to be disappointed.
“True.” He tapped a finger to his lips. “And we did agree we should wager.” Leaning forward, one hand braced against the doorframe, he met her gaze evenly. “What do you want?”
The earthy, clean scent of him wrapped around her and she looked at his mouth, then back up again.
Interest gleamed in his eyes and the pupils dilated with the promise of arousal.
Oh, this is bad, Kate. Throttle it back, throttle it back.
Withdrawing a step before she gave into temptation, she pasted on a smile. “I’ll let you know.”
Closing the door took every ounce of her self-control. She leaned back against the cool wood. For a long second, she’d imagined asking him for a kiss or just saying to hell with it and kissing him herself.
How was she supposed to protect him if she was fantasizing about getting him naked?
“Kate?” Dammit, even the way he said her name sent another shiver to race over her skin and her nipples tightened into nearly painful points beneath the towel.
Professional, soldier. Keep it professional. “Yes, Richard?” Although husky, she managed to keep her tone level.
“Open the door.”
Closing her eyes, Kate shook her head. “I’ll be out in a moment. I need to get dressed.”
A soft sound, a faint scrape, as though he ran his finger across the wood separating them. It teased her senses—imagining it was her skin he traced, as he had the scar on her shoulder. “I promised myself I would behave,” he murmured and she had to strain to hear him. “You work for me.”
“I know.” God help me, do I know.
“But I’m thinking that you might be interested too. No harm, no foul, Kate. If you want to open the door, that’s between you and me. Not the office, not the job.”
Dammit. She wanted to open the damn door. But they had a lot more standing between them than the office or the job. With regret she knew would sting, she turned to flatten her palm against the wood. “I’ll be down after I change.”
The protracted silence that met her statement wrenched at her heart.
She almost opened the door to make sure he was all right.
But, then, he tapped the wood once. “Okay.” The word rode a long breath, but no matter how light he made his tone, she couldn’t forget the seductive rasp of his invitation.
“I’ll be waiting. On the up side, we got most of the day off. ”
“Yeah.” She tried to inject some enthusiasm in her tone to disguise her struggle. “And I had fun.”
“Me too, Kate. Me too.” The hint of a step and he walked away.
Kate stayed at the door, waiting until the last of his steps faded away before she made herself move.
Personal investment in a protectee was permissible to a point.
She couldn’t protect someone and not care about them, because their safety was what they paid her to care about.
But she cared a hell of a lot more for Richard than professional interest allowed. She’d talk to the grand duke and— No, he was also Richard’s best friend and between the two of them, they’d already lied to Richard enough. She’d talk to Peterson. He would understand the need for a replacement.
It was the right decision—the rational, calm and professional one.
So why did her stomach knot up at the idea?
By the time she’d dried her hair and come out into the borrowed bedroom, the door to the hallway was closed and she was alone.
Opening the closet, she stared at the wide variety of clothes filling the space.
Everything from casual to semi-formal, in different colors and—she shifted through the different hangers—different sizes.
Most were women’s clothing, but some were for children. The man had a huge house and a sister, but she didn’t think he had any nieces or nephews. So why all the clothes? Did he have lovers over so frequently in need of a change in clothing?
None of your business, Kate. A snarky inner voice chastised her.
Hell, many of the clothes still had the tags on them.
Maybe he kept them for his sister or maybe he had a new lover every week, it didn’t matter.
They were clothes. She needed to pick something and put it on.
At least the presence of the price tags meant she wasn’t putting on some other woman’s clothes.
Remembering his outfit, she chose a pair of jeans—they were just long enough to fit her legs. Forgoing a T-shirt, she chose a sleeveless button down blouse and found a blazer in the back.
She might be able to get away with moderately casual, but she still needed business dress and—frankly—the less skin she showed around Richard might be for the better.
When she walked down the stairs, her disheveled clothing over her arm, she found Richard waiting. He wore a blazer similar to the one she’d picked out, his hands tucked into his pockets. “You found something that fits. Great.” And no comment about his offer on the other side of the bathroom door.
Relieved, and a little disappointed, she took her cue from him. “I had a great selection to choose from.”
“That’s the idea.” He nodded. “You ready to go?”
“Absolutely.” Fortunately, she’d worn low-heeled pumps with her suit the day before and they worked fine with this outfit.
She could run in them—something she did periodically just to say trained in the event that she’d need to.
“Do you want me to drive? I can take you back by the office afterward, pick up your car.” Security would have kept their eye on the vehicle that he’d left parked in the garage of the building housing his law office.