Playing His Dangerous Game (9 page)

‘I’m happy to donate a free security assessment of someone’s home and make recommendations on what they need to do to resolve any deficiencies,’ Royce said. ‘I’m also happy to contact a few of my business associates to see if they’ll donate something.’

‘Excellent, excellent,’ Noreen said. ‘Anyone else?’

‘You didn’t have to do that,’ Shara whispered to Royce as several other people pitched in with suggestions.

He shrugged. ‘I’m happy to do it. As I said yesterday, I’m more than willing to support a good cause.’

‘Still, it was nice of you to do it.’

And she didn’t want him to be nice, because that just made him even more attractive.

R
OYCE
leaned back in his chair and watched as Shara addressed the meeting.

She was formally dressed, in a classic white suit and a black silk blouse, with subtly applied make-up, a French braid, and simple gold jewellery.

She looked elegant and businesslike—and so beautiful that she took his breath away.

Still, he much preferred her the way she was just after one of their karate lessons. A little dishevelled, with strands of hair escaping her ponytail, her eyes sparkling like a gazillion sapphires.

With difficulty he forced his attention back to what she was saying. She was currently outlining the programme for the actual event itself.

She was talking about serving times and collection times and break times. When the music would start and when it would finish. At what time the auction would begin and what time it would end.

It was clear she’d put a lot of time and effort into the event. It was also clear she’d done this before. She knew exactly what she was doing—expertly fielding questions as they arose, clarifying the finer details when required.

Royce found himself as captivated by this side of Shara as he was by the woman he’d already come to know.

When the meeting had been concluded they made their way to the lift.

‘I hope you didn’t mind me getting involved in the meeting?’ Royce asked, pressing the ‘down’ button.

‘Why would I mind?’

He shrugged. ‘A bodyguard should be seen and not heard. Even then he should only be seen when he needs to be. It’s my job to blend into the background.’

Shara laughed out loud. She couldn’t help herself. ‘I don’t think it’s possible for
you
to blend into the background.’

‘Too much of a mountain?’

Too much of everything!

Good-looks. Sex appeal. Charisma.

For a second Shara was afraid she’d made the comment out loud. The answer had flashed into her head so quickly her brain hadn’t had the chance to edit it.

But Royce was looking at her so normally she couldn’t have.

‘I’m sorry about the comment Noreen made,’ Shara offered, the incident still rankling.

Royce shrugged. ‘It’s water off a duck’s back. I’ve been called worse things in my time, and no doubt I’ll be called a good many more.’

‘Still, she shouldn’t have said it.’

‘Forget it. I have.’

‘OK.’

At that moment the lift arrived with a soft
ping
. The doors slid open. Royce held an arm across the opening to prevent the doors from closing and then waved her inside.

Shara walked past him.

Her arm brushed against his.

A shot of electricity flashed up her arm.

Her eyes flew to his.

What she saw in his eyes made her heart stop.

Royce followed Shara into the lift.

The air was locked tight in his lungs. His heart was doing the exact opposite, loosening up the floodgates and sending his blood rushing from one end of his body to the other with supersonic speed.

Instinct had always served him well. Several times it had even saved his life.

This time it abandoned him. Dumped him smack-bang in the middle of a place he shouldn’t be.

Because, without thinking, Royce bent his head and claimed her mouth with his. He kissed her as if he’d been waiting years to kiss her instead of days.

As his mouth plundered hers Royce admitted what he hadn’t wanted to admit until now: he’d wanted her from the first moment he’d seen her, swaying so sensually on the dance floor.

And the crazy thing was that Shara was kissing him back the same way. With not a second’s hesitation and enough hunger to set his pulse flying.

Royce fed a hand into her hair. He held her head steady as his mouth continued to move over hers.

Her hands clutched at his chest, grabbing a fistful of his shirt.

Even that small amount of contact was enough to make his senses go haywire. Desire was zinging off the inside of his skin and sending a shudder through his tall frame.

It was an amazing feeling.

The rush grabbed him.

Held on.

Wouldn’t let him go.

Wherever the rush was going, he was on board for the ride.

Shara went up in flames the minute Royce’s mouth claimed hers.

There was no other way to describe it.

She could feel the heat.

Feel it scorching through her, stripping her of everything but the truth.

She wanted Royce.

There. She’d admitted it.

The stomach-curling sensation and the electrical charge that literally zapped through her body every time they touched was good old-fashioned sexual desire.

Lust.

It pounded through her.

Minced her resistance into a pile of mush.

Flattened her common senses into non-existence.

Thought vanished.

All that was left was sensation.

A wild uproar of sensation that lifted her to her toes and made her cling to him as if she never wanted to let him go.

It didn’t matter that what they were doing was wrong.

The part of her consciousness that recognised that fact had gone into hiding.

The
ping
of the lift sounded again. Awareness of where she was, who she was with and what she was doing came flooding back.

She sprang backwards, almost falling over her own feet in the process.

The world rushed back at her so fast that she felt dizzy. For those few extraordinary moments it was as if all of her focus had converged on Royce.

His mouth.

His arms.

The feel of his body against her.

Now she slowly turned her head.

Two men were standing in the opening of the lift, grinning at them.

Mortified, she dropped her chin towards her chest.

She was aware of Royce turning, and then he said with a hint of humour, ‘What floor?’

Shara cringed inside.

What was wrong with her? Wasn’t her life complicated enough without getting involved with someone else?

Royce glanced at Shara as the doors slid shut behind the two guys, who had got off on the fourth floor.

She was standing as still as a statue, her body visibly tense. Her hands were clenched at her sides so hard that the knuckles had turned white.

So far she hadn’t said a single word to him.

Royce wasn’t even sure that she’d looked at him.

As if she sensed his eyes on her, she turned on him, her eyes spitting blue chips of ice. ‘What on earth did you do that for?’

It was a good question.

A
very
good question.

Because the honest-to-God truth was that he
hadn’t
been thinking.

When her arm had brushed against his all rational thought had flown straight out of the window. Instinct had made him reach for her.

Instinct … and desire.

Oh, yes. He couldn’t forget that.

The desire had risen up inside him, grabbed him in its tenacious grip and simply refused to let him go.

‘Well? Answer me!’ Shara ordered, reverting to the imperious, hoity-toity tone of voice she hadn’t used for some time. ‘Do you always try to kiss your clients?’

She had a knack for going straight for the jugular.

‘No, I don’t,’ Royce replied calmly, watching her with dark narrowed eyes. ‘In fact, I make it a rule not to mix business with pleasure.’

‘Really?’ She tossed her head and flung her hand in the air. ‘Then what was that … that
fiasco
all about?’

She’d done it again.

Put him right on the spot with another pointed question.

A question that he had no answer to.

His gut shrank to the size of a pea.

A
fiasco
…?

She thought their kiss was a
fiasco
?

Hardly.

He could think of any number of descriptions to describe the conflagration that had taken hold of them, but a fiasco would not be one of them.

‘You enjoyed it as much as I did,’ he accused.

Royce wasn’t sure exactly where those words had come from. He certainly hadn’t intended saying them.

What he
should
be saying was that their kiss had been a mistake and one that wouldn’t be repeated.

But Royce always told it the way it was. Even if the truth was unpalatable, it still needed to be said.

Shara blinked her big blue eyes at him, her expression suddenly guarded. ‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Yes, you did.’

She blinked again. Her mouth trembled. ‘You’re imagining things.’

Royce shook his head.

This was the first time he could remember Shara trying to dissemble—and she wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

Desire was surging up inside him again. The rush of it made his head spin.

Instinct took over a second time.

He did two things simultaneously.

He took a step towards her and he slapped a hand against the emergency stop button.

The lift came to a jerking, juddering halt.

Shara took a stumbling step backwards. ‘What … what do you think you’re doing?’

Those blunt questions just kept right on coming—as if they were bullets fired from a gun.

What
was
he doing?

Royce wasn’t sure, but he knew he was going to keep right on doing it.

‘Proving a point,’ he murmured, and he backed her into the corner of the lift.

‘What … what point?’

‘That you enjoyed our kiss as much as I did.’

‘I— You—’ She snapped her mouth closed.

‘Admit it, and I won’t kiss you again,’ he whispered.

Her gaze collided with his. A strangled and indecipherable sound emerged from the back of her throat.

She couldn’t do it.

She couldn’t look him in the eye and lie.

It just wasn’t in her nature.

Triumph raced through his system, arousing everything in its path.

Shara didn’t know what to think—or feel.

The glitter in Royce’s chocolate-brown eyes was a clear message.

He wanted her.

The thought sent excitement racing up and down her spine.

So too did the sheer male smell of him.

His eyes were on her mouth.

Every nerve-ending tingled in anticipation. Each muscle was straining—not away from him, but
towards
him.

Somehow their bodies must have recognised the deepening sexual tension in the confined space. Without either of them seeming to move the gap between them was demolished. Her soft curves were plastered against the hardness of his.

Their mouths came together with a sizzle, lips moving
hungrily as they matched kiss for aching kiss. Royce hauled her to the tips of her toes as his lips prised hers open. His tongue darted into the warm depths of her mouth.

Shara felt her legs buckle beneath her. If it weren’t for the arms supporting her she would have fallen.

Shara pressed herself against him. The action squashed her aching breasts against the hardness of his chest. Winding her arms around his neck, she buried her fingers in the thick crispness of his hair, moaning as she felt his tongue delve into her mouth again.

Suddenly Royce lifted his head.

Shara wanted to drag his mouth back to hers, but she heard what Royce had obviously heard because his head was cocked to one side.

‘Are you OK in there?’ a male voice called.

Were
they OK?

Shara couldn’t answer for Royce, but for her part she was very far from being OK.

Her breathing was rushed and shallow, her breasts heavy, and there was a moist dampness at the juncture of her thighs that signalled just how far-reaching an effect he’d had on her.

Royce, who had been staring upwards, dropped his gaze to hers.

His face was expressionless.

He dropped his arms to his sides and stepped away from her.

Then he called out. ‘We’re fine. I accidentally pressed the emergency stop button.’

‘OK. We’ll have you out shortly.’

‘Well, it can’t be too soon for me,’ Shara muttered. ‘I can’t wait to get out of here.’

She needed fresh air.

And distance.

Lots and lots of distance between her and Royce.

She also needed a brain transplant.

Or maybe a libido transplant.

She wasn’t quite sure which.

All she knew was that as soon as his mouth had claimed hers her resolve not to respond had disappeared in a puff of smoke.

The lift jerked and then began moving. More slowly than it usually did. At a snail’s pace.

Shara moved to stand in front of the doors.

Royce grabbed her arm and spun her to face him.

‘Let me go.’ Her voice sliced at him, and she yanked away her arm, which tingled where he’d touched.

Royce did as she asked. ‘Before we leave this lift I want one thing clear,’ he said, in a deep, firm voice.

Shara didn’t respond. Knowing Royce, he’d say what was on his mind whether she prompted him or not.

‘This ends right here.’

‘This …?’

‘This attraction between us. There will be no more kissing.’

Whatever she’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed by his response. Her ambivalence annoyed her.

Even that was an understatement.

She was angry.

At herself—and Royce.

She tossed her head, jutted her chin, and slammed her hands down on her hips. ‘You bet it won’t. I don’t know what you were thinking and I don’t care. After what Steve has put me through the last thing I need is the hired help coming on to me. Got it?’

Royce froze.

He was angry.

More angry than he had a right to be.

Not just at Shara for her comment about him being the hired help—although he was disappointed by the remark.

He was angry at himself.

For creating this situation.

And he
had
created it.

He was the one who had grabbed Shara.

He was the one who had kissed her.

He was normally very much in control.

But he was beginning to sense—with the sensitivity of a jackhammer against concrete!—that his reactions to Shara were far from usual.

Kissing her had been the start of the lunacy.