One Wild Night with Her Enemy Read online

  She stifled the foolish sting of disappointment and whispered, ‘I’ve never done anything like this before.’

  ‘Like what?’ he asked.

  Had a one-night hook-up... Or any hook-up at all, for that matter.

  The answer seemed too compromising—and embarrassing. Would he change his mind if he knew she had no experience?

  ‘I’ve never done something so spontaneous,’ she said, settling for a less revealing answer which was no less true.

  He chuckled, that low, husky laugh she had begun to adore.

  ‘Then you’re way overdue, cher.’

  He lifted her hand to his mouth, spread open her fingers and bit gently into the swell of flesh beneath her thumb. The sharp nip sent sensation tearing through the last of her self-control.

  Her fingertips skimmed the rough stubble on his jaw as his gaze locked on hers, dark with desire.

  ‘If we do it right,’ he said, ‘the only consequence will be bon temps. Good times. I swear.’ His gaze remained locked on hers. ‘And I know we’re gonna do it right.’

  Before she could give herself too long to think—to plan or regret or become that dull rule-follower again—she nodded. ‘I’d love to go with you.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, and excitement dropped like a stealth bomb into her heart.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘I’VE NEVER BEEN in a seaplane before!’ Cassie shouted into the microphone attached to her helmet above the rumble of the plane’s engines as the floats skipped over the water and the aircraft gathered speed. ‘Does that mean you owe me another first?’

  Luke sent her a smile. ‘Nope—because I’ve never had a woman in this plane before either.’

  She wasn’t sure she believed him, but still her heartrate bumped in her chest as the plane rose from the water.

  She gasped, and awe pressed against her ribs as the aircraft lifted over the Golden Gate Bridge. The plane tipped to the right, giving her a panoramic view of Oakland and San Francisco sprawled across the hillside, and she squinted to pick out the places he’d already taken her tonight.

  Her heart catapulted into her throat for about the tenth time that evening. But it wasn’t the amazing views as they headed out onto the open water, leaving the city lights scattered like stars behind them, that was taking her breath away.

  The plane’s wing lights lit Luke’s frown of concentration as he handled the controls with practised efficiency.

  Ashling would die of shock if she could see me now.

  She choked off a slightly hysterical laugh. Luke turned, pinning her again with that intense green gaze and making her insides purr along with the plane.

  ‘All good?’ he asked.

  ‘Wonderful,’ she said.

  Why had she never done anything like this before?

  ‘The coastline is breathtaking in daylight,’ he said. ‘Green and rugged and untamed.’

  ‘It looks amazing at night, too,’ she said, as captivated by the man beside her as she was by the breathtaking view. ‘How long does it take to get to your home?’ she asked, not wanting the ride to end, but at the same time eager to kiss him again and feel his hard body against hers.

  If a person was going to lose her mind for a night, she couldn’t imagine a more rewarding way to do it. This was so much better than trying a contraband cigarette at boarding school, or handing in an essay three hours late, or getting your flatmate to deliver your boss’s tuxedo and then discovering the fallout far too late to do anything about it.

  Cassie sighed, remembering the tsunami of text messages she’d found on her phone when she’d turned it on at the airport. Tons from Gwen, from her sickbed, because she’d obviously been harassed by Temple when his tuxedo had failed to show—and one from Temple.

  The tux has finally landed. Don’t get your flatmate to run errands for me in future.

  Ashling going AWOL on her was nothing new, but by the time Cassie had found out about the problem it had been two in the morning in the UK and there had been no point in ringing Temple to apologise profusely, or calling Ashling to give her hell for screwing up such a simple task.

  So Cassie had sent Ash a text from the wedding—which her friend would get in the morning—and then switched off her phone.

  Thank goodness Temple wasn’t the sort to hold a grudge. But it was funny to think that ever since Luke had approached her she’d completely forgotten about Ashling’s latest ditzkrieg.

  ‘It’ll take about an hour to get to Sunrise Island,’ he barked out over the headphones.

  ‘I... I can’t wait to see it. Is there a reason why you decided to settle there?’ she asked, making desperate small talk again, trying to ignore the sudden drop in her stomach.

  Am I actually doing this? Travelling to a private island for a one-night stand?

  The hum of the engine cut through the silence. She turned to look at him, wondering at the sudden pause in the conversation, only to realise he had the same frown on his face he’d had back in the park, when he’d told her about his island home.

  ‘I like my privacy,’ he said at last.

  The rest of the journey went by in a haze of stunning night-time views as the coastline meandered north. The lights marking their way in the darkness turned from clusters into sprinkles as they journeyed into Oregon. But as Cassie stared at the coastline the buoyant sensation which had been driving her decisions all evening turned into a leaden lump in the pit of her stomach...

  ‘I like my privacy.’

  What was she actually doing? Taking him up on the offer of a one-night stand when the reason she was in San Francisco, the reason why she’d been at the wedding of his friends in the first place, wasn’t as it appeared to him?

  Should she tell him about Temple’s interest in investing in Broussard Tech? Wouldn’t it be hopelessly unprofessional to bring up work now?

  Yeah, Cassie, almost as unprofessional as climbing aboard his bike, kissing him senseless and agreeing to spend the night with him on his private island?

  She blinked into the darkness, her newfound adventurous streak tempered by a cold, harsh dose of reality. And the spontaneous choice she had made at the marina didn’t seem quite so simple any more.

  * * *

  After landing Jezebel on the sheltered east side of Sunrise Island, Luke drove the plane into the small secluded cove below the house. The right float bumped against the dock as a sprinkle of rain hit the fuselage.

  ‘A storm’s brewing.’ He glanced at his passenger, who had been silent for the last half-hour of their journey. She hadn’t been the only one.

  Why the heck had he invited her to Sunrise? It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision driven by an organ other than his brain—and by the transparent wonder on her face when he’d shown her the city view from his favourite spot in Buena Vista Park.

  Something about her unguarded, refreshingly artless reaction had made him want to show her more. And the next thing he knew he’d been heading across the bay towards Sausalito.

  He had a penthouse condo in San Francisco less than a mile from the Botanical Gardens. A nice place—sleek and modern and expertly furnished at an eye-watering cost by an award-winning design team in one of the city’s snootiest neighbourhoods. It was the place he always took the women he dated.

  But once they’d got across the bridge the feel of her wrapped around him like superglue had driven him a little nuts, and he’d found himself taking the road to the marina where he had his plane docked.

  Now her small white teeth worried at her bottom lip and the heat landed back in his lap.

  Not much point trying to figure out the dumb decision to bring her to Sunrise now. With a storm brewing they were stuck here for the night, so they might as well make the most of it.

  ‘We should probably get inside before the storm hits,’ he said, unclipping his belt. ‘The weather in
this region can get nasty fast,’ he added, unfastening her belt too, because she’d made no move to do it herself.

  He turned to open the door to the aircraft and she grasped his forearm.

  ‘Wait, Luke. I need to tell you something,’ she said, and the glare from the plane’s interior lights illuminated the shadows in her eyes before her gaze darted away. ‘Something I should have made clear to you before I agreed to come here...’

  She looked more than worried now. She looked guilty and freaked out.

  The heat twisted and burned in his gut. But a kick of disgust at himself wasn’t far behind, reminding him of a man he had always despised.

  ‘Hey, Cassandra,’ he said, touching her chin and lifting her head so their gazes connected. ‘There’s no pressure here.’ His gaze dipped to take in the hint of cleavage revealed by his open jacket as he reminded himself what tonight was really all about. ‘I’m not gonna lie...’ He took a deep breath, deciding to give it to her straight. ‘I want to explore every inch of you tonight, and make you moan and sigh and gasp a lot more...’ His lips quirked as hot colour flooded into her face. ‘And make you blush so hard your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.’

  ‘Actually, they already are,’ she murmured.

  The wry rejoinder surprised a laugh out of him in the middle of his big speech. He touched his thumb to her burning cheek and grinned, happy to be back on solid ground. Their chemistry was real and immense—this invitation wasn’t about anything more than that.

  ‘Yeah, I can tell,’ he said. ‘But here’s the thing,’ he added. ‘You don’t owe me anything. There’s five bedrooms in my home and no expectation that the one you sleep in tonight has to be mine. You got that?’

  He forced himself to drop his hand. If she was having second thoughts he wasn’t going to pressure her either way—because that would make this more than it was.

  ‘I...’ She blinked, looking taken aback. ‘That’s very gallant of you,’ she said.

  Gallant? What the...?

  He choked out a laugh, relieving some of the tension snapping in his gut.

  ‘What’s so funny,’ she asked, her clear-eyed pragmatism something he was becoming addicted to.

  ‘That’s another first for me,’ he said. ‘No woman’s ever called me gallant before, either. Now you owe me a first.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asked, looking genuinely surprised. ‘I suspect a lot of less gallant men would have expectations after flying a woman several hundred miles for a hook-up.’

  Another laugh escaped on a spontaneous bark of amusement, but beneath it was a strange feeling of uneasiness. ‘Yeah, I’m one hundred and one per cent positive no woman’s ever even thought of me as gallant before,’ he said.

  ‘Then they were fools,’ she said, outraged on his behalf.

  ‘But you still owe me,’ he said, to keep things light as the weird clutching sensation he’d felt earlier—when she’d been so impressed with his hundred-buck gratuity, and again when she’d looked at him as if he’d given her something precious in Buena Vista Park—returned.

  He wasn’t gallant—not even close. And he didn’t want to be. He took her hand in his and lifted her fingers to his lips. Time to get the night back on track. If she wanted gallant, he knew how to fake it.

  ‘So, are we good to go?’ he asked, lifting his eyebrows in a deliberately lascivious way that had her choking out another of those musical giggles.

  ‘I don’t think that was ever in doubt,’ she said, but then the blush seemed to intensify again. ‘But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s to do with my work for Zachary Temple and Temple Corp.’ She tugged her fingers from his, stumbling over the words. ‘I’m here to—’ He touched his finger to her lips to cut her off.

  ‘Shh...’ he said. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he added.

  He’d heard of the British billionaire businessman’s reputation as a smart investor. Once upon a time Luke would have had to go cap in hand to a guy like him. But not any more. Not since he’d taken his company global and pushed his income and his industry cachet into the stratosphere. Thank the lord.

  Perhaps she figured he was planning to prise information out of her about her boss? Or pitch for investment.

  He should be insulted. He didn’t need investment, or to impress men like Temple any more. And he sure as heck didn’t need to mix business with booty calls. Broussard Tech had taken the tech industry by storm because it produced quality, innovative, unique products. Not because he used sex to further his business interests.

  But, strangely, he wasn’t insulted—he suspected her hesitancy wasn’t because she was judging him, but because she was judging herself. He’d never met a woman before who was such a knockout but seemed so unaware of it.

  He guessed it was one of the things he found so refreshing about her. But he did not want her nerves getting in the way of their booty call. Especially with the rain lashing against the fuselage as the storm arrived in earnest.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she said. ‘I don’t want to sleep with you under false pretences.’

  Oh, for the love of...

  ‘Cassandra,’ he said, trying to sound firm, when the words ‘sleep with you’ in that prim UK accent had made the heat pounding in his pants hit critical mass. ‘There’s gonna be nothing false about tonight. As far as I’m concerned we left our professional interests back in San Francisco. Anything that happens tonight is between us and only us. You got that?’

  She tugged at her lip again with her teeth, torturing him for one more excruciating moment, but then she nodded. ‘Okay...if you’re sure.’

  ‘I’m sure.’ He grasped her hand and tugged her across the console. ‘Now, let’s get up to the house before we drown.’

  * * *

  Cassie raced up the slick stone steps cut into the cliff-face behind Luke.

  She was soaked through in seconds, but it was a warm, revitalising rain, washing away the guilt and the hesitation and leaving behind a freshness, a newness, and a woman committed to making tonight a memory to savour.

  The relief was immense—but not nearly as immense as the tidal wave of excitement which swept over her as Luke’s house appeared out of the mist and rain, lit by the same solar-powered flares illuminating the steps up from the dock.

  The Pacific Ocean churned below them as the wind picked up its pace and the storm arrived in all its glory. The sleek modern structure of glass and steel, redwood and granite, rose out of the rock face in stacked terraces, blending into the surrounding landscape of dense forest and millennia-old volcanic rock.

  Oh... My.

  She imagined the structure would be glorious in the daylight, when the waves crashed against the rocks, framing its magnificent view over the ocean, but at night it looked dramatic and daring.

  Her heartbeat bumped into her throat, and her breathing turned into staggered pants as they reached an arched doorway. Sheltering her with his body, Luke tapped out a code on a security panel. The rain dripped off his brow and soaked into his shirt to reveal the shadow of chest hair and the bulge of muscle and sinew beneath.

  The steel entrance door slid open. He dragged her in behind him and flicked a switch. A series of low lights revealed the cathedral-like drama of the living area—two storeys high and fronted by a wall of glass—at the end of the short redwood entrance hall. Cassie glimpsed sunken sofas surrounding a granite firepit, a state-of-the-art kitchen area and an open staircase leading up to a mezzanine.

  Luke Broussard’s home made a statement, like the man himself. Both were unique and bold and breathtaking.

  The entrance door slid closed, shutting out the roar of the storm, and all she could focus on was the distant rattle of water cascading down glass and the staggered sound of her own breathing. And his.

  Luke tugged her round to face him. Her gaze became fixated on the magnificent contours of his
torso revealed by the translucent shirt.

  ‘You good?’ he asked, as his thumb wiped the water from her lips.

  ‘Yes.’ The vicious shudder which racked her body had nothing to do with the clammy feel of her soaked clothing, and everything to do with the fire his touch ignited. ‘You have an incredible home,’ she added, dislodging his hand, desperate to fill the charged silence.

  ‘Glad you approve,’ he said, his wry tone turning the shudder of need into something absolutely terrifying.

  What on earth was she doing here? She didn’t know the first thing about having epic sex. Or even about having one-night stands. She’d never even made love with anyone before, and certainly not with a man as overwhelming as this man.

  Had she set herself up to fail? Spectacularly?

  What if she disappointed him? What if she disappointed herself?

  Seriously, Cassie, what the heck were you thinking? You’re not a free spirit. Or a sexual adventurer. You’re a boring workaholic who doesn’t know the first thing about satisfying herself, let alone satisfying a man like Luke Broussard.

  ‘Hey.’ Grasping her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he brought her gaze back to his. ‘I can see you overthinking again.’

  A laugh escaped. ‘It’s what I do best,’ she said.

  His hand slid down to capture her neck. He nudged her back against the wooden wall of the entrance hall. She could smell him, heat and arousal and pine soap, above the scent of wood resin and fresh rain. Her hands settled on his waist, absorbing the tension in his abs and sending a shock of longing straight to her sex.

  His mouth lowered to hers. She stared at his face, the yearning as intense as the fear now.

  ‘Close your eyes, Cassandra,’ he demanded, and she obeyed.

  Then his lips were on hers at last. She let out a small sob, welcoming him in instinctively. He cupped her cheeks and angled her head so he could delve deeper.

  And as he devoured her, every thought, every feeling blasted out of her head bar one.