One Wild Night with Her Enemy Page 6

  ‘That would be wonderful, but I really don’t want to put you to too much trouble before we fly back to the city.’

  The casual mention of their trip back surprised him. Truth was, it should have relieved him. If she wasn’t going to make a big deal about last night that was good, right? But it didn’t relieve him. Somehow it just annoyed him more. She’d dropped a bombshell into their casual one-night booty call and now she thought she could just ignore it? Seriously?

  ‘No trouble,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you grab the eggs and milk out of the fridge?’ he added, needing to keep things short and sweet.

  He’d cook her pancakes and then take her back to the city. End of. That was what they’d arranged.

  She returned with the fixings and he set about making the batter.

  ‘Do you need me to do anything?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I’ve got this,’ he said, cracking the eggs into the bowl one-handed and trying not to notice the way his old T-shirt inched up her thighs when she perched on one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

  The sudden blast of heat as he recalled having those long, supple limbs hooked around his waist had him scattering the flour a bit too generously as he added it to the mixture.

  ‘You’re very good at that,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah,’ he murmured, still distracted by the smooth, toned skin as she crossed her legs. ‘I was a short-order cook in a diner the whole of my sophomore year in high school,’ he added, to distract himself from the heat starting to pound again in his pants.

  ‘Was that one of those minimum wage jobs you were talking about yesterday?’ she asked. ‘In the small town near Lafayette?’

  ‘Sure, but this was in Lafayette. Nobody would hire me in my hometown,’ he said, trying not to get fixated on the memory of how sweet she’d tasted when he’d...

  ‘Why not?’ she asked, sounding upset, and the indignant tone interrupted his wayward thoughts.

  ‘Because of my old man’s reputation.’ He picked up the whisk and dragged his gaze away from the danger zone.

  You’re not jumping her again, Broussard, this booty call is over.

  ‘That seems very unfair.’

  ‘Huh?’ he said, having totally lost the thread of their conversation.

  ‘Why should you be blamed for your father’s bad reputation?’

  He stared at her sympathetic expression as the guileless question registered and the slow throb of his pulse became a gallop.

  Hang on a minute? He’d told her that? What the...?

  He never spoke about his father, or that time in his life. Certainly not to a hook-up. Because he’d gone to some pains to cover it up when he’d been starting out. He hadn’t wanted his father’s crimes tarnishing his company the way they had tarnished so much of his childhood and adolescence. But now, as she stared at him, the concern in her gaze had his ribs feeling tight. The way they had during the night, when he’d held her in his arms as they’d both dropped into sleep.

  His galloping pulse charged into his throat.

  Hell, no. They were not going to have this conversation. Talking about his old man was off-limits.

  ‘How about you go find yourself something to wear in the housekeeper’s annexe while I get these done? Mrs Mendoza’s about your size—you can get to it through the mud room.’

  He had to get her out of that thigh-skimming T and into something a lot more substantial before he got so damn distracted he ended up blurting out his whole life story.

  ‘I’m guessing the gold dress is a write-off,’ he added.

  ‘Um...yes—yes, it is.’

  Her eyes widened, and a flush rose up her throat—making him almost feel bad for changing the subject so abruptly. Almost.

  ‘Won’t Mrs Mendoza think it’s a bit odd that I came all this way with no clothes,’ she asked, as the blush hit her cheeks.

  And then he figured out the cause of her embarrassment. This had to be the first time in her life she’d ever done the walk of shame after a booty call.

  His ribs contracted again. Bingo, buddy! Now you feel even more invested. Terrific.

  ‘Mrs Mendoza’s not here,’ he said, his tone gruffer and more impatient than he had intended. ‘I get the staff to vacate when I’m on the island,’ he added. ‘Like I said, I prefer my privacy. Take whatever you need and I’ll make sure she’s reimbursed.’

  ‘Oh, okay...’

  Her gaze flickered away from his face and he felt like a jerk, which didn’t improve his mood at all.

  She slipped off the stool, and her unfettered breasts bounced enticingly under the soft cotton of his old T. A shaft of heat hit him square in the gut. It came with a brutal side order of regret that he wouldn’t be able to feast on those ripe, responsive nipples again.

  ‘I’ll go and see what I can find,’ she said, flicking a thumb over her shoulder. ‘And be back ASAP.’

  ‘Don’t rush on my account,’ he said, going the full jerk and trying not to care. Better she knew this was the end of the road. ‘The batter needs to sit for a while before I start flipping.’

  She’d complicated things with her possible virginity. Made him feel responsible in a way he never had before and blurt out stuff he’d never told anyone. Not to mention deal with the worst case of FOMO known to man as his gaze tracked the sweet, sultry sway of her hips under the butt-skimming T-shirt as she headed for the mud room.

  The journey back to the city in his seaplane, surrounded by her scent and tortured by memories of last night, was going to be an hour-long lesson in sexual frustration.

  He’d just sprinkled some more flour into the egg and milk mixture, trying to concentrate on getting through the next couple of hours without losing what was left of his mind, when he heard a rattling hum and spotted Cassandra’s cell phone, vibrating against the granite countertop. He picked it up, intending to switch it off, but caught sight of the notification that flashed onto the home screen.

  His brows drew down as he read the message from someone identified as ‘Ash’.

  His stomach twisted into a painful knot and suddenly sexual frustration was the least of his worries, as the cruel wave of betrayal washed through him like acid.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘WOULD YOU LIKE a hand with the pancakes?’ Cassie asked, trying to sound calm and casual and totally cool.

  Not easy when she felt anything but.

  Especially after Luke had caught her earlier in nothing but his T-shirt and her knickers. He’d been tense and guarded and off, somehow, and what had been exciting and freeing last night—a sexual adventure to be proud of—now just made her feel exposed... And unbelievably awkward.

  Still, at least she had some clothes on now. Even if they did belong to someone else. She had drawn the line at borrowing his housekeeper’s underwear, but she’d managed to find a pair of jeans and a baggy T-shirt and sweater and some boots and socks.

  She’d left a thank-you note on the housekeeper’s kitchen table in the annexe, with a promise to have the clothes returned once she’d had them cleaned.

  With her hair tied in a knot after she’d taken a quick shower in one of the guest bathrooms, she still felt hopelessly exposed, though. She didn’t have on any of her usual armour. She didn’t even have her make-up with her... Or a bra!

  Gee, thanks, Ash.

  Luke sat on a kitchen stool, his head bent over something. He hadn’t heard her offer to help—probably a good thing, she decided, seeing as she knew next to nothing about making pancakes.

  She took a moment to absorb the sight of him. A sight that still had the power to stagger her.

  Her breathing became ragged. Again.

  She still couldn’t quite believe everything that had happened...or how immense it had seemed. That a man who looked like he did, who oozed heat and passion and sex appeal from every pore, hadn’t just noticed her, but had seduced her so thoroughly, with such power and passion and such dedication to her pleasure as well as his own.

  One thing was certain. However grumpy he might be in the mornings, Luke Broussard came into his own at night.

  A small smile tilted her lips, but then wavered and flattened as she caught her reflection in the window glass and the awkwardness returned.

  Unfortunately, while she looked less than her best, Luke Broussard, even in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants, looked drop-dead gorgeous. The smooth tanned skin on his bare chest and broad shoulders gleamed in the sunshine coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting the tattoo of thorns that ringed his collarbone.

  The thousand and one thoughts that had been bombarding her ever since she’d woken up that morning, to find him fast asleep beside her, her body aching and her mind a mass of confusion, began to batter her all over again.

  Not one of those thoughts, though, was calm or cool or casual.

  All the problems with what she’d done—what they’d done—had only increased her confusion and anxiety in the past twenty minutes, while she’d taken a shower and tried to get a handle on how to deal with the awkwardness of her first ever morning-after...

  She had no doubt last night had been about chemistry and fun for Luke, but she could see now that it had been about more than that for her. And that was without even factoring in the lie she’d told him about her virginity.

  She’d tried to tell herself it wasn’t a big deal. But when he’d treated her so dismissively this morning it had hurt when it really shouldn’t have. Why hadn’t she thought this through? Being stuck on an island with the guy you’d had your first ever sexual encounter with was bound to be awkward. Practicalities-wise, it was a nightmar
e. Not only had she been forced to borrow his housekeeper’s clothes, she couldn’t leave under her own steam. She was completely reliant on him flying her out of here.

  She coughed, trying to clear the swell of anxiety from her throat.

  Luke’s head lifted sharply.

  What she saw on his face had her drawing in a sharp breath. This was more than impatience. Much more. His jaw was rigid with tension as he stared at her, his gaze flat and hard...

  ‘You’re back,’ he said.

  His voice was as harsh and flat as his gaze, the husky purr which had intoxicated her all through the night gone.

  ‘You’ve got some explaining to do.’

  The accusing words came out like brittle staccato punches, confusing her more. Until he lifted the hand he had on the counter and she spotted her smartphone.

  ‘Tell me, did Temple tell you to screw me while you were spying on me? Or was I just lucky?’

  ‘I...? What?’ she choked, shocked by the barely leashed fury in his tone—and the crude accusation. ‘I wasn’t spying on you...’

  ‘Cut the BS. I’ve got evidence.’

  He got off the stool and stalked towards her, the fury on his face becoming thunderous. Snagging her wrist, he slapped her phone into her palm.

  ‘Read it,’ he sneered, the command in his voice low with disdain. ‘Then explain yourself.’

  She clicked on the touch screen to find a notification of Ash’s reply to her earlier text...

  You slept with the fella Temple sent you to spy on??? OMG! The dress was even more deadly than I thought.

  Cassie stiffened. And wanted to die on the spot.

  A thousand and one ways she could defend herself against Luke Broussard’s claims flashed past. She’d never asked him for any information about his business. She’d tried to tell him why she had originally been sent to San Francisco by her boss and he’d shut her down.

  But the fury and disgust on his face and the rigid stance of his body made all the denials freeze on her tongue. Because they reminded her of all the times she had tried to defend herself against the disapproval of another man. Suddenly she was a little girl again, bullied and belittled by her father and always, always found wanting.

  ‘No wonder you were so damn interested in my old man’s reputation,’ he sneered. ‘All part of the background check for your boss.’

  She curled her fingers around the phone and shook her head. ‘I wasn’t asking for Temple. I just... It seemed so unfair. And I—’

  ‘Yeah, right...’ He cut her off again. ‘And to think I thought you were a virgin there for a minute.’

  Cassie recoiled at the bitterness in his accusation. How had he guessed the truth?

  ‘That’s one hell of an act you’ve got going,’ he added.

  She stepped back, away from the fury emanating off him. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her—not physically...that wasn’t the kind of man he was—but she could see he was only holding on to his temper with an effort. And she couldn’t engage with it. Because it would make her feel small and insignificant and defenceless, the way she had felt so many times as a child.

  ‘I didn’t come here to spy on you,’ she said again, her hands shaking now. How ironic that she hadn’t wanted him to know about her inexperience, and somehow he’d found a way to use it against her anyway. ‘I should go,’ she said.

  ‘Ya think?’ he sneered.

  She needed to get away, humiliated now by the heat and longing still rippling through her body. How could she still respond to him when he had changed from the man she’d thought she knew to someone cruel and suspicious and judgemental?

  But before she’d gone five steps his voice tore through her.

  ‘Just so you know,’ he added, ‘when we get back to the city I’m gonna be talking to my lawyers.’

  She swung round. What was he saying?

  ‘I... I don’t understand,’ she said, keeping her voice even while her insides were turning into a gelatinous mass. How could she have put her career, and everything she’d worked for into so much jeopardy?

  ‘You snuck in here to get insider dope on me and my business for your boss. No way am I letting you use what you learned against me.’

  The brutal pressure in her chest increased as the heat of his fury emanated off his skin, making his biceps bulge as he planted his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. Unfortunately, that shifted the waistband of his pants lower, revealing the line of his hip flexors and the text of his tattoo—which read Laissez les bon temps rouler, she had discovered that morning, when she’d woken up in a sleepy haze and found him lying next to her.

  Heat pulsed and glowed at her core. Damning her even more.

  ‘But I didn’t find out anything compromising about you,’ she blurted out, ignoring the painful tightening in her chest. ‘And even if I did, I would never use it against you. Not after—’

  ‘How dumb do you think I am?’

  She heard it then—the insecurity beneath the anger—and suddenly she knew that the high school boy who had been ostracised in his hometown because of something his father had done still lurked inside this man, defensive and guarded. She couldn’t talk to this man, couldn’t make any of this right. The only thing to do now was to leave and hope she could repair what was left of her career and her self-respect. She’d fallen into his arms far too easily, given him something of herself she had never intended to give, and ended up being punished for it.

  ‘I’ll meet you at the plane,’ she said, feeling stupidly raw because she had given him so much ammunition... And for what? For a passing moment of physical pleasure...the chance to throw caution to the wind for the first time in her life. It had been exhilarating and exciting, and so much more than she had ever expected. But now she would be forced to pay the price for her naivete and her stupidity. ‘I think it’s probably best we leave as soon as possible.’

  His biceps flexed, making him even more imposing. Dark brows lowered over those blazing green eyes, drawing her gaze to the small scar she’d wondered about several times during the night. But then the hard line of his jaw tightened.

  ‘At least that’s one damn thing we can agree on,’ he said.

  Turning away from her, he stalked back to the kitchen island, the rigid line of his shoulders suggesting he wasn’t as calm and collected as he was trying to make out.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t much comfort for the pain digging its claws into her belly as she headed across the kitchen on unsteady legs towards the stairs.

  The last of her once glorious adventure had disintegrated, the hideous reality of it revealed, as humiliation and anxiety tangled in her gut.

  And one miserable thought reverberated in her head.

  How on earth am I going to survive an hour in a tiny plane with him when he hates my guts?

  * * *

  ‘We can’t leave.’

  Thirty minutes later Cassie stood on the dock with her evening purse and the torn gold dress stuffed into a backpack she’d borrowed from the housekeeper’s annexe. Her whole body was shaking as she tried to absorb what Luke had just barked at her.

  ‘What do you mean, we can’t leave?’ she said, trying to keep the tremble of panic out of her voice.

  Surely she could not have heard him correctly? He wanted her gone as much as she wanted to be gone. She needed to be gone, like, yesterday if she was going to have any chance whatsoever of preserving the remnants of her tattered dignity until this dreadful day was over.

  ‘The plane’s damaged. The Wi-Fi went down last night and the cell phone service went out twenty minutes ago, while I was talking to the mechanic,’ he said, his face implacable.

  ‘But...’

  But I can’t stay on Sunrise—not with you...not now. Not after the things you accused me of.

  ‘Don’t you have a boat?’ she asked, becoming more frantic by the second.

  Her phone had lost its service too, but she had actually been grateful for it, having no idea what she was supposed to say to Ash now.

  Ash’s jokey text had landed her in trouble with Luke, but she knew Ash wasn’t the one to blame for her predicament. Not even close. Eventually Luke would have found out the truth about Temple’s interest in his company and assumed the worst.