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“My boss,” she replied, punching in the number to the law firm.
“I already took care of that.”
Her fingers stilled on the last digit and she stared incredulously at him.
“You what?” She’d heard incorrectly.
“Arnold and I are old friends. I took care of it.”
He took care of it? She’d been trying to get Arnold Hastings to give her more days off for months now, and Conall had taken care of it, because they were old friends?
It was then he moved, and as she watched him come toward her, she thought of an animal slowly stalking its prey. It did nothing to quell the heat coursing through her body. In fact, it did the opposite. The robe began to stifle her.
He stopped before her, took the phone from her hand, and placed it back onto the cradle. Vivienne swallowed audibly, her lips parting of their own volition as she stared into his eyes. Blue fire. That was what it was—wait! She needed answers.
She stepped away, almost falling onto the bed in her haste to put distance between them. Righting herself, she ran a hand down the front of the robe and pulled the belt tight, making sure it was still secured. A hint of a smile played around his lips and Vivienne glared at him. She knew he was laughing at her, could almost hear the taunt in her head.
“When, why, and how did I get here?”
The smile faded. He approached her again. Vivienne contemplated backing away but she knew he would welcome it. She sensed he liked the chase.
When he was standing directly before her, he spoke. “I brought you here last night.”
“How?”
“In my car.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember.”
“You were sleeping.”
Or drugged.
She saw his brows lift and she briefly wondered if she’d spoken aloud. No, she hadn’t. It wasn’t as if he could read her thoughts!
“Why did you bring me here?”
His face grew serious and then he stepped closer. A hand snaked about her waist as the other cupped her cheek. He pulled until she was pressed against his body.
Slowly, carefully, he asked, “What are you, Vivienne?”
To say that Vivienne’s thoughts were scrambled would have been an understatement. Her eyes followed the movement of his lips, so she knew what he’d asked, it was just taking a while to formulate an answer that could be deemed coherent.
Conall’s eyes suddenly darkened and he leaned down and attached his lips to hers. Moaning, Vivienne threw her arms around his neck, opening her mouth for the sweet invasion of his tongue. His hips surged against hers and she whimpered as her body instantly reacted, preparing itself for him. Somehow, she found the strength to push him back, even if he only moved an inch.
“Wait—s-stop!” Her hands moved to his shoulders, and she anchored them there. Drawing in quick breaths, and ignoring the heat that seemed to be licking at every inch of her body she added, “You didn’t answer my question.”
The hand at her waist slackened but didn’t fall. “You’re safe here.”
She lifted a brow and retorted, “I don’t know that.”
“Yes, you do.”
Vivienne glared at him. She did feel safe around him, but how was a person to know that another person wasn’t crazy? Especially as she’d barely met him only twice before. She flushed when she remembered the things he’d done to her last night. She’d slept with a man she barely knew and had enjoyed every minute of it. Even now, as she thought of the names she would heap on people in her situation, she found she couldn’t regret last night.
She pulled away and the hand at her waist fell as he straightened to his full height. Vivienne was in no way short, standing at five eight, but Conall still had several inches on her. She suspected he was taller than her father, making him inches taller than six feet. He wore a dark turtleneck, jeans, and combat boots, a stark contrast to the expensive suit she’d seen him in yesterday. But God, it didn’t take anything away from his sex appeal. He’d looked scrumptious in the suit, but he looked rough and manly, very sexy, now.
Spinning away, Vivienne put even more distance between them. She doubted it would help her traitorous body, but the space made her feel better. She’d already acted like a loose woman last night, but at least she could have some class about it during the day.
“Where are my clothes?” She paused and added as an afterthought, “And my bag?”
She didn’t see him move, she was turned away. She didn’t hear him move. The man was silent, but she felt him, somehow, and knew that he was right behind her. It was almost as if her body were a sensor and it reacted every time he came close.
