AllFreeNovel
Share Us
HONOR knelt back on her heels and sighed with frustration. The bottom drawer of the walnut desk was locked. She had jiggled experimentally at the handle but there was no way that it was going to fly open ‘accidentally’ and reveal its contents.
Light from the lamp on the desk glinted off a letter-opener lying beside it and she was tempted to try jabbing the point into the keyhole, but the temptation was only fleeting. The art of jimmying locks was not in her repertoire of skills and even if she flunked it there was a very definite line between surreptitiously searching and outright breaking and entering. It would be a gross abuse of hospitality, not to mention reprehensible criminal behaviour. Honor might be desperate but she wasn’t yet a complete moral degenerate.
She sighed again and put her hands flat on the carpet to lever herself to her feet.
‘Lost a contact lens?’
Her head snapped up so violently at the sarcastic enquiry that it collided with the overhanging corner of the desk.
‘Ouch!’ She rose, rubbing the sore spot, pain taking the edge off her shock at the sight of the big man who had flicked on the overhead light.
There was something not quite right about him in the stark elegance of a dinner suit, she thought dizzily. He looked magnificent, but rigid and uncomfortably formal.
She wondered if he had looked so cool and austere on the night of the Valentine’s Ball. Probably. She had learned from Joy, after some judicious prompting, that he had gone that night in a threesome with Zach and Tania in the latter’s brand-new Holden Commodore—Helen’s contemptible US-influenced ‘station wagon or something’—with some reluctance.
Mary had been born on the fifteenth of February and he was always a bit broody and melancholy on the eve of her birthday anniversary, Joy had confided, and his family had thought the distraction would be good for him. In his vulnerable state it wasn’t surprising that he had been a sucker for a damsel in distress, Honor had thought gloomily, especially if Helen reminded him of his beautiful wife. He himself had confessed that sending the valentine card the next day had been pure impulse, intended merely as a whimsical passing tribute to an intriguing beauty, and the swift, entertaining reply had taken him by surprise.
‘You’re back!’ she blurted inanely. She had watched his Mercedes roll out of the drive not twenty minutes ago, heading for a business function in Auckland. Even as the tail-lights disappeared into the fine mist of evening drizzle she had been busy planning how to take full advantage of his unexpected absence.
Honor watched him carefully close the door by leaning back against it.
‘Not before time, it would seem,’ he said silkily. ‘You’ve obviously lost something of value. Or should I say—failed to find it?’ His gaze went thoughtfully over her black muslin draw-string skirt and matching crop-top. ‘Are you dressed that way for dinner, or for cat-burglary? Basic black is so versatile that way, don’t you think?’
‘I thought you were going to be away for hours—you said you might even stay in town overnight.’ Honor glared at him, as if he were the one who had been caught red-handed.
‘I had a flat just down the hill, at the turn-off for the Scenic Drive.’ He brushed at his shoulders, drawing her attention to the glittering sheen of dampness on the fine black fabric and the speckles of mud ringing the lower edges of his trousers. ‘Since I was going to get wet and dirty whatever I did, it seemed quicker to leave the Merc and come back for a change of clothes and another car. But perhaps now I won’t go at all. Not when the prospect of a far more interesting evening has come up...’
She couldn’t mistake what he meant as he moved—no, prowled away from the door into the room, the unfamiliar stiffness melting into something more provocatively familiar as he flicked open the black tie and unbuttoned the high collar of his white shirt with a sigh of pleasurable relief.
He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it with typical careless disregard for its expensive tailoring across the back of the small two-seater couch opposite the wall of bookshelves. Still in leisurely motion, he skirted behind his desk, reaching into his deep pocket to draw out a set of keys, the smallest of which he used to unlock the drawer that had given her so much frustration. He opened it with a small, theatrical flourish and stood back with an inviting flip of his hand that invited her to investigate.
She didn’t even bother to look down, her attention riveted by the liquid gleam in his eyes and the dangerous sweetness of his smile. Her head throbbed and her heart fluttered. It wasn’t his anger she had to fear...
‘Not interested? There are some papers in there containing commercially sensitive information that certain people would pay you well for. And there’s my safe—have you tried that yet?’ He waved towards the wall.
His sarcasm had its usual bracing effect. ‘You know very well I’m not an industrial spy,’ she said truculently. ‘I just want what’s rightfully mine...’
And that includes you. Honor pressed her hand over her mouth, horrified that the careless words might actually have slipped out.
They hadn’t. Adam continued to look at her with that seductive mockery.
‘Poor Honor, you really are tied up in knots about those letters, aren’t you?’ he said gravely. ‘Here, let me look at that bump.’
Only he didn’t just look at it. His hand winnowed through her curls to hold her head still while the fingers of his other hand gently sought the stinging bruise.
She shied away when he touched it, conscious of the mingled scent of damp fabric and musky male sweat that rose from the heat of his body.
‘Adam—’
‘Shh, hold still. Mmm. I don’t think you’re in any danger of complications. I know what’ll make you feel better—’
Honor closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Yes, so do I—you! she replied silently.
‘The same as I do—a good, stiff drink,’ he said disappointingly. ‘Come and sit down; it’s about time we had a serious talk about something that might change your mind about continuing your criminal career.’
With those ominous words he led her, unresisting, over to the couch and pressed her down into the soft cushions, leaving her there while he slid back a panel in the bookcase, revealing an array of bottles and a mini-fridge. Honor was chagrined to realise that she hadn’t even discovered that innocuous little hiding place during her hasty, intermittent searches. Some criminal mastermind she would make!
He poured himself a large whisky on the rocks and added ginger ale to her small one, by now accustomed to her preferences.
