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Rollo felt the word tug at his senses like a kite on a string. It was just three little letters...a place to sleep. But spoken by Daisy in that husky voice it seemed to hint at tangled sheets and bodies moving slowly in the half-light.
Glancing over to where she sat, leaning back against the cushions, he felt his body stiffen in immediate painful response. She was looking up at him with those dark espresso-coloured eyes—eyes that somehow managed to look sleepy yet seductive at the same time.
He gritted his teeth. In his office he’d thought she was beautiful, but now, dressed casually, her legs curling against the leather of the sofa, she looked sexier than any woman he’d ever seen.
Maybe it was the curve of her bottom beneath the tight denim, or the glimpse of bare skin where her oversized sweatshirt was slipping off her shoulder.
The bare skin she would soon be soaping upstairs in the shower.
The thought of her standing naked, water dribbling over her body, was so tantalising that he could suddenly hardly breathe and, swallowing hard, he turned to where a faint pinkish glow through the windows indicated that night was turning to day.
Daisy’s desirability was undeniable. But this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to get what he wanted from James Dunmore. He must be careful not to get distracted by her beauty and her sexual allure.
Clearing his throat, he shook his head. ‘No. There’s nothing. Everything else can wait...’ he glanced round ‘...until morning,’ he finished slowly.
Daisy was asleep, lying on her side, one arm curled under her head like a cat. For a moment he watched her in silence, seeing her as though for the first time—a younger, more vulnerable Daisy. Someone who needed protecting.
The thought needled him, lodging beneath his ribs like a thorn. Why wasn’t anyone looking out for her? Her family, her brother, her parents? It made him feel angry all over again only in a different way—angry that she was there on his sofa. That somehow she was now his responsibility.
Responsibility. The word snagged in his throat like a fish bone. Feeling responsible hadn’t been part of the equation when he’d come up with the idea of marrying Daisy. It made him feel tense, with its implication of commitment, that somehow there was a bond between them.
Frowning, he ran a hand wearily over his jaw, feeling the scrape of stubble against his fingertips. But was it really such a big deal? All business transactions needed a bond to function. And that was all this was. A transaction. All the rest was just tiredness making him paranoid.
Sighing, he leaned forward, picked up his jacket and gently draped it over her shoulder. She shifted in her sleep, murmuring, fingers splaying apart, and he held his breath. But she didn’t wake and finally, after one last look, he turned and walked slowly away.
* * *
Waking, it took Daisy a moment to realise where she was. Drowsily she twisted over, sensing daylight, wondering why she had forgotten to draw the curtains in her bedroom. And then her eyes snapped open and instantly her body stilled as she remembered exactly where she was. And why.
Heart beating fast, she lay rigid, the breath trapped in her throat, her limbs stiff, until her muscles began to ache and finally she forced herself to sit up. She gazed warily around the huge living room. There was no sign of Rollo, but her relief was tempered with a slight sense of uneasiness for she could still sense his presence.
Glancing down, she instantly realised why. Someone, presumably Rollo, had covered her with his jacket while she was asleep. Tentatively she picked it up, and inhaled the clean citrus scent of his cologne from the fabric.
The thought of his cool green eyes watching her while she slept made her feel edgy, exposed. He was the enemy, and yet he had seen her at her most vulnerable. It was unsettling. Almost as unsettling as the idea that he had tried to make her comfortable. It seemed a strangely caring gesture from a man who was entirely lacking in empathy.
Her phone vibrated inside her pocket and, pulling it out, she forgot all about Rollo. It was a text from David, along with two earlier messages she had missed.
Scrolling down, she read them slowly, a lump swelling in her throat as she realised how completely her brother trusted her. Not only had he believed her explanation for why he was being allowed to keep his job, but he was almost unbearably grateful to Rollo for being so ‘understanding, compassionate, forgiving...’
Remembering her hurried phone call to him from the limo, she sighed. It hadn’t been her most convincing performance, only David had been too exhausted and relieved to notice the strain in her voice or question the credibility of her story. But she knew he might not be so easily persuaded the next time so she’d agreed with Rollo that it would be better not to speak to him in person again for a couple of days.
Leaning forward, Daisy tried to ease the sudden thickness in her throat. She loved her brother. Only right now and for the first time ever, she was glad not to have to hear his voice.
Of course, she was relieved and happy that her brother’s life was back on track. He would keep his job and with his debt almost cleared, he could put everything behind him. But a small, whining voice inside her head kept on asking the same question.
What about me? What about my life?
Her stomach gave a low, protesting rumble, as though it was objecting to her selfishness, and sliding her phone back into her pocket she took a deep, calming breath.
What was done was done. And what was more it had been her choice, not David’s, to go along with Rollo’s crazy suggestion. David knew nothing about it and there was no way she was going to tell him either. She knew her brother—he would want her to call the whole thing off or, more likely, she would convince him to let her carry on and the guilt would destroy him.
Far better just to let him think that everything was back to normal. And then, at some unspecified point in the future, she would tell him and her parents, her friends—the whole world, in fact—about her ‘relationship’ with Rollo. The thought made her breath hitch higher in her throat.
David was her twin. They told one another everything. Lying to him, and about something so personal and important, was going to be difficult—especially when the shock of it was still so new to her.
Her stomach grumbled again more loudly.
But right now, though, there were more pressing matters to address. Like the fact that if she didn’t eat soon, she would probably keel over. She needed some food, and then maybe she might take a look around her new ‘home.’
