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“No, your life is routine, when you’re here. As I said, you run at the same time, you generally keep to the same rhythms.”
“Fine, but not within the walls of my own home. I just…do whatever I feel like.”
“And after you’ve had a drink, what do you generally feel like?”
“Showering. Speaking of which, I should get ready. I want to leave in half an hour.” She moved around the island bench, glad to create some space between them. “There’s food in the fridge. Alice will have made some meals. Just heat up whatever you want. I can’t vouch for the kind of stuff we’ll be served at the thing tonight – everything’s probably gin soaked.”
“Where is your bathroom?”
“Upstairs. Why?”
“Show me.”
Her eyes widened. “You can’t seriously be expecting to watch me shower?”
His eyes flicked with speculation before he could tamp it down; the air between them sparked with electric awareness. “I’ll inspect your home personally tonight. Going forward, I’ll bring in my own team of operatives to watch the premises, and conduct a handover upon our return.”
“A team of…I feel like I’ve landed in the middle of some kind of GI Joe fantasy. This is my home, Noah.”
“And I want you to be safe here. Which way?”
She gave up fighting him. Time was ticking and she was nowhere near ready.
Besides which, his inspection did fill her with a confidence she hadn’t realized was lacking. He was ridiculously thorough, even checking under the bed, so she wanted to make a joke about her inner five year old and the bogey man. But Noah Storm wasn’t a man you made jokes to. He was all serious, all business.
“I’ll wait downstairs.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket, removing a small button, like a remote control for a car. “This is wired to alert my watch. All you have to do is press this button and I’ll know you need me. Keep it near you at all times.”
“Yessir,” she responded, teasing, even when it was something else that gave her a rush of reassurance. His eyes held hers, as though he was tempted to remind her this was no joking matter, but he evidently thought better of it, stepping away and turning, leaving the room.
It was her bedroom, but without Noah it suddenly felt cavernous and…frightening. She shivered, glad he wasn’t here to see the ridiculous emotion, and focused on the night ahead. She pushed all thoughts of a stalker and security from her mind, concentrating instead on cultivating the persona of Max Fortescue, billionaire heiress and ‘it girl’, the woman everyone expected her to be.
She’d chosen her outfit last week – a pair of skin tight leather pants, a lace bra and a blazer that cut in a generous vee towards her belly button, exposing a hint of the lace bra and her rounded breasts. It was couture, classic, and despite the revealing nature of the blazer, somehow elegant. But as she dressed, she could think only of Noah, and his reaction to the outfit, and suddenly she didn’t want to go out dressed like this. She wanted to stay home. Just with him.
The thought send her into a panic and she finished getting ready with more determination, fluffing her hair around her shoulders, slipping on a pair of sky high heels with slender ankle straps, before retrieving a Givenchy clutch from her wardrobe. She double checked her appearance in the floor to ceiling mirror, nodding at her makeup, hair and outfit, before sashaying from the room as though everything in her life were completely normal.
Noah was in the kitchen, and despite the fact she’d expected to find him there, her heart skipped several beats at the sight of him. He’d removed his jacket and pushed his sleeves up his forearms, spread some papers out on the counter, which he was busy reading, and there was a half-eaten apple to his side.
“You should have more than an apple, Noah,” she said, her voice higher in pitch than normal, as she moved towards him.
/> He looked up, and she was gratified by the look in his eyes, by the way he straightened and appraised her slowly, so slowly heat travelled her body as his eyes moved. Every treacherous thought she’d tried to quash came back to her with a vengeance. Stay home. Ask him all those questions. Take off the blazer.
“Who’s Caroline Bingham?”
Max had to rally to get her thoughts in order. “I don’t know.”
“She was employed by you six months ago. She’s not anymore. Why?”
“I’d have to ask Alice,” Max murmured, moving into the kitchen so she could look at the HR files Noah had. It brought their bodies side by side and she was aware of his every movement, so she wanted to lean closer, to brush up against him, she wanted him to grab her wrist again, to touch her. What was happening to her?
“See?” He reached across her, grabbing the papers and positioning them right in front of Max, a gesture that brushed his arm across her body, so she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed in, seeking stability.
She blinked down, into the woman’s face. “Yes, I vaguely remember her. I think she helped Alice out, but I really can’t remember the specifics. Alice will know.”
“I’ll speak to her tomorrow.”
“Great. Then let’s go.”
“You’re not going to have dinner?”
