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Jess let out a laugh of sheer delight. “Oh my fucking god, is that really your mobile phone ringtone?”
Digging in his pocket for his damn mobile, Desmond scowled. Christ, he knew he shouldn’t have let his sister borrow his phone in the Sydney airport.
Jess jerked her stare away from Desmond just as he yanked his mobile free of his pocket.
“Russell,” she heard him say.
Scrunching her eyes tightly closed, she let out a slow, shaky breath. Fuck, that was close. The bastard had busted her gawking at him with—she feared—open lust on her face. Thank God for whomever it was on the other end of the connection or who the hell knew what may have happened next.
With the way her body was carrying on, she may very well have stripped naked right there on the spot and begged him to have his
wicked way with her.
Huh. Wicked? Something about the smooth, poised way he controlled himself suggested wicked was the wrong word.
Supremely confident way with her?
Arrogantly dominating way with her?
Her pussy contracted on that option. Her nipples pinched tightly.
Dropping her focus to her feet, she made her way out of what was left of the living room, making certain to disturb as little as possible as she left the remains of the house. She’d been over the scene with a fine-tooth comb for evidence of arson and had already drawn her conclusions—and written her report, which Desmond Russell had allegedly read. She knew there was nothing outside of the destroyed living room pertinent to the investigation. She didn’t, however, want Desmond to believe her incompetent.
And you care?
The thought made her grind her teeth. And quicken her steps.
She’d been prepared from the second she’d received the call from him, a mere two hours after the Deputy Prime Minister’s homestead burnt down, to despise him. She’d met her fair share of big-city wankers, his father being the worst of them, and all of them deserved to be despised.
She’d also met her fair share of men who thought a woman had no place in the fire brigade, let alone as captain. Those men—usually from the city—tried to either humiliate her or feel her up her during interregional fire brigade meetings. Those men soon discovered just because she was five foot three didn’t mean she didn’t know her way round a fire scene…or her way round a bunch of testosterone-fuelled males. Growing up with an older brother in an Outback town where there was a male to female ratio of 11:5 meant she neither humiliated easily nor let anyone get handsy.
That hadn’t changed since Kenny’s death six and a half months ago. In fact, thanks to Desmond Russell’s father, she’d probably grown more…feisty.
That feistiness had taken hold of her the moment she was told the PM and the Deputy PM were bringing in “help” in the investigation of the Broken Downs fire. It hadn’t dissipated when she’d laid eyes on the guy, even if he was sex in a suit. It sure as shit hadn’t faded when he’d revealed Darius Russell was his father.
No siree.
So why was she hurrying away now as if she were tiptoeing across eggshells?
Because despite the fact he’s the son of the big-city wanker whose incompetence let Kenny’s murder go unreported, despite the fact he’s here on your turf, looking into your fire scene, you can’t help but accept he’s nothing like his father. You can’t help but recognize the skill in his investigation, the studied consideration. The calm contemplation. And you like it.
She let out a wobbly sigh, unable to stop herself from shooting a quick glance over her shoulder at the irritation in a suit.
He still stood motionless, mobile phone pressed to his ear, his concentration fixed on the burnt remains of what was once an antique chair.
Her pussy contracted again, a reflexive tightening of muscles linked directly to her libido.
Like it? Or like him?
“Absolutely, Prime Minister.”
Jess stiffened as a soft breeze blew Desmond’s words across to her. She pricked up her ears, an itching pressure creeping over her scalp.
Prime Minister. Of course, he was talking to the Prime Minister. About her investigation?
“…only just arrived but already I have a…”
The breeze shifted, taking his words with it.
