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“Then you never even touched me.”
“Have you forgotten my belt on your rather lovely arse?”
She shakes her head. “I haven’t forgotten. I doubt I’ll ever forget that. But you could have done a lot more. Why didn’t you?”
“You mean, why didn’t I fuck you?” I don’t dress it up.
She reddens and nods. “You had the chance. I was so scared…”
“You were meant to be. I needed information from you, and stripping you was one way to make you feel vulnerable. More likely to tell me what I wanted to know. I do what needs to be done to achieve results, and no more.”
“Oh. I see.”
I doubt if she does. I continue. “Don’t misunderstand me, Ruth. It’s not that I don’t want to fuck you. Far from it. But if I do,whenI do, it will be what you want, too.”
Her eyes widen. She gapes at me, open-mouthed. “I would never…!”
I reach for her chin and gently close her mouth. “Never is a big word.”
“But it makes no sense. Why would I…want you? You’re mistaking me for some silly girl with a Stockholm complex.”
I shake my head. “I don’t see you as silly at all. I see you as a bright, resourceful, courageous, and beautiful woman who found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time. In other circumstances, well, who knows?”
I doubt if I could have bewildered her more if I’d flapped my arms and fluttered round the room. Her jaw drops. Again. She gapes at me.
I can’t resist the temptation to kiss her, so I do it. Just a light brush, nothing too demanding, nothing the startle the horses. A gentle whisper across her lips, then I step back with a smile.
“Sleep well, Ruth,” I murmur.
She remains rooted to the spot when I leave and bolt the door behind me. I doubt she’ll sleep at all.
CHAPTER8
Tony
“The place needsa lick of paint. And a new sign.” I lean on the bar at the Hope and Anchor to impart this news. “I’ve arranged for a team to come in.”
“A team?” Jenna raises her gaze from the pint she’s pulling for the middle-aged punter next to me.
I think he’s called Reggie and I get the impression he’s a regular.
“I hope it’s nothing too flashy. I mean, I know it needs doing, but the profits aren’t—”
“It does need doing,” I agree. “Ethan likes his premises to be well-presented. It’s a matter of image. It’ll be five grand, tops. We’ll fund it, and you can pay us back over time.”
She nods, but it’s clear she’s not happy. Yet another signal that maybe the accounts aren’t telling the whole story. Five grand might not be small change, but it’s certainly achievable if the books are accurate.
“Is there a problem?” I ask. There’s something not quite adding up here, and I’d prefer her to tell me herself rather than let me discover what’s going on despite her.
She shakes her head. “No. It’s fine. When are they coming?”
“Next week,” I reply, my eyes narrowed. Now’s her chance.
“I see. Would you like another drink?”
Right. Not today, then. “A beer, please.”
“Is that all? I had you down as a vodka man. Or whisky.”
