The Debt / Cross My Hart

But I couldn’t change the basic shape of my face. And of course, I had her eyes…

Dad had never treated me the same way since.

An old grief caught in my throat, but I forced the emotion down, distracting myself by glancing at the hotel entrance again.

This time I saw the doorman move to pull open the door and finally Mr Evans came striding out, his arm wrapped around a pretty blonde woman in a skintight red dress.

I only just suppressed a groan.

Bloody hell. There went any opportunity for a quiet word about Australis. If he was going to be entertaining women, I’d probably have to wait until tomorrow.

Annoyed and trying to ignore it, I got out of the car and hurried around the side to open the door, pasting on my usual smile.

The woman was tall and lovely, her dress beautiful, her make-up perfect. Just the kind of woman men liked. At least, she was definitely a woman my brothers would have liked.

She didn’t look at me as she got in and I was expecting Mr Evans to ignore me the way she had, but he didn’t. As I stood there holding the door, he glanced at me and those electric-blue eyes pinned me to the spot.

An intense, hot satisfaction glowed there and it was so at odds with the cold lightning that had been in them before that I could only stare, my breath catching.

But it was only a moment. The next second, he’d got into the car leaving me standing there staring into space, my heart beating unreasonably fast.

God, what was wrong with me? He was just a man. A rich man, yes, and powerful, but a man all the same. And I knew all about men. They were either stoic like my dad and my middle brother, Dev. Or they were cheeky and fun like my two older brothers, Jase and Justin. Or quiet like George, my youngest brother.

Or pretending to be nice and ending up a sleaze like Mark.

But Mr Evans didn’t fit into any of those categories. There was something burning inside him that none of the men I knew had, something that sparked and crackled like an arc welder melting metal.

I had no idea why that fascinated me or why I’d ended up standing there staring into space because he’d glanced at me…

It’s not static, remember?

But the thought was an uncomfortable one, so I pushed it away before it could settle, shutting the door and going around to the driver’s side, getting back behind the wheel.

I reached up to adjust the rear-view mirror, catching a glimpse of the pair of them as I did so.

Mr Evans’s dark head was bent and he was whispering in the woman’s ear. She was sitting very close, half turned towards him, her hand spread on the broad expanse of his chest, and she gave a soft giggle.

Ugh. Were they going to carry on like that the whole way? Not that it was any of my business what they did and not that I was at all bothered by it. I’d seen worse over the years I’d been driving.

Ignoring my strangely hot cheeks, I jerked my gaze away from the mirror and stared out of the front windscreen instead.

‘Back to your hotel, Mr Evans?’ I tried to sound cheerful and professional and completely relaxed about what was happening behind me.

‘Yes,’ Mr Evans said.

His voice had gone even deeper and grittier, a thread of heat curling through it, and, despite myself, I glanced into the mirror again, drawn inexplicably by the sound.

He was watching me, a hot blue flame glowing in the depths of his eyes.

My mouth dried and my heart kicked in my chest, which was totally ridiculous, because him looking at me shouldn’t affect me like that. Not after Mark and the way he used to stare at me from behind his computer in the workshop. Making me feel as if I’d had a bath in a tub full of grease.

So there shouldn’t have been any reason why I felt restless and hot. Why the expression in Mr Evans’s eyes connected to something hungry inside me. Something he saw that I hadn’t realised was there.

Something I didn’t understand.

I looked away before I could stop myself and then felt instantly annoyed. As if I’d retreated somehow, which was a mistake when dealing with a guy like him.

Get it together, Little. You shouldn’t be playing games anyway.

I definitely shouldn’t, not that I was a game player anyway. But there was a reason I’d managed to manoeuvre my way into driving for him and it wasn’t because he’d turned out to be hot shit on a stick.

I had a mission and I had to keep that in mind.

Determined not to look again, I started the limo and pulled away from the kerb, concentrating squarely on driving and not on the man behind me.

Except I found the low rumble of his voice distracting. There was a velvety texture to it, a kind of huskiness that made me feel shivery.

The engines of the Pythons sounded like that. A deep purr, like a giant cat. I loved the sound of those engines, loved those cars, sleek and dangerous and powerful.

Taking one of them for a spin around the track was a huge rush, an adrenaline hit I’d craved right from the first moment I’d sat behind the wheel and the engine had turned over, throbbing like a giant heartbeat.

The rush of speed had been the perfect way to deal with all the messy teenage emotions I hadn’t known how to handle, the emotions that Dad hadn’t known how to handle either, and so I’d taken to the track to drive whenever I was feeling upset or needing an emotional release.

Speed was better than crying and there was nothing like hitting the gas hard and throwing a powerful car around a few corners.

Ever since then, the revving purr of a V8 engine had made me feel good. Made me feel reckless and powerful. And listening to Mr Evans talk, his voice thrumming through me like one of those engines, a deep vibrating rumble that I could feel in my chest and lower, in my sex, made me feel that same way.

What would it be like to drive him?

What a stupid thought. He wasn’t a car. He was a man and probably wouldn’t appreciate being driven anywhere.

Yet try as I might to concentrate on the road ahead of me, the thought wouldn’t go away.

He was muscular and powerful, just like one of the Pythons. Would he take me on a wild ride if I put my hand on him? He probably wouldn’t be as easy to drive, but he’d certainly be as hot. And he’d be hard, too, and the rumble of his engine…

There was a throb between my legs, a hot, raw feeling that I wasn’t sure how to handle. I’d never felt this before, not for anyone, not even for my one lone high-school boyfriend.

Still think it’s static?

Okay, no. It wasn’t static. It was attraction. But that didn’t make things any easier, because I still didn’t know what to do about it.

Sex is what people usually do about it.

I glared out of the front windscreen as I manoeuvred the giant car through the narrow Parisian streets.

Sex was not happening. I’d had it a couple of times with that one single boyfriend and it had been nice but forgettable. Certainly not worth trying it with Mr Evans, even if he had been interested, which I was sure he wasn’t. Not given the woman he was with now.

Anyway, he was clearly a man who was used to being in charge and, after Mark and his handsy ways, I wasn’t keen on letting any guy take charge of me.

Apart from anything else, I was supposed to be asking him for more time on the Australis investment, not…anything else.

The lights were red at the intersection ahead of me so I stopped, irritatingly conscious of Mr Evans’s voice rumbling again, followed by more feminine laughter and then a soft gasp.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

I wasn’t going to look. I wasn’t curious. I didn’t need to see what was happening behind me.

Of course I looked.

And the way the rear-view mirror was positioned gave me the perfect view of one of his large hands cupping her breast over the fabric of her dress, his thumb moving lazily back and forth over her nipple.

I blinked, a weird flashback hitting me. Of how Mark had grabbed me from behind, squeezing me and pinching me, and how it had hurt. He’d been rough and I’d been taken by surprise, unable to jerk away until it was too late.

Yet the woman didn’t seem to find what Mr Evans was doing to her unpleasant. She was arching into his hand as if wanting more. And…it seemed as if he was holding her carefully, his thumb moving gently, lightly…

Unexpectedly, my own nipples hardened, pressing against the cotton of my bra, and I had to jerk my gaze away, my face flaming.

Bloody hell, what was I thinking? Staring at my clients wasn’t at all professional. And as for getting turned on by it…

No. Just no.

The light changed colour and I put my foot on the accelerator, determined to ignore what I’d just seen.

But Mr Evans made another of those deep, purring sounds and it shivered through me, making my mouth go dry and the throb in my sex even more intense.

Was it the blonde making him sound like that? And why? What was she doing?

Madness. I shouldn’t even want to look again, let alone be battling the sudden and intense desire to do just that.

Another set of lights was up ahead, turning red as soon as I approached.

I wasn’t going to look. I wasn’t.

But I couldn’t help myself. I did.

His hand had moved to her butt, curving around it possessively, while hers had shifted from his chest and down between his powerful thighs, her fingers spread as she cupped him through his jeans, her red nails standing out against the blue denim.

I swallowed, trying vainly to get some moisture into my bone-dry mouth.

Her fingers were lazily stroking up and down, tracing the outline of something very long and very thick, and his thighs were spread wide, giving her room, as if he was enjoying very much what she was doing to him.

A hungry feeling pulsed inside me, my palms sweaty as I gripped the steering wheel.

This time I couldn’t drag my gaze away. I was glued to the view in the mirror, mesmerised and not even sure why.

There was something hypnotic about the way her fingers moved on him, about the shape of his cock beneath the denim, that caught my attention, twisting my curiosity tight and refusing to let go.

What did he feel like? Was he hot? Was he as hard as he looked? Would he make that soft bass rumble for me if I touched him?

Need throbbed between my thighs, my hands itching to touch.

I loved driving, and chauffeuring satisfied that need in me, but I also loved design. There was nothing that gave me as much pleasure as the clean lines and curves of a beautifully designed car, form and function perfectly melded.

I wanted to see Mr Evans’s form. I wanted to see the lines and curves of him, and whether he’d be as beautifully designed for power and strength as he seemed to be. I already knew his torso was a work of art, but what about the rest of him?

My heartbeat accelerated like one of the Pythons, revving hard.

The mirror didn’t show his face and suddenly I wanted to see it. Wanted to know what his scarred features looked like when he was turned on and whether those intense blue eyes were still full of heat and not just lightning.

With a hand that shook only slightly, I reached up to adjust the mirror so I could see. Then froze as his gaze clashed with mine.

Electricity sizzled through me and this time there was no static to blame.

It was all him.

‘The light is green, Miss Little,’ he said in his deep, rough voice.

And it took me at least five seconds to process what he was saying. And then I did.

Oh, crap.

My face burned and I wrenched my gaze away, pressing my foot down hard on the accelerator. Too hard. Much to my shame the car bunny-hopped a couple of times before I managed to bring it under control again. I stuttered an apology, keeping my attention resolutely forward this time.

He didn’t answer, but I was just about combusting with embarrassment, angry with myself for staring when I knew I shouldn’t, and also at my own reaction. At the pulsing, insistent ache between my thighs.

I didn’t understand it. Australis’s continued existence was on the line and here I was, letting some stupid sex stuff distract me. And now he’d caught me watching him…

He’ll probably fire you.

Shit. The thought made my palms even more sweaty.

I tried to dismiss it, plaster my smile in place, get back into a more professional space, but I was still blushing furiously by the time I pulled the car up outside Mr Evans’s hotel.

‘Stay there, Miss Little,’ he growled as I reached to undo my seat belt.

Oh, great.

He said something to the woman that I didn’t catch, but I didn’t dare look this time to see what was going on.

Instead I waited, staring out of the widow, listening to the rear door open and then close with a thunk.

There was a long silence.

Eventually, I had to glance in the mirror, because the suspense was killing me.

The blonde had gone, but Mr Evans hadn’t.

He was still sitting in the back seat.

And he was staring straight at me.

CHAPTER FOUR

Ash

I HAD NO idea what Miss Ellie Little was playing at, but one thing I did know: she needed to stop.

Because I was finding that having my fresh-faced chauffeur steal little glances in the rear-view mirror, watching me while the blonde stroked my cock through my jeans, was surprisingly erotic. And that if she kept on doing it, she was going to find herself spread out on the back seat of the limo, naked, with me on top of her.

Which obviously could not happen.

I should be thinking about screwing my beautiful blonde friend instead, because she was sexy and experienced and definitely not working for me. Unlike Miss Little.

Which meant I should not be thinking about Miss Little’s sneaky glances in the mirror, watching us from her place in the driver’s seat, her gaze darkening as she realised what was happening. Colour flooding her clear skin, making her freckles stand out, and her lush red mouth open.

Or thinking about how watching the blonde and me was turning her on.

Or about the realisation that it wasn’t so much what the blonde was doing to me that was making me hard as it was Ellie’s reaction.

It was obvious she didn’t want to look and yet hadn’t been able to help herself, and I liked that very much.

Too much.

I’d got under her insufferably chirpy skin, flustered her; made her blush. And I found that incredibly satisfying, especially after she’d steadfastly refused to show any reaction to me or my temper.

Except there’s nothing you can do about it.

Irritation gnawed at me. Even though she was only driving for me temporarily, she was still an employee and that was a line I never crossed.

And it irritated me still further that the thought she was forbidden only made me harder, perverse bastard that I was.

The lights from outside illuminated Ellie’s face in the mirror and the deep blush still burning in her cheeks. I could even see the scattering of freckles across her nose. She was clearly embarrassed yet she didn’t look away. ‘Uh, so I guess I’m fired now, right?’ she said, that cheerful smile trying to make an appearance again, though it wasn’t as confident as it had been before. ‘Perving at the clients isn’t exactly a good look, I know, but—’

‘Want to tell me why you were staring at my dick?’ I demanded, not letting her finish, impatient with the attraction that burned in my blood and with the hard-on in my jeans that refused to subside no matter how unwanted it was.

Her smile faltered, green sparks of irritation flickering to life in her hazel eyes, and that didn’t help. Because I did not need further signs that I was getting to her. Not given the state I was in.

‘To be fair, I could hardly not stare at your dick,’ she pointed out. ‘Especially when it was in my face every time I had to check my rear-view mirror.’ She tried again with the smile, though it was even less convincing this time. ‘And hey, if you really didn’t want me to see, you should have put the partition up.’

She might have been trying to make a joke of it, but I heard the note of challenge in her husky voice and it hit me like a shot of adrenaline, making my cock even harder than it was already.

Fuck, she had guts confronting me like that.

Respect stirred inside me even as my anger deepened, mostly at myself for not simply getting out of the car and going after the blonde, whom I could at least have in my bed without all these moral quandaries.

And it didn’t help that she was right. I should have put the partition up. But I hadn’t. Because I liked her watching.

My jaw ached, tension crawling through my shoulders.

I’d come out of the club so pleased with myself, because my meeting with Delaney had gone extremely well. My price for the islands was significantly more than what Dumont had offered him and he’d been into the idea. Though not without a few unexpected caveats.

The islands had been in his family for years and he had a certain sentimental attachment to them, going on to tell me that he’d hoped to sell them to someone who was family-minded, too.

I wasn’t family-minded in the slightest, but to get those islands away from Dumont, I could pretend, so I’d muttered some nonsense about a girlfriend and how we were looking to get serious. Delaney had been surprised, but very positive, and told me he’d be in touch in a couple of days, likely with good news.

It had all been very satisfying. As had been the prospect of a couple of hours’ pleasure with the blonde.

But not now. Now the thought of the blonde left me cold.

Get out of the car, you stupid bastard.

I should get out of the car. Not sit here, hard and annoyed because I wanted a woman I shouldn’t touch.

But I didn’t.

And she was still looking at me in the rear-view mirror, gold glowing through the green in her eyes, like the sun through leaves on a hot summer’s day. Making me realise that I was cold and had been for quite some time.

Except the gold in her eyes now was different from the sunny cheerfulness of before. There was a smoky heat to it that was definitely not forced.

Where there’s heat, there’s fire.

Oh, yes, I could see hints of that fire now, glowing embers in her gaze that wouldn’t take much to ignite…

‘You shouldn’t look at me like that.’ My voice was rough and harsh in the dense silence of the car. ‘Not if you’re not ready to face the consequences.’

‘What consequences?’ Her hands were curled around the steering wheel, making me think of how it might feel to have those delicate fingers wrapped around my cock.

Did she really have no idea? Could she not feel this tension between us? Static, she’d said back at the hotel, a response that had seemed genuine. Which meant she was probably inexperienced.

Yet another reason for me to get the fuck out of the car and not sit here like a bloody fool, staring into her pretty gold eyes.

‘What consequences do you think?’ I snapped, my temper getting a mean edge. ‘I don’t want to fire you, Miss Little. I want to fuck you.’

Shock flickered over her face. ‘What?’

‘Don’t act so surprised. Did you really think those little glances you kept stealing wouldn’t get me as hard as a rock?’

She blinked rapidly. ‘Uh… Are you sure you’re not talking about the blonde chick? I mean, she was the one who had her hand on…um…you.’

Was she serious? Or was she playing with me? Some women liked that kind of game, but I didn’t. I preferred straight-up honesty, especially when it came to sex.

However, there was no doubting the surprise in Ellie’s eyes: she really had thought it was the blonde.

‘No, I’m not talking about the “blonde chick”,’ I said, increasingly annoyed at the hard-on in my jeans and my apparent inability to get the fuck out of the car and away from her. ‘You kept looking at me like you wanted to join in.’

Her cheeks turned an even deeper red. ‘I didn’t want to join in.’

‘No? Then why did you keep staring?’

‘I…’ She looked away. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. That wasn’t very professional.’

‘Screw being professional. Just answer the bloody question. And look at me when I’m talking to you.’

She stiffened then abruptly twisted around in her seat so she was facing me, the dusting of freckles across her nose even more fascinating close up without the distancing effect of the mirror.

Gone was the cheerful smile. Green sparks of anger danced in her eyes instead and they were every bit as interesting as her freckles.

‘Look, you’re being a bit bloody rude,’ she said flatly. ‘I’d heard of your reputation, but seriously, mate, you need to tone it down. I’m just doing my job.’

Mate? She’d really just called me ‘mate’?

This pretty little thing in her chauffeur’s cap, who didn’t know what the hell she was getting into, thought she could talk to me like that? Because if so, she really did have no idea what she was doing.

I was a man who liked a fight, who was all about the challenge. And if that challenge was a pretty woman I could get down and dirty and sweaty and raw with? Who I could take apart with pleasure, make her beg, make her want all kinds of filthy things?

Fuck, yes.

Which made me too much for this sweet-faced girl, no matter how badly she called to the warrior in me.

The blonde would have been able to handle me. The blonde knew what she was getting into.

You don’t want the blonde.

And that was the problem. I didn’t.

‘Say that again, and there will be consequences.’ I didn’t disguise the naked threat in my voice. It was explicit.

She didn’t appear to hear it. ‘So you keep saying. What exactly are these consequences, then?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘If you’re too bloody afraid to say them out loud then maybe you shouldn’t go throwing vague threats around.’ Gold glittered briefly in her eyes. ‘Mate.’

If that wasn’t a gauntlet thrown down, I didn’t know what was.

Exhilaration pulsed through me and I leaned forward, getting in her face, giving her a taste of what it would be like to tangle with me and enjoying the way her breath caught in response.

‘You’re a pretty thing, Miss Little. And pretty things shouldn’t mess with men like me.’

‘Pretty thing?’ she echoed, incredulous. ‘Dude, seriously?’

‘You’re pretty and you’re a little thing.’ I leaned forward even more, getting closer. ‘And I eat pretty little things for breakfast.’

We were almost nose to nose, but she didn’t move away or back down. She was so close. Close enough for me to see the fine grain of her skin and the sparks of gold and green glowing in her eyes. To feel the heat of her body and smell the warm, musky scent of her.

Her pulse beat fast at the base of her throat and her mouth looked soft and kissable. Fuckable, too.

‘That’s not at all patronising.’ She glared at me. ‘How would you like it if I called you…big dick or something?’

Oh, yes, I was getting to her. I very definitely was.

Desire spiked in my blood, a hot, raw feeling. ‘I’d like it just fine,’ I said roughly, trying to resist the urge to grab her hand, draw it over my fly and hold it down so she could feel how big I actually was.

She went scarlet and I didn’t miss the way her gaze dropped to my groin, where my cock was pressing hard against the denim. ‘Of course you would,’ she muttered. ‘But firstly, I’m not pretty or a thing. And secondly, you’re not…uh…’ She stopped.

‘Big?’ I finished. ‘Are you sure about that?’

Her hazel gaze flicked up, the fire I’d sensed in her beginning to ignite. ‘What? You want me to check?’ She sounded defiant and angry, yet the heat in her eyes told a different story.