Tycoon's Terms of Engagement. Natalie Anderson
want to be more quickly without directions.’
Without directions? ‘You don’t know where I’m going to take you.’
‘But I know exactly where I want to go.’
She pressed her lips together, understanding. He’d been to Melbourne before. He had somewhere he wanted to go. So he’d hijacked her abduction plan.
‘You don’t like ceding control? Always have to be in charge of the destination? Hence your need to write travel guides telling people the best way to get to the best place to go?’
She shouldn’t have said that—Steffi Leigh was supposed to be too sweet to get snippy.
‘You’re the one dictating what colour gelato people should eat to look “effortlessly cool”,’ he mocked. ‘As if flavour doesn’t matter.’
‘You have it wrong. Taste is everything.’
‘Is it?’ His lips curved. ‘What do you suggest I taste?’
She was not responding to the suggestion in that question. She was ignoring it altogether. ‘And there was me thinking that the Wolfe way was to take the route less travelled—to put yourself in the care of the locals…’ Coolly she spouted his own travel tips at him.
‘You want to take care of me?’ He laughed.
That genuine sound surprised her into silence. He was a different man from the one she’d first laid eyes on. Had she dreamt the terse way he’d spoken into the phone and that bleak expression? And then that naked hostility? Because now he was all charm.
He turned the key and the car purred. Slowly he pulled out into the lane of traffic.
‘Who’s Dan?’ he asked.
She gritted her teeth, holding back the What business is it of yours? bite that had leapt to her throat. ‘My cat.’
‘Cat…?’ he echoed. His eyes narrowed on the road ahead. ‘You don’t look like a cat lady. I’d have thought you’d be a handbag dog diva.’
‘So last decade,’ she murmured. ‘And you know I live to subvert your stereotypical assumptions about vapid creatures like me.’
‘I never said you were vapid.’
‘You didn’t have to. It was all in the look.’
‘Look?’
‘The look you sent me when I first arrived.’
‘How did I look at you?’
‘Like you couldn’t believe you were going to have to sit through a boring business meeting with a brainless piece of fluff like me.’
He pulled up at a red light and turned to meet her eyes. ‘How am I looking at you now?’
Meeting his eyes, she couldn’t think at all. Then she remembered his contortionist comment and his taste comment and saw the unrestrained provocation in his eyes. ‘Like you’re hungrier than you claim to be.’
An electrical charge pulsed in the resulting silence.
‘All big eyes and sharp teeth?’ he finally responded. ‘You’re afraid I’m the Big Bad Wolf?’
‘Aren’t you?’
‘You’re confusing me with my brother George. I’m no wolf—not really.’ For a second that bleakness flashed into his eyes again, but he blinked and it was gone.
‘How disappointing,’ Stephanie murmured.
‘You were looking forward to the chase?’ he challenged. ‘Did you want to be caught and devoured?’
‘I was looking forward to running away.’ As she answered she realised it wasn’t a mere Steffi Leigh comeback but the honest truth. She had been looking forward to running away for a couple hours this afternoon. Escaping her tiny flat, her brother, her blog. Taking Jack Wolfe on a tour had been an excuse, so she wouldn’t feel guilty about walking out for a little while.
He looked at her more thoughtfully. More intensely. ‘You surprise me.’
‘I’m so pleased,’ she replied, far too politely. And far too falsely even for Steffi Leigh.
‘Stephanie—’ He broke off at the sound of a phone ringing.
He looked at the phone, his face becoming that rigid mask again as he glanced at the name on the screen. ‘Excuse me a moment. I need to take this.’
He pulled over to the side of the road, ignoring the blare of the horn from the car behind.
‘Well?’ he asked tersely. There was a moment as the caller replied. Then, ‘Fine. I’ll be there.’
Jack tucked his phone inside his jacket pocket, but didn’t pull back into the line of traffic. His hand on the steering wheel clenched into a fist. Stephanie ran her tongue over her dried lips, unsure whether or not to speak. She knew he was looking at her—she wasn’t sure she wanted to look back at him.
Finally she did, and was instantly caught in the swirling blue storm of his eyes. That rawness was back—intense banked emotion, threatening to surge and spill. That electrical current spiked between them again.
‘Steffi Leigh…’ he murmured slowly, using her blogging name. ‘Do you really want to run away?’
THE QUESTION WASN’T all innocent, but Jack Wolfe couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
Or to apologise.
Not as he watched the emotions flicker in her big eyes. For a second she looked startled, but then fire flashed in those blue-green, draw-you-in depths. A sizzle sparked under his collar in response. He realised he was holding his breath—seriously? As if her answer mattered that much?
He blinked, trying to pull his wayward brain back to reality, but for a moment it seemed she actually was contemplating an escape with him. As if the two of them could run away together and steal time alone in the heat?
His body grew hotter. His skin tighter.
But then, as he watched, that polite veneer of hers descended. Back to frosted—frosty—perfection. Disappointment trickled, cooling his jets. He’d bet she was like one of those ornate overpriced cupcakes people queued for at fashionable boutiques. A tempting confection, smothered in layers of intricate icing, beautifully presented… but when it came to the tasting there was very little cake.
Jack liked cake. Icing…? Not so much.
‘Do you?’ Her voice was low, but there was the slightest of catches in it. An edge.
Was this how she was determined to play it? To be ‘nice’ and ‘accommodating’ and turn everything back to his wishes? Was she that eager to impress—to please? To secure this deal?
Would she say yes to anything he offered or asked?
For a moment he was tempted, so tempted, to ask for everything he shouldn’t.
Because, yes. He wanted to run away. And right now he wanted to run away with her.
Instead, he drew a steadying breath and answered. ‘Always.’
The spark in her eyes reignited. Defiance.
‘Because your life is so dreadful?’ she asked.
‘Everyone has their challenges,’ he answered coolly.
Another emotion, frostier than ever, entered her eyes. She thought he was spoilt. Inwardly he laughed at the irony. This was a woman who spent her life online, talking about new perfumes and places to party.