‘You think you can just swoop in and take what you want?’ she added, despite the blush mottling not just her face but her neck too. ‘No matter who it belongs to?’
Wasn’t she a deliciously pointy creature when she let herself out?
‘I’ll always take what I want from someone who’s willing to offer it to me,’ he assured her.
He watched her warring with whether to speak again or not. He couldn’t move, desperate for her to say it.
‘I’m not offering anything,’ she finally claimed.
‘Not even one little bite of pudding?’ he drawled. ‘Damned if I’m going to spend the week living like I’ve been shipwrecked.’
She shouldn’t settle for that either.
‘You can’t cope with a constraint on your appetite even for a little while?’ she asked.
The little punch pleased him an inordinate amount.
‘I don’t like to be denied decent sustenance,’ he answered lazily. ‘I like delicious. It doesn’t have to be a lot, but it does have to be quality.’
‘A man like you will always want more than a morsel of perfection,’ she said quietly. ‘You wouldn’t stop at one of those puddings, you’d want all of them.’
A morsel of perfection? He leaned against the bench and laughed. ‘You think I have a voracious appetite?’
She slowly nodded, her baleful, brilliant gaze locked on him. ‘Absolutely.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong, my sweet,’ he said lightly and then shot straight to the crux of the matter. ‘I only ever have one bite. One night with a woman.’
She blinked. ‘Only one night? Wow,’ she muttered in that husky voice. ‘That’s too mean of you. Are you afraid she’ll get bored if you let her stick around for longer?’
Ash regarded her steadily, masking the adrenalin and anticipation burgeoning inside. Merle Jordan had gone from a mortified, tongue-tied bundle of embarrassment, to a worthy opponent displaying claws and wit and he wanted to see so much more of it from her. ‘I’m not afraid,’ he countered softly. ‘I’m merely protecting her from the inevitable heartbreak.’
‘Oh, so it’s chivalry,’ she mock-marvelled, even as she dropped her gaze from his. ‘How heroic of you to save her from yourself.’
‘Quite,’ he purred. She was an absolute, intriguing challenge. ‘Now, Ms Jordan.’ He held up one of the single-serve puddings. ‘Are we going to label and lock away what’s mine and label and lock away what’s yours, or are we going to pool resources and share?’
At that, she gazed back up at him, despite her blushing breathiness. He could see the tremble in her fingers she was trying to hide and he respected the effort it took for her to hold his gaze. He willed her to say whatever pithy thing she was thinking. Because she was definitely thinking and he ached to know what about.
‘Exactly what resources are you planning to bring to this party?’ she finally asked.
Suddenly he had plans. Lots of very good, very pleasurable plans.
He’d thought he wanted to be alone to face this final goodbye and dispose of his mother’s things. But perhaps, while he was here, alone was the one thing he shouldn’t be. This disapproving woman might be the perfect antidote to take his mind off the mess of emotion this place conjured within. He badly needed distraction from the task he’d been dreading for almost a decade and here she was in bountiful, curvaceous perfection. Maybe he could tempt her out of her prickly shell? He could disarm her stand-offishness, break down her reserve...
If he got her to deign to talk to him? If he got her to laugh, that would be a bonus point for sure. And if she dined with him that would be a total win. He relished each possible challenge in a game he suddenly ached to play.
‘Haven’t you figured it out yet, Merle?’ he teased, assuming full arrogance and amusement. ‘I’ll bring everything you could ever want.’
CHAPTER THREE
FIRST THING IN the morning, Merle had shut herself in the study with one of the many boxes from the stacks in the multi-car garage. While she wasn’t contracted to work weekends, given the circumstances it seemed a good way of staying out of sight and out of trouble. The enormous wooden table in the cavernous room was perfect for sorting the mountain of papers and the work would occupy her completely for weeks.
Unfortunately, the floor-to-ceiling windows spanning the length of the study overlooked not just the gorgeous sea, but also the stunning infinity pool. And Ash Castle had been making the most of that pool for hours.
Last night he’d said he was here to work, but to Merle it didn’t look as if he was doing anything other than hard-core exercising. He swam length after length. Every so often he emerged to perform push-ups and burpees on the beautifully landscaped deck. Given he was clad in nothing but black swim shorts, it was hard not to notice his lean, muscled strength. But it was his single-minded focus that fascinated her more. Intensely driven, he pushed himself like a man possessed.
Merle couldn’t stop herself watching, equally impressed and aghast as he brought weights out from the gym and lined up the kettle bells into some sort of terrifying poolside circuit. He seemed determined to exhaust himself—which took a lot of effort because apparently the man was ultra-marathon-fit. Maybe the work he meant was some kind of one-week extreme make-over? Was he was going to be modelling or something? Or did he have some super-hot date next weekend that he wanted to be in peak shape for?
Merle couldn’t think of anything worse.
Worse than that, she couldn’t think of anything else. Ash Castle infuriatingly appeared in every thought—her sly mind kept replaying that mortifying moment when he’d walked in on her in his bath. And she kept seeing the wicked laughter in his eyes, the outrageousness in his tone...but the glimpse of tiredness and the fleeting depth of discomfort intrigued her even more. She suspected the man was more complicated than his superficial perfection presented. To make matters even worse she’d actually dreamt about him.
I’m hungry, Merle.
His frank admission had meant something else and her suddenly unreliable body had responded so inappropriately.
Everything you’d ever want.
She knew he meant sexually. And, as inexperienced as she was, she knew he wasn’t. He’d deliver.
Annoyed with her basic instinct fixation, Merle pulled more papers from the box, determined to regain her customary indifference to men and the thought of sex in general. Men and Merle didn’t mix. Ever. Actually, people and Merle rarely mixed. It wasn’t surprising; she’d had an unusual childhood—hiding in the wings of her mother’s shows, then suppressed by her strict disciplinarian grandmother who’d never really wanted her, then isolated at school, where her only escape had been hours at second-hand stalls with her quiet grandfather. She’d become even more isolated while caring for him. But now things were going to change and as soon as she’d got herself on a firm financial footing she’d feel braver about moving forward. Getting this job done would help immeasurably. Squaring her shoulders, she focused on the boxes. Ash Castle was a distraction she couldn’t afford.