Sweet Seduction Surrender (5 page)

"By flashing my legs and breasts?" I offered, incredulously.

"Well, do you?"

"No!"

"Really? Be honest. Look at what you're wearing."

I glanced down at my ensemble. A deep red blouse and slim-line cream skirt. My heart plummeted. The blouse was fitted, the neckline not exactly slutty, but low enough to show off my meagre assets to their best advantage. The skirt was above knee, and sitting here it had risen further, to mid thigh. I was also wearing heels, that I knew made my calf muscles look damn good from behind.

I wasn't even seeing a client today. I'd done this because Jason Cain was in my house. It was armour, my armour. With dawning mortification I realised he was right. I did dress for the battlefield, albeit a battlefield of potential contracts and button pushing ex-soldiers. It might not have been a fight to the death, but it was a fight.

At the moment I was fighting to throw Jason off balance, and therefore survive the next few hours in his presence without losing my head. Or heart.

Jason leaned back in his chair and let his eyes flow over my outfit. They rested on my legs for an extended period of time. Without raising them to my face, he said, "There's nothing wrong with using what you've been given to get what you want."

Chocolate eyes flicked up to mine.

"You just gotta be sure you really want it," he added.

I was losing this round, and the Anscombe in me was disappointed and irritated that I'd let Jason have any ground at all.

No, my life wasn't cut-throat, but with Jason in it, it was definitely a battle to be won. I held his gaze for several seconds, unwilling to back down, and then swiped my plate up off the table and headed to the sink. My back to the table and Jason, I leaned down and emptied what was left on my plate into the rubbish bin.

Jason started laughing behind me. I swung back and arched a brow, the emptied plate still in my hand.

"This is a bad idea," he muttered, shaking his head.

"What is?" I demanded, not liking the way he was looking at me. I couldn't decide if it was appreciative or not.

"You don't even know you're doing it, do you?" he murmured.

"Doing what?" I asked, placing the plate on the bench so I could give him my full attention. When I turned back around he was standing right there. I hadn't heard him move, not the scrape of his chair or the sound of his rubber soled shoes on the wooden floor.

I pressed my back into the bench, unable to retreat further. Then cursed myself mentally for trying to back up at all. I straightened my shoulders and raised my chin. Receiving that smirk of his for my efforts.

"Life is what we make of it, Kate," he whispered, his eyes searching my face as though looking for something there.

"Very Zen of you, Jason."

He shrugged, then took a step back and it felt like all the warmth in my body had left with him. This physical attraction was getting too intense. It was ruling my every thought now.

I struggled to think of something to level the playing field with, to distance myself from what his proximity did to my pulse. But I was rattled, no witty words sprang to mind. There was much more to Jason than I had realised. Oh, I'd suspected, but never truly seen. He was observant, calculating, intelligent and two steps ahead of me. Nothing he'd said this morning didn't ring true. Rather than deter me, it made him even more fascinating to my eyes.

I was in so deep and I didn't know how I'd actually got there. But the real question? Was Jason in deep with me too?

"And what do you do to close a deal, Jason?" I asked, my eyes flicking over his face to see his reaction to my words.

He smiled, it wasn't a smirk. It was impressed, I think. He knew I'd been floundering, and he was surprised and pleased that I'd found my voice at last.

"Whatever I have to do, Kate," he replied. "Whatever it takes." I could believe that.

"Then maybe we're more alike than you realise," I pointed out, pushing past him to gather his plate from the table. He watched my every move.

"Maybe," he agreed, voice soft. My eyes automatically drawn to his. The tone of his voice sounding so intimate. I wondered briefly what that tone would sound like when whispered in my ear. "Or maybe opposites attract," he added, making all thoughts of whispered words of nothing in my ear vanish.

What the hell did that mean? Was he just admitting outright that he was attracted to me?

I think my mouth might have been hanging open slightly as I watched him walk toward the doorway into the lounge. He turned and looked over his shoulder at me, lips twitching at my shocked stance.

"Just one more thing, Kate," he said, breaking into my mental stall. "By the time this lock-down is lifted, I
will
have earned one of your kisses."

Oh, good Lord. I sucked in a breath of air, realised it was the first I'd inhaled for several seconds and forced myself to say, "In your dreams, Cain." The only thing that came to mind.

His smirk spread into a full blown smile.

"Oh, don't worry about my dreams, Kate. Worry more about
yours
."

My heart fell, but thankfully he was no longer looking at me to see my reaction, having turned already to walk out of the room.

Did he know what it was I dreamt about? Could he tell from just looking at me? Jason Cain had a front row seat to my dreams, but only in my mind, because I placed him there. There was no way in hell the real Jason could be aware I dreamt of him. Even observant, calculating, intelligent ex-soldiers, who were two steps ahead of me, couldn't read minds.

Could they?

My turn to deal with the dishes, while Jason touched base with Eric at ASI. The lock-down was still in effect, with no end in sight as yet. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Having Jason in my home, in my presence, for more than just a few minutes was taxing. Exhilarating, but exhausting at the same time. I felt like I had to maintain my mental and emotional guard. Which was ironic, considering he was my physical guard right now.

I had no idea how to fill in the hours that stretched out before us today. The only answer was to throw myself into work. I switched my laptop on and checked my emails first. There'd been a read-receipt from Mr and Mrs Montgomery-Smith, but no return email. I stared at the receipt message on the screen for several moments, then plucked up the courage to do what needed to be done to close the sale. Determinedly ignoring thoughts of Jason's lesson about cut-throat worlds and closing deals.

I dialled Mrs Montgomery-Smith's cellphone. She was definitely the one who wore the pants in the relationship, my being hired to redecorate their house would be on her say-so and no one else's.

"Katie," she purred down the line when the call connected. "I am so pleased you called."

Well, that was a turn up for the books. The last time I spoke to her over the phone she told me in no uncertain terms that her time was precious and not to waste it.

"Good morning, Mrs Montgomery-Smith," I chirped, Anscombe Interiors persona in full swing. "I trust you are having a pleasant start to your day?" I said with bubbly enthusiasm. For some reason my clients responded to that.

"Fantastic!" she exclaimed, sounding more like a fervent teenager than a thirty something year old woman. "I love your design. Did you have help with it?"

I gritted my teeth. Jason Cain muse-type help or not, I did not appreciate my work being questioned.

"No, Mrs Montgomery-Smith, the design is 100% Anscombe Interiors."

"Yes, yes. But have you hired someone new? This is so different from your website portfolio."

Ah. I guess she had a point. I cursed my initial reaction, knowing my imbalanced response to anything Jason Cain related could very well lose me this sale.

"You know fashion, Mrs Montgomery-Smith," I said in an appeasing tone. "One must stay abreast of it, or fall behind the crowd. You led me to believe you were a trendsetter, I took that on board and created something that would surely impress the most discerning of your peers."

Never count yourself among their kind, even if you had been since birth. To Morgan Montgomery-Smith I was a designer first, and a socialite second - if at all. Just because my name was well known in the circles she ran in, due to my father and his father's social position in this city, did not mean, in this circumstance, I could draw on that claim to fame. Not that I would anyway. My father raised me better than that.

"Well, you have surprised us, Katie," Mrs Montgomery-Smith said in that forced purr. "Malcolm even showed your design to one of his friends."

I perked up at the mention of Mr Montgomery-Smith regaling his colleagues with my design. If they were anything like the Montgomery-Smiths, then they would be forced to redecorate their house in order to keep up with the Joneses - or Montgomery-Smiths as the case may be. Word of mouth was a powerful business leveller.

"Be sure to thank Mr Montgomery-Smith for me," I murmured, with the appropriate level of modesty.

"Indeed. His friend was very impressed and is eager to see your final work. In fact, I told him you would have the sitting room finished in no time, and we would throw a small dinner party in order for him to get a feel for the room and your work. I think you should be paying me a commission, Katie," she chuckled, as if her compliment wasn't at all forced. "So, when can I book the caterers?"

I stifled my own responding, but no doubt slightly sarcastic, chuckle. She was like a steam roller once she got going.

"Once the contract is signed it should take no longer than a fortnight to complete," I said, flicking through the hard-copy of the proposal I had sent her, to ensure I had my time-line correct.

The Montgomery-Smith's sitting room was almost large enough to host a ball. It wasn't a job I could do on the fly in a couple of days. And the type of materials I'd used were exclusive, but thankfully I had exemplary artists at my disposal who I knew worked swiftly, and all of the furnishings I had selected were from hours and hours of previous sourcing. I kept a large private portfolio of fabric samples and the like, to call on at times like this. In addition, the Montgomery-Smiths didn't require new furniture, only decorations and fittings. So, two weeks was an acceptably short time-frame.

"Oh, that long?" She sounded disappointed.

"You want the very best, don't you, Mrs Montgomery-Smith?" I pushed gently.

"Of course. Only the best. I'll sign the contract you emailed and have it delivered later today. Should I expect you at our house this afternoon?"

I flicked a glance over my shoulder to find Jason unexpectedly leaning casually against the door frame. I blinked in surprise. I'd been thinking of him, wondering how long the lock-down was going to continue for, but I certainly hadn't anticipated seeing him in my office, watching me. How long had he been standing there?

He raised his eyebrows at me and cocked his head, but otherwise didn't make a move to leave.

"I'm currently obligated to another project, Mrs Montgomery-Smith," I advised, forcing myself back on task and thinking the excuse up off the cuff. "I expect that to be completed by the end of the week, however," I added. "Shall we say Monday as a start date?"

"Oh, all right. If it has to be Monday then what else can I say?"

"It will make for a clean start," I offered. "And a chance for you to think up any extras you wish to include by then." I don't often encourage my clients to create more work for me, but this woman needed a distraction. Thankfully she took the bait.

"Oh lovely. You are so accommodating, Katie." Yes, that's me. "I'll let Malcolm know and I'll expect you at nine on Monday morning."

"Excellent," I replied, just as the phone clicked indicating the call had been disconnected her end.

I looked at the handset and then shrugged, placing it back in its cradle on my desk.

"The new job?" Jason asked. I nodded, typing in a few notes on the Montgomery-Smith's file, turning the flag from blue - a quote and proposal in progress - to orange - a verbal agreement to a contract reached. It was only when I had the signed contract in my hand that the file would go red.

It would be the only red file I currently have. I worked hard, but I was not always busy.

"And you didn't even have to break a nail to achieve it," Jason added.

I saved my work and turned slowly in my chair to glare at him.

"Can't find anything to amuse yourself with, Jason?" I asked a little pointedly.

"Oh, I'm sure I could think of something," he murmured. "And seeing as your hard day's work is done, how about we start with your knives."

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"Come on, ninja warrior princess. Show me your blades. You've got to have more than that one in your drawer."

My eyes darted to the drawer in question. How had he known the knife was there? My fingers itched to check it was still in its resting place, undisturbed by my unwanted guest. Then it occurred to me, he would have searched my house after I went to bed. Logic told me it was so he knew where possible weapons were should he need them - or should they be used against him. But my sense of privacy baulked at that explanation.

"Didn't find my stash when you snooped?" I pressed.

"I'm guessing they're in your bedroom," he replied casually, not denying the fact he'd snooped at all. "Couldn't search in there without you thinking I was making a move."

"Didn't stop you from making a move at dinner," I snapped.

"Kate," he said on a bark of laughter. "You have no idea how I make my moves."

"And I have no desire for you to regale me."

"Oh?" he breathed, and in less time than it took for me to gasp, he was standing before me, leaning over my body where I sat in my desk chair. "Are you sure about that?"

I held his gaze, refusing to show how much his proximity meant to me, what it did to me. How my skin tingled and my heart rate escalated. And suddenly oxygen seemed way too sparse in this tiny room.

"I don't need you to regale me, Jason," I breathed, my voice sounding husky and deep. Damn! "I can guess. It would involve a gauche pick-up line and some sleazy smooth moves."

His lips spread into an amused smile. "Smooth moves. Is that what you think I do, Kate?"

"I have no idea what you do, Jason. I don't pay attention."

He laughed outright at that. "Oh, Kate. You are a hopeless liar." He shook his head, still smiling. "But I'll put you out of your misery." Please don't. I frowned at him instead of voicing that. "I'm a straight up guy."

He didn't say anything else. My frown deepened with obvious confusion.

"I just ask," he explained.

"Ask?" I replied, not getting it.

"Yeah," he nodded. "If you know what you want, then you should just get on with asking for it.
I ask.
"

That didn't make any sense at all. But rather than show my confusion further, I said, "And that works for you?"

"Sure it does. Want an example?"

I blinked up at him. He hadn't moved an inch away.

"Er, OK? Why not?" I said with as much nonchalance as I could manage. I was anything but calm right then.

He moved closer, so close I could feel his hot breath across my cheeks. So close I knew if I leaned forward a mere inch my lips would touch his. So close I could see the striations of sienna and umber in his eyes; little flecks that seemed to dance in the light of the room.

"Kiss me, Kate."

"That's not a question," I whispered.

"Isn't it?"

"No, it's an instruction," I managed to croak.

"Oh, then I guess I'm more of a take what I want kind of guy," he pointed out, just as his mouth moved the necessary distance to reach mine.

I pulled back before we could connect.

"I wouldn't kiss you if you were the last man on earth," I said through numb lips. How had we gotten here so quickly? From minutes ago at breakfast to this.

I was beginning to think, that when Jason Cain made his mind up, nothing could hold him back. He'd decided something over our morning meal. He'd decided he wanted that kiss.

He smiled. It was clearly amused... again. Jason could do amused grins with such casual ease.

"I told you already, Kate. You're a hopeless liar."

"I am not," I said with as much conviction as I could muster, pushing my chair away from his looming form and slipping out from under him. I strode across the office and shuffled some files distractedly, all the while aware of his attention on my back.

By the time several minutes passed and he hadn't said a further word, I was starting to feel like an idiot. I sucked up whatever courage I had left in me and turned back to face Jason. He was leaning against my desk, smile in full force on his stubbled cheeks.

Captivating. One look, and nothing else existed in that room but him.

"You done escaping life, Kate?" he asked, voice deep and for some reason mesmerizing. "Or do you want to taste it?"

Oh my Lord.

"You can't be serious?" I whispered.

"Deadly," he replied. Quite an appropriate term for a man like him.

I sucked in a fortifying breath. "I'm still not going to kiss you," I announced. My desperation to remain on an even footing with this man making a
complete
fool of me.

He could tell.

I took an embarrassing step backwards towards the door. In imitation of the gazelle caught in the lion's sights on the wildlife programme last night.

His smile turned rapacious.

He licked his lips slowly, pushed off from the desk and took one large legged stride across the small space of my office to come chest to chest with me.

Why had I not even attempted to retreat further?

I knew why.

And so did Jason.

Every interaction we'd shared since meeting flashed through my mind, followed by every conversation we'd had since the lock-down began. We'd been fighting this, we'd been battling the attraction. It hadn't been cut-throat, but it had been a combat of sorts. For Jason, his reasons to fight that attraction were mixed up in what made him... him. For me, it was more simple. I was a spectator not a participant.

For one brief, clarifying moment I knew this was the point of no return.

Spectator or participant?

He paused, giving me one last chance to run. But when I showed no sign of withdrawing, in a smooth glide of muscles and limbs, he hauled me hard against his chest.

Big. Solid. Hot. I was already lost.

The first touch of his lips against mine felt divine.
Literally god-sent.
My body trembled, my hands automatically reached up to wrap fingers in his still too short hair and around the nape of his neck, and then his tongue swept the inside of my mouth.