A Reluctant Mistress

‘Rain won’t melt me,’ Natalia said, hiding her defensiveness with unemphatic words and a flat tone.

‘So you’re a tough, hard woman.’ The drawled comment was meant to be sarcastic, and succeeded. ‘Why are you so prickly, Natalia?’

‘I have no idea what you mean,’ she said, each word so clearly articulated it could have sliced through ice. As the car drew up outside the ramshackle shed that was both garage and packhouse, she unclipped her seat belt.

His eyes narrowed and his mouth tilted into a mirthless smile, his keen gaze lingering on her hot cheeks. A feverish shiver pulled her skin tight.

‘Your eyes fire up brilliantly when you’re angry,’ he said, the words smooth and taunting.

‘Whereas you become offensive.’ She should be intimidated but she wasn’t; adrenaline pumped through her in a singing, exhilarating flood.

‘What makes you think I’m angry? This offensiveness could be my normal attitude.’

‘I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt,’ she retorted sweetly.

Swift as a striking bird of prey, Clay caught her tense hand and kissed the palm. Lean, tanned fingers tightened around her wrist; Natalia felt their controlled power like a fetter. Then he released her.

As she snatched back her hand Natalia thought she could feel the sensuous touch of his lips still burning on her skin.

‘Don’t dare me,’ he said evenly, his eyes dwelling on the soft curves of her breasts for a heart-stopping second before lifting to trap her gaze. Heat lit the tawny depths to gold, yet she couldn’t see emotion there, nothing but an intense, primal hunger.