Falling For The Enemy

She found Bryce stretched out in one of the recliners, his fingers laced together and his hands resting casually across his stomach. He was asleep. He seemed totally and completely at ease. Absolutely no tension showed on his face. She watched him for a moment. She scowled as a twinge of disgust jabbed at her. It was evident that he did not allow his ruthless business tactics to disturb his peace of mind.

As Paige continued to watch him, he began to stir. Suddenly he bolted upright in the chair, instantly wide awake.

“Bradford!” He stared at her for a long moment wondering what had been going through her mind to cause the strange expression on her face. He immediately assumed command of the situation. “Well—” he rose from the chair and stretched his arms above his head “—I see you’re finally awake. Maybe now you’ll have time to finish going over those files. You seem to have fallen asleep in the middle of number three.” With that, he turned and went to the galley to fix some coffee.

“Finally awake?” Her hackles stood on end as she glared at him. She could not prevent the animosity from creeping into her voice. “Just what do you mean by that? You can’t expect people to work twenty-four hours a day.”

Either he didn’t hear her or was purposely ignoring her questions. Either way, perhaps it was just as well. She needed to watch her step. She knew she was in a position to be able to uncover the type of information she needed. She didn’t want to do anything to cause him to fire her from this job. Yes, caution was definitely in order regardless of his having just exhibited yet another example of his abrupt behavior.

She backed off for a moment as she watched him. She silently acknowledged that he was fixing the coffee himself rather than expecting her to do it. She tightened her jaw again. That was the only thing she would admit. She retrieved files three and four from the table then sat down on the couch to continue where she had left off before falling asleep.

“Here, Bradford.” Bryce set a cup of coffee next to her. “Hurry up and finish with those files. We’re landing in an hour.” With that, he took his coffee and went into the back cabin.

Paige continued reading the files, closing file number four half an hour later just as he opened the door and came back into the main cabin clean shaven and wearing fresh clothes. She did not entirely understand all the ramifications of his proposal for profits and how they would be allocated, but the amount of notes, including his hand-written notations, indicated to her that the London art gallery was his pet project. She recalled Bryce’s degree in fine art, which would account for his interest.

“Any questions, Bradford?”

“None that I can think of right now.”

He flashed a quick smile that said he knew better. “There will be.” He dismissed the subject as he reached for the coffeepot to refill his cup. He held up the pot in her direction, cocked his head and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Bradford?”

She held up her cup. “Yes, thank you.”

It annoyed her, the way he looked as rested as if he had just had eight hours’ sleep in a comfortable bed rather than a few hours in a chair. She entertained a brief question as to why he had allowed her to have the bed. She did not remember walking, so he must have carried her into the cabin. It had been a very considerate gesture on his part. She quickly reined in her thoughts. It would take more than one moment of consideration to alter her opinion of him and what he represented.

She wondered what other unexpected thoughts would force themselves upon her as a result of her in-person association with this man—this dynamic and impressive man. In the secret recesses of her mind she began to wonder if she had gotten in way over her head.

“Buckle your seat belt, Bradford. We’re approaching the airport.”

The jet touched down for a perfect landing. Bryce gathered the files Paige had been reading plus the papers he had been working on and shoved them into a briefcase, then thrust it into her hands.

“You take this, Bradford. I’ll get the suitcases.”

They exited the plane, cleared customs, then went immediately to the taxi that whisked them into London. Forty-five minutes later he unlocked the front door of an attractive flat in the fashionable Knightsbridge section. After depositing the suitcases on the living-room floor he launched into a quick tour. It was a much larger place than it appeared from the outside.

There were three bedrooms, a large living room, a dining room, kitchen and two bathrooms. “The front bedroom is the largest and is used as an office.” He indicated the door, then headed down the hall.

She stuck her head through the opened door to give a quick look, then hurried to catch up with Bryce who was already at the next room.

“This is my bedroom, and that—” he pointed to the next room down the hall “—is the guest bedroom.”

Paige really had not formulated any definite thoughts about sleeping arrangements. Even though Eileen said she would be staying at the corporate flat, it had not occurred to her that they would be sleeping this close to each other. She felt the scowl spread across her face, but was unable to stop it before it caught his attention.

“You look angry. Is there a problem of some sort?”

Paige swallowed the words she wanted to say, instead making an inadequate attempt at covering up. “Uh…no, of course not.” She was in a precarious situation. She didn’t trust him, but it was not an uneasiness over her physical safety. What she didn’t trust was the concerned good guy persona he tried to project. But she didn’t dare let on…not if she wanted to stay on his good side so she could find the proof she needed.

Bryce’s brisk manner gave no indication of his thoughts. “If there’s no problem, then let’s get to work. As soon as you unpack, I want you to transcribe all the material I dictated on the plane. I’ve left the tape next to the computer. I’m sure you’ll find everything you need in the office.” He disappeared inside his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Paige picked up her suitcase and took it into the guest room as she considered what had just happened. It had been a bad slip to let Bryce see her displeasure. She could not afford for her inner feelings and ulterior motives to seep through. She had to continue to appear as simply another one of his employees. She couldn’t risk antagonizing him, at least not until she had what she wanted.

The problem was…well…he had her confused. She knew exactly who and what he was, but he refused to fit into the mold she had created for him in her mind. Yes, indeed—Bryce Lexington had her very confused. And not the least of it was her undeniable attraction to him, an attraction she needed to squash before it caused her real problems. She toyed with the notion that some of her antagonism toward him just might be a defensive mechanism directly related to that attraction.

After unpacking, she went down the hall to the office where she found the tape next to the computer. She listened to the first three letters without transcribing anything, then stopped the tape. He was truly amazing. He dictated as if he were actually reading something—no pauses to think, no changing his mind. She rewound the tape and started from the beginning.

She had barely finished the letters when the phone rang. When it rang a second time without Bryce making an appearance from his bedroom, she quickly grabbed it before it could ring a third time.

“Hello…yes, and who…uh, please hold a moment.”

She knocked softly at his bedroom door, her senses still numbed by the identity of the caller—the French ambassador himself, in person rather than his secretary. When she received no response to her knock, she called out to him. “Mr. Lexington…uh, Bryce?”

His voice came from behind the closed door. “Don’t stand out in the hall, Bradford. Come on in.”

She cautiously opened his bedroom door, not at all sure what she would find. He was turning out to be one surprise after another. Bryce sat on an exercise cycle, pedaling away while reading a book.

“A phone call for you. It’s the French ambassador.”

He wore only a pair of jogging shorts. His entire body, from his broad shoulders down to the bottom of his long legs, was taut and muscular without being muscle-bound and every bit of exposed skin was as tanned as his face. He obviously spent a great deal of time in the sun.

Paige experienced the same jolt of sensual desire as when they’d first met. Not only was he the most incredibly handsome man she had ever seen, he was an ideal specimen of the perfect male physique. A wave of heated desire swept through her body making it feel as if the temperature in the room had jumped at least twenty degrees. She quickly brought her gaze back to Bryce’s face for fear that she might be tempted to mentally remove his jogging shorts.

His expression brightened at the mention of the phone call. He put down his book, then climbed off the exercise cycle. He grabbed a towel and wiped the glistening sheen of perspiration from his face and neck. Without a word to Paige, he picked up the phone extension in his bedroom. A dazzling smile spread across his face. “Andre, mon ami.” His entire conversation was in French.

Paige spoke some French, enough to get by, but certainly nothing compared to what she heard coming from Bryce. He spoke rapidly, too rapidly for her to catch all of what he was saying. There was something about having just arrived a few hours ago and an agreement to be somewhere the following evening, then he hung up.

“I hope you brought something formal, Bradford. We’re going to a reception at the French embassy tomorrow night.”

She stared at him, her eyes wide in amazement. “We’re what?”

“You’ve got to learn to pay closer attention.”

“I heard what you said, I just don’t believe what I’m hearing. It never occurred to me to pack anything that formal.” She made no attempt to hide her irritation, but did try to curb her anger. “You didn’t mention anything about me needing something for this kind of event. In fact, you gave no hint of any kind as to what I—”

“You’re right. My fault.”

“You barely gave me time to pack—” She stopped in midsentence as the full realization of what he said finally hit her. “What?”

He spoke quietly, his words surrounded by a soft sincerity. “I said you were right. It was my fault. I should have been more specific with my instructions.”

Had she heard him correctly? He had readily accepted blame and was that a conciliatory note of apology in his voice? That was most certainly out of character for him, or at least her preconceived notion of who and what he was. What type of underhanded maneuver was he trying to perpetrate? That was the second time he had done something completely out of character. Paige had him neatly categorized and did not like it when he did something contrary to that mold. Well, he still didn’t fool her. Two isolated incidents were hardly enough to change her opinion. Bryce was a ruthless business shark who could not be trusted.

“We’ll go shopping first thing in the morning to get you something appropriate. Now—” he changed topics without warning, indicating that the discussion about clothes was finished “—how are you coming with my dictation?”

She marveled at the speed with which he moved from one topic to another. Before she could get an answer out, she saw the look in his eyes shift from the current situation to something far removed. He slung the towel around his neck, grabbing the ends where they hung across his chest. He creased his forehead in concentration for a moment as he stared at her, or more accurately, he seemed to be staring through her to some unknown spot.

“Tell me, Bradford, do you know how to snow ski?”

“Dictation? Snow ski? Which question do you want answered first?” She tried to put some sense to the way his mind jumped from one thing to another, but it was quickly becoming a formidable task.