The Elliotts: Secret Affairs: The Forbidden Twin

“You would’ve done the same thing, switched the business, if you and Summer were still engaged?”

He hesitated no longer than a breath, and his gaze never wavered. “Yes.”

She wondered if he’d paused because he had to justify his answer to himself first.

“Wanna blow this joint?” he asked, surprising her.

“More than I can tell you. But impossible, as you know, at least together. I’d better go.” She started to turn.

“Scarlet?”

His husky voice would’ve stopped her, no matter what he said next. “What?”

“I was jealous of every guy you danced with tonight, every guy who touched you and got to be so close to you.”

Desire flooded her body … rushing … pounding … pulsating. His gaze drifted down her. Her nipples drew taut. She wasn’t used to having a man want her so passionately, so … violently. It fascinated her, both that he wanted her that much and that she liked his Neanderthal reaction. She’d never tolerated jealousy before, but the flare of heat low in her body told her his jealousy meant something.

“You don’t think I felt the same?” she asked. “I have to go.” She wouldn’t risk staying any longer with him, having someone see their attraction instead of just acquaintances having a conversation, or whatever defined the parameters of their relationship now in the public eye.

He said nothing. He was good at that.

She didn’t see him return to the dance, and was torn between gratitude and disappointment as Mitch again invited her to dance. She saw her grandparents come onto the floor, as well, as Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade” played, Gram’s favorite.

A few seconds later, John tapped Mitch’s shoulder. Mitch looked at Scarlet. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s fine.” Her heart thundered as John’s arms came around her. Several inches of space separated their bodies.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, pasting on a smile.

“Passing another Woo U course.”

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“Then you don’t know me.”

She didn’t. She loved him, but she didn’t know him. Not really. But everything she learned about him only deepened her feelings.

“Scarlet, there’s no reason we can’t be civilized in the world’s eyes. So, there’ll be a little talk. It’d mostly be about me and that I must still be pining for Summer.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

It was one of the most awkward moments of her life. She glanced at her grandparents. Gram lifted her brows. Granddad kept a carefully blank expression.

And yet through all the awkwardness, all the awareness of eyes focused on them, all the annoyance at being the center of attention when she’d tried so hard to stop doing that, she loved that he’d done it. Loved that he was that self-confident and daring. She never would’ve guessed it of him.

At the end of the dance the club manager approached Scarlet. “You have a phone call, Miss Elliott.”

“From whom?”

“I wouldn’t know. If you’ll follow me, please.”

She excused herself from John, grateful that the potentially awkward moment of moving off the dance floor and away from each other had been solved by a mysterious phone call.

She and the manager went down a long hallway to a door marked Conference Room. He opened the door then walked away. Scarlet peered in. A phone sat on the conference table but no light blinked. Uneasy, she took a step back.

“Careful,” came a whisper in her ear. John. He moved her inside the room, shut the door and locked it, the sound echoing like a prelude to gothic seduction.

He slid a hand along the wall beside her, then the lights went out, plunging them into darkness. Music drifted faintly through the closed door.

“You dance like you make love,” he said, dragging a finger along her jaw, across her mouth.

“How’s that?” Breathless, she parted her lips.

“Primal. Like a creature of the earth. With passion and abandon.” He slipped his arms around her waist. “Dance with me. A real dance.”

“Dance” was a relative term. They barely moved. It was just an excuse to align their bodies, and since in her heels she was as tall as he, their bodies aligned perfectly.

“You’re quiet,” Scarlet murmured after a while.

“Some of us are capable of it.”

She nipped his earlobe, and he laughed softly. She’d needed this moment alone with him. Needed to touch him. The music stopped, but they kept moving, pressed together, their clothing the only barrier, and even that wasn’t much. He curved his hands over her rear and lifted her slightly, changing the point of contact. Perfume and aftershave mingled with the urgent scent of desire. His need was evident in the tautness of his body and the hard ridge pressed to her abdomen. His breath felt hot and unsteady against her temple.

Scarlet tried to resist. She couldn’t abandon herself to him, all too aware of where they were and the possibility of discovery. She wouldn’t do that to her grandparents or Summer. Or herself.

But she had a hard time not letting go, giving in, enjoying ….

His hand slipped over her breast just as his mouth took hers in a long, hot kiss, a merging of breath and need and unchecked lust. They were always in such a hurry with each other.

He moved her back until her thighs hit the table. She realized what he intended and pushed at his chest.

“We can’t do this here.”

He trailed her low V neckline with his tongue, leaving a damp, shivery trail. “I’m familiar with the long list of rules this club has,” he said. “Nowhere does it say there can’t be sex in the conference room. In fact, I would hazard a guess that this room has seen plenty of action.”

“Stop.” She slipped away from him and found her way to the door, then fumbled for the light switch, turning it on. “I mean it. We can’t do this here.” She blamed herself for letting things get out of hand. The speed at which they’d landed in bed before this—twice—would have led any man to think he could have what he wanted, whenever he wanted it.

He shoved his hands through his hair. “You’re hard to figure out,” he said, then blew out a breath.

“I know. I’m sorry.” But I love you, and that’s why I took those chances the other times. I needed a memory of you.

“You don’t really live up to your reputation, do you?” he said, half sitting on the table, his arms crossed.

“Do you want me to?”

After a few long seconds he shook his head.