by Abby Green
In that moment Zach clawed back control with an effort and fresh anger rose as he interpreted the scene.
* * *
Ashling only sensed she wasn’t alone after she’d stepped into the bedroom and a crackling tension in the air skated over her skin. Her hands went still and she looked up to see Temple standing in the doorway, without his jacket, waistcoat and tie, the top buttons of his shirt open. But even the shock of seeing him standing there couldn’t diminish her first helpless reaction—pulsing awareness and a flash of fire in her belly.
‘I was wondering what was taking you so long,’ he said, with no discernible tone to his voice.
Except Ashling fancied she could hear a steel undertone.
The full impact of having been found like this hit her, and an awfully familiar wave of guilt and shame overwhelmed her. She was trespassing. She didn’t belong here. She saw the chaotic detritus from her bag strewn all over the pristine suite. Shoes on the floor near Temple’s feet.
She took down the towel from her head and said, ‘I’m so sorry. I saw the shower and I couldn’t help myself. The shower in our flat is broken and it’s been a long day and—’
‘You don’t need to explain. After all you did me a favour this evening, joining me at short notice.’
Ashling’s mouth shut. Temple had stepped into the room. The door was still open behind him. Her skin prickled with heat as his dark gaze rested on her. The air suddenly felt thick with a kind of tension Ashling had never experienced before. It coiled tight in her gut. Down low.
She was very aware of her naked body under the robe.
She opened her mouth again, tried to form something that sounded coherent. ‘I... It was the least I could do...for Cassie. I’m sorry I was late.’
Temple took another step into the room. He shrugged. ‘We got there in time. It was really no big deal.’
Gone was the stern Zachary Temple, and in his place right now was someone Ashling found far more disturbing. His gaze dropped momentarily. Ashling realised the robe was gaping open.
Embarrassment warmed her face as she pulled it together. ‘I should really get going. I’ve imposed enough.’
‘There’s no rush...is there?’
Ashling looked at Temple, wondering if she’d misheard him. Why did she feel as if every limb was weighted down and she couldn’t move? Didn’t want to...
All she could see was him. Those impossibly broad shoulders. His hard jaw, dark with stubble, like it had been four years ago. The sensation of how it had felt under her lips was still vivid.
Oh, God. Now was not the time for memories. Not when past and present were colliding in a way that was seriously disorientating.
Then he said, ‘You felt it between us, didn’t you? From the moment we met?’
Ashling’s mouth went dry. She’d been that obvious? ‘I...um...what do you mean?’ But her heart betrayed her, beating fast.
Temple’s mouth quirked into a little smile. ‘Do you really want me to spell it out?’
When had he moved so close that she could almost touch him? So close that she could smell his scent? Deep, and dark, and musky. Infinitely masculine.
And then mortification coursed through her when she realised that he hadn’t moved another inch towards her. She’d moved towards him without even realising. As if pulled by some invisible force.
Temple’s gaze dropped to her mouth and then down, before coming back up. ‘You’re a beautiful woman.’
Her eyes widened. She struggled to find her voice. ‘I’m nothing special.’
‘I disagree.’
This from the man who had once looked at her and said, ‘I would never touch a woman like you.’ That memory still scored away at her insides, even though she’d told herself that she was over it.
Temple repeated his words. ‘You feel it too, don’t you? This heat between us.’
Ashling was fast losing any sense of reality or desire to think coherently. Was Temple really saying he fancied her? Asking her to admit she fancied him too when it had to be laughably obvious?
Before she could articulate a word, he reached out and touched his fingers to her jaw. A touch so light she could barely feel it, and yet it burned like a brand. He traced the line of her jaw, his fingers under her chin, his thumb exploring her lower lip.
Ashling’s breath was coming fast. She was drowning in a sea of melting sensations, desperate for Temple to bring her closer. Her eyes were fixated on his mouth, wondering what it would feel like on hers... She didn’t recognise herself right now. She’d believed that she didn’t have much of a sex-drive.
But at that moment Temple took his hand away and stepped back, his face shuttering. A small sound of pleading came out of Ashling’s mouth. She barely noticed.
He said, ‘I’m sorry. I misread the signals. I thought you were attracted to me too.’
It was such a reversal to hear this man say he found her attractive that it took her a second to realise that he thought she didn’t fancy him. Ashling blurted out, ‘No—wait. I mean... I am attracted to you too...’
Temple stopped. ‘Are you sure?’
Ashling nodded and took a step closer, a boldness she’d never felt before giving her confidence. Confidence born out of this man admitting he wanted her.
She said, ‘Please... I don’t know...’
I don’t know what to do.
She couldn’t admit that she didn’t know what to do. How did one behave with a man like Temple? He was so tall. Broad. Intimidating. He must be used to worldly lovers, taking the lead, showing him exactly what they wanted.
‘Do you want me to kiss you?’
Relief mixed with excitement flooded Ashling’s body, making her tremble. She nodded. Temple stepped closer. He lifted a hand and cupped Ashling’s jaw again, his fingers caressing the back of her neck under her damp hair.
Gently, he tugged her closer, until their bodies were almost touching. He looked down at her. Tipped her chin up. Lowered his head. Ashling’s eyes fluttered closed as Temple’s mouth hovered for an infinitesimal moment before closing over hers.
Nothing she’d imagined or held in her memory since that night four years ago could have prepared her for this...this immediate rush of sensations. Melting heat at her core, blood rushing to her head, and an urgency to get even closer, have him kiss her harder.
She didn’t even realise her hands had tangled in his shirt, pulling him even closer. Her mouth moved under his, restless, seeking a deeper intimacy. And he obliged, coaxing her lips apart so that he could explore and deepen the kiss until Ashling was no longer conscious of anything but this exquisite moment in time.
With one hand at the back of her head, holding her so he could plunder her mouth, Temple drifted his other hand down along the front of the robe Ashling wore, his fingers teasing along the edge, close to her bare skin. Ashling’s breath quickened under his mouth, where he held her captive to his masterful onslaught.
He pushed the robe aside. Ashling could feel cool air skate over the bare skin of her breast. She pulled back from the kiss reluctantly, opening her eyes. Temple was out of focus. She was breathing heavily. He was cupping her breast now, his eyes on her there. A thumb stroked her nipple. She could feel it tighten into a hard bud of need. She almost whimpered.
He looked at her as he teased her flesh. ‘What is it? What do you want?’
Ashling bit her lip. Then she blurted out, ‘I want you to touch me...’
Put your mouth on me.
She didn’t have the nerve to say that. She was reeling from the fact that apparently she did like being made love to. That her previous experiences hadn’t defined her.
Temple’s fingers trapped her nipple. ‘Here? This is where you want me to touch you?’
She nodded.
He smiled and it was wicked. ‘You really want this?’
<
br /> Ashling nodded. Almost feverish with lust. Begging silently.
Then he said lazily, ‘I wondered how far you’d go...’
He was bending his head, his breath feathering close to her exposed skin, his mouth coming ever closer to her straining nipple... But something cut through the heat haze in Ashling’s brain. Words that she hadn’t really understood. A tone that made her uneasy.
She tensed. Pulled back.
Temple straightened up, his hands dislodged.
Instinctively she pulled the robe over her exposed breast. ‘What do you mean by that?’
CHAPTER THREE
TEMPLE FOLDED HIS arms across his chest. She noticed then that he barely had a hair out of place, when she felt hot and dishevelled.
He said, ‘You really don’t have to put on this act, Ashling. The game is up. I know exactly who you are. I recognised you as soon as I saw you—and for what it’s worth, the red wig was not a good look.’
Ice landed in Ashling’s gut, dousing the feverish lust. He’d known all evening. She’d suspected, but she’d convinced herself that he couldn’t possibly...
As if she had to hear him confirm it, she said faintly, ‘You knew?’
He nodded, grim. ‘Your face was etched into my memory after that night. I swore if I ever saw you again you’d pay for what you did.’
Ashling felt sick as the full magnitude of what had just happened sank in. He hadn’t been making love to her because he fancied her. He’d been toying with her, giving her enough rope to hang herself. And she’d been well on her way to doing just that.
Temple started to walk around her. ‘Based on previous experience, I might have expected you to be waiting in my bed, naked.’
The thought of being naked in his bed made a million conflicting things rise up inside her, chief of which was a betraying surge of excitement.
He was in front of her again. She said, ‘Of course I wouldn’t do something like that.’
Temple arched a brow. ‘Why not? When you’re halfway there with this little stunt?’
‘It wasn’t a stunt. I really did just want to have a shower. There wasn’t anything else going on.’
Until he walked into the room and told you he fancied you and you were all over him in seconds.
Ashling wanted the ground to open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole.
Temple made a dismissive sound. ‘Somehow, when you’ve already pretended to be my jilted lover, it’s not such a stretch to suspect you’d be willing to go even further,’ he said. ‘You cost me a lover that night, and a lucrative deal. Tell me...how much did it earn you?’
You cost me a lover. Ashling didn’t like how that impacted on her, deep inside. That woman had meant something to him...
She shook her head. ‘You don’t know how sorry I am about what I did. I was just following instructions. I didn’t even know your name. I was filling in for a friend. I never did anything like that again.’
Ashling’s conscience pricked. She could remember how his rejection of her had made her go off-script, because it had impacted her on a personal level, reminding her of her father’s rejection.
All she’d had to do was pretend to be his lover and then flounce out when he issued the expected denial. But she’d been caught—trapped by those dark eyes, his words of denial and rejection cutting far deeper than she’d expected.
She forced herself to ask, ‘Did your lover really leave you?’
Temple’s mouth was a hard line. ‘What did you expect? You put on a very convincing act of knowing me intimately. Not many women would put up with public humiliation. Do you know who put you up to it?’ he asked abruptly.
Ashling shook her head. ‘It was a casting agency—I knew the girl who was meant to do the job because we were in an amateur dramatics group together. She was sick that evening and asked me to do it in her place at the last minute. I don’t know who hired the agency.’
‘I do,’ Temple said tersely. ‘It was someone looking to undermine my reputation and derail a deal. But until now I thought you were a call girl.’
Ashling gasped in shock. ‘I am not a call girl.’
He was grim. ‘Could have fooled me.’
For the first time in her life Ashling felt a surge of anger so hot it almost blinded her for a moment.
‘Don’t even think about it...’ Temple warned.
Ashling realised her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. Shock at the very notion that she might commit violence made it drain away as quickly as it had surged.
No one had ever had this effect on her.
She felt acutely vulnerable as the memory of how he’d looked at her four years ago meshed painfully with the last few minutes. It had been a cruel lesson, designed to humiliate and punish her.
She pulled the edges of the robe together over her chest. ‘Look, I’m sorry about that night. It was irresponsible of me to step into a situation that I didn’t know much about. If it’s any consolation I felt terrible afterwards, and I gave the money they paid me to a homeless shelter.’
Temple wasn’t impressed. Or most likely didn’t believe her. ‘I couldn’t care less what you did with the money. I want to know what you thought you were going to get out of this situation.’
Ashling gasped as his very clear implication sank in. ‘You came in here. You kissed me.’
‘After making sure it was what you wanted. I wanted to see how far you would go.’
She would have gone all the way. That realisation scraped painfully along her still sensitised nerve-endings.
She said, ‘I did not come here this evening for any other reason than to do a favour for my friend.’
Temple looked stern. ‘How involved is Cassie in this?’
Dread gripped Ashling at the thought that her actions might have consequences for her friend. ‘She’s not. She knows nothing about what happened.’ She clarified. ‘I mean, I told her about that night at the time, because I felt so bad about it, and I knew it wasn’t right, but she never knew that you were the man involved. I didn’t even know until she showed me your picture in the paper.’
* * *
Zach looked at the woman in front of him. Cassie was one of his most trusted employees. Right now she was in the United States, scoping out a potential investment prospect for him. The thought that he’d entrusted her with so much information and the possibility existed that she was in league with this woman would be a betrayal of the worst kind.
As if reading his mind, Ashling Doyle said, ‘Please, Cassie doesn’t have any idea that we’ve met before. She knows nothing at all.’
She looked genuinely tortured. Face pale. It was conceivable that Cassie know the extent of her friend’s machinations. She was loyal. Or at least he’d always believed so. Maybe that loyalty had blinded her to her friend’s true nature.
Cassie would be back from the United States in two weeks. He would have to give her the benefit of the doubt for now, but he resolved to discuss it with her on her return. First he had to deal with this.
Much to his intense irritation, his blood was still running too hot for him to think clearly. He’d only intended to kiss Ashling Doyle, to see how she’d react, but as soon as he’d touched his mouth to hers he’d started to lose control of the situation.
The memory of the feel of her breast in his palm, firm and plump, was still vivid enough to entice him over the edge again. As was the memory of that kiss. Her soft mouth under his had been tremulous at first, and then growing bolder.
She said she wasn’t a call girl. Her faux naive ways told a different story. Gallingly, his attempt to prove how far she was willing to go had only proved to him that she still had a very unwelcome effect on him. That he wanted her.
Disgust at his own weakness made him feel exposed and angry. Too many revelations for one evening.
He m
oved back and said curtly, ‘Get dressed and get out of my house, Miss Doyle.’
* * *
Ashling looked at the empty space left behind Zachary Temple for a long moment, unable to move. She had a moment of hoping that maybe she’d just experienced a very vivid hallucination. But, no, her mouth was still tingling and she could still feel his hand on her breast.
It was shocking how quickly he’d made her forget everything. Who she was. Where she was. He’d barely touched her and she’d gone up in flames.
She’d believed it was a myth that desire could consume one so utterly. She’d had two short-lived relationships and they’d only confirmed her belief that that kind of desire didn’t really exist. Or didn’t exist for her.
But Temple had blown that assumption out of the water.
She just hadn’t met him.
His curt dismissal hung in the air, and Ashling had a vision of him returning to find her still standing there like someone transfixed. She moved quickly, changing into the first things she could find, not caring if they matched, stuffing the rest of her clothes into her bag.
As she went downstairs she held her breath, dreading the thought of seeing Temple again. But there was no sign of him. The butler materialised, looking seriously disapproving. What was his name again? Peters? He couldn’t possibly know what had happened, but she felt as if he did.
He opened the front door, saying coolly, ‘Mr Temple’s driver is waiting to take you home.’
Ashling’s insides curdled at the thought of being any more beholden to him than she already was. ‘Thank you, but I don’t need a lift—’
‘Mr Temple insists.’ The butler’s tone brooked no argument. Not unlike his boss.
Feeling shame and guilt and mortification all at once, Ashling exited the house and went down the steps. The driver was waiting by the open back door of the car. She heard the front door of the house close behind her with a distinct click. Another feeling joined the cauldron swirling in her gut: the all too familiar one of having trespassed where she didn’t belong.