He crept down the wooden stairs on quiet bare feet and slipped inside the home office. He closed the door and leaned against it briefly, listening. When satisfied there was no immediate threat of discovery, he slipped across to the massive dark timber desk and started going through the drawers. There were a number of files that he quickly scanned through. He paused when he saw a sale property contract for the Illawarra proposed development. The old couple. His jaw muscles clenched. The listed sale price was well below market value. Bastard.
He replaced the files and searched the rest of the office, quickly making his way to the framed painting on the wall to peer behind it. He smiled. There was a safe. How convenient.
He checked the frame of the painting. There were hinges on one side. He swung the painting to reveal the door of the safe behind it. He cocked his head as he gazed up at it. The safe was an old model, which was surprising. He hadn’t thought Lowry was the complacent type.
He went to work trying to crack it. After ten minutes he sighed in frustration. Okay, so maybe not so complacent. What was the damn code? He wasn’t a safecracker. Far from it.
He tried as many codes as he could. Lowry’s birthday. His wife’s birthday. Melanie’s birthday—although he was kind of relieved it didn’t open on that one, it had ‘Ick Factor’ all over it.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the soft, feminine voice rasped from the doorway.
He froze before slowly looking over his shoulder.
Melanie stood just inside the study. Her expression was a mix of horror, anger and disappointment, and it was the last emotion that affected him the most.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he whispered immediately.
She closed the door behind her with a quiet snick and stalked across the room. She was barefoot—no wonder he hadn’t heard her. She moved with a lithe grace that suggested years of dance training.
“You little toad,” she whispered furiously. “You come into our home as a guest, and as soon as our backs are turned, you try to rob us? How could you?”
Although her assumption provided an excuse for his actions, and was entirely in keeping with his cover, he didn’t like the conclusion she’d drawn, nor the speed with which she’d drawn it.
“You think I’m capable of that?”
She frowned. “You’re alone in my stepfather’s office, and your hand is practically inside his safe. What am I supposed to think?”
Well, when she put it like that… “I’m not a thief.” He tried to keep the injury out of his tone. He was undercover, for Pete’s sake. He was supposed to be a badass. Let her think you’re a badass.
“I’m not a thief.” Oh, please, just shut up.
She folded her arms, and arched an eyebrow. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what it is you’re doing…alone…in my stepfather’s office…at his safe.”
He said the first thing that came into his mind. “I’m helping you.”
She blinked. “What?”
He nodded. Yeah, that’s right. “I’m helping you.”
She took a step back. “You’re helping me?”
“I saw the stuff on that disk. You’re going after your stepfather.” God, he hoped he was right. Otherwise, there goes the case. He was taking a punt, but something in his gut told him that’s exactly what was happening here. While she spit nails at him, she still struck him as a decent woman, a woman deep in over her head. A woman who needed help.
Melanie glanced around the office. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped, although her voice was whisper-quiet.
He put his hand on her shoulder. “You’re trying to get some dirt on your stepdad. I’ll help you.”
Her blue gaze narrowed, and he felt like he was being pierced by laser beams as she tried to read his expression.
”I don’t trust you.”
“When have I given you a reason to distrust me?”
She gaped at him momentarily before launching into her answer. “Gee whiz, let me think on that one.” She held up a finger. “You blackmailed me into a date,” she said, then raised another finger, “you stole the disk,” another finger rose, “you spied on the data on that disk, and now you’re sneaking around my home.” She met his gaze. “Why the hell would I trust you?”
He gazed down at her for a long moment, saw the anger, the hurt, the fear she tried to keep hidden. “Because I’ve kept your secret,” he whispered to her.
Voices outside the door sent Melanie’s already pounding heart into aerobic territory. The door handle clicked as it turned. She reacted instantly.
She slid her fingers through Colin’s still-damp hair and tugged his mouth down to meet hers.
Chapter 13
His lips were warm, soft, and seductive. He opened his mouth against hers and slid his tongue inside. Their kiss wasn’t teasing, or gentle. It was hot, wet and soul-drugging. She vaguely heard the quiet click as the portrait covered the safe, felt his hands against her waist as he guided her around. The rough surface of the cool, exposed stone pressed against her back, Colin pressed against her front, and she felt like molten fire trapped between a rock and a hard place.
God, he was a good kisser. Her knees trembled, and his grip tightened on her waist as he slanted his lips at a different angle, one that allowed even better access to her mouth. A hot-damn good kisser.
She tugged on his hair, pulling him closer. He growled softly, his mouth open against hers, his tongue sliding to play and dip against her own. His warm hand rose from her hips to trail up and brush the side of her breast. She moaned into his mouth, her body softening against his, welcoming. Heat. Everywhere they touched scorched her senses.
A throat cleared. She ignored it, pressing her breast into the hand that warmed it. She was rewarded when his arms swept around her and he gathered her tighter, closer, holy heck, hotter.
The throat cleared again, and this time the noise tapped irritatingly on her consciousness. Colin’s lips hesitated, withdrew, and she gazed up at his green eyes as he panted against her lips. His expression was heated, tight, filled with a frustrated desire that she wanted to….
“Sorry to interrupt, but this is my office…” her stepfather’s voice drawled from the doorway.
“Sorry, Lionel,” she murmured, finally pulling her gaze away from the man who had stolen her breath, her senses. She wasn’t sorry in the least. “We were looking for someplace private.” She looked over at the man standing just inside the doorway. For once, she didn’t want to run, or hide. For once, she just didn’t care what he saw, or thought, or did.
She tugged on Colin’s hand and pulled him behind her as she made to leave. Lionel paused in front of her, and she eyed him. Had he shrunk? He seemed….shorter.
Her stepfather eyed them both closely for a moment. “Our guests have left,” he told her, eyeing Colin briefly. “Even your employer and his family. Why were they here, anyway?”
Melanie arched an eyebrow. “This is my home, too, Lionel, and my friends are welcome here. Anytime.” She didn’t know why she said it, but she was tired of tiptoeing around the man. This home had once been her father’s, before Lionel trespassed into it. She had more right to it than he did, damn it. He held his boring little soirees, paraded his wealth and connections before those he wanted to impress, but she had every right to invite whomever she wanted here. Perhaps it was time to remind him of that.
Something flickered in her stepfather’s gaze, something hot and angry, before it was blanked behind a calm equanimity. “Of course, Mel, darling. I was simply surprised.”
She thought of her mother sleeping upstairs, his handprint on her cheek. She thought of the captured image on her phone, of the diary she kept, and those secret files she still didn’t quite understand. Get used to it, buddy, because you’re in for more surprises.
She smiled tightly as she made to move, and he had to shift out of her way or get trodden on. Her exit would have been much more dramatic if she wasn’t barefoot.
&nb
sp; She stalked out of the office and down the hall, and it wasn’t until she entered the kitchen that she realised she still clutched Colin’s hand. She let it go and turned to face him.
“Okay, we’re done, now.” She tilted her head back and folded her arms. He had to go. That was all there was to it. He knew too much, or at least, suspected it. He was getting involved, turning up at events, turning up at her home, chatting behind closed doors with her stepfather and his partner. This was serious. She didn’t know what was driving him, if he was doing it out of a blind desire to ‘help her’—which she highly doubted, he didn’t seem to have an altruistic bone in his body—or if there was something more sinister at play here. Either way, he couldn’t be trusted, and she needed him gone. Now.
Before she kissed him again.
Her cheeks flamed. She didn’t think she could just stop at kissing. Not next time. No, damn it, there isn’t going to be a next time. No matter how smoking hot he kissed.
“What do you mean, we’re done?” Colin frowned, folding his arms to mimic her stance.
“You’ve collected. We’ve done the dinner. We’ve done the dancing. Now we’ve kissed. That’s it. All done.”
Colin’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her for a moment, a little smile eventually tugging at his lips. “Ah, but there’s just one problem with that,” he said, and he took a step closer.
“What?” She shifted. She wasn’t retreating. Not really. Just…getting comfortable.
“You had to want to give me a kiss. Not feel like you had to.” He took another step closer. She stepped back.
“I gave you a kiss,” she hissed.
“Nu-huh. You were doing it to cover your butt.”
She gasped, and felt the pantry door press against her back, cutting off any further retreat. “I did not.”
He pressed his palms against the laminated surface either side of her face, nodding. “Yeah, you did.” His eyes toured her body, skimming down over her blue blouse and her white denim-clad legs. She tried not to suck her breath in, but damn, his gaze was hot. He stared at her toes. “You were in there for exactly the same reason I was,” he murmured as he leaned in closer.
“No, I wasn’t,” she murmured right back, staring at his lips. Sexy lips. He was such a great kisser. She swallowed.
“Yes, you were,” he said, curling those sexy lips into a sexy smile. “You tip-toed in there to do exactly what you caught me doing.”
Busted. He was right. She’d thought Lionel would be occupied for a while with the departing guests, it was a good time to get into his office and…kiss Colin. She swallowed again. Damn, she was dry. Yet, so hot and damp in other places….
“And when your stepdad came in, you kissed me to get your sexy little butt out of trouble,” he murmured, brushing the tip of her nose with his own. Her nipples tightened and her chin lifted, just a little. She wasn’t going to kiss him, damn it.
“I still kissed you,” she rasped, her breath mingling with his. “I paid my debt.”
“No. You did what you did to get yourself out of trouble,” he repeated softly. “Not because you wanted to kiss me, but because it would be a distraction.”
She had no idea what he was talking about, she was just watching those sexy lips move. “Huh?” What was that about a distraction?
”You still owe me a kiss,” he whispered. “And when you deliver, it’s going to be amazing.”
Oh, well, maybe she should… “No. You have to go.” He was so bloody frustrating when he flirted with her like this. She could almost forget her problems, almost forget his association with her stepfather, which she just couldn’t quite get her head around.
“Why are you dealing with him?”
Colin paused, and if she wasn’t mistaken, retreated just a little bit. His gaze flicked up from her mouth to meet her eyes. “I work for him,” he said simply.
She shook her head. “No. It’s not just that. You worked at the site, and had nothing else to do with him. Why are you dropping in on his events, or visiting his home? Why are you ducking behind closed doors for secret conversations?”
This time there was no mistaking his withdrawal as he straightened away from her. “Believe it or not, Mel, it’s part of my job.” His expression went from sexy challenge to stone cold sombre in the blink of an eye.
She looked up at him. He was tall, strong, still young. He didn’t seem to be tainted with the same toxic stain of dishonesty her stepfather or his associates wore. She thought of the way he’d stepped in with Robert at the fundraiser, of how he’d gone along with whatever cockamamie story she concocted. There was a well-buried streak of protectiveness there, of honour and integrity that he tried to hide. If he remained in contact with her stepfather and his partner, though, she feared he’d lose all that.
“Do you like me, Colin?” God, she hadn’t meant for that to come out sounding quite so desperate or pathetic.
Colin gave her a sideways glance. “Yeah,” he responded slowly, as though uncertain of his footing in the sudden change of subject. “Maybe.”
Her lips quirked. Well, maybe was better than an out-and-out ‘hell, no’. “Leave this job. Find something else to do.”
He looked down at his own toes and blew the air out of his cheeks. “I can’t, Mel.”
She put her hand on his arm to stop him from turning away. “Yes, you can, Colin. Leave this job, leave Lionel. You’re smart,” she told him. He had to be, he’d wriggled into Lionel’s good graces in a very short time. “You don’t need this particular construction job. There are plenty around. I’ll help you find another one. Just…just get away from L&D.” Come with me. She stopped those last three words before they tripped out.
“I can’t, Mel.” His words rasped out, as though tumbling over rough rocks. “I need to do this.”
He needed it more than he needed her. She withdrew her hand. He didn’t need to say it. The reward her stepfather provided was obviously stronger than whatever she could offer. She folded her arms around her middle and nodded.
“Okay. I see.” She stepped away from the pantry. “I, uh, I can’t be with you. If you work with my stepfather, it’s not—I can’t be with you.” One of them would wind up hurt, and she feared it would be her. It wasn’t like they were in a relationship, or anything. Hell, the man frustrated her beyond reasoning. She wasn’t upset. She had no reason to be upset. They barely knew each other. She thought briefly of their one kiss. It had held heat, and it had held promise, but one kiss didn’t mean anything, did it? She blinked furiously. She wasn’t going to cry over this man. She wasn’t going to cry over another relationship tainted by her stepfather. She wouldn’t allow herself to feel hurt.
Damn it, she wanted to cry.
She ducked her head and started to walk away. “You were looking in the wrong place,” she said quietly.
“What?” His voice, soft, pained, reached her, and she paused in the kitchen doorway. She clutched the wooden doorframe, refusing to look over her shoulder.
“Whatever you were looking for, he wouldn’t keep it in the safe. It’s too obvious. He’s better at hiding things.” She whispered those words to him, as advice, as a warning, then left.
Cole fisted his hand against the pantry door. Damn. He’d blown it. He’d kissed her. Well, technically she’d kissed him. Damn near fried his circuits. That had to be the reason why things had deteriorated to where they had.
Did he like her? Of course he bloody liked her. She was gorgeous. Sexy. Sneaky. What wasn’t to like? Hell. She was a job, damn it. There shouldn’t have been any kissing, certainly none that hot and heavy.
Did he like her? Bloody hell. Why would she ask that? She hadn’t even said it in a needy, clingy way, just a curious, calm question. Did he like her?
He left the kitchen and padded down toward the pontoon to grab his shoes. Damn women. They had a sly, stealthy way of sneaking in and twisting everything around. Get the evidence on Lowry. That’s all he had to do. Not kiss and canoodle with his step
daughter, and then feel the ten-tonne guilt patty slam down on him when he chose to do his duty instead of running away with her.
Oh, she hadn’t come right out and said it, but that’s where she’d been headed. Choose her over Lionel.
He swiped up his shoes from the wooden deck of the pontoon. He thought facing down temptation was supposed to make you feel stronger, more righteous.
So far, it sucked.
He gazed out over the dark water. Stars twinkled sporadically, trying to pierce through a light cloud cover. Yachts and other pleasure-craft bobbed in the river, most with little lights to mark their presence, but it was still dark, the water an ever-rippling body of darkness. Like Lowry’s boat. It bobbed like a luminous spectre, dark windows that looked like eyes against a white hull that glowed faintly in the gloom.
He thought about Melanie’s parting words. ‘He’s better at hiding things’. He eyed the motor yacht. It was a sleek craft, sitting high in the water with a covered deck and wheelhouse. It could be a good place to hide things. He looked back at the house. The den was to the side of the house, its window looking out toward the bridges, not directly down onto the pontoon. Melanie was upstairs on the top level, if that light in the window was any indication. There was no silhouette, no indication she was looking out anywhere. Her mother was resting, so no threat there.
He padded out along the pontoon and climbed up the ladder and onto the deck, shifting quietly so as to limit any rocking of the boat.
The deck had a polished modern décor of white and steel, gleaming dully in the muted night glow. Hunched over so that nobody could see his silhouette against the sky, he crossed to the wheelhouse and the cabin trapdoor. Both were locked.
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