by Amy Andrews
Have Ivy. Going dark.
There’d been no reply from the Colonel. Seth hadn’t expected one. Ivy’s father knew what going dark meant—no communications in either direction. And he also knew that Seth would get in touch as soon as he was able.
Which wasn’t to say that the old man wasn’t going out of his mind now. Seth was sure he was. But there was too much military in the old man to break with protocol, particularly with the life of his daughter at stake.
When he got to the house, he’d set his team on some investigation and surveillance and the Colonel on some more high-level digging with the police. Then they’d sit tight.
Together. Alone. Again.
An hour later Seth pulled into the drive of his house nestled in the northern beaches hinterland. All the tension seeped out of his muscles as he switched off the engine. This was his turf now and thanks to his security system he could see anyone who came and went in any direction for miles.
Ivy stirred and mumbled, “We’re here?”
“Yes.”
Not that there was much to see in the pitch black with no moon. Sure, the stars were brighter out here away from the city lights, but the black blob of his elongated pole house loomed over them, eliminating everything else from sight.
The sun would be up in a couple of hours and it’d be a different story. The spectacular one-eighty degree view he had of the Pacific Ocean was breathtaking, the windows boasting nothing but deep blue ocean, light blue sky, and acres of green treetops.
And if he got bored of that, there was always Ivy to look at.
Fuck.
He undid his seatbelt and climbed out of the car, the stiff breeze coming from the ocean ruffling his hair. “This way,” he said as he opened Ivy’s door. His eyes had adjusted enough to be able to see the path to the house.
She followed him, sticking close, the wind picking up her hair, too. He keyed in his security code and the door opened. Seth ushered her in, the downlights automatically glowing a soft welcome.
“Wow,” Ivy said, looking around at the large open space.
Acres of blond floorboards lead to a massive bank of outward sloping windows that formed the entire front wall. It was impossible to tell now, but that whole section jutted out over the valley below on sturdy poles and in one flick of a switch the glass could automatically tint, allowing him to see out but no one to see in.
Not that anyone could really see in.
The admiration in her voice stroked his ego. This was his haven, built to his specifications, and he loved it. “Wait till you see it in the daylight.”
Seth didn’t need to take her on a tour of the house because there wasn’t much more to it than what could already be seen. He veered to the hallway on his left and she followed. “These are your quarters,” he said, opening a door to a massive bedroom. “Bathroom behind there,” he said, pointing to the half wall. “I think you’ll find it comfortable.”
At the opposite end down a similar hallway were his quarters, but he didn’t bother with showing her. He just pointed in the direction and said, “That’s me down there,” before wandering towards the sleek kitchen.
More downlights gleamed off chrome as she joined him.
“You want a tea or a coffee?” he asked, opening the pantry and peering inside. “There’s not much in way of food or anything. I’ll have some more supplies brought up in the morning.”
“Do you have booze?”
Seth looked over his shoulder at her. Her hip was leaning against the caramel stone top of the long, central counter. “Sure. What would you like? I have some red wine.”
She shook her head. “I think I need something stronger.”
“Scotch?”
“Perfect.”
He shut the door, then strolled across to a bank of wall-mounted cupboards, opening one and pulling out two heavy tumblers.
“This way,” he said.
He was conscious of her following him to the lounge area and standing just to the side and behind him as he grabbed the scotch out of the long, low wooden cabinet and poured their drinks. Above it hung a massive flat-screen television. Not that he ever watched the damn thing. There were enough monitors in his office down the hall, but it was occasionally useful when he couldn’t sleep.
Seth passed her one of the glasses. “Thank you,” she murmured, taking a decent swallow with barely a wince.
“Sit,” he said, indicating the comfy, dark leather chairs behind her. “We need to go over this thing again.”
She shook her head. “Have you got something I can…put on over this thing? You didn’t exactly give me any time to pack anything.”
“Sure,” he said, draining his glass in one swallow. Something big, baggy, and ugly coming up.
He returned momentarily with an old football jersey. She took it and threw it straight on over her head. It was baggy, covering everything instantly and actually came down lower than the hem of her pajamas. It should have been perfect, but somehow seeing her in his clothes didn’t help one little bit.
Seth noticed she’d finished her drink and he poured them both a second. “Okay, let’s start from the beginning,” he said, taking a seat in a single chair when Ivy chose the triple seater.
“I heard footsteps on the porch and then the front door handle jiggled and then there was scraping at the door—”
“It woke you?”
“No.” She looked into her glass. “I was already awake. I’ve been finding it hard to sleep since…”
Yeah. Seth didn’t need her to clarify. “Go on,” he instructed.
“That’s it. That’s when I rang you.”
“Did you try to get a visual on him?”
She gave him an are-you-nuts look. “No. I locked myself in the bathroom and waited for you like you told me.”
“He didn’t say anything?”
“No.”
“You didn’t notice any unusual cars hanging around the street tonight?”
“No.”
Seth didn’t like her quick dismissal. “Think, Ivy. Hard. Are you sure? Anything you noticed out of place could be important.”
She glared at him. “Thanks, I do know how this works. I used to watch Justified.”
Seth rolled his eyes. If only this was an American cop show instead of real life. He continued to grill her about what exactly had happened for twenty minutes, going over and over it including the nearby siren which Ivy felt was the reason the intruder had fled only a minute or two before he’d arrived.
“Why didn’t you ring the cops?”
“I…don’t know.” A frown drew her brows together. “I just…thought of you and your mad ninja skills and I know you don’t live very far away. I figured you’d probably get to me quicker.”
“What about Merry?”
“She wasn’t home. She had a date.”
Seth didn’t like the idea of her being alone, it didn’t seem safe, but it was none of his damn business. Plenty of women lived alone in big cities.
“Okay.” He stood, tossing back the remnants of his drink. “I have to go and wake some people up now. Will you be okay here?”
She nodded. “I’ll be fine. Think I’ll watch the sun come up.”
Seth looked out the windows at the first signs of the sky lightning. “I might be half an hour or so.”
“That’s fine. I’m not going anywhere.”
He almost smiled at that one but her face was suddenly sombre and he didn’t think she meant it as a joke. So he left her to the sunrise, striding to his office and shutting the door.
He sat down, trying not to think about what could have happened if he hadn’t arrived in time. Or if the intruder hadn’t been scared away by a siren. Or if he’d equipped himself with better tools for the job.
She was safe—that’s what mattered.
And the information he’d gleaned was encouraging. He was inclined to rule out a professional organization such as the Colonel was worried about—it had just seemed too amateur.
Which left the hit man. And not a very good one at that.
At least that was something.
Seth booted up his computer, checking out the camera feeds from around the property as he called the Colonel, then Kenny, to get the investigation kicked off. He wanted to know who’d tried to break into Ivy’s and he wanted to know yesterday.
By the time he’d finished putting everything in place forty minutes had passed, but he was confident they’d soon know the culprit. His team was good and with the Colonel’s resources he had no doubt something would shake loose before too much longer.
Tangerine streaks and thin fingers of wispy pink clouds reached up from the horizon as Seth made his way to the couch to find Ivy curled up on her side, fast asleep. The mantra that had been yammering away in his head since her phone call—save Ivy, save Ivy, save Ivy—was soothed by the sight.
He’d saved Ivy. She was safe and nothing could touch her here.
His gaze drifted to the hem of his football jersey just shy of her knees. The damn thing had never looked so hot. The urge to pick her up and carry her to bed—to his bed—rode him hard. But he’d sure as hell blown any chance of her being into that. She’d called him because she’d been scared. She didn’t want him. She’d made that perfectly clear.
Walk away, man. Walk away.
Seth grabbed the throw that was sitting over the back of the couch and spread it over her, then backed the hell away.
Chapter Fourteen
Ivy woke to full sunshine and voices behind her several hours later. She sat up, her hand brushing against the softest cashmere, her brain foggy, the events of the night before coming back in flashes.
The break-in, ringing Dean, him hustling her out of the house and into his car, coming here, answering his questions, watching the sunrise then…nothing.
She turned. Dean—Seth—in his clothes from last night was talking to a middle-aged woman as he took grocery bags out of her hands. His hair was ruffled and his shirt rumpled as if he’d slept in it.
She glanced down at the football jersey and remembered she had no clothes. No toothbrush, no hairbrush, no shoes—nothing. Which made her totally dependent on De…Seth.
Fabulous. Not.
At least she had her phone. She hunted around for it and spotted it on the cushion beside her. The screen told her it was twenty past nine. Bloody hell—she’d totally crashed.
Her breath caught at the sight beyond the windows. Before she knew it she was on her feet, padding over the pale, wide floorboards to them, taking in the arc of incredibly blue sky and the distant ocean stretching all the way to the horizon.
It was breathtaking.
The door shut behind her and she turned. “Morning,” Seth said briskly, barely looking at her. “Croissants?”
Ivy’s stomach rumbled. She was hungry enough to eat dirt at the moment, croissants were heaven. But if he thought the way to her was through her stomach he was dead wrong.
“You think croissants are going to make me less pissed at you?” It was about time one of them mentioned the elephant in the room. Everything had happened too fast last night. Too much fright and flight. Too much adrenaline.
But their messy parting sat large between them in the cold light of day.
He shook his head. “Nope. But you gotta eat, right?”
Her mouth watered as the aroma of warm pastry wafted her way. Her stomach growled again. The man did make an excellent point. And what did it serve to rehash it all? Hopefully she was out of here before too much longer and she could be righteously pissed at him again.
“Right.”
She sat on one of the bar stools that lined the side of the center island and watched him potter around the kitchen grabbing plates and glasses for the frosty orange juice and mucking around making coffee with his fancy machine.
Ivy grabbed a croissant off the pile of six and plucked pieces off it as she watched him work. The buttery pastry melted against her tongue and she gave a happy sigh. Considering what had happened to her the last week, she’d take her bliss where she could get it.
He placed a coffee in front of her, his gaze falling to her mouth and fixing there. Her lips tingled under his scrutiny as her tongue darted out to dislodge a flake of pastry. He looked like he wanted to do it for her and she hated that she wanted him to do it, too.
She was grateful when he finally turned away, reaching up high into a cupboard for something. His shirt lifted and pulled taut across the span of his shoulders and she hated that her body could still be hot for him after what had happened.
“So,” she said to distract herself from things that weren’t helpful. “What have you found out?”
He bought her up to speed in the ordered, methodical way she’d have expected from a Special Forces guy. No news yet but he was confident it would be over shortly.
Just like the police had been.
For some reason though, she was more inclined to believe him.
“So, why aren’t we trusting the police again?”
“It’s not that I don’t trust them. I just have questions as to why they didn’t know the hit was still going ahead.”
“So you think it is?”
“I don’t know yet,” he said. “He’s a complete amateur if it is. Which is a good thing. But until we know a bit more I can protect you better here.”
She nodded. “Okay. I don’t like it, but okay.” She turned on the stool and looked out the magnificent windows again. They seemed to be in their own shack in the sky here, about a million miles from anywhere. “I guess there are worse places to be hiding from a hit man.”
Every cell in her body responded to the sun, the sea, the trees. Up here it was like she was part of it all and her body felt it on an elemental level. “Are you rich?” she asked. It was a bald question. Not one usually asked in polite conversation but frankly, she didn’t give a shit if she offended him.
“I do all right,” he acknowledged. “But this house comes from the small inheritance left by my English grandmother, which I left in the very capable hands of a good investment firm while I was in the military.”
“Why did you come to Australia?”
He shrugged. “A fresh start. A long way away from any war zones. And there were more opportunities for me here. Then I came across this piece of land and I knew this was where I wanted to be.”
Ivy looked around the high ceilings and the massive expanse of glass. “It’s pretty awesome,” she murmured. “I’m surprised you’d choose living in Sydney over this. I don’t think I’d ever want to leave if it was mine.”
He shrugged. “Life is full of hard choices.”
Ivy’s head swiveled in his direction, her eyes narrowing. If he thought this compared to their situation he was dead wrong.
“You want the last croissant?” he asked, offering her the plate, their gazes clashing.
Ivy shook her head. Her appetite had disappeared. “I think I need a shower,” she said, the angle of her jaw aching as she ground her teeth.
He put the plate down. “Towels and everything are in your bathroom.”
…
Ivy stood with her back to the hot, hard spray staring out over the vista for a long time. She’d never been naked in full view of a bank of windows before for fear of being seen and uploaded onto the internet. But this complete feeling of privacy was liberating. It was like showering in the clouds.
The events of the last twelve hours played through her head. She couldn’t believe she was here with him. Seth. A few days ago she’d been so angry at him she’d never wanted to see him again. It hadn’t, unfortunately, stopped her thinking about him.
And last night when somebody had been trying to break in, he’d been the first person she’d thought of and she hadn’t hesitated to call him. This morning, despite his hard choices crack, she still believed that was the right decision.
He may have completely destroyed the trust she’d placed in him, but if her father had entrusted him with he
r security, then she sure as shit could, too.
Christ. Her father.
He would stroke out if he knew about this latest development. Hopefully it’d all be over quickly and she wouldn’t have to go ten rounds with him over this as she had over the whole Seth debacle. When she got home they were having a serious conversation about her right to privacy.
Things were going to change.
Ivy reached over and flicked the taps off, then grabbed a thick white towel that swamped her in fluffy layers and dried herself off. She threw Seth’s jersey on but was loathe to get back into yesterday’s underwear.
Which left her with two options. Commando. Or ask to borrow a pair of Seth’s. It was a no-brainer for her. Just because she didn’t like him very much didn’t mean she was immune to what he did to her body. Or that she hadn’t spent the last two days daydreaming about what could have happened between them. Commando was not an option.
She needed layers.
Hell, if he had a chastity belt, she’d take that, too.
She followed the sound of Seth’s voice all the way to his bedroom. He was talking on the phone, his back to her, his very big bed dominating the room. His hair was damp and he wore nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips.
Her heart gave a funny little gallop. Crap. The guy was built. Every muscle in his back was defined by the taut stretch of his bronzed skin. She’d seen him like this before, but it was like the first time all over again. Heat slammed into her belly, making her excruciatingly aware that she was bare beneath his jersey.
It was wrong to be so hot for the guy who had lied to her. But she was.
How was it possible to be angry and turned on?
Her gaze roved over the ink on his right shoulder blade. Stars. A cluster of them. The urge to check it out, to go nearer, to touch it, rode her hard and she ground her bare feet into the floorboards.
He hung up a few seconds later, noticing her as he turned, and tossed his phone on the bed. His eyes widened slightly. Blue. She’d already gotten used to it.
“Oh…hi?” he said.
“Was that any news?”