Sweet Seduction Surrender (Sweet Seduction, Book 4)

by Claire, Nicola

  My head jerked up, from where I'd been staring blindly at the carpet. Every single time we'd seen each other he'd looked at me as much as I'd looked at him. If he was really not attracted to me, wouldn't he have just ignored my presence altogether?

  A smile stretched my lips. "Kate, when have you ever ignored me?" I hadn't. But then neither had he ignored me.

  Oh Lord, was I insane to think this? Was I reading too much into a few casual glances? No, they hadn't been casual in the slightest. Nick was right, Jason did look at me a certain way.

  Images flicked through my head in quick, beautiful succession. Dom's house, across the patio where the barbecue sits. Our eyes connecting for longer than necessary. Sweet Seduction, picking up a takeaway coffee and turning to see him sitting in the corner with Adam, eyes on my behind. Outside ASI, crashing into him as he exited the front door, his arms grabbing my shoulders to stop me falling, his eyes locked on my breasts as I sucked in a surprised breath of air.

  Jason Cain was attracted to me, and he hid it about as well as I think I hid my attraction for him.

  Oh good Lord, this was madness. For months he had occupied my mind. Have I been on his too?

  Chapter 4

  Even Observant, Calculating, Intelligent Ex-Soldiers, Who Were Two Steps Ahead Of Me, Couldn't Read Minds

  I changed into my silk pyjamas after coming to that mind blowing realisation. Climbing between the sheets, I wondered if I could sleep at all. My heart was beating an unfathomable rhythm inside my chest, my palms were sweaty with excitement and nerves. My head was reeling from the memories I had replayed and the different slant I now could interpret in them.

  I wasn't an idiot though. Just because I could see that Jason had been hiding his attraction to me for all this time, didn't mean he'd suddenly change tomorrow and pursue me with open honesty and blatant lust. He might have propositioned me tonight, in an offhand way, but that was probably more of a knee-jerk reaction, a defence mechanism he relied on, when dealing with a challenging opponent. At least, I'd like to think I'm a challenge.

  But I knew that what made Jason a mystery I couldn't stop craving to figure out, was also what made Jason refuse to acknowledge his attraction for me. Something held him back, and just because I'd seen through his ruse, didn't mean he'd show his true colours now.

  I sighed, rolled over onto my side and tried to get some sleep. Impossible. I knew Jason was just outside my room, in the lounge, lying out on the settee. Or knowing Jason, he'd done a circuit of the property as soon as my door had closed, just to make sure the place was secure. He was a tightly coiled spring, always alert and ready to strike or move to defend. You never knew when the spring would snap. You just knew that he could at any second.

  It was that tight control, I think, that attracted me the most. Everything Jason did was planned, executed in an exacting manner. He didn't do rash, or spontaneous. He taunted me with my need to watch and not get involved in life. But Jason controlled everything. If he'd decided to proposition me, it wouldn't have been an off the cuff remark.

  I sat bolt upright in bed. My heart thundering, my breaths trying to catch up. Jason did come on to me, didn't he? "Yeah. I reckon I could teach you to loosen up." How long had he wanted to do that? "Dirty and sweaty. And most importantly, Kate. I'd want to hear you. No holds barred. Let down that wall." Yes, that was a come on. Wasn't it?

  I shook my head. This was ridiculous, I was making myself exhausted trying to work Jason out. But, what else could 'dirty and sweaty' mean? If not a come on, then what? Just a tease. A play to get me to react.

  And here I was back at Nick's warning, making my heartbeat settle and my breath leave me in a defeated rush. I flopped back down on my bed and stared blindly at the ceiling. Enough! I needed to sleep, and then tomorrow this would all make some sort of sick sense.

  Several minutes of clearing my mind, slowing my heart rate and relaxing my frame, just like my yoga instructor advised, and I managed to fall asleep. Thankfully it was sound enough that I didn't wake until morning, when reality came crashing back in.

  The smell of bacon frying and coffee percolating permeated the air. My bedroom door was still shut, so the scents had managed to waft beneath the door frame to make it to my bed. It was clearly strong coffee and bacon wasn't a smell I was overly used to at this hour of the day.

  I blinked sleep away, then attempted to push all memories of last night from my head. Going around in circles again this morning would not solve a thing. The only thing I should be concerning myself with right now, was the fact that Jason was in my kitchen cooking breakfast.

  Was he cooking it for me?

  I growled low in the back of my throat and pushed myself out of bed. I was such a lost cause.

  Hurrying through my morning routine, I told myself the pace with which I washed, then brushed my teeth was merely because I wanted to be a good host, not at all because I wanted to see Jason. In my kitchen. Making breakfast like he belonged there.

  Oh damn, I did have it bad.

  And he was a player. Nick had said.

  I sighed, straightened my blouse, checked my skirt and forced myself out of my bedroom and down the hall.

  Jason stood at the stove humming a tune I couldn't quite recognise. I'll repeat that. He was humming a tune. Cheerfully. I couldn't align this softened and carefree image of Jason Cain with the soldier I had come to know. A small part of me wept for joy. Now this Jason, I could really like.

  I hadn't made a sound. I'm sure of that. But somehow he knew I was there.

  "You going to pour the juice, or just watch me cater to your every need?" He didn't even bother to turn around when he said that. Just kept on flipping bacon strips in the frying pan.

  I walked haltingly over to the fridge and pulled out the bottle of OJ.

  "Of course," he continued, still not acknowledging me with the courtesy of a glance, "I offered to see to your needs last night, but you turned me down."

  I snorted at his cheek.

  "Clearly the offer wasn't tempting enough then, was it?" I was rather proud of that comeback.

  "Kate, Kate, Kate," he drawled in that now infuriating, but familiar way of his. "You wouldn't know a good offer if it came up and spanked you on the arse."

  I bristled. How dare he?

  "Or maybe I can recognise a player when I see one." Anger and embarrassment had made me say it, but I regretted the words as soon as they left my lips. God, Jason just pushed all my buttons. I admit some good and some, like now, infuriating.

  Jason turned around giving me the full force of his chestnut glare.

  "What would know of players, Kate?"

  "I don't like games, Jason," I said, my voice softer than I had intended. It gave too much away.

  "Games are what make life worth living, Kate. But then, I shouldn't expect you to know that, seeing as you barely participate in life as it is."

  My hands found my hips and I returned his glare with equal fervour.

  "Just because I don't care for your type of games, Cain, does not mean I don't know how to have fun." It was a fudge, a distraction at best. Something to make him focus on anything else but my inability to take risks. I didn't want Jason to think of me as a wall flower. I'd never thought of myself that way before.

  He turned back to the stove and flicked the switch to cool the element, even took the time to shift the pan away from the heat. Safety first. Captain Jason Cain was in the room. His attention was soon back on me however.

  "And how do you have fun, Kate Anscombe?" he asked, muscled arms crossed over his big chest.

  Oh dear. He'd put me on the spot now.

  "I, ah, I go out?" The words were said with a rising inflection on the end, as though I was unsure of my answer and was seeking confirmation from him.

  He huffed out a sound of amusement.

  "Yeah. And where do you go?"

  "Bars. Clubs. I've been around." Oh boy.

  He chuckled and shook his head.

  "And when you go
to these bars and clubs is it with men? Or women?"

  "My girlfriends. But we, ah, we meet men all the time." God, could he tell I was making this up? Sure, I've been chatted up in bars before, but I don't make a habit of trawling for men when I'm out.

  I guess that was his point. My eyes flicked over his face, trying to see where he was going with this. Just a tease? Or was it real? An attempt to get me to step out of my comfort zone.

  "Have you kissed a stranger before?" he asked. "When you're out with your girlfriends meeting men?"

  I couldn't tell if this was a game to him, or not. If it was, he hid that fact well. He was enjoying this, that much was obvious. He was also aware I was well out of my depth. For a second I doubted my attraction to him, what was it I saw in this man? Good looks and a fine body? He was attractive, in a bad-boy, know-you'd-enjoy-every-second-with-him way. So, maybe I was going through a rebellious stage. Maybe I had finally decided to be a teenager at the age of twenty-nine.

  Jason Cain was everything my mother would warn me away from. But despite the casual ease with which he could tear a person down. Despite his lethal ability to find a person's weakness and exploit it. There was more to Jason. Sometimes I couldn't quite see it, but I knew it existed still. Don't ask me how, I just did. And that was the man I was attracted to. Confident, sexy, alluring physique or not. It was the man beneath the hard and deathly façade that called to me.

  "My kisses are not given away freely, Jason. One has to work to earn them."

  He paused, as though considering my statement as some sort of pearl of wisdom. Then nodded sagely, as if I'd said something he agreed wholeheartedly with. Me not giving my kisses away freely? I smothered the snort that wanted loose. And decided I'd test a theory.

  "Did you sleep well?" I asked, to get the ball rolling. I wasn't the world's best flirt, I had to work up to it.

  "Didn't sleep," he replied, his attention back on the breakfast cooking. "Told you that last night."

  "Yes," I agreed, leaning my hip against the counter-top off to his side. His eyes darted over towards me, then purposefully returned to the stove. "You said a lot of things last night, Jason," I added.

  "Did any of it sink in?" he asked casually, as he started to plate up the food.

  I paused, taking my time replying. "I put it all down to testosterone, to be honest. You forget, I grew up with two older brothers. I'm not as much of a pushover as you seem to think."

  "I don't think you're a pushover, Kate. I think you're too scared to taste life."

  I laughed, I wasn't sure if it sounded natural enough, but it was out now. I had to forge on. "You think you know me, Jason. You haven't got a clue."

  I moved to the table and took a seat, as if the conversation was boring me. My heart rocketed within my chest, I was struggling to keep my breathing level and slow. Perspiration had started to coat my upper lip. I brushed at it while his back was still turned, and then picked up my glass of orange juice with a trembling hand.

  I was playing with fire, and I knew it.

  "Strange thing being in the Army," he said, as he slid a plate of fried tomatoes, scrambled eggs and toast before me. "You learn to read people. Your life can depend on reading a person right. I don't claim to be as good as those profilers, but survival out there means you hone skills a civilian wouldn't necessarily think to use."

  He hesitated while he retrieved his own plate of food and then sat down, and without offering another word began to shovel eggs on his fork. I stared at him, waiting for more, but acutely aware I wasn't going to get it.

  He did this on purpose. Evasive, oblique replies. He knew they wound me up. Everything was a game to Jason. Even me. I forced myself not to push for further explanation - it's what he expected - and focused on my food.

  It was good. Too good. A girl could get used to this. Which only maddened me more. Damn this man for turning up uninvited and complicating my life. Damn me for letting him affect me so.

  We might have been attracted to each other, but that didn't mean we embraced it. I huffed out a near silent laugh, which sounded like a soft snort.

  "What's so funny, Kate? Picturing me with one of your knives thrust between my ribs?"

  Yeah, he knew he wound me up, all right.

  "Not everything is a battle to be fought to the death, Jason."

  "No, you see, that's where you're wrong, Kate. Life's a battle, every damn day. And if you don't take it seriously, you die."

  The snort was definitely audible that time.

  "I'm not one of your soldiers," I pointed out. "My life isn't that cut-throat."

  "No, you're not a soldier," he agreed, giving me a slow and appreciative once over. "But, I'd bet your life is cut-throat."

  I shook my head, placed my fork down on the side of my plate, and opened my mouth to reply. Jason beat me to it, waving his fork in the air to emphasise his words.

  "Take this design job you're on," he said. "What would you do to close it?"

  I blinked. What did he think I'd do?

  "Would you flirt?" he asked, voice lowering slightly. "Wear a short skirt and show off those beautiful long legs?" He thought I had long legs? "Wear a tight top to emphasise those pert little tits?" Yeah, that's right. Long legs, but small breasts. That's really how he saw me.

  I folded my arms across said breasts, watching as his eyes followed the movement, his lips tipping up in that infuriating smug smile.

  "You're doing it now, Kate," he said huskily.

  What?

  "I am not!"

  "Bringing my attention to your tits. Next you'll be bending over at the waist to pick something up and offering me that fuckable arse."

  I growled. "You are so crass."

  He chuckled. "It's a tits and arse world, baby. You gotta be prepared."

  I stared at him, unsure how this conversation had taken such a... disturbing turn. So much for my flirting skills.

  "My point," Jason said with meaning, "is your world is just as cut-throat as mine, and you'd do whatever is necessary to survive."

  "By flashing my legs and breasts?" I offered, incredulously.

  "Well, do you?"

  "No!"

  "Really? Be honest. Look at what you're wearing."

  I glanced down at my ensemble. A deep red blouse and slim-line cream skirt. My heart plummeted. The blouse was fitted, the neckline not exactly slutty, but low enough to show off my meagre assets to their best advantage. The skirt was above knee, and sitting here it had risen further, to mid thigh. I was also wearing heels, that I knew made my calf muscles look damn good from behind.

  I wasn't even seeing a client today. I'd done this because Jason Cain was in my house. It was armour, my armour. With dawning mortification I realised he was right. I did dress for the battlefield, albeit a battlefield of potential contracts and button pushing ex-soldiers. It might not have been a fight to the death, but it was a fight.

  At the moment I was fighting to throw Jason off balance, and therefore survive the next few hours in his presence without losing my head. Or heart.

  Jason leaned back in his chair and let his eyes flow over my outfit. They rested on my legs for an extended period of time. Without raising them to my face, he said, "There's nothing wrong with using what you've been given to get what you want."

  Chocolate eyes flicked up to mine.

  "You just gotta be sure you really want it," he added.

  I was losing this round, and the Anscombe in me was disappointed and irritated that I'd let Jason have any ground at all.

  No, my life wasn't cut-throat, but with Jason in it, it was definitely a battle to be won. I held his gaze for several seconds, unwilling to back down, and then swiped my plate up off the table and headed to the sink. My back to the table and Jason, I leaned down and emptied what was left on my plate into the rubbish bin.

  Jason started laughing behind me. I swung back and arched a brow, the emptied plate still in my hand.

  "This is a bad idea," he muttered, shaking hi
s head.

  "What is?" I demanded, not liking the way he was looking at me. I couldn't decide if it was appreciative or not.

  "You don't even know you're doing it, do you?" he murmured.

  "Doing what?" I asked, placing the plate on the bench so I could give him my full attention. When I turned back around he was standing right there. I hadn't heard him move, not the scrape of his chair or the sound of his rubber soled shoes on the wooden floor.

  I pressed my back into the bench, unable to retreat further. Then cursed myself mentally for trying to back up at all. I straightened my shoulders and raised my chin. Receiving that smirk of his for my efforts.

  "Life is what we make of it, Kate," he whispered, his eyes searching my face as though looking for something there.

  "Very Zen of you, Jason."

  He shrugged, then took a step back and it felt like all the warmth in my body had left with him. This physical attraction was getting too intense. It was ruling my every thought now.

  I struggled to think of something to level the playing field with, to distance myself from what his proximity did to my pulse. But I was rattled, no witty words sprang to mind. There was much more to Jason than I had realised. Oh, I'd suspected, but never truly seen. He was observant, calculating, intelligent and two steps ahead of me. Nothing he'd said this morning didn't ring true. Rather than deter me, it made him even more fascinating to my eyes.

  I was in so deep and I didn't know how I'd actually got there. But the real question? Was Jason in deep with me too?

  "And what do you do to close a deal, Jason?" I asked, my eyes flicking over his face to see his reaction to my words.

  He smiled, it wasn't a smirk. It was impressed, I think. He knew I'd been floundering, and he was surprised and pleased that I'd found my voice at last.

  "Whatever I have to do, Kate," he replied. "Whatever it takes." I could believe that.

  "Then maybe we're more alike than you realise," I pointed out, pushing past him to gather his plate from the table. He watched my every move.