The Black Sheep and the English Rose Page 11

  He watched as she instinctively shifted her legs, pressing them closer together. Assuaging her own ache, perhaps. He waited, then, until she lifted her gaze to his, and said, “But I’m thinking I want to find out.”

  Chapter 8

  Of all the things he could have said, he’d chosen the one most guaranteed to raise every defensive wall she owned. Partly as an instinctive security measure to protect her against the possibility that any element of her other life could or would be ferreted out. She could never allow herself to be exposed in such a way. Not if she wanted to continue with the work she was doing. And she did. Both for her own very selfish reasons and for the more noble goal of helping her country. She was somewhat ashamed to admit that it was the former that drove her far more than the latter, but then, she was already more than fulfilling her philanthropic duties to those less fortunate with her position as the head of the Trent Foundation. Surely she could be allowed a small measure of selfishness in her other vocation without its reflecting too poorly on her soul.

  And here was poor Finn, whose soul was pure, as were his motivations in all avenues of his life, conflicted because he’d found himself attracted to a thief and had no way to square his moral self with that knowledge. It should amuse or gratify her in some way that despite his misgivings about her seemingly less than legal frolics, he wanted her anyway. Not only did he want her; he wanted all of her.

  She did shift in her seat then, despite willing herself not to.

  Because she was unable to find that place inside of her that would let her lie to herself, or at least come up with some small thing, anything really, that she could latch on to as a means of protecting herself. The truth of the matter—her instinctive and almost overwhelming immediate response to his baldly and intently stated desire—was that she wanted the very same thing.

  It was shocking, really, and hard to even admit as much to herself. It shouldn’t be. He’d never been far from her waking thoughts, despite the elapsed time since their last meeting, and with no promise of ever seeing each other again. And Lord knew he’d consumed her unconscious thoughts for far, far too many nights.

  But still, she’d never allowed herself the fantasy of this. Of them seeing each other again and reaching out for more than each other’s willing and quite ready body.

  What he wanted was dangerous bordering on terrifying, and she discovered she was ill prepared to deal with any part of it. She had a job to do. An important one. People were counting on her to deliver, as she always did. This was no time for selfish pursuits, much less delusional ideas that there could ever be more here than a very intense, deeply passionate and fulfilling physical relationship. Hell, she didn’t even think she could handle that and keep her head on straight, which was why she’d run so hot and cold with him already.

  There was no way she could bring him in and tell him anything, no matter how badly she realized she wanted to. Not because she cared what he thought of her—though it mattered more than it should—but to ease his own conscience and allow him the peace of mind of knowing that his instincts were still on track, despite surface appearances.

  Which left her sitting there, with no idea what to say. Or what to do. So, for the first time in her life, she took the coward’s way out. It was the only course of action she could think of that wouldn’t cause further risk of either of them being compromised.

  She stood, and made far too great a deal out of smoothing her skirt. “I think I’m going to take advantage of that room in the back. Alone.” She forced herself to look at him. “I’ve heard all that you’re saying, and I’m…I’m flattered.”

  “Flattered,” he repeated, his voice toneless.

  She shouldn’t give him the slightest of edges. All of her training, and every bit of her hard-won experience, screamed at her to raise her guard and give him not so much as a toehold to latch on to. “If the circumstances were different…” She trailed off only for a second, then quickly went on, albeit far more shakily than she’d have liked. “But they aren’t. And they won’t ever be. So I don’t see the point in pursuing anything beyond a strict working relationship. I do respect you, and because I respect you, and your directness and honesty, it’s only fair to give you the same. Therefore, I’m telling you that I think it would be best if we made every effort to stay focused on the business we have between us. And nothing else.”

  She didn’t realize she was trembling until she had to take a moment to get herself under control before risking taking so much as a step toward the back room in the heels she was wearing. That she might have been stalling to give him time to respond also crossed her mind…and the thought wasn’t easily dismissed.

  “Okay,” he said at length.

  She’d just steadied herself by placing her hand on the back of her seat, and was about to take a step, when he’d oh so calmly delivered his answer. So her consequent stumble would have been comical if not so mortifying, especially as it was accompanied, no doubt, by an obvious look of surprise on her face. It was just that given his temperament and drive, she supposed she’d expected at least a little battle.

  She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t take the amused, perhaps even smug, expression she’d surely discover on his face. Well-deserved, but presently beyond her scope to endure.

  But not looking up cost her even more, as she didn’t see that he’d risen from his seat until he took her elbow in his hand and steadied her himself. She should have recoiled from his touch. After all, she’d just delivered her quite magnificent speech about how they were going to remain partners in business only. If he pressed his suit now, she wasn’t entirely certain she wouldn’t end up the biggest hypocrite ever.

  “I understand,” he said, his tone quiet, even sincere, if not particularly warm.

  She did look at him then, wishing mightily that he’d take his hand off of her so she might have a shred of a chance at straightening out her thoughts and feelings. But he didn’t. And she found she couldn’t quite pull away. “Do you?” she heard herself ask.

  He merely nodded. But when she thought he would drop his hand and step away, he instead said, “I just want to know one thing.”

  Danger, danger, her inner voice screamed, but it didn’t stop her from responding. “Which is?”

  “Have you ever wondered?”

  “About?”

  “Me. The rest of me. Or the possibility of us.”

  She should lie. It would end this. He wouldn’t like it, but she knew a man with his code of honor would respect it. “There would be no point to it,” she said instead.

  Of course he saw through that. “A conclusion you could only draw if you had. Thought about it, that is.”

  “Avoiding the obvious doesn’t require much thinking.”

  Rather than look hurt or dismayed, he smiled. It was slow to start, but grew steadily, reaching fully to his eyes, which twinkled quite charmingly. “If only we could. Avoid it, I mean.”

  “‘Business only’ means just that. No sex, Finn,” she warned, quite shakily as it happened. Damn it all.

  “Mixing the two never seemed to bother you before.”

  “I didn’t know you wanted more. I wouldn’t—that changes things.”

  “I could say I’d be willing to settle, but if that was the case, we wouldn’t still be standing here right now.”

  She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. “So we’re understood, then,” she managed.

  He laughed. “Hardly. That’s the problem.”

  “What’s not to understand?” she demanded, trying hard to find her righteous anger at his intentional obstinacy. “You want more than I’m willing to give, so it’s only fair that we both step back and do our jobs without further entangling ourselves.”

  “If things were fair,” he said, “we wouldn’t be attracted to each other in the first place.” He crowded her the tiniest bit closer to the back of her seat. “We’d never have gotten entangled to begin with.” He shifted a bit more. She didn’t stop him. “If th
ings were fair, I’d have turned you in the first time I met you and caught you with that dazzling Columbian diamond.”

  “A diamond you were also after,” she reminded him, though her heart was beating so hard now, she couldn’t even hear herself speak.

  “The difference is, I was just recovering an item that was stolen from my client and put on the black market.” He shifted closer, lowered his head slightly, so she had to tilt her chin to maintain eye contact. “Where did that diamond end up, anyway?”

  “Rightful ownership isn’t always as clear cut a case as some would like to think,” she said, knowing this was already more than she should.

  “Meaning what? Finders, keepers?”

  “Meaning we both have our own views on what constitutes right and wrong.”

  That smile flirted around the corners of his mouth again. “Why don’t you illuminate me on your personal view.”

  “You already think you know, so why bother?”

  “I don’t think I know anything when it comes to you, which brings us all the way back around to my initial proposition.”

  “I don’t recall you propositioning me. Quite the opposite. This time,” she added, trying and failing quite magnificently to channel the inner vixen that usually had no problem surfacing around him. Instead she’d come off sounding a bit…put out.

  “If you’re trying to slowly drive me mad, Your Majesty, you’re succeeding quite brilliantly,” he told her, allowing a hint of her own accent to color his words as his amused smile once again reached his eyes.

  “I’m just trying to get the job done without creating additional obstacles that will only make it more difficult.”

  His eyes darkened slightly, and his smile hardened. “Interesting choice of words.”

  She mentally scrambled back over what she’d said, but hardly remembered which words she’d used. He was standing entirely too close, and so she was missing whatever it was he’d picked up on. “Mixing business with pleasure might not be an obstacle for you, but—”

  “That’s not what I meant. We both know what we’re capable of there, and whether we’d prefer it to be more or not.”

  Now she tensed. What had she let slip?

  But rather than illuminate things for her, he merely let his palm slide down her arm until his hand covered hers. He lifted it, turning it palm up, and pressed a kiss into the center of it, never once breaking eye contact as he curled her fingers over the damp spot. “Keep that safe for me, will you?”

  With that, he turned around and dug the bag out from under the table. “I’m going to feed the hunger I can. Would you care for anything?”

  She stood there, completely bewildered, before thankfully, mercifully, her anger kicked in. He was toying with her, and she most definitely did not appreciate it. “No, thank you. I believe I’ll retire and get some rest. Once you’ve gotten whatever information you can from your partners, I’d appreciate it if you’d use the intercom to buzz me awake. I’ll be happy to go over whatever plan you devise.” And with that, she turned her back and all but fled to the rear of the plane.

  Forty-five minutes later, lying stiffly on her back on a bed that was far bigger and far more comfortable than she’d imagined an airplane bed could be—private jet or no—Felicity realized that she was too pent up to rest. Pent-up anger, pent-up desire, pent-up…a lot of things.

  She sighed heavily, quite disgusted with her pent-up self, and tucked her arm beneath her head. She was staring at the ceiling, but seeing something else entirely. Someone, actually. Finn Dalton. Of the forever tousled blond hair, blue eyes that should be outlawed for their penetrative abilities alone, and ridiculously sexy grin that never failed to set her pulse to pounding. He wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him, so it made absolutely no sense that he was out there, she was back here, and neither of them was assuaging one bit of the sexual tension and need that had built up to volcanic proportions between them. All because he suddenly wanted more, or the chance at more. And now he was an all-or-nothing guy.

  He was the most confounding man she’d ever met.

  She curled her fingers reflexively into the palm he’d kissed, then realized what she was doing and instantly straightened her fingers. She didn’t want him mooning over her, or doing anything tender and sweet. She most definitely did not want him wanting to get to know her more intimately, at least in any way he hadn’t already discovered. Keeping things strictly physical was the only way there could be anything between them. And while she’d tried to push that aside for the good of the job, even she wasn’t so foolish as to try to make herself believe she wouldn’t be naked and climbing to that always stunning crescendo of pleasure right this very second if that had been his intent.

  She shouldn’t be disappointed. At least not to the degree she was. She liked her world, enjoyed the thrill her secret life gave her, the balance it provided to the stifling part that was the rest of it. Relentlessly public, relentlessly bound by etiquette and rules and ridiculous protocols, not to mention the endless expectations placed on her by everyone from her board members to every British citizen who read the daily sheets and believed their opinion on how she should conduct her life should weigh heavily on every choice she made. From what she wore, to when and where she ate, to whom she was seen with.

  And yet, despite all of that, or perhaps because that was what she’d been born to bear, she’d always believed, when the time came, it would be that part of her life that would provide her with her future mate and partner. After all, where else would she meet such a match? Or anyone, really, who was willing to take her on, as well as everything else she came saddled with? Of course, when that day came, she’d have given up her other…pursuits, in order to devote herself to the relationship and all the new demands it would bring. She was even content with that eventuality. Although, admittedly, she hadn’t exactly been scoping out the field, as they say, with any real diligence. Perhaps it was because she truly couldn’t envision herself with any of the men who typically crossed her path.

  Or…perhaps, subconsciously, she hadn’t really been all that keen on man-hunting because the man she really wanted, the only one to have ever truly captivated her, and captured her attention, was the one presently sitting a dozen or so yards away in this very plane.

  She rolled to her side, restless, far too pent up, and supremely agitated by the whole thing. She definitely didn’t need to be thinking this way, certainly not about Finn, and certainly not while there was such an important mission demanding her full attention.

  Which left her right back where she started. She needed to find a way to deal with him and succeed in the task at hand without letting either one of them cloud their thinking further by reactivating their dormant physical relationship. Tell that to the pulsing, demanding ache that wouldn’t subside no matter how tightly she pressed her thighs together. Perhaps Finn was right, and they should just—no. No, she told herself firmly. Don’t even go there. He’d already made it clear he was going to want more. Far, far more than she could give.

  Shockingly, she felt a sudden burn behind her eyes and squeezed them immediately, tightly shut to ward off any ridiculous tears that might think to form there. What a hopeless case she was! Finn was out of reach. Completely. Felicity could in no way allow herself to think their lives could entwine, other than like this. And this wasn’t enough. Finn was right about that. In fact, this, what little she’d had of it, of him, was already too much. It was true. If he couldn’t be everything, then he had to be nothing.

  She rolled to her back and stared once again at the ceiling, dry eyed, jaw set, fingers digging into the bedspread, knowing what she had to do. It was the only thing she could do. To save herself, save them both. To regain their focus on what was really at stake here. And that was to get as much information as she could from him while they were in the air, and then, at the first possible chance that presented itself after landing, take off on her own. It was where she should have remained all along.

&nbs
p; And let the better man, or woman, win.

  Just then the intercom buzzer went off, making her jump. But she quickly gathered herself, stood, and smoothed her skirt. A quick look in the mirror confirmed what she already knew. Eyes steely, chin set, resolve firmly in place. It was time to put that resolve into action.

  Only, as she slid open the accordion-fold door and stepped into the hallway, she came flush up against Finn, who had just stepped out of the attending conference area and was lifting his hand to rap on the frame next to her door. Instead, his knuckles brushed against her hair, a touch she moved instinctively, naturally, into, before she could marshal any rational, cognizant thought. The instant she did, a mere split second later, she tried to correct the motion, but it was already too late. He was smoothing a strand of her hair back in place, and his face was far too close to hers as he leaned in. In violation of her personal space, he unrepentantly took one step farther as he drew the ends of her hair across her bottom lip, only to drop the soft curl and replace it with his fingertips.

  “Sleep well?” he asked, his tone amused and dry, as it often was, yet completely at odds with the intensity of his gaze.

  “I—no.” She should step back. Or at the very least bat his hand away, make it clear she wasn’t to be toyed with. Only her body wouldn’t respond to any command she gave it. It was too damn busy responding to Finn. But she still had a voice in this. “Finn, I can’t—”

  “Won’t,” he corrected quietly.

  “Can’t,” she averred. “Nothing can come of this. And you’re right in that if what little there has been isn’t enough, for either of us, then it’s not fair to continue. So, no, I really can’t.”

  “Why are you so certain there isn’t anything else there? You’re not even going to give yourself a chance to find out?”

  She shook her head. Big mistake, in that it caused his fingertips to brush along her cheek. It made her want to bury her face in that wide, warm palm of his, rub against it like a kitten seeking warmth. She wanted to grab the front of his shirt, drag him back to the bed behind her, and indulge in every animal craving he’d ever inspired within her, knowing he’d fulfill each and every one.