‘Is fine,’ she lied through gritted teeth, desperate to get away and recalibrate.
‘You have to walk how far?’
About another twenty minutes. She would be fine. She’d walked far further on way worse, which was how she’d incurred the weakness in the first place—but she could manage this. If they would all just move along she would crawl home in mortified privacy. But she couldn’t figure out how to answer him.
Phoebe worked hard to be cool, calm, collected—most importantly, she wasmeasured. She delivered—discreetly and with no fuss, no frills—because she kept her feelings under control. She’d never let the arrogant authoritarian types she worked for get to her. Admittedly, that had sometimes been misinterpreted as her being something of a door mat, but she wasn’t. She just focused on managing her own reactions because extremes in anything weren’t healthy. But managing her reaction to this man—one definitely arrogant and authoritarian, not to mention handsome man—was a challenge.
‘Are you going to tell me or are we going to stand out here all day?’ he prompted.
She couldn’t unclamp her jaw to answer. He released her hand only to suddenly sweep her into his arms, throwing her so off-balance, she flung her hands around his neck.
‘I apologise for my sweaty state,’ he muttered. ‘Your dress is dusty. I’m sorry about that too.’
‘Put me down,’ she hissed thinly.
‘You’re in pain.’
Not any more.She was in full cardiac arrest from mortification. ‘I can manage. I have no desire to be swept off my feet.’
Amusement burned off that bitter edge in his eyes. ‘Is that not the dream of all women?’
‘By a possibly psychotic stranger?’
His eyes widened. Hell, he almost looked wounded. ‘You would prefer one of the others carry you?’
She looked askance at the other men and instinctively pressed closer to the half-naked, god-like one currently holding her. She blamed the electric response she’d had, because it wasn’t that she feltsaferwith him, more that she didn’t want to move away.
‘No? Better the devil you know?’ There was the slightest wink.
‘I don’t know you,’ she muttered dryly. ‘And I don’t need any of you to carry me.’
‘Know this, I won’t hurt you.’ He cocked his head and a flash of rue sparked. ‘Any more than I already have. I’ll escort you home.’
Um…no.Phoebe knew she was no lightweight. ‘You can’t possibly carry me all that way.’
His sensual smile curved.Wrong move. She’d just challenged him. Here he was, pushing to run faster than all the others. She tensed. She knew this ultra-competitive type so very well. People driven to be the best were often so singularly focused they excluded pretty much anyone and anything else in their lives. Her parents were a prime example of such extremism and Phoebe had been the excess baggage they’d ditched.
‘Ah,’ her determined ‘rescuer’ murmured. ‘A scrap of information at last.’
‘I can manage. You don’t need to perform in front of your friends.’ She knew she was merely a tool to show off his superior strength to his crew now. She hated that kind of show, her ex had acted all over her in front of others. But it had been anact. ‘There’s no need to create a scene.’
‘I quite agree.’ He kept walking.
Phoebe tensed. Not just because he was ignoring her but because being pressed close to him was shockingly—instinctively—arousing. He was big and strong, andneverhad she felt instant lust like this. She felt a primal need to quell it. ‘Are you always this authoritarian?’
‘Are you always this argumentative?’
‘You won’t make it.’
‘Watch me.’
She groaned at his bone-headedness.
‘You’re my responsibility,’ he added.
‘I’m really not,’ she said stiffly.
He sighed heavily. ‘I feel guilty.Allthe time. This is one mistake I can actually rectify, so please allow me to.’
