‘I swear,’ he said, voice gruff. ‘This was an honest mistake.’
She crossed her arms over her chest.
Don’t look down. Don’t be a creep. Don’t look… fuck.He squeezed his eyes shut the second they landed on her beautiful breasts. Breasts he remembered vividly, despite the passage of time. Breasts that had been flooding his mind since their kiss the other day.
‘Yeah, well, Ihonestlythink you should go find another room.’
Great idea. Even a chirruping cricket would be better than just standing like a gawping fish in her bedroom, invading her privacy and ruminations.At midnight…
‘Why are you up so late?’ He opened his eyes and looked at her, with the self-discipline of a ninja, focusing on her eyes, and nothing below neck level.
‘I… couldn’t sleep,’ she replied. Haltingly. Defensively.Interesting.
‘Want some company?’ He had no idea what possessed him to ask that. He hadn’t planned to. But seeing her just standing there with a cup of tea, suddenly, the thing he wanted most in the world was to grab a cup of his own and join her on the small balcony. Just to stand there, side by side, staring out at the moonlit ocean.
‘Do you meanyou?’ she squeaked, like he’d suggested they do a nudie run through the hotel.
‘I don’t see anyone else in your room.’
‘That’s because it’s my room,’ she pointed out archly. And then, in a way that made his chest throb with a fast tattoo, ‘But whatever. Suit yourself.’
Did that mean he could stay?
‘Kettle’s over there, if you want something. I brought my own tea bags.’
Relief flooded his chest.
It was like scoring the winning goal in the dying minutes of the game. He grinned as he expelled a long, slow breath. ‘You brought your own tea bags?’
Her tone was defensive. ‘So?’
‘You thought they wouldn’t have tea on the island?’
‘I didn’t know if they’d have the kinds of tea I like.’
He laughed. ‘Some kind of fancy tea?’
‘Do I seem like a fancy girl?’ she replied, pulling a face. ‘I thought they’donlyhave fancy tea, and I just like my everyday peppermint. I didn’t want it to have weird crap added in.’
‘What makes you think it’d have something fancy?’ he asked, walking towards the kettle, but glancing across at her. Sienna stood on the threshold of the balcony, one shoulder propped against the door jamb.
‘Hello… have you seen where we’re staying?’
He looked around the room and shrugged.
‘Okay, Moneybags, you’re probably used to living in the lap of luxury, but not this girl. I mean – this is a world-famous billionaire’s island. This mansion is probably the size of Ashbury Falls. There’s an army of staff, four swimming pools, I don’t know how many spas, a restaurant, a bar, a golf course… do you really blame me for thinking the peppermint tea might have, I don’t know, cinnamon or rooibos or freaking diamond dust?’
‘Rooibos?’ he repeated.
‘Another type of tea.’ She waved a hand through the air, then placed it on her hip, making his mouth go instantly dry as he couldn’t help but notice – for the millionth time – her slim silhouette and beautiful curves. He turned back to the now-boiled kettle abruptly, throwing a bag into a mug and sloshing some water in.
The mug felt like something out of a doll’s house in his hand. Dainty and fine. Like he could break it with the wrong grip.
Like he could break a person.
Except he wouldn’t. He’d never get close enough to break anyone.
He wasn’t his father.
