Maybe they’re just upping security on all the staff?
That explanation didn’t hold an ounce of water and she knew it. No one else got a guard, and she doubted anyone other than Mr. Eisele had Mr. Bounds’s phone number in their contacts. But if it wasn’t about the estate on the whole, then whatcouldit be about?
Mr. Bounds made it clear that she wasn’t in trouble for her stunt in the greenhouse. Other than that, there was only…
Zia almost missed a step.
No, he doesn’t even know you. Why would someone like Mr. Bounds have an interest in you, anyway?
She was unsophisticated, silly, and obsessed with gardening. More often than not she had dirt under her fingernails and had never even been to an opera or a fancy museum gala. Goodness, she never eventraveled.
Still, her heart lurched with giddy hope as she navigated the brick staircase. A soft, shy part of her whispered,But he installed lights for you, Zia.
When she learned they were installing lights, she assumed they would be the harsh white kind — the ones that offered maximum glow but unfortunately made everything in their reach look washed out and cold.
She should have known that Mr. Bounds would only allow modifications to his estate thatenhancedthe beauty of it.
Instead of floodlights, each lamp was crafted of beautifully designed wrought iron. The lights themselves were encased in milky glass designed to look like the buds of some lovely flower. They glowed with soft warmth, illuminating only enough for her to see by without washing away the intimidating majesty of the night.
Tiny lights illuminated each step she took, and down below, the golden lamplight glittered on the wide koi pond, guiding her toward the man that made her heart skip a beat — or several.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Zia bit her lip and turned left. She barely made it to the entrance to the rose garden before she stumbled to a stop, her breath caught in her throat.
Mr. Bounds stood in the shadows between two lamps. He was a figure cut out of velvet darkness — broad shouldered, arms tucked behind his back, and powerful legs spread in a ready stance. His eyes, reflecting with that predator’s night-glow, were fixed on her.
Her heartbeat stuttered and she swore she saw his eyes narrow.
Gods,she thought, stomach bottoming out with that dizzying, fearful thrill.It’s like locking eyes with a jaguar about to pounce.
ChapterEight
“Good morning, Miss North.”His voice was a silky caress from the darkness.
Zia could feel her pulse racing in the hollow of her throat as she forced herself up the single brick step and into the garden. Her voice was embarrassingly husky when she replied, “Good morning, Mr. Bounds.”
He took one long stride into the light. It was suddenly even harder to catch her breath.
Mr. Bounds was just… somuch.Dressed in a thin gray sweater, black jeans, and a long black overcoat, he looked like a runway model straight from the underworld. Beautiful, but terrifying.
His hair was pulled back in another high ponytail. It tightened his features, giving his already cutting beauty an even sharper edge. The light from the lamps gilded his bronze skin and highlighted his heavy-lidded gaze. His lashes struck long, thin shadows across the high planes of his cheekbones. Like little knife slashes, they slid over his skin with every slow blink.
While his facial expression was impassive, his eyes… If she didn’t know any better, Zia would have said he looked like he wanted to eat her up in tiny bites.
Her mouth was painfully dry when she said, “So… so you wanted a tour?”
“Amongst other things.” He walked toward her, fine leather shoes making hardly any noise in the gravel, and extended a crooked elbow. “Walk me through your rose garden and tell me about your work.”
Breathing hadn’t become any easier. Being so close to him was overwhelming, heady. It felt like he was sucking the air out of her lungs when he looked down at her expectantly. Worse, she was pretty sure she likedthe idea of him taking her breath, her blood, and maybe even herheartfrom her.
Again, she imagined the jaguar. Putting her trembling hand in the crook of his elbow felt more like reaching out to pet a hungry big cat. Would he snap his jaws around her delicate fingers or would he tilt his head into her hand, begging for more?
The thought of Mr. Bounds begging for anythingmade Zia go instantly molten. Gods, it was an erotic image. Having a man as powerful as him at her beck and call, eager to please?
A sharp ache took up residence between her thighs as her fingers flexed on his forearm.
Zia was so disoriented by the sudden flash of overwhelming desire that she found her mind going momentarily blank.
A silky murmur slid against the shell of her ear. Warm breath puffed against the sensitive skin of her throat, chasing away the chill. “Are you well, Miss North? Your heart is beating faster than normal.”
