Stranded For One Scandalous Week (Mills & Boon Modern) (Rebels, Brothers, Billionaires Book 1) Natalie Anderson (that summer book .txt) 📖

answer. She’d had to sell everything to afford the care bills for her grandfather, and now she was homeless she had no space to store anything big anyway. But she’d always found solace in other old things that she had no direct connection to. Not that she was about to tell deeply cynical Ash Castle that; he’d only scoff.

‘Things can be destroyed, Merle,’ Ash drawled, proving her point immediately. ‘What’s the point in holding on to things so tightly when, with a strike of a match, they can be lost for ever?’

‘Says a man who accumulates more things than most people.’

‘Only money,’ he corrected.

‘People can be lost too,’ she muttered.

‘So things are sometimes safer than people?’ he asked astutely. ‘Is that why you surround yourself with them?’

‘What makes you think I do?’ Her defensiveness rose.

‘You spend your days prioritising and protecting material things from other people’s pasts,’ he asserted. ‘But not around actual, real live people.’

She tilted her chin at him, feeling that frisson—that kick from his light teasing. ‘And here you are,’ she said pointedly, ‘avoiding actual, real live people.’

‘It’s a momentary hiatus, not a habit, for me.’

‘Well.’ She breathed softly, absorbing the hit. ‘We all have bad habits, Ash.’

She took a mouthful of the curry, feeling her tastebuds zing. But her nerves were zinging all the more from the appreciative grin he flicked her. Suddenly, he pushed back from the table.

‘I’ve forgotten something vital.’

Before she could question what, he went inside. She took the chance to release a breath she’d not realised she’d been holding. Instinctively, she knew they were dancing around something more serious than either of them wanted to recognise. Maybe she ought not to open the lid on those hurts, yet she couldn’t resist her curiosity.

He returned brandishing a bottle of champagne. She eyed it warily. ‘Is it as expensive as that other one?’

‘More.’ He laughed negligently and popped the cork. ‘Will you help me drink it?’

‘I imagine you could manage it on your own.’

‘Are you referring to my insatiable appetite?’

That awareness fizzed inside her, the bubbling sensation mirroring the miniature ones in the glass. She lifted the glass he filled for her and took a haughty sip because he’d set a challenge she didn’t have the strength—or will—to ignore.

Ash had tried to distract himself by mucking about in the kitchen, but now she was sitting across the table and it felt like the most intimate date he’d had in years. Which was crazy, because it wasn’t really a date. They were just two people staying in the same house sharing dinner. His body begged to differ. His brain? That needed respite from the edginess in their conversation. They’d veered close to topics he didn’t discuss. He needed to raise shields, and to do so he fell back on customary form—to be outrageous and turn this to a totally superficial skin-to-skin tease. He’d make the most of their chemistry. It was the perfect distraction.

‘Are we going to talk about it?’ he asked bluntly. The colour in her cheeks deepened in that gorgeous way. ‘The kiss, I mean.’

She sipped her champagne to avoid answering.

‘Don’t worry, darling,’ he purred. ‘You’re not the first woman I’ve rendered speechless.’

‘Well, you are the most arrogant man I’ve met,’ she said calmly—no flirtation couched in mock-outrage.

‘Am I?’ He grinned and went in search of some truth. ‘Or maybe it’s just that you’ve not met many men.’

‘Actually I’ve met several arrogant jerks over the years.’ She lifted her chin. ‘You’re by far the worst.’

Again, no hyperbole. Just a calm, direct comment. Ash stifled his surprise. Somehow he’d imagined her to be a complete innocent—permanently hidden away from the eyes and attentions of other men, like some Rapunzel trapped in a tower of archival boxes. But she’d met several guys? When? Who?

‘The thing is, you don’t have to be,’ she said, derailing his curiosity. ‘You attract women easily.’ She angled her head and a gleam shone in her deep eyes. ‘Of course, mostly it’s your bank account,’ she said flatteningly. ‘But your looks help. And your confidence to a degree. You just take it too far.’

His looks? His confidence to a degree? He was used to women being attracted to him and to all kinds of attempts at flirtation or to capture his interest. But sweet, shy Merle’s serene stocktake of his eligible bachelor qualities didn’t feel like a flirtation attempt. The realisation was both refreshing and disappointing.

‘But the “one night” thing that you admitted to last night,’ she added. ‘That’s purely for self-preservation.’

‘You’re incorrect,’ he drawled. ‘That’s for their benefit. I’m not a marrying man, Merle. I never will be.’

‘Oh, really?’ She pouted and looked downcast. ‘Perhaps I’ll learn to live with the disappointment, eventually.’

He chuckled. ‘Miaow.’

Her lashes lifted and those deep brown eyes stared soulfully into his. ‘As if that’s not the reaction you wanted.’

What he wanted was becoming untenable. Not to mention impossible.

It was his turn to take another sip of champagne to buy time. Easy banter usually stood him in good stead. He enjoyed setting the mark and establishing the very basic rules he lived by. He generally glided towards the inevitable conclusion that chemistry such as this inspired. It was all anticipation—in the parry and thrust of prospective pleasure. But Merle seemed determined to stamp out the sparks showering between them with absurdly prim, pragmatic denial. Didn’t she know desire like this could only be destroyed by as explosive means as possible? The frankly animal urge to reach out and rouse her spirit disturbed him. For the first time he was truly trapped by lust. And it was crazy.

‘You’re blushing.’ He was so tense he sounded husky.

‘It’s the champagne,’ she muttered.

‘It’s not the champagne,’ he muttered back.

She lifted her chin with a defiance that undermined itself with its own fierceness. ‘It’s not you either.’

‘Then there’s only one thing remaining.’

‘And that is...?’

‘You.’ He smiled as triumph roared at the realisation. ‘You’re bothering yourself.’

Her flush receded, leaving her a little pale, but her gaze didn’t shy from his.