Rubbing a hand across his forehead, he tried to forget the way Candy’s tight black skirt and white blouse accentuated her petite, shapely body. Her hair had been put up in one of those large butterfly clips and he’d wanted to take it down and run his fingers through it. When he’d put his hand over hers and felt the warmth of her skin, it had taken all of his strength not to pull her into his arms. The scent of her had invaded his senses and he’d almost lost it. He had let his anger override his desire so he wouldn’t disgrace himself.
Cleve closed his eyes, but the image of Candy standing before him wearing nothing but those sexy red shoes careered into his mind and he quickly opened them.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
She was panting. He made her feel things she had not felt...ever. His eyes bore into hers and she became confused. His eyes had changed colour from brown to blue. Was she going crazy? “Your eyes...” she began and then heard the door open behind her.
“What the hell’s going on in here!” bellowed the voice, a familiar voice.
Candy’s head jerked back and she saw Cleve standing there with his hands on his hips. She turned abruptly to face the man in front of her and felt every cell in her body turn to mud. What the hell was going on? She pulled away from the embrace. “What...?” She put a hand to her mouth, looking from one to the other. There were two of them.
He sat behind his desk, papers in hand, with a glum look on his face. She could almost envision a dark cloud hanging over his head.
“Sit down,” he told her, and she did as slowly as she possibly could. She crossed her legs, glad she had worn sheer, black, silk stockings. His eyes moved back to her face. Bingo! “Miss Walker.” He cleared his throat. “I’m assuming you have a good reason for missing the meeting.”
Why did he think she was going to make this easy for him? He glowered at her. She primped her hair.
“Damn it!” he said, his voice deep and forceful.
She splayed her fingers before her. Maybe she should get a manicure, they seemed all the rage.
He stood then, all six-foot-six of astounding masculinity, and her heart slammed against her chest. “What do you think you’re playing at?” he yelled, and she clasped her shaking hands together, creasing the papers she held.
“I’m not the one playing games,” she said softly, thankful her voice didn’t shake.
His eyes turned black and a vein in his neck began to pulsate. As he moved from behind the desk and stood in front of her, her eyes widened.
She picked up her phone from the bedside table and looked at the screen. She didn’t recognise the number. “Hello,” she croaked.
“Hello,” she repeated.
“It’s Cleve,” the deep, accented voice said and she almost dropped the phone.
The way he said her name made her tremble. “Yes?” she answered.
“I’m at the front door. Come and let me in.”
What the hell was he doing here? “What do you want?” she asked and her heart pounded in her chest.
“I want to talk to you,” he said.
“About what?” She sat up. She couldn’t see him like this. She was barely awake.
“Do I have to talk to you from out here,” he said. “Your neighbours can hear me.”
Damn that man to hell!
He pulled her brutally into his arms and brought his mouth down hard over hers taking her breath, taking her last shred of doubt...
She responded to his probing tongue. He formed a fist in her hair and held her roughly against him. She winced and let out a small cry.
“So, it’s me you want?” he asked again, panting. He sounded desperate.
“Yes,” she rasped, clinging to him. God help her but she did.
He closed his eyes, chest heaving.
Something wasn’t right. Searching his face, she watched him open his eyes and saw the torment in them.
“Then...” he took a breath, “...leave my damn brother alone!” And he pushed her away from him.
She stumbled and fell to the bed. She’d never seen such anguish on his face before. Her heart was beating so hard it seemed to tear through her chest. “Cleve...I don’t understand,” she cried, but the room was empty.