Heartless Rebel (10 page)

 
          
But
she knew she was correct, that she’d surmised the truth.

 
          
He
thrived on challenge and adrenaline. He got a rush from danger. He was the
worst kind of man in the world for any woman, but especially for her. She
wanted someone who was dependable, who was stable and responsible. She wanted
what she’d never had.

 
          
But
why was she thinking
any
of these
thoughts? She barely knew this man, and she certainly wasn’t planning to fall
in love with him.

 
          
“Can
I come in?”

 
          
Cara
swallowed as she pulled the door wider. Heat blossomed in her belly, between
her thighs, crept along her skin in a crimson wave. “Of course.”

 
          
He
passed inside, carrying bags from a boutique, and set them on the antique table
at the end of the bed. “It’s not much, but it’s enough to go out shopping and
to dinner.”

 
          
Embarrassed,
she went over and peeked inside one of the bags.

 
          
“If
you don’t like it, I’ll have something else sent up. I had to guess at your
size.”

 
          
“I’m
sure you did fine,” she replied politely.

 
          
“Technically,
it wasn’t me. I simply made a phone call and described you to the shopgirls.”
His mouth crooked in a smile. A devilish smile. “Aren’t you going to look?”

 
          
“I
am looking.”

 
          
“No,
you’re peeking past the tissue. Take them out, see what you think. There’s time
to send it all back if it’s not right.”

 
          
She
withdrew a jewel green sweater set made of the finest tightly knit silk and a
pair of cream slacks from one of the bags.

 
          
“The
color suits you,” he said as her heart beat harder. “Matches your eyes.”

 
          
“Thank
you.” The sweater set was gorgeous, expensive, and she adored the color. It was
the kind of thing she’d have bought for herself, if she’d had the money to do
so. Most of her clothes came from big-box stores, huge chains that thrived on
quantity not quality. It was what she could afford, and she’d never once felt
as if she looked cheap—until now. “Everything is beautiful,” she told him with
a hard knot in her throat.

 
          
“I’m
glad you like them.”

 
          
In
the next bag, she found a box with a pair of strappy kitten heels. “The size is
absolutely perfect.”

 
          
“I
saw the bottom of your shoe when you had your leg tucked beneath you in the
car.”

 
          
“No
wonder we nearly ran into that yellow van,” she teased. Because she didn’t know
what else to do. This moment was so intimate, so private and personal, and she
felt out of sorts in a way. He wasn’t her lover, yet he’d bought clothes for
her.

 
          
It’s a job, Cara
, she reminded herself.
There was nothing wrong with what she was doing, being here with him like this.
It was different than any job she’d had before, true, but it was still a job.
And she had no suitable clothes for the wedding. This was simply part of the
process. She tried to ignore the fact she was in a bathrobe, and that she had
nothing on underneath.

 
          
“Look
in the pink bag,” he said, eyes glinting silvery hot.

 
          
Cara’s
fingers touched silk. She pulled out a delicate white bra and thong—and shoved
them back inside again as Jack laughed. She was so far in over her head that it
wasn’t funny. Had she really thought she was going to keep this about business
between them?

 
          
“So
modest. I like that about you,” he said.

 
          
Cara
straightened her spine as she stared at him. It was hard to be quelling when
you were in a bathrobe. “I’m not in the habit of showing my underwear to men I
hardly know. It’s not polite.”

 
          
He
laughed again as he took a step toward her. “Can you really say we hardly know
each other after last night?”

 
          
Heat
enveloped her, wrapped her in its web, made her long for another look at his
naked body. She’d tried not to look, but she hadn’t succeeded. And she couldn’t
forget what she’d seen. The long, strong legs. The lean hips, the jutting sex.
The flat abdomen and muscled torso. He’d had a tan line, she remembered, a
boundary line where she could run her tongue and see if it drove him as insane
as she imagined it would.
Stop
.

 
          
“Once
again, Cara, there’s an invitation in your eyes.”

 
          
“You
think too highly of yourself—”

 
          
He
closed the distance between them much quicker than she’d have expected for
someone still recovering from a brutal beating. And then he was threading a
hand in her hair, tilting her head back, his mouth coming down on hers—lightly,
sweetly, because of the cut on her lip. It stung, and yet it was also heaven.

 
          
Sensation
crashed through her, tightening her nipples, stretching her skin, leaving a
fiery imprint in its wake. The kiss was nothing, and yet it was everything.
They were sharing breath, sharing heat and scent and touch.

 
          
He
slipped his other arm around her, pulled her close enough that she felt the
hard hot heat of him through the woven cotton of her robe. His tongue traced
the line of her lips, the touch sensual and overwhelming, and she opened her
mouth to let him inside because she suddenly couldn’t imagine doing anything
else.

 
          
When
their tongues met, she couldn’t stifle the moan that emanated from her throat.
He was so cautious, so gentle, and yet she wanted more, wanted him to unleash
the fire. But he remained gentle with her, his tongue stroking against hers so
deliciously, not overtly demanding and yet so compelling at the same time.

 
          
It
was an intimate caress, this sensual slide of tongues together, and she
shivered with the lus-ciousness of it.

 
          
She
threaded her fingers into his hair, pulled his mouth tighter to hers. The
contact stung, and yet she wanted it, needed it somehow. The kiss deepened, and
her insides liquefied. Her body ached with need. It had been so long since
she’d been with a man. Yet that wasn’t what caused the ache.

 
          
It
was him. Jack Wolfe. He was exasperating and exciting and dangerous and tender.
She couldn’t figure him out, but she knew there was something potent between
them, something that would likely consume them both if they gave in to it.

 
          
And
she couldn’t afford that kind of annihilation, not now. She had to keep her
head, had to keep her heart intact. She had to do the job she’d agreed to do
and then she needed to find work. Maybe she’d even find something in London.
Even if it were only temporary, at least she would get to have the adventure
she’d always wanted.

 
          
Everything
was going well at home, and with the money she was about to send, there would
be nothing left to worry over. She could finally see the world on her terms.

 
          
Jack’s
hand slipped to the curve of her buttock, cupped her, and a shiver of desire
shot straight to her core. His mouth grew bolder, more insistent, and she clung
to him, enjoying the heady feel of his body against hers.

 
          
She
trailed a hand down his arm, over his chest. But when his hands went to the belt
at her waist, she stilled. What was she doing? How could she allow this? He was
paying her to go to London with him, to attend a wedding, and she was about to
let him make love to her? Did he think it was his right? Or was he simply
acting according to the moment?

 
          
Because
she didn’t know, she somehow found the strength to push him away. “No, Jack. I
can’t,” she said, aware that she didn’t sound very certain of herself.

 
          
If
he pushed the point, she was afraid she would succumb to his charm. Because he
was handsome and glorious and she was strangely susceptible to him.

 
          
He
gripped her upper arms, squeezed only a moment and then set her back a step.
His chest rose and fell almost as quickly as hers did.

 
          
“I
guess we know now, don’t we?”

 
          
She
looked up, met his gaze, her heart flipping at the intensity of those
glittering silver eyes. “Know what?”

 
          
He
tucked her hair behind her ear, ghosted his fingers along her jaw, let them
trail down her neck. He stopped at the thrumming pulse point in her throat, smiled.
It was a weary smile, a disappointed smile.

 
          
“That
we could be very good for each other.”

 
          
Cara
tucked her hands into her folded arms, shivered. “Only in bed, Jack. And that’s
not enough, I’m afraid.”

 
          
His
head tilted as he studied her. She felt self-conscious, silly. Like a girl, not
a woman. A skittish virgin. She wasn’t the kind of woman who slept around, but
she’d had her share of lovers. He made her feel like she had no experience
whatsoever.

 
          
“You’re
looking for happy ever after, Cara?”

 
          
Her
ears burned with embarrassment. It was so contrary to everything she’d ever
experienced, and yet it was the truth. She
needed
to believe in true love, even if she’d never seen it. That he’d seen to the
heart of the matter should surprise her, and yet it didn’t. “Isn’t everyone?”

 
          
“What
if it doesn’t exist?”

 
          
She
worried about that, too. Because hadn’t she thought that Mama and Daddy were
happy?

 
          
Hadn’t
she thought they had a wonderful, loving marriage? Until Daddy betrayed them
all and left Mama brokenhearted and alone.

 
          
In
spite of all that had happened to damage her faith in men and relationships,
she stubbornly clung to the hope she needed. There had to be more to life than
simply existing. There just
had
to
be. “It’s a chance I’ll have to take, I suppose.”

 
          
He
looked at her as if he pitied her. “Seems lonely.”

 
          
Cara
turned away. It was too much, too close to home. “Thank you for the clothes,
Jack,” she said, fingering the green sweater set.

 
          
He
let out an exasperated breath, but she didn’t turn to look at him. “I’ll leave
you to dress, then. When you’re ready, we’ll go out.”

 
          
And
then he was gone, the door closing behind him, and she was alone. Cara sank
onto the edge of the bed, trembling with adrenaline and thwarted desire.

 
          
She
was in so much trouble here. She had to be careful, had to watch herself. Or
she’d end up doing something she would most certainly regret later. Jack Wolfe
was a player, a man who loved women and fast cars and dangerous pursuits. He
wasn’t the kind of man to be interested in her any longer than it took to win
the chase. He would bed her and be done with her.

 
          
And
she was afraid she couldn’t bear it if he no longer looked at her the way he
did now.

 
          
“Stupid,
Cara,” she whispered. Then she got up and began to dress.

 
          
Paris
was indeed a feast for the senses. Cara sat at the table on the patio of the
small café where Jack had taken her for dinner and gaped at the sophisticated
Parisians as they passed by. The table was small, intimate, tucked into a
corner of the patio that no one else occupied. The linens were crisp and white,
and the food smelled delicious. Cara had worried for a moment that she would
feel uncomfortable in this chic city but everyone had been so friendly.