Captivated by Her Innocence

Anna’s glance slid over Cesare Urquart’s predictably glamorous companion, a tall, utterly stunning brunette, made taller by the crazy spiky heels she was wearing, which she’d teamed with a retro-styled tea dress and a leather biker jacket. A challenging combination that she managed to carry off with style.

Pulling herself up to her full five feet three, Anna halted and, breathing hard, levelled an accusing finger at Cesare’s broad chest. She was struggling to articulate her fury, so she stuttered. ‘Y-you!’

His right eyebrow hitched a little higher as he tipped his head. ‘Miss Henderson?’

Previously his hostility had been masked, now it was overt. Her inarticulate fury gave way to bewilderment.

‘Look, you’re a bully, I get that, but what I would like to know is why?’

‘You are a bad loser, Miss Henderson.’

She lifted her chin and declared proudly, ‘But an excellent teacher.’

The furrow between his brows deepened as she wrapped her arms around herself, but carried on shivering.

‘Why have you not got a coat on?’ he demanded irritably.

The question briefly threw Anna off her stride. ‘I lost it,’ she snarled through gritted teeth.

‘Why?’ she repeated, her militant attitude giving way to genuine confusion. It was utterly impossible for soft-hearted Anna, who would not have deliberately set out to injure her worst enemy, let alone a total stranger, to understand how or why someone would do what he had.

‘It was my job to ensure that the school has the best possible head, and you were simply not up to the job.’ He curved his fingers around the beautiful brunette’s elbow. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’

The dismissal relit the smouldering flames of Anna’s fury. ‘No, I won’t!’ she cried, catching his arm.

He swung back, his metallic stare conveying astonishment before it moved with significance to the small white hand against his sleeve.

Anna’s hand fell self-consciously away, her nerve endings still retaining the impression of hard muscle even after she rubbed her hand against her thigh. ‘There is something else—I know there is.’

He arched a sardonic brow. ‘Beyond your incompetence?’

‘The others thought I was competent. I am competent,’ she qualified angrily as her fingers itched to slap the contemptuous smile off his hatefully perfect face. ‘Until you arrived, the panel thought I was the right person for the job.’

His lip curled. ‘On paper you looked an adequate candidate.’

The comment sent his sister’s interested glance to the file her brother had flung onto the back seat.

‘Adequate?’ Anna growled.

Cesare dragged his gaze up from the full pouting curve of her lush lips, where it kept sliding. ‘I am sure you are accustomed to smiling and getting your own way. Being born beautiful does not grant you special privileges in life, Miss Henderson.’

Anna blinked. Beautiful? She half expected to see sarcasm in his stare, but she saw only anger and something she struggled to put a name to. The indefinable dark something made her stomach muscles quiver.

She wasn’t beautiful.

‘For a moment I thought you were Rosie.’

Anna had lost count of the number of times she had heard that comment while she was growing up and she understood it: her older cousin, whom she admired and loved, was beautiful.

It was a subtle thing, beauty. She was Rosanna, though she much preferred to be called Anna. She had freckles, with a not quite straight nose and a mouth that was too wide. She was okay-looking whereas Rosemary was stunning. Her cousin could have had any man; instead she had fallen for the creep who had very nearly ruined her life.

‘If anyone here is privileged...’ She gave a scornful hoot of laughter. ‘You know what I think? I think you like to prove what a big man you are because you’re not—what you are is a bully, a pathetic bully.’ He looked so astonished she almost laughed. ‘What do you do as an encore? Kick puppies?’

‘I hardly think the analogy is apt, Miss Henderson.’ Not a puppy, but there was definitely something feline about this sexy red-headed witch.

She gave a cranky grunt and snarled through clenched teeth, ‘Will you stop calling me that?’

‘Would you prefer Rosie?’

She blinked. It was weird to hear this man call her by her cousin’s diminutive. ‘My name is Rosanna.’ It didn’t really matter what he called her because he’d always manage to make it sound like an insult. ‘My friends.’ She gulped, suddenly feeling very far away from those friends. ‘They call me A-Anna.’