Her Enemy Protector (Tempt Me 2)

She nodded toward the windows. “The garden.”

He looked out the window for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. “I hadn’t really noticed.” He sat down on one of the small couches that faced each other on opposite sides of the richly colored tapestry rug.

Okay then. She was going to work on a design with a possibly blind, paranoid rich guy who just happened to be super hot. This was going to be awesome. She took out her portfolio from the large canary yellow bag that housed everything she needed in her traveling design kit and sat down at the other end of the couch from the earl. It was as far away as she could get from him and still be able to show him her portfolio, but it was too close. There was something unsettling about the way he was looking at her with those blue-green eyes, like he very much enjoyed the view even though he didn’t want to. Men liked her. She liked them. That was never a problem…unless her stepfather found out and decided they could be used for his own gain.

She flipped the portfolio open and handed it to him. “I’ve brought several examples of other Elskovian family crests and some initial ideas for the new Earl of Moad crest.”

He didn’t look down at the intricate drawing of a jeweled swan sitting atop a golden crown. “That won’t be necessary.”

There it was again. That sliver of worry mixed with an excited anticipation dancing across her skin. “You already have something in mind?”

“No.” He dropped her portfolio onto the coffee table, barely missing the pristine tea service. “I have no interest in getting a crest made. What I want is the unlimited access to your stepfather and his criminal empire that only you can give me—and you will because you don’t have a choice. Until the operation is finished, you are mine.”

…

He watched her wide-eyed gaze flicker to the door before snapping back to him, fury simmering in their gray depths.

“I wouldn’t recommend it. Gustav and Mads aren’t known for slacking on the job.” He paused. “And I promise you, Ms. Macintosh, neither am I.”

Despite knowing he shouldn’t like anything about her, he couldn’t help but admire the way she schooled her features into a look of superior disdain. God, he loved a challenge.

Instead of yelling or crying or making a mad dash for it, like so many others would have, her lips curled in an icy facsimile of a smile, and she reached for the delicate porcelain teapot on the coffee table. Like every other household item here, it had come with the manor.

As she filled one of the tiny cups with tea, he took the opportunity to better size her up. She was not what he expected. Creative types were always a little bit…different, but she was a study in contradictions. She’d kept her natural honey-wheat colored hair, but it was streaked with thick swaths of pink, blue, and purple. The prim and proper white dress she wore managed to hug her every sinful curve but was set off with a worn leather jacket and the hint of a tattoo starting on her wrist and disappearing up her sleeve. Then there was her face, with its almost innocent beauty punctuated with glossy, hot-pink lips that would give a priest dirty thoughts.

“Do you take sugar?” she asked, interrupting his perusal and giving him a knowing look.

Blood rushed to his cock in anticipation. “No.”

“Too bad.” She handed him the cup on a saucer, brushing her finger across his in the process and making his skin tingle. “I think you could use some sweetness in your life.”

> Obviously she was toying with him, playing the games that had always netted her a prize before. No woman—no matter how tempting—would ever tug his attention away from his ultimate goal. Elskov’s safety hung in the balance. Lucas wouldn’t be responsible for the chaos that would ensue if Gregers Henriksen got his hands on enough weapons to start an ugly, guerrilla-style war.

Sitting back and crossing one ankle across his knee, he kept his face neutral. “Are you lecturing me or trying to taunt me into changing my mind?”

“Neither,” she said. “I was making an observation.”

He took a sip of tea, which did taste more bitter than usual—a fact that only annoyed him more. “Well, you can keep them to yourself during this operation.”

“That will be easy.” Her posture perfect and her chin tipped upward at the exact angle to deliver a nonverbal “fuck you,” Ruby took a drink. “I’m going to finish my tea and then walk out of this house forever. I won’t be a part of whatever it is you have planned.”

“Yes, you will.” He set his cup and saucer down and picked up the black folder next to the tea service. “If you don’t, your brother is going to spend the rest of his life rotting in jail.”

Her hand shook as she put her teacup down and took the folder from him. This time there wasn’t any accidentally-on-purpose touching or coy looks from under her thick lashes.

The first page was taken up almost completely by Jasper Macintosh’s mug shot. He’d had another agent enlarge the photo so Ruby would be sure to see every millimeter of the dark circles under her little brother’s eyes and the worry lurking behind the bravado. Her jaw tightened, and she swallowed hard but didn’t say anything before flipping to the next page. Much of it was blacked out because the case was ongoing, but she would be able to read the basic facts. Jasper had been caught with two kilos of cocaine in the trunk of his rented Ferrari after police received an anonymous tip. Had someone set him up? No doubt. Lucas didn’t care if the caller had been a disgruntled Macintosh crew member or someone from a rival gang. All he cared about was that the arrest gave him the leverage he needed.

After a few minutes, she closed the folder and tossed it onto the coffee table. It landed half on top of her abandoned cup of tea but managed not to knock it over.

“Who are you really?” she asked, anger making her shed the formal accent she’d put on earlier. The hard-edged, lightly accented alto fit her better than the fake upper-crust thing she was using before.

“Exactly who you think.” He lied as easily as he breathed, a skill learned by necessity at too young an age. “Lucas Bendtsen, the newest Earl of Moad.”

She arched one eyebrow. “The rest of it now.”

Challenge made the tiny green flecks in her gray eyes brighten. She had some serious spirit, this one, and an excellent bullshit detector. Considering with whom she’d grown up, that wasn’t a surprise. Still, he was a little too pleased by the discovery.

“I’m head of Silver Knights.”