Hot Boss, Wicked Nights

‘I didn’t jump.’

Those three words made the hair on the nape of her neck stand up. She wanted to whoop and cry at the same time. She did neither. Just kept pushing off with her foot, back and forth, as if she weren’t falling apart, as if her heart weren’t pounding out of her body. ‘Don’t tell me daredevil Damon Gillespie lost his nerve?’

‘No.’

Of course he hadn’t. Damon had nerves of steel. Why then? ‘So what happened?’

‘I thought of you.’

She stopped pushing. His voice had softened on the last word, making her heart beat erratically.

‘What you said kept playing over and over in my head.’

She couldn’t recall what she’d said because her mind was spinning and scattered like the autumn leaves at her feet. It was Damon’s words that had been indelibly imprinted in her mind and the reason this turnabout wouldn’t work.

‘And you said, “I am what I am.”’ She looked at him for the first time since he’d sat down beside her. And her heart wept. ‘So I hope you didn’t back out on my account because if you did, it doesn’t change a thing. You give up who you are, your dreams and what you want out of life, and sooner or later you’ll resent it. And resent me.’

‘I didn’t change my mind for you, or because you asked me to. I’ve always made my own decisions, based on what’s best for me.’ He shrugged. ‘Call me a selfish bastard because it’s true. But that’s because there was no one in my life to consider. Until now.’

Too much. She set the swing in motion again. Her body was jittering; she didn’t know what to do with all the emotion in her chest. He reached out, brought the swing to an abrupt stop. Yanked it towards him so his face was a fingertip away, his eyes burning into hers.

‘Do you understand, Kate? I changed my mind because of you. I didn’t get it until I stood on the edge of a concrete wall nearly a quarter of a mile up and looked down.’

A lone finger of horror stroked the back of her neck at the image. ‘Get what?’

‘What you said before I left. It kept niggling at me, wouldn’t let me rest. Idiot that I am, I didn’t realise what you meant until the last moment. That love is the most important risk you’ll ever take.

‘You’re what I want, Kate. All I need.’ He slid off his swing to crouch down in front of her, his eyes fused with hers, his breath warm against her face in the cool autumn air. ‘I’ve lived for the adrenaline rush for so long I forgot there’s more to life than hurling oneself into space. Fact is, I don’t want to do it any more.’

He stroked her face, just once, a touch that arrowed straight to her heart, but she refused to let it sway her. ‘I’m glad, Damon. Really I am. That I helped you in some small way.’

‘Small?’ He shook his head, covered her hand with his. ‘There you go, devaluing yourself again. Tonight, Kate. Tonight we’re going out for the best dinner you ever had, and then I’m going to—’

‘I can’t tonight, Damon.’

Damon stilled at her refusal. Stunned at the unexpected setback to his plans. ‘Of course you can.’

‘No. I promised my cousin Sean I’d see Don Giovanni with him at the Opera House.’

‘Cancel.’ He knew he sounded abrupt and authoritative; he didn’t care.

She shook her head. ‘He’s already bought the tickets.’

‘But you knew I’d be back tonight.’

‘Yes. I did.’ Unflinching eyes met his and everything inside him turned cold. His hand dropped away from hers.

‘And even if he hadn’t already forked out megabucks, even if we’d only planned an after-work burger I wouldn’t cancel.’ She rubbed her arms as if to ward off more than the autumn chill. ‘You weren’t willing to call off your jump when I asked you for the most valid and important of reasons. I simply wasn’t a priority on your list.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I have an appointment in an hour. I’d better be going.’

He stepped back. ‘Not a job interview.’ Don’t let it be a job interview.

She studied him a long moment without speaking, then stood. ‘Would it matter? Damon Gillespie doesn’t need anyone.’

He damn well deserved that, but it didn’t make it any easier to take. ‘You’re wrong, Kate. And I intend to prove it to you. Tomorrow night.’

‘Tuesday night I—’

He jerked forward, leaned in. ‘I don’t care if the Prime Minister’s dining with your family tomorrow night, you’re making time for me.’