Jack tucked his phone inside his jacket pocket, but didn’t pull back into the line of traffic. His hand on the steering wheel clenched into a fist. Stephanie ran her tongue over her dried lips, unsure whether or not to speak. She knew he was looking at her—she wasn’t sure she wanted to look back at him.
Finally she did, and was instantly caught in the swirling blue storm of his eyes. That rawness was back—intense banked emotion, threatening to surge and spill. That electrical current spiked between them again.
‘Steffi Leigh…’ he murmured slowly, using her blogging name. ‘Do you really want to run away?’
CHAPTER TWO
THE QUESTION WASN’T all innocent, but Jack Wolfe couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
Or to apologise.
Not as he watched the emotions flicker in her big eyes. For a second she looked startled, but then fire flashed in those blue-green, draw-you-in depths. A sizzle sparked under his collar in response. He realised he was holding his breath—seriously? As if her answer mattered that much?
He blinked, trying to pull his wayward brain back to reality, but for a moment it seemed she actually was contemplating an escape with him. As if the two of them could run away together and steal time alone in the heat?
His body grew hotter. His skin tighter.
But then, as he watched, that polite veneer of hers descended. Back to frosted—frosty—perfection. Disappointment trickled, cooling his jets. He’d bet she was like one of those ornate overpriced cupcakes people queued for at fashionable boutiques. A tempting confection, smothered in layers of intricate icing, beautifully presented… but when it came to the tasting there was very little cake.
Jack liked cake. Icing…? Not so much.
‘Do you?’ Her voice was low, but there was the slightest of catches in it. An edge.
Was this how she was determined to play it? To be ‘nice’ and ‘accommodating’ and turn everything back to his wishes? Was she that eager to impress—to please? To secure this deal?
Would she say yes to anything he offered or asked?
For a moment he was tempted, so tempted, to ask for everything he shouldn’t.
Because, yes. He wanted to run away. And right now he wanted to run away with her.
Instead, he drew a steadying breath and answered. ‘Always.’
The spark in her eyes reignited. Defiance.
‘Because your life is so dreadful?’ she asked.
‘Everyone has their challenges,’ he answered coolly.
Another emotion, frostier than ever, entered her eyes. She thought he was spoilt. Inwardly he laughed at the irony. This was a woman who spent her life online, talking about new perfumes and places to party.
‘Yes, it must be tough producing all those travel pieces. Getting to go to the furthest corners of the planet…’ she murmured.
Nowadays too much of his time was spent chained to a desk in one of many offices Wolfe Enterprises had around the world. It was his underlings and contractors who got to see the actual sights.
But he wasn’t about to try to prove himself to her. She could think what she liked. In fact, he was pleased she wasn’t the total yes-girl he’d had her pegged as.
So he smiled at the sceptical expression she was failing to hide from him. ‘Don’t you have things you want to escape from at times?’ he asked, keeping his focus on her unbelievably beautiful face.
If her make-up weren’t so bulletproof he’d guess there would be colour running into her cheeks. She licked her lips in a nervous gesture that—inexcusably—turned him on.
Now was not the time for his body to go renegade. Steffi Leigh was everything Jack Wolfe didn’t want in a woman. She was a high-maintenance, shallow ‘stylista’, dictating to the rest of the world what to eat, what to wear, where to go and what to talk about. All instruction given in that relentlessly positive, upbeat, girly way. Did she even believe half the stuff she spouted? She was the kind of candy usually hanging off his brother George’s arm.
Though he had to concede she wasn’t as vapid as she looked. She wasn’t afraid to needle him a little. Yeah… surprisingly Steffi Leigh was not entirely nice. And that appealed more than it should. Now he wanted to peel back those perfect layers and find the essence of her. He suspected it wasn’t purely vanilla.
‘Stephanie?’ he prompted a little roughly, feeling the urge to spar harder with her. How far would he have to push to make her ditch that relentlessly smiling persona and snap at him?
He was not nice today.
‘No.’ She smiled. ‘Not at all.’
That overly determined answer both annoyed and amused him. He knew to his bones she wasn’t being honest. He’d irritated her, but she wasn’t going to bite back. Which made her better than him. Because he was close to snapping.