Running Wild

"Good, I'll tell them." There was a determined expression in those eyes of his.

The blossoming pleasure in her chest expanded rapidly. He really did want to stay and do that, make a statement.

"What else can you deal with," he asked, tiptoeing his fingers across her cleavage.

"What else have you in mind?"

"I'm thinking why don't you take a few days off work and come to Zurich with me? We could explore the place together, you can help me get settled in and all. My time there is to extend my specialist working knowledge, and it's only for a matter of weeks, but it would be so much better if you could be part of it."

His voice was hoarse, and her heart dipped and soared in response to those words, something inside her closing tight and savoring the burst of pleasure in her chest.

"We could take it from there," he added, tentatively.

"I thought you'd never ask," she responded as levelly as she could manage, and rocked her hips against his growing erection.

"You really wanted me to beg, didn't you?"

"Hey, I already had you do that."

He shook his head. "You know, some men would call you a ball breaker."

"And you, what would you call me?"

He grinned. "A worthy challenge."

"A challenge, who, me?" She laughed softly, teasing him. "You told me that's what I needed, that first night."

"It was what you needed. I did too. And you were it." He held her tightly. "You're a great player, Tina, the best. But I play to win, and I intend to have my prize."

She put one hand on his chest, stopped him. "Ah, but I'm a winner too, and sometimes, just sometimes, both players get to win the game." In the distance she heard footsteps descending the stairs. The other guests were up, Kate and Ray would be on their way down. She licked her lips, and smiled. "This is one of those times."

"You could be right, and enjoying the prize together might be fun." His eyebrows lifted as he trailed his fingers over her throat.

"My thoughts exactly," she replied, and wrapped her hand around his head, drawing her man in for a long, well-earned kiss.

MASTERING MEG

Chapter One

Meg Sheldon stepped onto the wooden porch in front of her rental cabin and looked across the glen. It was nearly midday, and the morning mist was finally clearing. Although the October air was sharp in her lungs—edged with a hint of winter—the sun had broken through the autumn clouds, promising a good day for hiking. Meg let the view fill her senses, savoring it. The Highlands of Scotland were everything she thought they would be, and more. Taking a deep breath she anticipated the hike ahead and didn't allow herself to brood on the fact that she wasn't supposed to be doing this alone.

She flung on her backpack, securing it, and shut the door of the purpose-built rental cabin. Reaching into her pocket for the key, she paused when she heard the low rumble of an engine. It wouldn't have bothered her, but she recognized that sound. It was a familiar engine sound.

Her head jolted up and she quickly turned around, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the spot where the road meandered out of the woods and ran along the spot where the rental cabins were set back from the road, clustered together at the edge of a popular hiking area. Sure enough, the sun glinted on the silver Mercedes SLR as it sped towards the cabins.

It was Piers Sinclair, her ex.

Meg gritted her teeth. What the hell was he doing here?

Piers had agreed that she could use the cabin. This was now supposed to be her healing time after their split. She'd been there two days already, and it was helping her think straight, away from London and their familiar haunts. There was no way she was going to move out so he could take his turn in the cabin. If he insisted on it, it was purely for his own amusement. He had family he could stay with in the area. Piers was a Scot, whereas she was a Londoner through and through.

Anger flared inside her as the car slowed down and pulled off the road, parking alongside her Audi. The light glinted off his shades as he looked her way. Her pulse tripped then raced on erratically, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. By the time the car had pulled to a halt in front of the place where she'd been standing and the driver emerged, she was hiking off in the opposite direction, determined to ignore him. Not before she caught sight of that long limber frame of his—broad at the shoulders and narrow at the hips—as he stepped out of the car. Her stomach knotted and her footsteps went unmeasured, her feet stumbling against the loose gravel.

Piers caught up to her and was by her side in a flash, grabbing her to him and halting her footsteps.

Meg attempted to pull away, grappling for the wooden post on the porch of the neighboring cabin. When she backed against it, he closed in, pressing his body to hers, pinning her to the spot with his weight. She swallowed hard, staring up at him in disbelief.

"Well now," he said, "this isn't very civil of you. You could have at least said hello, if you couldn't bring yourself to welcome me with open arms." The blatantly sarcastic tone of his voice was nothing compared to the look in his eyes—intense, knowing, and ever so slightly crazy. His gaze raked over her, and there was speculation in his eyes, as if he was assessing her.