“Really, Michael? That’s such a cliché. I expected better from you.”
His heart skipped a beat at her calling him by his given name for the first time since they were together in the pool. “I’ll try harder.”
She gave him a cool look. “You do that.”
“What about your pockets?”
“Nothing. I’ve already checked.”
“Your desk drawer?”
“Only contains a stapler.”
It didn’t make sense, unless… “Maybe they’re playing with us. Getting us stressed, then doing nothing.”
“I’m not stressed,” said the woman who’d practically slept on top of him for the past two nights while mumbling about photos in her sleep.
“You know you don’t have to be tough around me,” he said softly.
He expected her to tell him off or make some cutting remark, shutting him down. Instead, she suddenly looked lost. “I don’t know how else to be.”
“Damn, Rachel, you drive me crazy.” He cupped her nape and pulled her into him, pressing a hand to the small of her back as he held her tight.
“This is the office,” she snapped into his chest, but her arms slid around his waist.
“We’re getting married; no one would be shocked to find us showing affection.”
Again, she surprised him. Instead of reminding him that their relationship was fake, she said, “My family would be.”
She was off her game, which meant she was far more worried about her blackmailer than she’d let on. Understanding Rachel required a masterclass in reading body language and a superhuman ability to understand subtext because, on the surface, nothing was what it seemed with her.
“Whatever’s coming, we’ll handle it together.” He stroked her back, breathing that heady hothouse scent deep into his lungs.
She looked up at him. “But we aren’t together.”
Did she honestly think that? Or was this just her ability to live in denial, reformatting the world around her to suit herself?
“Rachel,” was all he said, feeling her name straight to his soul. There was no point in arguing with her; she had to reach the conclusion on her own. Instead, he could show her what they were to each other through every action. Every touch. Every word. He could show her that they were meant to be together. Call it destiny, call it fate, call it chemistry. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they belonged.
Before she could object, he leaned in to brush his lips against hers. For a woman who insisted there was nothing between them, there was no hesitation in her returning kiss. Her arms snaked around his shoulders as she melted against him. Tasting of pure sensuality and utter temptation. She was a tiger caged, a flame contained; she was a tempest in a beautiful china cup.
She was Rachel.
And Harvard loved every facet of her to distraction. Even the ice-queen side that the world knew. She’d burrowed under his skin, like a tick that couldn’t be removed. Not the most romantic of descriptions, but he was sure she’d appreciate the humor in it. If he ever managed to tell her without making her run for the hills.
Slowly, he broke their kiss. He watched as her heavy eyelids gradually lifted, and she looked up at him through thick black lashes. “Feel better now?” she asked in a husky voice that made his blood run south.
Man, she was funny. “Much better, thanks.”
She straightened and tugged down the jacket of her black pantsuit. “Good. Can we go home then?”
“Come on.” With a shake of his head, he headed for the door, opening it and checking the corridor to make sure it was safe before motioning for her to follow him out.
“You do realize the bodyguard thing is only a cover too, don’t you?” she muttered to him as he locked her office behind them.
“Your safety is more than a job to me.” She was much more than a job to him.
“I honestly don’t understand you,” she said as they headed for the elevator. “It’s as though you come from another planet. And I don’t just mean America.”
“It’s okay.” He pressed the button for the ground floor. “I don’t plan on going anywhere, so you have plenty of time to figure me out.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” she said in that snippy voice she used to intimidate her minions.
“Too late, they’re already up,” he drawled, making her roll her eyes before pointedly staring at the doors.
Honestly, there was no arguing with the man. He seemed to have an unnatural knack for getting the last word in and a strange logic that only he understood.
But, he could definitely kiss.
Rachel took a deep breath and forced her mind away from such treacherous ground. It would be far too easy to become addicted to those kisses. And it was getting harder and harder to lie beside him every night without stripping him naked and climbing all over him.
It had gotten to the stage where she was taking care of business by herself in the shower rather than give in to temptation. But that wouldn’t last. Because she didn’t just want relief—she wanted Harvard.
As the doors opened, her cell phone sounded with her mother’s ringtone—which was just a classical music intro. Rachel didn’t do humorous ringtones. She took her phone from the pocket in her bag and put it to her ear as they exited the lift.
“Hello, Mother,” she said as Harvard used his security pass to open the doorway into the main reception. “This had better not be about my avoiding Samantha and her ridiculous idea that we go wedding dress shopping together.”
A teary gasp on the other end of the line stopped Rachel in her tracks. Her hand shot out and curled around Harvard’s arm, clinging to him with a death grip that would probably leave bruises. He instantly went into full-alert mode, aware of everything and everyone around him, while still managing to focus on her.
“It’s your father,” her mother said. “He’s had another heart attack.”
Rachel’s gaze fixed on Harvard’s. “Where are you?”
“We’re at the Royal London Hospital.”
“Is anyone with you?”
“No.” The word was shaky. “Rachel, darling, your father is going to be fine. But the reason for the attack…oh, my darling, I’m so, so sorry.” Her mother sobbed. “I should have known. I should have been there for you. I should…” It was impossible to make out anything else she said.
But Rachel knew exactly what she was talking about. Her mother knew. This was what she’d been waiting for all day long. This was how her blackmailer planned on getting to her. Through her family. As the floor dropped away beneath her, Harvard’s strong arm wrapped around her waist.
“Breathe,” Harvard ordered as the line went dead.
Had she hung up? She didn’t know.
A security guard called out to Harvard, but Rachel couldn’t hear over the roar of blood rushing through her veins.
“No,” Harvard barked. “I’ve got this.” He backed Rachel against the wall, shielding her from prying eyes. “Breathe in and out with me. Put your hand on my chest. Feel it rise and fall.” He matched action to words, moving her hand and gently placing it inside his jacket, over his heart. “In, out. In, out.” He kept his gaze locked with hers, holding her in place with his will. “That’s it. You’ve got it. That’s better.”