Will the mighty Steele fall?

He’d faced down madmen with guns, hunted thieves and jumped off buildings for fun. So why is Liam Steele at his wit’s end when Dr. Isabella Magnini needs his protection? The brilliant and beautiful scientist’s work is revolutionary, and someone wants to keep her insights secret—no matter what it costs.

When the House of Steele comes together to protect Isabella, Liam realizes just how isolated he’s truly become. And as he and Isabella dodge bullets, fires and even an invasion, he knows he’s in more danger than ever. Because how will he ever let her go?

“Somehow I don’t get the feeling you’re a man who asks for kisses all that often.”

Was that her voice? Those seductive, breathy tones that sounded like they came from the deepest part of her?

“I can’t remember ever wanting one more.”

He hesitated for the briefest moment, those vivid blue eyes sparking with fire, before pressing his lips to hers. Where she thought the awkward angle of their airplane seats would make it difficult to enjoy his kiss, it did the opposite. The barrier actually made the kiss sweeter, a subtle reminder they needed to work for what they wanted.

Or reach out and take it.

The thought hovered in the back of her mind as she laid her hands on Liam’s shoulders. If their kiss in the elevator that morning had been a surprise assault on the senses, this was a lush invitation.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to the House of Steele! I’ve had a wonderful time writing about the Steele siblings—Liam, Campbell, Kensington and Rowan—and the high-end security firm they founded as a family. And oh, boy, have I been looking forward to writing Liam’s story.

In The Manhattan Encounter the elusive, play-by-his-own-rules Liam finally falls into a situation he can’t brush off, walk away from or ignore. Pressed by his wily grandfather, Liam reluctantly takes on the case of a family acquaintance who has fallen into a spot of trouble.

Dr. Isabella Magnini, a quiet scientist, has discovered an incredible breakthrough in DNA research. But when that breakthrough leads some unpleasant people to her door, she goes to the House of Steele for help.

One of the things I most love about being an author is when a book takes me places I never expected. The Manhattan Encounter was one of those special books. When I started out, this was a fun, suspenseful romp putting two polar opposites on the run from the bad guys. What came out was an exploration of the importance of family, of self and of the deep importance of giving yourself—heart and soul—to another.

I hope you enjoy Liam and Isabella’s story!

Best,

Addison Fox

The Manhattan Encounter

Addison Fox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ADDISON FOX

is a Philadelphia girl transplanted to Dallas, Texas. Although her similarities to Grace Kelly stop at sharing the same place of birth, she’s often dreamed of marrying a prince and living along the Mediterranean.

In the meantime, she’s more than happy penning romance novels about two strong-willed and exciting people who deserve their happy ever after—after she makes them work so hard for it, of course. When she’s not writing, she can be found spending time with family and friends, reading or enjoying a glass of wine.

Find out more about Addison or contact her at her website—www.addisonfox.com—or catch up with her on Facebook (addisonfoxauthor) and Twitter (@addisonfox).

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For Jan

Dearest friend, trusted confidant, word ninja, sounding board and wine enabler. For all these reasons and so many, many more, I am so blessed you are a part of my life.

Contents

Dear Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Extract

Chapter 1

London, Today

“You can’t be a damn playboy all your life.”

Liam Steele stared down his grandfather and ignored the fact the man’s rheumy blue eyes held more mischief than censure. “Fascinating advice coming from a man who narrowly avoided an arranged marriage to a princess because the urge to sow wild oats remained too strong.”

“I was waiting for the right woman. She wasn’t it.”

“Maybe I am, too.”

Alexander Steele’s snort was loud and about as subtle as the whistle of an oncoming freight train. “Could have fooled me.”

A light sigh floated over the top of Liam’s head before a gentle hand cupped his shoulder. “Alex. For the love of God and all that’s holy, would you please leave the man alone? Even I’m sick of listening to you.”

Liam stood and took his grandmother’s hand, helping her into the chair. “Nice save, Grandmother.”

“A necessary one.” She settled her hands in her lap, her gaze focused on her husband. “He’s been going on and on and I’m done listening to him. You’ll settle down when you’re damn well ready to and not a moment sooner. Just because your father married at twenty doesn’t mean that’s the right path for you.”

“Now, Penelope.” His grandfather started in with the tone Liam and his sister Kensington had dubbed the “Parliament Address.” “Marriage is good enough for Campbell, Rowan and Kenzi.”

“Because they found the right partners. Liam’s still looking for the woman who makes his heart sing.”

Liam shook his now-empty glass, the whiskey-tinged ice cubes making a satisfying sound to echo the end of Round 1. “I’m actually standing right here, you know.”

“Yes, dear.” His grandmother patted the hand he’d left on her shoulder. “But sadly, the argument rages on whether you’re here or not. Your grandfather has wedding fever.”

Which, to his grandmother’s earlier point, his siblings had done an admirable job of feeding. Three relationships in less than a year—good, solid relationships that were destined to stand the tests of time—had only increased his grandfather’s focus.

His grandfather’s maniacal focus.

“In the event it’s escaped anyone’s notice, I date plenty.”

“Plenty being the operative word,” Alexander Steele grumbled. “You date a series of vapid models who are convinced a piece of chewing gum will make them fat. Real women eat.”

Liam had learned long ago to let the opinions of others—even those he loved as dearly as he did his family—roll off his back. He lived his life as he chose and couldn’t muster up much concern about what anyone else thought.

So why was the urge to simply leave so overwhelming?

“I’m only in London overnight. Any chance we can discuss something a bit more interesting?”

“What’s more interesting than the rest of your life?”

“Living it.” He set the leaded glass down with a thud on his grandmother’s antique end table. Whatever either of his grandparents had been about to say faded on their lips as they both stared at him, silence descending on the room like a thick roll of fog.

* * *

Isabella Magnini dug the piece of paper out of her pocket once more to double-check she’d come to the right address. Rain beat down on her umbrella, sluicing off in a curtain of water that made the front door hard to see, and she squinted to make out the gold numbers partially hidden by wet ivy. At least she’d found the place.

The bottom of her slacks was a soupy wash of wool against her ankles, striking evidence that the Tube ride that had begun her evening was a monumentally bad idea.

Like coming here.

She fought the thought and marched the rest of the way toward the door. No backing out now. No turning around. No wishing her actions away. She needed help and if the increasing threats finding their way to her office, her home and her car were any indication, she needed it now.

The London townhome rose several impressive stories above her as she lifted the heavy knocker. A small porch cover shielded her from the rain and she turned to shake off her umbrella as she waited for the door to open. A heavy clap of thunder startled her—just like everything else these days—and she jumped, water flying off her umbrella like a wet dog shaking out its fur.

“Hey!”

A dark voice behind her added to the surprise and she whirled around, the motion flinging more heavy drops of water toward the doorway.

A man filled the portal, his thick dark—almost black—hair brushed back except for a few errant curls that formed artful waves over his forehead. Broad shoulders filled the breadth of a white button-down shirt that tapered into a narrow waist clad in black slacks. The water she’d inadvertently slung at him stained the white in heavy drops and he wiped water from his eyes before turning a narrow gaze on her.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry.” She reached forward in a vague attempt to wipe the water off his shirt but stopped with her arm outstretched as the man took a decided step back.

Oh no. She’d written the address down wrong, that had to be it. Another mindless mistake, one of the many she made in her daily life as her head filled with the abstract thoughts of her work. Thoughts that took up so much room she edged out all the smaller details others had no problem recalling with ease.

She shook her head and dropped her outstretched arm, the heavy pour of rain at her back misting against her nape. She had the wrong house. Alexander Steele was eighty-five if he was a day and the man who answered the door most definitely did not have the look of hired help. This part of London was known for its high-end homes, an increasing number filled by eligible bachelors who worked the stock market or billed exorbitant rates at the city’s most well-heeled law firms. She’d clearly found her way to the front door of one of them.

“I’m so sorry. I must have the wrong house.”

The smallest spark of warmth filled his shockingly blue eyes before he reached out a hand and gestured her closer. “Where are you headed?”

She glanced at the crumpled paper, now nearly transparent with rain, but didn’t move from her spot. “Three twenty-five.”

“You’ve found it.”

“But I’m looking for Mr. Steele.”

“I’m his grandson, Liam.” Cultured tones lit up his voice—not quite British under the American but obviously influenced—before he reached out and snatched the umbrella, then took her firmly in hand. “You must be this evening’s entertainment.”

Entertainment? “I’m just here to see your grandfather, Mr. Steele. I won’t take up much of his time.”

A small smile lit up his face and the transformation was so shocking she simply stopped in the center of the large foyer to stare for a moment. A large glass chandelier hung from the ceiling, lighting the entryway in a soft glow and the warm light bounced off the rich locks of his hair.

The smile changed his face—warmed it considerably—and in some small, nonsensical portion of her brain she had the distinct thought the man smiled rarely, if ever. The stoic figure who stood in the doorway had looked like a formidable opponent. But the smiling man before her was a devastating one.

Sleek as a shark and likely as lethal, with a smile that begged you to come closer.

“Who are you?”

The words were as effective as the rain at dousing her fancies and she pulled herself from her drifting thoughts. “Isabella Magnini.”

“Dr. Magnini?”

“Yes.”

“The Dr. Magnini who presented at Davos last year?”

“One and the same.”

Liam shook his head once more, his muttered words nearly undetectable as another clap of thunder echoed off the marble entryway. “Wily old bastard.”

“Excuse me?”

“Please, let me take your coat. My grandparents are in their sitting room enjoying a cocktail.”

“I’m so sorry to intrude on your family’s personal time.”

The smile fell, that stoic facade concealing all expression on his face. The slightest lines bracketed his eyes and mouth—faint, yet evident enough to add character—and whatever sarcasm she’d sensed vanished when he finally spoke. “No intrusion at all as I’ve no doubt you were invited this evening.”

“Your grandfather suggested I come. He’s been—” She broke off, not sure how to explain the conversations she’d had to date with Alexander Steele about the strange happenings in her life.

How did one explain the subtle sense of being watched? Or the odd feeling that someone had rifled through your things, even when your clothing and papers and bookshelves remained in perfect order?

Or the very real sense someone had been inside your home?

She fought the shiver that threatened to roll down her spine and focused on the man before her, willing her nerves to calm. “Your grandfather believes he has the resources to help me with a...small matter.”

If he had any question about her hesitation he gave no indication. “May I take your coat?”

Isabella glanced down at the rain-soaked front of her jacket—how had she forgotten it?—and slipped from the garment. The endless days of spring rain had greeted her the moment she’d arrived in London the previous week from New York and she had moments where she’d wondered if she’d ever get dry.

His fingers brushed hers when she passed over her coat and she forced herself to maintain simple, even breaths despite the flare of heat that skittered up her arm. Humans touched. Their bodies came into contact all the time. It was normal. Common, even.

And certainly nothing to dwell on.

She was dimly aware of his gaze before he turned to settle her coat on a hallway stand. That same rush of heat that had run up her arm kept up its assault, crossing her chest before settling in her stomach. With a precision born of long years of practice, she counted off the periodic elements in her head and willed her pulse to calm.

Hydrogen. Helium. Lithium. Bery—

“Let’s go introduce you to my grandparents, then.”

With a soft sigh she followed behind him, the elements fading away like smoke, replaced with decidedly more well-formed thoughts. Like how strong and safe and solid and reassuring those broad shoulders looked under his rain-flecked shirt. And how enticing it would be to simply reach out and touch him.

Stick with the elements, girl.

Men who looked like Liam Steele didn’t look twice at women with wild hair and curvy figures and, in the rare instances where they did, her profession typically ran them off before they could take a third glance.

Or any action at all.

* * *

Wily old bastard.

The thought had run through his mind on a loop since Dr. Isabella Magnini arrived, soaked to the skin, a half hour ago. Liam hadn’t touched the second whiskey his grandfather had poured for him while he’d gone to answer the door, preferring to keep his wits fully about him. The choice was a smart one as it hadn’t taken Alexander Steele long to dive into the matter at hand.

“You need to protect the girl, Liam.”

“Of course we will, Grandfather. That’s what the House of Steele does.” He and his siblings had formed the House of Steele about four years before, their diverse interests and skills a match for a surprising number of in-need individuals and companies. From basic protection to digital forensics to active investigation, he and his siblings had the tools and the talent to fix problems.

While Liam ran the firm with his siblings, there was no mistaking his grandfather’s continued use of the word “you” had a distinctly singular ring to it.

Although it was clear the rain-soaked doctor needed their help, he’d yet to fully understand what her problem was, and his grandfather’s pleading eyes and continued insistence on protection weren’t getting him any closer to figuring it out.

“Why don’t you explain the problem for me, Dr. Magnini?” He’d kept his attitude casual, unwilling to play into Alexander’s hands, but Liam had to admit his gaze had strayed toward the woman a few more times than was comfortable. He had no idea why, but something in her demeanor had drawn his attention.

It certainly wasn’t her clothes.

Her sweater—a rich cashmere that looked like it had been stretched and worried over at the waist until it lost all shape—didn’t do much for her figure, and the wool pants that clung to the bottom of her legs like wet shackles were about as fashionable as a potato sack, but...

His thoughts tapered off as her gaze collided with his.

Those large green eyes blinked in surprise, before she nodded and looked away. “I’ve tried to explain it to your grandfather and not very successfully, I’m afraid. Something’s wrong, even if I can’t define exactly why.”

“Wrong how?”

“Someone’s rifled through my things at work. And I know my notes have been tampered with.” She took a small sip of the water his grandmother had foisted on her earlier before delicately resettling the glass on a small end table. “And I believe someone broke into my home last week when I was at work late.”

“Your home?” Anger coated his throat with raw fire and he suddenly wished for the whiskey he’d spent the last half hour avoiding. “What do you think this person’s after?”

Her slender fingers bunched in the waist of her sweater and Liam saw why the piece of clothing had no shape. “My work. My research.”

“Which revolves around what, exactly?”

“Genetics.”

Liam knew science had its champions and its critics across all branches, but what could she have possibly gotten herself involved with? And when did run-of-the-mill scientists become the object of something dangerous enough to have them seeking help?

“Enough talk for the moment. Let’s go into the dining room and eat. Poor Isabella looks famished.”

Penelope Steele’s words received no argument and he helped his grandmother to her feet. He was startled to see Isabella follow suit with his grandfather, making a show of giving over her arm when Liam knew good and well the motion really helped to steady the older man.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Penelope wasted no time on the observation, her comment uttered the moment the two of them were out of earshot.

He shot his grandmother a sideways eye. “You’re in on this, too?”

“The woman needs help, Liam.”

“No doubt, but the timing of her arrival and Grandfather’s evening lecture were rather curious, don’t you think?”

His grandmother made a show of dusting some non-existent lint from her sweater. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you don’t. You’re the innocent here instead of a ready foil for Grandfather’s machinations.”

“She needs you.”

Liam stared down from where he towered over his petite grandmother in height. There was an urgency underlying her words, but it was the bleak look that creased the tissue-thin skin of her face that pulled him up short.

“We’ll help her, Grandmother. I promise.”

Penelope nodded, then disengaged their arms as Liam pulled out her chair. Her quick glance at the empty doorway had her continuing. “Isabella’s a tough girl. A shockingly brilliant one, too. She spent her late teens with her grandfather after her father was tried as a British traitor about fifteen years ago.”

“Tried for what?”

“He was convicted as a traitor of selling dirty bombs to third-world rebels.”

“And her mother?”

Penelope’s lips pursed tightly together and Liam knew that look didn’t bode well. “She had a mental breakdown after the news of her husband’s activities. She’s spent years in a private facility.”

Isabella and his grandfather came through the door and he ignored the small spear of sympathy attempting to burrow under his breastbone as his gaze took in the pair. He knew what it was like to lose a parent. To lose both parents. And while death wasn’t fair, there was a certain mercy in knowing the loss wasn’t by choice.

“Thank you, dear.” His grandmother patted his arm as she settled her napkin in her lap.

The small gesture was enough to pull him from his strange musings and he moved around the table to help Isabella. A subtle confusion filled her gaze when he pulled her chair back before she readily accepted with a small nod. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Her light scent—a subtle mix of roses and the lingering scent of the rain—sent a quick shot of adrenaline through his system as he pushed in her chair. His stomach clenched on the sensation and he tightened his grip on the back rail to stop the slight trembling in his fingers.

If that madness wasn’t enough, he almost reached for one of the dark, heavy curls that flowed down her back before he caught himself.

The knowing smile on his grandmother’s face was the effective dousing he needed and he stepped away quickly and took his own seat.

The same, self-righteous anger that had carried him through the earlier portion of the evening rose up once again to tighten his throat. He loved his grandparents—knew their bond was closer than most, especially with their hand in raising and caring for him and his siblings after their parents’ unexpected deaths—but that didn’t give them the right to meddle in his life.

He got along just fine by himself. Absolutely fine. And no amount of interference from his family was going to change his mind.

Satisfied he’d worked through that moment of ridiculous fancy that had gripped him, Liam refocused on Isabella through clear eyes. The good doctor was in trouble, she had a heap of baggage—both current and past—bogging her down and she dressed like a woman who attempted to hide herself. None of those things, however, were reason to assume she’d be the target of some sort of attack.

He waited until their first course of soup had been laid down and his grandparents’ cook, Seamus, had returned to the kitchen before pressing the issue. “Why do you think someone’s after your research?”

“Because she’s the best in her field.” His grandfather’s resounding retort came barreling across the table.

“I’m acquainted with Dr. Magnini’s reputation, Grandfather, but that doesn’t explain why someone would want to hurt her or break into her home. Last time I checked, scientists weren’t very visible targets.”

“My research is somewhat controversial.” Isabella laid down her soup spoon, a small spark flaring to life in the depths of her moss-green gaze. “And it’s very visible to those who are interested in what I do for a living.”

Aha, so the good doctor did have a backbone. And a stubborn streak of pride to boot.

Liam warmed to the evidence of both as he leaned forward. “Then tell me what it is about this specific research that would put you in the crosshairs.”

“My work is about remapping aspects of the human genome.”

Liam didn’t miss the contrast of her stiff shoulders with the lush, almost wild hair that ran down her back or the steady flame that still lit her gaze. Dr. Magnini was a study in contrasts and he suspected there was more heat and passion underneath that oversize sweater and shapeless slacks than even she knew herself. “The field’s grown and expanded for several years. Why is your research any different?”

“Because if my sequencing efforts are correct, I’ve found the genes that affect aggression, reason and logic.”

“Sound research, to be sure, but I still don’t understand why that puts you in harm’s way.”

Her shoulders grew even stiffer, if that were possible, and her voice lowered to a breathy whisper. “Because if what I’ve uncovered is correct, we now have the power to create a race of super soldiers. Indefatigable instruments of war.”

Chapter 2

Isabella waited for some response, the silence around the table even more intimidating than the entire exercise of coming to Alexander Steele’s home.

Why had she come here?

And why had she exposed herself to the censure and dismay that would inevitably come once these kind people understood to what she’d devoted her life?

She hadn’t intended her work to go so far—or to have such far-reaching global implications. All she’d wanted to do was understand where she came from. A father with no moral center and a mother who was functionally unable to handle what life dished out.

And then there was her own questionable life, Isabella thought ruefully. She had a sound mind and moral certitude in spades, yet still she pushed herself and her research each and every day until her eyes blurred. Pressing herself on, desperate for the answer to one simple question.

Why?

Why had her father used his gifts for ill? Why was her mother unable to care for her? And why had she been given this driving need to answer those questions?

The joke was on her, Isabella now knew.

In her rush for answers, she’d never fully grasped what her research might suggest to others. Those without any moral certitude who, instead, believed that “might was right” and the ability to win at all costs was all that mattered.

That was why she had to bring her research to life in her own way. She needed to go on record and state why her work shouldn’t be abused. Why humans shouldn’t become guinea pigs for someone else’s soulless ambitions.

“How would you propose to do that, dear?” Penelope’s gaze had remained warm and kind—an altogether unexpected response at the evidence she had the scientific equivalent of Dr. Frankenstein at her dining room table—and Isabella stayed still for a moment, caught up in the warmth.

Had another nurturing female ever looked at her that way? Even when her mother was functioning, she’d always had a vapid sense of responsibility.

If she wanted an extra cookie, her mother never even offered up a token protest. If she wanted to stay up reading until three, with the clear consequence of being unable to stay awake the next day, no one was there to argue with her. And if she even attempted to discuss what had happened at school—from a perfect grade to a bullying incident in the lunchroom—her mother simply dismissed it all with a wave of her hand.

“The original purpose of my research was to understand our psychological functioning better.”

“Nature versus nurture?” Penelope’s gaze remained steady and warm.

“Yes, but more. There are those who are simply unable to handle the stresses of the world around them. I thought—” she broke off, knowing the truth was much too close to the surface. “Well, let’s say I’ve been searching for the key that can unlock the pain far too many live with.”

When no one offered any further comment, Isabella tried to further defend her actions. “I recognize the same challenges I’m looking to eradicate are the very tools others could use to turn individuals into soulless agents on their behalf. It’s why I’ve been working through a solution to manage my work responsibly.”

“Why not simply stop the research?” Liam’s gaze was intent on hers across the table. “When you understood the depths of what you had, why not simply stop? That sounds like a damn effective solution to me.”

“I didn’t know what I had. Not as a weapon, at least. I thought my research would help us better understand those humans who choose to live outside the fringes. It’s—” She broke off, the excuse flimsy and rather useless. She was responsible for her own actions—her own research—and blaming others for the potential they saw in it was equally flimsy and useless.

“I didn’t intend my research to be applied in this fashion, but now that I’ve received clear feedback that will be its intent, I have a responsibility to press for responsible use. I’ve already published my preliminary research.”

“Isn’t that standard in your field?” Liam’s vivid blue gaze never wavered.

“Presenting research is, yes. It’s expected, even. But I was perhaps a bit too—” she broke off, struggling for the right words. “I was hasty in my speed to publish. So now I’ve got a second article in development with the same journal. The publisher has made arrangements to cross-publish the implications of my findings with the New York Times. The public needs to know what I’m sitting on.”

“And you had no idea it would come to this?” Liam’s gaze stayed direct, but she saw something behind those magnetic blue eyes—whether it was censure or understanding she had no idea—but there was something behind his words.

“Why would she know that?” Alexander demanded, his loud voice and hard fist to the table effectively ending the moment. “You know as well as I do no one has a crystal ball.”

“I understand that, Grandfather.” Liam’s words were measured and, although directed toward Alexander, his gaze never left her own. “What I’d like to understand is if Dr. Magnini really thinks this little exercise of cleansing her guilt with the press will stop her from later selling her research to the highest bidder.”

“Of course I don’t think this absolves me of guilt. But I do believe it’s the right thing to do.”

His voice dropped, the tone velvety smooth. “Or perhaps, Isabella, you’re biding your time before simply selling it to your employer?”

She shook her head, fighting the rising indignation that had her feet itching to race for the door. Liam’s questions—no matter how directly asked—were nothing compared to what she’d receive from the press and public so she’d better learn to handle it. “I own all my research. I’m not beholden to anyone.”

His eyebrows shot up at that one, the first look of genuine surprise she’d seen. “How’d you swing that?”

“I had a benefactor.”

“And they don’t want a piece of the action?”

“Dr. Stephenson is dead. He was my professor—mentor really—in graduate school. The funding was his final gift to me.”

Isabella knew she was beyond fortunate for the gift Daniel had bestowed on her. His research had contributed heavily to the field and his own personal wealth had funded much of what he’d worked on. He’d believed in her and believed she’d carry on his legacy, advancing the science to new heights.

And how had she repaid him?

By publishing her results to the entire scientific community.

Her vanity had brought the wolf to her door. And she hoped like hell Liam Steele would know how to keep him at bay.

* * *

Liam swirled the whiskey in his glass, the late hour ensuring he’d be escorting Dr. Isabella Magnini home in a taxi. A steady layer of ire had coated his throat since dinner and no amount of coffee or the stronger nightcap could do anything to assuage it.

What the hell was she thinking?

And even as the judgmental thoughts crowded his mind he pulled himself back.

He was the last person who should judge. His choices—misguided and full of his own foolish vanity—had resulted in far more heartache and pain than he could have ever imagined.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, his sister’s name on the readout. “Kenzi. Prompt and efficient as always.”

“Excellent. I can see by your nasty and condescending tone Grandfather convinced you to take on Dr. Magnini’s situation.”

“You knew damn well he would.”

“And you knew damn well you would, too.”

He sighed, the stiff set of his shoulders relaxing slightly. Whatever else she was—and royal pain in the ass frequently sat on the top of the list—his sister had his back. She also understood him, likely better than any other member of his family. “She’s in deep, Kenz.”

The tart lemons faded from her voice and underneath the professionalism he heard the camaraderie they’d shared since they were small. “Grandfather knows she needs help and I’d wager he didn’t have all the specifics when he not so gently encouraged us to take this job.”

“Or more likely chose not to share them.” He caught her up quickly on what he’d gleaned at dinner—both the information Isabella shared as well as his overarching suspicions about her situation—before going in for the kill. “She’s got some serious research on her side. Thinks that’s the reason people are after her.”

“You think she’s legit? Grandfather’s got an eagle eye but even he can get rusty from time to time.” Kensington broke off, the line going quiet, before she continued. “I looked into her background.”

Liam knew the circumstances of her father’s downfall would have pinged for Kensington almost immediately so it was some surprise when a ready defense leapt to his lips. “She shared her background with us already and made no attempt to hide who her father was.”

“He’s a nasty piece of work.” The sound of light tapping on her keyboard had a small smile curving his lips. Whatever else she was—nearly all of it good—his sister was a dog with a bone when it came to information. “I’m sending you what I’ve found. Check your email.”

“Aye aye.” The faint beep alerted him the message had arrived.

“Liam—”

His sister hesitated, very un-Kenzi-like. That silence did more to catch his attention than the loudest shout. “What is it?”

“This isn’t a joke. She’s going to have problems. Serious ones, if her father’s any indication. Add on how she’s chosen to build her career and you’ve got someone whose choices are very personal.”

“Isn’t that the very definition of the choices we make for ourselves?” Liam wasn’t sure why—first his grandparents and now his sister—but where he normally let things slide off, something in her words lodged in his gut. So the good doctor had something of an ax to grind in her rush to get over her past. Until she’d made the monumental mistake of making the information public, she was well within her rights to figure out where she came from however the hell she pleased.

“Just be careful of her motivations.”

“You can stop your worrying. She appears normal enough, for a poorly dressed scientist who seems somewhat oblivious to the world around her.”

An image of the woman standing on his grandparents’ front stoop leaped into his thoughts, a slightly manic look in her eyes as she spun toward him with her wet umbrella. The mania that filled the deep green of her eyes did battle with what could only be described as an absent-minded quirk of her eyebrows.

“You sure did notice a lot for an hour’s visit.”

The impression in his mind of those vivid green eyes faded as he keyed back into all the things Kensington wasn’t saying. “That’s my job.”

“And I’m doing mine. Look at the file and let me know your impressions. Anything else you want me to dig into, just let me know.”

“Got it.”

“Give Grandfather and Grandmother a kiss for me. I’ll talk to Grandfather in the morning.”

“You always do.” An image of her sister’s daily conversation over oatmeal and blueberries with Alexander filled his thoughts and he sought to lighten the mood he’d managed to weigh down. “Maybe you can break with tradition tomorrow and toss a few raspberries in your oatmeal. You know. Shake it up a little.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.” He didn’t quite get a laugh, but he did hear the smile through the three thousand miles that separated them.

They disconnected and Liam took a few minutes to skim through Kenzi’s email. He’d spend more time with it later, but the base facts matched what he’d gleaned at dinner.

She’s going to have problems. Serious ones, if her father’s any indication.

Liam read through the list of her father’s grievances—spying and treason the least of his offenses—and fought another roll of judgment as he imagined the power of Isabella’s research.

And the danger that would be unleashed if it got into the wrong hands.

He had to help her. It’s what they did with the House of Steele.

And maybe, just maybe, if he found a way to fix Dr. Magnini’s problems he might gain some salvation from his own.

* * *

Penelope Steele patted the foil into place around some of Seamus’s famous chocolate chip cookies. They were her grandson Campbell’s favorite, but the rest of her grandchildren had eaten more than their fair share through the years. She’d tried repeatedly to replicate the recipe, but had never found a way to get the proper mixture of gooey chocolate chips and rich, vanilla-tinged dough.

So she’d left Seamus to his expertise and had honed hers to a sharp point.

“You don’t need to do this, Mrs. Steele. Dinner was a feast.”

“Nonsense. A little sweet after the interrogation you received this evening is only fair.”

“Your family’s taking on my...circumstances. They deserve to have their questions answered.”

“Yes, well, my grandchildren sometimes need to realize when a job is more than a job. I know you don’t know us, Isabella, or have any reason to trust us. But Alex and I have known your grandparents for years. We want what’s best for you.”

The young woman blinked, the words an obvious surprise. “Thank you.”

“I mean it. Your grandfather has kept us updated on your work through the years. He’s so proud of what you’ve accomplished.” Penelope laid it on with a trowel, pleased to see Isabella’s stiff, stoic demeanor fade as talk shifted to her grandfather.

“He’s been so supportive. So understanding.”

Penelope heard the “but” underneath Isabella’s words, but stayed silent, allowing her to work it through. It was the single biggest difference between her and Alexander. Her husband wanted to bully the answer out of people and she was content to wait and let it come.

And if she’d read Isabella Magnini correctly, the dam was near to cracking straight down the center.

“I didn’t mean—” Isabella broke off on a hard exhale. “I didn’t mean for it to come to this. To create work that others could abuse.”

Penelope smoothed a corner of the foil-wrapped cookies and waited. She’d sensed a fire and spirit inside the girl—knew it was there from her grandfather’s description—and knew the moment her patience was rewarded.

“It’s groundbreaking work. Amazing work that can help us with all sorts of illnesses.” Passion flared in Isabella’s voice, blazing through the kitchen in a rush. “We can fix people. Help them. Heal the pain they’re born with to keep them from hurting others.”

Ah, there it is, Penelope mused. “That’s what makes your work different. Special. Worthwhile.”

“Not if it’s abused as I’ve come to realize it will be.”

“You want to heal.” She laid a hand over Isabella’s. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“But what if I’ve created the ability to destroy instead. Then I’d be no better than my father.”

“You were better than your father the moment you decided the course of your work was to help others, not profit from them.”

“I used to believe that. Wanted to believe that. But now I don’t know.”

Penelope squeezed the stiff fingers beneath hers. “The fact you can ask that question is reason enough to believe.”

* * *

Isabella stared at the rain-slicked streets from the protection of the cab and watched London pass by. Penelope Steele’s kind words had gone a long way toward offering a port in the storm, but she still couldn’t fully escape her thoughts. Or the ready belief she was completely responsible for the circumstances she found herself in.

Pushing it into a mental corner for further reflection later, she focused on what she could control. She’d already packed for her flight in the morning and had given Liam the details he’d need to contact her once they were both back in the United States. All she really needed to do was follow his directions and all would be well.

It had to be.

He shifted and although there was space between them on the cab’s back bench seat, she couldn’t shake how overwhelming it was to sit next to him.

He was a tall man—well over six feet—and his frame was larger than he appeared on first inspection. He had a trim litheness to him that belied how solid he was and her gaze kept straying to his profile, highlighted by the glow of his phone.

Like a loop she couldn’t break herself out of, her gaze traveled, first over the solid planes of his face, along the length of his jaw and over his Adam’s apple, then over the fine cut of his raincoat. She followed the lines of the material, then along the black slacks stretched taut over his thighs. She stopped there—lingered, really—and her thoughts turned to more interesting dimensions every time she imagined what lay beneath that fine cut of material.

He had a refined, sexy masculinity that made her fingers itch to explore the skin underneath. And as a woman who’d spent her life around men who placed more value on what was inside their head than the capability of their bodies, she couldn’t hold back the sheer feminine appreciation for Liam Steele’s form.

Focus, Isabella. Keep your focus.

Of course, keeping focus meant she had to think about the very reason why she was sitting in the back of a cab, driving through the rain-soaked London streets next to Liam Steele. Focus meant she had to think about flying alone back to New York and revisiting her Chelsea apartment. What was once her haven had become tainted with the very real stain of fear.

And focus meant she had to spend some time considering her options. The next few weeks would take all her energy, but after the fervor of her work was made public, she had to decide what to do with the rest of her life.

She wanted to continue her research—wanted to continue learning about the scientific mysteries that lived inside her own skin—but the implications of what she’d discovered had weighed heavily.

Too heavily, at times.

“My sister has arranged for an escort for you from the airport to your apartment. I’m taking you to Heathrow myself.”

A protest sprang to her lips but Liam cut her off before she could say much. “Your escort is ex-military and armed to the teeth. He’ll make sure your apartment is safe and will also check for bugs.”

“It can’t be that bad.” Even if she’d lain awake for the last three nights in her London hotel room worried that it was, in fact, that bad.

Liam’s subtle frown was all she got in reaction before he shoved his phone into an inside pocket of his coat and turned his full attention on her. “How much research do you keep at home?”

Isabella fought the jitters that leaped through her stomach like hummingbirds as those liquid blue eyes—clearly visible even in the darkness of the cab—lasered in on her. “Minimal. More notes than anything else. Everything of value is on small drives in various safe deposit boxes and my computer that’s always on me.”

“I haven’t seen a computer.”

She smiled—her first easy one since climbing into the cab. “You’ve somehow missed my oversize purse that could carry a set of triplets?”

“I’ve got sisters.” A sweet little twinkle lit up that gaze and she took her first easy breath. “To be honest, I assumed it was simply a purse that could carry a set of triplets.”

“Yes, well, the only triplets I carry are my laptop and two tablets.” She patted the large leather purse on her lap. “They’re heavy enough.”

“My brother’s going to light up like Christmas when he hears that.”

“I’m sorry?”

The smile hovered but his tone changed—grew more conversational and, well, human—when he spoke. “My brother, Campbell, is our family computer wiz. It’s also what he does for the business. Other than his wife and the other computer geeks he occasionally spends time with, I’m not sure he knows anyone who is that well-outfitted with technology.”

“Occupational hazard. Plus, it keeps—” The words faded as she realized what she was about to admit. A man like Liam Steele likely had no idea what it was like to sit alone for hours on end, thoughts raging through your mind like a firestorm with no one to share them with and no way to quiet the melee. One tablet kept her research and the other was purely for entertainment.

“It keeps what?”

“Oh, nothing, really. Just a silly thing.”

“You sure? Because I thought you were about to tell me you cracked the code on the latest version of Jewel Crush in which case, I’d be honor-bound to kidnap you and drag you to the House of Steele all on my own.”

How’d he know that? And why did a decidedly naughty lick of heat just whip through her belly at the image of being thrown over Liam Steele’s shoulder like a pirate’s spoils? “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because you’re likely the only person who can beat my sister Rowan and if she knew there was someone who had the secret to the next level she’d never stop hounding me if I didn’t produce them. I swear, she’s obsessed.”

“I enjoy games as a diversion. They let me relax and allow whatever problem I’m working on to float to the back of my subconscious for a while.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

The ready acceptance before he shifted his attention toward their driver, directing the man toward the turn-off for her hotel, gave her the few moments she needed to collect her thoughts.

For years, she’d heard so many things about Alexander Steele’s grandchildren through her grandfather that Isabella realized she’d begun to think of them in near-mythic proportions.

But maybe they were just regular people.

She’d almost convinced herself until Liam turned toward her, those blue eyes blazing once more. “You coming?”

“Of...of course.” She hated the stammer but quickly slid across the seat. The rain had died down to a gentle mist and it coated her immediately, a cooling balm to her heated skin.

She followed him toward the revolving doors of the hotel and nearly stumbled into him when he stopped to gesture her ahead. “Steady, Isabella.” His hand snaked out and steadied her, holding her still for a moment.

“I’m fine.”

“All evidence to the contrary.”

Again, she fought the tug of those deep blue eyes and wondered how he did it. Liam Steele was just a man, nothing more. Yet he somehow managed to make her forget herself.

Made her wish for things she couldn’t have.

With that thought foremost in her mind, she stepped through the revolving door, using the few precious seconds as she walked through to center herself. He didn’t need to see her to her room. He hadn’t needed to even see her this far.

“Thanks for seeing me back. I’ll be fine the rest of the way.”

“Orders are orders. You’re under my watch now and I’ll see you upstairs.”

“It’s not necessary.”

His large hand settled at the base of her spine as he guided her toward the elevators. “If you won’t humor me, please humor my grandfather. I’d hate to have to call him and tell him you’re being uncooperative.”

“I’m no such thing!” She lowered her voice, the ricochet of her protest still echoing off the mirrored walls of their elevator car. “I’m just trying to save you a trip. I’m perfectly fine. This is a nice hotel and I left the Do Not Disturb sign up.”

That sly smile curved his firm lips and she couldn’t stop the sensation—yet again—of feeling as off-kilter as a brand new colt. “Then I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. This is simply a routine check so my mind can be at ease.”

“You’re not funny.”

He tilted his head as the elevator pinged for their floor. “And you are. Sweetly so. I didn’t expect that.”

“I’m—” She broke off as a couple greeted them from the other side of the doors. She could argue with Liam Steele later. Or, Isabella knew, not at all now that she had time to reconsider her actions.

The man had the upper hand, that’s all there was to it. If she was going to retain any sense of sanity she’d do well to accept that and go along for the ride.

Her room was a short distance from the elevator and she had her key out, the lock turning green in mere seconds. It was only when she pushed through the door, intent on saying goodbye to Liam as quickly as possible that she stopped, a cold wash of awareness slithering across her skin.

“What is it?” Liam flipped on the light.

She glanced around the room, the soft light doing nothing to assuage her panic. Instead, she only felt it ratchet up another notch as she carefully ticked off the various quadrants of the room.

Bed. Dresser. End table.

All appeared to be in order, nothing out of place.

But even as her vision filled with the signs that nothing had been disturbed, she knew better.

“Someone’s been here. Inside my room.”

Chapter 3

“Here?”

Liam reached for Isabella, pulling her toward him as the blood drained from her face, leaving nothing but a milky white pallor over her skin. A subtle shake gripped her, the vibration of her body evident even through her layers of clothing.

Although he didn’t doubt her, the small room was empty now, the limited space leaving nowhere to hide. Whoever had been here was long gone. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Liam pulled her forward toward one of the two double beds and settled her on the thick duvet. “Sit here. I’m going to do a quick sweep.”

He crossed to the entry of the bathroom, the small cubicle obviously empty, but he flipped on the lights all the same and checked behind the shower curtain. “All clear.”

The words were clearly of little solace as he caught sight of her huddled form when he stepped back into the room. Her eyes were bright orbs of green that took up almost half her face and that ghostly pallor still tinged her cheeks. “No one’s here.”

“They were here.”

Liam fought the protest that sprang to his lips and searched the room himself. The neat, military smoothness of the covers appeared undisturbed. A small stack of leather-bound folios sat on the desk, perpendicular to the edge and layered one on top of the other with neat efficiency. Even the TV remote edged the end table with a precise lay-down against the lamp. Nothing looked disturbed.

“Why do you think someone was here?”

“I know it.”

“Housekeeping.”

She shook her head. “No. They’d already come and gone before I left for your grandparents.”

“I’m sorry but I need a bit more. What set you off?”

He sat down next to Isabella, trying to make sense of her reaction. The woman appeared stable—and his grandfather’s endorsement of the same went a long way toward keeping Liam from second-guessing her—but the room looked as if no one had touched it since housekeeping. Was she imagining the threat against her?

“The curtains are off.”

“Where?” He crossed to the hanging drapes, the city visible through a veil of rain outside the window. He saw the London Eye in the distance, the lights of its bright wheel like diamonds in the wet mist, and wondered what Isabella could possibly be seeing.

“There. Where the edge hangs open. It was flush against my suitcase when I left.”

Liam didn’t touch the curtain, instead taking in her description. “And before?”

She got off the bed, her pallor fading as she took stock of her surroundings. She pointed toward her small black suitcase before brushing her fingers over the handle. “When I left, I settled my luggage against the wall, the edge lined up to the curtain. Look at it now. The drape hangs over the edge of my bag.”

Liam crouched down, and saw how the curtain hung over the edge of her small suitcase. “You’re sure?”

“Of course.” A small sigh drifted from her lips before she crouched down next to him, her fingers brushing the edge of the curtain. “I’m precise that way. I like things to line up. I know how I left it and that’s not how it is now.”

“Anything else?”

She got back to her feet and pointed toward the top of the suitcase. “The zippers aren’t lined up. I always put them in the center. Those are off. I’m—”

“You’re what.”

“I like order. It’s silly, I know, but they’re small things that comfort me.”

He knew about order. And the desperate need for it that formed from the midst of chaos. Her light scent filled his nose once more, that subtle blend of roses wafting from her skin, and Liam tried desperately to keep his wits about him.

Roses were for women his grandmother’s age. Women who perfumed themselves in tepid fragrances that were safe and watered down.

So why did the scent seem exotic and highly erotic as it drifted from her heated skin?

Liam ignored that subtle tug of attraction and got to his feet, pulling out his phone. His brother’s voice filled his ear a few moments later. “Twice in one night. First Kenzi and now me. What’s going on, O Silent One?”

“I need you to hack into a few video cameras for me.”

Campbell snorted. “Sure. Cuz it’s that easy.”

“For you it is.” Liam gave his brother a quick rundown of what they’d discovered upon their arrival and Isabella’s conviction someone had been in her room.

“That’s a nice hotel. It’s not like anyone can walk up and sneak into a room. It’s a pretty locked-down environment.”

“Which is why you’re going to hack it.” Liam knew barely enough to be dangerous when it came to computers but his brother, on the other hand...

Liam had learned long ago to leverage Campbell’s skills and not ask questions.

“What time do you think it happened?”

“Between six and ten tonight.”

The light tapping of keys along with a few muttered curse words gave Liam the confidence to end the call. “Be quick. If you work through dinner Abby’ll have my ass.”

“Then it’s lucky for you I’m damn good at what I do.”

“You’re in already?”

“No, but close. Leave there and take her to the grandparents. I’ll call you later.”

“I can’t take her there. They’re worried enough.”

“Then take her to that new, fancy flat you bought.”

Liam held back the shocked “Hell no” and instead opted for something a bit more diplomatic. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Campbell let out a long, low whistle. “She must be something special if you’re afraid to take her home.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Big Brother. Keep telling yourself that.”

* * *

Isabella glanced around the impressive apartment and marveled that Liam Steele lived here. She’d understood him to be New York-based so the fact that he kept a London flat—and flat really was too simple a word for the floor-to-ceiling windows and what had to be about two thousand square feet—but she chalked it up to family money and success in a highly paid profession.

“I thought you lived in New York.”

“I do. I just live here, too. I bought the place in January. I spend a lot of time here in London and it seemed wiser than throwing my money away on hotels.”

“I’m sure your grandparents would love to have you.”

Despite the lingering fear that hadn’t fully left her since leaving her hotel, she couldn’t hold back the smile at the mixture of shock and—if she weren’t mistaken, subtle horror—that tensed Liam’s jaw.

Keeping her amusement to herself, her gaze drifted back to the view, the depth of the Steele wealth not lost on her. She knew she was fortunate—she paid her bills and still afforded a nice apartment by New York standards—but none of it changed the fact she lived in the human equivalent of a nice shoe box and he...didn’t.

Isabella saw Liam move closer through the reflection in the glass. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, thank you. I had enough at dinner.”

“Something hot, then? Tea?”

The traditionally British offering felt like the right thing and she turned away from the window. “That sounds nice.”

The tea was nice and ten minutes later, when he placed a mug in front of her and settled another for himself, she couldn’t hold back the subtle surprise. “I didn’t take you for the tea type.”

“And I didn’t take you for the type to gather the interest of some very nasty people. We’re all full of surprises.”

“I suppose we are.”

Her hands fumbled in the waistband of her sweater and she worried the cashmere between her fingers. The gesture was silly—and far from comforting—but she kept up anyway.

“You can relax here. No one’s going to hurt you.”

“That’s what I thought about the hotel.”

“They’re not going to hurt you here.”

His tone brooked no argument and she reached for her tea once more, warming her hands on the mug. “I never thought it would come to this.”

He hesitated, which was another surprise as she sat there, taking in the solid lines of his face. Whatever else Liam Steele might be, he seemed to have no issue with being direct. The fact that hard jaw stayed closed added another layer of tension to the discussion.

“Come out with it. You can’t insult me.”

“How couldn’t you think it would come to this? You’ve discovered something of deep value.”

“To me, yes.”

“To everyone.” His blue eyes glittered under the overhead light of the kitchen, alive with a subtle fire. “Everyone wants to understand where they come from. How they’re wired. Usually because they’d like to change it. That opportunity has always been walled off—locked up as it were—yet you’ve found the key. How can you honestly sit there and think no one else would care?”

His words were like an ice pick at her conscience, stabbing at the guilt that already consumed her.

“I didn’t know.”

“You do now.”

* * *

The small penlight swept side to side through the apartment, highlighting stacks of books, overflowing bookshelves and a neat—and empty—fish tank. She’d told him once she kept the empty fish tank as a reminder not to get any fish because she was so absent-minded she’d likely forget to feed them. He’d laughed at the time and they’d traded stories about living inside their heads, but he couldn’t help but see the irony of it now.

Science was all they had. Their only companion when even having fish was too much effort.

A stack of file folders on a credenza caught his attention and he followed the small stream of light to the neat, but towering, stack of manila folders. With careful precision, he flipped through them, taking in her scrawled handwriting as he went.

If the handwriting was an impatient mess, the notes were the antithesis. Page after meticulous page detailed her findings. Her successes and failures. All her learnings from the lab.

His gaze caught on a set of notes in the tenth file he flipped through. The date matched the basic time frame of her discovery and detailed the gene sequence she’d isolated for further investigation.

He took a seat at her desk and flipped through the rest of the notes, the lab findings reading like a symphony in his mind. Cellular research. Dissection of tissue samples. Gene sequencing. It was all there, detail after detail of what she’d uncovered. Questions littered the margins and the increasing scrawl of the notes indicated her excitement as clearly as if he were standing next to her.

She’d done it. Figured out the secret to what made humans tick. And with that knowledge, had figured out how to augment that to gain a specific result.

A wash of pride flashed through him, flushing his skin with heat. He was so proud of her and what she’d accomplished. He’d always known her gifts—the brilliant mind, the active curiosity and the tenacity to keep working a puzzle until she solved it—but this was more than he could have ever hoped for.

His gaze skimmed the last set of papers in the file, stopping on a small note at the bottom of the page. It was a name and a phone number he recognized—the editor of one of the most respected scientific journals in the world. Along with the name there was a quick notation:

Confirm Bradley’s understanding on gene sequence and his impressions of the work.

The article she’d ultimately published had held back a few details, promising further articulation in an upcoming issue.

He’d suspected she’d shared the details—or was going to—and now he had the proof. The details he and his partner were committed to keeping from the world were in the hands of the reporter.

No matter how much it pained him to consider snuffing out such a bright talent, they couldn’t stop now.

With efficient movements—something that would never grow old—he reordered the files, securing them in the neat stack she preferred, then slipped back through the oversize room and out into the hall.

A hard-won lesson clamored through his mind, his partner’s voice echoing like church bells.

If you want to make an omelet, you’ve got to break some eggs.

He understood. He’d made a commitment to his goal. And, like Isabella, science was all he had.

And if a sharp pain speared his heart as he walked away from her apartment, well, he’d have to live with that as his penance.

* * *

Isabella stared out the wall of windows in Liam’s apartment, her gaze captivated by the rain-washed city. She’d always loved London and now wondered why she hadn’t spent more time here. More time with her grandfather. More time living life outside of a laboratory.

She hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on such fanciful thoughts before, but now? They seemed more present. More urgent.

Especially when she might not get the chance again.

A hard sob caught in her throat as she thought of her grandfather. The urge to call him was great, but she had held back, taking the Steeles’ advice. Both Liam and Alexander had assured her repeatedly the night before that her grandfather was safe—ensconced on Steele property in the wilds of England at the insistent invitation of Liam’s grandmother—but they also had warned her not to give him too many indicators of what was going on.

No use worrying him.

He already worried enough, she well knew. It wasn’t only her life that had changed with her father’s betrayal. Roberto Magnini had also borne the pain of watching his son’s disgrace.

How horrified he’d be, then, when he discovered the implications of her work. The risks she’d brought to their door and the potential horrors she’d unleashed on the world.

It was funny, she mused, how even though her intentions were better, the outcome wasn’t that far off from her father’s.

“It’s late.”

The deep voice called to her across the large living room and Isabella turned from the windows, her maudlin thoughts dissipating like smoke.

She thought she was prepared for the sight of Liam by now. The broad shoulders, trim waist and magnetic blue eyes had captivated her from the first but she thought she could deal with them. How humbling, then, to find out that she was just as devastated as before.

And just as curious to know what it would be like to run her palms over those broad shoulders. To drift a lazy finger over the hard lines of his jaw. To press her body against his and feel all that power and strength wrap around her.

Possess her.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Her words sounded strained to her own ears but there was nothing to be done for it. She could only hope he mistook the slightly strangled tones of her vocal chords for fear instead of bone-deep arousal.

“I was unduly harsh earlier.”

“You were honest. There’s a difference.”

He cocked his head and she had the subtle impression he weighed his words. “Most women aren’t so quick to release a grudge.”

“You’re assuming I was holding one.”

“What else had the pensive stare out the window?”

“I was thinking about my grandfather.”

He moved forward at that, coming to stop before her. “I promise you we have him safe. I had the security arranged myself and my grandparents are joining him for the weekend to keep him company. You don’t need to worry about him. Not on top of everything else.”

Although his promises couldn’t change the reality of how little of her adult life she’d spent with her grandfather, they did go a long way toward assuaging her concern. “Thank you. He’ll enjoy that. He still misses my grandmother terribly and the company will be good for him.”

The moments drifted from quiet to awkward as they both stood there. “Your home is beautiful.”

“I haven’t been in it that long. I’m still trying to get over the sense that it’s temporary.”

“The occupational hazards of being a rolling stone.” She meant the statement as a joke but knew immediately her words had fallen flat.

“You sound like every other woman in my life.”

“I didn’t mean it was a bad thing. You have a life and are living it. I’m no one to judge.”

“My grandmother and sisters don’t feel quite the same way.”

Since standing in the middle of his living room had passed awkward and had moved right on to deeply uncomfortable, she took a seat. Two overstuffed leather club chairs formed a conversation circle with an equally large and overstuffed leather couch and she was grateful for the thick cushions and a soft place to land.

Their conversation might be painfully awkward but at least she’d be physically comfortable while having it.

“So have a seat on the couch and tell me all about it.”

The joke was just enough to lighten the mood and she didn’t miss Liam’s rueful smile as he took a seat—fully upright—on the couch. “I thought your degree was in scientific matters, Dr. Magnini.”

“I’ve spent enough of my life with shrinks to know a few tricks or two.”

Damn it. Why had she mentioned psychiatrists?

It would be too easy to blame the simple camaraderie and warmth of the moment but she suspected her motives went deeper. For reasons she couldn’t define, she felt the need to expose who she was to Liam Steele. Was it so he could reject her outright?

Or so she could prove to herself—once and for all—a man like Liam Steele would never be a part of her life?

* * *

Liam knew he was a heartless bastard about a lot of things, but he’d always believed himself open and honest about the challenges of life.

So why did that light flush that colored Isabella’s cheeks suggest she was embarrassed by seeking professional help?

“I’ve spent some time on the doctor’s couch, myself.”

“You have?”

“All my siblings did. Our grandparents insisted on it after we lost my parents.” When skepticism continued to hover behind the moss green of her eyes he pushed a bit harder. “You look like you don’t believe me.”

“You don’t seem the type.”

“And what’s the type?” He couldn’t resist poking her a bit at her ready attempts to stereotype. Even if he had more than a few of his own.

He’d already painted her as the geeky scientist in his mind and it was increasingly difficult to keep that stereotype front and center in his thoughts as he stared at her lush, pouty lips and the thick fall of hair around her shoulders.

“I don’t know. You just seem so solid. Powerful.”

That flush deepened and he leaned forward, his gaze unwavering on hers. “Being strong doesn’t mean you have no vulnerabilities. It simply means you understand how to work around them. Live with them and accept they’re a part of you.”

“You make it sound easy.”

He sat back at that, half-serious and half-amused at their 2:00 a.m. philosophy session. “Some days. The good days. Other times? Not so much.”

“You really expect me to believe you’re a mere mortal?”

Liam knew her words for the light tease they were, but couldn’t fully quell the slight itch at the base of his neck. Without warning, memories of a conversation with his sister, Rowan, a few months before, prickled his subconscious.

At the time, Rowan had suggested he hadn’t understood how hard it had been for her to deal with the loss of their parents. As if her age or sex somehow made the pain more difficult for her to bear.

He’d shrugged it off—thought he’d fully forgotten it—so it was a surprise to realize yet again that the impression he created in others was so far from how he saw himself.

He knew he kept others at arm’s length—a lifelong trait, not one initiated by the loss of his parents. He’d simply honed it to a fine point after they were gone.

None of it meant he didn’t feel. Or care. Or live with loss.

“I’m as human as the next person. I suggest you remember that.”

“I’ll try.”

Whatever tender moments they’d shared vanished as he stood. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He was across the room before she spoke. “Liam, I am sorry.”

Curious, he turned. She stood in the middle of his home, the ambient glow of London haloing around her. “For what?”

“For dragging you into this.”

“It’s what I do.”

“You protect people who deserve it. I know you believe I don’t based on what I’ve done, but I hope you’ll come to understand I never meant for any of this to happen.”

He took a few steps toward her before he stopped. He knew she was scared—knew it from the first moment he saw her on the other side of his grandparents’ front door—yet he couldn’t quite get past his irritation at the situation she found herself in.

“Actions and consequences, Dr. Magnini. That’s what we’re dealing with.”

Without waiting for her reply, he continued on to his room.

* * *

Liam slammed his clothes into his overnight case with all the finesse of a grizzly bear searching for breakfast. He’d slept little, that bleak expression that rode Isabella’s face like a sad mask haunting him through the night.

He had no right to judge her.

No right at all.

She was scared and she hadn’t acted deliberately. So why had he been so resolute in keeping her at arm’s length? And why was he so determined to make her feel the pain of her choices?

The packing done, he dragged on the last zipper and heaved the suitcase off his bed. It was time to go eat a rather large plate of crow.

He walked into the main living room and heard the pop of the toaster and smelled the coffee as he settled his suitcase by the door. “That smells good.”

“I hope you don’t mind.” Isabella shrugged from behind the large island that dominated his kitchen. “I’m not one to skip meals.”

“Of course I don’t mind. I’m glad you found something.”

The stilted conversation stuck in his throat and he walked to the single-brew coffee machine and set up an extra dark roast he hoped would do something for his mood.

“What happens once we get back to New York?”

Her words were quiet but there was no mistaking the apprehension laced underneath. That fact was even more evident as Liam turned toward her and caught sight of her shaking hand as she buttered her toast.

“We’ll protect you.”

“It’s not that simple. Whoever’s behind this has proven how stealthy they are. Do you have the resources to go up against someone with black ops training? Special forces training?”

The immediate reaction had him cocking his head. “You think a government’s behind this.”

“It’s a very real possibility.”

“What about the possibility it’s someone closer to you? The threats and intrusions have been very personal in nature.”

“Not possible.”

“Why not? To your point, someone in special ops knows how to take out a target.” The words were out before he could snatch them back and Liam knew how insensitive he sounded. Although it was another point in the “Liam’s a bastard” column, he refused to mince words with her.

He and his siblings had decided long ago that they wouldn’t keep clients ignorant of the danger that surrounded them. It was at best unfair and at worst, perilous to keep them in the dark.

“You’re saying if I were their intended target, I’d have been dealt with by now.”

“Yes.”

“It’s still not someone I know.”

“Why won’t you consider that possibility?”

She laid down the knife, her eyes wide. “I don’t have anyone in my life, friend or enemy. There’s no one who can hurt me.”

With precise movements she began wrapping the cord around the toaster and cleaning crumbs off the counter. Liam wanted to say something else—anything else—but he held back. He’d already been insensitive enough. What else could he say?

He moved into the living room and made a show of puttering with his suitcase and checking his bags. The sooner they got on their way, the better. When he heard the final sounds of the toaster being put away and running water in the sink he walked back in. “I have a service. You can leave those.”

“It’s just a few dishes.”

He’d have argued but she was already halfway through washing and had the plate and cup put up in minutes. The small motions fascinated him and he was forced to admit the women he usually brought here were all too happy to leave a mess behind, allowing someone else to take care of it.

Hell, he was all too content to leave a mess behind, paying someone to handle it.

And you’re getting weird over a plate and a cup, Steele.

Isabella grabbed her suitcase and headed for the door, the faintest smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Ready when you are.”

The ride to the lobby was quiet, the early morning hour ensuring very few were up and about. His doorman wasn’t at his post, which struck the back of his thoughts mere moments before the sight of a stranger sitting on one of the leather couches in the lobby caught his attention.

Where was Henri? And why was there someone in the lobby without supervision?

Isabella was still behind him, not yet visible until she stepped through the elevator. “Are we hailing a—”

Without thinking through the implications, he dragged Isabella into his arms and back toward the elevator doors. The car they were in had already closed and he stabbed the button with his free hand while pulling her close with the other.

“I’m thinking we can be late, darling.” His words echoed through the lobby, loud enough for anyone in earshot.

Without giving Isabella a chance to respond, he pressed his mouth to hers and prayed like hell the guy hadn’t seen her face.

Chapter 4

Her mind finally caught up with her actions and Isabella came to the abrupt realization she was kissing Liam Steele. Kissing him!

Her lips opened on an “O” of surprise and he simply used the gesture as an opportunity to slide his tongue fully against hers.

It was madness.

It was bliss.

The subtle ping of the elevator door went off behind her and she abstractly felt herself being walked backward into a waiting car. Rationally, her mind knew what was happening but she couldn’t seem to hold on to a single thought as insistent bursts of need buffeted her like winds battering a ship at high sea.

On some odd dimension of her brain, her scientific mind registered what was happening. The accelerated heart rate that slammed into her chest. The tightening of her skin, resulting in aching nipples. The rush of liquid heat at her core.

But the woman who’d been denied those reactions for far too long felt something entirely different.

The hard flex of his muscles where her hands lay over his shoulders. The tension of his tongue thrusting between her lips in an erotic dance that had stars exploding before her closed eyes. And the warm, rich scent that filled her senses with an earthy heat she couldn’t quite define. Cedar? Tobacco? Fresh grass?

Nothing fit, even as she catalogued each of those earthy scents before discarding them.

He was Liam and the power she’d sensed in him was nothing compared to the experience of having him pressed against every inch of her body.

That tantalizing scent continued to swirl around her senses before she was jerked from the moment—

“I’m sorry.”

Sorry? “What?”

Her stomach curdled as if filled with sour milk as he put distance between the two of them, moving to the far side of the elevator car.

“I don’t know why my doorman isn’t at his post and I didn’t like the look of the man in the lobby.”

“You think—” she broke off, not trusting herself to speak. That pervasive sense of danger returned—blessedly absent for those few brief moments in his arms—and along with it, she now had the embarrassment of extreme naïveté. “You think it’s the same threat from the hotel.”

“We can’t rule it out.” The elevators swung open on his floor and Liam stepped through the door, his outstretched hand keeping her in place in the elevator. She waited as he did a sweep of the hall, then saw his head nod. “Come on.”

She followed him, her suitcase heavy against her hand, as they retraced their steps to his apartment.

A ruse.

The kiss was nothing but a ruse to fool this mystery man in the lobby that set Liam’s antennae off. Empirically she knew her reaction was not only silly but immature, but the lingering feel of Liam’s lips on hers was a haunting reminder of things she hadn’t felt in far too long.

Or ever, her conscience taunted.

Pushing it down, she walked past him into his apartment.

He was protecting her and obviously thought a kiss was the most expedient way to keep her hidden from a threat. That thought was only punctuated when he began barking out orders from his cell phone.

“Henri? Where were you?”

Isabella only caught Liam’s side of the conversation but it wasn’t hard to piece together what had happened. The man had obviously been summoned by a call and felt he could take it at such an early hour. No one had been in the lobby when he left his post, nor had anyone been there when he returned.

“Damn it.” Liam muttered the curse and looked up from his phone. “Henri didn’t see him.”

“What did he look like?”

“Someone who didn’t belong.” Liam’s words were swift before his fingers flew once more over his phone. He was equally direct with whomever answered. “It’s me. What did you find?”

Isabella walked toward the windows that rimmed the far side of the room. Once again, Liam snarled out a series of orders and questions, varying them up based on whatever response he received.

As she stared out over the London skyline, Isabella knew she was in capable hands. Liam Steele had taken on full responsibility for her safety and security.

So why did that thought leave her feeling so bleak?

* * *

Liam allowed his gaze to travel over Isabella’s taut form, silhouetted against the light from the window, before forcing himself to focus on his brother’s words.

“I can say it again and I can say it louder, but it’s not going to change the results, Liam. I found nothing on the hotel video feed that suggested someone went in or out of her room yesterday.”

“And you don’t think it was tampered with?”

“Not that I could tell.”

“Check again.”

“Damn it. I checked it twice and so did T-Bone. There’s nothing there.” Campbell spit out a few more expletives and Liam knew his pushing was only exacerbating an already tense situation.

“Do you believe she’s right about this?” Campbell softened his words. “I get she’s a scientist and precise and all that, but we’re talking about a few millimeters of space on a suitcase. Hell, she could have kicked it with her foot and moved it. Or the curtain could have been bunched up and it fell down.”

“That’s not it.”

He believed Isabella. Recognized something in her prescriptive attention to details.

And just when had he gotten so fanciful?

Liam knew his brother had a point. He also knew Campbell and the computer expert he kept on his team, T-Bone, knew what they were doing.

“Fine. We’ll keep digging. What has you upset now? You said something about a problem this morning.”

“I need you to check the video feed in my lobby. My doorman left his post and never saw a man come in and out of the lobby, but the guy was there when Isabella and I got off the elevator. I don’t like it.”

Campbell made quick work of the request, the cameras in all of their buildings already connected to his security feeds. Liam knew it wasn’t a common luxury afforded to all residents of his building, but when he’d demanded the additional access—and sweetened the deal with an incremental payment—the building’s ownership had been surprisingly willing to negotiate.

Add on the reduced surveillance services the House of Steele had readily negotiated for said building owners and they had a rather nice arrangement going.

“Nothing on the feed.”

“No one in the lobby at all?”

“I see the doorman take a call and leave his post. I see the lobby sit empty for a while and then I see him come back.”

“And no one’s there? Nor did you see me get out of the elevator.”

“Nope.”

“Then we have an even bigger problem than I thought.”

Another string of expletives echoed through the phone. “Bugger got through my security. I’ve got that feed programmed to alert me to any tampering.”

“And nothing popped?”

“No.”

Liam heard the frustration more clearly in his brother’s voice on that single word than all the ranting and cursing that had come before. “I’m calling for an escort to the airport and delaying our flight until tomorrow morning. Brief Kenzi and Jack on what’s going on and we’ll game-plan when I get in.”

“Be careful, Liam. Whoever’s behind this? This guy knows way more than he should.”

“Got it.”

He disconnected with his brother and for the first time had to question what was really going on. He’d faced tough jobs before—they all had—but this was on a different level.

And he couldn’t shake the fact that whoever was after Isabella knew the House of Steele was going to help her.

“I’m sorry about before.”

She turned away from the window, her hands still fluttering in the silky material of her blouse where it hung around her waist. He wasn’t sure why that constant worrying of her fingers had him intrigued, but it did. The subtle proof she was human touched him way more than it probably should.

“I take it your brother didn’t find anything.”

“Not yet.”

“And I take it he also doesn’t believe me when I say someone was in my room last night.”

Liam cycled through the conversation in his mind. He’d been more than careful to keep any indication from his side of the conversation that Isabella might have been wrong yet she’d sensed it anyway. “Campbell just likes to be sure. Especially when he can’t find a technological answer to the problem.”

“And I take it the lobby visitor wasn’t visible on your building’s cameras?”

“Right again.”

Her face fell at the news, whatever lingering hope that had shimmered in the depths of her green gaze fading. He could still taste her on his lips, the subtle flavor of her coffee a shocking aphrodisiac. The urge to give comfort had him crossing to her, determined to offer reassurance.

“Then I shouldn’t be putting you in danger. Or taking up even more of your time with a full day of delay.” Her subtle feint to the left ensured she maintained a physical distance between the two of them and he stilled, surprised by the stiff set of her shoulders.

Where was the responsive woman who’d clung to him, fully engaged and kissing him back?

And why did the sudden urge to drag her back into his arms pulse through him with the heavy throb of a line of bass drums?

Their eyes met and that bass throb amped up another level, pushing him to take some action. To reach out once more and touch her, just to see if she was as soft as he remembered. To see if her lips were as enticing...

Liam shook off the thought and took a few steps back.

Isabella Magnini was a job, nothing more. He’d take care of her and see his responsibilities through and move on. It was what he did and it was how he lived his life. He’d built a structured, orderly world around himself that he controlled.

And he’d be damned if a frightened woman who’d discovered the potential to unleash hell changed any of that.

* * *

Isabella stayed where she’d been told and watched Liam through the sliding doors of one of Heathrow Airport’s many concourses. As he’d confirmed with his brother, he’d made good on his plan of hiring an armed escort to take them to the airport and was now thanking the man for his services.

The exchange was brief but it gave her the opportunity to observe him in action. The late morning rain coated the air a misty gray yet he stood out against it, as bright and vibrant as the sun.

The long, trim lines of his body captivated her, but it was something beyond the physical—something far more ephemeral—that drew her in as she traced his form with her eyes.

Competence shone from him in the simplest of actions. His quick handshake with their guard. The flash of his hand as he snagged his rolling suitcase. Even the quick flick of his wrist as he brushed drops of rain from his hair.

All of it bespoke of a man comfortable with himself and his surroundings, secure in who he was.

Was that what made leaders? No, she quickly amended, that’s what made conquerors.

The idea took root and she let it simmer as Liam walked closer, evaluating him through that new lens. Their elevator kiss the day before had certainly reinforced the notion and the events since—the quick, competent change in plans, the work with his brother back at headquarters, even the possessive order to stand inside the doors and wait for him when they’d arrived at the airport.

Here was a man used to giving orders he expected would be followed.

So why was she letting the simple fact that their elevator kiss meant nothing to him chafe at her like sandpaper on skin?

The thought had kept up a steady tattoo in her brain for the better part of the last day, even in the face of the very real—and shockingly present—danger she was in. Even worse, she’d spent a near-sleepless night focused on that while he looked fit and ready to conquer the day.

“Ready?”

She nodded and knew full well his question was meant to indicate their walk to security, so why did she feel something more? Something deeper at the question?

Was she ready?

She’d hidden from life for so long—had willingly buried herself in work and nothing else—that she’d missed out on so much. Her twenties, certainly, and if she kept it up her thirties would end up a blur as well. A blur of lab notes and beakers, computer analyses and charts and graphs that might calculate any number of things but couldn’t assuage how lonely she was.

She was ready for something more and now that the life she hadn’t put much stock in was in danger, she knew that more keenly than ever.

Liam took her suitcase in his free hand and gestured her forward with a tilt of the head. “We’ll wait in the captain’s lounge after we check in.”

She reached for the handle but he was already out of range and she took a few quick steps to catch up, her heels clicking on the tile. “What difference does it make once we pass through security?”

“I don’t want you out in the open.”

She knew the lounge he spoke of—it was a premium environment for premium fliers—but she’d never been there. “Isn’t that the whole point of going through security?”

He stopped and turned, the blue of his gaze penetrating as he waited for her to catch up. If she wasn’t mistaken—and her ability to read social cues meant her chances were only about fifty-fifty on being right—he looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I don’t like to fly. The quiet of the lounge helps me calm down before a flight.”

“Oh.”

He turned on his heel with the bags and continued on toward the snaking security line, his gait stiff.

A small smile she couldn’t quite hold back sprang to her lips and the spiral of tension holding her stomach in a tight fist loosened ever-so-slightly. Maybe the conquering hero had an Achilles’ heel or two after all.

To a mere mortal such as herself, it was an oddly comforting thought.

* * *

Whatever momentary lapse in judgment had caused her to think Liam human fled the moment they sat down in the captain’s lounge to await their flight. At least eight women had given him the once-over with their eyes in the one-hundred-yard jaunt from security to the club and the elegant hostess manning the front desk—who was old enough to be his mother—had flirted like a blushing school girl.

“Would you like something?” Liam settled their bags under their table and stopped to wait for her answer.

“I’m fine, thank you.” She snagged her tablet—the one she used for fun—from the depths of her purse and snapped open the cover.

“It’s a long flight and the food here’s better.”

“Please help yourself. I’ll wait for the plane.”

A strange expression flitted through his gaze before he seemed to think better of responding and headed for a wall-length counter filled with every sort of food imaginable.

The moment his gaze was averted, she appraised the counter full of food and knew she’d been hasty. Fresh fruit. Cookies. Even hot sandwiches filled the wall and her stomach let up an unladylike growl in indignation of being ignored.

She nearly gave in and followed him when a tall, statuesque woman sidling up to the counter filled her line of vision. The woman’s gaze was predatory and her wide mouth spread into a welcoming grin as she moved next to Liam. Isabella was too far away to hear the conversation but there was no way she was mistaken on the woman’s body language.

No, sir-ee.

Every line in the woman’s slender frame screamed out an invitation. And judging by the appreciative grin on Liam’s face, he didn’t mistake the offer.

Isabella refocused on her tablet and ignored the unfolding flirtation. She was Liam Steele’s client, nothing more. She had a problem and it was his job to fix it.

End of story.

The words on the screen jumbled in front of her eyes as her vision swam with the memories of their kiss and she blinked to refocus. Slowly, the chapter heading came back into view and she threw herself into the story of a roving space pirate and the female cantina owner determined to help him put his sketchy past behind him.

She’d been enjoying the story up to now, the author a personal favorite. In her mind’s eye, she’d fleshed out the big bad space pirate as a cross between Harrison Ford and Channing Tatum. How insulting, then, when he morphed in her mind to bear a striking resemblance to Liam.

Couldn’t her books even be off-limits?

With a resigned sigh—and a willingness to eat a portion of crow along with a fresh sandwich from the serving bar—she glanced up into Liam’s warm gaze.

“Problem?”

“Of course not. I just decided I was hungry after all. I’ll just go up and get something.”

“Then it’s a good thing I got you a sandwich and a banana.” He pulled a plate from behind his back, the promised sandwich filled to the brim with fresh-cut turkey, what appeared to be slices of pear and a wedge of soft cheese.

She took the proffered sandwich and fought the petty urge to go up and get something different. Good heavens, what was wrong with her? Her mother might have spent most of Isabella’s childhood thoroughly disengaged but even she’d managed to raise a child who was well-mannered and gracious.

Not to mention thankful when someone did something nice.

After she swallowed a bite, she set down her plate and turned to face Liam. “Thank you. The sandwich is delicious.”

“They know how to send a traveler off in style here.”

“Yes, they do.” She used his comment as an excuse to look around the lounge and away from the intense scrutiny of his gaze but his voice pulled her back to the here and now.

“We should get into JFK a little before two. My sister Kensington and her fiancé, Jack, are picking us up themselves.”

“Okay.” While the extra attention still felt unnecessary and overblown, Liam’s caution overrode any protests she might have.

“I’d like you to stay at the family house tonight.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I think it is. I’d also like you to give us keys to your apartment. Jack and I can go over and check things out tomorrow. He’s in security as well. Between the two of us, we know what to look for and how to suss out any threats.”

“I’ll go with you, of course.”

“I’d prefer you stayed behind.”

Whether it was lingering frustration over the long-legged Amazon and her smooth moves or the sheer insult of being left behind while someone investigated her home, she didn’t know.

She was fast hitting a point where she didn’t care, either.

“It’s my home. I appreciate your guidance but I believe, as your client, I still have final say. I’m going with you.”

“Isabella—”

“No. I’m not leaving you to walk through my apartment and look through my things while I sit and do nothing.”

“Someone’s proven themselves a threat to you on several occasions and, by all accounts, with increasing severity. You’re better off staying where we can control the situation.”

“I’m not negotiating this with you. I need to get inside my apartment and see if anyone was there. Besides, I won’t be scared away from my own home.”

“And I’d like you to be reasonable and let me do my job.”

She pushed her plate aside and leaned over the small table, her gaze direct. “No, Liam, I won’t be reasonable. Or pliable. Or pitiful. I may not be some athletic Amazon like Blondie over there,” she tossed her head in the direction of the woman from the serving counter, “but I know my own mind and I know this. You’re not going into my home without me.”

“Blondie?”

“Excuse me for being vague. I was referring to the statuesque blonde who almost had her tongue down your ear.”

“I believe her name’s Stella.”

“Of course it is.”

“She’s an old college acquaintance of my sister’s who thought she recognized me and came over to say hello.”

“How sweet.” Isabella flung a hand, nearly knocking over her plate in the process. “Why don’t you go get reacquainted?”

“Since she’s leaving on a tropical vacation with her boyfriend, I’m not sure either would appreciate the intrusion.”

Isabella looked over to where the blonde had sat down and had the distinct mortification of watching the woman run her hands over the rather large and imposing chest of a man she clearly had feelings for.

Damn it all to hell and back.

A few other choice expletives floated through her mind in rapid succession at, once again, being caught out of her depth. “How lovely for her.”

“Quite.”

She took a sip of the soft drink he’d brought her and willed the mortification to fade as quickly as possible. The cold slide of sugar coated her parched throat and while it couldn’t quite beat the heat of embarrassment flushing up her neck, it did make her feel a bit better.

“I don’t think you’re pitiful, Isabella.”

“Thank you.”

“And for the record?” A small smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, those blue irises twinkling. “I sure as hell don’t think you’re pliable, either.”

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