Sweet Seduction Surrender (2 page)

"Well now," Jason drawled. "This is an interesting development indeed. Does Nick know you play with sharp implements, like a wannabe ninja warrior princess?"

I took a step closer, not shifting the knife tip at all, but using my increased heart rate to fuel my anger. This may not have been part of my Kombatan training, but I didn't care. Jason made a part of me, long thought buried, rise up like a snake from a charmer's basket.

I smiled, it was probably calculating and snarled, "Back off, Cain!"

I don't really know what happened next. It was quick, so sudden, and my body was spun around several times that the dizziness created added to the confusion of seeing my knife on the floor discarded and feeling my back pressed up firmly against the wall several feet down the hallway. Without a pause for my mind to catch up to the change in dynamics and the new position I now found myself in, Jason's body slammed flush against mine.

"Kate, Kate, Kate," he purred above me, one hand still holding my knife arm at the wrist down by our sides, the other wrapped around the front of my throat: palm hot and heavy, yet gentle against such a vulnerable part of the body. "That was uncalled for," he added with a soft shake of his head.

I blinked, tried to still my thunderous heartbeat and sucked in a short, sharp stab of air. None of it settled my nerves or gave me any clarity. How the hell did he disarm me so easily?

"We've got at least twenty-four hours in each other's company," Jason murmured, shifting his face closer, relaxing his body against the length of mine. I was sure it was all an act, purely designed to throw me off balance.
I think.
Whatever it was, it was working. Damn it. "If you want to fight me the entire time I'm here, then let's get a couple of things straight."

He leaned in further, his hot breath washing over my cheek. At every point on my body where his touched I felt hot streaks of lightning shoot past. I could feel the measured rise and fall of his chest, the slow, steady beat of his heart through his shirt. The firm and powerful strength of his thighs against mine. I wanted to close my eyelids and savour the sensations he created. But I would not give him the satisfaction.

"Anything you can do, I can do better," he whispered.

And maybe it was his cheesy choice of words, or maybe it was just time for me to grow a pair, as my brothers would say, but I woke up from the fantasy his proximity had created and let my body relax, giving the impression of capitulation. Playing possum, something Nick would approve of, I was sure.

I felt Jason's body mould further into mine, I kept my eyes averted from his face, which was now mere centimetres from my own. His hand at my throat began a slow caress; it was so unexpected, I almost tensed. Then he shifted, slightly, moving his large frame to the side as his hand holding my wrist released its grip and moved. I have no idea where he intended it to go, but I took the opportunity of distraction to twist beneath his grasp, raise my free non-dominant hand up and punch him hard under the chin with the palm of my extended arm.

I'm not particularly good at close hand-to-hand combat. I have practised with my trainer, but always with a knife in my grasp. The principle, even unarmed, is the same though. His head shot back with a grunt pressed through his lips, his chest shifted with the momentum, and I gave a swift jab with my dominant right hand into the side of his torso, near the vicinity of his kidney.

He doubled over and I used the increased space between us to escape, coming to rest a meter down the hall to watch him recover. When his furious eyes rose up to meet mine I finally spoke.

"You are welcome in my house, Jason. But if you ever touch me again, I
will
gut you."

He slowly stood upright, his gaze running over my body in a way I had never seen him do before. It was blatantly sexual. Hungry, full of desire and longing, carnal in nature. He hid nothing. And it was everything I thought Jason would be, but had never shown me. He tried his utmost to offer me only indifference mixed with a smattering of disdain normally. Sure, occasionally I'd think I see a hint of something else, but Jason worked damn hard to maintain that icy façade between us. This, right here though, was entirely new. Something I'd dreamed about, but never thought I'd witness. And now that I did, it left me feeling decidedly anxious. Fearful of the craving he chose to let me see.

"Is that a challenge, Kate?" he asked, taking a seductive step closer.

I knew how to handle a disgruntled Jason. I even had experience in how to handle an irate Jason. But the Jason who prowled towards me did not come with an instruction manual. I had no idea how to combat
this
Jason. I swallowed thickly, he watched the move with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Which, incidentally, were now full on deep chocolate brown. And I swear my heart leapt for joy.

Traitorous organ.

"What are you going to do now, Kate?" Jason murmured, his voice several octaves lower than before.

My eyes darted around the small space we were in, spotted my knife on the floor, closer to Jason than me. Then finally, after admitting I was stymied, I lifted a defiant gaze to his face.

He chuckled, relaxed back on his heels and let the smirk have free rein.

"Kate," he chastised in a rough, but clearly amused voice. "If you can't handle the fire, then don't pick up a fucking knife."

And OK, that was absolutely the most god-awful bastardisation of a saying I had ever heard, but he was right. Jason Cain was fire, and I was truly well out of my league.

Jason left me in the hallway with not so much as a backwards glance. He strode off into the lounge to no doubt investigate security there. Which was confirmed as I heard him rattle several locks on the windows and test the handle on the rear kitchen door. I let a slow breath out and attempted to still my rapidly beating heart.

This day just kept getting worse. And I still had a design to finish for Mrs Montgomery-Smith. I shook my head in bewilderment and stepped forward to pick up my now pathetic looking knife off the floor.

"Careful with that, Kate," Jason called from the next room. "Can't take you to an A&E if you slice yourself. Lock-down means you get me stitching up any injuries and I don't much care for anaesthetic. Waste of time."

I glared at the doorway to the lounge. I couldn't see him, so how he knew I'd picked up my knife, I don't know. But the glare helped me contain my anger and stopped me from biting back... exactly what he wanted. No, the best course of action was to pretend Jason Cain wasn't in my house at all.

I walked back toward my office and resheathed the knife, slipping it away into my desk and out of sight. The desire to keep it on me at all times over the next twenty-four hours was relentless. But impractical. So, in the drawer it went.

I slumped down in my chair and shifted my mouse to bring up the design I was working on. I stared at it mutely for several long seconds, then decided to scrap the entire thing and start all over again. It's not often I cross off a design and bin it this late in the game. All that effort. All those hours. For what? But for some strange reason I decided Mrs Montgomery-Smith would like a little more than my signature designs. I was thinking alternate, sharp and definitely hot.

God knows I needed something to occupy my mind for the next few hours. Anything to make me stop picturing Jason with that sexy glint to his eyes and hunger in his stance.

Seven hours later I'd created what I humbly think is my most impressive piece of work to date. It was captivating; sensual with a kick. Not many people could live with this style; bold prints mixed with striking stripes. Complementary colour combinations that almost, but not quite, clashed with contrasting patterns and designs. One word could sum it up: Edgy. It certainly matched my current mood.

But despite how different it was from my normal designs, I loved it. And for a moment I just stared at it, thinking where the hell had this come from? I mean, I try new things out all the time. I keep abreast of current fads and the latest fashions in the market, it's my job. It's what my clients expect. But I had never taken a step in a completely different direction before; a setter, not a follower, of the latest trend.

Mrs Montgomery-Smith could easily dismiss it with one highly opinionated glance. But it was too good for that. I
knew
it. This was something altogether special. And it had just popped into my head unexpectedly, on a day that had taken a decidedly disastrous turn.

Which made me realise belatedly that I probably wouldn't have had this epiphany if Jason Cain hadn't walked through my door.

Oh good Lord. Jason Cain is my muse?

I made a strangled sound from the back of my throat and shook my head vehemently.
That
was out of the question completely. A coincidence, nothing more.

"You should take a break," Jason said from over my shoulder. Surprising me for more than one reason.

I hadn't realised he'd walked into my office and was looking at my design on the laptop screen. But that wasn't the entire reason for my shock. He sounded like he cared. Until he continued talking, that is.

"You've been at this for seven hours now. It's time for food and I'm starved."

I swung around to glare up at him. He just raised his eyebrows in a quasi-challenge which we both knew I wouldn't accept.

"Besides," he added, signature smirk gracing his lips at last. "You've started making strange noises to yourself, next you'll be holding a conversation all on your own."

"Rather like you are right now," I shot back, turning to my laptop to hit print. I always kept hard-copies of my designs, in case the client asked for them.

Hot breath washed over my shoulder and across my cheek. Jason's voice was a seductive murmur in my ear.

"Kate, when have you ever ignored me?"

The cocky, self-assured bastard. I purposely didn't answer. He just laughed out loud and moved toward the door.

"By the way," he said over his shoulder, "I like Italian dinners and red wine. Be a doll and fix me up."

"I'll bloody well fix you up," I muttered under my breath, hearing a distinct chuckling sound from further in the house.

I concentrated on writing an email to Mr and Mrs Montgomery-Smith and attaching my design file to it. It took all of two minutes. Not nearly long enough for me to settle my heartbeat and steady my nerves. I shut-down my laptop not feeling the usual sense of relief at meeting an impossible deadline and finishing an exceptional project outline. I should have been ecstatic. I would normally be opening a bottle of wine in celebration. Now I was determined to cook Chinese and slap tap water on the table.

But that would be immature. And would fall right into Jason's god-complex trap. I needed to behave the way my mother had raised me, and not let the man see how he affected me at all.

I straightened my blouse, dusted off my dress pants and walked out of the office, flipping the light switch off as I left. The TV was on low as I entered the living area. Jason was sprawled on the couch as though he belonged there. My eyes took in the length of him, every... single... inch. I closed my lids and sucked in a long breath of air, then forced myself to ignore the Adonis reclining on my settee and crossed the open-plan space into the kitchen itself.

I heard the early news programme start up in the background. It did not surprise me that Jason Cain would keep abreast of current affairs. As I began pulling ingredients out of the pantry and fridge I couldn't help feeling how nice it was to have someone else in my home for once. I'd been working so hard on building my client base, making a name for myself in the cut-throat arena that is interior design, that I had neglected my social life.

Occasionally Gen would come over to watch a movie, or I'd have a few pre-dinner drinks with old girlfriends before we hit the town, but admittedly they had become less frequent. And a man in my lounge, while I prepared a meal in the kitchen, was unheard of. It was just a shame that this ideal picture of domesticity included a man like Jason Cain.

The sound of my home line ringing cut into my thoughts and interrupted my food preparation. I walked the short distance to the phone and lifted the handset, offering my usual greeting when the line connected.

"Katie Anscombe."

"Hey, sis! How're you holding up?" Nick asked, concern etching his voice.

"Never better, darling," I replied, habit making the response automatic.

"Is that right?" he drawled down the line. "You haven't killed each other yet then?"

My eyes flicked up to the lounge in time to see Jason sauntering over towards me. I was momentarily stunned silent as he smoothly glided past without acknowledging my presence. I watched as he approached the vegetables I'd been halfway through chopping and for a moment I thought he was about to take over dinner preparation. But he bypassed the partially cut onions and peered into the pantry. I rolled my eyes as he pulled back, hand fisted around the neck of a bottle of Merlot. An expensive bottle of Merlot.

"No, not yet," I murmured into the phone. "But the temptation is definitely present."

The Merlot clug-clug-clugged into a wine glass, which was promptly pushed across the bench towards me and then the action repeated for his own glass. He then leaned back against the sink and took a sip, eyes locked on mine.

"Just remember he's there for a reason, sis," Nick was saying in my ear. "Don't damage my staff until the lock-down is over, OK?"

"Why
are
we in lock-down?" I asked, eyes still held prisoner by Jason's determined gaze. He leaned forward and pushed my untouched glass of wine a fraction closer. The message was clear. I ignored it.

"Just a little trouble with Declan King, nothing for you to worry about."

"You say that like King can be reasoned with," I pointed out, well aware of who Declan King was. I kept abreast of current affairs as well, and Declan King was Auckland's premier criminal.

"A misunderstanding, that's all." Nick explained breezily. Then ruined the casual effect he'd been aiming for by adding, "A small exchange of bullets in a back alley while I extricated Ben's target from King's clutches. King really took it entirely the wrong way."

I froze, white knuckled around the telephone handset, as an image of Nick being shot flicked through my head.

"It was nothing, Katie," he offered, maybe picking up on my stunned silence. "All in a day's work," he added, making me suck in an angry breath of air.

"I wish you wouldn't treat me like a child, Nicholas," I murmured, then watched as Jason placed his glass on the bench with care and rounded the edge of divider to reach my side. He lifted up my glass with one hand, then lifted up my free hand with his other, and placed the two together.

My lips twitched, despite Nick's overly casual explanation of what could have been a dire event.

"Katie," Nick said on an exasperated sigh. "It was nothing,
really
. You don't need to get upset. Can't a big brother wash over the nastier side of his profession to his sister if he likes?"

"Bullets, Nick," I pointed out. But this was Nick, and bullets and my brother went hand in hand. I'd had to learn to deal with my fear early on. Now was no different.

My eyes were still on Jason while I spoke, watching as he returned to his glass of wine on the other side of the kitchen. He settled back against the cupboards and raised the glass in a toast, waiting for me to mirror the move.

I shook my head in bemusement, for a brief moment forgetting how dangerous my brother's chosen profession actually was, and lifted my wine in a salute then took a sip. It was nice. So I took another straight away, feeling the tension of Nick's admission ease with each progressive mouthful. Jason smiled. It wasn't a smirk, which was why I lost all train of thought for a moment and just stared.

"Katie? Are you even listening?" Nick asked, voice raised as though he'd been trying to get my attention for a while.

"Sorry, darling," I quipped. "I'm a little hungry, skipped lunch to work on a project. I think I might need to eat something before I pass out."

"Oh, OK. Just," Nick paused, clearly unsure how to phrase his next words. "Just don't get into anything with Cain, all right?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, a definite nervous edge to my tone.

"Katie. He's, fuck, how do I put this? Well, he's a good employee and I don't want to lose him, but he's also, um, he's a..."

"Nick, for God's sake spit it out!" I demanded, getting frustrated with my brother and realising belatedly that I'd taken three more sips of my wine. The glass was now half empty.

"He's a player," Nick blurted, as though trying to get the words out before he changed his mind.

"Why on earth would you tell me this?" I asked incredulously, downing another large sip of wine. I grimaced and placed the glass back on the bench, only to watch as Jason refilled it in the blink of an eye.

"You think I haven't noticed how he looks at you, Katie?" Nick surprised me by saying, his voice low, almost a snarl. "He thinks he hides it." Hides what? "But we all see it. A man like him and a woman like you..." He stopped talking to suck in a breath of air.

My heart skipped a beat. Just what the hell was Nick saying? Had Jason actually looked at me with interest before today? Was he really attracted to me? Or was it just my lust addled brain making something out of nothing? Oh, God. If Nick had seen Jason looking at me in some manner, what had he seen me do in return? A blush stole up my cheeks at that thought. Had others seen my desire too?

"It's just that we've got to know him a bit over the past few months," Nick added finally, "and well, it's clear he is not ready to settle down." Oh dear Lord.

"Nick," I said, and there was no denying I was getting uncomfortable now. "This is highly inappropriate." For crying out loud, the topic of conversation was standing across the room from me watching my every reaction and probably hearing every word Nick had said as well. This was so embarrassing. What if Jason hadn't been looking at me the way Nick thought he'd seen?

Oh God, I'd give anything for this conversation to be back on gun shooting ground. How much did Nick think he knew? How much was true? But Jason had been blasé around me, so how had Nick seen differently? I wanted to believe what I think Nick was saying, but I just wasn't sure.

"Katie," Nick said softly. "You're not his type." Oh. Well, there went my stupid, romantic hopes up in flames. "So maybe this is all a waste of time, but from the stream of blonde busty bimbos he's trotted out before us I'd say the guy has a way with the ladies. I'd hate for him to take advantage of your current predicament and enclosed living quarters, and make a move on you just because he's got an itch to scratch."