Behind Closed Doors... by Anne Oliver

Author:Anne Oliver [Oliver, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781460344477
Google: u7_tAwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-11-01T04:30:00+00:00

EIGHT

Cleo swung up onto the first rung. Her pulse raced, a nervous excitement jittered up and down her spine. She climbed steadily upward, concentrating on not looking down. She’d seen Jack do it with an injured shoulder, how hard could it be?

But her palms were damp, her heart seemed to have lodged in her throat. Branches tapped lightly at the ground-floor window. Somewhere she could hear party music, the thump of bass on the air in time with blood pounding in her head. Just a few more feet...

Uh-oh. Wrong window. Of the two windows in his room, contrary Jack had left the wrong one open... Don’t look down.

She looked down.

Her head spun nastily. No way could she go back the way she’d come. The white-knuckled fingers of one hand clung to the trellis while she pried one hand off to tap at the pane. ‘Jack.’ Her voice came out barely above a whisper. She was afraid if she raised it, somehow she’d be flung from the wall and land in a heap below. A broken heap. She gritted her teeth and tried again. ‘Jack.’ Louder. Her whole body was taut as wire, aching with the tension of holding on.

A face appeared. Thank God. She almost wept with relief. ‘What the hell?’ it shouted.

So much for a dramatic entrance. ‘It’s me, Jack. Open up.’

The window shot up with a sharp riff and Jack leaned out, peering at her over the window ledge. ‘God, are you crazy?’

Not just a face. A body. A very naked body from what she could see. ‘Just help me in, Jack.’ Calm voice. Calm, in control voice. Not-so-calm pulse.

Two strong arms reached out, lifting her bodily through the opening as if she weighed no more than the shadows surrounding her.

‘Thanks.’ Her valiant attempt to appear nonchalant failed miserably as her legs turned to jelly. She clutched those, strong safe arms while her chest ached and her lungs burned from holding her breath.

‘What in hell do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded in a dangerously low voice.

The bright slash of moonlight carved an equally dangerous expression on his face; his arms, shoulders, chest could have been painted with it. His eyes glittered, smoke and silver in the dimness.

‘I wanted to see you...’ Wrong choice of words. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Her gaze kind of slid downwards. And stuck. An instinctive feminine awe speared through her body. Her blood turned to quicksilver in her veins. It looked...he was...magnificent. And growing more magnificent even as she watched.

‘Congratulations,’ he said tautly, his voice thick. ‘I think we could say you’ve achieved that.’

He tilted her chin with a thumb and finger till she had no choice but to look into those dangerous eyes and not at the action taking place below.

‘Listen, and listen good, Cleo. Don’t you ever try anything like that again.’ He tightened his grip on her chin. ‘Understood?’

‘No, not understood.’ She batted his hand away. ‘You give yourself permission to take risks and I’m not supposed to? And don’t give me any of that chauvinistic crap because I’ll refuse to discuss it.

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