Nine Months to Claim Her

by Natalie Anderson

  Well, not nothing.

  Because there was—as always—that acidic burning regret in the pit of his stomach that his mother wasn’t alive to see any of it. She was never to know her honour had been restored, never to feel any peace or security or enjoyment of the rewards...which meant that he couldn’t either. Because it was his fault she couldn’t. Leo rolled his shoulders, unable to dwell on that most painful of wounds.

  Maybe he was tired, but he didn’t want to return to his duty downstairs yet. And he didn’t have to, right? Because Ash had made an appearance. Ash, who’d tracked Leo down when they were both angry teens. Rebellious Ash, who’d enabled Leo to prove their shared parentage. Ash, who’d stepped aside and been an ally ever since.

  Leo would always owe him. But their bond was built on more than mutual loathing of their father now. There was respect and loyalty. Ash had signalled his support of Leo’s leadership of the company and Leo had done all he could to support Ash’s fiercely independent business in return. It was the one relationship in Leo’s life now that actually worked and Ash was the only family Leo would ever have. Leo hadn’t failed to notice how haunted he’d looked earlier today. He suspected there might be a woman involved but he’d not asked. He’d have been unable to offer any advice anyway; it was for Ash to work out alone. But for now Ash was downstairs doing what he did best—avoiding whatever it was causing him grief by outrageously charming everyone he encountered.

  Which meant Leo didn’t have to. Leo didn’t have to even be ‘Leo Castle’, right now. He could just be a man watching a mysterious, pretty woman out on the terrace.

  The elevator had chimed its low warning a few moments ago. He’d neglected to lock it again when he’d come up, but now he swiped through a couple of screens on his phone, adjusting settings so the elevator couldn’t come back to this floor unless summoned by him. No more intruders today. No one but the female currently prowling through his plants.

  He didn’t think she was a guest. Clad in a black blouse and black skirt and black heels that were more sensible than skyscraper, she was staff, he guessed. A waitress escaping all those trays of hors d’oeuvres for a few minutes. He didn’t blame her for wanting some peace, he’d wanted it himself.

  He watched her explore the terrace, increasingly fascinated by her unguarded demeanour. She was a slim shadow and even though her hair was tied back he could see it was more flaming orange tones than rich auburn—like bonfire night. Despite the distance and even as the sky turned dusky, he could see her skin was pale. She breathed deeply, taking in the view before turning back to the small garden again. Her hand lightly touched the blooms with a reverence and care that he appreciated. He felt a fleeting desire for her to look up and inspect him with the same deliberate concentration, as if there were nothing and no one else in the world she had any interest in.

  Ridiculous.

  He half laughed beneath his breath at his fanciful thinking. He must be tired. He didn’t get distracted. Ever. But with that deal now completed, the party a success, maybe he could have a moment to enjoy the scenery. To stop and smell the roses like his interloper out there...

  She cupped one of the flowers with a gentle touch and intense focus. But she didn’t pick the bloom. He was glad; he liked those flowers even if they only survived because of the people he paid to take care of them. More importantly, they were his. Not hers. But she suddenly turned to another plant. Her fingers slid across the large, flat leaf and down the stem. A second later she snapped it.

  Leo stiffened in incredulity and a second later amusement washed over him.

  Little thief.

  She’d picked, not a flower, but a stem from an ugly-as-sin plant. Not quite Beauty stealing roses then, and nor was he about to be a Beast and keep her here for his entertainment. But given he’d caught her in the act, he was going to call her on it.

  * * *

  ‘And you are...?’

  Rosanna jumped and turned at the low voice. Her reply caught in her throat as she saw him. First impression? Intimidating size. Second? Eyes.

  They were so blue they were almost indigo and it took only one look at them for her brain to slither into irrelevance and leave her simply staring. Tall, muscular, magnificent. He moved towards her slowly, almost carefully, which allowed other details to slowly seep in. His dark suit accentuated his height and the breadth of his shoulders. The man had muscles and he moved with lethal grace, which meant he must use those muscles well and often. His close-cropped hair and chiselled jaw added to his aura of discipline. Adding this to his very serious countenance, she guessed he was on the security team. As he moved nearer she saw those blue eyes sharpen, revealing intelligence, alertness and a faint hint of condemnation.

  Rosanna was poleaxed. And why on earth was she suddenly thinking a man magnificent?

  ‘You know you’re not supposed to be here,’ he added, overlooking the fact she’d not answered his first question.

  ‘Are you?’ she deflected while attempting to catch both her breath and brain and hoping her flash-flood auto-blush would recede quickly.

  ‘I am.’ All authority.

  ‘Security detail?’ Catching her breath was impossible. Apparently all the oxygen had been sucked from the world and the plants surrounding her were no help whatsoever.

  His shockingly vibrant eyes narrowed. ‘You’re...on service here?’

  Service? She frowned before it dawned. The security guy thought she was a waitress—meaning he had no idea who she was. Rightly so—she really had no influence here, no matter how hard her parents wished it.

  ‘Escaping duty for a little while,’ she offered warily. It wasn’t a complete lie. ‘Besides, won’t other—?’ She broke off, realising she’d almost given herself away. ‘Won’t some of the guests be arriving up here shortly?’

  His head moved almost imperceptibly. ‘No one is supposed to be up here.’

  No one? Too late she realised that maybe more people weren’t up here because it was supposed to be off-limits.

  ‘Why not?’ she asked awkwardly. ‘It’s the best bit of the whole building.’

  There was a hesitation. ‘Some of the interior isn’t finished so it’s not open for a tour tonight.’

  ‘Yet I got up here without any problems.’

  ‘That was a mistake.’

  His gaze was so unrelenting she couldn’t resist a slight dig.

  ‘Lax security?’ she muttered innocently.

  ‘Apparently so,’ he acknowledged seriously. ‘But I’ve locked the elevators now so no one can come up without the code.’

  Her breath caught again—he’d locked the lift? ‘What about getting back down?’

  He didn’t blink but his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. Rosanna stared back at him, her own intrigue growing. Had that been a glimmer of amusement?

  ‘Are you concerned that you’re now stuck up here?’ he enquired softly. The edge of tease was so faint. But it was there.

  ‘Not in the least,’ she lied, instinctively going for self-preservation.

  ‘Not worried about losing your job?’

  ‘They won’t notice for a while.’ That wasn’t a lie at all.

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ he said. ‘I think the world would notice if you were absent.’

  He was so far from right but, for just this once, it was nice to go along with it and believe a slightly cheesy line delivered by a sinfully serious man. Her nerves sharpened as awareness shivered along her veins. The sky had darkened further and now they were softly lit by the glow of those small bulbs. It could so easily be mistaken for a fairy den of magic and mystery and enticing amusement... And this flight of flirtish fancy? This ripple of temptation? This was not her. Ever.

  She didn’t think it was him either. But he wasn’t moving and nor was she because there was something in the air.

  She made herself swallow. �
��Shouldn’t you get back to doing your security rounds?’

  ‘There are plenty of us here. Besides, I’m keeping an eye on you.’

  ‘I’m not about to steal anything.’ She half laughed.

  ‘But you already have.’ He jerked his chin towards her hand.

  ‘Oh.’ She glanced down. She’d forgotten all about the stem of the Monstera plant she’d swiped. Now she realised she was gripping it so tightly it was a wonder she hadn’t minced it to pulp. ‘That.’

  Amusement flickered again, ripping an irreparable tear in his serious facade, and he suddenly smiled—lopsided—as if it was an unfamiliar sensation stretching on his face. ‘Yes. That.’

  He reached out and took the frond from her and she just let him because now he was smiling. Which meant that now he was spellbinding. Her heart raced in response to his move closer. She was so aware of him that she had to consciously not take a step back. It wasn’t that he was a danger but that he was a threat of another kind. A threat that was also a temptation. Especially when he smiled.

  ‘Any particular reason for this?’ he asked. ‘You didn’t want a flower?’

  ‘If I picked a flower it would die sooner.’

  ‘So you care about the plants?’ he mused. ‘This wasn’t wilful destruction?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  His smile deepened as he stepped closer again and revealed a dimple beneath that perfectly sculpted cheekbone. Rosanna stood immobile as he threaded the stem into her hair. He didn’t touch her directly but she couldn’t breathe. She remained still even after he’d finished. Because he didn’t move. He just stood there looking into her eyes. And she looked back—unable to do anything else. The tension stretched. His expression was devastatingly hot. Was he really flirting with her? Did it happen like this—so quickly? So easily?

  Guys never flirted with Rosanna. They never noticed her. And if by some chance they did, it was only to request to borrow her notes or to get something from the lab supply cupboard. And she definitely didn’t attempt to flirt—too shy, too wary of awkward rejection. Relationships weren’t something she had much experience with. Only right now there wasn’t just a flutter of anticipation inside her, there was a fizzing sensation and a temptation to lean closer and say something...stupid, probably. Yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  ‘You’re not going to make me pay for it?’ she asked. ‘No punishment for petty theft?’

  The terrible thing was she was curious as to what sort of ‘penance’ he might require—might it involve skin?

  What was wrong with her?

  His eyes widened slightly. That fizzing built the pressure inside her—threatening to explode in a way she wasn’t sure would be wise.

  ‘Why would I want to punish passion?’ he asked softly.

  Passion? An unfamiliar flare of heat swept over her. She felt passion for plants, yes, absolutely. But this was different. He was unbearably handsome, and his all-serious intensity called to something within her. Mortified at her thinking, she glanced away from him. Small talk wasn’t her thing either. She’d always been shy, but she had to get herself out of this, quickly.

  ‘It’s an amazing view,’ she muttered awkwardly.

  He didn’t reply.

  ‘And it’s the most beautiful terrace,’ she added, her nerves growing. ‘It’s weird because you know you’re in the heart of a massive city, but it’s quiet and secret up here.’

  She didn’t usually fill silences. She wasn’t usually around people long enough for awkward silences to develop.

  ‘You’ve seen the other apartments?’ he asked.

  ‘The ones that are open, yes.’ She glanced up at him and couldn’t help a burr of defensiveness. ‘I’ve not been sneaking through others. I’m not a thief.’

  ‘No?’ Something flickered in his expression. ‘How do I know there aren’t other things you’ve taken?’

  That glint in his eye ignited a fire beneath her skin. A sense of playfulness—of challenge—filled her.

  ‘You can’t take my word for it?’ she murmured. ‘Or are you going to pat me down?’

  She experienced a sudden craving for touch that was so strong and so unlike her that she shivered.

  ‘I can imagine a strip-search.’ His gaze grazed down her body as if he had X-ray eyes able to see through the black satin to the plain black underwear she wore beneath.

  He was like a shadow in which you found danger—enter depths you might get lost in and thus never emerge into the sunlight again. Rosanna was most definitely lost already.

  ‘The only thing I’ve taken is the frond,’ she said.

  ‘Why that one in particular?’ he asked softly. ‘I saw the way you looked at the plant—as if it was something precious. What makes it so special?’

  How long had he been watching her?

  Embarrassment curled. ‘The coloration on the leaves. I wanted to see if I could grow it from a cutting,’ she mumbled.

  ‘So it wasn’t just a whim?’

  ‘I don’t tend to do things on a whim.’

  His eyes crinkled. ‘Nor do I.’

  She suddenly smiled because that she could well believe—he seemed too intense to indulge in spontaneity. ‘I shouldn’t have taken it without asking.’

  His eyebrows lifted. ‘We’re all tempted to take things we shouldn’t sometimes.’

  His huskiness fuelled the fire of temptation already melting her.

  ‘I won’t tell if you won’t,’ he added softly.

  That whisper with its promise of secrecy forged something between them. Something illicit. Something tempting. She had the feeling this guy could get away with almost anything. He had an aura, not just of power or command, but of unshakable capability.

  ‘Do you do that often?’ she asked.

  ‘Not tell?’

  ‘Give in to temptation and take what you shouldn’t.’ That heat scaled over every inch of her skin.

  He hesitated for a moment before his smile emerged and went ever so slightly lopsided again. ‘Not often, no.’

  She believed him—the discipline, the decency, the duty, rolled off his demeanour.

  ‘Although that doesn’t mean I can’t be persuaded by the right person,’ he suddenly added. ‘A temptation strong enough.’

  That frisson of danger reared again.

  ‘You look strong enough to withstand any temptation,’ she said. ‘You look like you have a lot of discipline.’

  He half laughed. ‘Appearances can be deceptive.’

  ‘But not everything in an appearance can be faked.’ Breathing, real, right in front of her, there was no dispute that those muscles of his weren’t honed. Muscles like that took work. ‘Or are you saying you’re not as strong as you look?’

  ‘You think I look strong?’

  ‘Yes. That’s part of your job, right?’

  He cocked his head, that smile flickering around his mouth. ‘You look like a cat burglar. You act like one too. Yet you cry innocence.’

  Rosanna blushed. She was more innocent than he’d probably imagined. A virgin at twenty-six—basically a mythical creature, right?

  She breathed, wishing the heat would ease. Her skin was so pale that a barely heightened heartbeat showed up on her face as if she’d seen the most embarrassing thing imaginable. The merest hint of adrenalin in her system turned her into a tomato, which then clashed with the orange of her hair. Her awareness of it only made it worse. Her mother always recommended she smother her skin in make-up for contouring and complexion control. That way she could obliterate the millions of freckles at the same time and make her appearance smooth and inoffensive. She’d not bothered tonight. She should have.

  She shrugged. ‘There’s nothing else I want to take from here.’

  ‘No?’ He almost pouted. ‘Now that is disappointing.’

 
‘What did you want me to take?’

  ‘Anything really, then I’d have to apprehend you.’ His eyes lit up. ‘Or you could just take me.’

  That tension twisted.

  ‘I’m not strong enough to take you on.’ Nor experienced enough.

  ‘I think you’re underplaying your attributes.’

  What attributes were they?

  But he was watching her, his head slightly cocked to the side, his indigo eyes glinting as they caught that tiny light.

  She was swamped by a rush of something so primal, so fierce, it stole more than her breath. The crazy urge to kiss him was so overwhelming it scared her. ‘I’d better get back—’

  He took her hand, his touch instantly silencing her. That heat thickened. She didn’t—couldn’t—move, though his clasp was loose and she could’ve broken away easily. She stared up at him, lost in the unwavering blue of his eyes, stilled by the gentle rub of his thumb across the back of her hand.

  He regarded her intently, his voice little more than a husky whisper. ‘Stay a little longer.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  IT HAD BEEN a simple invitation, yet there was an underlying suggestion—an offer of something so much stronger that was unspoken. And Rosanna couldn’t break from the stillness. It was as if she were locked in a resin sphere—in a perfect tableau of temptation.