by Zara Chase
* * * *
Jodie felt tired and dispirited. She wanted to ask if she’d done something to sour Milo’s mood, but he hadn’t given her the opportunity. Now he’d disappeared, leaving her at a loose end. She didn’t want to read, couldn’t use her laptop for fear of her activities being monitored, and the thought of watching daytime television made her want to scream. She could go out for a walk, she supposed—there was a pretty park nearby—but it was too hot to bother.
She followed Milo’s advice, wandered out onto the terrace, and threw herself full length onto a well-upholstered chaise, the size of a double bed. She continued to brood about Milo, reminding herself just how delectable he’d looked when he had arrived home in his business suit. If the magistrate had been a lady, no matter how old, her decision would have had to be influenced by having such an Adonis standing before her, pleading for his client—no question. She should have asked him how it had gone, but his closed expression hadn’t exactly invited conversation. It was as though he was pissed at her for some reason, but she couldn’t think what had changed since yesterday.
It would make her life so much easier if having gone to bed with him had gotten her over her obsession. Unfortunately the reverse was true, especially now she’d seen his scars, knew how vulnerable they made him feel, and had learned from Hal how they came to be there. That revelation left her with a bigger problem—one she didn’t have a clue how to go about resolving.
Milo and Hal would have to know, sooner or later, that she’d agreed to go to Pakistan with a group of like-minded volunteers to help with the refugee crisis in situ. There were never enough helpers, and she looked forward to making a real difference. That’s what she had wanted to check online for news about. There was a website with regular updates. Still, she would receive an e-mail when the arrangements were completed. Anyway, she couldn’t leave the country until after this debacle was resolved and her passport was returned to her, so perhaps Milo and Hal wouldn’t need to know.
Jodie shivered, in spite of the warmth, when she considered their reaction—especially Milo’s—should they find out. How could she make them understand she wasn’t just playing at this? There was a force within her that stirred her compassion, leaving her with no choice but to follow her conscience. They seemed to think it was a deliberate ploy to upset her father, to get back at him in some way for neglecting her. Perhaps it had started out that way, but now, helping these displaced people was her raison d’être. It gave her life purpose and meaning, and she absolutely believed what she was doing was right. Milo and Hal had seen these war zones through the eyes of soldiers, risking their lives for political causes that might not always have seemed clear to them. She could quite see that, and understand their position.
Why couldn’t they understand hers?
The sun was tempered by a slight breeze coming off the river. Even so, its rays soaked into Jodie’s skin, making her drowsy. She fell into a semi-sleep, dreaming of Milo’s skilled hands bringing her body alive, of his terrible scars, and how they had come about, of her father, who had at last noticed her, but for all the wrong reasons. Damn it, this had been a lovely dream, until her father intruded. She closed off images of him, aware of the liquid oozing out of her as she relived her time in Milo’s bedroom. Jodie let out a needy little sigh, wondering if Milo’s distant attitude meant no action replay would be forthcoming.
Damn it, why was he sending her so many mixed messages? She ticked off the confusing signals on her fingers, wondering what she was supposed to make of them. He didn’t shower with his bed partners, yet he had showered with her. He didn’t reveal his scars to anyone, and yet he’d allowed her to touch them when she washed his body. He didn’t sleep all night with the women he played with, and yet he’d slept like a baby with her head resting on his chest.
Now he hardly wanted to speak to her.
Men!
She didn’t think she’d fallen completely asleep, but must have done. She was woken by a firm hand shaking her shoulders.
“Jodie, wake up.”
“Hmm.” She blinked, drowsy and disorientated, unable to see much because the sun was right overhead. “What is it?”
Milo crouched in front of her chaise, waving his cell phone beneath her nose. “Your dad,” he said softly. “He’s heard about the photograph, I’m afraid. One of the big papers contacted him.”
“Oh, shit! Bet he’s not too happy.”
Milo’s lips twitched. “I think he’s had better days. He just tore me a new one for letting it happen.”
“You weren’t even there.”
“Don’t sweat it. I’m a big boy and can give as good as I get. He’s on hold, wants to talk to you. Are you up to that?”
“No, but he won’t give up until he’s yelled at me as well.” Jodie sighed as she reached her hand out for the phone. “Let’s get it over with.”
“Press that green button.”
As he handed over the phone, their fingers clashed. Jodie widened her eyes, blown away by the charge that spiraled through her at the simple contact. She glanced up at Milo and could tell from his expression, his look of black surprise, he felt it, too. He didn’t waste time examining his feelings, but quickly stepped away from her, the coward! Jodie thought he would make a swift exit and give her some privacy. To her surprise, he took a seat opposite her chaise and sent her a brief, yet devastating smile. It was like he was battling with himself. He didn’t want to stay, but thought she needed protecting from the man on the other end of the phone, who was thousands of miles away and had long ago lost the ability to control her. The better she got to know this annoyingly complex, intelligent, drop-dead gorgeous Brit, the less she understood him.
Sighing, Jodie took a deep breath and pressed the green button.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Jodie, what the devil’s going on over there? I’ve told Hanson I don’t want him looking out for you. The man’s obviously incompetent.”
I’m fine thanks, Dad. How are you? “I’m happy with Milo, thanks.”
“Which tells me all I need to know about your judgment. Do you realize what’s happening over here now this story’s gotten out? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Jodie wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to that, so she said nothing, letting him rant on, hoping he’d get it out of his system. When that showed no signs of happening, something inside her snapped.
“Sorry, Dad, you’re breaking up. Must be a bad signal. I can’t hear a word you’re saying.” She chanced a brief glance at Milo, astonished to find him sending her a full-wattage, non-contrived smile. At last she’d gotten through to him, even if he was just sympathizing over her dad. Not that it mattered. Pathetic creature that she was, she’d take what she could get of him. “No, sorry, I didn’t get that, either.” She stifled a giggle when Milo placed his hands over his ears, implying he could hear her father yelling when the phone wasn’t even on speaker. “I’m gonna have to call you back. Bye.”
She ended the called and expelled another deep sigh. Dealing with her father was exhausting at the best of times. When he was mad at her, it was completely impossible. He had only ever cared about number one, and nothing had changed in that respect. She caught Milo’s gaze focused on her face, serious and concerned. To her utter astonishment, she then saw the funny side of the situation, and laughed aloud. Instead of carting her off to the funny farm, Milo laughed too, a deep, rich belly laugh, which is when Jodie really lost it. She laughed until she cried, tears streaming down her face, probably making her eyes look blotchy and unattractive, but still she was unable to stop.
It was cathartic, and when she finally managed to get control of herself she felt a whole lot better. So what if Milo didn’t want her anymore? So what if she’d been accused of being a terrorist? So what if she’d messed up her dad’s career? No one had died, the world continued to spin, and—best of all—she hadn’t given in to her father’s bully-boy tactics.
“Sorry,” she said
, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “But if you could have heard him—”
“I did. So did half of Battersea, I would imagine.”
“He’s not a happy bunny,” Jodie said, sobering. “His language wasn’t at all senatorial, but I suppose I can’t blame him for that.”
“Sounded like he’s got a poker stuck up his arse.”
Jodie agreed. “How did the press get onto him so quickly?” she asked. “That picture was only taken a couple of hours ago.”
“Ah, the wonders of the Internet age. Once the connection was made to your father it was always going to be a big story. Especially at this time of year. August is a slow news month.”
“Oh.”
She expected Milo to leave her again. He didn’t. Instead he remained where he was, focusing a deep, penetrating gaze upon her face, his own expression dark, unreadable. The only sound was the traffic in the street several floors below them, and a radio playing softly in a nearby apartment. Jodie was still miffed by his earlier treatment of her, and wanted to be the one to get up and walk out this time.
She didn’t move. She couldn’t seem to find the will. Instead their gazes locked, and held. She drowned in the depths of his beautiful gray eyes, willing the moment to last indefinitely. She ought to say something to defuse the situation, assure him she expected nothing more from him. Liar! Words were beyond her. God, she loved him! Even more than she had for the past ten years now she knew he was less than perfect, physically and mentally. She moistened her lips, and he groaned. But still he didn’t speak. Sexual tension fuelled the atmosphere, and it was that which finally galvanized Jodie into action.
“What do you want from me?” she asked quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t play games, Milo Hanson,” she replied, getting annoyed. “You know very well you’re sending me mixed messages, and I want to know why. I think you owe me that much.”
“You’re very beautiful when you get mad. Your eyes burn like a raging bush fire. Has anyone ever told you that?”
Jodie sprang to her feet. “Don’t you dare patronize me!”
“I wasn’t. Believe it or not, I was trying to pay you a compliment.” A smile tugged at his sculpted lips. “You’re supposed to thank me. It’s polite.”
She snarled at him with her face averted, unable to meet his heavy-lidded, seductive gaze for fear of revealing her deep desire for him. When he looked like he did right now, a little boy lost, sad, and confused, her feelings for him went off the chart. “What would you know about polite?” she asked petulantly.
“I’m trying here, Jodie,” he said, his voice sounding strained as he dropped his head into his splayed hands and shook it from side to side. “Really trying.”
“Is that what you do with all your conquests? Have your wicked way with them, then don’t want to know.”
His head shot up. “That’s not fair.”
She sent him a challenging glare. “Isn’t it?”
“Hal told you, didn’t he?” he asked after a prolonged, heated pause. “About my leg.”
“Yes.”
“Then you know what’s wrong with me, if anything’s wrong.”
“Because I want to help refugees?” She tossed her head, wishing he’d stand up so she could batter his chest with her fists. Something, anything to relieve the growing frustration swelling inside her. “You, Hal, and I aren’t joined at the hip, Milo. This is for now, not forever. Live for the moment, or tell me to go to a hotel.” She folded her arms and turned away from him. “I can’t handle the cold shoulder, nor do I deserve it. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
She walked the length of the terrace, as far away from him as she could get. Jodie stared out at the river, hugging her arms across her torso, willing the tears that had sprung to her eyes not to fall. She’d been wrong about Milo. Wrong to spend all these years lusting after him. He wasn’t worth it.
She didn’t hear him stand up. Hal was right—he was as smooth and silent as a panther when it suited his purpose. The first time she realized he’d approached her was when his arms slid around her waist from behind, covering her own. She gasped, and tried to struggle out of his grasp. Not that she tried all that hard. Anyway, she never would have managed it. He was way too strong for her and, anyway, her insides went into free fall the moment he touched her, making escape out of the question.
“Sorry,” he said, nuzzling her hair with his lips. “I’m a jackass sometimes.”
“No arguments from me on that one.”
“Forgive me, baby.”
He turned her in his arms and transferred his lips from her hair to her mouth. Jodie didn’t care if she seemed like a pushover—she simply couldn’t resist him when he displayed his neuroses. His arms slid around her neck, playing with her collar. She parted her lips, allowing his tongue free access to her mouth, and could feel the full and impressive extent of his erection pressing against her belly. She managed to expel a needy little moan around their kiss, emptied her mind of her grievances, and simply kissed him back.
“Come on,” he said, breaking the kiss far too soon for Jodie’s liking.
He took her hand and led her to the chaise she’d been resting on earlier. Now she understood why it was so large. Presumably he made a habit out of bringing his women here to admire the view. She quelled the jealousy this thought engendered, took her own advice, and lived for the moment.
Sitting down, he pulled her into his lap. She leaned her head against his shoulder, wondering where this was leading—hoping she knew.
“You’re the first woman ever to see what happened to me. Did Hal tell you that?”
“Yes, he did. That’s why I didn’t understand—”
“Jodie, I never should have started this.” He shook his head. “I’m your solicitor, your lawyer, or whatever. It’s not professional.”
She bit her lip in an effort to hold back a smile. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Even so.”
“Then why did you? Start it, I mean. Invite me to stay here. It was obvious you didn’t like me, or what I stood for, when you came to the police station, so why inflict yourself with me?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t seem to help myself.” He emitted a hollow laugh. “I think I must have a death wish, or something.”
“Because our views differ?” She widened her eyes, unable to understand why it should matter to him so much, in spite of his disfigured leg. It wasn’t as if she was staying indefinitely. “I know you’ve seen more horrible things than I could ever imagine. I know you have good reason not to trust displaced people, and you think I’m hopeless naïve, but—”
He placed a finger against her lips to shut her up. “All of those reasons,” he replied. “I don’t usually look into a woman’s politics if I’m attracted to her, but there’s something different about you.” His voice was a soft, persuasive purr that vibrated through her body, sending delicious desire rioting through her bloodstream. His eyes, dark and intense, shimmered with hot intentions. “And I want you so much it hurts worse than my fucking leg ever did.”
Jodie moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and sent him a sexy, challenging smile. “Then quit talking and do something about it.”
Chapter Eleven
Milo shook his head in response to Jodie’s challenge. Even if he wasn’t competitive by nature, it would have been beyond him to reject it. He felt something inside of him erupt when their gazes collided, as though a hidden part of him had been released from a cage. Desire waged war against common sense, a one-sided battle that was over before it even began. Milo reminded himself not to overthink the situation, and go with his instincts.
Carpe diem.
“I guess Daddy already wants to fire me,” he said, brushing the hair away from Jodie’s forehead, and planting a kiss on the bridge of her freckled nose. “Might as well live down to his expectations.”
“I want another lesson, Milo.” She reached
up and tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging at it, her expression a combination of resolution and desperation. “What you and Hal did to me last night, what Hal did to me this morning, changed something inside me.” She blinked eyes that burned with passion. “It’s as though I’m just finding out who I’m supposed to be.”
“You like being given orders?”
“Yeah.” She laughed self-consciously. “Who would have thought it? I don’t usually take well to authority, to being told what to do.”
Milo laughed. “I guess your daddy’s finding that out for himself.”
“It’s a bit late for him to play the part of the caring parent.” She wrinkled her pert little nose. “Half the time while I was growing up, I think he forgot he even had a daughter.”
Milo came from a close, perfectly normal family, so didn’t feel qualified to comment.
“It’s not uncommon for people in our scene to act completely out of character, once they put the day job behind them and stop behaving the way the world thinks they should,” he said instead. “That’s why people go to BDSM clubs. They’re in an arena where no one will judge them because everyone is there for similar, hedonistic reasons that to the outside world might seem warped or twisted. Highly intelligent captains of industry can be found cleaning the floor with a toothbrush held between their teeth, or having a Dominatrix walking over their chests in five-inch spiked heels, stuff like that.”
“Yin and yang?” Jodie frowned. “The clever guys need to cede their responsibilities for a while, and live out their fantasies.”
“Precisely. We all have alter egos that need airing occasionally.” He canted his head and fixed her with a penetrating look. “So, what’s your fantasy, darling? What do you lie in bed of a night, dreaming about?”
She choked on a gurgle of laughter. “I couldn’t possibly tell you that.”
“Oh, but that’s the whole point of this game. You become someone else. You’re no longer Jodie Bisset, American vigilante, but—”
