Irresistibly Exotic Men. Laura Iding

of weariness and caution.

      “Okay,” Luke conceded.

      “Oh, and Luke?” Connor said suddenly.

      “Yeah?”

      “Get a massage. Otherwise you’ll get a headache.”

      Luke cut the call then settled back in the seat. Beth was on her phone, pressing buttons. “I missed a called from the agent and she texted me,” she said. “We can call her back in an hour.” She returned the phone to her pocket. “A bit pointless now, though.” She sighed and changed the subject. “So you’re up for a promotion.”

      “Yeah.”

      “What’s the job?”

      “Vice president of international investments.” He tapped the phone against his knee, thoughts churning.

      “Think you’ll get it?”

      “Right now, I have no idea.”

      Silence fell. Then, “This is not good, is it?” she asked softly.

      Luke finally glanced over and their gazes met.

      There it was again, that odd vulnerability. It jarred deep inside, stirring long-buried feelings that set his whole body on alert even as he tried to quash it. He’d given up on that dumb compulsion years ago. But now, looking into Beth’s face with those wide green eyes and that guarded expression, he felt the familiar overwhelming urge to protect her from all the world’s wrongdoings.

      She doesn’t need you to look after her. You need her out so you can sell that house and give Rosa the much-needed money. Then things will go back to normal.

      “Well,” he said slowly, “it’s not all bad.”

      “And what’s your definition of ‘bad’?”

      “No one got hurt and we have some answers.” He settled back in the seat and laced his fingers behind his neck. “On a scale of one to ten it’d rank at about seven.”

      “Including the press ambush?”

      He arched one dark brow. “Now you see why I wanted to fly solo? The press would eat you alive.”

      Beth swallowed. How little he knew. And why was he picking her apart with that look? She needed the Luke of last night—arrogant and argumentative—so she had a legitimate reason for disliking him.

      For one heartbeat Beth wondered what it’d be like to have all that long-lashed, dark-eyed charm smiling only for her.

      She stared at his mouth. A delicious-looking mouth with a full bottom lip. A totally kissable mouth that a woman with half a brain would fantasize about.

      Don’t even think about it. Luke was definitely a “love ‘em and leave ‘em” guy. Unpredictable, career-devoted and an attention magnet. Attention she had spent years avoiding. Getting involved with him—however superb the encounter promised to be—was the last thing she needed.

      She looked away even as her skin began to tingle annoyingly. “What’s our next move?”

      “So you’re determined to stay?”

      “I still have a lease, in case you’ve forgotten. Legally—”

      “Look, if you were in any position to call a lawyer you would’ve done it hours ago. Right? So if you’re not moving out and won’t consider my offer, it leaves with me with only one option. I’m moving in.”

      Her mouth gaped before she snapped it shut. “That’s not funny.”

      “I’m not joking. I’ve got reporters camped out at my apartment, so I can’t go back without leading them to the house. And—” He stopped abruptly, but she already knew what he’d been about to say.

      I still don’t trust you.

      Well, fine. She didn’t trust him, either.

      “Take it or leave it, Beth. Do we have a deal?”

      As the moment stretched in the cool silence, Luke tried to ignore that wide-eyed stare, the frustration and indignation playing out so clearly on her face. Tried, but somewhere inside, something tugged annoyingly on his conscience.

      Finally, she said, “Why are you doing this? There’s nothing more to find out and the house will be yours in three months.”

      “Because I’m involved.”

      “You want to make sure your name stays out of the papers.”

      “Yes. And because, a long time ago, there was no one there to help me or my family.” He deliberately avoided those accusing eyes, lingering instead on her mouth.

      Damn. Bad move.

      “You were told the owners were overseas, right? So why would they lie to you? Plus, there’s the mater of your missing money.”

      Luke watched her expression go from shock to resentment, her cheeks twin flaming spots of frustration. He could practically see the steam coming from her ears.

      “Get on board or leave, Beth.” He added, “I can help with your bank problem—”

      She pulled out her phone and dialed while Luke remained in frustrated silence.

      “So a woman came in claiming she was a friend of the owners requesting the tenant be ‘preferably female, single, nonsmoker, employed or owning own business.’”

      She nodded, studying him as he proccessed that information. “It’s time to pay my aunt a visit.”

      Luke must have let something slip in his expression because a small frown marred her forehead as she studied him.

      “You don’t want to see her,” she said slowly.

      He shrugged. “What makes you say that?”

      “Oh, the scowl, the tight jaw. The way you’re narrowing your eyes right now. Plus the lawyer told you in no uncertain terms you should.”

      He remained stubbornly silent until he finally said, “I haven’t seen her since Gino’s will reading two weeks ago.”

      “So why—”

      “It’s complicated.”

      “I see.”

      And still she continued to sit there, watching him in silent scrutiny until frustration seeped warmly from his skin.

      “First this inquiry, then Gino’s heart attack, the funeral. She’s been through a lot.”

      “So have you.” When she tilted her head, a blond curl slid across her cheek. “All that anger isn’t good. You should see someone.”

      “I don’t need a shrink.”

      She brushed the curl away. “I meant a physiotherapist or masseuse.”

      “It’s nothing sleep can’t fix.” He stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankle before eyeing her speculatively. “You know, we’re more alike than you think.”

      “Really?”

      He ignored the sarcasm. “We’re both work driven, handling a lot of stress, and now we’ve got this situation messing up our lives. Which brings me back to my original problem. What’s our connection, Beth Jones?”

      “I know as much as you do.” She glanced out the window as they passed the sign to Sunset Island.

      “Sure.”

      “So you think I’m hiding something.”

      “I’ll bet my fifteen years at Jackson and Blair.”

      “And in fifteen years you’ve become a master of avoiding a question,” Beth pointed out.

      “What question?”

      “Relaxation?