The Complete Red-Hot And Historical Collection. Kelly Hunter

      ‘That’s because your rules are stupid.’

      ‘You agreed to them.’

      ‘I shouldn’t have.’

      ‘But you did. And now you’ve gone and broken the confidentiality clause.’ She nodded towards their table. ‘Because your friends just saw you kiss me.’

      His only response was to grab her hand and drag her off the dance floor, out of the bar, into the night, around the corner into an alleyway that was only a step above Ellington Lane in terms of desolation. Without a word he took her in his arms again, kissed her almost savagely. He wanted her so much—so much.

      Her hands grabbed the front of his shirt, clutching fistfuls of it, anchoring her as she kissed him back, and he thought, Thank God. She wanted him. She still wanted him. Everything else would fall into place as long as that fact held. Because without it why would she keep seeing him?

      There was a burst of sound as the bar’s main doors opened, disgorging a group of people into the night, and sanity returned. The doors closed again. A low conversation, a trill of laughter from the departing patrons. Scott pulled back, waiting to see if he and Kate would be discovered, but the group passed by. All was quiet again.

      And Scott suddenly felt utterly, utterly miserable.

      He stepped away, shoved his hands in his hair, looked at Kate.

      ‘What was that about?’ she asked—as usual, going straight to the point in the way he just bloody loved.

      ‘I wanted to kiss you, that’s all.’ Could he sound any more defensive?

      ‘So what happens if I ask you—now—to come inside and dance with me, in public, in front of your friends?’

      Tight, fraught pause. Scott stuck his hands in his pockets. ‘I don’t dance.’

      ‘No, you don’t dance, do you? But that doesn’t mean I

      don’t, Scott, if I’m lucky enough to be asked. And I was dancing. Why did you drag me out here?’

      ‘Because—’ He broke off with a muffled curse.

      ‘Because… I was dancing with Brodie, perhaps?’

      One heavy heartbeat…two, three.

      And then, ‘Why is that a problem, Scott?’

      No answer. Because how could he explain without revealing everything that was wrong with him? All the reasons she would soon find someone better—whether it was Brodie or that barrister or someone else? How could he tell her that he needed to push it? Push it while he still had it in him to get over her when the inevitable happened?

      ‘Do you think I prefer him?’ Kate persisted.

      He shrugged as his hands dug a little deeper into his pockets. ‘If you do, that’s okay. Women…lots of women…do.’

      He said the words but his heart was threatening to leap into his brain and cut off his blood supply, oxygen, his synapse control—everything. Because it wasn’t okay. It would kill him.

      ‘Not lots of women, Scott,’ she said. ‘Chantal. And that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Chantal. The only woman who ever got to you. Enough to make you lose that prized control.’ Scott registered the fact that she knew about Chantal. Who’d told her? Did it even matter? He tested that in his brain. No, it didn’t. Because Chantal didn’t matter. It had been Brodie who’d mattered all those years ago, not Chantal. And now…only Kate mattered. Only Kate.

      ‘I’ll teach you to sail,’ he said, which was so far from an adequate response as to be classified as a non sequitur.

      ‘You don’t have a boat, remember? And I don’t have five thousand dollars since I ripped up your cheque—which, in case you’re too stupid to realise it, was only ever a Play Time prop. So no need to trade sailing lessons for my services like I’m a real prostitute. I’m already under contract. You’re getting the goods for free. Until the twenty-eighth, anyway.’

      She turned to walk away and his temper surged, hot and wild. His hands came out of his pockets and he grabbed her, spun her, gripping her upper arms, furious. ‘Don’t talk about yourself like that.’

      ‘Then stop making me feel like that by trading me to your friends,’ she shot back. ‘“She’s all yours.” Remember?’

      ‘All you have to do is tell him no. No, you’re not going sailing tomorrow. Tell him, Kate,’ Scott said, wanting to explode with the emotions churning in his gut, but hanging on…and on, and on.

      ‘I am going sailing tomorrow,’ she said. ‘As planned. Because he offered, without having to be shamed into it. But don’t worry, Scott. If anything happens between me and Brodie I’ll advise you. As I expect you to tell me if you hook up with one of those giggly hens. And that will be that, won’t it? Agreement null and void, as per the contract. Okay?’

      They stared at each other. Scott’s hands unclenched, slipped down her arms to her hands, held. The words were there in his chest. Not okay. Don’t do it to me. Don’t. Please, please don’t. Choking him.

      ‘Kate. Oh, God, Kate. I just—’

      But the bar doors opened again and Scott let go, stepped back, re-jamming his hands in his pockets at the sudden burst of sound. People were walking past, talking, laughing.

      And up popped his shield, like some automatic reflex. ‘Okay,’ he said.

      ‘Okay?’ she said, incredulous. And then, ‘Okay…’

      Her eyes closed.

      Long moment, and then she opened her eyes. ‘I don’t understand any of this. Why did you let Rob talk you into coming here when you knew I’d be here? It’s not what we’re about, is it? Drinks with friends?’

      ‘I wanted—’ Stop. Swallow. Confess. ‘I wanted to see you.’

      ‘You’re seeing me on Sunday. At noon. Remember?’

      ‘I remember. But who’ll be opening the door? Kate? Officer Cleary? Or Lorelei?’

      ‘Who do you want to see, Scott?’

      Silence. Because the answer had stuck in his throat. The way words always did.

      He saw her shoulders slump, as if she was defeated. Knew he wasn’t handling this. Wasn’t handling her. Wasn’t handling anything.

      ‘Surprise me,’ he said, and forced a smile. His I’m cool with that smile.

      Except he wasn’t cool with it. He wanted her to call him on what he’d said. To fight with him. Rage at him. Slap him if she had to. To demand more. More! To tell him that she deserved more and she wanted more. And she wanted it from him. To say, So step up to the plate, Scott Knight, and if you can’t give it to me I’ll find it somewhere else. I’ll find someone else. Someone…else.

       Say it—say it, Kate. You want someone else. Say it!

      But she gave him smile for cool smile instead. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll make sure it’s memorable for you.’

      And then she patted her hair into place. Twitched at her dress.

      ‘But now I’m going to go back inside to get my things. I’ve had a big week. A bad week. And I need to go home.’

      He wanted to take her hands again, but he couldn’t seem to get them out of his pockets. ‘Tell me. What happened with the case?’

      She looked at him. And the tears in her eyes almost undid him. But when she spoke her voice was like crystal. Clear and smooth and cold.

      ‘No fireside