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Still... Why had he given her his jacket? Because the chivalrous gesture was so out of keeping with his threats of punishment and the fact he was currently kidnapping her.
Not only that, but he’d saved her from falling off the boat and taken the impact of the fall when they’d hit a wave and she’d nearly capsized them both.
A completely inappropriate kick of awareness made her shiver again as the white tails of his shirt flapped around his torso—revealing a band of tanned skin, and another tattoo on his lower back. Was that an elaborate skull and crossbones to match the crossed cutlasses on his left pec?
Clearly, he was big on pirate iconography. Which was somewhat ironic, given that he had accusedherof being the pirate.
She huddled on the seat, to get out of the wind, and snuggled into his jacket, tired and confused and wary... But also not scared. Or not as scared as she probably ought to be. Because she was definitely being kidnapped.
But as her eyelids drooped, all she could picture was the dancing light in his eyes while he’d baited her—which had infuriated her a moment ago... But now only confused her more. Why did she get the impression this was all a big joke to him? And why had their argument been more exhilarating than upsetting? Was it because she had seen the blast of admiration in his expression when she’d challenged and provoked him?
Or had she totally misinterpreted that? Frankly, she knew next to nothing about flirting, because she’d never even had a proper boyfriend. It was one of the things her European jaunthad been supposed to remedy... As well as her plan to take the art world by storm, she had been on a mission to finally have some fun, to hang out with people her own age and lose her blasted virginity. But she hadn’t had the chance, because she’d been far too busy staying solvent to get up close and personal with any fit guys.
Yet another example of how Milly Devlin’s grand plan to kick-start a new life over the past year had been a complete and utter disaster.
She tucked her hands under her cheek, blinking furiously as she tried to stay awake. To stay alert. Forget about his charms, Roman Garner might be fit beyond her wildest dreams and exciting to spar with, but she also doubted she could trust him.
And not just because he was an arrogant billionaire kidnapper with a gargantuan ego. But also because he had a naughty, and undeniably hot, twinkle in his eye, which she had no idea how to handle.
Well done, Milly, never screw up small when you can screw up big.
But as the boat bounced over the waves, her eyelids became heavier, and her mind couldn’t quite get to grips with the unprecedented and unfamiliar awareness making her exhausted body feel different somehow, as it melted into the butter-soft leather seat...
CHAPTER TWO
ROMANSTEEREDTHElaunch against Estiva’s dock and cut the engine. He rubbed the back of his neck, as the familiar exhaustion that had been bearing down on him for months made its presence felt again after the brief shot of adrenaline caused by his boat thief. Added to that was a dazed feeling, courtesy of the newly acquired bump on his forehead.
One of the boathouse staff grabbed the line he threw and began tying it to the dock as his estate manager, Giovanni, appeared and climbed aboard.
‘We did not expect you to return so soon tonight, Signor Garner,’ the older man said, then blinked as he spotted the prone figure of Roman’s uninvited passenger, who was curled up on the bench.
‘You have a guest?’ his estate manager added, with a commendable lack of surprise. But then, Giovanni was nothing if not the soul of discretion.
‘Not a guest, a prisoner,’ Roman announced, while staring down at her, too.
She looked remarkably peaceful for a kidnap victim, he thought, cocooned in his jacket. Her bare toes peeked out from under the hem of her gown. Her face was serene and innocent in sleep, the smudged cosmetics making her look like a cross between an urchin and a trashed supermodel.
He frowned. Although she was too short to be a supermodel. In his experience, and he’d had quite a lot of experience with supermodels, they were always tall and undernourished. This girl’s body though had curves.
A memory flash of her pressed against him on the deck had something warm and fluid flowing through him. Annoyingly.
‘A prisoner,signor?’ Giovanni said, carefully. ‘She is here against her will?’ he asked politely, but there was enough of an edge for Roman to know his estate manager would rat him out to the police in a heartbeat if he thought there was anything untoward going on. Giovanni had four grown-up daughters, and was not above showing his disdain for Roman’s revolving door policy with dates. Which was one of the reasons he liked the guy.
Having never had a father and after being brought up without any boundaries whatsoever, Roman had a bad habit of employing only people he could respect. Unfortunately, that usually meant they were more than prepared to challenge him on his behaviour, despite the fact he was paying them a generous salary.
But right now, Roman was way too tired to deal with Giovanni’s disapproving frown or his passive-aggressive questions.
‘She tried to steal my boat... So stealing her right back seemed like a good idea at the time,’ he explained, although even he was beginning to see the flaw in that logic. ‘Plus, she has a phone, so she can call and let her family know where she is at any time.’ The fact said family included his nemesis Brandon Cade didn’t seem like quite such a boon either any more.
‘Except she is asleep?’ Giovanni said.
‘Which just goes to prove she’s not afraid of me,’ he argued, and scowled. Why was he defending his actions to a member of his staff? He certainly hadn’t had any wicked intentions when he’d brought her here. The swell of warmth as he stared at her, though, told a slightly different story...
Giovanni clicked his fingers at the young employee who was securing the gangplank. ‘Marco, carry Signor Garner’s guest to the pool house.’
But as the young man leapt aboard, Roman thrust out his forearm. ‘Leave her.’
The surge of possessiveness—at the thought of anyone but him having his hands on her—was almost as disturbing as the hot ache in his groin, which he didn’t seem to be able to shake...
