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A muscle jerked in his jaw. “If you want to protect her, you will let me do my job. If you do not fight this to win, Chloe, you will lose her. To him. And you know what he’s capable of. Would you really run the risk of a man like William raising your child?”
Her heart turned over in her chest. Sensing her indecision, Hendrix pushed forward his advantage. “You can’t have it both ways. The softer you are with him, the harder he’ll push. You know that. That’s why you came to my firm. That’s why you came to me.”
She closed her eyes. Her head hurt. Her heart ached. Her stomach churned. “Yes.” She exhaled a slow breath, and it fanned his forehead. His gut clenched in remembered pleasure at all that she was. “So? What next?”
His smile had been intended to reassure her, but it sparked a kaleidoscope of butterflies inside her soul. “There’s danger here too,” she said quietly, unable to stop herself from touching his face now. She cupped his cheek, her eyes conveying her worries.
“For both of us,” he promised, thinking how easy it would be to forget about what he owed his father and his sister. How easy it would be to forget that he had revenge within his grasp, and a means of wounding the person who’d taken so much from them.
Chloe’s frown showed her confusion, and he laughed.
“You think I don’t feel it too?” He asked, moving his head closer to hers, so that their noses almost brushed. “You’re the one who believes in fairy stories, and old fables. But I’m looking at you and seeing an angel.”
Her heart was leaping with such alacrity that it felt like a bird had become trapped in her breast. Hadn’t she decided that the wisest course of action was to steer clear of this man?
She had, she was absolutely certain of it.
And yet, she smiled at him, and the gentle curve of her soft pink lips carried all the agreement and promise in the world. Yes, it said. I want you too. I want this.
CHAPTER FIVE
“You know, you chop mushrooms like someone who’s only ever done so once or twice in his life.”
Hendrix raised his eyes, the laughter in them obvious. “Guilty as charged.”
Chloe wiped her hands on a tea towel and crossed to his side of the bench. “Here. I’ll show you,” she said quietly. He let her peel his fingers from the handle of the knife, and watched as she expertly and quickly scored ten deep marks into the small white button, and separated it as perfect slices. “Like this,” she said, choosing another mushroom and inflicting the same precision attack on it.
“Chop, chop,” Ellie cooed from her high chair, her own plastic knife digging into a stubborn piece of cheese.
Hendrix cast her a look of sardonic mirth. “Yes, I dare say you could do this better, Ellie.”
Chloe’s heart turned over painfully in her chest. It was the first time she’d seen Hendrix since that day in his office, and he was behaving like a true Prince Charming. He’d arrived early, brandishing flowers and a bottle of wine for her, and a set of Duplo for Ellie. And he’d immediately moved into the kitchen to help prepare lunch. Of course, Chloe now suspected his ‘help’ was a far greater hindrance, but she would never say as much. Not if it risked putting an end to the shockingly happy domesticity she was diving into.
“You’re doing a fine job. They don’t have to be perfect. They’ll get reduced in the sa
uce.”
“What exactly are we making?”
His use of the word ‘we’ brought a smile to her lips, because he had butchered seven mushrooms and done not much else. “Gnocchi. It’s Georgia’s favourite.”
“Ah. Your criminal friend,” he drawled quietly, earning an exaggerated roll of the eyes from Chloe.
“Yes. The very one.”
“You said on the phone that this is a family lunch. You meant Georgia?”
Chloe’s face showed pleasure. “Yes. I’m an only child. My dad and I aren’t close. Georgia’s more like a sister to me than a friend. We’ve had lunch together every Saturday for over two years. It’s a very small way that I can thank her for all that she does for Ellie.”
He chopped another mushroom, approximating the noise she’d made against the board, if not the effect. “Better,” she nodded with approval, scooping a generous knob of butter into the heavy based saucepan. As it began to sizzle and melt into a golden pool, she stirred it with the wooden spoon. “What about your family? Are you close?”
The mention of family almost had him dropping the knife. Guilt stabbed him but he quickly suppressed it. “My mother died when my sister was born. And then my sister died in a car accident a few years ago.” He deliberately shied away from the gentler term, passed away. “So it’s just my father and me, also.”
“I’m sorry,” her sympathy was so genuine and so intense that he shrugged uncomfortably. Her eyes skipped to Ellie, who was busy jabbing the cheese intently. “What happened with your sister?”
A hint of dark colour flushed against his cheeks. “A drunk driver,” he muttered. “She died instantly. No air bag.”
“Oh, Hendrix,” she put the wooden spoon down and stepped closer to him. “That’s awful. Were you close?”
