Lorelei James: Bound

Amery was too tired to argue. She closed her eyes when Chaz kissed her forehead. Her mind blanked out the hushed voices until they faded completely and sleep teased the edges of her consciousness.

Ronin’s deep voice roused her again. “You can’t sleep in the chair.”

Dammit. Why wouldn’t everyone just leave her alone? “Fine. I’ll go sleep in my bed.” She mustered the will to push upright. Her feet seemed to be encased in cement blocks as she trudged to the back door that led to her loft. After nearly tripping, she slapped herself in the face to stay focused. Seeing the twisty metal staircase leading to her living space put an extra spring in her step.

A hard hand landed on her shoulder. “Slow down. Don’t want this pretty face of yours smacking into the concrete.”

She wheeled around. “What are you still doing here?”

“Helping you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Seriously.”

“Seriously. I don’t know.” He encroached on her space, coming chest-to-chest with her. “So will you please cut me a break and let me make sure you fall face-first in your bed and not on the floor?”

Something . . . oddly sweet flickered in his penetrating stare, and her flip comment dried up. “Thank you, Ronin.”

He smoothed her hair from her cheek. “My pleasure.”

Why didn’t it bother her that he touched her with such familiarity? Amery turned away before she did something stupid like face-plant into that amazing chest of his.

He followed her closely up the stairs. That breathing-down-her-neck proximity didn’t change when she cut toward her bedroom. She crawled into the unmade bed and wrapped her arms around the closest pillow with an enormous sigh.

A soft laugh sounded behind her.

Then she felt him unzipping her boots. She wiggled her toes and sighed again.

“Need my help with the rest of your clothes?”

She cracked one eye open and looked at him. “Nice try.”

“I could point out half of what you’re wearing belongs to me and it’s within my rights to demand you return it.”

“Go away, Ronin.”

“I will.” He covered her with her comforter. “But I’ll be back.”

That’s the last thing Amery remembered.

THE following day Amery felt Ronin Black’s eyes on her before she knew he’d entered her office. No lie, the man had that stealthy approach down. She spun her chair toward him and her belly cartwheeled at the heated way he looked at her.

She continued her phone conversation, but her focus remained on him. “No. That isn’t a problem at all. Absolutely. I can have the changes to you by tomorrow. Thank you.” She hung up. “I assume Molly sent you back?”

Ronin leaned against the doorjamb, looking delectable and dangerous in a short-sleeved black polo, dark jeans, and modified combat boots. “Yes. She said to tell you she was going to lunch.”

“So, Master Black, why are you here?”

“Ronin,” he corrected.

“Okay, Ronin. What brings you by today?”

“I want to hire you.”

She hadn’t been expecting that—and maybe she felt a tiny kernel of disappointment that he wasn’t here because he intended to act on this undeniable attraction between them.

Maybe he’s disappointed that you haven’t acknowledged how much he helped you out yesterday.

Guilt for her oversight caused her to blurt out, “Thank you for sticking around and dealing with the glass installers yesterday morning after I went comatose.”

“You’re welcome. The workers didn’t milk the installation time with me watching them.”

She suspected Master Black’s displeased glare was hot enough to melt glass.

“Besides, it gave me a chance to look at your graphic art work more closely and decide to hire you.”

“Hire me for what?”

“To create a new logo for Black Arts. I’d like to scrap what we’ve got and start from scratch. Is that a project you’d be interested in tackling?”

I’d rather tackle you.

She fought the pull of this man’s incredible magnetism and put a lid on those I want to jump you thoughts that were so unlike her. “I’m always interested in taking on new projects.”

“Good. Because I brought this.” Ronin sauntered into her office and handed her a rolled-up sheaf of papers. “Our current logo. Black Arts has always kept a low profile, which suits me. But my instructors have pointed out that we need an updated official logo that can be screen-printed on the back of gis and used for patches so Black Arts students are more recognizable when they compete in tournaments.”

“You don’t seem very enthusiastic about that prospect.”

His eyes never strayed from her face. “I’m enthusiastic about the prospect of working with you.”

Amery’s pulse leaped.

“Are you free so we can discuss it over lunch?”

“When?”

“Now.”

She didn’t have anything scheduled, but part of her wanted to lie and claim she did. Lunch with the sexy sensei . . . she wasn’t sure she’d honed the feminine skills to cope with a man like him. But if she kept it focused on business? Business she could do. Amery smiled. “I’d love to have lunch with you. There’s a great bistro a few blocks away.”

“Maybe next time. I’ve already made reservations for us at Dillinger’s.”

Normally she’d bristle at such presumptive behavior. But Amery liked that he hadn’t stopped by as an afterthought, that he’d planned it. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll drive. I’m parked out front.”

“I’ll grab my purse and meet you.”

She quickly peeked in the bathroom mirror to check her hair and makeup. Thankfully her meeting with a new client earlier meant she’d put extra effort into her appearance today. One thing she loved about her job and owning her business? She didn’t have to dress to the nines every day. So donning a feminine business suit always bolstered her self-confidence. She’d need an extra boost in dealing with an enigmatic man like Ronin Black.

After locking the front door, she scanned the cars parallel-parked on the tree-lined block. No sign of him. She turned and her heart stopped. Ronin stood in front of a motorcycle.

His gaze moved over her, from the tips of her gray peep-toe pumps to the hem of her pink and gray tweed pencil skirt. His lips quirked. “Nice suit. Good thing the restaurant is only twelve blocks from here.”

“You don’t seriously expect me to climb on the back of that thing in this outfit?”

“Of course. I even brought you a helmet.”

“I don’t see how a helmet will keep my skirt from riding up and showing everyone in downtown Denver the color of my panties.”

“Then I guess you’d better sit real close to me to keep it a secret.”

“Maybe I should—”

He loomed over her. “It’s twelve blocks. If you hate the ride over, I’ll call a cab to bring you back here after lunch. But you’ve got to at least try it. You know you want to.”

How had he known that? “I’m putting myself in your hands, Ronin.”

“You have no idea how much that appeals to me,” he murmured.

His words flowed across her as potent as a caress.

“Hold still.” He slipped the helmet on and flipped the visor up. “Is it pinching anywhere?”

“No.”

Ronin swept her hair over her shoulders. He draped her long purse strap over her head, positioning her purse against her hip. “Let’s go.” He closed the visor and dug the keys out of his pocket before he climbed onto the bike.

Talk about a nice butt. Good thing the visor hid her lustful eyes—not good to be drooling over a new client.

And she might’ve pulled off her silent reminder to keep it professional, if she hadn’t been forced to sit so close to him on the bike seat that angled down, smashing her crotch against that nice ass. All professional thoughts vanished when she wrapped her arms around his hard muscular core as they zoomed through city traffic.