Yvonne Lindsay - Seducing The Enemy - The Wayward Son

She got up and placed her bowl and spoon on an empty tray at the end of the sideboard. Judd stood and blocked her path as she went to walk past him.

“Now, why would that be, I wonder?” He lifted one finger and traced the edge of her lower lip. “Could it be that you’re anxious to repeat that kiss we shared in Adelaide?”

“N-no, of course not,” she refuted.

“Really?” he said softly. “Do you ever think about it?”

She shook her head and he leaned in a little closer.

“I do.” He let his hand drop. “And I look forward to the next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” she said adamantly, nudging past him and heading for the door.

He watched her leave with a small self-satisfied smile on his face. Oh, yes, these next few days would prove very interesting indeed.

Anna shot up the stairs to her bedroom and closed the door firmly behind her as if another barrier could make a difference to the way Judd Wilson made her feel. She rested a hand on her chest, feeling her rapid heartbeat beneath her palm.

He’s just teasing me, she told herself. Playing games like a cat with a mouse. I certainly don’t want a repeat of that kiss.

Liar! her alter ego whispered in her ear. She shook her head to rid herself of the word echoing in her mind and mentally rechecked her luggage for the trip away. She had everything she needed and then some. All of it nondescript and practical, with not a single low-cut neckline or suggestive hemline amongst it all.

Externally, at least, there’d be nothing about her to tempt Judd Wilson. She hadn’t been unaware of his presence these past days. In fact, she could almost say she’d been hyper-aware of him. She’d chosen the blandest combinations of clothing she possibly could every single day, and yet, on several occasions, she’d caught him looking at her as if he’d like to eat her all up.

The visual image of him doing just that forced a moan from her constricted throat. The flat of her hand drifted down to her breast, to where her nipple peaked against the fabric. She couldn’t deny it. He had a near uncontrollable effect upon her.

Sex. It was just sex. He was a strong healthy male and he hit all her hot buttons. She really needed to get out more, she decided. Meet new people. Maybe when she got back she’d get a hold of one of the guys at work who was always teasing her about a date. Maybe then she would be able to work this aching tension out of her body and inure herself to Judd Wilson’s overwhelming magnetism. She’d get onto it the minute they got back, she promised herself. The very second.

Anna was shattered by the time they made it back to their riverside hotel in Nelson on Thursday night. They’d arrived at Nelson airport just after two in the afternoon and had hopped into their rental car and driven straight out to the first of two vineyards and wineries that they’d visited today.

The visits, and subsequent talks, had gone well. Nicole’s dream was being well and truly brought to reality. Anna fought back the pang that her friend wasn’t the one actively seeing her idea come into fruition. Still, it couldn’t be helped. She’d made it clear that she’d washed her hands of Wilson Wines, her father and, by association, Anna and Judd, as well. It still hurt that her best friend had severed all ties between them so instantaneously, but she had to respect Nicole’s decision.

She rubbed wearily at her eyes, feeling as if she had no more control of her life right now than a leaf did, floating on the river outside. Warm fingers closed over her forearm.

“Are you okay?”

Judd. Always Judd. Always right there, in her face, in her space, in her mind. Somewhere along the course of this week she’d begun to depend on him—on his unwavering sense of command and his capable manner. Even Charles had begun to defer to him—something Anna had never believed she’d see in her lifetime. She had to get a grip on herself—to break the spell Judd was so easily waving about her. She opened her eyes and looked pointedly at where his hand made heated contact with the bare skin of her arm.

“You can let go of me. I’m not about to keel over,” she said tartly.

“Of course you’re not. Here, this is your room key. We have adjoining rooms. I thought we should eat in tonight and then go over the proposals we discussed with John and Peter today.”

“And I suppose we must do this tonight?”

“It’ll pay to iron out any potential kinks early, don’t you agree?”

“Sure,” she said, resignation in her voice. “I’d like to freshen up a bit before we eat.”

“No problem. I’ll order for both of us and have it delivered to my room. Just come through the connecting door when you’re ready.”

When she was ready. That was rich. How about never, she thought defiantly. But she knew she would go through to his room to dine with him. She owed it to Charles if no one else. Already rumors had begun to circulate this week about Jackson Importers approaching at least three of Wilson Wines’ major European suppliers. They’d had exclusive contracts with those suppliers but they were all coming up for renewal. A fact that Nicole had known only too well. Was she behind this attempt to undermine her own father?

“Sounds good. Give me half an hour.”

“There’s no big rush. Take an hour if you need it.”

“Thanks, I will.” Another hour she didn’t have to spend in his company was all good as far as she was concerned.

When she let herself into her room, she cast her eyes around, familiarizing herself with the layout. Basic but comfortable, were the first two things that came to mind, until she stepped into the bathroom and saw the spa bath installed against a white-tiled wall. A sound of anticipation mixed with pure pleasure escaped her and, as she ran the bath, she quickly divested herself of her travel-worn clothes.

She lost track of how long she’d soaked until she heard a muffled knocking from the connecting door. She dragged herself from the water and wrapped herself in a towel. A quick glance at the bedside clock confirmed she’d used up her one hour of grace.

“I’ll be right there,” she shouted at the closed door, and quickly dried herself off.

She unzipped her case and grabbed fresh underwear, the sheer shell-pink panties clinging a little to her skin as she shimmied into them. She hooked up her bra and then padded on bare feet back to the bathroom to apply some moisturizer and to brush out her hair. She wasn’t going to the effort of reapplying her makeup, not when she hoped to be in bed—her own bed, and alone—very soon.

Back in the main room she extracted a lightweight, loose-fitting cotton sweater in taupe and a pair of black Capri pants, before shoving her bare feet into a pair of silver leather slides. A long silver chain with a large silver spinner on the end completed the ensemble. There, that should do it, she decided.

Another knock at the connecting door startled her. She reached out and pulled open the door. Her gaze flicked over him as he filled the frame, making her wish she’d waited a few seconds for him to move away before opening the door. He’d obviously had a shower and changed, too, and her nostrils twitched at the light scent of his cologne. His hair was still wet, making it look blacker than black, and his jaw looked freshly shaven. He’d changed into blue jeans and a black T-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and chest as if it were made for him. Probably was, she thought cynically. He’d never looked anything less than tailor-made this whole time she’d known him.

“You look worth the wait,” Judd said smoothly.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked, ducking under his arm and moving into his room.