sweats and headed to the
kitchen, all hope of continuing on projects left unfinished obliterated from
mind.
He had so much to do, then an
impromptu dinner party arose from the ashes, and what could he say? No. He
was too busy.
The opportunity to rush the
takeover came to him, and he took it, no questions asked. Now he wished he’d
faked an excuse to miss the party. He wasn’t ready for her icy exterior to
freeze him out. Nor had he been ready for her molten interior to contradict his
every thought. He had enough on his plate. Dealing with more had to take
occupancy on the back burner until things settled down.
Unfortunately, his mind was
nowhere near work. Overloaded, the gears distracted by the mere thought of an
auburn beauty with deadly sharp claws, fool that he was, kissing her as he had,
those passionate lips softening under his touch; he should have known she was
more than she seemed.
Listening to her tales of Africa,
then battle with her father right in front of him, the woman was hellfire
bottled up. He’d wanted only to shut her up, control her tongue for the
briefest of seconds.
He vowed never to make that
mistake again. Even touching a feline with just the tip of her tail caught in a
trap was a hunter’s worse nightmare. He could not imagine what she would be
like with her whole body trapped by marriage.
Giving up on getting anything
done, he went to bed, his thoughts settled on a very dangerous woman with hazel
eyes.
****
Cheyanne, while watching Rosa the
following morning, found it hard to believe the housekeeper knew nothing about
the forced marriage. Rosa and her mother were tight. If the company was having
troubles, Rosa would be the first to know. This mansion had ears in every
corner. Nothing could be said without Rosa knowing about it.
Louise, acting the part of the
surprised soon-to-be mother-of-the-bride had Cheyanne sick with disgust. The
pretense of both women made her think committing murder as reasonable.
Five hours later, she still had
no answers from either.
Dumping boxes and bags after an
impromptu but necessary shopping trip, she kicked off her shoes and headed
straight for a shower. A half hour later, toweled off and feeling much better,
she glanced in the mirror. The sorrow she could not hide hadn’t been washed
away. No matter how hard she tried, she could not forgive them for what they
were doing to her.
She went down to the rose garden,
roaming among the scented blooms. There was not a variety grown that her mother
did not have—the very reason she’d gotten the nickname Little Rose . When
little, if wanting to find her, all they had to do was look for her here.
Most of the time they never
looked, and she’d spent her childhood lost among the blooms and fallen petals.
She bent and sniffed a tempting
fragrance. The last four years she’d lived with sand, dust, and sweaty bodies,
not to mention tons of elephant dung. Here, among the blooms, life seemed to
slow down.
Inside the mansion, the doorbell
rang. Cheyanne wondered at the late afternoon visitor—her father not back from
University and her mother doing her usual, errands for charities. Rosa was at
the grocery store and Vito, their chef was too busy to answer a door. She went
inside, called to duty.
She opened the door and groaned. Mitch
was leaning against the exterior wall.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
“Is that any way to talk to your
betrothed?”
“You are not my betrothed. You’re
a man I’m being forced to marry.”
He held his gaze far too long on
her bare feet, his smile intermittent with a sudden glare.
Hell, she’d just been looked over
as if a prize calf at the state fair—and every square inch had felt the caress
of his gaze as if done by hands.
“Did you miss me while I was gone?”
he inquired.
Cheyanne snorted in his face.
“Missing you would be like missing a tooth extraction.”
He pushed from the wall. “Then it
should not matter to you why I am here.” He stepped
kitchen, all hope of continuing on projects left unfinished obliterated from
mind.
He had so much to do, then an
impromptu dinner party arose from the ashes, and what could he say? No. He
was too busy.
The opportunity to rush the
takeover came to him, and he took it, no questions asked. Now he wished he’d
faked an excuse to miss the party. He wasn’t ready for her icy exterior to
freeze him out. Nor had he been ready for her molten interior to contradict his
every thought. He had enough on his plate. Dealing with more had to take
occupancy on the back burner until things settled down.
Unfortunately, his mind was
nowhere near work. Overloaded, the gears distracted by the mere thought of an
auburn beauty with deadly sharp claws, fool that he was, kissing her as he had,
those passionate lips softening under his touch; he should have known she was
more than she seemed.
Listening to her tales of Africa,
then battle with her father right in front of him, the woman was hellfire
bottled up. He’d wanted only to shut her up, control her tongue for the
briefest of seconds.
He vowed never to make that
mistake again. Even touching a feline with just the tip of her tail caught in a
trap was a hunter’s worse nightmare. He could not imagine what she would be
like with her whole body trapped by marriage.
Giving up on getting anything
done, he went to bed, his thoughts settled on a very dangerous woman with hazel
eyes.
****
Cheyanne, while watching Rosa the
following morning, found it hard to believe the housekeeper knew nothing about
the forced marriage. Rosa and her mother were tight. If the company was having
troubles, Rosa would be the first to know. This mansion had ears in every
corner. Nothing could be said without Rosa knowing about it.
Louise, acting the part of the
surprised soon-to-be mother-of-the-bride had Cheyanne sick with disgust. The
pretense of both women made her think committing murder as reasonable.
Five hours later, she still had
no answers from either.
Dumping boxes and bags after an
impromptu but necessary shopping trip, she kicked off her shoes and headed
straight for a shower. A half hour later, toweled off and feeling much better,
she glanced in the mirror. The sorrow she could not hide hadn’t been washed
away. No matter how hard she tried, she could not forgive them for what they
were doing to her.
She went down to the rose garden,
roaming among the scented blooms. There was not a variety grown that her mother
did not have—the very reason she’d gotten the nickname Little Rose . When
little, if wanting to find her, all they had to do was look for her here.
Most of the time they never
looked, and she’d spent her childhood lost among the blooms and fallen petals.
She bent and sniffed a tempting
fragrance. The last four years she’d lived with sand, dust, and sweaty bodies,
not to mention tons of elephant dung. Here, among the blooms, life seemed to
slow down.
Inside the mansion, the doorbell
rang. Cheyanne wondered at the late afternoon visitor—her father not back from
University and her mother doing her usual, errands for charities. Rosa was at
the grocery store and Vito, their chef was too busy to answer a door. She went
inside, called to duty.
She opened the door and groaned. Mitch
was leaning against the exterior wall.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
“Is that any way to talk to your
betrothed?”
“You are not my betrothed. You’re
a man I’m being forced to marry.”
He held his gaze far too long on
her bare feet, his smile intermittent with a sudden glare.
Hell, she’d just been looked over
as if a prize calf at the state fair—and every square inch had felt the caress
of his gaze as if done by hands.
“Did you miss me while I was gone?”
he inquired.
Cheyanne snorted in his face.
“Missing you would be like missing a tooth extraction.”
He pushed from the wall. “Then it
should not matter to you why I am here.” He stepped
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