But James Challender wasn’t like other men. He was not easily manipulated. He didn’t lie and cheat and lather on the charm to get his own way.
He didn’t fight dirty.
He didn’t play dirty.
She wanted to keep things physical between them but he kept pushing against her emotional armour. He wanted to uncover her. To expose her. To know her. The thought terrified her. Opening up to someone, laying it all bare was what weak people did. She was strong. Resilient. Self-sufficient. She relied on her wits and her body to get where she wanted to go. Her heart was not up for sale. ‘You like playing, too, don’t you, James? You want to play so bad.’
His eyes dipped to her mouth. She could read the battle playing out on his face. He wanted her but he was fighting it every step of the way. He took a deep breath and dropped his hold as he stepped back from her. ‘I’m going out.’
‘But it’s snowing.’
He gave her a black look over his shoulder as he left. ‘Good.’
* * *
James drew in a deep draught of icy air but it didn’t do much to quell the fire of wanting burning in his flesh. It was like trying to extinguish a wind-driven wildfire by spitting on it. Aiesha was living, breathing dynamite when she put her mind and body to it. He was hanging on to his self-control by a gossamer thread. He had never wanted anyone the way he wanted her. It was all he could think of—how he wanted her. Ached for her. Needed her. Hungered for her. Every sultry look she gave him made him throb with intense longing. She was the ultimate tease, ramping up his need every chance she could, switching tactics so deftly he didn’t know what to expect from her next. Temptress or doe-eyed innocent. Wild-child whore or lost waif. She did them all so well.
Last night had revealed a tiny chink in her armour but she was back to business now. He didn’t like being played. He didn’t like being a pawn in one of her mischief-making games. She got way too much power by playing the vamp. He had tried to get under her guard, to see the girl behind the mask, but she had pulled the curtain on him.
But he had seen enough to make him want to see more.
She had no close friends. She holidayed alone. She had taken the rap for a scandal caused by a wandering husband who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. She had lost her job and pretended it didn’t matter.
She composed music that was hauntingly beautiful for someone who had clearly meant a great deal to her....
Had anyone else heard that poignant piece of music? The depth of emotion in those few bars he’d heard had stopped him in his tracks. He could have listened to her for hours. She had looked so absorbed, so in the moment, she’d seemed to be lost in an internal world in which the music was somehow translating emotions she dared not or would not voice aloud. Those rising and falling cadences, those heartstring-pulling minor chords were still playing in his head, moving him, and haunting him still. The way the rhythm flowed, paused, and flowed again. But he had a feeling that particular piece was something she kept private. Why else had she looked so annoyed when he’d disturbed her?
There was so much about Aiesha he didn’t know. There was so much she kept hidden.
There was so much he wanted to discover.
She was complicated and contrary. Beguiling and bewitching and beautiful and bold and brazen. Maddening.
And yet...likeable.
His instincts had been right. She had been genuinely upset after her knockout blow to his nose. Even though she tried her best to hide it, her gaze kept going to his black eye with a little flicker of concern. He saw the way she chewed at the inside of her mouth when she thought he wasn’t looking. The way she deliberately tried to seduce him, but then pulled back whenever he took the lead. What was that all about?
James turned up his coat collar against the snow. He shoved his hands into his pockets and frowned.
It would be dangerous but he would have to get even closer to her to find out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AIESHA WAS TRYING to get to Archie in time... She was running as hard and as fast as she could but her legs were useless, powerless. They were shaking so much they felt as if they were made of overcooked spaghetti. Fear clotted the blood in her veins, it stole the oxygen from her lungs, it churned her stomach contents, liquefied and soured them in panic. She got a little closer. But then she stumbled over someone’s skateboard, fell to her knees, her arms reaching out, her voice hoarse from screaming, ‘Noooo!’
Aiesha sat bolt upright in bed, her throat raw from gasping and her chest pounding so hard she could hear the echo of it in her ears. The sound of her ragged breathing was deafening in the dead silence of the night.