He isn’t your type, she told herself forcefully. Only it didn’t seem as though her body wanted to listen.

‘I thought perhaps I could introduce you to some people.’

‘Oh.’ That surprised her. ‘Is that why you came over, then?’

He hesitated, and then offered a grin that she supposed was meant to look rueful but just looked deliciously wicked instead.

‘Not really.’ He made it sound like a confession yet he deliberately didn’t elaborate and Anouk wasn’t about to play into his hands by asking him.

‘I see,’ she lied.

‘Do you indeed?’ he murmured. ‘Then perhaps you might explain to me why I couldn’t resist coming over here the instant I saw you walk in.’

Her chest kicked. Hard. It didn’t matter how many times she silently chanted that he couldn’t affect her, Anouk realised all too quickly that she was fighting a losing battle. She had no idea how she managed to inject a disparaging note into her voice.

‘Does that line usually work?’

‘I don’t know, I’ve never used it before. I’ll tell you next time I try.’

She bit her tongue to stop herself from asking when that next time would be. He was clearly baiting her, but what bothered her was that it was working.

‘Besides...’ his eyes skimmed her in frank, male appreciation, and everywhere his eyes moved she was sure she nearly scorched in response ‘...if I hadn’t come over then some other bloke would have. You’re much too alluring in that gown.’

‘But not out of it?’ she quipped.

His eyes gleamed black, his smile all the more wolfish. Too late, Anouk realised what she’d said.

‘Is that an invitation? I have a feeling I would be breaking quite a few harassment in the workplace rules if I admitted to imagining you out of that dress.’

‘I mean... I didn’t mean... That isn’t what I intended.’

‘Then be careful what you say, zolotse, you can build a man up too quickly otherwise.’

‘Zolotse?’ she echoed. It sounded... Russian, maybe?

‘Zolotse,’ he confirmed.

It was the way his voice softened on that word—as if he hardly knew what he was saying himself as he moved closer, his body so tantalisingly close to hers and his breath brushing her neck—that sent a fresh awareness singing through her veins. It made her forget even to draw breath.

Her mind struggled to stay in control.

‘You don’t intend to elucidate?’ She barely recognised her own voice, it was so laced with desire.

‘I do not,’ he muttered.

Now that she thought about it, Sol and Malachi both had a bit of a Russian look about them. But if they were Russian then it was something Sol didn’t share with many other people. Certainly it wasn’t common knowledge around the hospital.

Which only made her feel that much more unique.

Dammit, but the man was positively lethal.

* * *

Three hours had passed since she’d arrived.

Three hours!

It felt like a mere five minutes, and all because she’d been in Sol’s company.


Tags: Charlotte Hawkes Romance