She scrambled to retrieve the sheet. ‘Says who? And where exactly do you think you’re taking me?’
‘To church. Where else?’ He wrestled the sheet away with ease when her fingers went numb.
‘I haven’t been inside a church since I was sixteen and I got kicked out of St Bude’s.’
‘Why did they kick you out?’
She sent him a glare while trying to grab back the sheet. ‘I seduced the biology teacher,’ she replied, hoping to shock him with the truth—and get her hands on the stupid sheet.
Instead of looking shocked, though, he only laughed, balling up the sheet and tossing it across the room. ‘Lucky guy.’
The lack of censure in his gaze as it roamed appreciatively over her exposed flesh made her cheeks heat. She tossed her hair over her shoulders, refusing to acknowledge the glow of contentment. So what if her many youthful transgressions didn’t appear to bother him in the slightest? It was only because he was as big a reprobate as she was, and consequently unshockable.
‘Sounds to me like you’re definitely overdue for a visit to church, though,’ he murmured. ‘You need to atone for that sin and a whole lot more I happen to have firsthand knowledge of.’
‘Not a chance.’ She surrendered the sheet in favour of a mad dash to the bathroom—only to have him capture her in mid-flight. Her breath whooshed out as he scooped her up and her back hit his chest.
‘FYI, honey,’ he whispered into her hair, ‘you’ll have to cut down your two-hour morning shower. The service starts at eleven. And we don’t want to be late.’
She struggled in earnest. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going. I’d probably get struck by lightning.’
‘God’s a whole lot more forgiving than you think.’ He nipped her ear lobe, laughing when she shuddered. ‘If I’ve never been struck by lightning, I figure you’re safe from divine retribution too.’ The soft, seductive murmur of his breath turned her knees to jelly. ‘Although, you may want to avoid going into the Lord’s house the way God intended you.’ He toyed with a nipple.
She slapped his hand away and escaped from his embrace, aroused now and more than a little disturbed by the invitation—and his insistence. ‘You are kidding, right?’
He had to be. Surely? She didn’t want to go to church. It would make her feel uncomfortable and hypocritical. Bringing back far too many memories of Sunday morning services at a succession of different boarding schools when she’d listened to the sermons with half an ear and refused to repent her many sins. And she definitely didn’t want to go to church with Carter. There would be people he knew there. People he might introduce her to. People who might still be in touch with Marnie. But, worse than that, those same people might assume they were a couple. And they weren’t.
‘No, I’m not kidding,’ he said, with strained patience, landing a playful slap on her butt when she stood rooted to the spot. ‘Now put a fire under it. I’d hate to drag you there naked, and scandalise the minister. But I will if I have to.’
She grabbed the discarded sheet from the floor and wrapped it around her body, protecting herself from that far-too-possessive gaze, but not managing to do much for the shiver of unease.
‘Carter, I am not going to church with you.’
His eyebrows winged up. ‘Why not?’
‘Because...’ She wound the sheet tighter. ‘Because people you know will be there.’
His mouth tilted in a puzzled smile. ‘Uh-huh, so?’
Good grief, he actually was serious.
‘So? So?’ Her voice rose as irritation got the better of her. ‘Meeting them would be...’ Wrong.
‘Would be what?’ he asked over his shoulder, while selecting a suit from the wardrobe and tugging the trousers off the hanger.
‘Pointless. Unnecessary,’ she ground out, groping for the appropriate word. ‘Misleading.’
His brows flattened into a frown as he zipped his trousers. ‘Why don’t you let me decide that?’ he replied as if he hadn’t just lost his mind. He shrugged on the suit jacket, then lifted her dress off the chair beside the bed and lobbed it to her—the same lemon-yellow shift dress that he’d peeled off her the night before. ‘Put that on—it’ll work.’
She caught the dress, and clasped it to her chest—starting to feel overwhelmed by that cast-iron will again, and not liking it one bit. ‘Carter, you’re not listening to me. There is no way I’m going to church with you.’
He approached her, looking impossibly debonair in the dark grey single-breasted suit. Placing warm palms on her shoulders, he massaged the tight muscles, digging into the knots of tension and making awareness skitter across her collarbone. ‘I want you there—why are you worried about people I know meeting you? I’m not.’
You should be, she wanted to say, but she didn’t, because it would make her sound cowardly and insecure. And she was neither of those things. Or she hadn’t been until she’d fallen under Carter Price’s spell again.
She gulped, refusing to give in to the flutter of panic—or the shimmer of arousal. And stepped out of reach of his magic hands.
Don’t overreact. He’s just a guy. He can’t cast a spell on you unless you let him.