“But I need you.” She pouted.
“You’ll have to wait.” Jayden turned his back on her. “She’s every fucking where I turn. Not a minute’s fucking peace.”
“Tell me about it,” Carter muttered. “That’s why I threw the towel in.”
Jayden huffed and sucked on his smoke. “Where are these oranges?”
Wyatt slid his arm around Belle’s waist. “C’mon, let’s leave these guys to it.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m pulling my weight for the club tomorrow. This is the least they can do.”
She squeezed up against him, the scent of her sweet shampoo filling his nose.
“And there’s no Rigor or Teddy about,” she said quietly.
“My thoughts exactly.” He tugged her toward the staircase leading up to his apartment. “While the cat’s away…”
“The mice will play.” She giggled.
Once more, his heart lightened at the sound, and his belly gave a little squeeze. A warmth that had nothing to do with the sun flowed through his veins. Belle felt good, shewasgood … she was good for him.
And now, all he wanted to do was show her how happy he was to have met her.
What was more, he had a very personal, very sexy idea about how to do that.
****
Belle stepped into the silent apartment and dropped her bag on the sofa—so much for spending time with her dashing duke on the beach.
Perhaps another day.
The door clicked shut, then she heard a second click. The lock. Wyatt obviously didn’t want them to be disturbed, and that suited her fine.
When they’d been at the diner, she’d watched his sensual mouth as he’d spoken, studied his dark, sincere eyes and his mannerisms. Was he really someone she could trust?
Maybe.
He was so different from Billy. So different they could be from planets on opposite sides of the universe. Wyatt was who he was, and he didn’t want to be anything else. That was sexy as hell. And fuck, he hadn’t batted an eyelid about being stuck out in the ocean with sharks. While she’d freaked, he’d taken it in his stride. Billy, she was sure, would have argued with her about who would go into the water and untangle the net.
Jerk.
“Hey.” Wyatt wound his arms around her waist and pulled her back to his chest. “I’ve got a problem with your behavior, young lady.” His breath was hot and loud on her ear.
“Er, what?” She gripped his solid forearm, her hands pale against his dark ink and tanned skin.
“Don’t play innocent with me.” He pulled her closer still, and she was aware of a hard wedge of flesh pushing at her lower spine. “You know what you’ve done, or rather haven’t done.”
“Wyatt?” She half twisted to look at him, but he didn’t let her. Instead, he kept her held firm.
“You forget your station,” he said in a low, gruff voice. “You’re to address me as duke.”
“What?” She giggled.
“I am the Duke of … Buckingham.”
“Buckingham! Jeez, that’s posh.” She laughed harder.