Her palm tingled and her heart hammered as if its goal were to crack a few ribs. He stiffened, went completely rigid, but he backed away from her.
She leaped up and straightened her clothes. The knock sounded again and she struggled to bring her ragged breathing under control. She clasped her stomach with one hand, not daring to look at Connor, then rounded her desk to sit in her black leather chair.
“Come in,” she called.
She smoothed her hands over her hair. Fuck, she’d slapped Connor. Like actually physically assaulted him. She kept her gaze focused on the door. What the hell was going on with her? Losing it and freaking out as soon as things slipped a touch out of control. She’d turned into a horrible bitch she couldn’t recognize. Not to mention she’d just acted like a complete wanton bimbo at work. Tears stung her eyes and she bit her lip.
The door opened and she forced back tears. Gregory entered, file in hand. His gaze flicked from her strained expression to Connor, and she wondered what Gregory saw on Conner’s face. She didn’t have the nerve to look, afraid of what she might see. Gregory walked to her desk with a swing to his stride. His gaze settled on her like syrup, a look that said I-know-what-you’ve-been-up-to-you-slut.
“I hope I’m not interrupting?” he said.
Charlize cleared her throat, the skin on the entire upper half of her body burning with mortification. “It’s fine, Mr. Crowe was just leaving.” She glanced up and finally looked at him. His expression spewed volcanic fury—hot enough to turn her desk into a gooey glass sculpture. Yet under all that fire, the hurt in his eyes hit her square in the chest. Turned out even cavemen had feelings.
She really was a bitch.
Better he know now, better he keep his distance, better save them both the trouble. Save them both the pain. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Crowe, but I don’t think I’ll be needing any further assistance.”
A stiff, ironic smile drew his lips into a line. He nodded.
“Goodbye, Ms. Halifax.”
* * * * *
Connor climbed inside and slammed the heavy door of his ’69 Dodge Challenger. He turned the key and revved the engine. The motor roared like a demon. The seats vibrated with the deep, guttural rumble and he jerked the gear shift.
His fingers curled around the knob and he stopped, dropping his head back against the head rest. Accelerated blood flow still shot toward his cock, oblivious to the fact he’d just been shot down—big-time.
The she-cat hit him.
He touched his still-hot cheek and clicked his jaw. She knew how to put muscle behind a strike that’s for sure. A little technique and she’d be a real fighter. Probably a good thing she didn’t have formal training. Once again she’d flown off the handle needlessly. One no was all it took with him. The only boundary he’d never push.
Connor rolled his neck then looked over his shoulder and spun the car out of the parking space in reverse. White dust gathered behind him and he sped out of the lot, heading directly for the highway. He’d need another round at Alicia’s just to discharge the buzz.
Charlize might think she could hide her sensuality behind sharp-edged layers but slap or no slap, he’d seen the way she’d looked at him when she’d walked in. It was all he could do to remember they weren’t alone as she’d devoured him with her eyes. He hadn’t read her invitation wrong either. She’d been the one to part her thighs. Had been hot and wet underneath those pantyhose…
He groaned and wound down his window, letting the air cool the moisture on his skin. He’d have put her reaction down to nothing more than a bad case of control-freak-itis, if—if her big almond-shaped eyes hadn’t filled with tears. There was more going on in her uptight little head than she let on.
Still she was trouble. The kind of woman who’d mess with his head and his life, given the chance, because she’d never know what she wanted. He rested his elbow half out the window. Maybe it was a good thing she’d turned down protection. No chance he could protect her without the situation turning out exactly as she’d said. Getting close to her wasn’t what he’d intended when he’d volunteered to be her bodyguard, but damn—when she’d painted the scenario of how he’d watch her, he’d known it was true. He’d be on her like a tattoo.
His gut clenched and he rubbed his jaw. Unless she agreed to help she’d be on her own. Something told him unless she did something to calm the hell down, Charlize unsupervised wasn’t a good thing. Connor used his turn signal and changed lanes.
He could assign someone else to her if she’d allow that much.
The image of Charlize with another man at her back, another man watching her, another man protecting her, flashed in his mind and his grip tightened on the wheel. No chance in hell.