Babysitting a Billionaire 3 : Taking Control(10)

Had he just not bothered to say anything or had he forgotten her as soon as she walked out the door? Or the alternative, that he was expecting her back.

She hated that she had no clue what was going on.

Did he think she had changed?

Personally, she considered she'd changed beyond all recognition. Both internally and externally. There was nothing of that girl left.

The man was still sitting at his desk outside Declan's office like some sort of guard dog. "He's expecting you. Go right in."

"He is?"

Was she so fucking predictable?

A smile quirked his lips as though he could read her mind. "Reception called up."

"Oh."





 

 
God, she was overreacting. She stood in front of the oak door and took some deep breaths, closed her eyes, and forced herself to calmness, something she'd learned to do when on active duty and she needed to focus her thoughts.

Then she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Declan stood by the window, his back to her. The first time around, she hadn't taken in her surroundings. Now she studied the office, maybe to give herself a bit more time. It was spacious, with a huge desk, where Declan had sat at the previous meeting, across one corner. Decorated in cream and black with a long black leather sofa against the wall. Overall the office gave the impression of serenity and good taste. A total opposite to his father's clubs, but hadn't that been what they were aiming for? Respectability.

She took a few more paces into the room, her footsteps muffled on the thick cream carpet. Declan had taken off his jacket; it was slung over the back of his chair and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. Through the thin silk of his shirt, she could make out the bandage wrapped around his upper arm.

He'd been shot.

Her breath hitched and a sharp pain jabbed at her chest. Someone had actually tried to kill him.

Before, it had seemed unreal. Now, it sank in, and she realized that no, she really didn't want anyone to kill him, however much she hated him.

At eighteen, he'd still had a boyish lankiness to his frame. That was gone. His shoulders had broadened, though his hips were still lean and his legs beneath the charcoal-gray pants were long. His black hair was cut short, and while she watched, he ran a hand through it. He'd always done that when he was thinking, and it would leave him all sexily tousled. Now, it was too short to tousle.

Even from behind, he seemed controlled, contained, all that energy she had loved so much leashed in tight.

Maybe she'd had a lucky escape.

Declan's path in life had been decided early on. His family had always expected him to take the business and make it respectable; that's what he'd been groomed for and he'd gone along with the plan without a hitch. Except for her. And that had been a minor mistake, easily remedied.

After what seemed like an age, he turned around. His hands shoved into his pockets, he scrutinized her from head to toe. A tremor ran through her, but she stiffened her spine and returned the favor. And her breath caught again. It wasn't fair; he was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

"You came back," Declan murmured.

"Your father offered me a lot of money."

He raised a brow. "You spoke to him?"

"Well, he would hardly be able to offer me money if I hadn't."

His lips twitched. "I'd forgotten that sarcastic mouth of yours." 

"Not the only thing you've forgotten, I'm guessing."

His gaze drifted down over her body, sending shivers across her skin. "You'd be surprised."

What the hell did that mean? "Actually, I turned him down."

"You did? And yet here you are."

Time to get nice. She took a deep breath, curved her lips into a smile. "I like to think we were friends once." Until you dumped me. "You're in danger and I want to help. Why not reconsider? Take the bodyguards-they'll be discreet. They won't cramp your style."

"And would you be one of those bodyguards?"

Not a chance in hell. "If you want me to be."

His eyes narrowed, and he studied her face for a long minute. "Are you trying to be nice?"

She gritted her teeth. "Yes."

He let out a short laugh. "I'd forgotten your habit of absolute honesty. But you suck at the nice thing."

"No, I don't." She shrugged. "I'm just a little out of practice."

He took a step closer, his gaze still wandering over her.

"You're staring," she said. And she wished he would stop. She was used to being stared at, and she'd learned to ignore it. But somehow she couldn't ignore Declan's cool scrutiny.

He took another step closer, so close she could breathe in his scent-warm man, and some expensive cologne, sharp and citrusy. She stared straight ahead, but that meant she was gazing at his chest and she could see the dark shadow of his nipples beneath the thin silk. Her mouth went dry, and she forced her eyes upward just as he reached out and ran a finger down the scar on her face. A shiver rippled through her at his light touch, settling low down in her belly.