Babysitting a Billionaire 3 : Taking Control(11)

"Did you get this in the army?" he asked.

She frowned, too shocked by the effect of his touch to make sense of the words at first. He must be quite aware of where she'd got the scar. He'd visited her in the hospital after the crash. That was when he'd told her they were finished. "I got it in the accident before you left."

His hand dropped to his side, and he took a step back, his gaze fixed on her cheek, so for the first time in years she had the urge to raise her hand and cover the scar. Instead, she clenched her fists at her side.

"They told me you weren't seriously hurt," he muttered.

"I wasn't. This is nothing."

He shook his head. "I remember now. You had a bandage on your face, but they told me you were okay. They said just cuts and bruises. You should have told me."

"It is just a cut-from the broken windshield." Why was he making such a big deal about it?

"You didn't have it taken care of?"

"You mean plastic surgery?" When he nodded, she continued, "Didn't seem worth it. At first … " Shit, what was she supposed to say-that she'd been too broken inside to worry about what the outside looked like? Then later, once she was in the army, she just hadn't thought about it. Now, she actually liked the scar. Kim had told her it gave her character. Without it, she'd just be one more beautiful woman, and what was the point in that?

But from the shock on Declan's face, maybe that was all she had been to him. She gave a mirthless smile. "Your father told me all I'd had going was my looks and I'd fucked that up."

"He did. When?"

Maybe his father hadn't told him about their last meeting; maybe he hadn't thought it important enough to mention.

"I went to see you after I got out of hospital. Of course you had already fled the country." She gave what she hoped was a dismissive shrug.




 

 

"He didn't tell me."

She'd always suspected as much. "What would have been the point? You'd made your feelings-or lack of them-perfectly clear."

He turned away and strolled across the room. "You want a drink? I need a drink." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Not often you get shot one day and faced with a specter from the past the next."

"A specter?"

He stopped in front of a cabinet, opened it, and examined the contents. After pulling out two shot glasses, he poured a measure of scotch into both, then headed to the sofa, placing the glasses down on the coffee table. He picked up one and tossed the amber liquid down in one go. He strode back and picked up the bottle, brought it with him this time and topped off his glass. "Well?"

"Should you be drinking and taking medication? Not very sensible."

He studied her, head cocked to one side. "Since when did you get sensible?"

"When I joined the army. It was a painful process."

"I'll bet." Something flickered in his silver eyes. "I'm still trying to come to terms with the idea of you in uniform. I'm not sure whether it terrifies me or turns me on. Actually, I take that back … "

"It terrifies you?"

"You wish." He waved a hand at the sofa. "Sit down, and you can try and persuade me into those bodyguards while you have your drink."

What the hell? She'd already decided she wasn't going back to the office that afternoon. She'd put in so much overtime in the last couple of months, she deserved an afternoon off. And she still needed to do what she had come here for. Prove he was out of her system and move on. Oh, and be nice.

She'd never been one for self-delusion, but as she edged around him and perched in the corner of the sofa, she had the strangest feeling that she was doing just that. Reaching out, she wrapped her hand around the glass then brought it to her lips. They'd drunk a lot of scotch together; it had been her drink of choice at seventeen. Declan's kisses had often tasted of scotch, expensive malt he'd filched from his dad's personal supply.

She hadn't touched scotch since, and now as the warm liquid flooded her mouth it brought back memories of those kisses. Sweet and hot and … better forgotten.

He was still standing. Jess frowned up at him, and he came around and sank down onto the sofa beside her. So close, she could feel the heat of his big body.

The scotch was warming her inside now. Maybe this hadn't been a good idea, but she couldn't bring herself to get up and move.

Declan settled back in the seat and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He sipped his second drink in what should have been companionable silence, but in fact the air thrummed with tension and she was totally aware of his body so close to hers. 

She tried to tell herself that this was normal. "This" being the hot, heavy heat between her thighs. She had a past with this man. She'd had the most amazing multiple orgasms with him. It was obvious that being this close to him was going to make her think about sex. She was a normal woman-though a lot of people might laugh at that-and this was a normal woman's reaction.