Chapter 5: The Second Time

Josie's Point of View

"What do you think?" Colt looked straight at me, his jaw tucking in slightly.

His reaction was the answer.

I gripped my teacup. My mind was a mess. No, a complete disaster.

I had the sudden urge to reach across and strangle him.

"How could you... how could you actually do that with a woman you didn't even know? Couldn't you tell I was drunk? I wasn't in my right mind." I fought to hold back the emotions threatening to spill over. Suspecting it was one thing. Having it confirmed was another.

Colt's expression was resigned. "I pushed you off. I tried to talk you out of it. But you wouldn't let go of me. I'm a man. Staying unmoved in that situation would be the abnormal thing."

My cheeks flushed. "Men are all wolves in gentlemen's clothing!"

"Only because women push us to it," Colt said, leaning back with a light, easy smile.

"..." I took a deep breath and glared at him, red-faced, holding it in for ages. In the end, I lost. The fault was mine this time. If the fish swims into the cat's mouth, how can the cat be blamed? When you came right down to it, the fish had done it to herself.

After the pain came the clarity. I could swallow my pride and keep going.

"I'll go to a pharmacy after this," I said quietly, my head drooping. Whether I accepted it or not, it was a fact.

"Within seventy-two hours is fine," Colt said evenly, his glass-green eyes unfathomably deep.

"Ha. You know a lot about it." I let out a short laugh. He was probably a seasoned expert at this sort of thing. The thought made a flicker of contempt show on my face before I could stop it.

Any woman who lost her virginity by accident would resent the man, even if only deep down.

Colt saw straight through my unflattering fantasies, and his thin lips pressed together. "Speculating about someone's private life is very rude."

My face went red again.

"Mr. Hawthorne, I think I'll skip dinner after all. I'll be going now." I forced a smile, kept my composure, picked up my bag, and rose from the sofa.

This man was too sly, too terrifying. If I stayed with him any longer, I would go insane.

Colt didn't try to stop me. "Since you insist, I won't keep you. Drive safely."

"Thank you." I bowed with exaggerated politeness and walked toward the door in my best ladylike manner.

As I passed the fireplace, the cat, who had been lounging lazily at Colt's feet, let out a furious meow and launched herself at me.

“Ah!” I gasped. My heel twisted on the blanket's edge, the floor tilted, and I pitched forward with nothing to grab.

Strong hands caught me, but too late to stop the fall. I landed hard against a solid chest, and my lips grazed something warm and soft.

I froze.

When I lifted my head, a perfect face was inches from mine. His green eyes, dark in the firelight, held mine, and for one stretched-out second neither of us moved. I felt his heartbeat under my palm, steady and slow, while mine pounded against my ribs. The faint scent of smoke and cedar wrapped around me. I couldn't remember how to breathe.

His hand was still at my waist. He didn't let go.

"How long," Colt asked, low and unhurried, "do you plan to stay on top of me?"

Heat flooded my face. I scrambled up so fast I nearly toppled again, and his hand slid away from my waist a beat later than it needed to. "Sorry, I didn't mean to, I was..." I looked around wildly for the culprit.

"No need to explain." His voice was calm, but something glinted in his eyes, a hint of amusement he wasn't bothering to hide. "You stepped on Princess's favorite blanket. She was defending her territory."

I looked down at the cashmere crumpled by the hearth, then at the smug white cat now curled on his lap, watching me with half-lidded satisfaction. I forced a laugh. "She certainly has personality."

Damn fat cat.

Colt didn't answer right away. His gaze had dropped, slowly, to my chest, and I felt it like a touch. The silence stretched, warm and charged, broken only by the crackle of the fire.

"Your button has popped open," he said at last, softer than before. He lifted his eyes back to my face, unhurried, as if he hadn't minded the view at all.

I clapped a hand over my blouse, my whole body burning, and I could have sworn the corner of his mouth curved.

I looked down. Several buttons had come undone, and my bra was faintly visible.

My face went blood red.

I forced a stiff smile and slowly turned my back to him, pretending to be calm.

Oh God, this was mortifying! Why did I keep making a fool of myself in front of this man? Three times now!

I fixed my buttons, steeled myself, and turned around. "A small accident. I hope you won't think anything of it. So... goodbye!"

"Mm. Take care." His smile was easy and warm.

My cheeks ached from embarrassment. I walked out so fast my heels barely touched the floor.

I was moving so quickly that in the entrance hall I nearly collided with someone coming in. Thankfully, he stepped aside in time. I didn't even look at his face. I mumbled an apology, hurried past, shot out the front door, and dove into the Callahans' car.

"Drive," I said, as calmly as I could, my heart ready to leap out of my throat. You'd have thought I had just escaped from Alcatraz instead of the Hawthorne estate.

The car curved around the drive and headed straight for the gates.

****

Colt's Point of View

I touched my lips, right where she had landed on me. They still felt warm.

The corner of my mouth curved before I could stop it. Three buttons, a cat attack, and a woman who bolted like I might bite. In all my twenty-nine years, nobody had ever run from me that fast.

Princess jumped back onto my lap and gave me a smug look.

"Traitor," I said. "You did that on purpose."

She purred.

Footsteps sounded in the foyer. My uncle, Gideon Hawthorne, the Ninth Master of the family, came in from the door, watching the gates through the glass behind him.

"Colt, who was that woman who just ran out, all flushed?"

"Scarlett's new sister-in-law. She came to deliver the homecoming gifts," I answered offhandedly.

Gideon was only six years older than I was, the youngest son of my grandfather and the only man in the family I considered a true rival. At thirty-five, he was at his most polished and magnetic. He had inherited my grandmother's good looks, refined and gentle as jade, with an air that put people at ease. People who met him always left feeling he was the kindest man alive.

Those people had never played chess with him.

To the outside world, we were an uncle and nephew who got along beautifully. In truth, we were both calculating men who never showed our edge lightly. If the family were an ancient imperial court, I was the crown prince and he was the prince regent, and neither of us had ever forgotten it.

"You didn't bully her, did you?" He set his briefcase aside, took off his camel coat, and sat down calmly.

"Uncle, you have it backwards." I lifted my teacup, smiling lazily. "She bullied me. I'm the victim here."

"You look like you enjoyed being bullied."

"Do I?" I took a slow sip of black tea.

His eyes were like an ancient, quiet spring. Even at the deepest point, they stayed still as water. With a trace of a smile, he nodded. "You do."

I didn't deny it.