CHASING TROUBLE

“Would you like me to pour you some coffee?” he offered as he raised the cafetiere invitingly, and in the process once again stood just a little too close to Caroline for comfort.

The feral grin he gave as she shot him a slightly nervous glance told her that he was totally aware of the effect his close proximity was having on her equilibrium. That he’d already noted the flush in her cheeks, the way she couldn’t seem to breathe properly, and the slight trembling of her hands.

How could she not be affected? Caroline accepted ruefully. Men like Nicholas Connelly-hard, tough, dangerous-were completely beyond her everyday acquaintance. The only males she usually met on a day-to-day basis were either clients or stuck up, rich men at the parties she sometimes attended with Frank Connelly.

She occasionally accepted an innocuous luncheon or dinner invitation from one of her male colleagues, but other than that Caroline preferred to keep her life uncomplicated by personal relationships. She had certainly never met anyone even remotely like Nicholas before!

But she certainly wasn’t so disconcerted by all this blatantly displayed testosterone that she was willing to forgo her morning cup of coffee because of it! “Thank you,” she accepted, with a dismissive glance in his direction.

Mistake!

As she had known she would, Caroline had dreamt about this man last night. Once she had finally managed to fall asleep at all, that was. Intense, disturbing dreams that had included fulfilling the fantasy she’d had last night of running her fingers through that over-long dark hair, before moving lower to caress the width of those muscled shoulders and down the hardness of his back. In her dream she had also caressed other places she would really rather not think about right now!

But the reality of the man was so much more disturbing than any dream. He simply oozed hard masculinity from every pore in his muscled body, from that hewn and ruggedly handsome face to the strength of his perfectly toned body. He even smelt male, his aftershave sharp and tangy, with a hint of spice that tantalized the senses almost as much as the man did himself.

He knew it too, and was perfectly comfortable with all that blatant masculinity, Caroline acknowledged slightly resentfully.

“Are you expecting to suddenly have to go into combat?” she taunted, with a scathing glance at the dark clothing and heavy black boots he seemed to favor wearing.

He shrugged. “I just threw a few things into a holdall. Besides, I find it’s always best to be prepared.” Nicholas eyed her mockingly as he resumed his seat opposite her at the intimately small table. “After all, one never knows when and where one might be attacked!”Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

Warm color entered those slightly hollow cheeks at the deliberateness of his taunt.

“Mrs Cooper mentioned you left the army two years ago?” She obviously chose to take his taunt at face value.

“Yes,” he confirmed evenly.

“What career do you have now?”

“I keep busy with this and that.”

“What sort of this and that?”

Nicholas narrowed his gaze darkly. “You are very nosy for an assistant who supposedly only came here to catalog my father’s library for him.”

“There’s no “supposedly” about it,” she assured primly. “I was merely attempting to make conversation.”

“Make it about something else,” he bit out curtly.

Nicholas didn’t discuss the work he did. With anyone. Least of all a woman he had only met eight hours ago. Although it was starting to seem much longer than that…After he left the army and became a personal bodyguard to a famous politician, his father had done everything in his power to discourage him. He wanted Nicholas with him… By his side. Ready to take over the family business, but Nicholas didn’t really know if that was what he wanted for himself. Hopefully he’d find out during this visit.

“If I’m nosy, then you’re completely lacking in manners!” Caroline frowned at his rudeness.

Nicholas gave an uninterested shrug. “What else did you expect from a man whose father’s only means of contacting him for years was through the phone,”

A nerve pulsed in her cheek. “I wasn’t meaning to be rude when I made that comment.”

“Weren’t you?” Nicholas asked knowingly.

Okay, yes, she had been, Caroline accepted guiltily. Which was a little unfair of her when she really knew nothing about their family situation. When this man’s father was just her boss.

“What about you, Caroline?” Nicholas arched a dark brow in query. “What does Caroline Anderson do when she isn’t being an assistant or cataloging someone’s library?”

“She reads. Most of the time, history books” she expanded when his eyebrow lifted, knowing that he was thinking about the book he’d seen with her the previous night. God, were they ever going to get past that, she thought.

“Wow,”

“It’s a subject I happen to love.” She bristled defensively at the obvious lack of enthusiasm in his voice. “Especially when I was still in school,”

“You’re comfortable with things that have already happened rather than those that haven’t?”

Caroline had never thought of it in that particular way before…”Is there something wrong with that?” she asked.

A shrug stretched the black material of his T-shirt tighter across the wide width of his shoulders. “Not at all. Except a life with no surprises must be…”

“Comfortable?” Caroline supplied tersely.

“Boring,” Nicholas finished with an unrepentant grin, his teeth very white and even against that lightly bronzed skin.

“That happens to be the way I prefer it.” She stood up abruptly. “I think I’ll take my coffee with me into the library and get started on some work.”

Dark brows rose teasingly. “Aren’t you supposed to meet up with a client today?” he asked, knowing his comment had somewhat pissed her off.

She nodded tersely. “I am, but that will be in the afternoon,”

Nicholas’s attention turned to the doorway as he saw Mrs Cooper standing there hesitantly.

“I wondered if I could get either of you something hot for breakfast?” the elderly housekeeper offered huskily, the strain of the last few days evident in the paleness of her cheeks and the slight redness of her eyes.

“Caroline?” Nicholas prompted crisply.

“Not for me, thanks.” She gave the older woman a regretful smile.

“Or me,” Nicholas said. “We will both be finished in here in a few minutes, if you want to clear away then,” he assured Mrs Cooper lightly, having only vague memories of the sixty-year-old widow who had moved to the house with a sixteen-year-old son twenty years ago.