LITMIR.BIZ

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about to say something else when he said, ‘No, it’s not.’ Ava blinked at his quiet but emphatic denial.

      ‘Any man who tells you that gunfire doesn’t scare him is lying to you.’

      Ava stared for a moment. If that had been Blake’s impression of scared she had to wonder what level of danger would be required to actually make him look it.

      Or maybe he just wasn’t capable of strong emotion? And wasn’t that a big flashing neon warning sign?

      ‘But...you were so...’ she cast around for an appropriate word ‘...calm.’

      He gave a short laugh. She’d have to have been deaf not to hear the bitter edge. ‘I’m sure my sergeant major, who chewed my arse off every day when I was a green recruit, would be more than pleased to hear that.’

      He was being flippant now but she wasn’t in the mood—she was deadly serious. ‘I thought I was going to die,’ she whispered.

      His eyes were hooded as he stared at her and she wished she could see them, to connect with him. ‘But you didn’t,’ he said.

      His reminder was surprisingly gentle—not facetious like his last remark. ‘Thanks to you,’ she murmured.

      Their gazes held for the longest time. It was quiet canal side and she realised they were standing close—close enough to feel as if they were the only two people in the world after what they’d been through together. To feel united. She waited for him to make some throwaway comment about the house saving her butt or the gunman being a lousy shot. He looked as if he was gearing up to say something.

      But he seemed to think better of it, dragging his attention back to the longboat. She watched him step into the bow of the boat, then make a production of unlocking the door before he finally looked at her.

      ‘You want that shower or not?’

      * * *

      The fridge was empty bar a six-pack of beer and Blake gratefully freed one of the bottles as the dull noise of shower spray floated towards him through the distant wall. He sat heavily on the nearby leather armchair, easing his leg out in front of him as he swivelled the chair from side to side. He was not going to think about Ava Kelly naked in his shower.

      He was going to drink his beer, mentally plot his course for tomorrow, then crawl into bed.

      Or the couch as the case might be.

      Not his big comfortable king-sized sleigh bed he’d crafted with his own two hands—helping him forget the sand and the heat and the pain and the memories—specially customised for the specs of the wide beam canal boat he’d restored. He could hardly make a guest—a female guest—sleep on the couch. Even if it was large and long and comfortable.

      Especially considering Ava was shelling out one million pounds for the dubious privilege.

      He could certainly hack it for one night. For one million quid he could hack just about anything.

      Dear God—he was prostituting himself. A leggy blonde with killer eyes, money to burn and someone wanting her dead had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse and he’d rolled over quicker than a puppy with a tummy scratch on offer.

      He took a swig of his beer as he dialled his brother’s number. ‘It’s after midnight.’ Charlie yawned as he picked up after what seemed for ever. ‘Someone better be dying.’

      ‘Only me,’ Blake snorted. Then he proceeded to fill his brother in on the events of the evening including the details of the company car Charlie was going to need to pick up from the backstreets near the hospital.

      Charlie seemed to come awake rapidly and found Blake’s predicament hilarious after ascertaining everyone was okay. ‘What is it about you that makes people want to shoot you? I swear to God, only you, brother dearest, could land yourself in such a situation.’

      ‘Oh, it gets worse,’ Blake informed his brother as he filled him in on the facts that had resulted in him cohabiting with one of the world’s most beautiful women.

      ‘Okay, let me get this straight. She’s giving you, giving Joanna, a million quid to sleep at yours for the night.’

      Blake shrugged. ‘Essentially.’ Charlie laughed and Blake frowned, suddenly angry with the world. ‘What’s so bloody funny?’

      ‘Sounds like a movie an old girlfriend dragged me to once a lo-o-ong time ago. That one with Robert Redford and Demi Moore.’

      Blake rolled his eyes. ‘She’s not asking for sexual favours, you depraved bastard. She’s scared. She just needs to feel safe for the night. To hide away for a bit.’

      ‘So you’re not going to end up in bed together?’

      The vehement denial was on Blake’s lips before he was even conscious of it. ‘I wouldn’t sleep with her if we were the only two people left on earth.’

      Blake could feel his brother’s eyebrow rise without having to see it. ‘Why not? I would and I’ve been happily married for a decade.’

      Blake knew his brother would no sooner sleep with Ava Kelly than he would. He was as besotted with Trudy now as he had been ten years ago. ‘Sure you would.’

      ‘Okay,’ his brother conceded. ‘Hypothetically. You gotta admit, she looks pretty fine in a bikini.’

      ‘She’s a snooty, heinous prima donna who caused us endless trouble with all her first-world crap,’ Blake said, lowering his voice. ‘I don’t care how good she looks in a bikini.’

      ‘Maybe you should.’ Suddenly Charlie’s voice was dead serious. ‘It’s okay to let yourself go every now and then, Blake. Being beautiful and rich and opinionated isn’t a crime. That’s our demographic, don’t forget.’

      Blake shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He’d seen so much poverty and desperation in his ten years serving his country. It felt as if he was selling out to admit his attraction to a woman who represented everything frivolous and shiny in a society that didn’t have a clue how the other half lived. But he was too tired to get into all of that now.

      ‘She’s here for one night and, in case you’ve forgotten, she’s a client.’

      His brother snorted. ‘Not any more, she’s not. Which makes it perfectly okay to...take one for the team, so to speak. How long has it been since you got laid?’

      Blake shook his head, not even willing to go there. Just because he chose not to spend every night with a willing woman didn’t mean he was about to die from massive sperm build-up as his brother predicted. He worked hard every day and came home every night to a place that he’d created that was far removed from the hell he’d known in foreign countries.

      That meant something these days. More than some cheap sexual thrill.

      Besides, Ava Kelly was so off-limits she might as well be sitting on the moon. If he wanted to get laid, he could get laid. He didn’t need to do it with a woman who’d bugged him almost from the first day of their acquaintance.

      No matter what vibe he suspected ran between them.

      ‘Is Trudy awake?’ Blake tisked. ‘You know, your raging feminist wife who I happen to like much more than you? She’d be disgusted by your attitude.’

      ‘She thinks you need to find a woman too. One who can tie you in knots and leave you panting for more.’

      Blake didn’t say anything for a long time. ‘She’s in trouble, Charlie,’ he said as he contemplated the neck of his beer. ‘She just needs to feel safe.’

      Charlie was silent for long moments too. ‘Then just as well she chose one of Her Majesty’s best.’

      ‘No,’ Blake said. ‘I’m just a builder, remember? And I’m on holiday. If she didn’t come with a million-dollar price-tag attached I’d have walked away.’

      Charlie laughed

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