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She hesitated and looked at him uneasily.
‘Pretty speech,’ he drawled, ‘but your unfortunate incident has landed you in my custody, and I give the orders now—not you.’
Lily’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Your custody?’ She nearly laughed at the thought.
He evidently didn’t like her response, because he leaned in even closer, his voice deadly soft. ‘What? Did you think I would just ignore the conditions of your release and let you waltz out of here by yourself? You don’t know me very well if you did.’
Lily edged back and felt the bar stool behind her thighs, a tremor of unease bumping down her spine. She hadn’t read the release form at all, and had a feeling she was about to regret that.
‘I didn’t read it,’ she admitted, sucking on the soft flesh of her upper lip—a nervous childhood gesture she’d never been able to master.
Tristan frowned down at her, and then must have realised she was serious because he had the gall to laugh. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘I’m glad you find it funny,’ she snapped, staring him down when his grim smile turned into a snarl.
‘Now, funny is probably the last thing I think about this situation—and here’s why. You just signed documents that place you under my protective custody until you’re either released—’ his tone implied that was about as likely as buying property on another planet ‘—or charged with possession of narcotics.’
Lily felt dizzy and leaned heavily on the bar stool at her back. ‘I don’t understand…’ She shook her head.
‘What? You thought the evidence might up and magically disappear? I’m good, Honey, but I’m not that good.’
‘No.’ She waved her hand in front of her and briefly closed her eyes. ‘The custody bit.’
‘It’s a form of house arrest.’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘Now you do. And now I’m ready to leave.’
‘No!’ Her hand hovered between them and her voice quavered. ‘Wait. Please. I…What does that mean, exactly?’
He looked at her as if she was a simpleton. ‘It means that we’re stuck with each other 24/7 for the foreseeable future, that’s what it means.’
Lily blinked. 24/7 with this gorgeous, angry man…? No way. She pressed her fingertips to her aching forehead and ordered herself to think. Surely there was another solution.
‘I can’t stay with you!’ She blurted out before her thoughts were properly in order.
His eyes sparkled into hers, as hard as polished gemstones. ‘Believe me, the thought couldn’t be more abhorrent to you than it is to me.’
‘But you should have told me!’
‘You should have read the paperwork,’ he dismissed.
He was right, and she hated that. Only it was because of him that she hadn’t read it in the first place.
‘You crowded me and told me to hurry.’
‘So now it’s my fault?’ he snapped.
‘I wasn’t blaming you.’ She swiped a hand across her brow. This was terrible. ‘But if you had warned me about what I was signing I wouldn’t have done so!’
He went still, his over-long tawny mane and square jaw giving the impression of a fully grown male lion that had just scented danger.
‘Warned you?’
Too late Lily realised he’d taken her comment as an insult.
‘And what exactly would you have done, hmm? Do tell.’
Lily pressed her lips together at his snide tone and tried not to notice how imposing he was, with his hands on his hips drawing his shoulders even wider. If she’d thought he hated her six years ago it was nothing compared to the contempt he clearly felt for her now.
And she wasn’t so much looking to put the past behind her any more as she was in burying it in a six-foot-deep hole! ‘I—I would have looked for an alternative,’ she stuttered. ‘Brainstormed other options.’
‘Brainstormed other options?’ He snorted and shook his head, as if the very notion was ludicrous. ‘We’re not in a movie rehearsal now, Honey!’
Lily’s heart thudded heavily in her chest. If he called her Honey one more time she might actually hit him. She took a deep, steadying breath and tried to remember that he felt he had a right to be angry, and that maybe, if their situations were reversed, she would feel the same way.
No, she wouldn’t. She’d be too worried for the other person to treat them so—so…indignantly.
‘Listen—’ she began, only to have her words cut off when he pushed off his bar stool and crowded her back against her own.
‘No. You listen,’ he bit out softly. ‘You don’t have a choice here. You’re no longer in charge. I am. And if you don’t like it I’ll give you another option. It’s called a prison cell. You want it—it’s back that way.’ He jerked his chin towards the entrance of the bar, his eyes never leaving hers.
Lily blanched. Lord, he was arrogant.
‘I didn’t do it,’ she enunciated, trying to keep her voice low.
‘Tell it to the judge, sweetheart, because I’m not interested in hearing your protestations of innocence.’
‘Don’t patronise me, Tristan. I’m not a child.’
‘Then stop acting like one.’
‘Damn you, I have rights.’
‘No, you had rights.’ His tone was soft, but merciless. ‘You gave up those rights the minute you waltzed through Heathrow carrying a bag full of narcotics. Your rights belong to me now, and when I say jump I expect you to ask how high.’
Lily froze. He had some nerve. ‘In your dreams,’ she scoffed, now just as angry as he was.
CHAPTER THREE
NO, TRISTAN thought disgustedly, when he dreamt of her she was not jumping up and down; she was usually naked, her lithe body spread out over his bed, and her soft mouth was begging him to take her. But this was no dream, and right now making love to her couldn’t be further from his mind.
Kissing that insolent curl from her luscious mouth—now, that was closer. But completely giving in to the insane desire that still uncomfortably rode his back—no. Not in this lifetime.
Not that he was at all surprised to find himself still attracted to her. Hell, she looked even better now than she had six years ago—if that was actually possible.
Even the bartender was having trouble keeping his distance—and not just because he’d probably recognised her face. Tristan doubted he’d be ogling any other actress with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, and there were many far more worthy of a second glance than this sexy little troublemaker.
No, the bartender was staring because Lily Wild looked like every man’s secret fantasy come to life—even with those dark smudges beneath those wide purple eyes. But she damned well wasn’t his. Not this time.
He should have just said no to Jordana, he realised distractedly. Should have made up a story about how it couldn’t be done.
But he had too much integrity to lie, and in the end a close friend who specialised in criminal law had pulled a rabbit from a hat and here they were. But only by the grace of some clapped-out piece of nineteenth-century legislation that he would recommend be amended at the next parliamentary sitting.
‘Did you hear me, Tristan?’ she prompted, her glorious eyes flashing with unconcealed irritation. ‘I won’t let you bully me like you did once before.’
Tristan cast her the withering glance that he usually reserved for the seediest of his courtroom opponents.
Oh, he’d heard her all right, but she had no choice in the matter, and the sooner she got that through her thick, beautiful skull the better.
‘Don’t push me, Lily,’ he grated warningly, and saw her teeth clench.
Her hands were fisted by her sides and he knew she probably wanted to thump him. Despite himself he admired her temerity. Most women in her position—hell, most men—would be grovelling or backing away, or both. Instead this little spitfire was arguing the toss, as if she might actually choose jail over him.
‘Then don’t push me!’ she returned hotly.
He looked at her and tried to remind himself that he was a first-rate lawyer who never let emotion govern his actions. ‘You signed the contract. Deal with it,’ he said curtly.
She slapped her hands on her hips, the movement dragging her oversized cardigan open and bringing his attention back to her full, unbound breasts. ‘I told you—I didn’t know what I was signing,’ she declared, as if that might actually make a difference.
Yeah, yeah—just as she didn’t know how the drugs ended up in her bag. He had yet to come across a criminal who actually admitted any form of guilt, and her vehement denial was boringly predictable.
He noticed that the two businessmen who earlier had been deep in conversation were now stealing surreptitious glances at her. Not that he couldn’t appreciate what they were looking at: tousled pearl-blond hair, soft, kissable lips, a mouthwatering silhouette, and legs that went all the way into next week.
They’d looked even longer coming down his parents’ staircase at Jo’s eighteenth party, in a tiny dress and designer heels. And just like that he was back at Hillesden Abbey, the family estate, at the precise moment she had approached him.
‘Hey, wanna dance?’ she’d invited, standing before him in a silver mini-dress that clung in all the right places, hip cocked, bee-stung pout covered in war paint.
He’d declined, of course. Just looking at her had stirred up a dark lust inside him that, at seventeen, she had been way too young to handle.
‘But you danced with Jordana,’ she’d complained, fluttering ridiculously long eyelashes like a woman on the make. ‘And the girl with the blue dress.’
‘That’s right.’ His friend Gabriel had elbowed him. ‘You did.’
‘So? What about it?’ Lily had shifted her weight to her other hip, her dress riding up just that tiny bit more, head tilted in artful provocation.
He’d been about to refuse again, but Gabriel had interrupted and said he’d dance with her if Tristan wouldn’t, and for some reason that had got his back up.
He’d thrown his friend a baleful glare before focusing on Lily. ‘Let’s go.’
She’d smiled her now famous million dollar smile at Gabriel and Tristan had gritted his teeth and followed her onto the dance floor.
As if on cue the music had turned dreamy and he’d almost changed his mind. Then she’d turned that million dollar number his way, stepped into his arms, and he’d no longer had a mind to change.
‘It’s a great party, isn’t it?’ she’d murmured.
‘Yes,’ he’d agreed.
‘This is nice,’ she’d prompted.
‘Yes,’ he’d agreed.
‘Are you having a good time?’
Not any more; not with his self-control unravelling with each breathy little question.
He remembered he’d been so focused on not pulling her in close that he failed to notice when she had moved in on him. Then he’d felt the slide of her bare thigh between his jean-clad legs and the thrust of her pert breasts against the wall of his chest and self-control had become a foreign concept.
His hand had tightened on her hip to push her back, but she’d gripped his shoulder and looked at him with such unguarded innocence his heart had skipped a beat, and almost of its own accord his hand had slid around to the sweet indentation at the small of her back.
Her breath had hitched and when she’d stumbled he’d caught her against him. Her body had instantly moulded to his as if she was unable to hold herself upright. And he’d been unable to hide his physical reaction from her. His body had been gripped in a fever of desire: heart pounding, body aching and warning bells clanging so loudly in his head it was a wonder he’d been able to think at all.
He’d stupidly danced her into a secluded corner, with every intention of reprimanding her and telling her he didn’t do girls barely out of nappies, but she’d quivered in the circle of his arms, lips delicately parted, and he’d fused his mouth with hers before he’d even known what he was about.
The bolt of pure heat that had hit his groin at the contact had almost unmanned him.
Before he’d known it he’d had one hand tangled in her golden mane, the other curved over her bottom and his tongue deep in her mouth, his lips demanding a response she had been more than happy to give.
He’d completely lost all sense of where he was, and hours could have flown by before a hand had circumspectly tapped him on the shoulder.
Thomas, the family butler, had stood behind him, seemingly mesmerised by the imported mirror balls suspended above the dance floor.
Apparently his father required his presence most urgently.
For a second Lily’s dazed disappointment had only been outweighed by his own. Then he’d realised what he’d nearly done and been appalled at himself. She was his little sister’s friend, and the erotic images playing through his mind were highly inappropriate.
He remembered he’d abruptly released her and curtly told her not to bother him again, that he wasn’t interested in babies. And then she’d punished him by attaching herself to some Armani suit for the rest of the night like ivy on a brick wall.
One of the businessmen hooted a laugh, and the sound broke Tristan’s unwanted reverie.
He closed his eyes briefly to recompose himself, and then made the mistake of glancing into the mirror behind the bar—where his gaze collided with Lily’s.
For a split second something hot and primal arced between them, and then the pink tip of her tongue snuck out to douse her full lower lip and just like that he was hard again.
Damn. Had she done that on purpose? Had she known what he’d been thinking about?
He blinked slowly and turned his gaze as hard as his groin. He wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t going to let her use that come-hither look she’d probably learned in the cradle to manipulate him. The sooner she figured that out, the better for the both of them.
‘I don’t care what you did or didn’t know. You signed the forms and now we’re leaving.’
‘Wait.’ She put her hand out to touch him and then snatched it back just as quickly.
His jaw clenched. ‘What now?’
‘We need to sort this out.’
He picked his jacket up off the stool and shrugged into it. ‘It’s sorted. I’m in charge. You’re not. So let’s go.’
