The Millionaire's Seductive Revenge. Maxine Sullivan
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Phillip had bought for her.
He opened his door, letting in the late-night sounds of a tropical summer. “I’ll walk you inside.”
She’d known he would. Her front door was actually around the back of the house, so it wouldn’t be possible to dismiss him easily. The minute he saw her walking down the driveway alongside the house he’d be out of the car and following her anyway.
“It’s around the back.” She moved to get out of the car, but her long dress proved difficult, and before she knew it he stood beside her, offering her his hand. For a moment she hesitated. Already her pulse was skittering all over the place. What would his touch do to her?
Having no option but to appear unruffled, she held her breath and put her hand on his. Her skin immediately tingled from the contact, but surprisingly his fingers didn’t close around hers. His hand remained open, palm up, allowing her to grip him as she chose.
Is this how he lets a woman make love to him? At her own pace?
That thought spread the tingle through her body as her fingers closed around his hand and she pressed her palm against his, using his strength to bring her to her feet.
He stepped back before their bodies could touch further, making her grateful for small mercies.
“It’s this way,” she said huskily and hurried forward, the path illuminated by small garden lights mingling through the palm trees, the clicking of her high heels in competition with a chorus of green tree frogs.
But when she came up to the door, it was standing open. She began to frown, then gave a soft gasp as realization hit. Someone had broken in.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered in disbelief.
“Stay there.” Brant strode the few feet to the door, swearing softly when he tread on some broken glass. He reached inside for the nearest switch, flooding the kitchen with light.
Kia came up behind him and they both stood there looking around. At first it appeared as if nothing had happened but the glass on the floor showed that someone had smashed one of the panels on the door.
“Careful,” Brant warned, stepping over the mess, then helping her while she lifted the skirt of her long dress with one hand and gingerly stepped over the glass.
Kia’s heart was almost jumping out of her chest. “Do you think he’s still here?” she whispered.
Brant peered toward the darkened hallway, his expression hard. “If he is…” He pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. “He’s going to regret it.”
Kia shivered as he dialed the police and spoke quietly for a moment. She almost felt sorry for the robber if he was still here. He’d be in for a shock if Brant got hold of him.
He swore as he ended the call. “They’ve had a busy night. They could be a while.”
Kia’s stomach churned with anxiety. She’d hate to think what would happen if she were here alone. For the first time, she was glad of Brant’s presence. “What now?”
He reached over to grab a knife from the block on the sink. “I guess I’m going to play the bloody hero,” he muttered, stepping toward the hallway, but he stopped when he saw her face. “What’s the matter?”
“You’re not going to use that, are you?”
He grimaced. “It’s only for protection. Come on. Stick with me.”
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