“I thought that you already were my enemy. Didn’t realize I had a choice in the matter.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Okay, now that scared her. Her chin started to lift.
“But one way or another, you will be answering my questions, and if you lie to me…that will be a mistake I punish you for.”
Then he freed her wrist. Only she felt like he was still touching her. Her skin was hot and sensitive.
“You’ve got five minutes to dress.”
“And you sure like giving orders.”
He flashed her a wide grin. Wow. The man had a really nice, sexy smile.
“Time’s ticking…”
He shut the door.
Her gaze darted around the room. There had to be a way out of there. A way to escape Drake…
Because that man wouldn’t like her secrets. She knew because Jasmine hated them, too.
***
Drake was waiting in the garage. He stood in the back, keeping his body hidden as Jasmine snuck inside. He almost smiled. Did she even realize how predictable she was? She’d ducked out the back of the house, circumventing his security—a nice touch—but he knew the woman would need a ride for her escape off his property.
His garage had, of course, been her most likely destination. So he hadn’t bothered waiting inside the house for her.
He’d just made himself comfortable out there.
Her shoulders were hunched as she made her way to the line of cars. Which one would she pick? The Corvette? The Lincoln?
His lips firmed. Oh, hell, no, the woman was not planning to take his Porsche.
She was.
She slipped inside the car, then disappeared beneath the dash. He stalked toward her as anger pumped in his blood. “If you mess up those wires, I’ll—”
Her head shot up, and she screamed.
He took that opportunity to haul her out of his Porsche. That car was his favorite, his favorite in Vegas, anyway.
“I didn’t plan on us talking out here,” he murmured as he held her. “Princess, you missed the den by about fifty feet.”
She jerked against his hold. He didn’t let her go.
She still smelled like vanilla.
He still wanted a taste.
“I didn’t miss your dang den. It took me five minutes to get out of that house.” She sounded disgruntled enough that he wanted to smile. Again.
Then he remembered that she’d been intent on wrecking his baby. “You don’t touch the wires, got it? You don’t damage the Porsche.”
Jasmine rolled her eyes at him. “I’ve been hot wiring rides since I was fifteen. Your precious little baby wasn’t in any danger from me.” Her eyes narrowed and she appeared insulted. “I’m a professional.”
“Are you now?” Ah, so there was secret number one. “A…professional.”
Her cheeks flushed a dark red but her eyes—they seemed to darken even more with…pain? “I’m not a whore.” She pulled away from him and started heading back toward the house.
He stared after her a moment, aware that he felt…shame. “I didn’t think you were a whore. I’m…sorry.” His words hadn’t come out right. He’d meant to taunt her, not accuse her of—shit.
She glanced back at him, frowning. The light hit her hair. Rolled over her skin. Made the woman seem to glow. “Did you almost choke as you just said those words? Because it sounded like that apology got stuck in your throat.”
It had, a little bit.
She sighed. “You like trouble, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t.”
Jasmine gave a slow shake of her head. “Then you need to just take me out of this place. Let me get away from you, and then we can both never look back.”
He took his time closing the distance between them. Mostly because he was enjoying the view of her in the sunlight. “You made a mistake, you know.”
“Seems like I’ve made a few of those,” she groused.
Dammit, she kept making him want to smile. What in the hell was up with that? “You interest me.”
Surprise rippled across her face. “You make me sound like some kind of weird science project. You know, when it comes to talking with ladies, you rather suck at it. How, how do you have so many chicks throwing themselves at you?”
That should be obvious. “I’m rich.”
“And sexy.” She glared at him. Like he was the one who’d committed a crime. “Bad boy appeal.”
Uh, okay.
She pointed at him. “You need to keep your hands off me.”
He wanted his hands all over her. “Why is that?”
“Because I don’t want to get involved with you. It would be a mistake, for us both.”
He took her hand. Yes, he was touching her. He liked doing it, and she didn’t pull away. Because she liked his touch?
They didn’t speak again until they were near his house. Drake nodded to a guard who was watching them. “Did he even see you slip out?” Drake asked her, curious because the man had his narrowed gaze on Jasmine.
“No, I think he was taking a potty break.”
Laughter broke from Drake.
“I had to pick my moment,” she confessed.
He tugged her into the house. Shut the door. Instead of heading to the den, he took Jasmine into his study.
Once they were there, Jasmine glanced down at her hand. “You can let go now. You’ve got me.”
Slowly, he dropped his hold on her. “Do you…hurt?”
He should’ve asked her that before.
Again, surprise flashed across her face. What? Had no one ever asked the woman how she felt?
“Just a little ache,” Jasmine said as she walked around the study, poking and gazing at different things. “Nothing to worry about. I’ve had plenty worse.”
Drake didn’t like hearing that news. “How many times have you been stitched up?” He eased into the chair behind his desk. His hands flattened on the wooden surface.
“Maybe three times. Everyone has accidents.”
Bullshit. “That was no accident last night.”
She put down the hourglass that she’d been examining “You’re right. That was my mistake. I should’ve moved faster.” Her breath expelled on a sigh. “So there are accidents and there are…non-accidents.”
Locking his jaw, he motioned to the leather chair in front of his desk.