Rich (Benson Security #5) - Janet Elizabeth Henderson Page 0,5
her stubborn streak. It’d helped her resist princes and Hollywood stars. She could definitely resist the advances of one overly confident ex-spy.
All amusement disappeared from his face. “We really do need you on this, Rachel. If there was another way, we’d have found it by now. Without you, there’s no way we’ll have the access we need.”
And, unfortunately, he was right. They all were—even Callum. But she didn’t have to like it. “Fine,” she said with a good measure of bad grace. “I’ll play my part, but that’s all I’m doing. Don’t expect anything else.” She brushed past him to open the door. “And tell the idiots who bet against me to get their money ready. I don’t lose.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t lose, Rachel. Even if you did give in, you’d still come out a winner. I’d make sure of it.” His voice was a purr of promise that made her thighs clench.
“You know what they say about a man and his ego,” she said as she walked away. “The bigger the ego, the more he feels he has to prove.”
His deep, echoing laugh followed her as she strode past reception and out into the London sun. Hailing a cab, she took a steadying breath and straightened her shoulders. There was no place for emotion in this. The decision was made. She was going back to TayFor.
And to the past she’d fought to leave behind.
Chapter Two
Rachel hadn’t said more than ten words during the hour-long drive from central London to the heart of Surrey. You didn’t have to be a genius to know what was bothering her. They were on their way to dinner with her family, where he’d pose as her fiancé. To say Rachel wasn’t thrilled would be an understatement.
“You realize you’ve got a real-life spy in your James Bond car,” Harvard said into a silence that was so thick it made it hard to breathe.
If looks could kill, the glance she shot in his direction would have incinerated him. “You are no James Bond.”
Rachel’s hands tightened on the steering wheel of her Aston Martin, making the emerald cut diamond in her engagement ring catch the light and gleam. He’d spent days hunting down the perfect ring for her and had finally settled on a solitaire diamond in a platinum setting. Icy and elegant, just like Rachel, it was worth every cent he’d spent. Although well aware this was purely an undercover op, he hadn’t been able to resist the urge to see his ring on her finger. Of course, being Rachel, when he’d given it to her, she’d slipped it on without a word. But that alone had told him she liked it. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have worn it.
“I know, I’m no James Bond.” He relaxed back into the gray leather of the passenger seat and smiled at her. “He makes stupid decisions that would get him killed in real life. Plus, he’s a chauvinist asshole.”
She did that dramatic eye-roll thing that made his dick stand to attention. Damn, she was sexy as hell. All class and ice and keen intelligence. From her sleek mahogany hair falling against pale porcelain skin to her professionally manicured blood-red fingernails, she was perfection. Ever since he’d set eyes on her, he’d wanted to touch. But Rachel was resisting. He just wasn’t sure why—yet.
He’d seen the way she watched him when she thought he wasn’t looking. The woman practically drooled. And it wasn’t like she was a nun either. She’d dated in the time he’d been at Benson Security. One date per man. Which was the only reason Harvard had let them live—their lack of repeat access to Rachel.
“Why don’t you keep the flowers I send you?” The question popped out, even though an idiot could guess the answer.
“Maybe because I don’t want them.” She arched a perfectly groomed brow at him. “Or you.”
Oh, it was on the tip of his tongue to call her on her lies. On more than one occasion, he’d caught her touching the petals of the flowers he had delivered to her office every Monday. There had been a wistful softening in her face before she’d lifted the vase they’d come in and dumped it in the trash.
He hadn’t imagined it either. Elle Roberts, their resident computer genius, had alerted him to her behavior when she’d asked why Rachel didn’t keep the flowers she so obviously wanted. Like everything else about the woman who fascinated him, the answer was a mystery.