Free Everything You Need: Everything For You Trilogy Book 1 by Orla Bailey Page A

of his lust.
    I jump at the intimate touch. My stomach flips but he grips me firmly and I don’t want to look like some nervous schoolgirl snatching my hand back in alarm, no matter that’s exactly how I’m feeling. It’s far too late to cover the fact I’m blushing like a cloistered nun. A hot blaze burns through my skin.
    Everything Jack Keogh does, takes me by surprise. A night spent alone with him might not be such a good idea but it’s to save my business. If he wants to make it pleasure too, who am I to disagree?
    For one night only.
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
    Jack is behaving like a complete bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing and is enjoying every single moment of it, I swear to God.
    “I’ll send a car for you at eight.”
    When he releases my hand but continues to stare down at it, intrigued, I’m made aware I’m rubbing my thumb repeatedly over the place he pressed his lips. I stop. His lips curve upwards as he looks up at me once more. He’d better not think I liked what he did. Any of it. My appearance of cool self-assurance is rattled.
    “No need. I’ll drive myself.” I must keep some control. If I decide later I can’t go through with it I’d prefer to have my own means of transport home.
    His eyes narrow. “That would be a deal breaker. And make it seven thirty.”
    He’s adding half an hour as a penalty? I stare at him but look away again. I shrug. “If it’s that important… You have the address.”
    “Yes. How’s the new door working out?”
    I refuse to be flustered. “Serviceable. Like the one before it. Haven’t you tried your keys yet?”
    “For emergencies only.” He’s smiling but I’m not.
    “Oh, like the middle of the night?”
    He scowls. “If necessary.”
    I don’t doubt it. I stand. His eyes travel the length of my body assessing, appraising until I feel partially asphyxiated in my hideous grey outfit.
    He makes me feel old-fashioned. Ashamed of myself. I hate that he can do that with one look, just because he wears five thousand pound made-to-measure Brioni or whatever, on his back. I haven’t had time to update my wardrobe since Harry died and I got thrust headlong into running the business. It’s not the money. I simply have other priorities.
    Like drinking.
    “Seven thirty it is then.” I walk to the locked door, cringing as I realise I’ve conceded to his first two demands already. His car. His time. Some negotiator I am.
    “And I insist on first names,” he states.
    “In private,” I counter.
    “Agreed. For now. Oh, and it’s formal wear,” he adds, incapable of backing down with his incessant demands.
    I ice over. When do I have time to buy a formal dinner gown as well he knows? He’s had his fingers on everything I own, knickers included. I refuse to even think about one particular item he encountered which I’ve removed the batteries from. I’d always think about him.
    I always did anyway.
    “I’ll send a dress at five.” His voice dares me to challenge his decision and I realise he’s raising the stakes already.
    I pause, allowing my breath to settle before I speak, not even bothering to turn around. I’m not sure I want to see the expression on his face at this moment. “I’m perfectly capable of dressing for a business dinner, Mr Keogh.” I make it abundantly clear that’s the only thing I’m interested in.
    “Did we not agree first names, Tabitha?”
    “In private,” I remind him.
    “I don’t see anyone else here. I have no doubt you’re perfectly capable of dressing for dinner. Except you don’t know my tastes.”
    I nearly choke on my own saliva. “Do I need to?” Only half-turned now, I address him over my shoulder.
    He repeats the words slowly. “It’s a deal breaker.” If this phrase is designed to bug me, it couldn’t have been better chosen. It bugs me.
    Only a thin veil conceals my annoyance at his presumption but if he thinks I’m as open-heartedly guileless now as I was once, he’s mistaken. I