Page 18 of Stripped

"I don't think you need any more to drink," he said behind her.

"Let's get something straight." She pushed past him, heading into the living room. "I think we can both agree that we're working together. Well, if we are, then workmates don't tell each other what to do." She held up the bottle. The McCallum, twenty-five years cask. It was very good and very expensive. "Got it?"

His mouth quirked up at the corner and he arched his brow. "If that's the case, then let me help you pour. Workmate." He pulled the cork off the top, smelling the contents before pouring them each a generous dram. Pim watched his eyes close in bliss as he savored the first sip. "At least we can agree on something."

She picked up her own glass and drained it, the smoky, chocolate orange hints biting at her throat.

"That's not how you drink scotch of that quality," he said disapprovingly.

She ignored him, pouring herself another glass. "You asked about my father. What do you want to know?"

"How old were you when he died?"

"Fourteen."

Wraith shook his head. "You said he was mugged."

"He was bludgeoned to death with a lead pipe that fractured his skull."

"Here in Glasgow?" he questioned.

She bit her bottom lip, focusing on the pain. The alcohol was taking effect and starting to dull her senses. She just hoped it would keep her emotions at bay. "No, Edinburgh. Well, actually, Leith. He was on a business trip, it was at night, and he was walking home from the docks."

He nodded, listening.

"I was sent home from school immediately. No one would tell me anything. Everyone spoke in whispers and if I came into the room, they stopped talking altogether. I only know so much because when the police came to speak to my mom, I listened in at the door, and then I found a file in my grandfather's house."

"A police report?" he questioned.

She nodded. "Along with his death certificate and photographs. Seeing the pictures, made it real. I looked up online how long he most likely suffered. I don't think it was long. He probably lost consciousness with the blow to the head, and after that, it was just a matter of bleeding out. I think that was the hardest part, the fact that no one would be truthful with me. I mean, I wasn't a child."

Wraith blanched. He didn't try to hide the look of horror on his face, and she hoped she had shocked him. "And they thought it was random, someone who robbed him, with that much violence."

"There was no other explanation."

"Did they ever catch who did it?"

"No." He had finished his whiskey and she poured him another glass. "I was sent back to school the next week, like nothing had happened. Four months later, my mother was remarried and moved to Canada. I've seen her five times since then."

"God, I'm sorry. It's hard to lose a parent." Normally, she hated that response but there was an empathy to his voice that led her to believe he might understand.

"Don't be. I'm lucky I had my grandfather." She put the stopper back on the whiskey. It had accomplished its goal, she was sufficiently numb. "I need to go to bed if I'm going to make it through tomorrow." She got up and went to the linen closet in the hallway, pulling out a sheet and blanket. When she returned, she froze. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and her whole body flushed with heat. Wraith had pulled a gun out of his duffle bag and was checking it. He could kill her right now if he wanted. He was nothing more than a stranger.

"It's not loaded," he said, without looking at her, and set it down on the table. "Do you have a security system."

"Yes." She swallowed hard, her throat dry, and showed him the panel on the wall, the situation now sobering.

He bent over, looking at the box. "What's the code?"

He was so close, she could smell his aftershave, warm and musky. As she leaned in, her hand brushed his while she entered in the number. She drew it back quickly, suddenly very aware that a handsome man stood inches from her as her initial fear and the rush of adrenaline that accompanied it turned into something more carnal.

She cleared her throat. "I'll show you where the bathroom is if you want to shower," she said. He followed her down the hall. "There are extra towels in the cabinet."

She looked up, and holding his gaze, she could read the same desire in his eyes that she knew was hiding in hers. This man was dangerous, the thought of having him, thrilling. She reached up and pulled his head down, kissing him.

He had her pushed up against the wall with her wrists pinned above her head in one of his large hands before she knew what was happening. She couldn't move, bound by his physical strength and at his mercy. He deepened the kiss, running his tongue over her full lips until she had no choice but to open for him, allowing him access. A moan escaped her as the intensity increased, the taste of spiced fruit on his breath an aphrodisiac, heightening the risk. He softened the kiss, the initial frenzied torment, now drawn out as he gently bit her lower lip. She was helpless and the rush she felt from it left her body throbbing.

"Little girls shouldn't play with fire," he said a bit harshly.

It was over as quickly as it started, and she was left standing there, mouth agape as he walked down the hall.