Page 92 of Driving Him Wild

I’d replayed our conversation in her conference room countless times, each recount a little more

eye-opening. Each one shaming me a little.

Did you stop to think she may have been protecting you? That she didn’t want you to witness

every single sorry detail of her trying to hold it together?

A handful of words that had rocked me, more than she knew. She’d changed something fundamental

inside me during those three days at the cabin, then completely shifted the axis of my world in her conference room.

A saner man would flee from such a seismic shift. But what the hell kind of adventurer would I be

if I didn’t explore to see where it led?

A surge of travellers heading for their holidays ebbed and flowed out of the entrance, but there was no sign of Graciela. At this time of night only two flights were supposed to land. As the last of the passengers trickled out, my insides plummeted.

She wouldn’t leave me hanging like this. Would she?

My fingers gripped my thighs, then immediately unclenched to tap a wild beat, in direct

contradiction to the dull thudding within my chest. I was so intent on debating whether to call her mobile or not I didn’t see the figure walking up until a knuckle rapped sharply against the window.

I jumped, then waved the driver away as he made to alight, yanking on the door handle and

stepping out. She was dressed in the sort of classy chic I’d come to associate with her. Dark glasses despite the time of night, dark designer denims, black cashmere sweater and thick parka, and a stylish scarf with slashes of colour wrapped around her neck.

Thigh-high boots that were totally impractical for winter in Denmark adorned her feet but, of

course, she carried it off effortlessly, looked seriously sexy.

‘You’re here,’ I said uselessly.

Her smile was wary, her eyes apprehensive. Unlike the confident Dominant I knew. ‘I hate

mysteries. I had to come and see what that second line was all about.’

I reached for her suitcase, a little disconcerted by how small it was.

She either intended to stay for a short visit or she didn’t intend to wear many clothes while she was here. I fervently hoped it was the latter. I tossed the case into the boot and joined her in the back seat.

She unwrapped the scarf from around her neck and ran her hands through her hair, and I searched her features as the car joined traffic. I was willing to admit my approach hadn’t been the most risk-free.

I’d titivated and cajoled without knowing what the outcome would be.

‘So when do I get to see my surprise?’ she asked.

‘The day after tomorrow.’ I held my breath, waiting for her to tell me she only intended to stay one night.

She didn’t, but a curious look crossed her face. ‘Tomorrow is Christmas Day.’

‘I know. The idea was for you to spend Christmas with me.’

She shook her head. ‘We never agreed on where I spent Christmas. I’m supposed to be in the south

of France.’

Chains tightened around my chest. ‘The south of France?’

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