Read Online Her Only Desire by Delilah Devlin - Free Book Online Page B

a seat across from her, a hint of a smile playing at one corner of his mouth. The two men who had joined them at the helicopter’s stairs slid in on either side of her.
    Headphones appeared in front of her, but unlike the ones Boone and his men donned, hers didn’t have a wire connecting them to anything. Still, she was grateful for the protection they provided her ears, even if she was cut off from the nearby conversations.
    When the helicopter lifted, she held her harness, her gaze going to the windows and her stomach dropping to her toes as they rose quickly into the air.
    A tap landed on her knee, and she glanced up to find Boone’s steady gaze on her.
    You okay?
he mouthed.
    Fine time to ask whether her stomach would stand the journey. But apparently, it could. She nodded.
    His eyes blinked slowly, and he smiled. He pointed at his watch.
Four hours.
    So long? Having never traveled any farther than Houston, she hadn’t really thought about the distance. Now she had four hours with only her own thoughts to keep her occupied.
    Four hours to think about how he’d bulldozed his way into her apartment and into this trip. Four hours to contemplate their destination and the fact she’d be living with him in close quarters. And thank God she hadn’t accepted the coffee!
    Both Boone and Serge spoke into microphones beside their mouths.
    She didn’t have to read lips to know they were talking about her. Their gazes touched her…everywhere. Rather than drive herself crazy trying to figure out what they said, Tilly frowned and stared out the window.
    Both men wore self-satisfied expressions, lips curved in faint smiles, eyes narrowing as they studied her.
    Four hours, he’d said. At this moment, she wished she’d worn something frumpy and thick. Wished she’d ignored the knock at her door. Only now did she wonder to what had she really agreed.
    * * *
    By the time they’d touched down on a concrete airstrip at their destination, her nerves were raw. The door opened and white-hot air took her breath away. Once she’d moved from the helicopter, she opened her jaws, trying to pop her ears. The roar of the helicopter’s engine was still inside her head.
    Serge handed Tilly her purse.
    Boone touched her elbow and led her to a waiting car, a black Esplanade with tinted windows.
    Another two vehicles flanked the car, armed guards standing near the doors.
    When she noticed the military-style weapons, her heart skipped a beat. But they were in Mexico now. Trusting Boone to know what was necessary, she allowed him to seat her inside the car between himself and Serge. They sat so close, both men’s thighs touched hers. Her skin rose in goose bumps.
    Tilly frowned and tugged at her skirt, which was trapped beneath Serge’s leg.
    “Sorry,” he said, lifting so she could free her garment. “You only had to ask, Ms. Floret.”
    Boone patted her thigh, drawing her attention to where his hand rested on her leg, then up to meet his gaze. Feeling rather like a butterfly beneath a magnifying glass, she kept silent, sure she’d only manage to say something that would make him laugh. She was tired and irritated—and afraid.
    Not for her physical safety, but by the fact she was dependent on him here for everything. Other than what she wore, she had no clothing, no toiletries. She didn’t speak the language, didn’t know what to expect when they arrived at the villa. He’d said he’d hired her for her professional services, but the way he’d spoken those words made her want to shout
those
services couldn’t be purchased.
    But they could be wooed. From the moment he’d arrived on her doorstep, she’d been hyperaware of every aspect of his appearance and actions. Although he was dressed in a dress shirt and trousers, a typical businessman’s attire, his posture and expression were wary, alert to their surroundings, to her every reaction. The breadth of his shoulders, the solid build of his body should have been reassuring, because