Page 19

Andrei chuckled, tugging at the leather glove on his hand. His voice dropped low, too quiet for the guards or caddies lingering at the edge of the fairway. “She is the one I’ve heard the rumors about?”

For a long beat, Paulo had forgotten who she even was. He forgot why she was here. He forgot the deal, the danger, everything. Then reality snapped back like a whip. “She’s Keane’s daughter,” he replied flatly.

“And she is with you because…?” Andrei’s tone was smooth, probing.

Paulo opened his mouth, ready with the easy answer. She’s just bait. The lure to force Keane out of hiding. That had always been the plan. But the words caught in his throat.

Was that still the truth?

He thought of her considering glances over the rim of a whiskey glass. Of those god-awful cookies she’d been so proud of. Of the way she’d attacked his tiles with a scrub brush, like her life depended on it. And damn if the floor hadn’t been cleaner than before. He thought of her little sighs when she tasted something she liked, how she smiled as if savoring every note of the whiskey, her lips curling around the rim of the glass.

His gut tightened.

“I understand,” Andrei said with a chuckle before Paulo could speak. He strode toward the cart, tossing over his shoulder, “Let’s go find our balls.”

Paulo blinked. Find our balls? That was… an odd way to phrase it. Possibly crude. Possibly just golf. With Andrei, one never knew for sure.

Before he could decide, Madelaine appeared at his side, her delicate fingers brushing his forearm. Heat shot through him like a live wire.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, stepping closer. “You did a great job on that last hit.”

Hit? Paulo nearly choked. No one called it a hit. It was a swing. A drive. Baseball had hits. Golf had form. Technique. Precision.

And why did he care? When had he become a golf purist?

Maybe it wasn’t the word. Maybe it was that he didn’t have the right to grab her and kiss her until she forgot what sport they were playing. To wrap his arms around her and discover if she tasted as good as she looked.

And maybe get his hand on the soft curves of her ass under that tiny skirt. Definitely a mistake letting her wear the skirt.

“It was a horrible drive,” he corrected gruffly, covering his thoughts. “Let’s go find my ball. Maybe I can redeem myself.”

He lifted his head just in time to see Andrei’s golf cart zip by, the man smirking like he’d just won something.

Oh, that bastard was going to pay. For the smirk. For the comment. And most of all, for the way his eyes had lingered, too long, on Madelaine’s ass.

Andrei had no right to notice Madelaine’s curves. None.

Of course, Paulo didn’t have that right either, but he conveniently ignored the fact. Protector, not admirer. That was the line he kept repeating to himself. Over and over.

He helped her back into the golf cart, his hand brushing her arm. A small touch, but it burned through him. Then she sat, the little skirt sliding higher, just enough to reveal another inch of those damn legs. Long, toned, and so perfectly shaped he could imagine them wrapped around his waist as he…!

Golf. He was here to play golf.

And Madelaine was off-limits. Enemy’s daughter. Bait. Entirely off limits. So, why couldn’t he remember that for more than ten seconds at a time?

Grinding his teeth, Paulo slid into the driver’s seat and pressed the accelerator. The cart lurched forward faster than necessary, his guards sharing knowing smirks behind him. He ignored them.

At the next hole, he nodded to his caddie and accepted a new club. He pretended not to care that Madelaine was watching. Of course he didn’t need her approval. He was Paulo Ruffino. He didn’t need anyone’s approval.

Yeah, right.

He lined up his shot, inhaled, exhaled. Focus. Picture the ball on the green, rolling straight toward the hole. Just focus.

But his eyes flicked unwillingly toward the cart anyway. Was she watching?

Ignore her! Focus on the damn ball!

He breathed in, breathed out, pulled back and… swung hard, followed through, and this time the contact was perfect. The ball arched through the brilliant blue sky, landed cleanly, and rolled to within two inches of the cup.