Her Deal with the Devil. Nicola Marsh

course,’ she said, and the vein in her temple pulsed.

      It had been her ‘give’ when she’d been younger—a tell-tale sign that she was rattled—and he didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed that spending time with him disconcerted her.

      ‘And that doesn’t bother you?’

      She stood, cool and confident and lithe. ‘This is business. Why should it?’

      That vein beat to a rap rhythm. Yeah, she was rattled. Big time.

      ‘Okay, then, let’s do it.’

      ‘Fantastic. You won’t regret this.’ Her lush mouth eased into a wide grin. ‘We’re going to be great together.’

      ‘Absolutely.’

      And he kissed her to prove it.