4

Neither would he bother lifting a fainting female from that same floor in order to carry her to a comfortable sofa. And he certainly wouldn't enter into conversation about the book she had been reading before she went to sleep… How embarrassing was it that this man—a man whose every movement was as smoothly lethal as the predator hero in her book—had discovered her weakness for sexy vampire stories? It wasn't just embarrassing—it was mortifying!

"Are you a relative of Mrs Cooper?"

Although what a relative of the housekeeper would be doing in the main house was beyond Caroline.

The intruder obviously thought the same thing, as he gave her a mocking glance before replying, "Nope."

"Are you going to tell me who you are, or—?"

"Or what?" He leant back against one of the work-units, arms folded across the broad width of that seriously muscled chest, those dark eyes narrowed on her ominously. "I think a more interesting question to answer might be who are you?" he said. "More to the point, what the hell are you doing in Frank Connelly's house."

Caroline, momentarily mesmerized by the ripple of muscle clearly shown beneath the man's tight black sweater, now recoiled as she heard the anger in his voice. "I work here. I mean, I'm here for work,"

"As what?"

Caroline wasn't sure she particularly cared for the insult that she detected in his tone. "Not that it's any of your business, but my name is Caroline Anderson, and I'm staying here so that I might catalog Mr Connelly's extensive library for him…. And meet up with a client for him tomorrow,"

"You're Frank Connelly's assistant?" The man straightened, his dark gaze incredulous as it ran over Caroline from her head to her toes.

"That's correct, yes," she confirmed guardedly, wondering why that should mean anything to him. At the same time she felt incredibly warm under the intensity of his dark gaze.

"And he knows you're here?"

She swallowed hard. "Well…yes. It was in fact his idea that I stay here while I get the job done," Why was she explaining herself to this man? What was it about him that compelled her to answer him? That made the very air about him seem to crackle with the force of his will?

"And here I was, expecting to have some time to myself before going home," the burglar-who-wasn't-a-burglar murmured, with a self-derisive shake of his head. "My father sure knows how to ruin everything,"

Caroline gaped at him. There was no other word to describe it. Caroline Anderson, most definitely gaped! This tall, dark and magnetically handsome man was Nicholas Connelly himself. The son of Frank Connelly, who, as Frank had once told Caroline, hadn't been back home for over seven years!

______

"Tea…?" Nicholas prompted mockingly as Caroline Anderson moved dazedly across the kitchen to sit down on one of the breakfast stools, even while she continued to stare at him with a frown on her face. She probably had to sit down before she fell down, Nicholas acknowledged ruefully. No doubt it had been unnerving earlier, for this woman to suddenly hear someone banging and crashing about the kitchen and believing it to be a burglar. Only to discover it was Frank Connelly's son come to visit.

"Tea would be…lovely,"she accepted. "Um…. Did your father know that you were coming here? I mean, does he know that you're here?" Surely Frank wouldn't have sent her here without telling her about his son's impending visit.

"Nope," Nicholas said shortly.

"Oh."

Nicholas' mouth twisted as he took pity on her dismayed expression. "I didn't tell him that I was coming, Caroline. I thought I'd just lay low here for a few days before coming home, but as you can see, that plan is definitely not going to work now,"

How could Caroline have missed the fact that this man did have some physical resemblance with his father? Probably because she had been too captivated by those deep and melodious tones to notice!

If she hadn't been so mesmerized then she might have added two and two together and realized this man was probably related to Frank Connelly. That he was, in fact, Frank's son…

"Looking for any physical resemblance between me and my dad?" Nicholas Connelly rasped harshly,

"I was just thinking that I should probably call your father and let him know that you are here," she said defensively. "Something you should have done too"

He grimaced. "Of course, do what you have to do,"

She frowned at his skeptical tone. This son of Frank was clearly a handful. He had his father's mouth, eyes and wit too. She remembered that Frank had once told her that he had one child. An only son who Caroline now realized was looking at her with far too much familiarity. That warm chocolate gaze moved slowly over her pajama-clad body, pausing on the firm thrust of her breasts against the thin cotton material.

Caroline moved uncomfortably as she felt that gaze like a lick of heat across her skin. "Would you excuse me for a few moments? If we are going to continue this conversation I would like to go upstairs and collect a robe," she added pointedly, as Nicholas Connelly raised questioning brows.

"Oh, we are going to continue it," he confirmed. "And isn't it a little late for modesty?"

Caroline's cheeks coloured warmly as she stood up, thinking of being carried in this man's strong arms wearing nothing more than a pair of thin cotton pajamas… "Nevertheless, I believe I would feel more comfortable in my robe," she said firmly.

"Fine," Nicholas accepted uninterestedly and he turned away, pretty sure that the good assistant was going upstairs in order to regroup as much as anything else.

Before heading upstairs, Caroline took the opportunity to grab her phone from the library. The first thing she did when she got to her room was call Frank, who picked up after she called twice. He sounded grumpy too, like he'd been asleep.

"Caroline," he asked when he picked up, "Why are you calling so late at night? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, sure," Caroline replied, "I'm very sorry to bother you, sir, but your son showed up at the house not too long ago and I thought I should let you know. I didn't know what else to do,"