Zane tore his gaze away and swallowed. It wasn’t good to go down that road. Only a fool would allow himself to be swayed by her enticing package, and he was no fool. She was a job just like any other, and he’d be damned if he'd do anything that could jeopardize his decidedly shaky position at Scanguards. If Samson and Gabriel thought they could throw a wrench into the works by dangling this temptation in front of him to test him, then he’d do his damnedest to pass that test, even if it meant passing up some hot piece of ass.

“Fine. I don’t care what your plans were, because guess what, they’ve changed.” He released her arms, his palms burning from the touch, the need to press her against him too savage to acknowledge. “Back inside.”

When she turned to round the side of the building, he grabbed her top and pulled her back.

Portia whirled around, her hair flying, her face furious. The sight nearly undid him, undermining his resolve to treat her with indifference. “I was going inside,” she bit out.

Zane shook his head once before motioning to the window above him. Her eyes followed his look. When her jaw dropped, he knew she’d caught onto his thinking.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she protested.

“Do you see me laughing?” He doubted that he even remembered how to laugh or smile. It had been so darn long since he’d made his facial muscles perform that particular action.

“And how am I supposed to get up there?” She gestured to the window.

“You managed to get down on your own. I’m sure you can figure out a way to get back up there.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, waiting and indeed curious to see what she'd come up with. In particular, he wanted to see how she managed to get up that wall and through the window without him getting an eyeful of her hot legs and whatever else she had hidden under that short skirt of hers. While he couldn’t touch, nobody could slap him on the wrist for looking. And he was gonna do some looking, a whole bunch of it. Not that it would aid in tamping down the beast inside him that demanded its due.

Portia stepped further back into the garden and looked up at the window. Her forehead furrowed as she assessed the situation. He could almost see the little wheels in her mind turn as she narrowed her eyes. She briefly glanced at him and lifted her chin in a clear show of defiance. Suited him fine. He wasn’t here to make friends with her.

When she suddenly took off toward the back of the garden, he was taken by surprise. It took him half a second to recover and launch into a sprint to follow her. She was about to vault herself over the garden fence when he reached her and pulled her down. Without ceremony, Zane slung her over his right shoulder, her head dangling over his back, his hands imprisoning her legs.

“Let me go!” she yelled and pounded her fists into his lower back.

He didn’t care. She was touching him, and at present it was all he could think of. The faster he got her into the house, the more of a chance he had to keep his hands off her, because even the rough treatment she doled out right now was turning him on. Add to that the way he was carrying her, her shapely rump level with his face as if he needed an invitation more obvious, and he’d already lost. He kept her bare legs restrained by his arms, but couldn’t prevent his thumb from straying and swiping over her soft skin in a hushed caress.

Frustration howled through him, and it had nothing to do with his charge’s failed attempt at escape and everything to do with the thrill he’d felt at the short chase. As if he were hunting prey.

He deliberately turned his head away from Portia’s sweet backside when he lengthened his stride and moved toward the house, but not even that prevented her female scent from infiltrating his sensitive nostrils and clinging to the tiny hairs inside his nose. The ten second sprint was pure torture.

And he was a sucker for torture.

Zane kicked the front door shut with his boot and plopped Portia onto the couch. But if she thought he’d let her off this easily, she was sorely mistaken. Before she could make a move, he was on her, pinning her down with his body hovering over her, daring her to make another attempt at escaping.

It wasn’t fear that lashed at him from her fiery eyes but annoyance. He ignored it and lowered his head so only an inch of air separated them. One inch away from a kiss if he were so inclined.

“Maybe I forgot to mention something very important,” he started. “Let me make it clear to you now: don’t underestimate me. What I say goes.”

Her breath hit him as she parted her lips, and he drew in the scent. All it served was to make him even harder. If she could feel him, she gave no hint, riling him up even more.