“Do you need a ride to the bank?” Lara asked, her voice rich with irony. “Or perhaps I should pay you in cash? I always keep some walking-around money in the war chest.”
“I don’t want to be paid at all. I haven’t done anything for you.”
“Not true, Mr. McLain. You provided a most entertaining display of fisticuffs three weeks ago. Couldn’t have delivered that knockout blow better myself.”
“You were there?”
“I was.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“Do you think going unseen is difficult for a woman of my talents?”
Craig pictured her face, her eyes, her figure. Even the little he could see through the steam was… mesmerizing. “A little.”
She hummed in acknowledgment of the compliment. “Well, you made your way here, so at least we know you can follow instructions. We can chalk your dismissal of my e-mail up to the learning curve.”
“There is no learning curve. I don’t work for you.”
“And yet you’re at my workplace.”
Craig sensed she enjoyed toying with him. That she’d take pleasure in going in circles with him until his patience was used up. “I’m not a butler.”
“Then what were you doing at the Tweed Institute for three years?”
“Making a mistake,” Craig said honestly. “And in case you thought dropping out was a decision I’m iffy on, I went into getting punched in the face instead.”
“Yes. You seem quite resolute there.” He heard the hiss of birch through the air as Lara struck herself with a sauna whisk. “Your father was Winston Jeeves. He was my butler as a girl.”
“I know.”
“I’m surprised you managed to unclench your jaw enough to say that. Strong feelings about him? Negative, I’d say. Must be why you go by your mother’s maiden name.”
“If family drama interests you so much, maybe you should watch Coronation Street like a normal person?”
Lara only seemed amused by the jibe. “Do I strike you as a normal person, Mr. McLain?”
Any answer Craig might’ve made was blasted right out of him. The mist swam out from between them and now he saw that Lara was naked. No towel, no underwear. The only thing covering her skin was the little switch of birch when she struck herself with it.
She was… divine. What other way was there to put it? The bronze skin from countless hours outdoors laying an ethnic vibe over the alabaster aristocracy of her angular features… the muscles filling out her lean frame in faint striations, like a layer of gold gilding an exquisitely carved statue, making it that much more beautiful.
She was a study in contrasts that strangely fit: the way her powerful limbs befitted her aristocratic bearing, the way her brown eyes and auburn hair seemed to shine with the sheer vitality of her despite the supposed ordinariness of their color… how her plump lips and wonderfully exuberant breasts bordered on pornography in how overt they were, flaming advertisements of the sensuality that was woven into every inch of her, every move, every gesture.
If she wasn’t so stylish, she’d be obscene as the sluttiest whore—but despite being naked, she carried herself with an elegance that almost managed to refute her own voluptuous body.
“A normal person would be wearing a towel,” Craig said, or words to that effect. It was hard to remember what he was saying when the only thing that seemed worth remembering was every second he could look at Lara and see… her.
Lara’s lips slid into a smile that pierced his body and dropped directly to his groin. Adding to the heat there like gasoline poured on a fire. “I enjoy looking good as much as the next girl. But I hardly think I need clothes to accomplish that. Hence I’ve decided to go naked while in my own abode. It’s quite liberating. You should try it sometime.”
Her eyebrows shimmered, and Craig felt a hint hit him like a dart: she might like to be there when he tried it out.
Craig tried to gather himself. Forced himself to. She was manipulating him. This was all to put him off-balance. And how could it not work?
“Now, I don’t consider myself someone who pries, per se, but it would be hard not to conclude that you had harsh words with your father, putting you off a trade in, ah, the service industry. From there you experimented with taking your passion for extreme sports and making a career of it. Doing rather well for yourself—an endorsement deal—before an injury rather took you out of that particular conversation. And now you’ve pivoted to mixed martial arts. All of which makes you perfect for my needs.”
Hearing the word ‘needs’ in that scintillating accent was like feeling a feather tickled over his manhood.
Lara stood, showing not the slightest shame in further displaying herself to him. Craig couldn’t see any reason for it, either. She was flawless in everything she showed him. Even a few scars she wore like a lesser woman would have on jewels.
She poured a ladleful of water onto the sauna rocks. Steam rose up as if eager to embrace her, hiding her from view, but leaving her voice alone. And the memory of her form almost more intense than the actual sight of it had been.
“Your father’s successor was a good man, but he’s presently faced with a number of health issues. He will be unable to continue in my employ. So I need a new butler. Someone I can trust. Someone with the training to properly care for the household as well as keep up with the demands of my… calling. You’re uniquely suited for that, Mr. McLain. Hence the retainer.”
Lara stepped out of the swirling fog. Craig could’ve gasped. Actually seeing her approach him, her body a symphony of well-honed motion, made him feel as transfixed as a bird before a snake.
“By the way, if you wish to shag me, you are welcome to. I’m presently experimenting with a free-use lifestyle. Any sexual act that my naked body compels you to perform, you can go right ahead and use me for it. I have a rather high sex drive. You won’t catch me with a headache.” Then she smiled like a razor would slash. “And if I did have one, I’m told an orgasm makes for quite an effective cure.”
Craig had to reach deep down through all the heady reeling of how she was making him feel to find even the most inadequate response to her. “You’re joking.”
“Sex is far too important a thing for me to joke about, Mr. McLain. But I should give a caveat. If you want my body, you’ll have to overpower it. Consider it sparring. Your lust will give you your motivation and as for me… well, my honor as a Croft would keep me from surrendering my virtue too easily.”
Craig had to wonder if the only thing in all this steam was water vapor. “Let me get this straight: you want to hire me to be your butler. I’m allowed to have sex with you whenever I want, because you’ll be walking around naked most of the time. But first I have to fight you, because you really like sparring.”
Lara gave a sharp clap of the hands. “You’re showing a real aptitude for taking instruction. I’ve chosen well, I think.”
“And if I don’t feel like having sex with someone who’s trying to punch me the whole time?”
“Good point. In the spirit of Marquis of Queensbury rules, let’s say that if you manage to pin me for three seconds, I’ll acquiesce completely to your sexual demands.”
“What happens if I lose?”
“Don’t you think missing out on sex with me is penalty enough?”
Craig made a show of thinking about it, but hell, he couldn’t. Lara Croft might be eccentric as hell, but she was a serious person. This was for real. She would never flaunt herself like this if it wasn’t actually what she was offering him.
Or maybe she thought she could get away with teasing him because there was no way he’d be able to take her in a fight.
Craig knew she was a terror, as good with her fists and elbows and knees as a woman could be. He’d heard whispers of someone that matched her description showing up in fight clubs and laying waste to anyone who would get in the ring with her.
But he also knew how good he was. And he didn’t think Lara would recruit someone just to come up short and make her feel better about her own fighting prowess. In fact, he thought she might’ve recruited him because she knew he could take her.
It was just a feeling he had.
“I’ll take the job,” he said, before grabbing her by the neck, spinning her around to slam into the siding.