When Kate disturbs Ryder while he’s in the toy department having just accidentally knocked over a display of Dolls. Unfortunately for Kate she’s been forced to wear a rather tight Santa’s Little Helper outfit because her own clothes got drenched on the way to the store, and Ryder’s just spent two months in a war zone — so he ‘subdues’ her first and asks questions later. At this point she’s on the floor, with Ryder on top of her and her hands held down above her head… But still trying to maintain her dignity:
“Will you get off me, Mr. Sinclair?” Kate said in the most commanding voice she could muster while she was being pressed into a mass of jagged cardboard by a man who felt like he weighed several tons.
She swallowed down the lump of mortification in her throat as his gaze dipped down to her cleavage again.
Why had she come out here? She should have just stayed in her office and ignored the almighty crash from outside. Especially as her ethics had prevented her from “borrowing” anything from the clothing department while her wet clothes dried on her office radiator. Consequently, the only thing she’d been able to find to wear was the prototype for this year’s Santa’s Little Helpers outfits—which was two sizes too small.
“How the hell do you know who I am?” Lake-blue eyes glared at her accusingly.
She glared back at him, ignoring the spectacular blip in her pulse from the man’s face. With a day’s worth of stubble shadowing a strong jaw, blunt features darkly tanned from what she suspected was several months spent in some glitzy Caribbean resort, unruly hair that curled around his ears, and brows drawn into a sharp frown over those unfathomable blue eyes, he looked more like a marauding pirate than the pampered playboy she’d expected.
“I know who you are because I’ve seen your photo in Vanity Fair.” Although the chiseled, pretty-boy features of that man looked nothing like the ruggedly handsome face above her.