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He loosened his collar and leaned his head back against the sofa as one of his staff droned on about the guest list for tomorrow night’s gala. From upstairs he could hear Sierra moving around and then the sound of a shower being turned on. He pictured her in the luxurious glass cubicle, big enough for two, water streaming down her golden body, and his whole body tightened in desperate arousal.
‘Mr Ferranti?’ The woman on the other end of the line must have been speaking for a while and Marco hadn’t heard a word.
‘I’m sorry. Can you say that again?’
A short while later Sierra came downstairs, dressed in a T-shirt and snug yoga pants, her hair falling in damp tendrils around her face.
Marco took one look at her and ended his call. His mouth dried and his heart turned over in his chest. She was utterly delectable, and not just because of her beauty. He liked having her in his space, looking relaxed and comfortable, being part of his world. He liked it a lot.
‘You’ve finished your calls?’ she asked as she came towards him. She curled up on the other end of the long leather sofa, tucking her feet underneath her.
‘For the moment. There are a lot of details to sort out but first I think I want to eat.’ His eyes roved over her hungrily and a blush touched her cheeks. Marco smiled and gestured to the city lights sparkling in every direction. ‘The world is our oyster. What would you like to eat? We can order takeaway. Whatever you want.’
‘How about proper American food? Cheeseburgers and French fries?’
He laughed and pressed a few buttons on his phone. ‘And here I thought you’d be asking for lobster and caviar and champagne. Consider it done.’
* * *
Sierra watched as Marco put in their order for food. She felt jet-lagged and sleepy and relaxed, and she laid her head back against the sofa as Marco tossed his phone on the table and rose in one fluid movement.
‘I’m going to get changed. The food should be here in a few minutes.’
‘Okay.’ It felt incredibly pleasant, no, wonderful, to sit there and listen to him go upstairs. The snick of a door closing, and she could imagine his long, lean fingers unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off his broad shoulders. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. She remembered the feel of his body against hers, her breasts crushed against his chest...
A smile curved Sierra’s mouth and she closed her eyes, picturing the scene perfectly. Then she imagined going up those stairs herself, opening that door. What would she say? What would she do? Perhaps she wouldn’t have to do or say anything. Perhaps Marco would see her and take control, draw her towards him and kiss her as she wanted him to.
‘I think the food’s here.’
Sierra’s eyes flew open and she saw Marco standing in front of her, wearing jeans and a faded grey T-shirt that clung to his pecs. His hair was slightly mussed, his jaw shadowed with stubble, and she didn’t think she’d ever seen anything as wonderful, as desirable.
‘You look like you were about to drop off,’ Marco remarked as he took the food from the attendant who stepped out of the lift.
‘I think I was.’ She wasn’t about to admit what had been going through her head. The mouth-watering aroma of cheeseburgers and fries wafted through the room and Marco brought the tray of food to the coffee table in front of the sofa.
‘We might as well eat here.’
He handed her a plate heaped with a huge burger and plenty of fries and Sierra bit in, closing her eyes as the flavours hit her. ‘Oh, this is good.’
Marco made a choked sound and Sierra opened her eyes, her heart seeming to still as his hot gaze held hers. ‘Look like that much longer and I’ll have to forget about this meal,’ he said, his voice a low growl, and awareness shivered through her.
‘It’s too delicious to do that,’ she protested, her voice breathy, and Marco shrugged, his gaze never leaving hers.
‘I can think of something more delicious.’
Colour flooded her face and heated her body. This was so dangerous, and yet...why shouldn’t she? Why shouldn’t they? They were in a glamorous hotel in one of the most amazing cities in the world. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, to keep them from acting on the desire Sierra knew they both felt.
Marco plucked one of her French fries from her plate. ‘Your face is the colour of your ketchup.’
She laughed shakily and put her burger down, wiping her hands on the napkin provided. ‘Marco...’ She trailed off, not knowing what to say or how to say it.
Marco smiled and nodded towards her still full plate. ‘Let’s eat, Sierra. It’s a big day tomorrow.’
That sounded and felt like a brush-off. Trying not to feel stung, Sierra started eating again. Had Marco changed his mind? Why did he say one thing and then do another? Maybe, Sierra reflected, he felt as conflicted as she did. Maybe a fling would be too complicated, considering their history.
