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Roark flipped a light switch and illuminated the foyer. The gleaming wood floor of a long, wide gallery led the way into the apartment. A large fortune in artwork kept watch as Elizabeth let Roark usher her forward.
“And is this Mrs. Myott going to call the police when she notices us prowling around?” She stopped short in front of a painting. “That’s a Monet.”
“Yes.” Roark’s hand applied pressure on the small of her back, urging her on. “The kitchen’s this way.”
Elizabeth put her weight into her heels and refused to budge. “I’m not taking another step until you tell me whose apartment this is.”
Roark shot her a mischievous grin. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
She let her raised eyebrows provide the answer.
“It’s mine.”
Another piece of the puzzle that was Roark Black snapped into place, but the picture wasn’t any clearer.
“Yours?” This time Elizabeth was too shocked to resist when he nudged her into motion. “But you live in Soho.”
“This is where I grew up.”
“It’s wonderful.” The apartment’s red damask wallpaper, antique furnishings and ornate marble fireplace might be the polar opposite of the white walls and contemporary furniture of Roark’s loft, but the marble lions flanking the entry into the living room revealed where he’d come by his love of history and antiquities. “Why don’t you live here?”
It was just a tiny flinch, little more than a twitch near his left eye, but Elizabeth noticed and realized that hidden beneath Roark’s good-humored facade lay a thin layer of anxiety.
“Because I like my loft better.”
“Why don’t you sell it?”
“Want a tour?”
Once again he’d avoided a direct answer to her question. From the grin curving his lips as he imparted a tale about his boyhood antics, she could tell he was fond of the apartment. Good memories had been made here. But during one brief glance he shot her way, she spied melancholy deep in his eyes.
She could relate to the sadness. Her happy memories of her sister were intertwined with the aching reality that she’d never see Stephanie’s face again or hear her laugh. They’d never stay up late talking about Elizabeth’s job or the latest antics of Stephanie’s book club members.
/> “And this was my bedroom.”
Lost in thought, Elizabeth realized she’d missed a chunk of the tour. “Nice.” She followed her comment with a grin. “Has it always looked like this?”
The large room, wallpapered in rich brown, was not exactly how she’d decorate a boy’s room. A bed, canopied in heavy gold curtains dominated the wall opposite three large windows. The ceiling had been painted a dark turquoise, the color picked up in the two wing chairs flanking the heavy marble fireplace.
“I think it has looked like this since my grandfather bought the place.”
Elizabeth rolled her lips in to contain a smile. “Not exactly your taste, is it?”
“No, but the bed’s comfortable.” And before she caught his intent, he swept her up in his arms and dropped her in the middle of the mattress. “When I was a teenager, I spent a lot of time imagining what it’d be like to have a girl in this bed.”
Her thoughts melted into puddles of incoherence as he eased himself down on her and captured her mouth in a sweet, sexy kiss. Sliding her fingers into his hair, she lost herself in the feint and retreat of his tongue as it tangled with hers.
Despite the long hours they’d spent together, her desire for him rekindled, but he seemed perfectly content to take his time exploring her mouth in slow, tender kisses that awakened more of a tumult in her heart than in her loins. Last night she’d decided she could handle keeping their relationship purely physical. This affectionate intimacy was way more dangerous.
In the past few days she’d learned he liked her as well as desired her. It’s why she’d decided to stop fighting the attraction between them. Trouble was, she was damned close to really liking him back. And therein lay trouble.
A throat cleared behind them.
“Welcome home, Roark.”
A woman’s wry voice cut through the romantic tension rising in Elizabeth. She put her hand on Roark’s shoulder to push him back, but he’d already released her lips and set his forehead against hers. His chest pumped as he sucked air into his lungs.
From her position pinned beneath Roark, Elizabeth couldn’t see the woman who stood in the doorway, but apparently Roark knew exactly who’d interrupted them.
