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Stowing her bag in a cupboard, making a mental note to take it home after the weekend, Darcy took a deep breath and knocked once briefly on Max’s office door before going in.
When she did, though, she nearly took a step ba
ck. Max was standing with a remote control in his hand, watching a financial news channel on the flat screen TV set into his wall. His hair was typically messy, but otherwise any resemblance to the Max she’d expected to see dissolved into a haze of heat.
His jaw was clean-shaven, drawing the eye to strong, masculine lines. He was wearing a classic three-piece suit in dark grey, with a snowy-white shirt and grey silk tie. Darcy swallowed as Max turned and his gaze fell on her. She couldn’t breathe. Literally couldn’t draw breath. She’d never seen anyone so arrestingly gorgeous in her life. And the memory of how that lean body had felt when it was pressed against hers, between her legs, was vivid enough to make her sway slightly.
There was a long, taut silence between them until Max clicked a button on the remote and the faint hum of chatter from the TV stopped.
He arched a brow. ‘Ready?’
Darcy found her voice. ‘Yes.’
He moved towards her and she backed out of his office, almost tripping over her own feet to pick up her evening bag and a light jacket matching the dress. As she struggled into it inelegantly she felt it being held out for her and muttered embarrassed thanks as Max settled it onto her shoulders.
She cursed the imagination that made her think his fingers had brushed suggestively against the back of her neck, and strode out of the office ahead of Max before she could start thinking anything else. Like how damn clingy her dress felt right then, and what rogue devil had prompted her not to wear stockings. The slide of her bare thighs against one another felt sensual in a way she’d never even noticed before. She’d never been given to erotic flights of fancy. Far too pragmatic.
Darcy didn’t look at Max as they waited for his private lift, but once they were inside his scent dominated the small space.
He asked, ‘You have the documents?’
‘Yes.’ Darcy lifted the slim attaché case she carried alongside her bag. It held some documents they wanted to have on hand in case Montgomery asked for them.
The lift seemed to take an eternity to descend the ten or so floors to the bottom.
‘You know, we will have to make eye contact at some point in the evening.’ Max’s voice was dry.
Reluctantly Darcy looked up at him, standing beside her, and it was as if a jolt of lightning zapped her right in the belly. She sucked in a breath and saw Max’s eyes flare. The shift in energy was as immediate as an electric current springing up between them, as if it had been waiting until they got close enough to activate it.
No wonder they’d been skirting around each other all day. They’d both been avoiding this.
For the nano-second it took for this to sink in, and for Max to make an infinitesimally small move towards her—for her to realise how badly she wanted to touch him again—there was nothing outside of the small cocoon of the lift. Desire pulsated like a tangible thing.
But then a sharp ping sounded, the doors opened silently and they both stopped—centimetres from actually touching each other.
Max emitted a very rude Italian curse. He took her arm to guide her out of the lift, although it felt more as if he was marching her out of the building.
Once outside, walking to his chauffeur-driven car, he said tersely, ‘I said eye contact, Darcy, not—’
‘Not what, Max?’ Darcy stopped and pulled her arm free, shaky from the rush of adrenalin and desire she’d just experienced, and self-conscious at the thought that she’d been all but drooling. ‘I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who looked at me as if—’
He came close. ‘As if what? As if I suddenly couldn’t think of anything else except what happened last night?’ His mouth was a thin line. ‘Well, I couldn’t—and neither could you.’
Darcy had nothing to say. He was right. She’d been utterly naïve and clueless to think that she could experience a moment like that with Max Fonseca Roselli and put it down as a rash, crazy incident and never want him again. A hunger had been awoken inside her.
But she could deal with that.
What she couldn’t deal with was the fact that Max—for some unfathomable reason—still wanted her too.
He glanced at his watch and said curtly, ‘We’ll be late. We can’t talk about this now.’
And then he took her arm again and led her to the car, following her into the plush interior before she could protest or say another word.
* * *
The journey to the restaurant was made in a silence that crackled with electric tension. Darcy didn’t look anywhere near Max, afraid of what she’d see if she did. She couldn’t handle that blistering gaze right now.
One thing was clear, though. She would be handing in her notice before this deal was done. She couldn’t continue to work for Max after this. But she didn’t think he’d appreciate hearing her tender resignation right now.
