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It was exactly what she needed to break the spell. Her chin angled. "Don't get pushy. I'll let you know if and when I want to play." She saw the change in his eyes and flashed her own. "Try it, just try it, and I'll shred the skin from your bones. You aren't the first man who thought he could shove me on my back and make me enjoy it."
He let her go because it was a wiser course than strangling her. "Don't compare me to the wimps and washouts you've wasted your time with."
Knowing her temper was ready to snap, she got off the bed. "I didn't come here to tear up the sheets with you, or to fight. I'm here to discuss business."
"Next time make an appointment." No longer worried about the niceties, he tossed back the sheets. Her eyes didn't flicker as he strode naked into the adjoining bath. "Since you're here, order up some breakfast."
She waited until she heard the shower running before she let out a long, relieved breath. Another minute, she admitted, and she might have eaten him alive. With a hand pressed to her jumpy stomach, she told herself they were both lucky she'd forced them to avoid that mistake.
But as she glanced back at the bed, she didn't feel lucky. Only deprived.
While Josh dressed, Margo enjoyed the first cup of coffee and picked over the silver basket of baked goods on the linen-decked table in the window nook of the dining area. She relaxed with the view of the piazza, the statues of gods and winged horses in white marble.
As did any suite in any Templeton, it offered a sumptuous interior as well as the view. A massive Oriental carpet spread over a floor of ivory tile. The walls were papered with roses with golden leaves, the fancy work of cornices and textured ceilings added to the opulence. Curvy settees rich with brocade and tasseled pillows, entertainment centers discreetly concealed in intricately carved cabinets, the little touches of statuary, antique lamps, heavy crystal ashtrays, giant urns filled with flowers, the full ebony bar curved in front of a glass wall—all bespoke that distinct Templeton flair.
The Art Nouveau style was just rich enough, just decadent enough to make even the most jaded guest sigh. She sighed herself.
But with Templeton, style went hand in glove with efficiency. A touch of a button on the streamlined white phone in every room of the suite could summon anything from fresh towels to tickets to La Scala or a bottle of perfectly chilled Cristal in a silver bucket. There was a basket of fruit on the pond-size coffee table, the grapes plump, the apples glossy. Behind the bar, the mini fridge would be stocked with unblended
Scotch, Swiss chocolates, French cheeses.
The flowers, abundant even in the bath and dressing rooms, were fresh, watered and replaced daily by one of the well-trained and always amenable staff.
She sniffed at the pink rose on the breakfast table. It was long-stemmed, fragrant, and just opening. Perfect, she mused, just as anything with the Templeton name was expected to be.
Including, she thought as Josh stepped into the room, the Templeton heir.
Because she was feeling just a little guilty about invading his rooms at dawn, she poured him a cup from the heavy silver pot, adding the generous dollop of cream she knew he preferred.
"Service at Templeton Milan is still the best in the city. So's the coffee." She passed him the cup when he joined her at the table.
"I'll be sure to pass your comments along to the manager—after I fire him for letting you in."
"Don't be cranky, Josh." She slanted her most persuasive smile his way, only slightly annoyed when she saw it didn't make a dent. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I wasn't thinking about the time."
"Not thinking is one of your most highly honed skills."
She plucked a berry from the bowl, popped it into her mouth. "I'm not going to fight with you, and I'm not going to apologize for not sleeping with you just because your ego's bruised."
His smile was thin and sharp as a scalpel. "Duchess, if I'd gotten your clothes off, you not only wouldn't have to apologize, you'd be thanking me."
"Oh, I see I'm mistaken. Your ego's not bruised, it's just painfully swollen. Let's clear the air here, Joshua." She leaned forward, the confidence in her eyes sultry. "I like sex. I think it's an excellent form of entertainment. But I don't have to be entertained every time someone suggests a party. I select the time, the place, and my playmates."
Satisfied, she sat back and lazily chose a tiny cake from the basket. That, she was sure, should settle that.
"You might be able to get away with that." She was right, he thought. The coffee was excellent, and put him in a better mood. "If you hadn't been trembling and moaning under me half an hour ago."
"I was not moaning."
He smiled. "Oh, yes. You were." Yes, indeed, he was feeling much, much better. "And on the verge of writhing."
"I never writhe."
"You will."
She bit neatly into the cake. "Every boy should have his dreams. Now if we're finished jousting over sex—"
"Darling, I haven't even picked up my lance."
