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‘I’m not doing anything. You, on the other hand—you’re …’ She sucked in a desperate breath.
‘I’m what?’ he demanded, his voice low, ferocious.
‘You’re all brooding and … and fierce … and angry … and … aroused. You’re cursing your desire for me and yet your eyes are promising all sorts of rampant steaminess.’ Her eyes darted back to the bulge in his trousers and a lump clogged her throat.
‘I … I think you should leave.’
‘You don’t sound very sure about that.’
‘I am. I don’t want you. And even if I did you’re off-limits to me, remember? So you can’t … can’t present me with … this!’
A pulse jerked in his jaw. ‘I never said the situation wasn’t without complications.’
‘Well, the solution is easy. You hired me to do a job so let me get on with it. We don’t have to see each other until the season ends and we win the Constructors’ Championship. We’ll stand on the top podium and douse ourselves in champagne. Then we’ll go our separate ways until next season starts.’
‘And you will have fulfilled this promise you made?’
Surprise zapped through her. He remembered. ‘Partly, yes,’ she replied, before thinking better of it.
His gaze turned speculative. ‘To whom did you make the promise?’
She dragged her eyes from his, the sudden need to spill everything shocking her with its intensity. But she couldn’t. Marco didn’t trust her. And she wasn’t prepared to trust him with the sacred memory of her father.
She shook her head. ‘It’s none of your business. Are you going to leave me alone to get on with it?’
His mouth firmed into a hard line. ‘The team has too much riding on this for me to take my eye off the ball at this juncture. So do our sponsors. Once you have proved yourself—’
‘Yes, I’ve heard it all before.’ She couldn’t stop the bitterness from spilling out. ‘Prove myself. Don’t bewitch anyone on the team. Especially not the boss. Message received and understood. Perhaps you could take your frustrations elsewhere, then, and spare me the thwarted lust backlash?’
He stiffened with anger. ‘Dios. Has no one ever told you that the difference between attractive feistiness and maddening shrew is one bitchy comment too many?’
‘No one has dared,’ she threw back.
‘Well, take it from me. You need to stop throwing blind punches and learn to pick your fights.’ He strode towards the door. ‘Romano will drive you to your appointment and bring you back here.’
‘That’s not necessary. I’ve hired a scooter.’
He whirled to face her. ‘No. Romano will drive you.’ His tone brooked no argument.
‘Seriously, Marco, you need to dial back the caveman stuff—’
‘And you need to take greater responsibility for your welfare. If you come off your scooter and break an arm or a leg the rest of the season is finished. I thought you wanted the drive? Or do you think you’re invincible on those little piles of junk you like to travel on?’
She bit back a heated retort. Marco was right. All her hard work and sacrifice would amount to nothing if she couldn’t ensure she turned up to her races with her bones intact.
‘Fine. I’ll use the car.’
Pushing back the covers, she slid her feet over the edge and stood. The air thickened once more as Marco tensed.
Sasha refused to look into his face. His brooding, tempting heat would weaken her sorely tested resolve.
‘I need to get ready for the shoot.’
He made a sound she couldn’t decipher. She squeezed her thighs together and fingered the hem of her T-shirt.
‘Your breakfast will be delivered in half an hour.’ He moved towards the door. ‘Oh, and Sasha …?’
Unable to stop herself, she looked. Framed in the doorway, his stature was impressively male and utterly arresting. ‘Yes?’ she rasped.
