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He seemed to be lost in thought, heavy-lidded eyes inward-looking, a brooding expression on his face. Preoccupied as he was, she could not resist indulging in just gazing at him a moment.
Oh, dear God, he really was gorgeous! She just stared at him, as if he were a forbidden cream cake in a baker’s shop. Then, forcing herself, she dragged her eyes away and finished pouring out her glass of water. She drank it down and set the glass back on the table.
She gave herself a mental shake. Whatever her first assumptions had been about why Leo Makarios had swanned in here at this time of night, it was clear she’d been completely wrong. He was simply here on an intelligence-gathering mission—the purpose of which was to protect his precious cousin from women who—shock, horror—fell in love with him.
Leo wasn’t here to pounce. In fact he was probably just using up some rare spare time while a piece of posh totty slipped into her couture negligee and buffed her nails in his state apartment downstairs. Rich men, she knew, from her years in the fashion world, did odd things at odd times. Being eccentric, like turning up complete with a midnight supper just to get the gen on his cousin’s squeeze, was one of the perks of being so loaded you could do what you liked and no one even blinked.
She watched him polish off the last of his meal. He definitely had a large frame to fill up. Not that there was the slightest sign of fat on him. All lean muscle. A lot of power and vigour at his disposal. Whoever was waiting for him was clearly in for an energetic night…
No—stop that! Her self-admonishment was instant and severe. The less she thought about Leo Makarios’s sex life—which had nothing to do with her!—the better. In fact, the sooner he was out of here the better. The hooks at the back of her dress were digging into her, and she was dying to get her make-up off and have a shower.
Well, he wouldn’t be long now, surely?
Leo set his plate down, picked up his wine glass, and leant back again.
‘You are not drinking your wine,’ he remarked.
‘Empty calories,’ she answered flippantly.
The frown came again.
‘Why do you starve yourself?’
Anna shrugged. ‘Some models have fast metabolisms and can eat a horse and not show it. Jenny’s like that. Me, I’ll just pile on the pounds if I eat.’ She gave a twisted smile. ‘I’ll eat when I retire,’ she said.
Why was she talking to him? She wanted him to finish his wine and go.
‘Retire? But you are how old?’
She made a face. ‘Long in the tooth for modelling. The cult is for youth—the younger the better.’
‘Ridiculous! Who would want the bud instead of the full flower?’
‘Modelling agencies,’ she said succinctly. ‘Young girls are a lot more malleable—controllable and exploitable. It’s a nasty business, modelling.’
‘And yet…’ his eyes rested on her ‘…you thrive.’
‘I survive,’ she corrected him. ‘But,’ she went on, ‘I’m not ungrateful. Modelling’s been a well-paid career for me.’
There was a shuttered look on his face suddenly.
‘Money is important to you?’
Anna looked at him. ‘I’d be pretty stupid if it weren’t! I’ve known models blowing the whole damn lot they earn—chucking it around on clothes and rich living—and they end up with nothing to show for it.’
‘But you are more shrewd?’ The heavy-lidded eyes were resting on her.
‘I hope so.’ She returned his look, keeping it level. His expression stayed shuttered.
Then suddenly, out of nowhere, it changed.
And Anna’s breath stopped.
He was looking at her. Just looking at her.
How can a look stop me breathing? Breathe—for God’s sake, breathe!
But she couldn’t. The breathlessness was absolute, endless.
And as she just sat there, the breath frozen in her lungs, her stomach seemed to be doing a very long, slow motion flip inside her.
Anna felt her hands close over the arms of her chair. Felt, as if from a long, long distance away, her muscles tense as she levered herself to her feet. But, like a mirror image, Leo Makarios was doing the same—getting to his feet.
He was coming towards her.
It was obvious why. Totally, absolutely obvious. And it had been from the moment the expression in his eyes had changed.
Changed to one of intent.
An intent that should have been making her body react the way it always did when she saw that kind of look in a man’s eyes.
But no man had ever looked like that at her before. With lust, yes; with speculation; with hot, hungry appetite; with eagerness and with expectation.
Never the way Leo Makarios was looking at her.
