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Louis hadn’t banked on the way she seemed to creep into his head without him even noticing her advance. The way that when she looked at him, the expression in her ice-blue eyes was hot enough to melt entire glaciers, speaking to his very sex.
He should shut her down, but he couldn’t quite manage it. Time to turn the tables instead.
‘I can think of a lot more interesting pastimes than a sixty-second pop psychology session,’ he countered suggestively.
‘You do see that you use sex as a distraction when the conversation heads off into waters you don’t like?’ she demanded.
Her voice was a little too husky. Still, it hadn’t escaped him that she had a point.
‘You credit me with too much guile.’ He summoned a practised grin and stepped closer to her. ‘Maybe I just enjoy sex. Pure, unadulterated, anim
al sex.’
She held her ground but he didn’t miss the way her pulse jumped at her throat. Did that pretty flush currently sweeping over her pretty face also extend to that indecently sexy body of hers? How he’d love to find out.
‘Stop it.’
A half-hearted mutter at best. He let his hand skim over her jawline and her breathing grew shallower, the swell of her soft breasts visible with each inhalation. His palms actually ached to touch her, to discover whether her nipples were as taut, as perfect as they’d felt against his chest a few hours before.
‘Why? You can’t deny there’s an attraction between us. We both felt it even at the gala, and if there was any doubt then that kiss back at the restaurant dispelled it.’
He took another step, his hands restrained in his pockets, letting her be the one to reach out and make contact, palms flat against his chest but by no means pushing him away.
‘Fine.’ A gurgle of triumph rumbled in his body at the vaguely strangled sound. ‘There’s an attraction there, I can’t deny it. But, apparently unlike you, I can control myself without having to pursue every desire that takes hold of me.’
‘Do you pursue any?’ he demanded, and she gave a quiet gasp.
‘Are you calling me frigid?’
‘I wasn’t.’ His tone was even, unconcerned. ‘But I find it interesting that you should choose the term. Is it something you’ve been accused of in the past?’
She lifted her head defiantly.
‘No. It is not.’
‘Ah.’ Louis nodded gently. ‘Then it’s merely your own hang-up.’
‘You...don’t know what you’re talking about.’
The moment of hesitation said it all. A heavy silence swirled around them for a moment until Louis chose to take pity on her.
Or himself.
There was no room for the sentimental side of Louis Delaroche. It wasn’t what people wanted to see. It wasn’t what he wanted to see. And he didn’t appreciate the way Alex kept excavating little memories that he’d long-since buried.
He’d rather go back to the arrogant playboy Louis than be the man who still wondered at what might have been.
As if sensing him closing off to her, Alex tugged herself free and backed away. This time he didn’t try to stop her. She seemed to get under his skin both mentally and physically.
His lips still burned with the memory of their kiss. The ghost of it still lingered, haunting him with its feigned promise. Rattling him, when nothing ever got to him. Making him feel out of control, vulnerable.
The thought pulled him up sharply. He wouldn’t allow himself to be vulnerable. Emotions were for those too weak to control themselves. Surgery gave him the only buzz, the only kick, the only sense of triumph and pride that he needed. Especially when he carried out intricate, hail-Mary procedures that lesser surgeons shied away from even when they had nothing left to lose.
He might need to tame his wild, arrogant playboy reputation in order to finally start to wrest the Delaroche Foundation from the hands of the self-serving Jean-Baptiste, but that didn’t mean he had to change who he was under the surface.
Since when had he allowed himself to become confused over just how fake his relationship with Alex really was?
