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And for what? To prove that Carl was wrong? That she wasn't-wasn't a frigid little rich bitch?
Alex's stomach took a tumble. She closed her eyes. All right. She'd proved it, in the most humiliating way possible. Proved it to herself and to this man she didn't know, a man who surely hadn't turned her on, who'd simply been in the right place at the right time when she was in desperate need of pretending she could feel desire...
The footsteps and voices were just beyond the doorway. Alex trembled.
"It's all right," Travis whispered, and drew her against aim.
And she let him do it. Let him stroke his hand up and down her spine, until she felt boneless. Let him thread his fingers into her hair and gently bury her face against his throat. Against the hot, masculine skin she'd tasted and wanted to taste again. Against that swift-beating pulse that mirrored hers. Against that hard, powerful body she yearned to explore, against that terrifying, exhilarating, exciting arousal...
A sound broke from Alex's throat and she tore herself from Travis's arms.
"I'm sure the women you usually keep company with enjoy this sort of thing, Mr. Baron."
Travis blinked. "What?"
"The—the primitive approach. It must wow them, back in—in Little Rock. Or—or Dallas. Or wherever it is you come from."
His eyes narrowed as they focused on her icy features. "Hey, babe, take it easy. I don't know what your problem is, but don't take it out on me."
"Probably sweeps them off their feet, in cow country. But this is Los Angeles, sir. And I'd appreciate it if you'd just get out of my way."
Travis's mouth thinned. "Get out of your way?" he said, slowly and softly.
"How nice to know you don't have a hearing problem, Mr. Baron. Yes. Get out of my way. Now."
His vision grew dark. He felt the surge of his blood as the most primal of instincts took over, urging him to do what he longed to do to Alex Thorpe, what any man would want to do, and teach her a lesson she'd never forget.
"There's a name for women like you," he said. "And I'm sure you've heard it many times before."
He watched her face go white, braced himself for the sting of her hand against his jaw ...but it didn't happen. She simply stood very still, her body as rigid as a marble column. Then, to his amazement, she smiled.
"Believe me," she said softly, "I've been called worse."
Her voice quavered on the last word but she kept smiling. It was that brave, sad smile that defeated him, made him wish to God he could call back the ugly words he'd used but it was too late. Alex Thorpe stepped past him, onto the sidewalk just as a cruising taxi came by.
"Alex," Travis called, "Princess, wait..."
She stepped into the cab, the door shut and the taxi roared off into the night.
CHAPTER FOUR
TRAVIS paced the floor of his home on the beach at Malibu.
He was angry, restless—and frustrated.
What had made him think he owed Alexandra Thorpe an apology? Okay, he'd called her something pretty lousy but, dammit, it was a name she more than deserved. And what had made him behave like such a jerk? He'd acted like a monkey on a stick all night, jumping in whatever direction she'd wanted. Turn him on, turn him off...
"What does she think I am?" he muttered. "A light switch?"
He paced some more, opened the glass sliders that led from his bedroom to the deck and glowered at the Pacific Ocean.
The whole thing was ridiculous. The auction. The bidding. Her behavior, his behavior...
He swore and stomped back into the bedroom. He tugged off his boots, yanked off his tie, dumped his tux and everything that went with it on the floor and kicked the entire mess into the corner, in the process stubbing his toe on the corner of the bed.
"Bull-spit," he roared, and danced around the room on one foot. He limped to the dresser, took out a pair of running shorts and a Texas Longhorns T-shirt and pulled them on. His toe still hurt but he didn't much care. Pain was a part of running, anyway, he told himself grimly, and set out for a hard five miles on the packed sand.
He was panting when he got back, and sweat-drenched. But he felt better. Most definitely better.
"Goodbye, Ice Princess," he said as he dumped his shorts and T-shirt on the tiled floor and stepped into the shower.
He loved this shower. Sybaritic, Slade had said, the first time he saw it, and yeah, it probably was. An overhead spray. Two side sprays. A marble bench. And room enough for two...
For two. For Alex, and for him. Travis closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to soap that beautiful body. To cup her naked breasts. To bend his head and taste them, to hear her breathy little sighs as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, to pin her back against the glass wall while the water beat down like warm rain as he buried himself deep inside her slick heat... .
