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He gave her a mocking little smile. 'What a suspicious mind you have!' His hand curled round her arm and he led her into the hotel before she had time to consider what she should do, walking with her to the lift, talking softly in the hushed night-time atmosphere of the hotel lobby.
'I'd rather go straight back to Lilli's flat,' she said weakly as the lift door closed on them and they climbed to the floor on which Joe's suite was situated.
'Relax and enjoy yourself,' said Joe with a smile that took her breath away. She looked down nervously, alarmed by her own response, knowing her heart was beating like a wild tattoo inside her chest and her body was trembling.
When they reached the suite he pushed open the door and Quincy walked past him. The, rooms were dark and empty. As Joe flicked down the light switch, she turned on him angrily.
'You lied! Carmen isn't here!'
'Isn't she?' Joe asked, but as Quincy darted back towards the door his arm barred her way. 'Where are you going?'
'I'm not staying here alone with you!'
'Why not?' he asked coolly, holding her. 'What are you scared of?'
The question choked back the flood of furious words which were about to burst out of her. She glared up at him, her green eyes glittering. He knew very well what she was worried about! There was taunting amusement in his face, he was daring her to admit that she was afraid that he might seduce her, and such an admission would be dangerously revealing. Joe could only succeed in seducing her if she wanted him—by admitting that she was afraid, she was admitting that she was attracted to him.
'Why did you lie to me? You knew Carmen wasn't here! You didn't arrange for any final photographs!'
His mouth twisted sardonically. 'I wanted to bring you here and I knew you wouldn't come unless you thought we wouldn't be alone.'
'That's despicable!' Quincy flung at him.
He shrugged and her eyes nervously watched the little movement, made aware by it of the power of the slim body under that elegant dark suit. The smooth tailoring could not hide the strength of his muscled chest—Joe Aldonez was a tough customer, for all his charm, a man whose face could look as if it had been carved out of granite. Quincy stiffened, hearing the silence of the empty suite beating around them, reminding her that they were alone, and that if he used force she would not be able to do much about it.
'I'm not in the habit of forcing myself on women,' he said, as if he read the thought in her eyes. 'You've no need to shiver in your shoes.'
'I'm not shivering in my shoes! I just don't like being lied to,' said Quincy, her chin raised defiantly. 'Will you take me home, please?'
He turned her towards the sitting-room, his arm controlling her, and said: 'Come and have some supper first.'
'I'm not hungry!'
He said so softly she only just heard him, 'Quincy, don't make me angry! This is our last evening together, don't spoil it.'
She was silent, a quiver running through her. Heat burned behind her lids, she swallowed on a lump in her throat, afraid she was going to cry. She barely knew him. Why on earth should she feel like bursting into howling tears?
He took off the little fur jacket she wore and gestured to her to sit down on the brocade couch, then picked up the phone and rang room service. 'We'll be ready for our coffee in ten minutes,' he told them, and put down the phone.
A cold buffet had been left on a table for them. Joe put some blue-green quails' eggs on a plate, added some caviar, and brought it to her with some wafer-thin curls of cold toast.
'I'm not hungry,' Quincy insisted.
'Try a quail's egg,' he said, and went back for some of the food for himself.
Quincy hesitated, then decided that a pretence of eating the food would at least keep them safely occupied until she could again insist on being taken home. She nibbled at a tiny egg, bit into a thin crisp of toast. Joe poured her some champagne and she refused to drink it. She had already drunk far more than she normally did and she knew she was lightheaded with the wine. She needed to be more clearheaded than usual right now, she did not want to go floating in a golden bubble of champagne-induced happiness. The whole evening was taking on the appearance of a dream—she looked back on it dazedly, her senses assailed by a dozen glamorous memories of chandeliers and flowers, candles and champagne, music and shadowy rooms.
The coffee came and she took hers black—it might wake her up, pierce the bubble of excitement she had been trapped inside. It did not seem to have much effect. Each time Joe leaned forward, or shifted beside her, she felt her nerves quivering with reaction.
When he took her cup out of her fingers, she sat stiffly upright. 'I really must be going!'
He put the cup down and, as she rose, fastened his fingers around her wrist and jerked her back.
'Don't!' Quincy said hoarsely, too late, and found herself pulled on to his lap. Her head whirled as she was tilted backwards against his arm. The champagne was making her dizzy, she decided, grabbing at his shoulder to steady herself. 'I don't want you to touch me,' she muttered, knowing her face was glowing poppy red.
'Liar,' Joe whispered, bending towards her, and his lips grazed gently over her flickering lashes, forcing her to shut her eyes. It was rather restful, she felt, as the light of the room vanished. Joe's lips glided right down her nose and she began to giggle, wriggling on his knees, until they reached their intended destination and closed over her parted lips. As she felt the hard, male mouth take possession of her own her body was wrenched by a sense of need that took her by storm.
Her hands went round his neck, her body curved towards him, and with a helpless, restless sigh of pleasure she met his kiss with a hunger which matched his.
