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“Are we back to that?” Slowly he let his gaze travel over her, from head to toe and back again. “Believe me, if I could erase that momentary behavioral aberration, I would.”
A momentary behavioral aberration? Was that what he called what had happened—what had almost happened? And that chill in his eyes. In his voice. How could he speak so—so clinically of what had taken place on the plane?
Anna narrowed her eyes until they were slits.
“That behavioral aberration,” she said, somehow making the words sound as if they consisted of four letters each, “was a clever ploy. At least, that’s what you intended it to be. But it didn’t work, did it? It didn’t work because I’m not one of your—your women.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. Looked over his shoulder. Stared into the corners of the elegant room.
“My women?” he purred.
She tossed her head.
“You know damned well what I mean. A man like you thinks he can snap his fingers and the entire female population of the planet will fall at his feet!”
“An interesting abuse of the laws of physics,” he said coldly. “And what has it to do with you and me and that airplane?”
“You thought you could compromise my position.”
“Was that the position you took when your leg was draped over mine?” Draco said with chilling politeness.
Her face turned an angry shade of crimson.
“You’re despicable!”
“And you are wasting my time.”
“You knew who I was all the time, Valenti!”
“You will address me as ‘prince’ or ‘sir,’” Draco heard himself say, and tried not to wince at the idiocy of it, but what better way to deal with the representative of a smarmy Sicilian gangster than to play on the ancient, if ridiculous, elements of class distinction?
“That’s why you invited me to sit with you.”
“I hope you know what you’re talking about, madam, because I most assuredly do not!”
She strode forward, came to a stop inches from him. The scent of her rose to him, something as feminine, delicate and sexy as her stiletto heels.
He recalled the scent from those moments she’d lain in his arms on the plane.
He recalled more than that.
The feel of her, pressed against him. The softness of her breasts against his chest. The heat of her body. The swift race of her heart against his, the sigh of her breath …
Draco frowned.
His body was remembering, too. Damnit, that was the wrong thing to have happen right now.
“You offered me that seat for a reason!”
“I offered it out of the goodness of my heart and the graciousness of my soul.”
“Ha!”
She tossed her head again. A couple of golden curls slipped free of whatever it was women called those silly things they used to catch their hair and keep it from falling free, as nature had intended.
“How pathetic! That you’d stoop to such measures.”
Her mouth was curled with contempt. Yes, he thought, but he could uncurl it in a heartbeat, kiss that mouth until it softened and sweetened under his.
