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“I believe you’d like to apologize to Ms. Jones for being rude to her,” Ivan said. “Then you’re going to tell her thank you very nicely for the great opportunity and the scoop you don’t deserve. Finally, you’re going to promise to play by the rules.”
Patrick arched his spine in an effort to push back but Ivan slammed his hands on the armrests of Patrick’s chair. “I don’t hear you.”
“Uh… I–I’m sorry,” Patrick said, his face even redder than before.
Alice snapped out of her frozen state of shock and jumped to her feet. “It’s all right.”
Ivan acted as if she wasn’t in the room. “And?”
Patrick licked his lips. “Thank you.”
Ivan tilted his head, patiently waiting.
“I’ll follow the rules,” Patrick concluded.
“Good boy.” Ivan patted him on the shoulder like one would pet a dog.
The minute Ivan let go of the chair, Patrick scrambled away. He couldn’t get up fast enough. “I’ll let the photographer know we’re on our way.” He picked up a desk phone and rambled off instructions.
Alice shot Ivan a reprimanding look, but all she got in return was his seductive smile.
Done on the phone, a flustered Patrick led them and the two bodyguards to a downstairs studio where he introduced them to Andrew, one of the newspaper’s fulltime photographers.
“Wait outside,” Ivan mumbled to Ben and Donald. “I don’t need an audience for this.”
Andrew looked Ivan up and down. “I presume you need to change.”
Alice took the new, carefully folded pencil pusher shirt she’d washed and ironed from her briefcase and handed it to Ivan.
His fingers brushed over hers when he took it. “Always prepared.”
She reeled from the sparks that popped where their fingertips touched. “Part of the job.”
“So you keep saying.”
“Do you need a change room?” Andrew asked.
“No,” Ivan said, holding her gaze. “Here will do just fine.”
Alice fumbled with her collar and looked away to break the stare, lest Patrick, who stood brooding in the corner, got the wrong idea.
“I booked a makeup artist, just in case,” Andrew continued.
“That won’t be necessary.” Ivan pulled the T-shirt over his head. “I’ll go for natural.”
Unable to help herself, Alice stole a peek and swallowed. The lines defining his muscles ran deep, etching him like a statue carved in stone. His abdomen was cut into neat cubes reminding her of a slab of chocolate. No hair dusted his chest, only the line that ran from under his navel into his jeans. Thinking about where that trail led made her grow hot under her jacket. She hooked a finger under her collar that suddenly felt too tight.
A slow smile tilted his beautiful, full lips. Bummer, she’d been caught staring. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, Ivan took his time to pull on the shirt. She tried not to look, but he had a magnetic pull on her visual reflex.
He lifted an arm, exposing the unbuttoned sleeve. “If Kate was here she would’ve helped. I know it’s not your job,” his smile turned sardonic, “but can you button me up?”
She laid a hand over the base of her neck, her skin clammy even with the air conditioning in the room. “The makeup artist—”
“It’s just putting a button in a hole, Alice.” He said her name softly, demonically, and the laughter in his eyes told her he enjoyed toying with her.
The sexual innuendo of fitting a button into a hole wasn’t lost on her. Adamant to ignore his taunting, she squared her shoulders and walked over. She felt his eyes on her face the whole time she fumbled with the cuff buttons, but refused to meet them. When the task was done, she pushed her glasses up from where they’d dropped to the tip of her nose. She was about to step away, but Ivan gipped her chin and tilted up her face.
“Ready?” Andrew, who’d finished his setup, called from the far side of the room.
Ignoring Andrew and Patrick as if they didn’t exist, Ivan gave her a piercing look. “Button me up, Princess.”
She motioned at his sleeves. “I just did.”
The playful light in his unearthly, mismatching eyes was back, but he didn’t smile when he said, “All the way.”
The absence of his grin while those sparks detonated in his eyes made him look too much like the young Ivan, the Ivan who knew what she wanted and who’d given it to her with the best orgasm of her life. He was so damn hot and scary at the same time.
She wasn’t scared. She’d move on. This time, she didn’t avert her eyes as she fastened the shirt buttons, starting at the second one from the top. Her fingers skimmed over his chest when she pulled the edges of the shirt together. The slight contact alone made her breath catch, but she did a good job of hiding it.
Whatever had happened to her control? Her heart beat as if she were a schoolgirl facing an idol, and it only got worse as she neared the hem of the shirt. Careful not to graze his crotch, she pulled the fabric away from his body and finished with the last button. There. Of course she could do it. It was as easy as convincing herself to go on the Big Dipper.
