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He sighed. He should have guessed she’d be the first woman to be turned off by the money instead of turned on by it. She was so contrary.
But how could he tell her how much he wanted her with him and not make it sound as if there were more going on than there actually was? He needed to lighten the mood, get things back on their proper footing, not make them more intense.
Then a vague recollection of what Danny had said about the whole Melrose problem came to him and he had his answer in a flash of divine inspiration.
‘You’ll stay here with me, Daisy. You didn’t just come for New York or The Waldorf. You came because you want me and I want you. And after what just happened there’ll be no more denying it.’ That at least he intended to make very plain.
She stiffened. ‘I don’t care. I told you I won’t be your—’
‘Shush now,’ he said, feeling the flutter of her pulse as he pressed his thumb into her wrist. ‘I’ve a solution to the problem that should satisfy your pride.’
He gave her a friendly pat on the rump. ‘Go get some clothes on. We’ve a lot to do before we can have supper and I’m famished.’
Instructing her to meet him in the lobby in twenty minutes, Connor left Daisy to get dressed in the private dressing room. As she prepared herself for the evening ahead Daisy got the distinct impression she’d just been railroaded, but she felt too bewildered to worry about it now. She needed some time alone, to make sense of what had happened. Of what she’d let happen.
She’d been so angry and humiliated after they’d made love—correction: after she’d begged him to make love to her, again—that she’d wanted to hate him.
But then he’d apologised, and she’d been forced to face the truth. He’d been honest about how much he wanted her and she hadn’t. And then she’d been doubly humiliated. Not only could she not resist him, but she couldn’t even claim the moral high ground now either.
As she dabbed on make-up and slipped into the vintage satin halter-neck dress she’d made she admitted that her protests that afternoon had made her seem like the worst kind of hypocritical prude. Had she really pretended to herself when she’d got on that plane—with a dazzling array of hooker underwear in her suitcase and the memory of their last sexual encounter still vivid in her mind—that she wasn’t going to sleep with him?
She’d been deluding herself all along and all he’d done was point it out to her—in a rather forceful manner. The fairy-tale fantasy that had lured her onto the plane didn’t just involve the glitz and glamour of a luxury fortnight in New York. She’d also been enthralled by Connor Brody and the incredible sexual chemistry they shared.
She stepped out of the penthouse lift, her pulse skittering as she saw Connor walking towards her, looking devastating in another of his designer suits. She wanted him, more than she’d ever wanted any man, and, however disturbing that might be to her peace of mind, she would have to stop denying it if she was going to learn to handle it.
Connor ushered her into the limo, and the small of her back sizzled under the warm weight of his palm. She sat back as the car sped off, watched the dizzying sights and sounds of Park Avenue roll by, and attempted to revise her survival strategy. Okay, staying out of Connor’s bed was not going to be a viable option for the next two weeks. But her basic theory was still sound. All she had to do was make sure she didn’t let her heart follow her hormones.
She watched as Connor leaned forward to give the driver instructions. Jet-black hair curled against the light-blue collar of his shirt; she clasped the purse in her lap and resisted the urge to run her fingers through the silky locks. Connor Brody was a dangerous man: dangerously attractive, dangerously desirable and dangerously single-minded. When he wanted something he went after it. And at the moment he wanted her.
She gazed back out of the window, tearing her eyes away from him.
But he’d already told her this was strictly a two-week deal—and that suited her too. She wasn’t going to start looking for her happy ever after with a guy who wasn’t remotely interested. She wasn’t her mother and this was her chance to prove it once and for all.
After their two weeks were up she would make sure she walked away from this relationship with some enchanting memories to savour and her heart one hundred per cent whole. The next fortnight would be a grand adventure that she intended to make the absolute most of, but it was not real life.
‘We’re here,’ Connor said, taking her hand and stepping onto the sidewalk.
Daisy stared at the iconic jewellery stall as he tipped the driver. ‘What are we doing here?’
‘It’s all part of the solution to our problem.’ He cupped her elbow in his palm. ‘By the way,’ he said, his eyes sweeping her frame, ‘that dress is deadly.’
Although the compliment pleased her, probably more than it should, she ignored the little leap in her pulse rate. He was railroading her again. And it was about time she put the brakes on. He’d called enough of the shots already.
‘What solution?’ she asked as he pushed the revolving door and stepped in behind her.
He settled his hand on the nape of her neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin. ‘I’m buying you an engagement ring.’
And just like that, her senses went haywire and her calm, measured, practical approach to the whole situation went up in flames.
‘I’m not wearing it. This is ridiculous.’ She tried to tug her hand out of his grasp, but he simply lifted her fist and brushed his lips across the knuckles.
‘Stop sulking, angel.’ He sent her a teasing smile. ‘Maureen will think you don’t like the ring.’ He nodded towards the sales lady, who was pretending to stack some of the store’s signature blue and silver boxes.
‘It’s not that and you know it,’ she snapped, hoping Maureen couldn’t hear them. ‘I can’t wear it.’
Having endured the ten-minute charade as he and Maureen had ummed and ahhed over a selection of engagement rings until he’d finally picked out a delicate silver band studded with diamonds, Daisy wasn’t sulking, she was in a state of shock.
