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Only, it didn’t help. Not when her eyes ravished his face before sinking to his chest, staring at him as though she’d never seen a naked man before. And hell, perhaps she hadn’t. Alejandro hadn’t got as far as removing his shirt the night they’d made love. A perverse fascination made him want to stay like this, to welcome her inspection, but an awareness of how badly he’d stuffed up at Luca’s wedding had dogged him ever since.
Having sinfully wicked dreams about her was one thing, but inviting her to stare at him, wishing she’d touch him, quite another.
And if she was pregnant? And she must be—why else would she be here?
‘Please, take a seat.’ He gestured to the white leather armchairs arranged by the full floor-to-ceiling windows.
Sienna turned to face the windows, and her distraction allowed him a brief moment of weakness, to allow his own gaze to drift over her body. It was stupid. A foolish move. How could he see her in that summery mini dress and not want to rip it off her? She lifted a brown leather backpack from her shoulder, placing it by the door.
He propped his butt on the edge of his desk, a study in nonchalance, as she moved towards the armchairs. She stood behind one, not sitting down, her eyes troubled when they met his.
‘Would you like a drink?’
‘No, thank you.’
He crossed his arms, watching, waiting, wondering at the hammering of his blood, the throbbing of his central nervous system. He knew the executioner’s blade was about to drop, yet even that couldn’t stop him from looking at her and wanting a rehash of the last time they’d been alone in the same room together...
But there were bigger, more important issues at play now. He pushed aside his libido with difficulty. ‘So I take it we’re having a baby together?’
She looked at him as though he’d started speaking Cantonese, and then her cheeks flushed as pink as her beautiful full lips. ‘Oh, no.’ She shook her head and a clip of her hair dislodged, dropping down beside her cheek. ‘I’m not—that’s—not why I’m here.’
He didn’t visibly react but, inside, emotions were pulling at him, confusing him.
‘You said you’d contact me if we had conceived a baby.’
‘But we didn’t, so I didn’t.’
‘To be clear, you are not pregnant?’
‘No. Definitely not.’
‘That’s not why you are here?’
‘No.’
Relief was a drug. He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he allowed himself to walk back from the ledge, to return to the vision of his life as he currently knew it. ‘Thank Cristo.’
When he opened his eyes, it was to find her staring at him, and he realised he still hadn’t pulled on a shirt. ‘Then what are you doing here?’ Dangerous, full-blown temptation simmered in his blood.
Think of Luca.
He’d made the man a promise, and he’d already broken it once. That had been a truly unforgivable mistake, albeit spontaneous. Twice would be a willing, premeditated betrayal.
‘Maybe I will take a drink after all.’
‘What would you like?’
‘Scotch?’ she said with a half-smile.
He strode to his liquor cabinet, concealed behind a darkly wooded pantry, and removed a bottle of aged whisky, pouring a measure into a crystal glass, which he carried across the carpeted floor to her.
He could have handed it to her from a safe distance away, but a compulsion he didn’t know how to ignore was flooding him. He came around the chair, so they were almost touching, and held it at her chest level. Her fingers reached out to take the glass, wrapping around his, and a thousand electric shocks danced beneath his skin at the simple contact. He dropped his hand away but stayed right where he was.
She let the drink touch her lips at first, and then threw it back in one measure, screwing up her face as the taste assaulted her body. ‘That’s better.’ She coughed a little.
‘Water?’
‘No, I’m okay.’ She kept the glass cradled between both hands, holding it in front of her, so if he leaned forward his chest would brush her hands. ‘I just feel a bit ridiculous, being way out on this ledge over here.’
