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She was so gorgeous that she couldn’t have faded into the background if she’d tried, but she wasn’t trying.
He really liked that.
He took in the details in one swift head-to-toe sweep. Her outfit appeared to be a glorious clash of colours; the only subdued element was her fur-cuffed snow boots, the velvet-looking close-fitting jeans tucked into them a deep rich burgundy, her sweater orange, the padded jacket that hung open turquoise.
She was either colour-blind or making a point; either way it worked, though, having reached her face again, he lost interest in colour coordination because the face occupied by those fire-spitting eyes was beautiful—heart-shaped, surrounded by long dark drifting tendrils of glossy hair that had not been confined in the messy topknot of curls pinned high on her head.
Her delicate bone structure and warm colouring conveyed a sense of both fragility and sensuality. The glowing flawlessness of her skin stretched across smooth, rounded high cheeks projected youth and vitality, the slight tilt of her neat nose gave it character and cuteness. Her mouth, however, was not cute at all; it was full and plump and at that moment pursed as she scowled at him.
He found his eyes lingering overlong on their pink softness, unaware that the hunger he was feeling was reflected in his hooded stare; he couldn’t remember ever having experienced such an instant, intense visceral response to a woman before.
The way this man was looking at her... It was only her angry defiance that stopped Maya turning and running, letting him see that she was only brave on the outside.
If she was really brave it would not have crossed her mind even for a split second to remain a silent observer to this public display of cruel bullying, to pretend she hadn’t seen.
The knowledge that she had been tempted to do just that made her almost as mad with herself as she was with the target of her wrath as her eyes were met and held by the piercing stare of the man in front of her, who was towering over her. She embraced her anger as well as the rush of blood to her head, only now she was experiencing another rush of blood, pounding all around her body, because the way he was looking at her made her feel totally exposed and shaky inside.
With a sharp blink of her eyes, she pushed back at the sensation of vulnerability, clenching her jaw as she gathered herself, deliberately focusing on what had triggered such an intense reaction.
As she opened her eyes again and met his stare head-on she was relieved that therawexpression she had just seen in his gaze was gone. She lifted her chin; she wasn’t the kind of woman who melted into a puddle because a man looked as if he wanted her.
She focused instead on the soul-destroying contempt she had seen in his eyes as he’d spoken to the artist, the dismissive curl of his lips...every contemptuous syllable an eerie echo of ones she had heard so often from her stepfather. The situation had varied but the meaning was always the same: you are useless, worthless, don’t even try.
She was no longer a child sitting there with her head bowed taking it, having her self-belief stripped away by her stepfather, and she wasn’t about to watch it happen to someone else. She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t call out that sort of bullying.
‘Everyone’s a critic,’ she said hotly. ‘Especially those who are incapable of understanding artistic talent. You wouldn’t recognise quality if it bit you on the—’ She felt her focus slipping away like wet rope through her fingers as one of the lights that had lagged behind the others suddenly burst back into life, shining like a stage spotlight directly at the object of her contempt. He was under the spotlight butshewas the one who dried.
He sighed and stamped the last of the snow off his boots. ‘This has not been the best of days for me.’
His voice was deep and edged with gravel, the slightest of accents only upping the fascination factor he held for her.
Her chin jerked upwards. ‘Is that athreat?’
‘How much?’ He tossed the question to the youth over her head.
‘You think you can buy your way out of anything, I suppose,’ she muttered bitterly. Everything about him screamed money and exclusivity, she decided, as her glance lingered on the breadth of his shoulders.
But the realisation that anger was no longer solely responsible for the dizzying adrenaline rush coursing through her body hit her.
He was objectionable and a bully, but she was ashamed to admit she was a long way from being immune to the waves of male magnetism he exuded.
Taking a deep sustaining breath, she broke the spell of those eyes and felt a trickle of moisture snake down her back. She wasnotabout to fall in lust with some random stranger. ‘You have talent.’ She threw the words over her shoulder at the artist. ‘Andyou,’she added, killing her smile,‘won’t destroy anyone’s confidence or fill them with self-doubt.’ She lifted her chin a defiant notch and thought,Not on my watch!
Samuele had been on the receiving end of a few unfriendly looks in his time, but nothing that came close to the sheer loathing that he was being regarded with by this total stranger.
He found himself wondering what it would take to make her smile at him...Possibly seeing you lying dead at her feet, suggested the sarcastic voice in his head.
‘And never,’ she ground out through clenched pearly teeth to the young man, ‘letanyonetell you otherwise.’
‘I’m fine—’ began the artist.
She cut across him unapologetically. ‘Never apologise for someone else’s rudeness, and don’t letanyonegaslight you. You have to believe in yourself.’
Samuele was caught between annoyance and amusement. She clearly had issues, but they were none of his business. ‘What are you, his girlfriend or his life coach?’
‘Just someone who doesn’t like bullies,’ she sneered. ‘What do you do for an encore, show kittens who’s boss?’ She widened her eyes in mock admiration. ‘A big tough man like you, what inadequacy are you compensating for?’ she wondered. ‘Dumped by the girlfriend?’
‘Wondering if there’s a vacancy?’ he shot back.
