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His eyes followed Sasha’s tall, slim figure down the hallway.
She surprised him, he admitted reluctantly. She also infuriated him. She made his blood boil in a way that was so basic, so...sexual—even without the benefit of those pictures...
Dios! With a growl, he whirled towards the window. When he’d gone to her room to set things straight this morning the last thing he’d expected was for her to reassure him that it had been no big deal.
Despite being totally into the kiss—as much as he’d been—she’d walked away from him last night. A situation he’d never encountered before.
Was it because she didn’t really want him? Or was she merely waiting for his brother to wake up so she could resume where they’d left off?
Acid burned through his stomach at the thought. But even the corrosive effect couldn’t wash away the underlying sexual need that seared him.
He’d rushed through his meeting with every intention of calling one of the many willing female acquaintances on his BlackBerry. But once he’d returned, his need to go out again had waned. He withdrew from examining why too closely.
He turned back from the window and his eyes fell on the pictures on the sofa. To the one of her draped all over his car...
Blindly he stumbled towards his jacket and dug around for his phone. Two minutes later reservations were made. By the time his Rolls collected him from the foyer, Sasha Fleming had been consigned to the furthest corner of his mind.
* * *
Marco stood outside the door ninety minutes later, caught himself listening for sounds from inside, and grimaced in disbelief. He’d spent the last hour or so wining and dining a woman whose name he couldn’t now remember.
He’d stared at his date’s in-your-face scarlet lips and thought of another set of lips. Plump, freshly licked lips, captured in perfect celluloid. Lips that had responded to his kiss in a way that had sent the most potent pulse of excitement through him.
Forbidden lips.
In the end he’d thrown down his napkin and extracted several large notes. ‘You’ll have to forgive me. I’m terrible company tonight. I shouldn’t have disturbed your evening.’
The practised pout had reappeared. ‘You know I’ll forgive you anything, Marco.’
Candy? Candice? had leaned forward in another carefully calculated pose, designed to showcase her body to its best advantage.
‘Listen, I have an idea. I know how much you like your coffee. When I was filming in Brazil last month I absolutely fell in love with the coffee and brought some back with me. Why don’t we skip dessert and go back to my place and I’ll give you a taste?’
Barely containing rising distaste, he’d shaken his head. ‘Sorry, I’ll take a rain check.’
He’d led her out amid soft protests and further throaty promises of the delights of her cafetière. But coffee, or sex with Candy/Candice had been the last thing on his mind.
His sudden hunger for chocolate caramel had become overpowering.
‘Take my car. I’ll walk,’ he’d said.
And now here he stood, skulking outside his own apartment like a hormonal teenager on his first date.
He entered and approached the living room.
She was curled up on the sofa, a bowl of popcorn in her lap. Her head snapped towards him. As if she’d been listening out for him too. The thought pleased him more than it should have.
The striking blue of her eyes paralysed him.
‘You’re still awake.’ Excelente, Marco. First prize for stating the obvious.
She blinked. ‘It’s only nine-fifteen.’ Her eyes followed him as he shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on the sofa. When her gaze lingered on his chest he felt the blood surge stronger than before.
He watched her fingers dance through the bowl of popcorn, the movement curiously erotic. His heart hammered harder. ‘You didn’t have the chocolate caramel after all?’
‘Charlie’s disapproving face haunted me. Popcorn is healthier.’ She looked away. ‘So, how was your date?’ she asked, her voice husky.
He wrenched his gaze from her fingers. ‘You really want to know?’
Her sensual lips firmed and she shook her head.
The need to gauge her true feelings drew him closer. ‘Jealous?’
She inhaled sharply. ‘I thought we weren’t doing this?’
His eyes fell to her lips. ‘Maybe I’ve changed my mind.’
‘Well, change it back. Nothing has changed since this morning. I can’t handle your...baggage. And I don’t want a relationship. Of any sort.’
Marco opened his mouth to tell her he didn’t want anything from her either. But he knew he was lying. His very presence in this room belied that.
