And Shaan had to ruefully accept that he wasn’t going to make this easy for her.
/> ‘I could always go away again, if you’re really that indifferent,’ she offered.
No comment—again, the ruthless devil. He didn’t even flicker a silky black eyelash.
‘The trouble is,’ she went on rather tragically, ‘you’re really much too old for me…’ She decided to rile him out of his wretched apathy.
It didn’t work.
‘I know,’ he agreed.
Her chest heaved on a small sigh. ‘You have twelve whole years more experience than me of how to play these scenes. It isn’t fair.’
The eyes opened, focusing directly on her. ‘Are you asking me to wait around for twelve years while you try to catch up?’ he enquired very drily.
‘What use would that be?’ she sighed. ‘You’ll always be twelve years better at it than me.’
‘Well…’ The eyes closed again. ‘If it makes you feel any better, then I don’t feel twelve years older—I feel fifty.’
‘Oh, poor old man,’ she mourned. Then caught his face in her hands and kissed him.
It took him completely by surprise.
But he didn’t really stand a chance anyway.
Though, to be fair, he did try to put up a fight, going all tense beneath her, his hands snapping to her waist and trying to pull her away from him while his mouth remained utterly unresponsive against the coaxing pressure of hers.
But, having caught him off guard she was determined to keep him off guard, so she proceeded to press soft, seductively moist little kisses along the unresponsive line of his lips until the tension began to leave him and his hands stopped tugging, and his mouth finally caved in and began kissing her back instead.
‘What was that for?’ he grunted when she eventually let them both up for air again.
‘Because, old man or not, I love you,’ she replied, and watched his mouth take on a cynical twist that completely derided that claim.
‘Where’s Piers?’ he asked then, as if he automatically related the word ‘love’ with Piers’ name where she was concerned.
‘Gone,’ she said. ‘Back to his insipid little wife who can’t kiss for toffee.’
Silky dark eyebrows arched at that ‘He said that, did he?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘But you did. Though why I should believe a single word that you say when you lie as well as you do, I don’t know,’ she added sagely.
‘Ah.’ He was beginning to catch on at last. ‘So he told you it all, did he?’
‘He feels guilty,’ Shaan explained. ‘Because he forced you into having to beg him to let me go.’
‘Beg?’ he said in protest. The liar. I threatened to kill him if he didn’t put a stop to his stupid games, but I object to being accused of begging!’
Shaan just shrugged. ‘Well, Piers saw it as you begging. And…’ her dark eyes took on the lustrous quality of wicked, dangerous teasing ‘…I rather like the idea of you begging him to jilt me so you could jump into his place.’
‘I’d watch my step, if I were you, Shaan,’ he warned very quietly. ‘Because I am still damned angry with you.’
‘Mmm,’ she acknowledged. ‘But I’ve brought you a present,’ she announced. ‘A peace-offering, if you like, for my not appreciating the lengths you were prepared to go to get me…’
And even white teeth began pressing down into her full bottom lip, liquid dark eyes pleading with him through the penitent sweep of her long dark lashes while she waited for a response.
It was a look he had seen before, right in the middle of the world’s busiest street market, and his eyes darkened at the memory of what that look had done to him then—because it was all pure female guile, that look. Maddening, teasing, playful, inciting—and it reacted on his senses like the sirens’ song that had been luring men to their deaths through the ages.
He let out a sigh—the mark of his own imminent death at this beguiling woman’s hand. ‘Go on,’ he conceded. ‘I’ll fall for it. What kind of present?’