He stared at her. ‘So what is it about me that makes you behave so differently?’
She shook her head distractedly. ‘Maybe I’m really angry with myself—for behaving in such an outrageous manner. For letting you…. For wanting you…’she finished, in a voice that was shaking.
‘For wanting me?’ he echoed, and pulled her back into his arms, burying his face in her hair to hide his smile of sheer delight. ‘Is that it? Is that all?’
And that really told him everything he needed to know. She liked sex; well, so did he. They had clicked in a way that was little short of dynamite, and they could click again. A beautiful, captivating woman whose appetite matched his. Two bodies in total harmony, with the added spice of distance between them that would keep hunger alive and boredom at bay. Yes, she would make a perfect lover.
Sooner or later he was going to have to reveal his identity, but he didn’t anticipate a problem with that—for when had it ever been anything but the ultimate turn-on? And he would not tell her yet. For this freedom he should surely cherish while he was able to.
He reached down to pick up the crumpled and discarded dress and handed it to her, splaying the other hand proprietorially just below her belly. The tips of his fingers tangled in the damp cluster of tawny hair, and his eyes glittered with anticipation as she sucked in a shuddering and helpless breath.
‘Weren’t you going to show me where the bedroom is?’ he drawled.
CHAPTER SIX
THE telephone began to jangle and Ella jumped.
Let it ring, she told herself. Because if it is Nico—if it is—then nothing is sadder than someone who is just sitting around waiting for it to ring.
‘I will call you, cara mia,’ he had murmured, after a protracted kiss that had taken her breath away.
And then he had left, with half the buttons of his shirt missing. He had paused at the door and looked down at them, a mocking expression curving the sensual mouth. ‘Good thing I’m not going straight to an appointment,’ he’d murmured.
‘Just where are you going?’
‘To London. I have an early start.’ And then, because he had needed to work out exactly how he wanted to play this, he had kissed her again. ‘I’ll call you.’
Up until now he hadn’t. He was probably busy—at least, that was what Ella kept telling herself, trying to be cool about it, still believing that he really would call. Because the alternative was just too much to contemplate. That it was just a line he’d spun in order to leave without having to endure a scene. She had fallen into his arms with almost shameful ease, and maybe he’d done that typically masculine thing of wanting her and then despising what came too easily.
But it wasn’t just pride that made her hope he had been telling the truth—it was the fact that she was aching to speak to him. She had believed him when they had lain there, with Nico stroking her skin, telling her that she was the most fantastic lover ever, because she had wanted to believe him—needed to believe him. As if that in some way justified the rampant way in which she had behaved. And the words had almost made up for the fact that he had left before midnight, with the mocking murmur of, ‘Ciao, Cinderella’, ringing in her ears.
She snatched the phone up. ‘Hello?’
‘Ella?’
She very nearly wept and slammed it down again, for the voice was not deep and sexily foreign and she recognised it instantly, although she pretended that she hadn’t.
‘Speaking,’ she said guardedly.
‘Ella, it’s Mark.’
‘Oh, hello.’ The frost crept into her voice quite naturally. She had hoped she’d heard the last of him, after that disastrous boat trip. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘How come you managed to avoid getting put into jail along with rest of us?’ he demanded.
‘I was the only one who was sober, if you remember! And I was sick.’
‘So I gather.’
‘Look, Mark, I’m a bit busy—’
‘Not too busy to hear what I have to say.’
Ella frowned at the phone, something in his tone alerting her to trouble. ‘What?’
There was a pause full of undisguised excitement.
‘You know the guy who called the police?’