He might as well have pulled out a red bandanna and waved it in front of her nose. What, she’d like to know, was so flipping amusing?
Connor tuned out Mitzi’s breathy whisper. His heart pounded as he watched the satin gown Daisy had made shimmer, spotlighting those provocative curves to perfection. He couldn’t make out her expression in the muted lighting, but the vision of high cheekbones, fine, alabaster skin and glossy red curls made all his senses stand up and pay attention. His annoyance and impatience dimmed, to be replaced by a rush of longing that he didn’t understand—and didn’t want to understand.
Even though she was still several feet away he could have sworn he could smell that spicy, erotic scent of hers, and feel the soft swell of her breasts beneath his fingertips.
The truth was, he’d never been a fan of networking, of getting all spruced up and showing himself off. But ever since Daisy had walked out of their bedroom earlier decked out in the ball gown, the green satin hugging her curves and making him ache in some very interesting places, the thought of going to the Governor’s Ball and mingling with people he didn’t give a hoot about had become considerably less appealing.
What he’d wanted to do was stay in their suite and make love to her for the rest of the evening, then listen to her talk—he adored how she drifted from topic to topic without pausing for breath in that practical, no-nonsense way she had—and then he’d planned to fall asleep with her head pillowed on his chest.
But after all the things he’d told her in the park, he’d been forced to dismiss the idea. He’d let things get too serious again without intending to, telling her things he shouldn’t about his past, and then, to top it all, he’d seen the tenderness, the longing in her eyes when he’d put his arm on her shoulders and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. She hadn’t challenged him about what he’d said, she’d simply accepted it—but he’d been waiting for the axe to fall ever since. For her to tell him how wrong he was for her. For her to throw his past back in his face. For her to demand more from him than he could ever give. But she hadn’t done it, and it was making him crazy.
But once they’d been in the limo, her seductive scent tantalising him, he’d finally had to face the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to let her go when they returned to England tomorrow as he’d planned. He’d thought that if he sated himself on her during these two weeks in New York, he’d be well over his infatuation by now, but she still captivated him as much, if not more, than she had the first time they’d made love.
She was less than five paces away from him when the chandelier illuminated her face at last. He could see anger and determination swirling in those expressive emerald eyes, and his stomach pitched. Had the penny finally dropped? Was she about to give him the boot?
He clamped down on the sudden surge of panic, the strangling feeling of pain and regret closing his throat. That was too bad. Because whatever was going on between them, it wasn’t over. He still had unfinished business with her and if she thought he was going to let her dump him, she’d have to think again.
‘Hi, Connor, why don’t you introduce me to your new best friend?’ Daisy said sweetly. Sweetly enough to cause tooth decay.
The bimbo had her hand on his lapel now. Daisy’s fingers clenched into a fist. She resisted the urge to slug the woman. But only just.
Connor looked momentarily confused, then glanced at the bimbo. ‘Oh, yeah, Mitzi, this is Daisy Dean, my fiancée. Do you think you could leave us be for—?’
Mitzi cut off whatever he was going to say with an ear-splitting giggle. ‘Your fiancée? You’ve got to be kidding me.’ Her high-pitched voice piped out like Marilyn Monroe on helium. ‘You never said you were getting married, sweetie.’ She pressed one of her scarlet-tipped talons against Connor’s cheek and giggled again before sending Daisy a smile filled with enough malice to make Mussolini look like a pussycat. ‘Why, I guess it must have slipped his mind, we were having such a good time and all.’ She shoved her expertly moulded breasts forward. ‘But then men get distracted so easily, don’t they, honey?’
Screw restraint. Daisy wasn’t taking that lying down. ‘Yes, they do.’ She smiled sharply. ‘Especially when they’re being smothered in enough cheap perfume to fell an ox.’
Mitzi’s jaw dropped comically. ‘Huh?’
‘Daisy, what’s got into you?’ Connor said, gripping her arm and stepping to her side.
She thrust her chin up, willing her bottom lip to stop quivering. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Connor. Maybe it’s that you’re wrapped around her when you’re supposed to be engaged to me.’
He looked at her as if she were talking in tongues. ‘Whoah?’
And she lost it. So this was what it boiled down to, she thought, as her fury—with herself as well as him—raged out of control.
He whisked her off to New York, he told everyone they were a couple, he said things to her she was sure he’d never said to anyone else and he made love to her with a power and a passion that made her lose her grip on reality. But when push came to shove, it had all been a game—at least for him. She was just another of the women he’d charmed into bed.
‘You heard me, Connor. Either you respect me. Or you don’t. You can’t have it both ways.’
‘I paid a grand a bottle for this stuff, you little bitch,’ Mitzi shrieked.
‘Shut up, Mitzi!’ he snarled.
‘I’m gonna tell my husband about this,’ Mitzi squeaked as she shrank back. ‘Don’t you think I won’t and you can kiss that damn deal goodbye.’
‘Be my guest, now get lost.’ He threw the words over his shoulder, his eyes still fixed on Daisy’s face.
The woman flounced off with an audible huff and Daisy became aware of the silence around them. At least twenty pairs of eyes were fixed on their little theatrical display.
‘Now why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on here?’ Connor announced, as if she were a naughty child, completely oblivious to their audience.
Daisy tried to step away from him, humiliation swamping her. But he was still holding her arm.
Oh, God, what had she done? She’d let her anger and uncertainty take over and now she’d made a complete spectacle of herself. But as if that weren’t bad enough, Connor was looking at her as if she’d lost her marbles. She felt the tears sting her eyes and pushed them back. It was so grossly unfair. Why did she have to be the one to fall in love?
She bit the sob back. Forget it, she wasn’t going to cry over him. And definitely not with all these people watching. ‘Let go of my arm. I want to go back to the hotel,’ she whispered. ‘We’re making a scene.’