It made her feel what? But then he recalled how she had writhed in his arms when he’d undressed her, and figured he knew.
Her chin lifted. ‘I think, possibly, on an entirely subconscious level, when I researched you, I must have decided you would be a good choice. Because you’re so assured, sexually. And I’m not.’
When I researched you.
He released her. Okay, that was intrusive.
‘Right.’ He dug his fists back into his pockets, trying to muster the required anger at what she’d revealed. Because if he’d understood her right—and, given his sleep deprivation and the fact that all of his blood had drained out of his head, that was debatable—she’d just told him she’d dug into his private life so she could engineer a meeting with him. But she sounded so earnest and sincere, those Bambi eyes were doing funny things to his equilibrium.
‘I need coffee.’ He scrubbed his hands down his face. ‘I’ll call you a cab while you’re in the shower,’ he grunted, not as enthusiastic as he should have been at the thought of getting rid of her.
‘A cab would be great, thank you,’ she said, before she hurried away with her clothes.
He frowned as he headed for the kitchen. He rarely did sleepovers, because he preferred not to deal with the morning after. And the demands on his time that inevitably followed.
The fact that Eva Redmond hadn’t made a single demand—hadn’t even seemed surprised when he’d offered to call a cab—should have pleased him. It didn’t.
He’d made a rash decision, and led with his lust instead of his common sense last night. So why was he so tempted to make another one this morning?
He emptied the coffee pot, started going through the ritual of brewing a fresh pot. Time to mainline caffeine, before he lost his mind completely and invited her to stay for breakfast… So he could bombard her with all the questions that had kept him awake most of the night. And then sweet-talk her back into bed.
Nick inhaled the first precious sip of scalding black coffee and tried to ignore the buzz of the mobile phone coming from Eva’s bag. He glanced down the corridor to the bedroom door.
Where the hell was she? He wanted her gone before the last of his will power seeped into his pants. The ringing cut off, then started right back up again.
He slapped the mug down and grabbed the bag. After rummaging for a few seconds trying to locate the phone, he dumped the contents onto the countertop. An array of female paraphernalia poured out: pens, a make-up case, a roll of antacids, a notebook, a sheath of papers, tissues, a cotton sweater. Finally he spotted the buzzing mobile under a file folder.
Swiping it up, he clicked the answer button. ‘What?’ he barked into the receiver.
There was a slight pause, then a succinct female voice asked, ‘Oh, hello. Is that Niccolo Delisantro?’
‘The name’s Nick,’ he corrected, but softened his tone, the woman’s precise English accent reminding him of Eva. ‘I take it you’re the busybody friend,’ he added, vaguely recalling the long, skinny girl in the blue dress from the previous evening.
The woman laughed. ‘Correct. And being a busybody, I’m busy trying to find out where Eva is.’
Leaning back against the countertop, he lifted his coffee mug to his lips, took another satisfying sip. ‘She’s in my shower,’ he said, the odd feeling of satisfaction coming from nowhere.
‘I see.’ The woman didn’t sound particularly surprised at the revelation. ‘Is she spending the day with you, then?’ she asked.
His heart bumped. ‘No,’ he said, too quickly. ‘She’s leaving once she’s dressed.’
There was a longer pause, then the woman came back on the line. ‘Could you ask her to give Tess a call?’
‘Sure.’
‘Excellent. Thanks. It’s been nice talking to you,’ she said crisply.
‘Yeah.’ He clicked the phone off, dumped it back on the countertop. And glared at it. What was with the heart bump? He didn’t want to spend the day with Eva. Didn’t want to know her secrets. The sooner she left, the better.
He contemplated the bedroom door again as he sipped the coffee, not even sure he could convince himself. What was it about her that made her different from all the other women he’d slept with? It had to be the whole virginity business. Somehow he’d got hung up on it. Crossing to the coffee maker, he refilled his cup.
Snap out of it, Delisantro. You’re not thinking straight.
This ended here. Now. No more
questions. And no more answers. It would only make her more of a distraction.
He stared at the debris sprawled across the counter, briefly contemplated looking through her stuff. But then dismissed the thought. He ought to stick her things back in her bag. Snooping would imply a level of interest in her he didn’t have.