She pushed out a little laugh, guilty knowledge tying her stomach in knots. She wondered how fascinated he would be if he knew the truth. That underneath the glamorous camouflage of Tess’s designer dres
s lurked dull and dependable Eva Redmond?
‘I do know who you are,’ she said, quelling the dreadful stab of disappointment. ‘Our meeting tonight wasn’t an accident. I’ve been trying to contact you for over three weeks to make an appointment with you.’ The twist of curiosity on his lips died. ‘I went to that gallery opening tonight because it’s imperative that I speak to you about—’
He touched his finger to her mouth, silencing her confession. ‘Shh.’ To her amazement his lips curved in a wry smile. ‘I get it.’ He shrugged. ‘If all you want is an appointment, we can meet at my agent’s office tomorrow afternoon.’ His hand fell away and he shoved it back in his pocket.
She stared at him, astonished, not only that he was taking her deception so well, but that he seemed to have been expecting it. Then the greasy knots of tension dissolved and she grinned, giddy with relief. He knew who she was. He knew why she was here. He must have recognised her name after all from all the messages she’d left with his agent and his publicist.
‘If, on the other hand, you want more,’ he continued, and giddy relief turned to giddy shock, ‘then I’m happy to explore how much more. Tonight.’ His rough palm cupped her cheek, the husky tone of voice making the erotic intent unmistakeable. ‘But whatever we do tonight has no bearing on what happens tomorrow. I don’t do favours for sex.’ The light tone made the implication that she might have been suggesting such a thing seem amusing rather than insulting. ‘Even really good sex.’
‘What if it’s not really good sex?’ she asked, the question popping out before she could stop it.
His brows flew up and he choked out a laugh. A hot flush fired into her cheeks.
Good grief, Eva, shut up. It’s not like you’re actually going to take him up on his offer.
But then he brushed the callused skin of his thumb across her bottom lip. And every single reason why she couldn’t possibly allow herself to be seduced by a man as dangerous as Nick Delisantro flew right out of her head.
‘Why don’t you let me worry about that?’ he murmured.
She sucked in a breath, the throb of heat between her thighs painful.
Kiss me.
The words echoed in her mind. But his gaze flared, as if he had heard her plea and he leaned close, surrounding her in his spicy scent, then pressed firm lips to hers. She let out a staggered breath, the contact as unexpected as having the silent yearning instantly fulfilled.
His tongue traced her bottom lip then explored in expert strokes, his hand capturing her head. She opened her mouth to let him in, her palms flattening against his chest, fingers clutching at the soft wool of his sweater as heat sizzled across her skin. Her tongue delved back, timid at first, then growing in confidence, coaxed into action by the warm, wet skill of his lips, his tongue.
The kiss seemed to go on for an eternity, and yet ended too soon.
He lifted his head, those golden eyes locked on hers. Her breathing rasped, her heartbeat hammered, the frantic pounding drowning out the distant hum of passing traffic, the keening cry of a bird of prey.
‘You taste good,’ he said, before nipping at her bottom lip.
‘So do you,’ she replied, mesmerised.
A drop of water splashed on her cheek and she jumped.
‘Damn,’ he cursed softly, brushing the rain off her cheekbone with his thumb. He held his palm up to the sky. ‘We better take this indoors. It’s about to rain.’ His eyes took on a feral gleam in the dark. ‘You want to come back to mine?’
She knew what he was asking, knew what would happen if she took him up on the bold invitation. And knew at every other time in her life before now she would have refused. But the rebellious instinct that had made her climb on his bike and made her hoot for joy as they crossed the bridge geysered up inside her again, like a volcano of need forced to be dormant for far too long. And the refusal got stuck somewhere around her solar plexus.
Tomorrow she would meet him at his agent’s office, give him the details of his inheritance and arrange his first contact with the Duca D’Alegria. Roots Registry would get their all-important commission, her promotion would be secure and she and Nick would never see each other again.
Nick Delisantro was not a tormented pirate captain about to forsake his wicked ways so he could declare his everlasting love. He was a flesh-and-blood man who was clearly exceptionally well adjusted to his wicked ways.
And she wasn’t a gullible fool despite the guilty pleasure she took in reading larger-than-life romantic fantasies. She knew what Nick Delisantro was offering was strictly a one-night deal.
But why shouldn’t she take that crazy leap into sexual fantasy and indulge in the heat of the moment, just for tonight?
She sucked in a calming breath. This was crazy thinking. Was she seriously considering racing headlong into bed with a man she barely knew?
Her breath gushed out and she heard herself say, ever so politely. ‘I’d love to, thank you.’
That would be a yes, then.
The fierce arousal in his gaze was anything but polite as he nodded back. ‘Great, let’s go.’