Читать книгу Mediterranean Tycoons - JACQUELINE BAIRD, Jacqueline Baird - Страница 62

LOOKING at Zac, towering over her Sally had the wild desire to laugh at her own audacity in threatening to eject him. But as the silence lengthened a desire of a different kind whipped any thought of laughter from her mind. She saw he was scrutinising her slender body with an intensity that made her feel as if he was stripping her naked.

Suddenly, tension thickened the air between them, and it became hard for Sally to breathe. She felt a ripple of heat run through her, and it had nothing to do with the heat of the day.

Zac seemed to fill the small studio with his presence, and however unwillingly she was being drawn towards him despite all her best efforts to deny the fact. His dark eyes lingered on the open lapels of her robe, and jerkily she pulled the belt tighter, remembering she actually was naked underneath…

Embarrassment and the hot flush of arousal combined to make a tide of pink stain her pale face.

He stared at her for a long moment, and she wished she had done something with her hair instead of leaving it to dry in a mess of curls—ridiculous, she knew, but he had that effect on her.

‘You would not cost the man his job. I know you are not that mean-spirited, Sally,’ he said with certainty. He was right, damn him. ‘As for throwing me out—you haven’t a chance. But you are welcome to try.’ And he walked towards her, throwing his arms wide. ‘This should be interesting,’ he prompted and grinned at her. Her heart missed a beat at the devilish charm of his expression. ‘Give it your best shot.’

He was looming over her like some great monolith, legs slightly splayed, arms outstretched. She knew he was laughing at her, but still she had an incredible urge to walk into his arms.

‘Very funny,’ she snapped, and looked away. She knew when she was beaten. But as she stepped to one side an imp of mischief made her smack his forearm with the bunch of roses she still held in her hand. As a tension reliever it worked…

‘That hurt!’ she heard him yelp, and this time she did laugh as she dashed to the kitchen to put the somewhat battered roses in water.

She took a vase from the cupboard where she kept her glass-wear, and, filling it with water, put the roses in one at a time. They were magnificent blooms—or had been, she amended, before they had met the strength of Zac’s arm. And suddenly she felt a little guilty as she placed the vase on the windowsill.

‘Truce?’ He came up behind her, and she turned. He was too close, his big body crowding her. She caught the elusive scent of his aftershave—or was it simply him?—and her pulse began to race. She had difficulty holding his gaze.

‘You have already drawn my blood.’ He held up his arm.

Sally looked down, and to her horror realised she had. His bronzed, hair-dusted forearm bore a small scratch, and she saw the thin line of blood and felt even guiltier. ‘I’m so sorry—let me put a plaster—’

‘Not necessary.’ He cut her off. ‘But in recompense the least you can do is let me feed you.’

Warily, she looked up into his darkly attractive face. She didn’t trust him, and worse she did not trust herself around him.

‘I do mean only to feed you.’

He seemed to possess the ability to read her mind. ‘Okay,’ she finally said—mainly because she was thoroughly ashamed of herself. She wasn’t by nature a violent person, but Zac Delucca brought out a host of violent sensations in her she had never realised she possessed. And, given that she had ripped his arm open with the roses he had bought her, it seemed the least she could do…

‘Good.’ And, reaching into the cupboard she had left open, he withdrew two glasses. ‘I will deal with the wine and let you get the cutlery we need. Everything else is provided.’

‘Fine. Do you want to eat here?’ she asked, glancing at the fold-down table and two stools against one wall of the kitchen, where she usually ate, and then back to Zac. She grimaced. If he stretched his arms out again he could reach from wall to wall.

‘It is a bit cramped, but it is either here or the living room.’

‘The living room,’ he decided, and, swinging on his heels, walked out of the kitchen.

Sally opened a drawer and withdrew knives, forks and spoons, wondering what she had let herself in for. She had let her guilt at lashing out at Zac override her common sense and agreed to him staying. Now she was not so sure. He disturbed her on so many levels. He had barged his way into her home uninvited, and yet the memory of the steamy kiss they had shared in the car still lingered. And if she was honest she would not mind repeating the experience. Anyway, what harm could it do to share a meal with him?

An hour later, licking her lips after finishing off dessert—a perfect Tiramisu—Sally was confident there had been no harm at all…

Actually, it had been a great meal. When she’d exited the kitchen with the plates and cutlery, Zac had already filled the occasional table with an assortment of dishes: delicious pasta, fresh crusty bread and Veal Milanese, as well as salad and the dessert.

He had got the food from his favourite Italian restaurant, owned by a friend of his, he’d told her, and had made her laugh with stories of the proprietor and his family. Then he’d opened a bottle of wine and filled her glass and his, and made a toast to friendship.

Zac had been charming—a perfect gentleman. He had taken care not to so much as touch her, and there was still a foot of space between them on the sofa. Nothing like the arrogant man she had met last Friday, who had hardly kept his hands off her.

In fact, apart from Al, she could not remember ever feeling so relaxed in a man’s company. But then maybe seeing her with no make-up, wet hair and wearing a tired old robe had dampened Zac’s ardour, she thought with a wry grin, and told herself she was glad. But a little voice in her head whispered that it would be nice to feel his arms around her once more…

‘That was wonderful,’ she said, casting a sidelong glance at Zac. He was lounging back on the sofa beside her, his long legs stretched out before him, a glass of wine in his hand. His big body was at ease, and she had the fanciful notion that he looked like some great half-slumbering jungle predator.

‘An apple and a stale cheese sandwich are no substitute for a good meal,’ she went on, telling herself she was being ridiculous, fantasising about Zac. Picking up her glass of wine, she drained it and replaced it on the table. She raised a hand to her mouth as a yawn overtook her. Too much wine and not enough sleep, she thought, and murmured a polite, ‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure,’ he drawled, turning towards her, a smile curving his hard mouth. His dark eyes met hers and she smiled lazily back, feeling strangely comfortable with Zac. Then his gaze dropped to where the soft blue fabric of her robe hugged the firm mounds of her breasts, unexpectedly making her shiver with sensual awareness.

Sally flushed and looked away. Suddenly, from being relaxed and sleepy she was wide-awake, and the sexual tension that had simmered between them when he arrived was back in full force. Her heart thudded a little faster and she had to swallow hard before she could find her voice.

‘Now I think you’d better leave. I am rather tired,’ she said defensively, shocked at how quickly he could arouse her with just a look.

‘So thank me properly and I will,’ Zac prompted softly, placing his glass on the table. He studied her pale beautiful face. Sally had actually yawned—not the effect he usually had on women. Though he noted the violet shadows under her eyes had deepened. Too much fun over the weekend…

Yet this exquisite creature had been driving him mad all evening. He had tried looking across the room, but the convenience of the bed, with its pristine white covers, had simply increased his frustration. He had thought she looked gorgeous elegantly dressed. But now, lounging on the sofa, with no make-up and wearing only a long blue bathrobe that exactly matched her eyes, with the silken mass of her glorious hair falling around her shoulders, she looked sensational.

After the first glass of wine she had unbent a little, and by the second she’d started eating and obviously enjoying the food. But had she been aware that every time she’d reached for a dish the lapels of her robe had gaped open, revealing her perfect breasts down to the dusky pink areolae? Or that when she licked her full lips she almost gave him a coronary? By accident or design he was not sure, and that yawn could have been fake…He didn’t care. His patience was running out.

‘A freely given kiss will be enough,’ he prompted huskily, and raised his hand to the side of her elegant neck, felt the pulse beating furiously in her throat, and was encouraged to let his fingers slide through the heavy fall of her silken curls—something he had been itching to do since she answered the door to him, looking gorgeous, with damp tousled hair and ready for bed…

‘Fine—as long as you realise that is all it will be, Zac.’ Her voice was soft, and she met his dark eyes cautiously.

‘Of course. I would not do anything you did not want me to,’ he assured her, and hoped this time it would be fine. He had noticed she had the habit of using the word when the opposite was true.

Edging closer, her slender thigh touching his, she moved to press her soft lips against his cheek.

‘You call that a kiss?’ He growled his frustration just as she was about to draw back, and placing one hand behind her head, looped the other arm around her waist and tugged her against him. She gave him a startled glance and tried to shake her head, but he held her firm and kissed her with all the pent-up passion that had been riding him ever since he had set eyes on her.

She responded as he had known she would, her arms reaching up to clasp his shoulders. He deepened the kiss, the taste, the heat, the scent of her enflaming all his senses. He slid a hand inside the lapels of her robe and around her back to press her closer. Her skin felt like the softest silk, and he felt her tremble in his arms.

She groaned when he broke the kiss, her fabulous blue eyes unconsciously pleading for more as they met his. ‘Trust me, Sally,’ he murmured. ‘It gets better.’ And he turned her slender body so she was lying across his thighs, his hand moving from her back to caress one luscious breast, his thumb and finger rolling and plucking the perfect rosebud peak. She watched him with wide, almost innocent eyes, and squirmed in his arms.

‘You like that?’ he murmured, and delivered the same treatment to her other breast, parting her robe still further. ‘Let me look at you, Sally,’ he demanded huskily. ‘All of you.’ She was perfection, and he ached to see her completely naked.

Sally did not know what had hit her. All she knew was that the sensations swirling around inside her were new and wonderful, and the man staring down at her was responsible. His husky-toned request vibrated deep in her body, and she could feel herself becoming damp with desire. She had never been naked in front of a man before, but suddenly she’d lost all her inhibitions.

Later she would blame it on the wine and exhaustion, but at this moment she had never felt more vibrantly alive in her life.

‘Yes…’ she breathed, and he untied the belt at her waist and pushed the robe off her slender shoulders.

In a dreamlike trance her eyes settled on his ruggedly attractive face and she saw the dark stain spread across his high cheekbones, the gold flame of desire in his night-black eyes, as he studied her naked body with an intensity that made the blood race faster though her veins. His strong hand slowly caressed her throat, her breasts, followed the indentation of her waist, traced the curve of her hip and moved over her flat belly.

‘You are perfect…more beautiful than I ever imagined,’ he rasped.

Flattered, but aching with a need she had never felt before, Sally moved her hand from his shoulder to slip it beneath the open neck of his shirt, her fingers tracing the curling black hair shadowing his chest that had tempted her when he’d walked in the door earlier. She felt the fast pounding of his heart beneath her palm and gloried in the knowledge that she could do this to him.

‘Oh, yes…’ he groaned when she touched him.

His dark head bent and her lips parted in eager anticipation, but his head had dropped lower, and suddenly his mouth closed over one pert nipple, teeth biting gently, then lips suckling hard, as his long fingers tangled in the soft curls at the juncture of her thighs.

Sensation upon sensation sent shock waves crashing through her body, igniting a blazing heat that drove her wild, and she responded with an untutored intensity that would shock her when she recalled it later. She grasped his shirt and pulled it apart, unaware of the buttons flying off, and let her hands roam freely over his magnificent bronzed chest, glorying in the feel of his firm flesh, her fingers luxuriating in the soft mat of body hair, her nails finding and scraping over his small, pebble-like masculine nipples.

Zac growled deep in his throat, and, pulling back, he swept her up in his arms and navigated the few stairs to the bedroom area. His great body tense, he flicked the robe right off her body and laid her down on the bed.

Breathless and dizzy with an excitement she had never experienced before, Sally watched him with desire-glazed eyes. He kicked off his shoes, removed his shirt and stepped out of his pants, his dark eyes never leaving her naked body.

Sally could only gaze in awe at his magnificent golden-toned physique.

He was unashamedly and blatantly masculine, with wide shoulders and a broad, muscular chest. The body hair that so fascinated her fanned out over his masculine nipples and arrowed down over a hard flat stomach. A shocked gasp escaped her as he shed his silk boxers and she realised he was massively erect. A tide of red swept up her cheeks and she dropped her eyes, but his powerful muscled thighs and long legs did nothing to stop the blush, and for a second she was afraid.

She had a brief moment of clarity, and could not believe what she had allowed to happen. But as if sensing her reaction, Zac leant forward and placed a hand either side of her, his body not touching hers. Gently he brushed his lips across her forehead, the soft curve of her cheek, and finally closed them over her mouth, stifling any protest she might have made. And the moment was gone, lost in the magic of his kiss.

He raised his head, his smouldering black eyes sweeping over her slender frame in avid fascination. Then, as if she were a sculpture, his hands began to shape her body, his long fingers discovering every curve and crevasse, teasing her flesh in a way that made her insides shake. She stretched and turned at his bidding, and for the first time in her life she abandoned every restraint she had put on herself for years and gloried in her womanhood.

He cupped her breasts, squeezing them together and nipping the rigid tips between his long fingers. A helpless moan escaped her. She was totally overwhelmed by the power of what she was feeling, delirious with the pleasure he gave.

‘You really like that?’ He grinned.

Sally nodded her head, incapable of speech, and grasped his arm, urging him to join her on the bed. He stretched out beside her, one hand resting on her quivering stomach, the other smoothing a few silken strands of hair back from her face.

His hand curved around her waist and urged her closer to his side. The heat and the musky male scent of him tantalised her nostrils, and she felt the hard length of his arousal pressing against her thigh. Amazingly she wasn’t afraid, but excited beyond reason. All she could think was that this magnificent man wanted her, and her head whirled as sensation after sensation arrowed through her body.

‘Tell me what else you like, Sally,’ he rasped huskily.

His hands were everywhere, and she looked at him, her whole body a quivering mass of feelings. ‘You,’ she said mindlessly, her brain turned to mush by sex.

His surveyed her with those smouldering eyes, one hand stroking over the flat plain of her stomach to settle at the juncture of her thighs and ease her legs apart, before his head dropped and his mouth covered a rigid nipple, suckling and tantalising yet again, until she didn’t think she could bear it. Then Zac lifted his head, and his hard mouth covered her swollen lips.

Her slender arms dropped to curve around his broad back, her hands sliding down to stroke his hard buttocks before tracing up the line of his spine to curve around his broad shoulders, and finally reaching up to tangle in the thick black hair of his head.

She closed her eyes, shuddering in ecstasy at the feel of his hair-roughened chest against her acutely sensitised breasts. His tongue flicked evocatively around the outline of her lips and then thrust into her mouth as he kissed her with a hard, possessive passion, and her own tongue swirled round his in wild response.

His long fingers threaded thought the red curls at the apex of her thighs to find the velvet lips that guarded the hot, moist centre of her femininity, stroking over the tiny pleasure-point concealed there with unerring accuracy. She moaned and writhed beneath him, aching for more, her nails sinking into his flesh.

His mouth covered the pulse-point that beat frantically in her neck, and she turned her head to allow him easier access.

‘You want this…’ he growled against her throat.

She opened her eyes, and was just turning her head back to agree, white-hot and wanting, when she caught a glimpse of their naked bodies, erotically entwined, in the mirrored doors of the wardrobe…

To Sally it was like a douche of ice water on her overheated body, and she froze.

‘No. Oh, no!’ she cried, and shoved hard at Zac’s shoulders, catching him by surprise.

He reared back.

‘No?’ he grated, and she caught the look of shock on his darkly flushed face—or was it pain?

She didn’t wait to decide, and scrambled off the bed, picking up her robe. With legs that trembled she stumbled down to the living area, pulling it on. She fastened the belt around her waist so tight it hurt, her heart pounding like a sledgehammer in her chest.

The image in the mirror of naked lovers was indelibly printed on her mind. No, not lovers. A couple indulging in sex, she amended. She had barely recognised herself, wantonly splayed beneath Zac’s great body. But she had been instantly reminded of where she was: her dad’s old love-nest.

She was not like her dad and never would be, she vowed.

The first day she had moved in she had removed the mirror that had hung above the bed, but the mirrored wardrobe doors had been a timely reminder. How many young women had her dad seduced in the exact same place? But she wasn’t about to make the same mistake with Zac Delucca…

Oh, no! In her panic she had forgotten about him for a moment, but not any more. Her body ached with the unfamiliar feeling of sexual frustration. What on earth was she going to say to him?

Painfully aroused and burning up with rage, Zac lay on his stomach and counted to a hundred—a technique he had learned in the ring. A fighter who let his anger get the better of him and lost control rarely won. That was the first piece of advice Marco, his manager at the time, had ever given him. And he knew if he lost control with his redheaded temptress he was liable to shake her until she rattled.

She had said no. Sally had actually said no. He was aware it was a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, and he appreciated that, but he had never had a woman say no to him in bed before.

The little witch had been with him all the way. He could still feel the sting of her nails on his back. She had led him right to the edge and then slammed on the brakes. Pride and other darker emotions had him clenching his fists. No one got away with playing games with him. He rolled off the bed and pulled on his clothes, then descended the few steps to the living area, where the object of his fury and frustration stood, head bowed.

The footsteps on the wooden floor alerted Sally, and slowly she turned round. He was dressed—well, almost; his shirt was open to where he had tucked it in his jeans, the buttons gone. A guilty tide of red swept over her face as the memory of pulling his shirt apart flashed in her mind.

‘Have you any reasonable explanation?’ he asked scathingly, and, not waiting for a reply, continued, ‘Or is it a habit of yours to encourage a man, tell him you want him, rip off his shirt, strip naked and get into bed with him before running from the room?’ he demanded with biting sarcasm.

She raised her head. Not a muscle flickered in the hard bronzed mask of his face, but his dark eyes blazed with a violent anger. She took a step back, suddenly afraid, very afraid, as it hit her just exactly what she had done…

‘No…’ she murmured. The air was heavy with tension, as was the man watching her she realised, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

‘You have a right to look afraid,’ he snarled, and stepped towards her, his tall body looming over her. He grasped her chin and tilted her head back. ‘Some women like to tease, but you take it too far. Consider yourself lucky it was me you tried your trick on. The next man might not have my control, and then you will get a hell of a lot more than you bargained for.’

A tremor slithered down her spine, and he noticed.

‘You were not immune. You were with me all the way. Even now you tremble.’

Catching her hand, he forced it down to his thighs. She was shocked to find he was still aroused, and to her shame involuntarily her fingers flexed on his erection.

‘Not too late to change your mind—after all, it is a woman’s prerogative,’ he drawled derisively.

‘No…No!’ she cried, snatching her hand free and stepping back, her face a fiery-red. She wondered how she could have been so stupid. Such a push-over.

‘One no is enough. I get the message.’

‘Fine,’ she said, and her casual response, the use of the damn word fine enraged him further. For a timeless second Zac let the mask slip, and if looks could kill, she would have breathed her last by now.

Sally knew she wasn’t blameless, and he had some justification for being furious, but with exhaustion overtaking her all she wanted to do was get rid of him and forget tonight had ever happened.

Maybe she did owe him an apology. Years ago her mum had told her the best way to defuse an argument was to say sorry. Whether you thought you were right or not did not matter, because it was very hard to continue arguing with someone who was saying sorry.

Well, Zac was bristling with anger. It was worth a try. Bravely she looked up into his hard face. ‘I’m sorry for how I behaved, and I apologise if you feel you have been cheated,’ she offered. ‘But may I point out I did not invite you here? I told you I was tired, and I asked you to go, but you talked your way round me.’ She made a futile gesture with her hands. ‘You are like a tank, rolling over any sign of opposition. You are too much for me, and I want you to leave now.’

‘My size intimidates you?’ Zac demanded.

‘No,’ Sally snapped. She had told him a bit of the truth, and his continuing presence in her apartment was frustrating, so she told him the rest.

‘You are just too much everything—too wealthy, too arrogant and too stubborn to leave when asked. And I don’t like you. Apart from anything else you bought Westwold, which makes you an arms dealer, which to me is a despicable business.’

‘That is rich, coming from you.’ His tone was bitingly cynical. ‘Daddy’s little golden girl, who has never done a day’s work in her life. The arms business has supported you very nicely—it paid for this apartment your father gave you, for starters. Perhaps I should have arrived with a jewellery box instead of a cool box. No doubt the outcome would have been different.’

The insult enraged Sally. It was bad enough that her father had told Zac he had given her the apartment, and she could not deny it, but he obviously had not told Zac she worked—hence his summing up of her character as an idle little rich girl. Knowing her dad, it had probably stroked his ego to come across as the generous father.