Читать книгу Purchased for Passion: Shackled by Diamonds / A Mistress for the Taking / His Bought Mistress - Julia James, Annie West - Страница 11

LEO slewed the Jeep to a halt in front of the villa in the golden light of the westering sun. His muscles ached, but at least his black mood had gone. He’d spent the day on the island’s eastern coast, punishing it out of him by wave-sailing the rough Atlantic swell. He’d thought of doing what he’d done yesterday—inspecting his property developments taking shape on the southern shores—but everything was going to schedule and there was nothing more there to occupy him. Besides, he hadn’t come here to work. He’d come here to relax.

Unwind.

Enjoy some well-earned R&R with a beautiful woman to warm his bed…

His face darkened momentarily as he tossed the Jeep’s keys at one of the outdoor staff and headed indoors. All day he’d deliberately kept Anna Delane out of his head. He didn’t want to think about her.

Now he wondered idly how she’d spent the day. Still sulking?

A smile twisted at his mouth as he sprinted lithely upstairs.

She wouldn’t be sulking for long. He’d make sure of it.

There was no way a thieving piece like Anna Delane was going to get the better of him. His smile deepened.

He would start again on her, right now.

He’d just thought of an excellent way to do so.

A massage, personally administered, was exactly what he wanted.

And after the massage…

Anna lay in Leo Makarios’s arms. She was facing away from him, drawn back against his body by his heavy, restraining arm. His thigh was heavy across hers.

She stared out across the room.

It had happened again.

The fire had burnt through her, burnt away every last vestige of her self-control, her self-respect.

A massage. She had been summoned to give him a massage.

Like a slave girl!

She’d done it, too. Because what would have been the point of objecting? She’d been brought here for this purpose—the price of keeping her out of jail, keeping Jenny safe. And if a massage was what the man who thought her a thief wanted, then a massage was what he would have.

And what came after.

It had taken very, very little time for her kneading hands to be caught, stilled. For him to turn over with lithe, muscled grace onto his back, for him to draw her down on him again and then, with sudden avid hunger, to tip her over until he was over her. His mouth had been on hers, his hands on her body, peeling the clothes from her as if he were peeling a ripe, luscious fruit for his delectation.

And she had let him. Once more she had let him. Helpless to resist, helpless to do anything except let her body ignite from his, catch the hunger of his kisses, the ardency of his caressing.

Until she had burned with him in the same hot, fierce flame, crying out, her hair whipping, consumed absolutely by the sensation obliterating all sense from her, obliterating everything but its own desperate, urgent need for satiation.

Then afterwards, as the tumult had died, draining away like an inferno that had consumed its own fuel, he had lifted himself from her, rolling to his side, drawing her back against him, smoothing her hair, murmuring to her words she did not understand, his breath warm on her neck, his hands warm on her body.

And now she lay there, her body’s conflagration slowly ebbing to its last cooling embers, exhausted, sated, feeling his chest rise and fall heavily behind her spine, knowing her lungs too were replenishing their air, her heart gradually slowing.

She lay staring out into the dusky room, hearing only the susurration of his breathing, only the low hum of the airconditioning.

Her mind seemed suspended, incapable of operation. She couldn’t think, or feel, or make any conscious use of words or thoughts.

She seemed to be somewhere else.

Someone else.

And there was nothing, nothing she could do.

Leo lay, Anna enfolded in his arms. His body was warm, inert. So was hers. They were incapable of movement, both of them, he knew. The exhaustion that followed the little death had overtaken them both.

It felt good to hold her like this, spooned back against him.

It was as if she belonged to him.

His mind shifted. Where had that thought come from?

He did not want Anna Delane to belong to him. What would he want that for? She was a thief. A beautiful, desirable thief. But a thief for all that.

He did not want to get involved with her.

But then, he never wanted to get involved with any of the women he slept with. They kept to their own lives and he to his. He felt no desire for more.

Good sex was all he asked for, and a woman who knew not to make a nuisance of herself.

Let alone think she could steal a fortune from him with impunity.

Like the woman in his arms now.

He smoothed the hair back from her face a moment. Her eyes were open, but looking blankly ahead of her. He found himself wondering what she was thinking. What went on in her head?

He frowned. He never cared what went on in a woman’s head. It was of no interest to him.

Was any other person of any interest to him? he found himself thinking.

His father had died of a heart attack seven years ago, and his mother had moved to Melbourne to be with relatives. But he’d never been close to either of his parents. He’d seen little of his father while he was growing up, because his father, like his grandfather, had devoted his life to making the Makarios fortune. His mother had played her part by being a society hostess, assiduously cultivating anyone and everyone who could be useful to Makarios Corp. Which meant that her son had been handed over to nannies and teachers.

Possibly the closest person to him was Markos, with whom he’d shared some of his schooling, but now, as adults, they met up only sporadically. Both led the highly peripatetic lives of the very rich, each running their own separate portions of the vast Makarios corporation which inevitably took them in different physical directions much of the time.

He had an extensive staff, of course, ranging from key executives to a team of personal assistants. And he had friends. Of course he had friends. Every man in his position had friends. Usually far too damn many.

But were any of them close to him?

Was he interested in any of them other than for what use they were to Makarios Corp? None sprang to mind.

Impatiently, he put the thoughts from him. His life was good—very good. Makarios Corp was riding high, he was riding high. He was in the prime of life, fit and healthy, and he knew without false modesty that he’d been blessed with a physical appearance that would be enviable even in a poor man. Combine that with his riches and he was a man other men envied and women wanted.

Anna Delane didn’t…

The words stole into his head before he could stop them.

Anna Delane didn’t want you—she threw you from her bedroom. Screeched her head off at you. Rejected you royally!

Deliberately he made himself stroke her arm, slowly, possessively. She wasn’t rejecting him now—but the choice had been between him or jail…no wonder she hadn’t rejected him! he thought bitterly.

Leo’s jaw tightened.

Anna Delane would not have gone on rejecting him. He’d have seen to that. If he hadn’t caught her red-handed with the Levantsky bracelet he’d still have pursued her. Whatever hypocritical reason she’d had for rejecting him that evening, he’d have got her in the end. Women didn’t hold out on him. His usual problem was quite the opposite—fending them off. No, he’d have got Anna Delane in his bed. Thief or no.

It was a pity she was a thief…

Again, the words stole into his brain before he could stop them. They annoyed him. Obviously he’d have preferred her not to be a thief—after all, she’d come far too damn close to walking off with the Levantsky bracelet!—but that was the only reason for his preference. It would have made no other difference. The end result would have been the same. Her in his bed, a few weeks together, and then he’d tire of her.

His hand moved slowly up her arm again, enjoying her soft, silken skin.

He felt his body begin to stir.

No chance of tiring of her yet.

He shifted his weight onto his elbow, and cupped her chin, turning her head towards him. His mouth lowered to hers.

It felt good. Arousing.

Yes, definitely no chance of tiring of her yet.

Carefully, Anna smoothed total sunblock over her legs. Even though she spent as much time as she could in the shade, and put sunblock on religiously, she still seemed to be browning. She frowned. It was a damned nuisance. Her white skin was one of her selling points, and she guarded it assiduously. OK, so she could have stayed indoors every day, but she couldn’t bear to. It was bad enough just getting through the days, without being denied the run of the gardens and the beach. Or the pool.

Thank God for the pool. Swimming up and down occupied hours of her time, and a swimsuit was something she never travelled without. Although she had enough evening outfits—brought for her time at the Schloss—daywear suitable for the Caribbean climate was more of a problem. By dint of washing her exercise outfit daily, and wearing the jade-green silk trouser suit during the day, she was just managing to cope. She could also, during the day, wander round with just a towel wrapped round her like a sarong. That was because—and she thanked all the gods there were—Leo Makarios was never around in the daytime.

Maybe he sleeps in his earth-filled coffin in daytime? she thought acidly.

The reality, she knew, was more prosaic. He took himself off on the water. He seemed, thankfully, to have a whole range of ways of enjoying himself out at sea. Sometimes she saw him on a windsurf board, racing across the bay in a crosswind; sometimes—according to her cautious enquires of the house staff—he went to the Atlantic coast for stronger winds and wave-sailing and kite-surfing. Often he disappeared off in a variety of sailing craft. He seemed to have a whole collection in a boathouse further along the beach. She saw him skimming along in a one-handed dinghy, or on windier days taking a catamaran out, spinnaker billowing. He went off diving, too, some days, and she watched the staff lug oxygen tanks on board the inflatable dive boat, then him heading out to the reefs.

Whatever took him out to sea, she was just grateful.

It gave her precious respite time—without which, she knew, she would have cracked.

How many days had passed since she’d been brought here? She was losing count. It was coming up to two weeks, it must be. Or was it longer? She had tried not to count, tried not to think. The moon was changing, at its peak now, sailing serene and high far above the ocean, mocking her with its romantic beauty.

But then the whole place mocked her.

It could have been a paradise on earth. Instead it was her prison. Her place of torment.

A place where Leo Makarios tormented her to the utmost of his malign powers.

Night after night she burnt like a flame in his arms as he wrung from her the response he would not let her rest without.

The response she could not let herself rest without.

He had become a poison for her. A poison that had got into her bloodstream and which she was now utterly, completely dependent on.

And the poison was desire.

Abject, helpless desire.

It mortified her, humiliated her, lacerated her.

But it held her in its thrall.

And she knew she could not free herself from it now—she had succumbed to it abjectly, helplessly. Succumbed to Leo Makarios and what he could make her feel.

Every day when he came back to the villa her heart gave a leap. She tried to crush it, but it would not be crushed. She felt her breath quicken in her lungs, felt a rush of pleasure. Of anticipation.

Sometimes he took her to his bed immediately. Walking up to her, catching her hand, and taking her upstairs. She would feel her body quickening even as she went with him, feel the warm, delicious flood of arousal start in her body. She was as ardent as he; she could not help it. She wanted to feel his mouth on hers, his hands on her body, her hands on his, their bodies seeking, melding, fusing together in a rush of desire so intense it consumed her, time, after time, after time.

It had been a revelation—never had she understood how raw, how powerful, desire could be. Leo Makarios had taken her to a new place, one she had not known existed.

It was a place of passion, of ecstasy, of wanting and needing, of sating and slaking.

She knew no peace. Not during the day, when her restless body waited in forced patience for his return. Not when he was there either, and she went to him and let him take her in that white rush of desire as she took him into her. No peace then, only hunger, a driving, pulsing hunger that was a desperate, ravening need for what he and he alone could give her.

She knew only the brief, strange peace that came after, when their bodies were spent and they lay, exhausted, in each other’s arms.

As if they were lovers.

But they weren’t lovers. She knew that. Knew it deep in her being. There was nothing between them. Neither knowledge nor intimacy.

They were strangers. Day after day. Night after night.

Nothing but strangers.

A dull, crushing heaviness filled her as she sat, now, putting cream on her legs, before plunging into the warm waters of the pool. She looked around. There was a house full of staff tending the villa and its grounds—other human beings who lived and breathed and had hopes and ambitions and families and friends and loved ones—and yet she was all on her own.

You’re always on your own. You always have been.

The thought distilled in her mind. It was true. It had always been true. Her grandmother loved her dearly, had brought her up single-handed after her mother’s death, with her father long since disappeared into whatever wasteland involuntary fathers disappeared to. But her grandmother, for all her love, all her protection, was two generations away from her—happy with her little world in the street of terraced houses beside the gasworks, happy to spend the day watching soaps and chat shows, and scared to let Anna go out into the world. Let alone take up modelling.

Her grandmother hated it; she’d always known that. Warning her about the evils of the life she was heading for. But she could not have turned down her one big chance to get away from the gasworks and the beckoning biscuit factory. She’d always visited her grandmother as often as she could, and the years had passed, and she’d become too infirm in body and mind to go on living in her little terraced house. Now she passed her time in an expensive private nursing home, paid for by her granddaughter’s modelling fees, sometimes recognising her when she visited, sometimes not.

Who will I have when my grandmother dies? Who will I have then?

The question echoed in her head as she stared out over the azure sea beyond.

She had some friends—good friends like Jenny, with whom she’d bonded in the frenetic, superficial, all too often corrupt and corrupting world of fashion modelling, and a few others that she trusted. But, valuable as her friends were, they each had someone special in their lives. Even Jenny had the child she would bear, in secrecy and safety, in her new life that she would make for herself in Australia.

I could go with her.

The thought came from nowhere.

And even as it formed a terrible heaviness came in its wake.

When Leo Makarios is finished with me—what shall I do?

She had thought she would simply go back to her life. Had thought nothing else.

But now, with punishing clarity, she knew it was impossible, that her life was empty.

She could never go back.

Her life as a model seemed a million miles away from here. On another planet.

She could never go back to it.

And the terrible heaviness crushed at her. She would have to leave here. One day, coming closer day by day, when Leo was bored with her, when he’d decided she’d made reparation enough, when some business crisis cropped up, needing his attention in New York, or Geneva, or London, then he would simply go.

And she would be bundled onto a plane and disposed of.

She would never see him again.

Never.

The word clanged in her head like a stone.

A bitter mockery filled her. Dear God. Once, brief days ago, if someone had said she would never see Leo Makarios again she’d have felt a relief so profound it would have lifted her off the ground.

Now—now it tolled like a funeral bell. Filling her with dread.

And there was an ache in her body that she could not extinguish.

An anguish.

An anguish that filled her being.

She stared out over the silver sand, the azure waters. Paradise on earth.

But, for her, the worst place in the world.

A place of unimaginable, exquisite torment.

Leo limped, bad tempered, out onto the terrace, and looked down across to the pool deck. Anna was swimming up and down with her graceful stroke. He watched her a while. It was strange seeing her during the daytime. Deliberately, he never let himself think about her when he was away from the villa. He just put her out of his mind, focusing instead on things like making a fast tack in the cat, or doing some tricky freestyle move on his board. He glowered. The damn loop he’d been working on yesterday had caught him out—and down he’d gone into the water, foot still caught in the footstrap. The result was a badly wrenched ankle. At least it wasn’t a break or a sprain—the doctor had confirmed it just now. But he’d also stipulated resting his foot. No more watersports for a few days.

So what the hell was he going to do all day now? He’d deliberately kept his work to a minimum—an hour morning and evening, communicating remotely with his direct reports and a handful of key people, was all he allowed himself. He didn’t want to get sucked back in.

He stood, watching Anna swim up and down. Well, he could swim too—just about. Moodily, he headed down, tossing his dark glasses on a chair. He limped to the deep end and dived in.

He powered down the length, making his turn with one foot only, pushing off, and powering down to the deep end. Over and over—ten, twenty, thirty, forty lengths. Working off something he needed to work off.

As he finally touched the wall at the end of his fortieth length and stood up, shaking the water from his hair, he saw Anna was still in the pool, doggedly breaststroking up and down her side, taking no notice of him as usual.

A familiar stab of irritation went through Leo. The damn girl totally ignored his existence whenever she could. She answered him tersely, her reluctance visible, whenever he tried to talk to her. He’d got to the point where he damned her as much as she was clearly damming him. Hell, he hadn’t brought her here for conversation, but for sex—and that she definitely didn’t stint him.

Leo stood in the water, leaning back against the stone surround, crooked arms resting on the tiles around the pool. He felt his mood improve. No, Anna Delane certainly didn’t stint him on the sex front.

In bed now she definitely, definitely purred.

A slow smile parted his lips. He’d achieved what he’d intended—to have Anna Delane panting for him, hungry for him. No more virtuous outrage when he dared to lay a caressing hand on her. No, now she trembled with her need for him the moment he touched her. He only had to look at her and see the desire flare in her eyes, the hunger…

A sense of satisfaction went through him. Anna Delane purred for him in bed—and now, since he could not go out on the sea, he would amuse himself getting her to purr for him out of bed. It would, he decided, be a personal challenge.

He’d take her shopping. The island had some upmarket designer outlets, and shopping always put women in a good mood. Especially when some man was picking up the tab.

Besides, a woman like Anna Delane was used to the fast life—sophisticated cities and endless parties. Being deprived of them was probably contributing to her sulkiness.

An idea came to him. He’d take her shopping today, and then tomorrow he’d start socialising with her. There was a whole bunch of people on the island—from useful local business and government contacts to wealthy European ex-pats, either living or wintering here—who would always welcome him as a guest. He’d put in a few calls—let people know he was here.

I’ll show Anna off to them…

The thought came from nowhere and stopped him in his tracks.

A frown creased his brow. Show Anna Delane off to his friends? Show off a thief? A woman who was earning her freedom from jail in his bed?

No, she wasn’t a woman to show off. She was a woman to keep secret, private. Hidden for his own pleasure.

As if he were ashamed of her…

Of himself…

Something stabbed through him. It did not feel comfortable.

Leo shook it away. He did not like to feel uncomfortable about himself.

With a rasp of irritation he levered himself out of the pool. His damaged ankle told him he’d probably swum too vigorously, so a day taking it easy was definitely a good idea. He limped to the other side of the pool and waited until Anna had finished her length.

To his annoyance, even though he was crouched down just where her length ended, clearly intending to speak to her, she still didn’t register his presence. She was all set to do a breaststroke turn. His hand shot out, closing around her forearm as she seized the end of the pool with both hands, ready to plunge round.

She stopped abruptly.

‘I haven’t finished my lengths,’ she told him coldly.

‘You’ve done enough,’ he told her. ‘Up you come.’

His hand closed over her other forearm. Pinioned, Anna glowered at him, then let him pull her out of the pool in a strong, lithe movement. She stood, water dripping off her, hair slicked back in a high ponytail.

‘Yes?’ she said, just as coldly.

‘Get dried and changed,’ he told her, limping across to where her towel was draped on another pool chair and helping himself to it. ‘We’re going out.’

‘What?’

He looked at her, dripping and stiff-bodied, as he patted his chest with her towel.

‘I said, we’re going out.’

‘I don’t want to go out,’ she riposted instantly.

Her attitude annoyed him—as it always did.

‘But I do,’ he replied. ‘And I want you to come with me.’

She just went on staring at him.

‘What for? ‘

‘Indulge me,’ he returned sardonically.

A slight flush of colour flared over her cheekbones. Then her face tightened.

‘I thought I only had to do that in bed!’ she snapped.

Something equivalent snapped in Leo. Hell, the girl was hard work. And right now he was in no mood to put up with it.

‘Thee mou, I simply want to go out for the day. What’s the big deal? Lighten up, Anna—you might even enjoy it. After all…’ his voice changed, and the sardonic note was back in it, taunting her ‘…you’ve come round to enjoying the rest of what I give you, haven’t you.’

This time the colour definitely flared out across her cheekbones. For a moment Leo mistook it for embarrassment. Then he realised it must just be temper. Well, Anna Delane could be as cussed as she liked—and, Christos, did she like!—but he wanted to go out, and he wanted her to come with him. And what he wanted, he got.

He always did.

He limped off, and Anna watched him go, glowering.

What the hell was going on? she fumed. She didn’t want to go anywhere with Leo Makarios. And why was he wanting to take her anywhere anyway? Why wasn’t he going off in one of his boats or whatever? She watched him head across the terrace. Was he limping? Yes, he was. Quite badly.

A sudden pang darted through her. For a moment—quite insanely—she wanted to go after him and express concern. Ask him what he’d done to his foot.

She crushed it down. Leo Makarios could go under a train for all she cared…

Liar…

Emotion twisted in her. She tried to crush that down too, but it would not be banished. Despairingly she shut her eyes.

I can’t face a day out with him—I just can’t!

It was taking all her strength to cope with the nights, to cope with the terrible, treacherous reaction of her body to his touch. She could cope only because she kept the night to the night, and at all other times either minimised her time in his company or shut him out as much as she could.

But now she was going to have to spend a whole day in his company.

Heaviness pressed on her.

She opened her eyes again. Leo had disappeared inside the house.

With a weariness of spirit she did not want to think about, she followed him.

Anna stared about her. Not only did it make it easier to ignore the man driving the four-by-four careering along the potted road, but it was interesting to see something more of the island than the Makarios villa—exquisite though that was.

From the air-conditioned interior the rolling landscape looked lush, covered in wild greenery. Little villages were dotted about, the West Indian chattel-style board houses surrounded by banana trees and their verandas over-tumbled with crimson bougainvillaea. Roadside stalls every now and then sold fresh fruit, both to islanders and to tourists stopping off in their hire cars to taste fresh pineapple and coconut.

She didn’t ask where they were going—what was the point? She would find out when they got there. But when they did, Anna was surprised. It was the capital of the island, and Leo made his way, weaving along a grid of streets, to end up by the harbour. He parked the car and nodded at Anna.

‘Time to go shopping,’ he announced.

He waited for her expression to brighten at the treat ahead, but she simply kept the same blank expression on her face that she always kept for him. Pressing his mouth tightly, he got out, and waited while she did likewise.

The mid-morning heat hit her, and she instantly felt the inappropriateness of the tight-fitting stretch clothes she was wearing. Had he really said shopping? Well, thank heavens for that, at least. At last she could buy some beachwear.

So it was with more enthusiasm than Leo usually saw in her outside the bedroom that she followed him into the smartestlooking tax-free designer wear shop. Swiftly and methodically she sifted along the rails and took her selection to the cash desk.

Leo was there before her.

‘So at last you’ve seen sense enough to wear something suitable for the beach,’ he said pointedly, indicating her armful of brightly coloured clothes.

She stared at him tightly.

‘Strangely,’ she informed him acidly, ‘I wasn’t planning a trip to the Caribbean when I packed for Austria. Of course I didn’t have any suitable daywear for the beach!’

Leo frowned. ‘You mean you’ve been wearing those idiotic outfits because it was all you had? Good grief, why didn’t you just tell me? I could have taken you shopping the day you arrived!’ He spoke as if she were stupid.

Anna said nothing, merely smiled at the saleslady and let her start folding her clothes.

‘You don’t want to try any on?’ asked Leo sceptically.

She cast him a look. ‘I can tell they’ll fit, and I can tell they’ll suit me. It’s one of the little skills you pick up in my line of work.’

‘There is no call for sarcasm,’ Leo replied repressively. ‘When I take women shopping they usually spend hours trying on everything in sight. It’s a dead bore. Your attitude is refreshing, believe me.’

He started reaching inside his back trouser pocket for his wallet. But Anna was already handing her credit card over.

‘Anna,’ he said, even more repressively, ‘allow me, if you please.’

‘I don’t please,’ she said, and nodded at the saleslady to take her card.

Leo sighed heavily. ‘Are you trying to prove something, Anna?’

‘No. I’m just buying my own clothes.’

With a snap, Leo put his wallet away. Let the damn girl buy her own clothes if she insisted. He watched her sign for her purchases, pick up the bags, and then hesitate suddenly.

‘I’d like to change,’ she said to the shop assistant, and disappeared with the bags.

She emerged in under two minutes, clad in a brightly coloured blue and orange sundress that floated around her calves.

Leo found his breath stilling. She really was the most stunning female he’d laid eyes on. Effortlessly so. Her hair was still in its high ponytail, and she’d let it dry naturally, without any styling. She wore no make-up except suncream and protective lipgloss. And sunshades. Not a scrap of jewellery either.

And yet in that simple print dress she looked breathtaking.

Something moved inside him. It was an odd sensation. He didn’t know what it was.

He only knew it was inappropriate.

‘Let’s go,’ he said shortly, and headed outdoors.

Anna followed him, feeling the relief of finally wearing something that didn’t look idiotic in these tropical surroundings.

‘There’s another designer shop over there.’ Leo pointed across the way and started towards it.

‘I’ve got all the clothes I need,’ Anna returned.

Leo gave a snort. ‘No woman has all the clothes she needs! And this time—’ he turned his head ‘—I am buying. Please do not make another scene.’

Anna’s lips tightened.

‘I really don’t want any more clothes,’ she insisted.

‘Then what do you want?’ He glanced around, eyes lighting on a jewellery store. For a moment he realised he was on the point of buying her jewels, as if she were an ordinary mistress.

Anna couldn’t help but see where he’d been looking.

‘No, thank you,’ she said sweetly. ‘I prefer to steal mine.’

Leo’s head whipped round, eyes narrowed.

His eyes fastened on hers.

And for a second—quite inexplicably—he suddenly wanted to laugh. The girl was outrageous, all right! Totally outrageous—and yet…

He broke eye contact deliberately, pointing out a souvenir shop selling island art and mementoes.

Anna shook her head sharply.

‘I’ll have all the souvenirs of this place I could never want,’ she said.

Leo’s eyes slashed back to hers. This time he didn’t want to laugh at all. He wanted to throttle her.

‘Well, your souvenirs from an Austrian jail would be very different, I can assure you!’ he shot back tightly. He took her arm. ‘I need some coffee,’ he announced.

She tried to pull away from him, but he would not let her.

‘Let go of me!’ she snarled.

He merely tightened his grip, and looked down at her with his long-lashed eyes.

‘That’s not what you say in bed, Anna mou. You want me to touch you then.’

His voice was soft, as soft as silk, his eyes molten, melting her…

Once again he saw colour flare out along her cheekbones, and that look in her eyes. Of all things, it looked as if it was embarrassment. But that was impossible. Anna Delane was a thief, shameless and unapologetic, and the life she lived as a fashion model hardly meant she was embarrassable about sex.

Then he saw her chin go up, her mouth tighten, as if she were suppressing something. Her body was as stiff as a board.

‘I thought you said you wanted a coffee,’ she bit at him.