He swore beneath his breath, his eyes fierce with passion.
‘Why are you being like this? I know you want me, Daisy. And I want you. Like I’ve never wanted any woman—ever. I can’t sleep. I can’t work. It’s driving me crazy—’
As he broke off Daisy felt a treacherous warmth slide over her skin, the pull of his words strong and relentless like a riptide. And then abruptly she shivered. Of course he wanted her. She’d rejected him. Men like Rollo didn’t like to be thwarted.
‘You want me because you can’t have me,’ she said flatly. ‘That’s all.’
There was a long, gritty silence.
Finally he drew in a breath. ‘That doesn’t explain why you kissed me.’
She couldn’t speak—didn’t want to reply. But he waited and waited, and she knew from the uncompromising set of his jaw that he was going to keep on waiting until she gave him an answer.
Not just an answer but the truth.
Looking down, she swallowed. ‘I kissed you because for one utterly senseless moment, part of me—the stupid, weak, irrational part I despise—wanted to have sex with you,’ she said at last.
There was a fraction of a pause, then he said quietly, ‘What about the rest?’
She frowned. ‘The rest?’
Glancing up, she felt her pulse stumble. She’d supposed he would be gloating, but there was no sign of triumph. Instead his jaw was taut and his eyes were searching her face.
‘You know—the smart, strong, rational part you admire.’
With shock, she realised he was attempting to make a joke. But she didn’t laugh. She couldn’t even smile. She felt too exposed, too vulnerable.
Shrugging, she stared past him. ‘Our relationship is complicated enough, Rollo. Sex would just make it even more muddled.’
His eyes on her face were clear and unflinching. ‘I disagree. Sex is simple. It’s people who make it complicated. They expect too much. But you and I, we don’t have to worry about that.’
She stared over at him, dry-mouthed, recognising the truth in his words. For she’d done it herself—confused sex with intimacy and love, and been left feeling foolish and crushed. And he was right: that wouldn’t happen with them. There wouldn’t be any expectations or disappointment or pain.
‘Do you know how rare that is, Daisy? We can’t let this moment pass.’
His face was expressionless, but something in his voice made her body twitch in response.
It would just be sex.
Pure, primal passion.
As though reading her thoughts, his eyes rested on her face.
‘I know you feel it,’ he said softly. ‘I feel it too...because I want what you want.’
She shivered, tasting his words in her mouth.
‘What do you want?’
Her voice was hoarse, her breath burning inside her chest as hesitantly he reached out and touched her throat, resting his hand softly against her pulse, so that her heart began to beat hard and slow.
‘I want this...’
He lifted his fingers and pressed them lightly against her mouth.
‘And this.’
Breathing out unsteadily, he stepped closer. With fingers that were both gentle and firm he loosened her ponytail, catching hold of the long, blonde hair. For one infinitesimal moment they stared at one another in silence. And then heat rushed through her as he tugged her head back, his pupils flaring.
‘And this.’
He brought his mouth down hard on hers, his hand tightening in her hair, fingers grasping her scalp. Pulse racing, blood thickening, she leaned into him, her body melting against his as he deepened the kiss. She felt dizzy, desperate, her mind devoid of anything but the firmness of his lips and the need to feel him—his body, his skin.
She ran her hands over his shirt, her eyes widening as he pushed her fingers aside and undid the buttons, peeling the crisp fabric slowly away from his skin. She stared at him in silence. He was so beautiful...so golden and smooth and flawless. Gently, hesitantly, she touched his stomach, tracing the definition of muscle with her finger.
Instantly he sucked in a breath and, looking up, she saw that his face was stiff with concentration, his body taut, muscles tense.
‘Are you sure?’
His voice was thick and constricted. She could hear the effort it was taking him to pause, to ask the question.
‘I want you to be sure.’
Daisy stared at him dazedly, her pulse fluttering, her whole body vibrating with heat and need and emotion.
‘I am. I’m sure. I want this.’ She swallowed, the ache inside her throbbing in time to her heartbeat. ‘I want you.’
His face was still, his eyes dark pinpoints.
‘And I want you too.’
Reaching out, he slid his hands gently over her collarbone and shoulders, pushing the straps of her dress down so that suddenly she was shivering, the cold air shocking her skin.
Rollo felt his groin tighten, hot tension flowering inside him.
She was wearing no bra.
He stared at her in silence, his gaze blunted by her beauty.
Then, wordlessly, he cupped her breasts in his hand, thumbs grazing the nipples. Slowly he bent his head and licked the tips, the blood beating wildly inside his chest as he felt them harden beneath his tongue, heard her soft moan. Then, lifting his mouth, he found her lips and, easing them open, he deepened the kiss, his hands pushing the dress down over her hips, the silken fabric brushing over his fingers as it slipped to the floor.
Daisy shuddered. His mouth was on her face, her throat, her collarbone, ceaseless and insistent. His fingers were sliding over her skin, sending shivers of heat in every direction, touching every nerve so that she moved restlessly against him.
‘Rollo...’
She could hear the longing, the pleading in her own voice, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered except his touch.
Only she wanted more...
She needed more.
Looping her arm around his neck, she pressed against him, sweetness spreading inside her as she felt his body rise and swell. She was tugging at his belt, the button, the zip, her blood beating inside her.
With a rough groan, Rollo pulled back. His heart was pounding, his body groaning in protest. He wanted Daisy with an intensity that he’d never felt for any woman. But he also wanted to demonstrate his power over her.
And over himself.
He needed to prove that he would never surrender to any woman—not even, perhaps especially not, to one as beautiful and seductive as Daisy.
His heart thumped, his mouth seeking hers again as he lifted her onto the worktop. Pulling her legs apart, he gently pushed aside the flimsy fabric of her panties, his breath stilling in his throat as she melted against his fingertips, her thighs clenching around his hand.
‘Let it go,’ he whispered against her mouth.
Daisy shuddered. Her whole body was dissolving beneath the teasing torment of his fingers. But it was not enough. Not enough to purge her body of the relentless aching tightness inside her. And, raising her hips, she rocked against him, a quivering pulse spilling over her hot, damp skin.
‘Don’t stop,’ she gasped. ‘Don’t stop—’
And then her muscles tensed and she was arching upwards, shuddering, unravelling, her hands grasping at his arms, her mind blank of everything but the heat and the hardness of his hand cupping her body...
* * *
Glancing down at the sweet vintage-style dress she was wearing, Daisy frowned. Was it too flippant for a ‘philanthropic benefit luncheon’? Possibly. But there was no time to change. The limousine would be arriving soon and they couldn’t be late. Rollo was one of the guest speakers.
Rollo.
Her muscles clenched, and suddenly she felt as though she were suffocating. Just thinking his name gave her a head rush. But clearly Rollo didn’t feel the same way for despite what had happened in the kitchen, he seemed in no rush whatsoever to consummate their relationship
.
She bit her lip. In fact, the only hint of the passionate moment they’d shared had been later as they made their way towards their respective bedrooms when he’d hesitated, then pulled her against him, kissing her fiercely as if he couldn’t help himself.
Lying alone in her bed, her body hot and twitching beneath the cool sheets, she had finally fallen asleep, her mind aching and exhausted with trying to make sense of his behaviour.
Waking, she had hoped they could talk. But, having both overslept, there had been no time to chat or enjoy a leisurely breakfast. Instead he’d been polite but strangely detached, given how intimate and uninhibited they had been just hours earlier. Remembering just how uninhibited she had been, Daisy felt her cheeks grow hot.
It was all very confusing, and more than a little embarrassing.
Glancing at her reflection, she breathed out slowly. She’d think about it later. Right now she had a job to do, and with one last twirl she turned and walked back into the bedroom.
‘You look nice.’
Her breath jammed in her throat, her eyes widening with shock. Rollo was standing in the doorway to her room, watching her calmly. As usual his expression was utterly indecipherable. He might have just been elected mayor of New York, or just as easily have lost all his money on the stock market. It was impossible to tell.
She stared at him accusingly. ‘You scared me.’
‘Sorry. I did knock.’
‘I didn’t hear you,’ she said quickly. ‘I was just changing my shoes. I thought I’d wear heels.’
‘I like them.’ His eyes dropped to the black patent court heels and then roamed lazily over her dress. ‘I like all of it. You look beautiful.’
Her face grew hot and tight, and she was suddenly unbearably conscious of her body’s response to his precision-cut attention.
‘Good. That’s great,’ she said mechanically and, picking up her phone, she glanced pointedly at the screen. ‘We should go. Otherwise we’ll be late.’
But he didn’t move. Instead he shifted against the door frame, his green eyes fixed on her face.
‘Actually, we won’t. I cancelled.’
It was a first. The first time he’d ever put his private life before work. And certainly the first time a woman had been at the top of his agenda.
What made his behaviour as baffling as it was unsettling was that he hadn’t even planned on doing it. It had just happened.
Sitting at his desk, he’d truly believed he would be attending the luncheon—right up to the moment when his subconscious had overridden his conscious brain and he’d picked up the phone and told his assistant to make his apologies.
But, planned or not, it was clear from his uncharacteristic behaviour that, despite his trying to treat his relationship with Daisy like any other business arrangement, she had brought chaos to his world. And now his life was full of precedents.
Including this self-inflicted discomfort in his groin.
Theoretically, last night had seemed like the perfect opportunity to demonstrate to Daisy that he was the one pulling the strings. Now, though, he could see that his logic might have been flawed. Not only was his body aching with frustration, but the satisfaction he’d felt at having made his point had been pretty much eclipsed by confusion over what it was he’d actually proved to Daisy—or himself.
Glancing up, he found her watching him warily.
‘You don’t seem very pleased,’ he remarked.
Her eyes darted past him. ‘I thought you were giving a speech?’
He shrugged. ‘I was. But there are always far too many speakers at those lunches. Besides...’
He lengthened the word so that it pressed against her skin like a cold knife.
‘I’d rather just speak to you.’
Her heart gave a thump.
‘Okay.’
A cold feeling was settling in the pit of her stomach and her eyes focused longingly on the door.
‘I thought we weren’t going to fight any more.’
Hearing the hesitation in her voice, he frowned. ‘Talking doesn’t have to mean fighting.’
Except that up to now it had.
He felt a stab of frustration. But why was he trying to coax her anyway? He should just tell her she was having lunch with him. Only suddenly—incredibly—he found himself wanting it to be her choice. For some inexplicable reason that seemed more important than getting his own way.
He held her gaze. ‘Have lunch with me. Please. I promise we won’t fight. I just want to talk.’
Daisy stared at him. He looked serious and sincere. And very handsome. Feeling the knot of tension inside her loosen a fraction, she nodded slowly.
‘I’d like that very much.’
Twenty minutes later the limousine pulled up outside a small restaurant with a flaking green-painted facade somewhere in East Harlem.
Glancing up at the name above the door, Daisy felt her body stiffen with shock. She’d heard of Bova’s, but she’d never imagined eating there. Surely this couldn’t be it? It was supposed to be the most exclusive restaurant in New York, but this place looked as though it might close down before they finished their meal.
She bit her lip. ‘Is this that restaurant where even celebrities can’t get a table?’
He hesitated, as though he was making some kind of decision. Then finally he nodded slowly. ‘It is. But I happen to know the owner.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come on. Let’s eat.’
Inside, the restaurant was even smaller than it had looked from the street. There were only seven tables, and all of them bar one were full.
‘I hope you like Italian,’ Rollo said as they sat down. ‘Other than pizza, I mean.’
His mouth curved and, looking up, she saw his eyes were light and teasing, and a ripple of happiness went through her like an electric current.
She smiled. ‘I love it,’ she said truthfully. ‘Especially the desserts.’
He seemed pleased.
‘Then you must have the cannoli. It’s sublime.’ He frowned. ‘I should have said—they don’t have a menu here. If you’re a regular, they know what you like and they cook it for you.’
Lifting his head, he paused as a waiter approached the table, and she felt a prickle of awe and envy as he switched into rapid and clearly fluent Italian.
Turning back to face her, he frowned. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering for you. I wouldn’t know where to start with most people, but you’re different. I know you as well as I know myself.’
His eyes on hers were very green.
Daisy blinked. ‘Really?’
‘Well, I should. That’s the reason we’ve spent so much time getting our stories straight.’
He gave her a quick, dazzling smile and she nodded mechanically. Had she really imagined that he thought she was special in some way? Heart banging in her throat, she picked up her glass, hoping to hide her confusion.
‘I’m sure it’ll be delicious.’
Her heart was still pounding in her chest and, desperate to disguise the effect of his words, she gave him what she hoped was a cool smile.
‘I’m actually really excited. I don’t eat out much. I never have. I think it’s probably because of working so much at the diner with Mum and Dad.’
His eyes gleamed. ‘Don’t knock the Love Shack.’
She screwed up her face. ‘I’m not. It’s great—and they’re great. And they love what they do, and they love each other, and that’s why it’s the Love Shack.’
She stopped abruptly. Her voice was too high and forced. But right now was not a good time to discuss her parents—particularly their perfect marriage. Not when she was sitting opposite her soon-to-be fake husband.
Desperate to change the subject, she glanced round the restaurant. ‘It’s not what I expected.’ She frowned. ‘It’s so small and...’
‘Ordinary?’ he suggested. His expression was unreadable but his eyes were watching her carefully.
She nodded. ‘
It feels like someone’s dining room.’ Her eyes flickered over the faces of the other diners, widening as they stopped on a dark-haired man wearing a polo shirt.
‘Isn’t that...?’
Rollo held his finger up to his lips. ‘It is. And that is his equally famous wife. They live in Tribeca. They come here twice a month.’
‘They do?’
Hearing her surprise, he shrugged. ‘The food here is the best in the city.’
She nodded, her pulse quickening. She believed him. But for the last few days, her life had been spent learning his life, and she knew that there was something more beneath his words. She could feel it in the way he rearranged his glass, hear it in the hair-fine tension in his voice.
‘So, do you come here regularly too?’
He nodded. ‘Probably a couple of times a week most weeks.’
As the waiter returned, bringing olives and water, Daisy stared down at her cutlery, his words scraping against her skin like fingernails on a blackboard. A couple of times a week! How many women was that a year?
She frowned, feeling some of her happiness oozing away.
But why was she counting? Rollo’s private life was none of her business. She didn’t have to care about his past. Or worry about being the latest in an ever-growing line of women that he brought to the same restaurant.
That was the upside to this whole crazy situation, and the beauty of their relationship. She could stay detached, unemotional, immune.
Or that was what was supposed to happen.
She caught her breath, shocked to discover that wasn’t how she was feeling at all. Instead a thin curl of misery was coiling around her brain.
‘You’re very quiet.’
Rollo’s voice bumped into her thoughts.
‘I was just thinking.’ She gave him a small, tight smile. ‘Trying to work something out. A sum.’
He stared at her in a way that made her heart skid forward.
‘A sum! You’re not going to suggest we go halves on the bill, are you?’
‘No! Although I don’t see why I shouldn’t. I’m not Orphan Annie, you know. I do have some money.’
He ignored her. ‘So, what are you trying to work out?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Her voice sounded more desperate than she’d intended and, picking up her glass, she took a sip of water. ‘Truly. It was nothing.’
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