by Dani Collins
Where was she? Her coat was still there on the sofa, so...
“Natalie?”
In the bedroom? A strange relief flicked through him. The night wasn’t over after all. He ought to be uncomfortable with her making assumptions, but all he could think was that he could sate this disturbing desire to have her again. How could he be this restless and hungry when he was still buzzing with orgasm?
She wasn’t in his room.
Of course, she wouldn’t know which one was his.
“Natalie,” he called, pushing open all the doors as he went, even the ones to the room the children used, but she wasn’t in any of them. Kitchen?
As he went through the lounge, he glanced at the table by the door and noted her purse was gone. A sick lurch hit the pit of his stomach and panged a little higher when he saw the scrap of black lace he’d snapped and discarded on the floor.
Oddly uncomfortable with the evidence of their passion lying where housekeeping could find it—really not like him to have such a sudden and acute need for privacy—he stuffed the lingerie in his pocket and glanced into the hall outside the suite.
Empty.
Grabbing his room card, he went all the way to the elevator and hit the button. The doors opened immediately, so the car hadn’t moved since they’d left it less than thirty minutes ago.
Baffled, he went back into his suite and did another search.
Had she taken the stairs?
He dialed her room.
She answered with a brisk “Hello... Bonjour.”
“Natalie?”
A tiny pause, then, “Yes?”
“It’s Demitri.”
“I know. I recognize your voice.”
Another pause, this one longer. He was waiting for her to explain why she’d left, but there was an expectant curiosity on her side, as though she was waiting for him to tell her why he’d called.
It dawned on him that she hadn’t expected him to call.
When had he last called a woman in a timely fashion after a tryst, let alone within minutes of their parting?
“Oh, I forgot my coat!” she groaned in realization. “Rookie mistake. I’m sorry. That could be awkward, couldn’t it? Can you sneak it into the small meeting room on the second floor first thing tomorrow morning? That’s where we’re doing the group training sessions. I’ll pretend I brought it so I wouldn’t have to go to my room before leaving for lunch.”
“Sounds elaborate,” he commented with false calm, feeling like the rookie here as a hot, spurned sensation followed the word sneak. He told himself to go along with her plan and count himself lucky she hadn’t read more into their evening than was warranted, but he still found himself speaking in a low, uncomfortably dry voice. “I could bring it to you now. Or you could come back.”
“People are going to talk enough after seeing me go to dinner with you. I’d rather pretend nothing else happened.”
Ouch. He scowled across the empty lounge of his quiet suite.
“Is that why you left without saying good-night?” he asked. “You were afraid of being talked about?” Repercussions were not something he worried about. What she needed, he decided, was a demonstration of how quickly his credit card could swipe away any worries she might have. There really wasn’t much that couldn’t be resolved that way, and he was realizing that he’d happily pay whatever it took to get her back to his room and into his bed.
“I sure as heck didn’t relish doing the walk of shame in the morning,” she replied, delivering a second, startlingly efficient kick to his gut. Most women regarded sex with him as a badge of honor. Having her treat it as if it was something dirty was surprisingly demoralizing.
“I’m sorry if it was rude to leave like that, but it is a work night so I should, um, get some rest... I had a really nice time, though. Thanks.” Click.
Seriously?
He set down the phone and stared at it, tension increasing by the second.
“Let it go,” he said aloud, but his brain yelled, Seriously?
He looked at her coat draped over the back of the sofa. Defiance took him across to pick it up. Her scent wafted into his nostrils, confusing him with a swirl of misgivings and conscience and sexual hunger.
He put it down as though it was soaked in combustibles. His hands continued to tingle even when he closed them into fists.
She was doing him a favor, he told himself. They’d had no business taking a professional relationship to such a personal level. Leaving it as a one-night stand was absolutely the best thing to do.
Hell, the best thing he could do would be to put on a fresh shirt, go back to the club and pick up another woman. He would, he decided.
But didn’t move.
In his head, he heard that movie star say, I thought you were finished with her.
The graveled anger returned to the pit of his gut and he didn’t understand it. Yes, he picked up social climbers and took them to suites and nightclubs and lost them to celebrities. It was all part of catering to Makricosta’s elite clientele. But Natalie wasn’t part of that world.
The inconvenient integrity he’d shoved aside when she’d told him she wanted an affair returned with a twist of vengeance. Exploiting the innocent was one of the few things he tried not to do. The vulnerable were meant to be protected. His upbringing had taught him that much.
That was why he worked so hard to prove he wasn’t innocent or vulnerable. He was jaded and impervious.
Why was he dwelling on any of it?
He crossed to the bar and poured himself a drink, scowling at Natalie’s coat, thinking, I’m finished with her.
While her voice repeated in his head. Walk of shame, walk of shame, walk of shame.
* * *
Natalie was proud of herself for thinking to take the stairs last night. She’d run down them as though she’d been pursued, and had told herself she was shaking and breathless from the exercise, not as a reaction to intense lovemaking and a kind of shock.
That wasn’t supposed to have happened!
Dinner, okay. That was fine. Going to the club had been ill-advised, but not terrible. A kiss good-night? Generally acceptable after a date, even if kissing that particular man was a bad idea.
Sex? She honestly hadn’t planned that and couldn’t believe she’d been so swept up that she’d gone through with it. In the front room!
At least anyone watching the elevator lights would have seen it stop at her floor then stop at the penthouse without any sign of it returning down to hers. And people would watch for little signals like that. As much as she loved her job and the people she worked with, she knew they were the usual assortment of society. Most were wonderful and generous, but some lived for gossip and drama.
Thank goodness a scarf was part of her uniform. It neatly covered the mark on her neck—something she really ought to feel more disgraced to be sporting, but she felt too physically good. Floaty and delicious, body aching in the best possible way.
Her heart ached in a different way. A rebound loneliness had struck overnight as she’d left euphoria and stepped back into reality. Her hookup with Demitri wasn’t a forever thing. It wasn’t even the beginning of a romance. She was just one more in his line of conquests. Tuesday night.
You used him, too. It’s fine, she assured herself as she went about her morning. Her life had been one of constant responsibility and family obligation. Growing up, her brother’s needs had always taken precedence over hers, and now Zoey’s were the priority. Last night had been a rare chance for Natalie to completely indulge herself. It had been deeply satisfying in a poignant way. Not tawdry, as Demitri had intimated, but temporarily, out of necessity. She had a daughter and a life to go home to.
And men, she knew from experience, were just one more person with needs that wound up being put ahead of her own. If she had a selfish streak, it was in refusing to court deep involvements because she knew how easily she became a pushover once her heart was involved.
Even Demitri, wh
o wanted nothing more from her than she’d got from him, had become someone she was going out of her way to protect. Not that she wanted to broadcast what she’d done with him. It was far too private. For a little while she’d let herself believe in the fairy tale, the one she kept closest to her heart and didn’t reveal to anyone because it was so far-fetched. Other people got the dream ending, but not her. She knew that, but she’d been able to pretend for a little while that it was possible, and because that little glimpse of happily-ever-after would have to do her for a lifetime, she had no regrets that she’d taken the opportunity.
It left her emotions raw, though, and her heart in need of extra guarding. When her coworkers pried about the dinner, she insisted he was just being nice, and then pretended an annoying email had come through from her ex. After that, she was able to keep her focus on training.
Still, her colleagues watched her with avid curiosity as she went through her slides and explained the advantages of the new system. All the while, she was acutely aware of the empty chair near the door with her coat shouldered over its back. When they broke for lunch, one of the women who shared her office downstairs hung back.
“Is it true you had a date with Demitri Makricosta last night?” Monique asked in an excited hush of French.
Natalie blushed and shook her head insistently. “It wasn’t a date. He bought me dinner, but it was a work thing. I’m doing a report for head office,” she prevaricated.
“Oh? What kind of report?” Monique was friendly, but on the nosy side. The kind of person who needed to know things before everyone else. She’d pressed for all the details on the training before Natalie had got herself properly organized at her desk the first day.
“It’s confidential,” Natalie dismissed, letting her hair swing forward as she pretended to search her coat pockets. She had a hard time with simple fabrications like Santa Claus. Outright lies weren’t easy for her.
“So Demitri didn’t make a pass? Nothing suggestive at all? I find that hard to believe, given his reputation.”
Well, that was certainly to the point.
“It’s his voice,” Natalie dismissed, smiling tightly as she applied lip balm she didn’t need. “He doesn’t mean everything he says to sound like a come-on, but it does.”
“Does it?” a masculine tone asked behind her, making her whip around and ignite with heat. Not just because he’d caught her talking about him, but because he was a blast of supermale hotness. He hadn’t shaved, his hair was finger combed, and his jeans clung like a second skin made of faded denim. Dark circles underlined his eyes, and his striped shirt was creased as though it had just come out of the package. He leaned against the door with smug corporate ownership despite his casually disheveled appearance.
That sexy tilt of his wide mouth was very self-satisfied, kicking her pulse into a gallop.
In a very deliberate way, he turned his attention to Monique. She blushed, too, standing a little taller, tummy sucked in and lips bitten flat with remorse.
“What do you think?” he asked Monique. “I only came here to ask Natalie to join me for lunch so we could talk more about that report she’s writing, but do I sound inappropriate?”
He did. He totally did. Especially when he looked back at Natalie and she read sizzling memory in his eyes. His gaze stayed fixed to hers, but it felt as though she was naked and he was looking her over from nipples to knees.
Monique swallowed audibly.
“Lunch has been provided,” Natalie managed, stowing her lip balm in her purse with hands that trembled. “Everyone’s gone in down the hall, but I should join them. I promised to answer any questions they might have about my presentation.”
She silently willed him to move so she could escape his aura of assertive sexuality.
“Theo sprang for lunch? He’s usually such a cheapskate.” Demitri stepped back from the doorway into the hall.
Monique giggled as she exited the room. Natalie was able to take one small breath before Demitri fell into step beside her.
Why was he here? It took everything to act casually as the din of chatting people died off when they entered the banquet room.
“Good afternoon,” Demitri greeted the crowd in French. “I’m stealing lunch. And Natalie. Fifteen minutes,” he added when she turned a startled look on him. “In my office. We’ll talk while we eat.”
Unable to protest in front of their audience, she waited until they’d gone up a floor with their filled plates to the accounting offices above the conference level, passing a few curious pairs of eyes along the way.
The administration offices devoted to the siblings’ workspace had a small executive lounge as its hub. Demitri walked her through it, then tagged his card on a reader before holding open the door with his name on it.
“What are you doing?” she asked as his office door clicked shut behind them. He was completely undermining the composure she’d worked so hard to put in place all morning.
He set his plate on the edge of his desk. She rattled hers onto the small circular table in the corner, but didn’t pull out a chair. A surge of defensiveness accosted her, making her keep her distance and stay ready on her feet.
“I don’t know,” he grumbled, pushing his hands into his pockets as he confronted her with a hard stare. “I never sneak around. This is new territory for me.”
What was that supposed to mean? She had reconciled herself to their thing being one night and him never talking to her again. His call last night had shocked her to her toes. This was even more baffling.
She had the sensation that her shoulders were up around her ears, locked with tension, but she couldn’t make herself relax. Her heart was pounding, her body flushed hot and cold, her ears filled with a rushing sound... All of her was reacting to him in conflicting signals of excitement and danger while her brain hammered with the knowledge that last night shouldn’t have happened. It had been self-delusional on an emotional level and just plain unprofessional.
“I don’t...” She had to clear her throat, completely out of her depth here. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”
He frowned. “Do you want it in French? I’m saying that I’ve never tried to hide the fact that I’m seeing a woman, and I don’t like it. Don’t expect me to be good at it.”
“We’re seeing each other?” Her ears rang with a repetition of the phrase, trying to make sense of it.
“Having an affair, then. Whatever you want to call it.” He shrugged his big shoulders, the movement jerky and dismissive.
“Is that what you call it? I mean, do you even do that? See women more than once?”
“Not often,” he allowed, not flinching from her bewildered stare, utterly unfazed at being called a philanderer. “But you said you wanted an affair while you were here, and last night was good.” His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Very good. Wasn’t it?”
Her heart seemed to break through the thin skin of her throat, pounding in a state of painful vulnerability under his challenge. His statement was nothing so insecure as a request for confirmation. He knew damned well he’d rocked her world, and given the intensity of his gaze, he was one feminine sigh of surrender from doing it again.
“Is there any chance you’ll quit your job so we can do this in the open?” he asked gruffly.
“I... What? Ha!” The sound escaped her in a burst of disbelief as her consciousness landed firmly back on the hard floor.
She looked around, taking in weird details of his office that she couldn’t have known if she was dreaming, like a slanted drafting table with a big scratch pad splashed with various streaks of color, a whiteboard scrawled with uneven boxes and illegible labels, a wall strung with threads, magazine clippings pinned along them. The shelves held dozens of odd items from water bottles to smartphone cases to beach balls, all wearing the Makricosta logo.
“Have I got this right? Are you seriously asking me to make a permanent change to my life for something temporary? That’s not a demand for commitment,”
she rushed to add, holding up a forestalling hand. “I’m just saying, do you hear yourself?”
She almost added, I’m a mom, but it really didn’t fit with the way she’d behaved last night and only made her more self-conscious with what was happening now. Especially because there was a small part of her that thought, in another life... She would never, ever wish away her daughter, but a wistful desire to see what might have been had underpinned all her very sound reasons for taking this assignment in France.
And here was the answer. This was what she could be: an independent woman who was carefree enough to take up a man’s exceedingly frivolous offer of... What was he even suggesting?
“How would that even work?” she quizzed with bemusement. “I’d quit my job and you’d set me up somewhere, pay my bills?”
He barely moved, just offered a cool nod of assent. “You’d travel with me if I required it.”
“Oh, my God.” She’d been joking. Ridiculing the suggestion.
A gush of icy cheapness went through her as she absorbed the full impact of the scenario. This was what happened when you thought the grass was greener on the neighbor’s lawn. Turned out it was actually an overflow of the septic tank.
She headed for the door.
Before she could turn the knob, his hand was over the crack, his body looming next to hers in a radiation of heat and crackling male energy.
“Why does that offend you? I want to see you again and not on the sly. Whatever the obstacles are, I want to remove them.”
She glared over her shoulder, trying to hang on to her insulted indignation, but he was so obviously uncomfortable it gave her pause. Her senses took a hit of his male energy at the same time, flooding her with memories of how yummy it had felt to be stroked and possessed and drawn into shared climax. Her breathing changed and so did his.
“Why?” she demanded. There were thousands of other women out there. He should know. He’d bedded most of them. Was he running out? Was that what motivated him to chase her?
“You know why. We didn’t even make it to the bed, for God’s sake.”