Hired for Romano's Pleasure

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Hired for Romano's Pleasure Page 17

by Chantelle Shaw


  He stalked from the room, doubt rising. Where was she?

  ‘Are you okay?’ He pounded on the bathroom door.

  ‘Sorry. I won’t be long.’

  ‘Are you sick?’ She’d seemed tipsy, not drunk, but perhaps he was wrong.

  ‘No. Not sick. Just sticky.’

  Sticky? Adoni scowled. That made no sense.

  The door opened and his visitor stepped out. She looked completely different. Shorter for a start, her shoes dangling from her hand.

  ‘I used the shower. I feel much better now.’ She stepped out into the corridor and tripped over the hem of her long dress, straight into his arms. Automatically Adoni caught her, but not before her soft breasts collided with his torso and her slim frame came to rest against him.

  ‘Oops. Sorry.’ She pulled back and smiled vaguely. ‘This dress is too long. It was made for someone else.’

  ‘Someone wearing shoes,’ he murmured, trying to shove the thought of her lithe body from his mind.

  ‘Ah.’ She nodded. ‘That explains it.’ She sniffed. ‘Is that coffee I smell?’ Before he could answer she lifted her trailing skirt so high he caught a tantalising amount of shapely, bare legs before she turned and, hand on the wall, made her way to the sitting room.

  Adoni took his time following. He’d been rocked by his response to the woman who’d emerged from the guest bathroom. Gone were the thick make-up and fake lashes. Without them he discovered a clear peaches and cream complexion that suited those dark blue eyes. Then there was a heart-shaped face and a pink mouth that looked too much like a cupid’s bow for comfort.

  Gone too was the elaborately curled and rigid hairstyle, threaded with mustard-yellow ribbon. Instead her dark hair lay straight and long around her shoulders. It was still wet, dripping at the ends, making the bodice of her dress water-stained and clingy.

  He swallowed as he watched her turn and sink abruptly onto the sofa, the lamplight caressing the unexpectedly sweet tilt of her breast beneath the wet fabric. Heat stirred in his groin at the astounding sexual allure of her gentle curves and bare face.

  Adoni frowned. His sex drive was healthy but such an instant, urgent response was rare. Especially as she wasn’t even trying to attract him.

  Was she?

  He’d met some devious women in his time, going to extraordinary lengths to snare him, but instinct told him this one was exactly what she seemed.

  ‘What’s your name?’ His voice emerged thick and abrupt but she didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘Alice. Alice Trehearn.’ She looked over her shoulder at him and, to his astonishment, the line of her throat, the angle of her neat chin and the curve of her smile fanned the fire in his belly to a needy, urgent blast of heat.

  ‘Don’t frown, though I have to say you look very sexy when you do, all macho and...’ Her words petered out and she squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Remind me never to drink champagne again.’

  Despite himself Adoni laughed. There was something so refreshing about a woman who spoke her mind.

  ‘How old are you, Alice?’ Suddenly it was important he find out.

  ‘Twenty-three next week.’ She turned away and poured milk into one of the coffees. ‘How old are you?’

  Relief filled him. With her unguarded behaviour he’d wondered if perhaps she was far younger. ‘Thirty-one.’ A lifetime apart from her in experience, but, he realised in shock, that didn’t dim his interest. His burgeoning interest. His trousers were too tight as he sat down opposite her.

  ‘You look older.’ She tilted her head as she surveyed him. ‘Except when you smile. I like your smile. You should smile more often.’ Carefully she put the milk jug down on the table.

  Adoni’s lips twitched. Had he really preferred candour?

  The answer was a definite yes.

  ‘I thought you liked my...er...dark, brooding looks.’

  ‘Oh, I do.’ She stopped abruptly, her mouth sagging a little as if she realised what she’d said, then she focused on the mug of coffee, cautiously taking a sip. ‘But your smile makes you look less like some bossy Greek god.’

  ‘Ares?’

  She nodded emphatically. ‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘Or the one who threw thunderbolts.’

  ‘Zeus?’ Was he really so fearsome? Adoni preferred to think of himself as controlled and focused, a man who didn’t suffer fools in business or gold-diggers in his personal life.

  ‘That’s the one.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘Except they always show him with a beard and you don’t have one.’

  Adoni suppressed a smile. ‘I could grow one.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘That would be a waste. You’ve got a nice chin. Maybe a bit on the obstinate side but very nice.’ She took another sip of coffee and smiled vaguely.

  ‘Thank you. So do you.’ It was a little pointed perhaps but just the right counterpoint for that lush mouth he found himself staring at.

  Adoni leaned in and grabbed his mug, gulping hot coffee. When he lowered it, she was staring, her mouth slightly open and her breathing quick.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ He told himself he was behaving impeccably, pretending he didn’t recognise her response for what it was—feminine interest. An answering interest quickened his pulse as he took in her delicate features and slim body.

  ‘Fine. You just look so...’

  Maybe she was sobering up, for she thought better of finishing her comment.

  ‘So...?’ Adoni didn’t fish for compliments but he found himself wondering what she’d been about to say.

  Dark lashes veiled her eyes as she took another sip of coffee. ‘Nice. You look nice.’

  He’d bet his last dollar that wasn’t what she’d been going to say. ‘You do too.’

  ‘There’s no need to lie.’ She lifted her head, viewing him from under regally arched eyebrows. ‘I look dreadful. Why Emily chose this colour I don’t know. Honestly, it’s the colour of baby poo.’

  Adoni laughed. She was right; it was reminiscent of a rather nasty stain. ‘It’s fair to say it’s not a good match for your colouring.’

  ‘That’s what I said, but it was too late to change it. Too late even to alter the fit.’ Her mouth turned down in a sulky pout Adoni found far too seductive.

  ‘At least it’s only for one night.’

  She nodded. ‘That’s what I keep telling myself. It’s a day of firsts.’

  ‘Firsts?’

  Another nod. ‘Absolutely. First time wearing yellow, for one thing. Never again.’ She shuddered. ‘First time in London. First time as a bridesmaid. I thought it would be a lot more fun but the other bridesmaids kept tittering and gossiping amongst themselves. And the groomsmen...’

  ‘Not your type?’

  She shrugged hugely and one pillowy puffed sleeve slid off her shoulder. ‘I don’t really know. But I think not.’ She lifted her legs and tucked them under her then wriggled back on the sofa.

  There shouldn’t have been anything remotely seductive about the action yet Adoni found himself fixated on that luscious little shimmy of hips and breasts.

  ‘You don’t know?’ His voice sounded unfamiliar.

  She shook her head. ‘I need to research more.’ She blinked back at him and smiled. ‘I have some firsts.’ She looked down at her dress and scowled. ‘But there are a lot of nevers too.’

  ‘Nevers?’ Adoni’s English was excellent but he’d never heard of that before.

  ‘Absolutely.’ She lifted one finger. ‘Never had luck with the opposite sex.’ Then a second finger. ‘Never had a kiss that blew my socks off.’ Her gaze narrowed. ‘You look like a man who could blow a girl’s socks off with a kiss.’

  Adoni choked on his coffee. ‘Is that a proposition?’ He was torn between amusement and a dark, fast-running channel of temptation.

  Devoid of that tacky lipstick, Alice Trehea
rn had the most alluring mouth he’d ever seen. He swallowed hard and reminded himself this was the drink talking.

  ‘As if a man like you would kiss a girl like me.’ She leaned her head back against the sofa, her eyelids drooping. She lapsed into silence and he wondered if she was falling asleep.

  ‘Never driven a car either.’ She sighed. ‘I bet you have a lovely car.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’ And there was no way he was letting this inebriated woman near it, despite her eager smile. ‘But I’m not letting you drive it.’

  She looked so ridiculously disappointed, her mouth turning down at the edges, that he almost wished he could bring back that sunny smile of hers and the twinkle in her fine eyes.

  ‘Is there anything else on your never list?’

  Alice opened her mouth then closed it again. A flush of pink rose to her cheeks. Instantly his interest piqued.

  ‘Alice?’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s nothing.’ She leaned forward, reached for her coffee and, seeing the mug empty, sank back.

  ‘You might as well tell me what it is you haven’t done. I promise to keep it to myself.’

  Was he really so curious about her?

  To his surprise, Adoni discovered he was.

  She fidgeted. ‘I’m doing all the talking. Shouldn’t you tell me something?’ Just as if she hadn’t barged uninvited into his private suite. Yet Adoni hadn’t enjoyed a woman’s conversation so much in a long time.

  What did that say about the women he dated?

  ‘What do you want me to say?’

  She shrugged, melting even further into the sofa. ‘Anything you like. Tell me something you haven’t told anyone else. I promise to keep it to myself.’

  The idea was absurd. Why share with a complete stranger? Yet as he sat in the mellow lamplight, watching Alice Trehearn’s easy smile and expectant look, he found himself tempted.

  Because he wasn’t accustomed to sharing anything truly personal?

  Because she was a stranger he’d never see again?

  That, and the surprising tug of attraction, must be why he even considered playing along. And why he’d allowed her into his space when he was notoriously private.

  His mood had been odd all evening. Restlessness had kept him on edge. Remarkably, it was only since she’d inserted herself into his presence that he’d begun to relax.

  ‘I don’t like weddings.’ The words came suddenly. Adoni was surprised how good it felt to admit it.

  ‘Really?’ One fine eyebrow arched. ‘Any particular reason?’

  He took another mouthful of coffee. It didn’t taste as rich this time. ‘I was nearly married once. I suppose weddings bring back memories.’

  Of rejection, disbelief and disappointment. But he’d been young enough to learn his lesson well. These days, apart from his hand-picked managers, he didn’t put his trust in anyone but himself. It was safer that way. When those closest to you could turn so viciously against you, trust was the first casualty, along with love.

  Absently he rolled his shoulder, releasing a stiffness along the collarbone.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ She leaned forward, her hand lifted towards him as if to smooth away the frown he felt settle on his brow. Then she sank back, regarding him seriously.

  He waited for the inevitable, a question about why his marriage hadn’t proceeded, but again Alice Trehearn surprised him. Even inebriated she had enough delicacy not to trespass further. ‘Tonight must have been a trial.’

  He shook his head, automatically rejecting sympathy. ‘It was fine. It was no big deal.’ Time to change the subject. ‘So what is the other thing you’ve never done? I told you my secret. It’s time for you to share too.’

  She blinked, staring back at him with a look he couldn’t interpret. Annoyance? Embarrassment? Certainly the colour in her cheeks warmed to rose madder.

  ‘Alice?’

  Her mouth tightened and then the words tumbled out. ‘Never had an orgasm, if you must know.’ For an instant she looked as regal as a young swan, stretching her neck higher and tilting her chin, trying to hide what he guessed was embarrassment.

  Then something unexpected flashed in her eyes. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to help me with that?’

  Copyright © 2018 by Annie West

  ISBN-13: 9781488083204

  Hired for Romano’s Pleasure

  First North American Publication 2018

  Copyright © 2018 by Chantelle Shaw

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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