His Brand of Passion. Кейт Хьюит
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strength of it. He was pretty sure she’d felt his own. If she refused, she had more scruples—or at least more self-control—than he’d credited her with.
Wordlessly Zoe tossed her bouquet back on the table. ‘Let’s go,’ she said and, with a smile of triumph curling his mouth, Aaron led her out of the ballroom.
CHAPTER TWO
SHE DIDN’T DO stuff like this—one-night stands, flings with strangers. It was crazy. She was crazy, Zoe thought as she followed Aaron outside into the warm summer air and then straight into the luxurious leather interior of the limo that was waiting by the kerb, just as he’d said.
What on earth had made her agree? She didn’t even like him. But she was incredibly, irresistibly attracted to him. And, Zoe realised with a sudden flash of insight, the fact that she didn’t like him made this whole encounter emotionally safe. Aaron Bryant was no danger to her already battle-worn heart. Even if this whole scenario was way outside her comfort zone.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked as the limo pulled away from the Plaza.
‘My apartment.’
She nodded, felt a little frisson of something close to fear. This was so not her. She might give off that reckless, devil-may-care attitude, but in her relationships she’d been depressingly, boringly conservative. And she’d got hurt time and time again as a result.
Maybe this was the way to go.
‘Nervous?’ Aaron asked, the word mocking, and Zoe just shrugged.
‘Going home with a strange man to his apartment is a little out of the usual for me, no matter what you might think. But, considering how well-known you are, I think I’m pretty safe.’
Aaron stretched his arms out along the seat, his fingers just brushing her shoulder. Zoe resisted the urge to shiver under that thoughtless touch. ‘How do you reckon that?’ he asked.
‘I don’t think,’ Zoe said, ‘you want any bad publicity.’
He frowned, his eyes narrowing, before his wonderfully mobile mouth suddenly curved into a surprising smile. ‘Are you actually threatening me?’
‘Not at all. Just stating facts. And in any case, like you said earlier, we’re practically family. It’s hard to believe you’re related to Chase, but since you are I’ll assume you’re not a complete psycho.’
‘Thanks very much for that vote of confidence,’ Aaron said dryly. He turned to gaze out of the window. ‘Why is it hard to believe I’m related to Chase?’
Zoe shrugged. ‘Mainly because he’s actually nice.’
‘I see.’ He didn’t seem at all offended, more amused. Zoe glanced out of the window at the cars and taxis streaming by in a blur. ‘So where is your apartment, exactly?’
‘We’re here.’
‘Here’ was a luxury high-rise on West End Avenue, and Aaron’s apartment was, unsurprisingly, the penthouse. The lift doors opened right into the living area, and Zoe stepped into a temple of modern design with floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides overlooking the city and the Hudson River.
‘Nice,’ she remarked, taking in the black leather sofas, the chrome-and-glass coffee table, the modern sculpture, and the white faux fur rug. A granite-and-marble kitchen opened onto a dining area with an ebony table that seated twelve. Everything was spotless, empty, barren. The place, Zoe decided, had no soul. Just like the man.
She walked to the window overlooking the Hudson, the inky-black river glimmering with lights. She felt Aaron approach from behind her, and then she shivered as he moved her hair and brushed his lips across the bared nape of her neck.
His hands fastened on her hips and then slid slowly upwards over the silk of her dress to cup her breasts. Zoe shivered again and then, with effort, stepped away.
‘I don’t know what impression you’ve formed of me, but I like a little conversation along with the sex.’ She spoke lightly, even though she felt a tremble deep inside. She’d had plenty of boyfriends, but she’d never done this before, and never with a man like Aaron. Powerful. Overwhelming. A little…frightening.
‘Conversation?’ Aaron repeated, sounding completely nonplussed. ‘What do you want to talk about? The latest film? The weather?’
‘I think you could do better than that,’ she answered tartly. ‘And, actually, what I’d really like to talk about is food.’
Aaron arched one dark eyebrow, unsmiling. ‘Food.’
‘I’m hungry. Starving, actually. I never eat at parties.’
He simply stared and Zoe almost laughed. At least she felt a little easing of the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside her. She doubted Aaron was used to women who did anything more than nibble at the occasional lettuce leaf and take their clothes off on his command. She was determined to be different.
‘I don’t have any food,’ he said after a moment, his gaze still hard and assessing on her. ‘I always order in or eat out.’
‘Perfect,’ Zoe replied breezily. ‘We can order in.’
He still looked nonplussed, frankly incredulous. ‘What do you want to order?’
‘A California roll.’
‘Sushi?’
‘If by sushi you mean the non-raw fish kind, then yes.’ She was inexplicably gratified to see his mouth curve in the tiniest of smiles.
‘If we’re going to order sushi, we’ll do it properly,’ he said and slid his phone out of his pocket.
Zoe smiled. ‘At last you’re putting your phone to good use.’
This woman drove him crazy. In far too many ways. His palms itched to touch her, yet here she was insisting they order sushi, as if they were some couple about to have a quiet night in. He’d almost asked her if she wanted to rent a DVD while they were at it, but then he decided not to risk it. She might take him seriously.
The women he knew—and, more importantly, the women he went to bed with—didn’t behave the way Zoe Parker did, which begged the question why he’d brought her back here in the first place.
He was used to women going along exactly with what he wanted. What he commanded. Hell, everyone did. He didn’t allow for anything else.
And yet here he was, ordering her damn food. Still, he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten much at the reception either, and he was willing to go along with Zoe’s crazy ideas—to a point. Eventually and inevitably she would have to understand and accept who was calling the shots.
He slid his phone back into his pocket. ‘The food should be here in about fifteen minutes.’
A flirty, cat-like smile played around her mouth. ‘So what should we talk about for fifteen minutes?’ she asked, and he could tell from her tone that she was laughing at him, that she knew the thought of making conversation for that long exasperated and annoyed him.
He didn’t want to talk.
‘I have no idea,’ he said shortly, and her smile widened.
‘Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas, don’t worry.’ She walked over to the sofa and stretched out, her legs long and slim in front of her, her arms along the back. ‘Let’s see…We could talk about why you live in such an awful apartment.’
‘Awful apartment?’ he repeated in disbelief and she smiled breezily.
‘I’ve been in morgues with more warmth. Or we could talk about how you don’t get along with anyone in your family, or why you’re so obsessive about work.’ She batted her eyelashes. ‘Are you compensating for something else, do you think?’
‘Or,’ he growled,