Changing Constantinou's Game. Дженнифер Хейворд
Читать онлайн книгу.
going to be black and blue for a while, but hopefully that’s all it’ll be.”
She stared at him with a deer-in-the-headlights expression that should have warned him off, but didn’t. He was far too busy noticing how the lashes on her almond-shaped, exotic eyes were a mile long and how those full lips of hers could take him to the moon and back should she choose to apply them correctly...
And what the hell was he thinking? He let go of her chin and shifted away from her. She was attracted to him. She’d made that clear upstairs in the lobby. And of course he’d noticed her. It had been hard not to. Disheveled, distracted, she’d been jabbering into her mobile phone in a husky, breathless voice that had made it easy to envision her in his bed. That and that body... The kind of curves that would look even better without clothes.
He shook his head and looked in the opposite direction. Not the kind of thinking that boded well for hours in close proximity.
“Alex?”
She was holding out a bottle of water, her cheeks even pinker than before. “Want one?”
He took it, if only to cool down his overheated libido. A paperback spilled out of her bag, a half-dressed woman in the arms of a bare-chested male emblazoned on the cover.
He picked it up. “Do you actually read this stuff?” he demanded incredulously.
“I do,” she said stiffly. “Can I please have it back?”
He ignored her outstretched hand. Turned the book over. “Looks smutty...is that why you women like it?”
“I suppose you have Othello in your bag,” she came back tartly, reaching for it.
He pulled it away. “Actually, Great Expectations. Want to have a browse?”
She gave him a long look. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
He braced his hands on the floor to roll to his feet. She waved him off. “Okay, I believe you. You’ve had your laugh...can I have my book back, please?”
He gave her a considering look. “It is smutty, isn’t it?”
She glared at him. Watched as he flipped pages, stopped to read one, then moved on. He halted at a particularly juicy section. “Oh this is good.” He quoted out loud, deepening his voice to add an over-the-top commentary. “He ran his finger over her erect nipple, making her groan in response...Ellie—” he flicked a glance at her, “who calls their characters Ellie, by the way? Anyway,” he looked back at the book, “Ellie arched her back and—”
“Alex,” she pleaded, dropping the can and lunging for the book. “Give it to me.”
He held it away from her. “I just want to know. What’s the appeal? That a guy’s going to charge in on a white steed and carry you off, and you’ll live happily ever after?”
“I don’t need a man to rescue me,” she muttered, sitting back and wrapping her arms around herself. “I can do my own rescuing.”
“That,” he stated drily, “is up for debate.” He handed the book back to her.
She shoved it in her bag with a decisive movement. He decided to be a humanitarian and move on. “So what are you doing in London? Work or play?”
“I’m doing a favor for my boss.” She grimaced and pressed the can tighter to her head. “It was supposed to be a quick in and out on my way home from Italy.”
“Just your luck,” he grinned. “You picked the one faulty elevator in London.”
“Please don’t remind me.”
“What line of work are you in?”
She took a sip of her water. “Communications... You?”
“I own an entertainment company, based in New York.” He leaned back against the wall, keeping up the small talk he abhorred as it seemed to be putting a bit of color back into her cheeks. “Was Italy work too?”
She shook her head. “I was doing a cooking course with my girlfriends in Tuscany. We rented a villa on the coast, chilled out and learned how to make a mean bruschetta.”
“That will make your man very happy.”
“I didn’t do it for a man, I did it for myself.”
He noted the defensive edge to her voice. “No man in your life, then?”
She set her jaw. “No.”
He wondered why he liked that idea. “How many of you were in Italy?”
“Eight of us, including me.”
He smiled. “The Italian men must not have known what hit them.”
She shot him a sideways look. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I can only imagine the impression eight of you made on the locals...Tuscany will never be the same, I’m sure.”
Her mouth curved. “My friend Jo was a big hit with the Italian men. She’s a bit of a one-woman wrecking crew.”
He gave her a considering look. “I’m sure she wasn’t the only one.”
She blinked. Looked away. Shy, he registered in astonishment. Were there actually any of those women left in Manhattan? It had been so long since he’d met one he’d thought they were extinct.
A loud creak split the air. He dropped the water, his heart slamming into his chest as he braced his hands on the floor. Isabel launched herself at him, wrapping her limbs around him. He held her close as the elevator swayed and groaned beneath them, his breath coming hard and fast.
What the hell?
“WHAT WAS THAT?”
Isabel screeched the words in his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck in a chokehold. The car rocked beneath them, but this time more gently, without the bloodcurdling creak. He sucked in a breath. “It’s just shifting,” he told her, hoping that’s all it was. “You’re okay.”
Her chest rose and fell rapidly against him. Seconds ticked by. The swaying slowed and then stopped. “Isabel, we’re fine,” he murmured, his heartbeat regulating as he brought his head down to hers. “I promise you, those cables don’t break.”
She drew in a deep breath, then another, stayed pressed against him. As his cortisol levels came down, his awareness of her skyrocketed. Her fingers were dug into his thigh, her light floral scent filling his nostrils. Her thoroughly touchable curves were plastered against him. And God help him, it was making him think improper thoughts. Like how much he’d appreciate those slender fingers wrapped around another part of his anatomy...
She drew back, her face chalk-white. Exhaled a long, agitated breath. Realized where her hand was. He struggled to wipe his expression clean as she lifted her horrified gaze to his, but he was pretty sure from the way her eyes widened and the speed with which she snatched her hand away, she’d known exactly where his head was at.
“I am so sorry,” she murmured. But she was still in his lap, clutching his shoulder for dear life, and he was in severe danger of getting extremely turned on. Worse when she caught her plump bottom lip in her teeth and hell, he wished she wouldn’t do that. He wanted to kiss her, and not the “Sunday walk in the park” variety.
Her pupils dilated, but she didn’t go anywhere. He cleared his throat. “If this was your book,” he drawled mockingly, “this’d be the part where I ravish you in the elevator, no?”
She was off his lap in a flash. She sat back against the wall, her shoulders pressed against the paneling. “Yes, well, that’s why they have security cameras in elevators, don’t they?” she pronounced stiffly. “To prevent that sort of behavior.”
He