Any Man Of Mine. Diana Palmer
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I don’t suppose it is, to you.” She shot him a teasing glance. “But your love life is like one ongoing adventure to me. I really think you should assign the girls numbers or something so you can keep things in order.”
“I’m delighted that my private life amuses you so,” he said in a chilling voice.
“You could always tease me about mine,” she said grandly.
His dark eyes cut around toward her. “You don’t have one,” he said. “Not a love life, anyway.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “What makes you so sure?”
“I keep a sharp eye on you, little one,” he said with a somber tone that startled her. “Sharper than you know. You don’t sleep around.”
She glared at him. “Maybe I should hire a private detective of my own!”
“What do you want to know?” he asked with a wicked grin. “Go ahead, ask me. I’ll tell you.”
She glared at him again. “I’d just love to ask you something so personal it would embarrass you to the roots of your hair.”
“Dream on, honey,” he returned with a smile.
She sized up his muscular, imposing physique. “I’ll bet you crush them,” she murmured absently.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Is there only one position?” he asked in all innocence.
The blush started at her hairline, worked down into her cheeks, seeped into her throat and down into the plunging neckline of her dress. And he sat there and watched her and laughed softly, lazily, as if the sight delighted him.
“Instead of the theater, I’d better start taking you to some X-rated movies,” he murmured. “Your education is sadly lacking.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could manage a retort, he picked up her hand and pressed her palm to his lips. It was unexpected, and the sensation it caused made her heart turn over wildly. He caught her eyes, holding them in the dim confines of the car until she felt as if she’d never get her breath again.
He drew her forearm against his lips, sliding it past his rough cheek, holding her eyes the whole time, studying her like some rare and beautiful thing he’d captured.
“I use my elbows,” he whispered, drawing her imperceptibly closer, his voice caressing, seductive. “And I’ve never had a single complaint. Would you like me to prove it?”
Her heart was hammering wildly in her trembling body. She stared at him and couldn’t look away, and she was suddenly afraid.
“Little coward,” he murmured, watching the expressions chase each other in her eyes. “Are you really afraid of me?”
She cleared her throat. “I’m hungry,” she lied.
“For me?” he asked humorously.
She tore her hand out of his grasp and edged back into the corner by the door, glaring at him like some fierce little animal.
“You’re priceless,” he chuckled. “Did you think I was going to make a pass at you in front of Jimson?”
“Jimson is trained not to look,” she reminded him, her voice strangely breathless. “And it’s not kind of you to make fun of me.”
“I can’t help it. You rise to the bait so sweetly.” He cocked his head at her, his eyes watchful. “Haven’t you ever wondered in all these years what kind of lover I’d be?”
She averted her eyes then dropped them. “Yes,” she said finally, because she’d never made a habit of lying to him.
“Well,” he prodded. “What did you think?”
She glanced at him with unfamiliar shyness. “That you’d be heavy,” she grinned.
He laughed softly. “And what else?” he persisted.
She shrugged. “Tender,” she said softly. Her eyes met his across the space. “Patient. A little rough.”
“Not demanding?” he asked quietly, and there were deep undercurrents in the conversation.
“Are you?” she asked involuntarily.
“It depends on the woman,” he replied. “But I can be patient. And tender, when I need to be.”
“How...how do you like a woman to be?” she asked breathlessly.
He stared at her, his eyes darkening, his face hardening with emotion, and there was an electricity between them like nothing Keena had ever experienced.
“The Palace, sir.” Jimson’s pleasant voice interrupted their wordless communication as he stopped the car in front of the exclusive restaurant.
Keena drew in a breath in relief, wondering what had gotten into her to make her ask such an intimate question. It must be my age, she thought wildly, waiting for him to come around and open her door.
“I think we’re going to have to do some talking when I come back from Paris,” he said on the way inside, “I’ve got something in mind that might benefit us both.”
“You want me to design you a wardrobe!” she said with mock enthusiasm. “Something suitably flashy, but elegant, to go with this car. Frankly, I don’t think the job’s for me, but...”
“Damn you!” He burst out laughing in spite of himself. “Come on and feed me before I take a bite out of you!”
It was impossible not to notice as they made short work of filet mignon and lobster, buttery rolls, a salad and rich red wine that he was paying more attention to Keena than he was to the food.
She stopped in the act of lifting a piece of steak to her mouth, staring across the white linen-covered table at him. “Why are you watching me so closely?” she asked with a faint laugh. “Afraid I’m going to try to walk out with the silver?”
“You remind me of a pixie,” he murmured absently. “Mischievous little face, teasing eyes slanted just a bit at the corners, perfect little mouth. You look as if you’re out of place in this setting, and I’ve only just noticed it.”
“I’m twenty-seven,” she reminded him, “and I’d hardly fit under a leaf in somebody’s forest.”
“Twenty-seven,” he echoed quietly. His dark eyes narrowed. “And you barely seem half that to me.”
“It’s because you’re so old,” she told him with mock seriousness. “Entering the golden years, where your bones creak and your eyesight is slowly dimming...”
“Damn you,” he growled harshly. “Shut up!” His tone was venomous, so controlled that it seemed to shudder with sudden rage.
It was unexpected, and it silenced Keena immediately. She’d always teased Nicholas, from the beginning, and often about his age. He’d always laughed. But tonight she’d caught him on the raw for the first time, and he wasn’t laughing. His face had snapped closed like something untamed. His eyes were the only things in his broad, hard face that seemed alive, and they were blazing with menace. She’d only seen Nicholas this angry once, when one of her coworkers had gotten miffed when she refused his advances. Nicholas had intended to surprise her in the office that day and had come in on them unexpectedly. Keena was sure that she could have subdued the young man without any help. But Nicholas, summing up the situation with a glance, had not stopped to ask for an invitation to rescue her. She’d learned later that he’d broken the young man’s jaw. And ever since she’d carefully avoided antagonizing him.
Until now. And it hadn’t been deliberate. “Nicholas, I was only teasing,” she said softly.
That didn’t calm him a bit. He picked up his wineglass with a grip that threatened to snap the slender stem and drained it in one huge gulp.
“Nicholas,