Max stiffened, squaring his wide shoulders, flattening his handsome mouth. If he did marry Tia, as Andrew had urged him to do, no actual wedding would take place for months. Max refused to rush into anything. Max liked structure, order, strategic planning. He didn’t do impulse or invite disruption in any field, and would never have scaled the heights he had without serious self-discipline.

      The limo drew up outside the brightly lit hotel. Max sprang out first, and then disconcerted her by peeling off his suit jacket and draping it round her shoulders as she emerged from the car.

      ‘Is that really necessary?’ Tia enquired, reeling a little and struggling to find her balance in the ridiculous heels as fresh air engulfed her.

      ‘Sì... If you can turn me on this hard and fast, when I’m striving to stay cool, I imagine other men will stare too, and I am assuming you would prefer not to be stared at and lusted after,’ Max murmured in a raw undertone, astonishing her with the abrupt and unexpected admission. ‘On the other hand, if you enjoy being the centre of male attention, give me my jacket back... It’s entirely your decision.’

      She turned him on. Tia was exhilarated by that grated confession and clutched self-protectively at his jacket, revelling in the intimacy of the silk lining, still warm from his skin, and the faint evocative fragrance of his cologne that still clung to the fabric. She breathed that fragrance in like an addict. The attraction was mutual.