Prince's Passion. Кэрол Мортимер
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she bit out tautly. ‘I’m not violent.’
‘Just private, hmm?’ he said knowingly.
‘Just private.’
‘I’ve heard several people refer to you as Jinx this evening,’ he said in an effort to divert her thoughts.
‘Close friends, yes,’ she confirmed stiffly—obviously not counting him amongst their number.
Nik disregarded that for the moment; she might not think they were going to be close friends, but he knew better! ‘How on earth did you come by such an unusual nickname?’
She shot him a mocking glance. ‘Changing the subject?’
‘Rapidly,’ he confirmed, laughter gleaming in his eyes; the chances of this petitely beautiful woman being able to force his six-foot-three, one-hundred-and-eighty-pound frame over the parapet of a bridge were ludicrous to say the least. Which wasn’t to say she wouldn’t give it a damn good try!
She gave an uninterested shrug. ‘When I went to school the other children quickly latched onto the fact that my initial was J. followed by Nixon, and when you say the two of them together…’ She trailed off pointedly, giving him a sideways glance. ‘You aren’t coming home with me, you know.’
Of course he knew. After the last two months of sending letters to her father, just in the hopes of being able to meet him and discuss the movie rights to his book, of the use of a PO box for that correspondence, of the author never agreeing to so much as meeting with his own publisher, it would be expecting too much now for his daughter to just take Nik home with her and introduce the two men.
‘You mentioned earlier that your father isn’t well…?’ he said instead.
She stiffened, all expression suddenly erased from her face. ‘I mentioned it, yes,’ she acknowledged guardedly.
‘Nothing life-threatening, I hope?’ Nik persisted.
‘It depends on what you call life-threatening,’ she returned evasively, a frown now marring her creamy brow.
He shrugged, having an idea that in the case of Jackson I. Nixon the writing and subsequent success of No Ordinary Boy didn’t fit in too well with his other literary achievements. Nik didn’t happen to agree with him, and neither did the millions of other people who had bought and enjoyed the book, but that was just his opinion…
His mouth twisted wryly. ‘It usually means resulting in premature death.’
‘Mr Prince—okay, Nik,’ Jinx conceded impatiently as he scowled his displeasure at the formality. ‘Just stay away from my father, okay?’ Her expression was fierce with emotion now.
‘But I only want—’
‘I know what you want, Nik!’ Her eyes flashed deeply purple in the illumination of the street lamp, her tiny hands clenched into fists at her sides. ‘You want to make a film of No Ordinary Boy. In the hopes, no doubt, of adding yet another Oscar to the five you already have in your trophy cabinet!’
God, this woman was beautiful when roused, whether to anger or passion. And at this moment Nik knew exactly which one he wanted it to be!
‘Perhaps I should feel flattered that you know I have five Oscars—’
‘And perhaps you shouldn’t!’
‘Another Oscar would be nice,’ he conceded huskily. ‘But at this moment I’m damned if I wouldn’t settle for a night in bed with you!’
Colour flared suddenly in the paleness of her cheeks, her lips full and inviting, her breasts moving with the same rapidity of her breathing.
‘I wasn’t aware that was an option,’ she retorted, the nerve pulsing in her raised jaw giving lie to that challenge.
Because Nik was experienced enough to know that, no matter how she might try to deny it—and she was denying it!—Jinx was as physically aware of him as he was of her.
‘Not as an instead of, no,’ he admitted gruffly, moving closer to her, not quite touching, but nevertheless feeling the heat given off from her body. He reached up to touch the pouting softness of her mouth, feeling the quiver his caress invoked. ‘You want me too, Jinx,’ he said with certainty.
Her eyes were so dark now they appeared black, her mouth trembling moistly, a becoming flush to her cheeks, the hardened nubs at the tips of the gentle sweep of her breasts visible beneath the thin material of her dress. And Nik was sure, if he could have touched the very centre of her desire, that she would be moist there too, as ready for him as he was for her.
And they hadn’t so much as kissed each other yet!
But that was easily rectified, Nik decided, no longer able to resist the urge to take her into his arms, to mould her body fiercely against his, to let her feel the surge of his desire against her warm thighs, before he bent his head and his mouth took hers—and his previously well-constructed world fell apart!
Drowning.
It was like drowning.
Every other woman he had ever known was instantly consigned to a black void and could never be recalled. Only Jinx existed, only the touch, the warmth, the smell, the taste of her.
This woman, this tiny, stubborn, five-foot delicacy of a woman, was taking possession of him, body and soul…!
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