Having the Billionaire's Baby(3)

"Perhaps." The smile left his lips, but it lingered in his eyes, sought a   response in hers. "Am I wrong about you wanting this next dance?"

"No," she admitted, allowing her lips to curve. She was dancing with   this man not because it was the appropriate or right thing to do, but   purely because she wanted to. If this was freedom she could easily get   used to it.

"Good."

She felt as if she'd passed some kind of test. As they glided around the   floor, Callie lost awareness of everything except Nick and their   bodies, of his closeness, and his supple strength. For the first time in   a long time, she felt both desirable and desired. A heady sensation.   And in an unsought response, she felt, too, the reciprocal stirring of   yearning deep within her. She could imagine wanting more, taking more.



One dance blended into the next. The music changed to something with a   slow, steady rhythm and a Latin-American feel. And as they moved. Nick   looked down at her. Those river-green eyes seemed to see right into her.   Please let him not know the forbidden territory her thoughts had  ranged  to. Callie looked away and was startled to realize that, save  for one  other couple locked in an embrace, the dance floor was now  empty and the  crowd in the ballroom had thinned considerably. As if in a  waking  dream, she looked back into Nick's eyes and felt herself drawn  deeper.

His eyes darkened. With a fluid movement, he spun her away, then drew   her back into him. For a second her back pressed against him, his arms   encircled her. With another turn, she was facing him again and breathing   more rapidly than the dancing warranted.

Her awareness centered wholly on this man and the way their bodies moved   together to the rhythm of the music. He led expertly, signaling with   his touch where he wanted her to go, and she followed that   self-assurance effortlessly.

She thought in that moment that she, who liked to lead in life, would follow him anywhere.

They turned and for a passing moment their thighs intertwined.   Loverlike. The desire that had been smoldering all evening ignited and   swept through her.                       
       
           



       

"Tell me your name?" His jaw, faintly shadowed, was only a whisper away from her face, and his voice resonated through her.

"Calypso." She chose to tell him her full name. She didn't often use it.   Jason had never liked it; he'd thought it odd. But wasn't tonight  about  reclaiming a part of herself she'd lost? She'd been named after a  boat,  for goodness' sake, but at least a boat that had sailed the high  seas  and sought adventure.

Another turn. "It's beautiful," he said. Her gaze met his, and the masks   were stripped away. He saw the desire she couldn't conceal. She saw  its  match in the green depths of his eyes.

He wanted her.

Her pulse leapt as her mouth ran dry. She wanted him too.

The ground seemed to disappear beneath her feet, replaced by the soaring   sensation of freedom. Terrifying and exhilarating. The freedom to   choose-that power heady and intoxicating. Or perhaps that was the man   himself. It had been so long since anyone had looked at her like that.

He exuded confidence, strength and a barely concealed sexuality. And he   tempted her. But she also knew he wanted no commitment. He was not at   all what she was looking for.

But searching for what she thought she wanted had resulted in   disappointment and disaster. She reminded herself of her resolution to   live in the present, to seize life.

Perhaps? The word shimmered with limitless possibilities. Perhaps for   tonight she could throw caution and practicality and planning to the   wind, and go where fate, or lust, was leading her. Perhaps for tonight   she could seize life with both hands and actually live a little.   Tomorrow she would return to her real life of responsibilities and   careful planning. But tonight …

"Are you ready to go?"

She knew what he was asking. "Yes."





Nick held Calypso's delicate hand in his as he led her to the elevators.   She asked him no questions, offered nothing about herself. That lack  of  any attempt to create a basis for intimacy told him she wasn't  looking  for any more than he was. Perhaps it was because of that  reticence that  he suddenly found he wanted to know more about her-who  she was, what  made her laugh, what made her cry, her secret hopes and  fears.

His sister's wedding was the last place he thought he'd meet someone and   feel this pull of attraction. After the tensions of the last few  months  with Angelina, both before and after their relationship ended,  he'd  planned on enjoying a break, some time on his own without the  demands of  a relationship.

The solitude he had toasted with the woman now at his side.

But there was something different about this woman. He had felt a   connection the moment he'd first seen her dark silhouette in the night.   He felt a connection now, just holding her hand in his.

Some things are meant to be. His grandmother Rosa's words. He tamped   down on the thought. He wasn't a believer in fate. A man created his own   destiny. But this … this felt like fate. He could almost hear Rosa's   soft, knowing laugh. Rosa, who had sent him outside to make that call.   As though she had known … something.

No matter how often he denied it, she insisted that Nick was the only   one in the family to have inherited her gift. And sometimes, like now,   he could almost believe it. He smiled when he realized what he was   doing, using mumbo jumbo to justify going to bed with a woman he'd just   met.



This wasn't destiny. This was his libido awakening. He pressed the button for the elevator.

"You're smiling?"

He looked down at the woman beside him and was drawn into her   chocolate-colored eyes. He lifted his free hand, fingered one of the   silken curls that framed her face. He could imagine how she would look   the morning after a night of passion-tousled and sleepy. The thought   took him by surprise. His mind didn't usually leap so far ahead with a   woman. He lived moment by moment. But he could see the morning after,   could imagine breakfasts in bed. Could imagine lunches, dinners, more   dancing. "I have a lot to smile about."

Her own smile in return was hesitant, but no less powerful for that.   Satisfaction and desire swelled. He had wanted to make her smile, to   erase a shadow of sorrow that seemed to lurk behind her eyes. He knew   that, for tonight at least, he could make her forget everything. A   knowing glint touched her eyes and temptation leaped. He wrenched his   gaze away. If he kissed those softly parted lips now he wouldn't want to   stop. He jabbed the button again, and was rewarded with the ping   signaling the elevator's arrival.

As the doors slid closed, secluding them in the private space, he did   what he'd ached to since he first saw her standing alone on the balcony.   He curved his fingers around her slender neck, his thumb resting at  the  softly vulnerable juncture of throat and jaw, her hair like silk   cascaded over his knuckles.                       
       
           



       

Savoring the moment, he bent his head to taste her.

It was a gentle kiss, as though they had all the time in the world. She   tilted her head and the kiss deepened. Peaches. She tasted of the   sun-ripened peaches that had been served with dessert. Her lips were   pliant beneath his. Their bodies scarcely touched, and yet need for her   arrowed through him.

He was a man who stayed in control. At all times. He was known for it.   But here, in an elevator, that control was perilously thin. It was with a   mixture of despair and reprieve that he realized they had arrived at   the top floor and the doors were waiting open.

He lifted his head, looked again into those deep brown eyes and reached   for her hands. Her hastily retrieved evening bag dangled from one   slender wrist as he raised her hands to his lips and kissed each of her   knuckles in turn.

They walked toward his suite. It seemed important not to rush. Time   needed to be taken to absorb her, the touch of her hand, the scent of   her hair, the awareness of how her body moved so close to, and so in   tune with his.

Pulling the card key for his room from his pocket, he hesitated as he   held it above the slot. He looked at her, wanted her to be absolutely   certain. Wanted to know that this craving wasn't of his own imagination.   She slid the card from his fingers and inserted it. When the access   light blinked green, she pushed open the door and stepped into the room   ahead of him.