His gaze alight with laughter, he ate up a little more of the space between them. She felt the heat of his body tease her skin, tug lower in her belly.
She made another sound with her mouth. Only it emerged croaky and faint this time. “Down five more.”
He neared her, tugged at her wrap, which was trailing toward the ground, and tucked it neatly around her bare shoulders. Encompassed by his wide frame, she felt the world around her fall away. His fingers grazed her nape in the barest of touches and lingered. Need rippled across her, every inch of her hyper-sensitive to his nearness.
She wet her lips. “Annndddd...I’ll probably spell my own name wrong if you ask me now.”
Throwing back his head, he laughed. It was such a heartfelt sound that she couldn’t help but smile, too. And marvel at the breathtaking beauty of the man. She felt the most atavistic thrill, like a cavewoman—the very thing she had accused him of being—that he was choosing to spend the evening with her.
He moved away from her, his mouth still curved. “We want you functioning with your normal brilliance tonight, right?”
She should be glad he had some kind of control, because apparently she had none when it came to him. Swallowing her body’s frustrated groan, she looked away from him. “Have you really moved to New York?”
He studied her with a lingering intensity. The laughter waned from his face. “Aah...you thought I wasn’t coming back.”
“I went by your past record.” She gave voice to the thought that wouldn’t leave her alone. “Of course I forgot that this time you have something precious to come back for.”
He closed his eyes for an infinitesimal moment, his posture throwing off angry energy. When he spoke, his gaze was flat, his voice soft with suppressed emotions. “Are you accusing me of something, pequena?”
She shook her head. She was too much of a coward to hear what she already knew—that she hadn’t mattered enough for him to come after her six years ago.
With his hand at her back, he nudged her toward the waiting limo.
She settled into the seat, scrambling to get her wits together. Acknowledging that her common sense went on a hike when he was close was something; mooning over him was another. She crossed her legs. Her dress rode up to her thighs and she tugged the fabric down, heat tightening her cheeks. Watching her like a vulture, Diego didn’t miss anything. She pulled her wrap tighter and sat straight, like a rigid statue.
One glance in the tinted windows was enough to throw her further equilibrium.
She was due for a haircut, which meant her hair didn’t have the blunt look she preferred but curled around her face in that annoying way. And she hadn’t had the strength, for once, to straighten it to its usual glossy look. She had applied a little foundation and her usual lip gloss. But she looked pale after another sleepless night. She plumped her hair with her fingers on one side, so that a curl covered it.
She fidgeted in her seat and pulled the edges of her wrap together. Again. She should have changed, even if it had meant she would be late. Because the dress just...clung too much. The fabric cupped her breasts tight. One could probably even make out the shape of her...
Damn it. Nothing about the evening felt right.
Diego’s attention didn’t waver from her for a second.
She looked at him and uttered the first thing that came into her head. “Do I look okay?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a simple question, Diego.”
“Really? I didn’t think you needed assurance in any walk of life.”
“Well, you’re wrong. I have lots of moments where I think I might just break,” she said, with a catch she couldn’t hide, “and this pregnancy is bringing out the worst in every way possible—mood swings, nausea. And you’re not making it easy by...”
He pulled her hand into his and squeezed. His touch anchored her—a small but infinitely comforting gesture. “Tell me how I can help.”
“For starters you can tell me—” she sucked in a deep breath “—how I look.”
His gaze flicked to her, roguish amusement glinting in it. “Okay. Take off that wrap.”
Her mouth clamped shut, Kim sat rigid, her hands fisted in her lap.
“Do you want my opinion or not?”
“Yes.”
He grabbed the edge of her cashmere wrap and pulled it.
His gaze traveled over her slowly, methodically, from her hair to her shoulders, left bare by the strapless beige silk dress which hugged every curve. She sucked in her breath as it hovered over her midriff.
It felt like forever before it moved to her bare legs and her feet clad in Prada pumps.
He cleared his throat. “You look different,” he finally said.